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SEVEN

       CHAPTER EIGHT

       CHAPTER NINE

       CHAPTER TEN

       CHAPTER ELEVEN

       CHAPTER TWELVE

       CHAPTER THIRTEEN

       CHAPTER FOURTEEN

       CHAPTER FIFTEEN

       CHAPTER SIXTEEN

       CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

       CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

       CHAPTER NINETEEN

       CHAPTER TWENTY

       CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

       CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

       CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

       CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

       CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

       CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

       Extract

       Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

      Whidbey Island One week before Thanksgiving

      “MOM, MY EAR IS FINE. How much longer do we have to wait?”

      Serena Delgado looked up from the pair of socks she was knitting. Her six-year-old son Pepé’s brown eyes and earnest expression looked so much like his father’s it made her smile.

      A smile was a big improvement over the heart-crushing pain the thought of Philip used to bring.

      “Pepé, we have to be patient. I brought my new knitting project to keep me busy. Look, they’re the Army-green socks you asked for.”

       “Mom.”

      Pepé wasn’t impressed by her intricate stitches, or the fact that she was knitting both socks at once on her circular needles.

      “Are you that bored with your video game already?”

      “This waiting is taking a long time, Mom. I’d rather be playing soccer.”

      Serena checked her watch. She’d never attempted two-at-a-time socks before, and her absorption in the task must have been deeper than she’d realized.

      They’d been sitting in the pediatric waiting area of Naval Hospital Oak Harbor for forty-five minutes. Located on Naval Air Station or NAS Whidbey, it was the only military medical facility on the island.

      “Maybe you’re right, mi hijo. Let’s go see if we can find someone to help us. They may have lost our paperwork in the shuffle.”

      She stuffed the needle and yarn into her tote and grabbed each of their jackets. They walked past the empty reception area and Serena’s hunch that they’d been overlooked grew stronger. She knew patients weren’t supposed to enter the hallway where the examination rooms were located without a nurse or corpsman to escort them, but since it was a Friday afternoon, she’d take her chances. She was as eager as Pepé to start the weekend.

      The first few exam rooms were empty, lights out.

      “No one’s here, Mom,” Pepé whispered, as if they were going on a spy mission.

      “We’ll find somebody.”

      Light spilled from the room in front of them and Serena paused, her hand on Pepé’s shoulder. She didn’t want to barge in on someone else’s exam.

      Pepé stilled next to her and a conversation became clear.

      “This is crap, Doc, and you know it.” A deep voice filled with frustration rumbled from the room.

      “You’re back home, Jonas. In case you haven’t noticed, there’s no battlefront here at NAS Whidbey.”

       Jonas.

      Serena’s spine stiffened. The one “Jonas” she knew of fit this scenario too well....

      “I’m putting you where the Navy needs you, and right now I need you in the regular pediatrics clinic for the next few weeks. You’ll treat the routine cases. When Petty Officer Reilly isn’t available, you’ll have to check in the patients, too. If you have any problems getting used to the system we’ve upgraded to, ask HM1 Reilly. I don’t think you will—it’s all pretty straightforward.”

      “I’m trained for so much more, Doc. At least put me in the E.R.”

      If this was the Jonas she had heard about—Jonas Scott—he had an awfully sexy voice. Nothing like his brother Paul’s, whom she’d met in person.

      “Mom, that’s Doc Franklin!” Pepé whispered his recognition of the second voice, but his excitement threatened to break his self-control. Besides being his beloved pediatrician, Doc Franklin shared the name of one of Pepé’s favorite heroes in American history. Pepé loved Dr. Benjamin Franklin, from the moment the Navy had assigned him to the family. Serena liked him, too, mostly for his easygoing manner with Pepé. She’d never heard this side of him, however. Military medical officers were more than doctors; they had to lead, too. And Jonas didn’t sound like he wanted direction from anyone.

      “Shh, we shouldn’t interrupt them.” Her lawyerly instincts seemed to vibrate as she did her best to ignore the twinge of guilt at admonishing Pepé. She was eavesdropping, pure and simple.

      But if Dr. Franklin was indeed speaking to Jonas Scott, the one man on Whidbey Island who could change Serena’s life, it behooved her to listen.

       Just a bit longer.

      “You can rotate through the E.R. as needed, but not until after the holidays. Peds isn’t always boring, Jonas. Right now, take advantage of being back from deployment. You weren’t even due to report to work until next week, after the Thanksgiving holiday.”

      “Sitting around my house isn’t a whole lot of fun.”

      Regret pierced through Serena’s stoic attorney mode. It had to be Jonas Scott. It had been as much of a surprise to her as it had been to Jonas that his stepmother and her biological aunt, Dottie Forsyth, had willed her family farmhouse to Serena. The tragic circumstances of Dottie’s unexpected death hadn’t helped. Dottie was supposed to grow old in the farmhouse, not be murdered by a crazy woman the previous summer.

      “I’m sorry, Jonas. It’s a crappy time of year to be single and alone.”

      “It’s not about that, Doc. I’m over it.”

      “I know you’re over your ex, Jonas. What you’re not over is deployment and the constant insane pace. You’re done deploying, trust me. With the drawdown in Afghanistan and your rank, you could finish out the rest of your time on shore duty. And what about your stepmother’s death? You’ve got a lot to process.”

      It was Jonas Scott, Dottie’s stepson.

      He had an ex?

      “I’ll deal.” His voice was little more than a growl.

      “I have no doubt that you will. But it won’t hurt you to scale it back a bit and enjoy the lighter schedule. Give yourself time to grieve, Jonas.”

      “There has to be something I can do besides weigh in snotty-nosed kids whose mothers are overreacting to the common cold.”

      Serena’s face heated as she fought her maternal anger.

      “Save the tough-guy routine for someone who

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