LITMIR.BIZ

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and sniffed it like potpourri. Then cried until her nose was congested and she couldn’t smell anymore. How pitiful was that?

      Amanda sat at her desk, cradling her forehead in her hands. Sophie was quiet, and Amanda had been so wrapped up in her thoughts she’d forgotten the baby was even there. Was that treating her like a houseplant? She glanced into the playpen. Sophie had fallen asleep; no wonder she hadn’t noticed her. The nap probably had to do with the soothing nocturne now playing on Hunter’s laptop. Too bad it hadn’t helped her headache.

      “There’s nothing like Chopin’s piano pieces to massage the nerves.” Hunter’s distinct masculine voice as he entered the room made Amanda gasp and jerk her head up. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

      “I’m just a bit edgy,” she said. “I don’t recall you being a Chopin man.”

      “You’re looking at the new and improved version of me.”

      “Yeah? Well, for the record, I liked your old nose better.” Why did his mere presence make her feel so testy?

      Taking her rebuke in his stride, Hunter sat and hitched half his mouth into a smile, then rubbed the bump on the bridge of his nose. “Yeah? Well, I got it defending myself against a gang of hoodlums.”

      “Really?” she said flatly.

      “Must have been a dozen of them. Came at me from all angles.” “Uh-huh.” His efforts at lightening her mood failed miserably. “And they were huge.

      She avoided looking at him, fearing she might crack a smile. After a moment, he rolled his chair next to hers. He had that I’ve-been-thinking look in his eyes.

      When they’d been married, and they’d had a problem to solve, he’d withdraw for anywhere from a few hours to a few days—then suddenly resurface with that exact expression to present his fail-safe plan. The problem was, she’d rarely agreed with his solutions.

      Well, here he was beside her, looking that way again, and she wondered what great insight he was about to share.

      “I’ve been thinking,” he said.

      She almost smiled.

      He touched her hand with one finger, causing an unwanted spark of warmth on the underside of her wrist.

      He gave an understanding nod. “This is a bizarre situation, given our history, but if we keep reminding ourselves it’s strictly a professional association, things should work out. I admit that seeing you has been a shock, and you’ve admitted it was the same for you, but we’ll get used to being around each other again.” He rested his hand on hers and looked into her eyes. She blinked. “Let’s just keep focused on why we’re here. This is for Joel and my father—and whatever reason you’re working so passionately for.”

      She’d resisted that tingle at first contact by tricking herself into thinking it was a fluke. Her hand had been cold, and that was why she’d felt it. That was all. But now, with his hand on top of hers, the unsettled feeling made her want to squirm. The touch crept up the surface of her skin as if a cool breath tickled the inside of her elbow. It had been hard enough facing him after years of separation; now, adding this innocent touch, it all felt far too intimate. She couldn’t let herself go there.

      “Mandy, you’re not the only one feeling all mixed up.”

      “I realize that,” she said, removing her hand and diverting her eyes. Had he read her mind?

      When had they changed places? Wasn’t she the one who’d used to initiate enlightening conversations and he who had given curt replies? Maybe his nose wasn’t all that had changed.

      Having a sudden need to move away from him, she reached for the intercom and asked the receptionist to send the first patient in for halter monitor application. While she waited, she continued to avoid his gaze by pretending to read the patient’s chart. She couldn’t decipher a single word.

      “Hello, Mrs. Drake.” Amanda stood and gestured for the patient to sit at the chair in front of her desk. “Are you ready to wear the halter all night?”

      “Will it get really irritating when I try to sleep?”

      “Maybe a little, but you’ll survive.”

      “Okay, I’ll give it a shot,” the round, middle-aged lady replied cheerfully.

      Amanda assisted the woman by applying the EKG leads after the patient had opened her blouse. She removed the monitor from its portable pocket and unwrapped the wires, before connecting it to the leads on Mrs. Drake, then she put the device back into its halter pocket for easy traveling. She’d analyze the findings tomorrow, along with all of the others.

      Demonstrating his somewhat improved caregiver skills, Hunter removed Sophie’s bottle of formula from the portable bottle warmer—which Mandy had helped him set up—and checked the contents for heat level on the inside of his wrist, as previously instructed by Mandy, before giving it to his niece. Amanda tried her best not to notice, but the office was so small.

      While she received her next patient, and the baby gulped her meal, he quietly packed up all of his paraphernalia, picked up Sophie, and left the clinic without so much as a nod or a goodbye.

      Amanda refused to be affected. Would she expect anything more from any other colleague? After all, she’d been busy with a patient. If Dr. Beiderman had become her mentor and had left without saying goodbye, would she feel slighted? Not at all. Business associates had schedules to keep regardless of social niceties. That was the frame of mind she must keep while dealing with Hunter—strictly professional.

      So what was this empty feeling settling into the center of her chest? And why did the office seem so dead and lifeless now?

      She shook her head, refusing to go down that old and familiar road. Instead, she decided that if she were going to survive the Mending Hearts Club program, she’d need rules. Rules to keep things in perspective. She called for her next patient and while she waited scribbled a short list, just like she used to do. She planned to run it by Hunter tomorrow.

      Hunter tossed his briefcase on his desk, slid into the cushy leather chair and rubbed his neck. The freeway drive back to Mercy Hospital had been bumper to bumper, and Sophie had wailed most of the way. This time music hadn’t calmed her down. He felt the tension right…there. Ah.

      Thankfully Sophie had slept for the last part of the drive, but how long would she tolerate being cooped up in her car seat on a daily basis? And when he was finally able to contact Jade, how would he explain his three-hour round-trip commute? She would not approve.

      If there’d been any way to avoid taking on his niece, he would have suggested it. But Jade would never have considered leaving her baby with their mother, and Hunter would never expect her to. He ground his teeth, wishing Jade had at least one girlfriend she trusted as much as him.

      For now his medical assistant, Maria, a short, plump woman with a gentle spirit, a contagious smile and a penchant for babies, had Sophie at her workstation while he prepared for his jam-packed afternoon clinic. He’d never be able to thank her enough. She bounced the baby on her knee until Hunter heard his niece’s hearty belly laugh. It should have made him smile.

      He bored a hole into the dark mahogany wood with his stare while he rubbed his temples and tried not to think about Mandy.

      The commute had zapped his energy, too. Instinctively he reached for his earphones and plugged them in. He’d listen to Wagner’s Ride of the Valkyries for a quick boost of energy.

      Three months ago he’d taken Jade to music therapy for her depression. It hadn’t helped her one iota, but through music he’d gotten in touch with his deepest feelings and, though shocking at first, had discovered his true gifts as a doctor.

      The music therapy instructor had said he was a wounded healer, intuitive and caring. Yeah, he’d thought, with a wry smile, next he’d be reading his horoscope. Truth was, with the help of carefully

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