LITMIR.BIZ

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a name on the clipboard jumped out at him. Mia Anthony, age six. The listed parent was Harper Anthony. Occupation: nurse. Now he placed her—the widow of Sean Anthony, a fellow teacher with whom he used to coach wrestling after school. Her appearance had changed in the past few years, he reflected, studying her.

      “It’s the hair,” Harper said.

      “Excuse me?”

      “You were trying to place me. I just got my hair cut,” she explained. “Used to be long.”

      “I remember.” Finally.

      Behind her, a woman approached with a little girl. “Bathroom?” she inquired frantically.

      He pointed toward the exit. “Down the hall on the right.”

      As they departed, Peter gazed around the room, making sure the college-age counselors were correctly grouping the kids under the banners marking off the grade levels. Kindergarten through second-graders were assembling by the bleachers on one side, third- through fifth-graders on the other and sixth through eighth under a basketball hoop.

      The camp had been established for dual purposes. It gave college students summer jobs working with kids, developing job skills and preparing for careers in education. It also provided half- and full-day programs that kept children active during the vacation months.

      “Reggie, hold on!” Harper tightened her grip on the little boy. “This is Reggie Cavill. He’s the son of a friend. Well, the nephew, actually—long story. Anyway, Adrienne works an overnight shift so I brought him this morning. I want to be sure he’s registered.”

      “Did his aunt complete the form online?”

      “I think so.”

      Peter found the name Cavill, Reginald, on his list, along with his age, five, and Dr. Adrienne Cavill, obstetrician, listed as guardian. “Everything’s in order.”

      “I was wondering if he and Mia could be placed in different groups.” Harper shook her bangs out of her eyes. “They’re almost like brother and sister, so they tend to squabble.”

      “Thanks for letting me know.” He jotted down the information. “We do divide the kids into smaller groups for some activities. I’ll make sure they’re separated.”

      Reggie stopped squirming to stare at Peter. He was a cute little guy with short blond hair and two missing teeth. “Are you, like, a coach?”

      “I am,” Peter said. “Do you have a favorite sport?”

      “Eating,” Mia piped up. “And smearing it all over his face.”

      “Shut up!” The little boy feinted around Harper and gave her a shove, which Mia deflected with a well-timed turn of the shoulder.

      Catching the boy’s arm gently but firmly, Peter drew him away. “At sports camp, treating other people with respect is an important part of athletics. We don’t hit, push or kick.”

      “She made fun of me!”

      Peter fixed Mia with a serious expression. “When we treat people with respect, they respect us in turn. So we don’t use insults, either.”

      “Even if they’re true?” she asked.

      He fought to hide his amusement. “Even if we think they’re true.”

      “Thank you.” Harper regarded him appreciatively. “It’s hard for kids to grow up without a father. Being here will do them good.”

      “I’m sure it will.” He watched her shepherd the tykes, each with a backpack in place, to their assigned group.

      It was kind of her to help a friend’s little boy. Single parents had to band together, especially if they didn’t have close relatives in the area. Peter was grateful that his mother and father lived only half an hour away, since he was contemplating single fatherhood himself.

      Suddenly he remembered where he’d seen Harper Anthony recently. Or, rather, seen her photograph.

      This evening, after camp, he resolved to take another look. Because today’s chance encounter might turn out to be the answer to a very important question.

      * * *

      HARPER ALMOST WISHED she hadn’t run into Peter Gladstone that morning. Although of course she’d noticed his name on the sports camp website, she hadn’t thought much about it until she’d stood right in front of him.

      His sheer physicality had caught her off guard. That incredible build. Those bright blue eyes. The confident way he held himself. The leashed strength in his voice.

      Since her husband died in an off-road vehicle accident three years earlier, Harper had avoided situations that might tempt her to get involved with a man. She didn’t need the complications and had no interest in remarrying.

      Although her very normal needs had a way of surfacing, as they’d done today, she recognized the less enjoyable side of involvement, at least for her. Organizing her life around a man, tailoring her activities to his preferences—that might have suited her as a teenager, when she’d first fallen in love, but she was twenty-eight now. And enjoying the chance to live the way she wanted.

      Still, suppressing her instincts must have made her vulnerable. Even in that noisy gym, she’d had to struggle to project calmness and control.

      Her reaction was ridiculous, Harper reminded herself later as she weighed the next obstetrical patient and escorted her to an examining room. During their marriages, there’d never been any vibes between Harper and Peter Gladstone. He’d seemed devoted to his wife, and while Harper had liked Angela’s sweet personality when they ran into each other—mostly at school functions—she’d found the woman rather passive.

      Nothing like Harper’s outspoken, strong-willed friends. Nothing like the self-reliant woman Harper was determined to become, either.

      After several years of financial and emotional struggles, she was finally getting her life on track. Five months ago, she’d landed this job as a nurse assisting Dr. Nora Franco in the medical office building next to the hospital. A couple of months later, she’d moved from an apartment into a house where her daughter could have a pet, and now she’d chopped off the long hair that Sean used to love.

      She valued the freedom to experiment and make her own choices. What she didn’t need was a guy who, judging by the wife he’d chosen, preferred compliant women.

      “You got your hair cut.” The patient, Una Barker, a heavyset woman in her seventh week of pregnancy, sat on the edge of the examining table. “It’s flattering. Practical for summer, too.” She wore her own reddish-brown locks short and tightly curled.

      “My daughter’s hair kept getting snarled.” Harper attached the blood pressure cuff. “She refused to cut hers unless I did the same, so here we are. Frankly, I wish I’d done this years ago.”

      “I hope one of my twins is a girl,” Una said. “But I’ll be happy as long as they’re healthy.”

      Harper moved to the computer terminal to note Una’s blood pressure, which was slightly elevated but within the normal range. “Any problems? Nausea? Back pains?”

      “A little queasiness.”

      “Is it bothering you now?” The patient might need a few crackers to hold her until lunch. The office kept a supply.

      “Not at the moment.” Una indicated a pile of garments at one side. “Should I change into one of those lovely hospital gowns?”

      Harper chuckled. While the thin, ill-fitting robes served their purpose, no one liked them. “Not today. Dr. Franco just wants to see how you’re feeling.” Having achieved the first successful pregnancy in Safe Harbor Medical Center’s new egg donor program, Una merited extra attention. Also, carrying twins added to her risk. “She should be in momentarily.”

      “Wait—unless you’re in a hurry?”

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