A Petite Romantique Romance

Rx for Love
by
Fiona Neal

(c) copyright June 2002, Carolyn Rickenbaker
Cover art by Eliza Black, (c) June 2002
New Concepts Publishing
4729 Humphreys Rd.
Lake Park, GA 31636
www.newconceptspublishing.com
ncp@newconceptspublishing.com

Chapter One

"That does it! I'm asking my shrink friend, Dr. Berger, to commit you to the nearest psychiatric hospital." Gloria O'Connor paced the length of the bedroom with the grace of a matador.

Maura Egan looked up from cramming her suitcase. "Aren't you overstating the situation just a tad, Gloria?"

"Overstating!" Disbelief in her gray eyes, the woman halted abruptly. "I'd say understating is more like it. "You're about to drive off to some moose track in the wilderness of Vermont when the weatherman is forecasting the worst blizzard in twenty years."

"It's no moose track." Maura jammed down the top of the valise. Sitting on it, she secured the lock. "East Fairfield is a real town. It's not too far from St. Albans."

"Tomorrow morning," Gloria continued, "I'll pick up a copy of the Globe and read that the highway patrol found you and Wags dead in your car frozen stiffer than Popsicles."

At the mention of her name, the beagle lifted her muzzle from the light blue wall-to-wall carpet and looked at Maura's best friend.

"That's what I've always liked about you, Gloria." Maura moved to the old mahogany dresser. Picking up a comb, she raked it through her long chestnut waves. "You're such an optimist."

"Stuff like that happens all the time, and you know it."

"By the time the storm hits, Wags and I will be at the inn. That's why we're leaving so early this morning."

"But you'll be marooned in some flea bag motel for days." Gloria threw up her hands, a look of horror on her face.

"The Maplehurst Inn is a first rate accommodation with big fireplaces in every room, and it accommodates pets. Besides, I haven't had a real vacation in three years. After I finish with business, I'll be able to cross-country ski and ice skate." Maura reached into the dresser drawer and pulled out a plastic zip-lock bag full of toiletries.

"Right." Gloria rolled her eyes. "I don't understand you, girl. You have a terrific job at the Jocelyn Clinic, one of the most prestigious medical facilities in Boston, in the world for that matter. Any other pharmacist with a specialty in diabetes would give her eyeteeth for your position. I know how hard you've worked to get there, and now you're just up and leaving because--"

"Drop it, Gloria," Maura interrupted, dreading the course of the conversation. "We've been through this at least fifty times. You know why I have to go, and I'm not changing my mind."

"Then at least wait until it's safe to travel." Gloria dropped to her knees and scratched the dog's white chin. "Talk to her, Wags. Make her see reason."

"I'll be back soon, and we'll celebrate if I like the place."

"Not if you get caught in this beast of a storm, you won't." Gloria stood. "Phone this Percival Ross. Tell him you'll look at the drugstore later. You've waited this long. What's another week or two?"

Maura dropped the plastic bag in her overnight case and zipped it up. "No way. I can't afford to risk losing this chance, and I'm not letting a little snow stop me."

"But--"

"Look, my SUV has four-wheel drive, and I have a cell phone. I'll be fine."

"You don't fool me, Maura. You're running, and we both know from what."

Maura's heart constricted with pain. "You know I've always wanted to live, and run my own business, in a small town."

"Right, but you haven't mentioned that little scenario in years. Not until--"

"End of discussion, Counselor O' Connor," Maura retorted.

"Okay." Gloria sighed. "You got to do what you got to do, but I have a bad feeling in my gut about this trip, Maura."

The skin on the back of Maura's neck prickled. Gloria was usually right when she had one of her "gut warnings."

Still, Maura had a dream to pursue and a past she wanted to forget. If this venture didn't pan out, she wanted to know as soon as possible so she could continue her quest elsewhere--anywhere except Boston--where she wouldn't be confronted with memories every day.

"I'll call you when I get to East Fairfield." Maura slipped into the hunter green jacket of her woolen pants suit.

"You mean if you get there. And don't forget this." Gloria held out the first aid kit that Maura always carried with her. "I know you're going to need it."

A chill slithering down her spine, Maura took it. "Thanks."

**

Hart MacKenzie poured the last pail of sap into the huge vat filling the flatbed of his horse-drawn wagon. Stepping down into the new-fallen snow, he replaced the bucket on the peg, driven deep into the trunk of the huge maple tree, and returned to his vehicle.

And not a minute too soon, he thought. Anticipating the storm, Hart and his crew had worked feverishly all day, trying to harvest as much of the precious liquid as possible before the storm blew in full force.

For the past week, the temperature had risen above freezing during the day, causing the sap to flow profusely. Now, the dropping mercury and driving snow stemmed it. March in Vermont tended to be unpredictable--warm one day, a blizzard the next--so Hart stayed prepared for the changes.

Keeping one step ahead of the weather plus all the other demands of running his complex of farms proved challenging. Still, he welcomed the hard work. The planning and problem solving kept his mind occupied so that at times he forgot his heartache...almost.

Hart grimaced, feeling the pain of loss, futility, and failure flood his being.

With a sigh, he hopped on the back of wagon. Standing behind the huge container of sap, he placed the cover over its mouth and released the brake. He picked up the reins, gently flicking them over the backs of his American Belgian draft horses. "Time to head home, boys."

The rest of his crew used trucks, but "The Boys" knew every tree in the sugarbush and maneuvered into places a pick-up couldn't navigate.

Flaxen manes and tails flowing against their golden coats, the animals set off, the bells on their harnesses jingling. Hart kept a firm hand on the reins. He hated the prospect of the valuable sap sloshing over the top of the vat if the geldings broke into a gallop and knocked off its cover on their way to the barn and supper.

**

"Oh, no, Wags!" Maura glanced at the dog as it pawed the window of the Jeep, its breath clouding the pane. "Can't you wait just a little while longer, girl?"

Maura returned her attention to the icy, winding country road ahead. With just ten more miles to go, she was reluctant to stop, especially since the landscape beyond the windshield resembled the whirling interior of a snow globe.

Wags whimpered again--this time more insistently--and turned her coppery head, shooting Maura a reproachful look.

"Okay! Buy me a ticket to Guilt City." She pulled onto the shoulder of the narrow road and killed the engine.

Removing the keys from the ignition, Maura slipped them into the zippered pocket of her jacket. She clipped the leash to Wag's harness and opened the door, slipping out of the Jeep. The dog leapt past her and scampered toward the edge of the road, eager for relief.

Trying to subdue her impatience, Maura closed her eyes and inhaled a deep breath of the pure, brisk air.

Suddenly, the tether jerked from her slack fingers. Her eyes popped open as Wags zoomed off like a shot after a rabbit. Maura ran, trying to grab the bright red leash trailing in the fresh snow, but she failed to catch it.

"Wags!" she yelled, sprinting after the dog. "Come back!"

Heedless, the hound continued on in frenetic pursuit, its howls echoing through the valley. Snowflakes pelted Maura's face, and her labored breaths formed big puffs of vapor in the frigid air while a pain stabbed her side.

"Wags, come back!"

Unresponsive, the animal chased its prey onto the surface of the frozen pond. The rabbit bounded away, but the heavier dog plummeted through the ice.

A scream ripped from Maura's throat. Horrified, she dashed to the water's edge as the beagle yipped, thrashing in the center of the icy pool instead of swimming to the bank.

"This way, Wags," she shouted, close to tears. "Over here!"

The dog did not respond.

No other options available, Maura crawled onto a huge fallen log projecting into the water. Wet and cold from the heavy snowfall, the trunk proved a slick perch. Heart slamming, she inched her way forward and reached for the leash, unlooping the snagged length of scarlet nylon cord from a submerged branch. She tugged Wags toward her, but as she lifted the animal, Maura lost her balance and tumbled through the thin ice with a splash.

Shock compressed the air from her lungs, and Maura felt as if she had been punched in the chest. Pain ripped through her temple. Surfacing, she gasped, noticing the sharp edge of a broken branch jutting from the log as she struggled to hold on to Wags.

Luckily, the water was just waist deep, but the frigid liquid slashed at her body like razor blades. Teeth chattering and gasping, Maura staggered to the bank, Wags a trembling weight in her arms.

Her limbs felt as if a thousands needle stabbed them. Already forming a sheen of ice, her sopping clothes pulled her down like a millstone.

If she and Wags got to the car immediately, they would have a chance. If.... Otherwise, they would soon die of exposure. Engulfed in icy agony, Maura could barely breathe or support Wags, and her vehicle seemed a hundred miles away.

Her hands and feet numb, she lurched toward the SUV but stumbled and dropped to her knees, desperately holding her pet in her aching arms.

Summoning her last reserves of strength, she began to crawl when she heard the distant tinkling of bells. She could see no one. Maura panicked. She must be in far worse condition than she realized. Hallucinations were a symptom of hypothermia!

**

Hart noticed that the wind had begun to gust harder now, scouring the surface of the snow, swirling it like a whirlwind of silver dust. Blinking against the flakes on his eyelashes, he heard the distinctive baying of a hound, followed by the cries of a woman.

Who was on his land? His housekeeper, Cory Wilkins, was the only female on the place. By now though, she would have left for the bungalow she shared with her husband, Ben, his foreman. Their wagons full, his crew left for the sugarhouse two hours ago.

As he directed the horses around the hill, a scream echoed through the valley. Hart forgot about the sap and urged the team to a gallop. Rounding the bend in the road, he saw her slogging out of one of the stock ponds.

Hart's gut clenched with fear. The space between them spanned less than a hundred feet now, but the distance seemed to spread before him like a limitless expanse of cold, murderous white, and every second counted.

Finally reaching her, he leapt from the wagon, kneeling beside her and the dog she held close. He immediately noticed the blood on her temple.

"Please," she whispered, desperation haunting her deep green eyes as her body quaked with shivers. "Help me and Wags." Her lids drooped shut, but she continued, "So cold...."

"Try to relax. We're going someplace warm," Hart answered, unable to bear the thought of another woman dying in his arms.

Her long, brown hair and green pants suit crackled with encrusted ice as he lifted her. No other place available, he set her over the cover of the collecting vat. Next, he snatched up the dog, placing it beside her.

Hart squinted through the thick curtain of falling snow. The SUV on the road probably belonged to her. From the skis on the roof, he concluded that she was a tourist. Almost certainly she would have dry clothes in the vehicle.

Should he take her there first, put on the heater, and try to warm her? Or maybe he should head for the house since he couldn't be sure she had left the car unlocked. Every second counted!

He swore under his breath as he struggled with the frozen zippers. They finally yielded, and he fished through her icy pockets. Keys in hand, he urged the Belgians to the car. Securing the brake and reins, he rushed to the Jeep and turned the ignition, switching on the heater full blast.

Relieved, he felt a stream of warm air rush forth—a sign the engine was still hot. Good! That meant she had stopped recently and had not been exposed to the elements for too long.

Hart rushed to her, lifting into his arms, and lay her lengthwise on the bench seat. He returned for the dog and placed the animal on the floor where warm air jetted out. With the aid of the key dangling from its handle, he popped open the valise on the back seat and rummaged through it, finally finding a sweat suit, thick socks, gloves, and thermal underwear.

The beagle whined.

"You'll be fine, dog." He noticed the ice quickly melting from its smooth, tri-colored coat.

Maura opened her eyes, and he noticed that her pupils were not dilated. That meant her hypothermia was not severe, and the wound on her temple caused no internal damage though it might need stitches. The cut was congealed with blood so he couldn't tell.

"I'm going to undress you, miss."

Shivering, she nodded and closed her eyes again.

Working fast, Hart carefully removed her boots and sodden outer clothing, heaping them on the floor of the back seat. He hesitated slightly as he slipped his arm beneath her and raised her torso forward. Supporting her back, he drew off her turtleneck.

A long time had elapsed since he had touched a woman so intimately. Hart unhooked her bra and inhaled a hint of her perfume. He placed her down on the seat again and slid the straps from her shoulders, discarding the bra to the mound of wet clothes.

Hard, relentless shivers continued to rack her slim, lovely body.

Taking a deep breath, he pulled her panties free and dressed her as quickly as he could, grateful he saw no signs of frostbite as he covered her delicate hands with gloves and her small feet with socks.

Hart now rode the horns of another dilemma. Should he hurry home or drive to the hospital twenty miles away? In this weather the trip would take much longer because of the icy conditions and poor visibility. At this time of afternoon, the roads would be congested with traffic because everyone would be leaving work to hurry home, making the likelihood of an accident greater.

The woman needed warmth immediately.

He ran to the wagon, released the brake, and hitched up the reins. With a slap and a yell, he prodded the Belgians toward the barn then dashed back to the car. He gently propped her up on the seat and slid behind the wheel.

"Wags," she called out.

"Wags is okay," he answered.

Shifting the Jeep into drive, he picked up her car phone. His stomach churned as he punched in the number to Doc Murray's office. Forced to dial it so many times before, he knew it by heart. Doc's nurse answered.

"Ella, this is Hart MacKenzie. I have an emergency at Sugarbush Farm. Is Doc there?"

"He was just about to leave for home," Ella responded. "Hang on."

Doc answered, and Hart described the circumstances. "I hate to bother you, but...uh, I think you should examine her, and would you bring some antibiotic cream on your way here? I'm all out."

"Do I need my suturing kit?"

Hart knew what Doc wanted him to say, but he couldn't utter the words. Instead, he answered, "Yeah."

They hung up, and he stole a quick, anxious glance at his passenger who appeared to be unconscious although violent shivers still racked her mercilessly. But that was a good sign. Her body was fighting the cold, and at least the heater had melted the ice on her hair.

Reaching the farmhouse, Hart parked in the drive, and Ben hustled to the vehicle.

"What the heck is goin' on? Where's the sugar wag--" Ben's faded blue eyes betrayed his surprise as he looked at the woman.

Hart explained as he hurried to the passenger side, opened the door, and lifted her out.

"You gonna call Doc Murray?" Ben asked.

Hart knew what Ben, like Doc, wanted to hear, but he had to disappoint him too. "I just did. There's a phone in her car. Would you grab my keys and get the dog. I can't manage the door with her in my arms."

"Sure thing." The older man took the keys from the ignition. Picking up the animal, he hurried to unlock the back door.

"Let's put them in the living room," Hart instructed. "The wood stove will keep them warm if we lose electric power."

"Ayuh, the way this storm is blowin' that's gonna happen anytime," Ben remarked.

Entering the back, they trudged into the mudroom and through the house to the living room.

Hart welcomed the warmth diffusing from the soapstone stove inserted in the huge fieldstone fireplace.

Ben placed the beagle on the hand-hooked rug beside it. Removing the leash and harness from the dog, his foreman covered the animal with the multicolored afghan he pulled from the armchair.

"Ben would you get me a towel and put it over the armrest of the couch," Hart asked, the woman still in his arms.

Ben got one from the linen closet. Hart placed the woman down on the chintz-covered sofa in front of the hearth. Cushioning her head with pillows, he allowed her wet hair to drape over the upholstered armrest.

"Guess we won't expect you in the sugarhouse tonight. It's my guess you'll be busy." Ben nodded toward the woman.

"Doc may decide to put her in the hospital," Hart said, hurrying to the hall closet.

"If an ambulance can get through that mess outside." Ben shook his iron-gray head. "This is the worst Nor'easter I've seen in years. In any case, the crew and I will make our usual night of it, boilin' down today's sap."

"I'm glad they got theirs in earlier. Most of mine is probably lost. 'The Boys' are galloping to the barn as we speak." Hart retrieved several quilts and put them over the stove.

"I'll get her bags in case you need somethin' from them," Ben announced, moving toward the back door.

Hart bounded upstairs and returned with a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, cotton balls, bandages, his blow dryer, and four gel packs, which he immediately heated in the microwave. Wrapping the packs in tea towels, he placed one at her neck, one under each armpit, and one at her groin.

He hurried into the den and grabbed up his stethoscope. Her heartbeat sounded strong despite her ordeal. Propping her forward, he listened to her lungs. No problem there either, he thought, setting her down again. Removing the stethoscope, he placed it on the coffee table, feeling fortunate he had found her before serious hypothermia set in.

He took the warm blankets from the stove and wrapped them around her. Moistening the cotton with the peroxide, he dabbed the bloody cut. It began to ooze again, but it appeared superficial and didn't require stitches. He left it undressed, waiting for Doc to arrive with the antibiotic cream as Hart examined her skull for other injuries.

Finding none, he slid the diffuser on the dryer so the loud whirring wouldn't wake her and tripped the switch. The heat caused tiny ringlets to spring to life around her hairline as soft natural waves formed in her shimmering cascade of golden-brown hair.

Instinctively, he reached out and touched the strands, aglow with highlights of red and gold. Its texture felt like fine silk.

He jerked his hand back as Ben tramped in with her luggage.

Hart chided himself. He had no business touching her that way. What the blazes was the matter with him?

Placing the bags down, the older man commented, "She's got a few day's supply of dog food here too. Incidentally, I put that heap of wet clothes in the washer."

"Thanks, Ben," he answered, noticing that the woman's color had improved, and her shivering had decreased.

"Ayuh, Lonny and I'll go collect the sap and tend to the horses now if you don't need anythin' else here, Hart."

"Fine. Make sure someone rubs 'The Boys' down and gives them an extra flake of hay with their grain."

"Sure thing," Ben answered, walking away.

Hart heard him exit the back just as the front doorbell rang. He quickly strode to the entrance hall and opened the door.

Bag in hand, wearing his hunting jacket and cap, Dr. Murray stood almost as wide as he was tall. Hart couldn't look at the leprechaun of a man without feeling his gut knot.

"Come on in, Doc."

The old physician wiped his boots on the thick doormat and entered. "Well, where is she?"

"In there." Hart tilted his head toward the living room. "She's sleeping now, but her vitals are strong."

Doc shot him a surprised look. "So you examined her!"

Hart shrugged. "Superficially. You want to do a more thorough one?"

"You never gave a superficial examination in your life, Dr. Mackenzie." Doc gave him a baleful stare. "Furthermore, it's about time you reconsidered your crazy decision."

"No way. My mind is made up." Hart clenched his fists as the floodwaters of pain carried him away on a torrent of grief. He missed practicing medicine, but....

"If you came back you'd be able to keep your property in town," Doc enticed.

Hart's family had owned the building for generations. Now, because he'd given up his practice and no longer had the same income, Hart had to put it up for sale to meet the final payment of his expensive divorce settlement, which caused serious cash flow problem.

The whole affair made him angry, but he had to bite the bullet and sell. "Percival Ross is retiring anyway. The place will probably stay empty for a long time."

Doc shook his head and reached in his pocket, handing Hart the tube of antibiotic cream.

"Look, Doc, I think you better do an examination since I'm no longer officially practicing."

"You’re the best doctor I ever worked with so I'm not wasting my time. Does she need the hospital?"

"Not in my opinion but--"

"That's good enough for me." Doc handed Hart the antibiotic cream. "Did you suture her?"

"She didn't need it."

The older man started toward the door. He hesitated before he opened it and turned. Behind his rimless glasses, the man's gray gaze pierced Hart's. "The people in this town need you, Hart. I can't practice forever."

"Sorry, Doc."

"A darn shame." Doc opened the door and plodded through the driving snow to his Ford Explorer.

Turning back to the woman, Hart squeezed the antibiotic cream on a piece of gauze. He dabbed it gently on her cut, then applied a nonstick Band-Aid.

Picking up the empty bandage containers, he entered the kitchen and threw them away, making a mental note to buy some more supplies next time he went to town.

The pot of coffee that Cory always left for him smelled delicious, and he poured a mug, stirring in milk and sugar. Sipping the hot brew, he stood in front of the window above the sink and stared outside.

The wind wailed through the bare hardwoods, sculpting deep drifts and swaying the pines. Dusk had fallen, and the raging storm mirrored the turmoil in his heart. He turned away, determined to keep his tortured regrets at bay.

Besides, he needed to watch the woman.

He downed his coffee and returned to the living room, sinking into an overstuffed chair. She was hardly trembling at all now.

He studied her face. Her slim, short nose turned up slightly, and the shape of her mouth reminded him of a cupid's bow. For the first time in the two years since his divorce, he wondered what it would be like to kiss a woman.

Stop it, Hart. She's your patient. But he hadn't practiced medicine since his mother died a year ago.

Furthermore, after his wife left, he'd been so depressed, he hadn't wanted a woman. After his divorce became final, he'd dated some, but he never found anyone who even remotely sparked his interest--until now.

Suddenly, this woman, whose name he didn't even know, intruded into his life, reminding Hart that he still had a man's needs.

The beagle woke. Standing on white paws, the dog yawned widely, shook its head, and looked up at him with limpid, soulful eyes.

Hart stooped, picking up the dog afghan and all. "Hungry?" he whispered as it licked his cheek.

Hart made for the kitchen, picking up a can of food from the woman's luggage on the way. Serving the lamb and rice on a paper plate, he placed it on the wide planks of the maple floor along with a bowl of water and watched the dog slowly lap up the meal.

Suddenly, the woman shouted, "Wags!"

**

Maura bolted upright, but the room spun into a blur of colors and lights, causing her to close her eyes and flop back against the sofa.

"Steady," a gentle voice admonished. "Your dog is fine."

She opened her eyes, and the fuzzy image sharpened into focus. Wags in arms, the man she'd seen in the snow stood over her. So, he hadn't been just a hallucination.

Hypnotized, Maura stared into a pair of cobalt blue eyes framed with black brows and lashes. She closed her lids and shook her head. Something must be wrong with her vision. No one's eyes are that blue. But they were she discovered, opening her eyes again. And the rest of him was just as attractive.

Thick, jet hair waved ever so slightly over the collar of his red and white plaid shirt. A straight, chiseled nose projected above a full, sensuous mouth and wonderfully strong jaw.

"How are you feeling?" He placed Wags in her arms.

Maura hugged her. "As if I've been hit by an eighteen wheeler."

"Feeling any nausea or dizziness?" he asked.

"No," she answered. "But where am I, and how did I get here?"

"You're in my house, Sugarbush Farm. I'm Hart MacKenzie."

"Maura Egan. You saved our lives, Mr. MacKenzie." With effort, she extended her hand.

"Hart." He smiled, taking hold of it.

"Hart," she repeated. The touch of his warm palm caused the room to fade away, and everything about him seemed more distinct. Maura drank in every intoxicating detail of him, from the scent of his after-shave to the sexy way his tall, lumberjack body filled out his shirt and jeans.

Self-consciously, she withdrew her hand and broke eye contact. "Uh, Wags thanks you too."

Glancing up again, she saw the smile become an enthralling grin. Get a grip, Maura. Starting with your Dad, the men in your life always end up hurting you. Besides, a guy this handsome is probably married or at least involved elsewhere.

"How did you find me?"

"I heard you scream and saw you stumble out of one of my ponds." He chuckled. "Don't you think it's a little chilly for swimming?"

"Don't remind me." She shuddered.

"You need to drink something hot. We don't want you dehydrating."

The pressure in her bladder expanded urgently, and she bit her bottom lip. "Before we do that, I need to use the bathroom, but I'm afraid to get up, judging from what happened last time I tried. Would you call your wife to help me please?"

A muscle in his jaw twitched. "There is no wife. I live here alone."

"Oh!" She glanced down at her sweat suit. So he did say he was going to undress her! The way she'd kept dozing and waking, Maura was confused about what really had happened and what she dreamed.

Clearly uncomfortable, he looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. "Look, I don't want you to get the wrong impression. You were soaked through to the skin. I had to...uh, look, I'm a doctor."

But very sexy doctor, she thought. Feeling her cheeks flame, she stared down into her lap, unable to meet his gaze. "I-I would have done the same thing. I mean had the situation been reversed."

"Let's get you to the bathroom." He seemed eager to change the subject, and setting Wags down, he helped Maura to her feet.

At full height, the top of her head came to his wide shoulders. His arm around her waist, Hart supported her weight as they made their way to the bathroom. Contact with his hard body made her feel safe somehow.

"I think I'll be all right now. I'll hold on to this." She grabbed the towel bar affixed to the wall, trying to stabilize her wobbly legs.

"Fine. I'll be close by. Yell if you need me." He left, closing the door behind him.

The necessities and requisite hygiene completed, Maura studied her reflection in the mirror on the medicine chest. Her skin appeared as pale as chalk, her eyes dull, sunken, with dark semicircles beneath them. She hoped the wound on her temple would not scar.

Holding the blue granite vanity, she eased to the door. Tomorrow she had an important appointment to keep. She refused to let a little, cold dousing prevent her from moving forward with her plans. Anyway, after a good night's sleep, she'd probably feel lots better by then. She opened the door and rested against the jamb.

He walked from the living room. "You should have called me." Hart's voice rang with reprimand as he put his arm around her waist.

Though weary to the bone, Maura's body responded intensely, startling her. "I'm all right." She tried to pull away.

He ignored her gesture. "Sure you are."

They re-entered the living room, and Maura reclined on the sofa, feeling the cushions softly contour to her body.

He covered her. "Now, when was the last time you ate?"

"Lunch time."

He looked at his watch. It's after seven. "No wonder you're unsteady."

"Wags needs to be fed."

"That's been done." He made a quick exit.

As he walked away, Maura admired the way he filled out his jeans. But right now, a romance was the last thing she needed.

Jason's aristocratic face flashed into her thoughts like a snapshot, and Maura felt the old pain assault her heart. She should have known their relationship would never work. He was Beacon Hill, and she was South Boston.

After a year, he gave her the brutal truth. He needed someone socially acceptable. Jason planned to run for political office and wanted a socialite wife who knew how to entertain dignitaries.

Tears threatened, but she blinked them away and slowly sat up as Hart marched in and placed a tray with two bowls of soup and a plate of crackers on her lap.

"Chicken with rice," he announced, lifting a bowl and spoon and setting them on the coffee table. "My housekeeper made it from scratch this afternoon."

"Right now, I'd welcome anything warm." Even boiled yak, she thought. "I didn't know it was possible to feel so cold."

"I can imagine." He sat on the floor. "Dig in."

She took a spoonful, savoring the delicious broth as it warmed a trail down her gullet. The sensation felt glorious and comforting.

"Good?" He looked at her expectantly.

She liked his nice casual manner. "Wonderful."

"Why did you stop here?" He lifted a spoonful of soup to his sensuous mouth.

Maura watched him in fascination as she recounted Wags' adventure between mouthfuls of soup.

"I thought it must have been something like that." He put his empty bowl on the tray. "I noticed your skis. You on vacation?"

"Sort of. I'm in town to look at a business for sale. It's been ages since I had a vacation so I decided to take one and mix business with pleasure."

"The only business I know of that's for sale is the pharmacy."

"Right." She nodded. "I'm a registered pharmacist. From what Mr. Ross said, the situation is just what I have been looking for since the building is for sale too."

Hart stared at her, and his eyes seemed to ignite like the blue flames of a gas burner. "Damn!" He stood suddenly, hitting the coffee table and jarring the china.

Shocked, Maura looked up at him. Did he have some sort of personality disorder? Judging from her past experience with men, that would just be her luck.

Chapter Two

He'd really made a fool of himself, but his anger had been triggered like a reflex action. Still, he shouldn't direct his resentment about having to sell his property toward her. She knew nothing about the situation.

Maura had just been through a serious trauma, and she didn't need any more stress. From the look in her eyes, she probably thought she was stranded with a homicidal maniac.

"Sorry, Maura. I didn't mean to startle you. I, uh, just remembered something I have to do," he lied, trying to cover his faux pas.

She needed rest rather than the story of his divorce. Besides, he had no desire to explain the situation to a total stranger.

A look of relief flickered over her beautiful face, and she exhaled a pent-up breath. "For a minute I thought...." She waved her hand. "Never mind."

"Is there anything else I can get for you?"

"Not right now, thanks." She put a hand to her mouth, covering a yawn.

"Well, I'll let you get back to sleep."

Hart gathered the dishes and returned to the kitchen. Loading the dishwasher, he started it. He wanted to get them washed. If the power lines went down, he only used the house generator for important things like the well pump and the hot water heater.

Still unnerved by the events of the day, he tried to unwind, but his taut muscles refused to relax, especially when he recalled the sight of Maura's beautiful body. The memory recurred like a haunting melody, provoking a powerful reaction. But that had to stop.

He didn't want to get involved with any woman until he was sure that she wanted him for himself and not the lifestyle or social position she thought he could provide. That was what went wrong with his marriage.

Lorna. Blond and aristocratic, she looked like a fashion model. She was unlike anyone he'd ever known, and he fell--hard. They had married six months after they met, but the honeymoon soon came to an abrupt halt.

Lorna had expected him to join her father's society practice in Providence, Rhode Island, even though Hart had been truthful about his plans from the very beginning. She resented the fact that he chose instead to return to Vermont, becoming Doc's partner.

She loathed life in a small town where the money wasn't as lucrative as the city, and she wasn't part of the smart social set. And she didn't want children—a fact she concealed from him until after they had married.

After a year, she left. The divorce had been bitter and expensive. After that, things just got worse for him, and the past three years of his life had been filled with a series of losses and failures.

Wags slowly trailed into the kitchen and looked up at him with calm eyes.

"Need to go out?"

The beagle blinked and followed him as he headed to the mudroom. He took his hat and jacket from the peg, putting them on. Ben had left the leash and harness on the bench, and Hart slipped them on the animal.

He felt a twinge of regret, having to bring the dog out into the cold after her ordeal. Reaching for his scarf, he swaddled her body, securing the ends so they wouldn't drag.

"Come on, Wags." Once outside, he and Wags blazed a trail of boot and paw prints in the deep snow.

He looked at Maura's SUV. It was brand new, loaded with extras, and expensive. He noticed the Massachusetts license plate. He wondered what city she called home. Was it Springfield, Boston, or Worcester maybe?

Was she married or engaged? He hadn't seen any rings. Still, she could be divorced or involved with a rich lover. After all, the woman was gorgeous.

Darn. He had forgotten to ask if she wanted to call anyone. Her family members were probably worried sick about her. Well, she could call them in the morning.

The beagle's business done, he remarked, "Okay, Wags. You've had enough cold weather for one day." So had he.

As they entered the mudroom, the animal's nails tapped a rhythmic beat on the tile floor. Hart doffed his hat and jacket and removed the animal's harness, leash, and the scarf, dropping them on the long narrow bench under the peg rack secured to the wall. Wags followed him into the living room and settled on the hearthrug.

Maura lay in a deep sleep. She looked so young and so vulnerable. The flames behind the open grate of the stove cast a rosy glow on her lovely heart-shaped face.

Suddenly, lust erupted like hot lava. No. This was all wrong. Furthermore, from what he saw of her car and other belongings, she was a woman who either came from wealth or had become used to it. He couldn't afford another go-round with a gold-digging type.

Hart made a firm decision to keep his distance.

He turned away abruptly and climbed the steps to his room, undressing quickly. He usually didn't wear pajamas, but tonight he slipped them on. He intended to sleep in the recliner near Maura because she might need assistance during the night. Somehow, she did not seem like the type of woman who would appreciate the sight of a naked man parading around her.

Armed with a quilt and a pillow, he descended the stairs and settled back in the recliner, listening to her slow, even breathing. Exhausted, he closed his eyes, but even as darkness extinguished his senses, a vision of Maura, her body as curvy as a mountain road, loomed foremost in his thoughts.

**

Maura awoke to the aroma of brewing coffee and bacon. Stretching languorously, she opened her eyes. Behind the grate of the stove, orange flames writhed sinuously as they consumed the wood inside.

She heard Wags' nails tapping on the wooden floor as the beagle approached. Maura smiled. Front paws on the sofa, the dog sniffed her hand.

"Morning, girl," she greeted on a yawn. "Where have you been?" Maura stroked the animal's auburn head and scratched its white chin.

Sitting up, she glanced at the double wedding ring quilt and the big white pillow resting on the recliner, evidence that Hart MacKenzie had kept vigil a few feet from her. The knowledge that he'd been so near set her body tingling with a hot, forbidden flush. This would never do. He disturbed her in a way she couldn't allow herself to feel.

She had no time to dwell on him now. She had an important appointment to keep.

Maura sat up, encouraged when she felt no vertigo. She flung back the covers, swinging her legs over the side of the sofa. She rejoiced when she stood, even though she still felt a bit unsteady. No matter. With a little effort, she'd be out of here in no time and on to a new life.

She found her bags on the other side of the couch. Pulling out a change of clothes and her first aid kit, she headed to the bathroom.

After the icy bath yesterday, she reveled in the hot, steamy shower, feeling better already.

**

Hart took the sizzling bacon from the pan, placing it on a plate lined with a paper towel, when he heard the water running.

So, she had finally awakened and was taking a shower. The vision of her naked, glistening with water, caused his body to react powerfully. He had to stop this. He should be concerned about her being strong enough not to fall while showering.

Damn! He had been without a woman too long. That was the reason he was responding this way. Well, he had better put a bridle on his runaway emotions, or he would end up hurt again.

Besides, Maura intended to buy his property. Irrational though it was, Hart couldn't help feeling resentment toward her. But there wasn't any help for the situation. He wanted to pay the final installment of his divorce settlement so he could get on with his life and never have to think of Lorna again.

But you will think of her every time you pass the place.

Bathed, dressed, and the bandage changed, Maura stepped into the living room.

"What are you doing out of bed? Don't you realize you're still weak and could have fallen in the shower?" Hart's voice held an accusatory ring.

Startled, she turned. "I didn't hear you coming."

"That's obvious." He pointed to his feet with the serving spoon he held.

She looked at the slippers on his feet.

"But you didn't answer my question."

"I'm feeling much better." She put her first aid supplies into her over-night bag. "In fact, I'll just get dressed and be on my way."

"I don't think so." He shook his head slowly.

The winter light did marvelous things to the perfect symmetry of his features.

"I'm fine, really!"

Wags trotted to Hart and sat at his feet, gazing up at him with adoration in her eyes. Maura felt jealous.

"I'm the doctor here." He reached down and ran his palm over the beagle's smooth coat. "I'm ordering you to rest for a couple of days."

"That's ridiculous!"

"No, it's not. Besides you can't go anywhere. There's about five feet of snow on the ground. In some places, the drifts are six to seven feet."

Maura anxiously hurried to the window and turned back to him, her heart sinking. "And it's still coming down!"

"The weather report says this is the worst storm in twenty years. Power lines are down all over New England. In fact, I heard on the radio that the highways look like parking lots 'cause people had to abandon their cars."

"The snow got too deep." She sighed.

He nodded. "Folks just left them and walked to the nearest shelter. Incidentally, the governor declared a state of emergency."

Darn! Maura didn't want to stay. She hated to have her plans interrupted. "No one can loan me a snowmobile to get to the Maplehurst Inn? I had reservations."

"I've got two of them, but you probably lost your room. The lodges and motels are packed with stranded travelers."

"If there's no power, how did you hear the news?"

"Portable radio."

"Duh!" Stewing with frustration, Maura dropped onto the sofa. "I suppose it'll take days to get things back to normal."

"A couple of weeks is more like it."

"A couple of weeks?" She felt like screaming. The storm made a shambles of her plans. She would call Percival Ross and set up another appointment. After all, he had to be snowbound too.

Meanwhile, she'd just have to remain cooped up with a man who turned her thoughts to fantasies she had no business entertaining.

"You wouldn't have a cell phone, would you?"

"Yeah. You can use it later." He peered at her. "I see you changed your bandage."

"Yeah, I always carry first aid supplies with me."

A surprised expression on his face, he leaned against the doorjamb. "I wished I'd known that."

"Why?"

"Never mind. Are you hungry?"

Actually, her stomach thought her throat had been cut. "A little."

"Good." He nodded.

Despite her resolve, her gaze rested on the wide expanse of his shoulders, and she wondered what he looked like without his shirt. The thought caused her cheeks to flame. If she kept this up, they wouldn't be the only things that were hot. She had to stop this right now!

"Now, if you get back in bed, I'll bring a tray," Hart remarked.

"I'll sit at the table."

"You're suppose to rest."

"I'm not an invalid," she answered defiantly.

He pulled a wry face. "Suit yourself. Let's eat." He turned and started toward the kitchen. "I have a lot to do, and I want to get going."

"You don't need to wait for me if you have to run to the hospital or something. I don't need a nursemaid."

He stopped in his tracks, and she almost collided with him. "You're in my care and I'm responsible for you."

Hands on hips, she answered, "You are not. No one is responsible for anyone else--at least not another able-bodied adult."

He smiled smugly. "Able-bodied is the key word, but you must feel better since you're arguing so much."

She inhaled deeply, trying to keep her temper. "I am not."

"If you're not, you should get into bed."

The suggestion, made innocently, made her body yearn. "I meant I'm not arguing," she shot back.

"You're not? Could have fooled me." His grinned widened, and he marched away.

She followed him toward the delicious odor of food into a spacious country kitchen. The room looked as if it had been recently renovated, and whoever did the job had great taste. A bay window embraced a large, round oak table surrounded by eight captain's chairs. Maple cabinetry with white ceramic knobs lined the walls. Cream granite covered the counters and a center island. A corner cupboard displayed a bright collection of stoneware. Yellow gingham curtains swagged across the tops of the windows, softening the effect, yet allowing the stunning view of the surrounding hills to become a part of the room. Close to a modern range, a huge wood-burning stove radiated heat from its place in a brick alcove.

Obviously, Hart used it for heating and cooking when he lost electricity because an old-fashioned coffeepot rested on the stove's cast iron surface. A huge stack of pancakes sat, keeping warm, on a metal platter near a plate of crisp bacon and a heap of scrambled eggs. Hart had gone through a lot of trouble to prepare breakfast.

"Have a seat." He took the pot from the stove and poured the coffee.

They sat as Wags stood by his chair, her amber eyes full of anticipation.

"I'll feed her and put her out," Maura offered, standing. "Otherwise, she'll make a pest of herself."

"She had her breakfast early this morning, and she's been out." He dropped a strip of bacon and Wags snapped it up.

"I only feed her dog food."

"A little treat won't hurt her."

"You know better than that. All that fat is not good for her or us for that matter, doctor."

"I don't eat this way often."

"Go sit, girl." Maura pointed toward the corner as the dog obeyed. Wags curled up and put a white paw over her muzzle, duly chastised.

Jabbing a pancake with her fork, she placed it on her plate as Hart piled his dish with food.

She poured syrup on her pancake, and trying to dispel the uncomfortable silence, she asked, "Do you make this syrup here?"

"The trees make it. We just boil it down."

Pedantic clod. "Excuse me. I stand corrected."

"So where do you do your drug pushing." Hart sliced through his high stack of pancakes and began making short work of them.

Maura bristled. She had overcome all the odds to become a pharmacist and was darn proud of the profession she loved. "I practice pharmacy in Boston at the Jocelyn Clinic, and I don't push pills or anything else. In fact, I don't do a whole lot of dispensing. I'm a clinical consultant."

"Jocelyn, huh?" He raised his brows. "Impressive. I take it your specialty is diabetes." He took a swig of coffee.

"Right. So where do you do your drug pushing, doctor?"

He gave her a dull stare then slammed down his mug. "I no longer practice."

She stared at him. "But I thought--"

His jaw turned to stone. "That I'm a rich doctor and play gentleman farmer for a tax break?"

"No...but you treated me."

"I could hardly leave you buried in the snow to die of hypothermia."

His sarcastic tone really brought out the fighting Irish in her. "Why not? From what I've observed, you guys always bury your mistakes."

His eyes reminded her of the blue center of a flame, and his body tensed. Maura knew she had gone too far.

Before he could retort, the cell phone rang.

Hart grabbed the receiver. "Hello." After a moment, he said, "Hang on a minute, Emily." He stood abruptly and walked away.

Had she guessed the truth? Maybe the medical board revoked Hart's license because of gross malpractice, which had resulted in someone's death or permanent injury. The speculation made her shudder.

And who was Emily? His significant other, no doubt.

His conversation over, Hart walked back into the kitchen. His gaze nailed hers. Maura put on her emotional armor and got ready for his verbal assault.

He loomed over her. "Just for the record, the reason I don't practice medicine has nothing to do with hurting a patient in my care or doing anything unethical. It's a personal decision. If you don't believe me, I can show you my license, which I keep current."

"Uh, that's your business. I just want to recover completely and leave so I can get on with my life." She broke eye contact, feeling remorseful for her spiteful remark. "And I wouldn't have made that crack about burying mistakes if you hadn't insulted my profession. I happen to be very proud of the way I earn my living and I worked darn hard to become a pharmacist."

Maura swallowed back the lump forming in her throat as she remembered attending classes in a wheel chair her last year in pharmacy school. She had broken a leg in a car accident but still managed to graduate Summa cum Laude plus keep her part time job in a pharmacy. She had had no choice but to work.

"Sorry." He raked his fingers through his hair. "I guess I haven't been the best host."

Maura noticed the anger had fled his eyes, but he was not smiling either. "It's okay. I'm an uninvited guest."

"Uh, you probably want to phone your folks and let them know you're all right."

Maura had no family, but that was none of his business. Oh, God! Gloria must be hysterical. "I have a very good friend who'll be worried about me, and I should check with the inn just in case they have a room. I guess Percival Ross needs to know what happened to me."

"He knows."

"You called him?"

"No."

"Then how does he know I'm here?"

"By now the whole county knows you're here and why."

"How?"

"My foreman, Ben, tells his wife, Cory, everything. She got on the phone. That's how Emily found out you were here."

So he decided to mention her. "Who's Emily?"

"My cousin. Of course, Doc Murray's wife also did a good bit of the broadcasting. This is a small community, and news travels fast."

"Doc Murray? How does his wife know about me?"

"I ran out of antibiotic cream. He brought me some for the scratch on your temple. If I'd known you had first aid supplies, I wouldn't have troubled him." Hart held out the phone, and his hand brushed hers as he placed it in her palm.

The contact galvanized Maura like a lightning bolt. Why did he have to exude such incredible animal magnetism?

And why was he so changeable? He saved her life one moment and was down right rude the next. She hoped she had not lost her room at the inn. She needed to get away from him.

"You need his home number?" he asked.

"No thanks. We've spoken several times. I have it memorized. I'll be right back." Maura headed for the living room, dreading the confrontation with Gloria as she dialed the number.

"Maura!" her best friend yelled into the phone. "I thought you something terrible happened to you. I had the sickest feeling in my stomach yesterday at about five o'clock. Why didn't you call me sooner? I worried all night."

**

The kitchen tidied, Hart stood by the bay window, staring at the crisp, white landscape. Its flawless clarity reminded him of Maura's skin. He closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to dispel the image of her from his mind. His efforts proved fruitless.

But he couldn't allow himself to get involved with her especially after the way she looked at him when she learned he was no longer practicing medicine. She probably couldn't comprehend how he could give up the income.

Lorna never understood that money wasn't a priority with him. His ex-wife couldn't quite get it through her head that he wanted to treat the people who needed it most.

But he wasn't fit to help anyone if he couldn't help a family member. The vision of his mother, her body wasted from cancer, gored his memory like the horns of a bull. He'd been too complacent and too wrapped up in his divorce to pay attention to her vague complaints. But the symptoms of ovarian cancer were vague.

He had to stop thinking about it or he'd go crazy.

How he wished Doc had examined Maura. His confidence gone, Hart couldn't shake the feeling that he had missed something. For what it was worth, he resolved to keep a close watch on her.

Maintaining professional distance was proving difficult. Maura really rattled his cage sexually. Why was he even entertaining these thoughts?

The odds were a hundred to one she was involved with a man. Didn't she say she needed to call a really good friend ? Right now, the guy was probably pacing the floor, waiting for her at the inn. Sure. That must be reason she was so anxious to get there.

He heard quick, light steps and turned to see Maura entering the kitchen.

"Thanks." She gave him the phone, carefully avoiding coming in contact with him.

The gesture rankled him. She couldn't even bear to touch him now that she knew he was not practicing medicine. Last night she hadn't seemed to care.

Annoyed or not, he had to appreciate the way her breasts filled out the emerald green turtleneck. Her long, chestnut hair shone like a nimbus around her pale, oval face, and her eyes reminded him of a pine forest after a spring rain.

He realized he was staring. "Uh, have another cup of coffee."

"Thank you. Want me to pour you one while I'm at it?"

"No thanks."

She sauntered to the stove. Hart stared, mesmerized by the sway of her hips, and the way her round, firm bottom fit in her beige slacks as she fixed her drink and then sat at the table.

This is crazy, he thought, watching her long, slender fingers caress the full mug. He imagined her soft, white hands stroking his naked flesh and immediately became rock hard.

He had to get away from her. "I have to check on the stock and see if the storm caused damage to the outbuildings." He planned to keep his distance from her as much as he possibly could. In a few days, she'd be gone and he'd be...lonely again.

"How are you going to get out the front door? The snow is so high."

"The guys boiled down sap last night and took turns with the plow all during the storm so we'd be able get to the barn to feed the stock. Right now, the crew is probably sleeping in the bunkhouse."

"I see," she answered.

"There's more soup in the fridge. It just needs heating. Help yourself to lunch if Cory and I don't get back in time."

She looked up at him. "Before you go, do you have something I can read? I've brought some pharmacy magazines, but I'm not in the mood to study right now."

"You're suppose to be resting."

"Okay!" She blew out an audible breath. "I'll lie down and read, but I can't sleep twenty-four hours a day!"

"You had a close call yesterday,"

"You're overdoing it, doctor."

He shrugged. "Okay. Let me show you where the books are."

**

Mug in hand, Maura admired the cozy den. Oak bookcases lined the walls from floor to ceiling, and another fieldstone hearth, complete with a wood-burning stove inserted inside, served as the focal point of the room. She noticed Hart's medical degree from Brown University hanging to the side of it.

So he was an Ivy Leaguer, but had thrown his expensive education and training away to farm. Anger surged through her, remembering how she had struggled just to get through school. But then wealthy people had enough to just throw things away without feeling a pinch.

Her life didn't allow for such luxury...or should she call it waste.

"You can nap on the sofa," Hart remarked. "I'll ask Cory to make up the guest room for you as soon as I talk to her."

"Thanks." Maura put her drink on the coffee table, noticing the medical journals strewn across it. She recognized a copy of The Lancet, and the most recent issue of The Journal of the American Medical Association. Why did he keep these periodicals around if he no longer practiced?

Well, his peculiarities were none of her concern.

She stepped to the nearest bookshelf, finally selecting a travel book about Ireland.

"Would you excuse me?" he answered. "I really need to get going."

"I told you before; I don't need a nursemaid."

He expelled a long breath and shook his head.

"You don't have to be so condescending." She glared at him.

"I'm not."

"You are."

"Have it your way." He strode out.

The room seemed to become strangely empty at his departure, but Maura fought the feeling. The man was an Ivy Leaguer, and she had gone to a state university. The gulf between them spanned too wide. She had learned that tough lesson with Jason, and she didn't need any more instructions in that particular subject.

Slipping out of her shoes, she lay on the green and white plaid sofa and placed the book across her thighs. She intended to rest for a few minutes before she began to read. She felt so tired suddenly.

**

Deciding he would be gone for a long while, Hart thought he had better put some extra logs in the stove. He walked back into the den and glanced at Maura.

She had already fallen asleep. Taking the quilt from the rack near the hearth, he walked over and covered her. Instinctively, he reached out to caress her cheek but refrained.

Lust surged, and Hart felt as if he'd been punched in the solar plexus. To be honest, he had never felt it quite so powerfully.

He'd certainly never experienced anything like this with Lorna, though he had loved her, or more precisely, he had loved the illusion she initially created.

Though he'd known Maura just a few hours, the raw, sudden emotion she provoked rocked him like an earthquake.

However, he felt more than just physical attraction. He admired her intelligence too. She had to be topnotch to get into the Jocelyn Clinic, and she certainly demonstrated a quick wit when they had argued.

For all her fire and spirit though, right now she seemed so vulnerable and fragile lying there. Maura awakened his protective instinct.

He'd have to get over it. In a few days, she'd leave Sugarbush, and things would settle down. Just put her out of your mind, Hart. But that advice made him feel cold and empty inside.

He returned to the stove, and as quietly as he could, added some logs to the fire. Turning to look at her one last time, he made a quick exit.

Chapter Three

Maura woke from her nap but did not move. Instead, she remained cuddled on the sofa, luxuriating in the delicious warmth. She felt so comfortable, so wonderfully relaxed and hadn't slept so well in weeks.

She suddenly became conscious of the colorful quilt wrapped around her. She didn't remember covering herself. Had Hart come back and put it over her? She smiled. The gesture had been really considerate and made her feel cherished--something she hadn't experienced for many years.

Hart. His tall, muscular body exuded strength, sensuality, and those cobalt-blue eyes never failed to startle her heart.

Her father had possessed that same charm. John Egan was the handsomest man in South Boston. But he gambled away his paychecks on horses or poker while she and her mother led a hand to mouth existence. Yet, he always wormed his way back into Katherine Egan's good graces until he died in an auto accident.

Grief-stricken, her mother had fallen apart. As a result, Maura matured quickly and started to work to help out financially. She was ten when she started working a paper route; at twelve, she baby-sat. By the time she turned sixteen, she found an after-school job in a pharmacy, and a whole different world opened to her.

She loved everything about the drug store, fascinated that medication often made the difference between pain and comfort, life and death. There she made her career decision.

Just before her graduation from pharmacy school, an accidental overdose of insulin took her mother's life. Stricken, Maura dedicated her life to helping other people fight the dreaded disease.

Wags wandered in and put her muzzle on the sofa.

"Is it time to go out, girl?"

Maura turned over and squinted at the clock. Quarter to five. She had slept all day! That icy dunking had taken more out of her than she realized.

"I'll bet you're desperate." Maura slowly rose and walked into the living room as Wags trotted behind her.

A chubby, snowy-haired woman looked up from the fireplace where she bent, feeding another chunk of wood into the stove. The woman straightened slowly stood and ambled toward Maura.

"Hello, dear." The bright hazel eyes behind her spectacles twinkled. "I'm Cory Wilkins."

"Pleased to meet you. I'm Maura--"

"Egan," Cory cut in, a beaming smile on her round, cheerful face. "Hart and Ben told me all about you. Poor dear." She patted Maura's shoulder. "Such a terrible experience."

"I'm fine now." Maura smiled.

"The guestroom is all made up for you, dear, and I've put your bags upstairs too. Would you like to see it, or maybe you'd like a cup of tea first and a small snack? I always leave coffee for Hart."

"I'd love some tea." She had slept right through lunch, and hunger growled in her stomach like a ravenous wolf.

"I have the table all set and the kettle on the stove. I usually have a cup at this time." The woman nodded, smiling. "That will hold you until dinner."

They walked into the kitchen. The warmth from the stove embraced Maura like a mother's hug, and the aroma of roasting meat mingled with the luscious fragrance of baking gingerbread. In a display of fantasy, Jack Frost had painted lacy patterns on the big bay window, while a Coleman lamp dispelled the gathering gloom of dusk.

Maura let Wags out into the fenced yard behind the house and quickly slammed the door on the frigid air.

"I told Hart supper would be ready by six-thirty. He and Ben are probably down at the dairy, doing the evening milking. Those Jerseys are Hart's pride and joy; beside his horses, I mean."

Maura sat and eyed the gingerbread cooling on the wire rack on the counter, and her mouth watered.

"We had Holsteins until about five years ago when Hart came back from Providence." She took the kettle from the stove and poured the water into the teapot. "He returned home and bought up the surrounding farms and the Jerseys."

"I thought farming wasn't terribly profitable," Maura ventured.

"His are," Cory affirmed proudly, sitting as well.

"How many does he have?"

"Four. All have sugarbushes." Cory poured the steeped tea into the cups.

"How will he get his milk to market in this weather?" Maura asked.

"We don't sell milk. We make Vermont Cheddar. He sells it to all those fancy gourmet shops around the country."

Maura fixed her tea as she listened attentively.

"We have an old fashioned mill too," Cory continued, "at one of the adjacent farms, Cross Winds. One of the men here mills the special wheat raised there for gourmet bread and pancake flour. Hart is thinking of selling breakfast baskets through a mail-order house."

"Sounds like he's quite successful," Maura commented. However, she couldn't help wondering why he gave up medicine. Did he become a doctor to please a parent and then discovered he hated the profession?

"Oh, he is, dear. He has business people from all over the country visiting. He puts them up in a chalet he built just for that purpose over at Cross Winds. Of course, he made a great deal more money when he was practicing medicine too."

Maura wanted to ask Cory why he stopped, but she didn't want her to think she was prying. Besides, Wags scratched at the door.

"Excuse me." Maura stood. "I'd better let her in."

Tail wagging, the beagle bounded in, settling near the big, old stove, and Maura resumed her seat at the table, sipping her tea.

"Would you like gingerbread to go with that tea, dear?"

Maura thought Cory would never ask. She really shouldn't eat such a sweet dessert before supper. It would spoil her appetite, but she moved into a mode of self-indulgence. "I sure would. It's my favorite."

"Hart just loves it," Cory remarked as she rose and set the gingerbread on a plate. "He has ever since he was a small boy."

Cory put a thick, moist slab of warm gingerbread, topped with a fluff of whipped cream, in front of her.

Maura put a forkful into her mouth, savoring the luscious taste and rich textures on her tongue. "Mrs. Wilkins, you're a genius."

"Thank you, dear, but call me Cory. Everyone else does."

Maura noticed that the woman eyed the gingerbread but didn't take a slice. "You're not going to have one?"

"No. I have diabetes, and Doc wants me to lose weight."

Maura's interest focused sharply.

"Hart said that's your specialty." Cory poured two cups of tea.

Maura smiled. "That's right." She wondered what else he had told Cory about her. Had he revealed that they didn't really get along very well?

"I certainly hope you buy the pharmacy. I know chain drugstores are the current trend, but folks around here love that old place. Ben used to take me there when we were courting, and he'd buy me strawberry ice cream sodas."

"I hope things work out too." Maura really liked this kind, unpretentious woman.

Cory squinted at her watch. "Gosh, what's keepin' Ben?"

"Are you having trouble with your eyes?"

"Oh, don't worry, dear. I know diabetes can cause detached retinas, but Doc Murray says my eyes are healthy. I just need new glasses."

Maura heard the back door open. Hart and an older man entered the mudroom adjoining the kitchen. Laying his gloves on the bench, he hung his parka on one of the wall pegs then walked toward the table. Melting snowflakes starred his dark hair and flecked the other man's hat and thick plaid jacket.

"Well," Hart remarked, "You two look cozy."

Maura tried to read his mood, but his eyes seem shuttered. She hoped he didn't start knocking her profession or deliberately try to get on her nerves. If he did, she wasn't putting up with it. She'd find some way to leave this place.

"Just getting acquainted." Cory smiled. "You didn't tell me how pretty she is, Hart."

"Guess it just slipped my mind." Hart didn't smile as he reached into a cabinet and brought out another Coleman lamp. He set it on the counter top and lit it, augmenting the fading afternoon light. "Gingerbread smells wonderful, Cory." Hart walked to her. Bending down, he kissed her cheek.

Cory beamed.

The older man came forward. "Looks as if both my wife and employer have forgotten their manners. "I'm Ben Wilkins." He lifted his cap from his head, revealing a thick thatch of iron-gray hair. "Glad to see you're feeling better."

Maura stood. Moving toward him, she extended her hand. "Thanks. I'm pleased to meet you, Mr. Wilkins."

A big smile split his face as he shook it heartily. "I ask all beautiful women to call me Ben, ain't that right, Cory?"

"That's what you told me forty years ago, Ben. You might try a fresh approach."

"Why mess with somethin' that works?" He shot his wife a rakish look.

Maura giggled, liking Ben immediately.

"You ready to go darlin'?" Ben looked at his wife.

"Yes, dear." Cory stood and walked to the back door. "We'll see you tomorrow," she said, taking her coat from one of the pegs.

"Hart, since we've plowed the back field, why don't you hitch the team and take Maura for a sleigh ride?" Ben suggested, helping Cory slip into her coat.

"She needs a few more days rest before she braves the cold," Hart muttered, a guarded look flickering over his face.

He probably didn't appreciate Ben's clumsy efforts at matchmaking, Maura thought.

Whistling, Ben followed Cory out into the wintry twilight.

Hart turned toward Maura, and his gaze struck hers like flint, causing excitement to flare. She tamped down the feeling. From all the evidence she'd gathered, Maura concluded she was not in Hart MacKenzie's social class. She definitely needed to avoid him.

Maura gathered the tea dishes, putting them in the sink to set the table for supper. She would try to make polite conversation during the evening meal. If Hart continued his baiting act, she would retire to her room.

"Just leave those for now, and let's have dinner in the dining room," Hart suggested. "I'll light the fireplace."

The dining room had the cozy, romantic atmosphere of an old country inn--a place to dine with a lover. If he planned a seduction, he had a long wait. She wouldn't let any man toy with her again.

And yet...the idea of his lips on hers and his arms around her sent a ripple of excitement through her. This would never do. Maura did her best to banish the fantasy.

As she reached into the cabinet and took down the sturdy stoneware plates, a strained silence pervaded the kitchen. Maura became more uptight. Of course, her unrelenting desire only increased the tension.

"I'll be right back." He picked up his flashlight from a shelf in the broom closet and descended to the cellar. A few minutes later, he returned with a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon and one of Riesling.

The platters of food filled, he and Maura carried them into the dining room. As he placed two wineglasses on the table, Wags appeared on the threshold, whining plaintively.

"Excuse me a minute. I want to feed her. I couldn't enjoy my dinner, knowing she was hungry."

"Still keeping the poor thing on a diet?"

So he was already beginning his harangue. "Yes," she answered tersely, leaving the room. "As a physician you know the importance of good nutrition." Darn him!

Maura returned, noticing he had lit the fire and was pouring the Cabernet. Excitement flared, and she grasped the back of the chair.

He looked up. "Upset about something?"

So, he got satisfaction out of unsettling her. Well, she refused to play his little power game. "Should I be?"

He shrugged and smirked. "How should I know? But you're clutching the chair back so tight, your knuckles are white."

Self-consciously, she released it. "Actually, I was just thinking that I couldn't remember the last time I had any wine."

"Do you want something else?" He carefully set the bottle down.

"No." She rarely drank alcohol, but perhaps the wine would relax her. After supper, she'd go to her room and shut the door, literally and figuratively, on Hart MacKenzie.

He moved to her, pulling out her chair and helping her to sit then took his own seat.

An uneasy silence descended on them like a heavy snowfall. Hart quickly devoured the meal of crisp, green salad, roast pork, baked potatoes, glazed carrots, creamed onions, and a big square of gingerbread with whipped cream.

Annoyed with him and herself for feeling so attracted to him, Maura barely nibbled, but she drained her glass of wine.

"Don't you like the food?"

"Uh, yes, but I guess the gingerbread I had at tea spoiled my appetite."

"So it's just the dog you keep on a diet." He grinned, a look of mockery in his eyes.

"Are you suggesting I need to be on one?"

"No." His gaze lingered on her breast. "Definitely not."

She should be annoyed at his obvious leer. Instead, she wondered why his eyes seemed to shine like the Atlantic on a summer day? She imagined him at the beach, clad in a bathing suit, his muscles flexing with strength. How would it feel to linger in his embrace?

What was she thinking? She needed to settle her nerves. Hand trembling, Maura lifted her glass and took another large swallow of the dry, red wine. She couldn't think of anything to say, and the long pauses in conversation caused her nerves to frazzle.

Well, when all else failed, a person could always try talk about the weather. "Uh, have you heard the weather report?"

He swished the wine around in his glass. "No more snow for a while, but the temperature is suppose to drop. Ten degrees is the predicted high for the week."

"Oh." She frowned. "I hoped it would warm up. Then the road crews would have an easier time."

"Don't worry. Once you've rested, I'll loan you the snowmobile to get to Percival's place."

"Thanks. I spoke with him this morning. He said there was no rush since I'd had a mishap."

"So then what's the problem?" He slammed down his dessert fork.

His vehemence ignited her temper, and she rose. "Not that it's any of your business, but I was concerned about Maplehurst Inn. Their line was busy all morning, then I fell asleep. Since I grate on your nerves so badly, I thought you'd be as glad to be rid of me as I'll be to leave." She stood, intending to go.

Hart caught her wrist. "You don't grate on my nerves. Why don't you sit down and finish dinner?"

Despite her anger, the touch of his hand sent a hot jolt of desire through her, causing her to start inwardly. Chill out, Maura . She slipped her hand from his. "I'd better see if my reservations are still open. If so, I'll be glad to pay for the rental of the snowmobile," she added, walking from the room.

**

Disgusted with himself, Hart stood and began to clear the table. He'd been about as suave as Attila the Hun so what the did he expect? He needed to exercise some tact, especially while she was still recuperating. What had gotten into him?

But mention of Percival reminded him that he had to sell the pharmacy, or mortgage it heavily, which he hated worse than selling— almost--because he wanted to get a loan for his mail order house.

Besides, being curt and rude toward her to convince himself Maura was wrong for him was proving an ineffective strategy. She still excited him to no end, making him act like a kid in junior high. Putting physical space between them didn't work any better. She'd haunted his thoughts all day.

Why was he getting so hot and bothered? She had a wealthy guy waiting for her at the inn. His stomach churning with envy, he washed the dishes in record time, stacking them on the drain board to dry then put the leftovers in the fridge. All the while, he tried to forget Maura's flashing green eyes.

Trying to shift his lust from overdrive to park, Hart gulped back the last dregs of the Cabernet. Furthermore, he owed her an apology. He had behaved like a prize idiot--again.

Wags scratched at the door, and he let her in. Taking two clean glasses and the bottle of Riesling, he walked into the living room as Maura put down the phone.

"Did you get through?"

"Finally. It took five tries, and then they put me on hold for about five minutes." Discouragement on her face, she sat on the floor, and Wags curled up in her lap. "You were right. I lost my reservation. They're filled to capacity with stranded people. The desk clerk said he didn't know when they'd have a vacancy and promised the management would return my deposit. I guess you're stuck with me." She grimaced.

The prospect did not bother him except that it was going to be damned hard keeping his hands off of her even though she didn't seem in the least interested.

That was an understatement. She had been outright antagonistic, but he had goaded her into that attitude. She'd behave with perfect civility until he started needling her.

Furthermore, her look of disappointment hit him like a punch in the stomach. She couldn't wait to get out of here, and after the way he had acted, he couldn't blame her. She was alone, vulnerable and a guest in his house, and he'd given her shabby treatment.

"Maura, I'm sorry. I've been acting like a fool." He handed her a glass of wine.

"Thanks." She took a gulp of it.

"Well?"

She looked up at him. "Well what?"

"Will you accept my apology?"

"It would be a lot easier if I knew why you don't like me."

Damn. Her assumption couldn't be further from the truth. "I don't dislike you, Maura."

"You don't?" She raised an eyebrow and shot him a skeptical look.

He sat on the sofa, but she stayed on the floor, keeping distance between them.

"Maybe not, but it's obvious you disapprove of me, Hart."

"That's not true. Whatever gave you that idea?"

She rolled her eyes.

"Sorry, I guess I did. Couldn't we start over?"

Wariness flickered across her face. "I suppose. On certain conditions."

"Such as?"

"No more sarcastic remarks about me, my work, or what I feed Wags."

He quirked an eyebrow. "You gave as good as you got, but okay. It's a deal."

"I guess I can be little argumentative." She gazed at the floor, a shy look on her face, and took another sip of wine.

"A little," he jibed. "You have a gift for understatement."

She looked up, glaring at him. "So now are you saying I'm a shrew?"

Things were getting out of hand again. He'd better change the subject. "No, not at all. Uh, incidentally, did you get through to your guy?" What made him say that? He'd better lay off the wine.

She frowned and shook her head. "What guy?"

"You mentioned you have a very good friend who would be worried. I assumed he was waiting for you at the inn."

"Oh, no. That's Gloria, and she's back in Boston. She didn't want me to drive here in the storm, and...there is no man." She took another sip of wine.

Maybe she was waiting for a rich one. There were plenty of wealthy men in Boston. Beacon Hill abounded with bluebloods. His curiosity got the best of him. "Why not?"

"I keep running into men who don't treat me very nicely."

"Oh, ouch!" Hart said, feeling guilty as charged.

Her luscious mouth compressed into a hard line. "Let's drop it. I shouldn't be boring you with my love life or lack of it."

"You're not boring me."

She pierced him with an icy glare. "Of course not. I suppose you'd find it amusing to learn how a girl whose parents were working-class people fell for a society guy and got dumped."

She was waiting for a rich man, and the bitterness in her tone betrayed her anger and frustration at being thwarted. Her vehemence shocked and disappointed him. "No, I wouldn't. I don't like fortune hunters."

"I'm no fortune hunter. But since we're talking about things we dislike, I resent people who waste a first rate education and play farmer instead of practicing medicine and helping people who need their skills."

Anger knotted his gut in response to the low blow. How dare she assume he was so shallow! "Who says I'm playing. I work hard, and where is it written that I have to be a doctor to help people? There are other ways to do that."

Wags stood between them, growling, but they ignored her.

"Oh, right. You supply other rich people with fancy gourmet foods. What about poor people? Did you ever think to volunteer your services at a clinic?"

"Yes, I did!"

"Oh, where? At some society fat farm?"

"At an inner city clinic in South Providence as a matter of fact, but who are you to judge me?" he yelled.

Her nostrils flared, and she lifted her chin. "So much for starting over."

"We can't start over!" he shouted. "You’re too busy holding up the chip on your shoulder that's the size of Mount Mansfield."

"Chip on my shoulder? Well, I'm not taking another second of your criticism. I'll cross-country ski to Ben and Cory's place and beg them to put me up 'cause I'm out of here!"

She jumped up then pitched forward.

Chapter Four

He leapt up and caught her, pulling her close. "My fault I gave you too much wine, and you didn't eat enough."

"I was fine until I stood," she answered, her head spinning.

"Wine does that sometimes."

Maura chided herself. She must have an IQ lower than plant life to drink that much when she knew she had little tolerance for alcohol. She had been so nervous about being alone with him.

"I still want to leave." She jerked away, and her knees buckled.

He swept her up into his arms. "Let's think about that tomorrow," he answered as he carried her up the steps.

His embrace felt strong and secure, making her feel wonderful as the heat of his body seeped through their clothes, melting her anger. Her inhibitions dulled by the wine, being so near him proved exciting beyond all endurance.

They entered a bedroom, dimly lit by the fire dancing behind the grate of the soapstone stove. Hart set her on her feet but didn't release her, holding her closer than necessary.

She tilted her chin up and stared into his eyes. Violet rings surrounded his deep blue irises. Though tipsy, she still noticed his pupils had dilated, and his cheekbones reddened. Fascinated, she stared at his full, sensual lips as his masculinity assailed her defenses.

Against all logic, all caution, she longed to taste his kiss, to feel the softness of his lips and texture of his tongue against hers. She had never been so attracted, so enthralled by a man even though they had done nothing but argue. But it was difficult to keep that in mind when his arms embraced her with such tenderness.

Before she had a chance to withdraw, he released her and exhaled a deep breath, dispelling her fantasies. "Good night, Maura. If you need anything, I'll be right across the hall."

"Uh, yes. T-Thanks and good night then," she mumbled, her body still throbbing with need.

He strode out, leaving the door ajar. Sighing, Maura sank onto the bed as Wags trailed in and lay down on the hand hooked rug by the bedside.

**

Sleepless, Hart lay on his bed and stared into the dark ceiling. Damn! He couldn't remember when he'd ever wanted to make love to a woman so badly. What the hell had he been thinking? But he hadn't been thinking. That was the problem. In fact, he'd lost all reason. He had simply felt, reacting to the warmth of her body and the blazing green invitation in her eyes. His resistance had all but collapsed, but he couldn't take advantage of a woman who was intoxicated.

Besides, they did not suit each other. They fought like two snarling dogs. And that crack about him wasting his education and professional skills had hurt. She had judged him harshly, making it clear that she held him and his current lifestyle in contempt because he'd given up medicine--and its lucrative financial rewards no doubt.

He'd been right. She was after money and was angry that her attempts to land a rich husband had failed.

He hated the idea that a gold digger would buy his property, land that had been in his family for generations, and turn it into who knows what?

Well, not while he lived and breathed! He decided to fight to keep the building and land out of her hot, little hands. He could still mortgage the place and was just ticked off enough with Maura to do it even though he hated paying the interest on one hundred and fifty thousand dollars.

Still, he had good credit, and the bank manager just happened to be his best friend and Emily's husband. Hart would have to really economize in other ways if he planned to still go through with the mail order ventured, but it was worth it to him.

Hart smiled, realizing if Maura decided to buy the business, he would be her landlord. Wouldn't that just jerk a knot in her tail? Furthermore, her rent would defray the cost of the venture.

Even though revenge would be sweet, nothing could dispel the intense, unrelenting attraction he felt for her.

**

The next day, Maura watched Hart as he sped his snowmobile over the frozen fields, wishing she could go out as well. He had forbidden her to put a toe outside the door until Doc Murray came to give her medical clearance. Adding insult to injury, he told her he felt it was best for both of them if he dismissed himself from her case.

He also remained discreet about his destination, but she overheard him tell Cory he was going to visit Emily. Fine. Let him keep his secrets. They were none of her business. All she wanted to do was see the pharmacy and make a decision about it. Either way she opted, Dr. Hart MacKenzie had no place in her life.

And yet...each time she thought of him, she remembered his arms around her and his lips hovering close to hers, desire compressed in her abdomen like a coiled spring. Whenever they met in passing, the sexual tension flashed between them like heat lightning. She had to keep reminding herself the sensation was simply lust--actually, simplicity had nothing to do with the situation.

Why did she always fall for the wrong kind of man?

**

"I suggested that months ago, Hart." A can of beer in hand, his huge, blond brother-in-law, Chase Lund, lounged on the overstuffed sofa in the walnut paneled great room.

Sitting opposite him in a matching armchair, Hart nodded. "I know, and I should have taken your advice, but you understand why I didn't. Anyway, I've been thinking, and I can't stand the idea of letting the place go. I'd resentment the decision every time I went into town and saw it in someone else's hands."

Chase took a swig of beer. "I know you just want to get the past behind you. That lousy divorce upset the whole family. But don't worry about the debt too much. I can probably get you a good interest rate. Besides, I know you already figured out that the rent you charge Percival's successor will pay for the building."

Chase smiled, and his hazel eyes glinted mischievously. "Speaking of which, I heard you're playing host to a potential buyer." He bobbed his golden eyebrows. "I also heard she's a real looker."

Hart ignored his brother-in-law's innuendo. "She may not buy the place, especially when she finds out she won't pull in anywhere near the money she'd earn if she stays in Boston."

"If she's any kind of businesswoman, she already knows that. She may want a more peaceful lifestyle."

"I doubt it." Remembering their argument, Hart slugged back his beer can, taking a big swallow.

"Why?" Chase crossed his long legs and set the beer can down on the pine coffee table.

Hart recalled her anger and disappointment when she told him about her rich boyfriend dumping her. "She seems like the type of woman who likes money--a lot."

"Too bad." Chase shook his head.

"Yeah," Hart mumbled, regretting his attraction to her.

"Stop by the tomorrow, Hart. Meanwhile, I'll go to the bank and get the papers. We can get a head start filling them out, but I can tell you it'll be a few days before we can process the loan. The blizzard knocked down a power line so it'll be days before we can open and get the computers up."

**

Dressed in a dazzle of scarlet and gold, daylight rushed toward evening like a blushing maiden welcoming her lover. Finally receiving medical clearance from Doc, Maura was grateful to be allowed outside. She watched in awe as she and Wags ambled around the neat farm, making their way through the miniature mountains of piled-up snow.

Even the buildings on the property pleased her, fashioned of the fieldstone. The picturesque barn, about fifty yards away, impressed her.

She walked to a long, one-story building. Her curiosity peaked, she stepped inside onto the cement floor of the huge space. Huge rectangular stainless steel containers sat atop brick foundations. Maura wondered what they were.

Wags started sniffing in a corner as Maura walked toward the shelves lined with bottles of maple syrup. The setting sun beamed in from the window, causing the flasks to sparkle like jewels ranging in color from golden citrine to smoky topaz.

"Maura?"

Startled, she gasped and turned to see Hart standing in the doorway. "Did you have to sneak up on me like that? You could have given me a heart attack." That was a Freudian slip. Thing was, he did give her a heart attack of sorts every time she looked at him.

"Sorry, I saw the door open and came to close it. I thought the wind might have blown it open."

"What is this place?"

"The sugarhouse or sugarshack, whichever you prefer. We reduce the sap to syrup in those." He pointed to the stainless steel vats.

"They look like metal tubs on top of brick ovens," Maura remarked.

He nodded. "In a way they are. Actually, they're called evaporators. We burn wood in the brick part and boil the sap in the vats on top. It takes about 40 gallons of sap to make one gallon of syrup."

"That much?"

"It takes a long time and the vapor gets so thick, you can't see a foot in front of you." He chuckled. "Ben says it's the only thing that really helps his arthritis."

"That must take a lot of wood," Maura ventured, looking into the blue of his eyes. He seemed so intense, vital...and so darn sexy. Her mouth went dry.

"It does," he affirmed, "but I replant every tree I cut. I have a plan for recycling the steam, though. The guys and I plan to test it next year. We could use oil or gas for fuel too."

"Why are the syrups different colors?"

"They come in different grades. The light amber is the fancy grade. It has a delicate flavor. It's great over ice cream or tea. Medium amber has a stronger maple bouquet. It's used for pancakes and waffles. The two darker shades have the most pronounced flavors. They are used in cooking, but lots of folks like them at breakfast too.

He looked at his watch. "You'll have to excuse me. I should feed the horses their supper." He walked toward the door. "Stay as long as you'd like."

Barring their first night together, this was the only time that they had been together and hadn't quarreled. Suddenly, she didn't want him to go and frantically searched her mind for some excuse to prolong the friendly exchange. "Uh, what kind of horses?"

He stopped and turned toward her. "American Belgians. Want to see them?"

"That would be neat." She couldn't help smiling.

They left the sugarhouse and trekked over the plowed field to the huge barn. Hart opened the door and they entered.

The rosy light of the setting sun streamed in through the open door, falling in a bright swath on the herringbone brick floor. Above them a trussed ceiling spanned over the loft, and the smell of hay and manure mingled to create a distinctive odor.

Apparently, Wags thought so too as the dog avidly sniffed around the base of the stalls.

Taking a Coleman lamp from a shelf on the wall, Hart lit it, then replaced it. He returned to the door, closing out the chilly wind, and as he turned, his gaze met hers, making Maura breathless.

She took a deep breath. "This is beautiful."

He looked pleased by the compliment. "Thanks. I designed it."

He walked to her. His gentle touch on her shoulder as he ushered her toward the two huge horses made her long for more intimate contact.

As they approached the stalls, the light caused the animal's glossy coats to glow like polished bronze.

"Oh, they're gorgeous!" She turned from the animals and looked up at him.

Hart grinned and Maura wanted to groan. He had the most sensual lips she'd ever seen. She instinctively touched her own mouth, imagining the feel of his kiss.

"Meet Samson and Hercules." He pointed to each one.

"They're enormous!" Maura walked closer to Samson's stall and ran her palm over the horse's gleaming neck.

Hart came up behind her. "Yeah. They weigh about two thousand pounds each."

"I'll keep my toes away from their hooves." She turned around, finding herself with her back to the stall post and Hart in front of her, standing too close for comfort.

"Good idea," Hart affirmed, his eyes glowing with heat of a desert mirage.

She thought she should move away from him. "Uh, where is Wags?" Breaking eye contact, she extricated herself.

He arched an eyebrow. "Right beside you."

Darn! He made her so flustered she couldn't see what was right under her nose.

Hart turned his attention to the horses, stroking their velvety muzzles. "Hungry, guys?" He then took their buckets from the stalls and moved to the spigot where he drew a stream of fresh water into the pails.

Since they were still without electric power, Maura realized that the well must be hooked to another generator. Hart had his farm well organized. She liked that sort of efficiency. Somehow, in this barn, he seemed in his element.

And yet, he seemed just as comfortable practicing medicine when he had treated her. Quitting was something Maura just couldn't understand. Why had he given it all up?

She decided not to broach the subject, wanting to enjoy the easy camaraderie they shared.

Hanging the water buckets in the stalls, Hart filled another pail with grain and threw some flakes of hay into one rack on the wall. Okay, Samson. You're all set."

He repeated the process in Hercules' stall. As he reached inside and suspended the feed bucket on the peg, the horse appeared to nudge him.

"Damn!" Holding his hand to his chest, he grimaced.

"What happened?"

"That blasted stallion bit my wrist."

Her heart flipped over. "Let me see." She rushed toward him. Taking hold of his fingers, she inspected the bleeding wound then pulled a fresh handkerchief from her pocket and bound his hand. The touch of his skin felt warm and made her pulse leapt. "Let's get to the house. This needs tending."

"I'll do it myself."

"We'll argue later. Everyone knows doctors make the worst patients. I assume your tetanus shot is up to date."

He nodded. "I had one just before Lor--"

She met his gaze. "Before what?"

"Nothing."

"Let's get going, Hart." Maura took the Coleman lamp against the gathering darkness outside.

Wags trailing, they started back to the house.

"What happened?" Cory asked as they entered the kitchen.

Setting down the lamp, Maura helped Hart off with his coat as he explained. She inhaled a whiff of his after-shave lotion. Again her body immediately responded--this time more intensely.

"Herk is the feisty one, especially when his food arrives late," Cory remarked. "Is it bad?"

"No," Hart answered.

"Bathroom, sir," Maura ordered, hanging her coat beside his.

"I can handle this."

"I never said you couldn't." She smiled up at him. "Now move."

They entered the bathroom and Maura turned on the tap.

"I've never seen a woman carry a man's handkerchief before."

"Tissues fall apart or get soaked on big cuts. This kind of hanky is better in any emergency. I learned that when Wags cut her paw once."

He immersed his hand in the water. Maura's stomach flopped over as the bloody bandage slipped off. That's why you're a pharmacist and not a doctor, she reminded herself.

She opened the medicine chest. "Good grief!" She turned to him.

"What?" He looked at her, surprised.

"All you have in here is shaving soap and razors!"

"What were you expecting, Prozac?" He shrugged.

"You’re a doctor! What about some Band-Aids and gauze?"

"For the last time, I don't practice, besides I used the last of my stuff when you had your mishap. I'll get some more when I go to town."

"Gee, you don't even have aspirin for a headache!"

"I don't get headaches," he answered, still holding his hand under the running tap.

"Of course not. You give them instead." She turned off the tap. "Stay right where you are. I'll be back," she announced, hurrying away.

First aid supplies in hand, she returned a few seconds later. Setting the plastic bag on the vanity, she withdrew a container of anti-bacterial soap.

He eyed her supplies. "You always carry that stuff with you?" "Yeah. I never know when I might need them, like right now for instance." She pumped the soap on the wound.

"Ooouch!" He grimaced.

"Don't wimp out on me now. Work it in gently," she ordered, putting the container back in the bag.

"But it stings."

Hands on her hips, she stared at him, unsmiling. "So what do you want me to do? Kiss it better for you?"

"That would be an interesting treatment."

She made the mistake of looking up at him. The blue of his eyes disarmed her, riveting her to the spot. He inclined toward her, and she could feel his warm, minty-smelling breath on her face.

Remembering the task at hand, she opened the faucet again. Hart put his hand under the flowing water as his gaze kept shifting from her mouth to her eyes.

He made her insides quiver.

After a few seconds, she said, "That's enough." She turned off the tap and examined the wound. "It doesn't look like it needs stitches."

"I could have told you that."

"Let's blot it dry." She took a tube from the bag. "Hold out your hand. This may smart, but there's no help for it." She squeezed some antibiotic cream onto a piece of gauze and blotted the injury.

"Damn! Where did you learn your bedside manner, from the Marquis de Sade?"

"No, I'm not into kinky." Dropping the used gauze into the wastebasket, she looked up, and his gaze fused with hers.

"So just what are you into?" He bobbed his eyebrows.

She swallowed hard, trying to get a hold of her reeling senses. "I-I doubt my pastimes would excite your interest," she answered, applying a wide Band-Aid to the injury.

"You underestimate yourself." His gaze burned into hers with the intensity of a blowtorch, and he grazed her jaw with the knuckles of his uninjured hand.

The man's sexuality battered her defenses. She made an attempt to turn away, but he held her fast. Maura felt as if the heat of his body would melt her bones.

"I find you very exciting."

She really should move away, but she didn't want to, and his charm melted her resistance like ice cream on a day in July.

He bent, and his mouth brushed hers, and she was lost. The luscious sampling made her yearn for more, making her knees weak. She trembled, and his embrace tightened, crushing her tingling breasts against his rock-hard chest.

Maura fused against him, lost in the vortex of her burgeoning desire. She gasped for breath, and he deepened the kiss. He turned her away from the vanity and held her flush against the wall. His tongue swirled with hers, and involuntarily, her arms tightened around his lean middle. His hips undulated forward as his big hands slipped lower to cup her bottom. She couldn't suppress a moan, descending deeper and deeper into his thrall.

Suddenly, she heard footsteps. Maura pushed him away, feeling her face burning, her body still starving from unsatisfied desire.

What was wrong with her? This man thought she was a fortune hunter and was probably the same type as Jason. She couldn't make the same mistake again. She had to get on with her life.

"Uh, you'll be fine for a while." Still trembling, she fumbled, hastily dropping the rest of her first-aid supplies in the bag and avoiding his scorching gaze.

Cory came to the bathroom door. "Ben's here so I'm leavin'. Dinner is on the stove, keepin' warm."

"Thanks," Hart said. "We'll be right there."

Cory hurried off as Maura turned to follow.

Hart caught her arm. "Now, where were we?"

She stepped back, disengaging from his touch. "On the way to making a terrible mistake."

He shook his head. "There's no mistaking what we just shared together, Maura."

"What we feel is physical attraction, nothing more." Blinking back her tears, Maura brushed past him. "Don't wait for me to eat dinner. I'm not hungry, and I think I'll just say good night.

**

Hart stood against a large maple in the back yard, trying to get a grip on his temper. He looked up. The star-strewn sky dropped soft, silvery kisses on the snowy landscape. The heavens appeared so beautiful and yet so distant--just like Maura.

Her rebuff had stung, but she was probably right. He and Maura were wrong for each other. It was crazy to think that what he felt was anything more that an acute case of lust.

Besides, he couldn't blame Maura for her aloofness. He really didn't have his act together, and she probably sensed that. Moreover, she thought he was a quitter. In a way he was, and no matter what he did, he couldn't make up for the fact that he wasn't doing what he'd been trained to do, what he had been born to do.

He loved farming and he'd made quite a success of his businesses. Still, the only thing he'd ever wanted to do was practice medicine ever since the time his father had taken him to his office when Hart was about five years old. That day, Doc Murray, who was his father's young partner then, had put a stethoscope on him and let him listen to his own heart. From then on Hart was hooked.

He knew his father wouldn't have approved of his decision to quit. Nor would his grandfather or mother. But Hart just could not go on. He couldn't trust his own judgment any more.

If he hadn't listened closely to his own mother, how much else would he miss in the future?

Besides, wasn't he helping the community in other ways? Abe Scot and his daughter, Ellen, had been so happy about the mail order project they were all planning together. The venture would create badly needed jobs in the community.

Why then did he feel so empty, so dissatisfied? No matter what he did, nothing seemed to compensate for his abdication from medicine.

Hart turned for home, his footsteps crunching through the snow. He hoped Maura would be in her room when he got back. He had made a fool of himself, and he didn't want to face her.

But had he really? She responded to him, actually encouraged him, kissing him back.

If Cory hadn't interrupted them, where would that kiss have led? He knew where he wanted it to lead: straight up the stairs and into his bed.

The notion instantly aroused him. He imagined her there, wrapped around him like the smooth length of a satin sheet. Maura caused him to ache with need. He couldn't deny that from the moment he saw her, he wanted her.

Chapter Five

The next day at lunch, Hart stood from the table. Maura looked up, his blue gaze mesmerizing her. Damn, no one had the right to be that handsome. Maura prayed she could leave for Boston soon. There, away from temptation, she'd regain her emotional balance.

She was making some progress toward her goal. In an hour, she would meet Percival Ross. Luckily, he lived in town, within walking distance from the pharmacy. The last challenge loomed beyond her control: The rural roads remained impassable.

"Are you sure you feel up to going into town." He looked down at her.

She would have lied even if she didn't. "Yes. I'm perfectly fine." She stood. "Wonderful in fact."

He looked at the coffeepot.

"You've got time for another cup. I don't have to meet with Mr. Ross until two."

"Well, I thought you might want to stop at the general store."

"Good idea. Wags is getting low on dog food. But are they open for business?"

"Most of the business people live in town and have generators so they'll be open. I know Abe Scott will be there. His house is right behind the store. He loves that place so much, he'd fix a room right there, but his daughter won't let him."

The way the light played over Hart's symmetrical features made her heart trip. But she needed to remember they were from different classes.

"Maura?"

"What?"

"You seem a million miles away."

"Uh, no, I'm listening. This Abe sounds like a character, and I've always wanted to see a real general store."

"Just wait till you meet him. He fancies himself a lady killer."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah. He makes Ben look small time." He smiled.

The light in his eyes caused a spasm deep in her abdomen. "Quite a shameless flirt, huh?"

"That's a good way of putting it." He chuckled.

They moved into the mudroom, and he helped her with her jacket. She removed her mittens from her pocket, intending to slip them on.

"Wait, Maura." He pulled out a tube of Hand Sense.

Maura knew the stuff was amazing. Developed by the military, it prevented nasty things from penetrating your hands. It also kept them warm and dry under gloves.

"I use it out in the sugarbush. It helps."

"I know," Maura answered. "I brought a tube for when I go skiing...if I go, I should say."

Squeezing the cream on the back of her hands, he massaged the unguent into them as his gaze bore into hers. The contact with him made her lightheaded, but somehow, she just couldn't tear herself away. By the time he finished, her insides had turned to porridge.

"Wait right here." He went off and returned with a pair of neoprene glove liners and a pair of glacier gloves, which he slipped on her. "Now, what about socks."

"I've got some special socks that are fuzzy on the inside and wick moisture away, from your skin," Maura answered.

"Good. Let's go then."

**

As they sped off on the snowmobiles, Maura felt the cold wind bite her cheeks and nip her nose, But her fingers and toes were toasty warm.

They passed the Maplehurst Inn just before they got into town. The huge, white structure stood high atop a knoll and was surrounded by a variety of trees: some pines and huge, bare-limbed trees, probably maples. Maura imagined how they'd look in the their autumn raiment of topaz and ruby splendor.

They scudded into town. A big white church, its center steeple a proud pinnacle against the azure sky, presided in front of a wide common.

A Victorian house, guarded by a wrought iron fence came into view. The signs outside it told her Doc Murray shared the place with the dentist. A smaller building next door housed the veterinarian. A bank, steak house, post office, hardware store, and volunteer fire station also lined the street. Down the side streets, big yards surrounded neat homes.

The ten-mile journey finally at an end, they stopped in front of the old-fashioned general store.

"This is Main Street," Hart remarked, hopping off the snowmobile.

Maura got off the snowmobile and turned, immediately noticing the pharmacy across the road with its mortar and pestle sign in front. A surge of excitement mingled with anticipation filled her, and she couldn't wait to go inside.

"This looks like a scene from a postcard," Maura commented. "It's a pretty place, but it's dying. Nothing to keep the young people in the area except farming, which can be risky. Around here you'll never get rich." He gave her a sharp look.

"You seem to be doing all right," she commented as they mounted the wooden steps.

"I'm into other ventures, but they hardly bring in the kind of income you find interesting."

Maura bristled. "How do you know what interests me?"

"A person doesn't make it all the way to the Jocelyn Clinic and then throw it away to make peanuts."

"Really! I should think the same principle applies to a doctor with an Ivy League education."

He glared at her. "Let's quite arguing," he suggested, opening the door to the general store.

The bell on the door jingled as they entered, and she felt as if she had stepped back in time a hundred years. A big, pot-bellied stove warmed the place. Glass bowels filled with hard candy rested on top of the display cases. Bolts of cloth, spools of thread, tins of shortbread, pans of fudge, bottles of maple syrup, bags of flour, nightgowns, bedspreads, braided rugs, cans of coffee, tobacco, teapots, kettles, skillets filled the place. The plank floors and smells of ginger and cinnamon gave the place a cozy ambiance especially with the colorful quilts hanging from the walls.

"This is fantastic!" she exclaimed.

"We like it," Hart answered. "The store has been in business since 1850."

Maura saw a tall, burly man wearing a white bartender's apron come from the back room. The light from the window shone off his white hair.

"So you finally decided to bring your guest, Hart," the old gentlemen commented.

"Word gets around fast, Abe," Hart answered.

"Fast? She's been here four days, and a beautiful woman wandering into our midst causes some excitement." He came out from behind the counter. "I'm Abe Scott, ma'am."

"Maura Egan." She offered her hand. "Pleased to meet you."

"I beg to differ. The pleasure is all mine." He bowed and actually kissed her hand!

Maura giggled, delighted.

Hart shook his head. "You're as bad as Ben for laying the Blarney on a bit thick, Abe."

"That old scoundrel is second rate when it come to charmin' a lovely girl." Abe smiled. "Besides, look who's talkin'. You got most of the females in this town after you."

Abe's statement caused jealousy to slice through Maura.

"I give up," Hart conceded. "Charm aside, I might as well give you the good news. We start construction on the warehouse just as soon as the ground thaws enough to pour the foundation."

"That's great news!" Abe exclaimed. "Ellen will be so excited."

Maura wondered who Ellen was.

"Well, when those orders come in she'll be kept busy."

Abe looked at Maura. "Ayuh, Hart and I are startin' a mail- order general store. We'll send out a catalogue and advertise our products nationwide."

"We're going on line with our own web site so folks can order from their computers." Hart added.

So he had found a way to help others. He created jobs for them. Maura felt a stab of remorse. She had judged him--hastily and too harshly.

"I thought I heard your voice, Hart." A tall, slim woman came from the back room. She wore no make-up on her beautiful, smiling face. Her red hair was pulled back from her forehead and tumbled over the shoulders, contrasting brightly with her brown corduroy jumper and beige blouse.

"Ellen," Hart said, grinning widely. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, now. The kids were down with tonsillitis. They gave old Doc a fit. They miss you, Hart."

"Doc and I are advertising for someone to take my place."

"It won't be the same. Percival will be retiring too." The redhead sighed. "I guess I don't like things changing."

"Not even if it involves a job?"

"Oh, Hart. You cinched the deal!" She threw her arms around him.

Maura's stomach knotted.

"Oh, excuse me," Hart said, breaking away. "Ellen, I'd like you to meet Maura Egan."

"Pleased to meet you," Maura lied.

"Likewise," Ellen answered without the least bit of malice in her big, turquoise eyes.

Maura wished she could say the same of herself.

"Mommy!" A little girl, her red jacket and slacks sparkling with a dusting of snow, ran into the room. "Timmy won't let me help build the snowman." Her long, blond hair cascaded from beneath her white knitted snowcap, and her chubby cheeks were rosy from the cold.

"Sorry." Ellen shook her head. "I'd better intervene. Those two have been such a handful since Roy died." The woman hurried toward the back room. "Being a single parent is not for wimps."

"It's okay, Ellen," Hart reassured her. "I'll talk to you and Abe about the plans later."

Maura felt a tug of guilt for the jealousy she directed toward Ellen.

Hart turned to Abe. "I have to see Percival, but Maura needs some dog food."

"Wait for me," Maura said. "I'll just be a minute."

He smiled sardonically. "You're not the only person who has personal business with Percival."

"Oh," Maura replied. She hadn't meant to intrude, but the I- know-something-you-don't look he shot at her gave her an uneasy feeling.

"Take your time and look around." Hart looked at his watch. "You've still got ten minutes before your appointment." Hart hurried out.

"Don't mind him, young lady," Abe assured her. "He's always in a tear goin' somewhere. Now, do you need dried or canned."

"Some of both please, Mr. Scott."

"Call me Abe," he said, walking to the back room.

While she waited, Maura admired the quilts hanging from the wall. One of them, worked in pastel bear-claw blocks, had a blue ribbon pinned to it.

"That's my Ellen's," Abe announced as he returned to the counter. "Took first prize at the Vermont quilt Festival."

"It's a work of art." She walked toward Abe and paid the bill.

"Don't be a stranger," he called after her as she left.

Stashing her purchases in the snowmobile, Maura crossed the ice-rutted street and entered the pharmacy.

A short, white-haired man stood behind the counter at the far end of the store. Maura deduced he was Percival Ross. His back to her, Hart stood against the counter facing the man.

As Maura made her way toward the two men, she heard Hart say, "So is it a deal, Percival?"

"Sure thing, Hart."

Hart turned. Introductions exchanged, Hart said, "I'll leave you two to discuss business. I've got to go to the bank and the barbershop. Will an hour and a half give you enough time?"

"Yes," Maura answered.

"That should be plenty of time," Percival agreed.

"I'll meet you back at the general store at noon then. See ya, Percival." He made for the door.

"You don't have to wait for me," she called after him. "I can find my way back to the farm."

His hand on the doorknob, he turned. "No way."

"Why not?"

"Suppose something goes wrong with the snowmobile."

"I got my cell phone out of the car."

"Look, you came with me, you leave with me. That's just the way it is." He turned and left.

"Well," Percival remarked, "I know you're anxious to see if half my patient load really does have diabetes."

"Actually, I took your word for that when we spoke on the phone." Maura smiled.

"Then let me give you the grand tour."

"I'd like that."

Maura glanced around the store. Mr. Ross kept the place well stocked with medical equipment. If this were her business, though, she would have added a line of orthopedic shoes, soft sole inserts, special socks, and partitioned off some space for a consultation room.

She definitely would do some redecorating too. The place needed updating desperately, although the computer was state of the art.

In time, Maura planned to hire a sale assistant, someone to look after the retail part of the business while she worked with patients or filled prescriptions.

The store held plenty of room for expansion in the back with a spacious office, full bathroom, and kitchenette where Mr. Ross told her he heated up his lunch and kept a pot of coffee going.

He offered her a cup, and she sipped it while she continued inspecting the place. She even envisioned a space for a little novelty shop. That would produce another source of revenue.

To her surprise, Percival led her out the back door into a fenced yard, sheltered by two huge, bare-limbed, trees--a perfect place for a shade garden in summer. She envisioned a leafy canopy above, giving cool sanctuary to a bed of multicolored impatiens and peace lilies in terra-cotta pots. The yard afforded plenty of space for Wags to run around too.

"I can't believe this, Mr. Ross."

"This was once a private residence. The upstairs has been converted into an apartment. It's vacant right now."

"May I see it?" Maura asked, excited.

"Yes. I was told it used to have three big bedrooms and a bath, but now it has one bedroom, a kitchen, bath, and den."

If the place was in decent condition, she could live there until she found a more permanent place. "Does it need major repairs, Mr. Ross?"

"Not that I know of, but I'll let you see it for yourself after we finish here."

Maura's mind started to click away with ideas. To promote the new management, she would advertise in the local paper, network with the medical community, and give special discounts to senior citizens. Taking a leaf from Hart's book, she might even launch a web site of her own, hoping to attract the attention of the medical professionals in nearby St. Albans and Swanton.

Percival showed her the account books for the last five years. They clearly indicated the business had taken in a healthy profit for that period and was still doing so. The revenues were nowhere what she could earn in Boston, but she did not want that hectic pace of life anymore. Working at Jocelyn during the week and filling in at other hospitals on the weekends had gotten old.

"I've enjoyed working in this pharmacy for the past forty years, and I'll miss it," Mr. Ross divulged. "But my wife and I want to spend more time in our garden, and I want to devote some time to my woodworking."

"None of your relatives are interested in pharmacy?"

"No. My son is a physician in Rutland, and my daughter is a college professor at Bennington. Their children are majoring in business and computers sciences in college."

"I see," Maura replied, trying to keep her excitement under control. She had been looking for this type of pharmacy all her professional life. The price was certainly right, and the added boon was the personal time she would have available.

Percival mentioned that he opened at nine, closed at five, and didn't open on Sundays. Since the folks in the town were accustomed to that schedule, she saw no reason to change it.

The apartment upstairs surprised and delighted her. No more traffic-jammed, nerve raking commutes to and from work. Later, she'd find a little house nearby with a big back yard for Wags...and maybe someday, if she met the right man, a place where her children could play.

Immediately, she pictured Hart. This infatuation was really getting out of hand. Get real, Maura!

She and Percival walked down the stairs and sat at the table in the kitchenette.

"Mr. Ross, I'm prepared to make an offer today, and I have a certified check from my bank in Boston for the earnest money, and they pre-approved me for a loan for more than what you're asking."

His brown eyes shone as he smiled. "Fine. I intend to finance the sale myself so you won't need to go to the bank if you can make my down payment and the monthly payments. That way, your interest rate won't be high."

"Great. In fact, your price is so reasonable, I'd like to buy the building too."

His smile fading, he stared at her. Maybe he didn't believe she could swing the deal. "I can afford it, Mr. Ross. My mother left me the beneficiary of some insurance money when she died." She leaned forward, resting her arms on the table. "I invested it and the funds have grown." She sighed inwardly, thinking about all the moonlighting that she'd also done to augment the sum and pay off her educational loans.

"Uh, I see, but I'm afraid there's been a misunderstanding. I don't own the building."

"What?" Her voice came out like a screech. More quietly, she said, "But you never mentioned that when we talked on the phone, and there's a for sale sign outside."

"I know," he answered, looking uncomfortable. "At the time, I didn't think it would cause a problem, but I just got word today that the owner has just changed his mind. I'm sorry." He gave her a weak smile. "But you can still buy the business."

Darn! This store and building were everything she had dreamt about for years. Maybe she could convince the proprietor to sell to her.

"Who is the owner, Mr. Ross?"

"I'm not at liberty to say at the moment."

"Why won't you reveal the owner's name, Mr. Ross."

"He asked me not to for the moment."

"I'm going to have to know sometimes. What name will I put on the rent checks?"

"It's part of a corporation, Miss Egan."

"Look, Mr. Ross, I like your place, but I'd rather not be involved in anything that may be shady. I'll say good-bye." She rose.

"Wait, Miss Egan. I can assure you that it's nothing like that." He stood as well.

"Well, I am sorry. I just can't proceed with this deal until I know the owner's name."

**

Hart stared at Maura as she sat at the kitchen table, staring at her untouched supper. Her mauve sweater and purple slacks reminded him of lilacs in May even though she looked depressed. Ever since they returned from town, her mood had been dour and Hart guessed why.

He felt lower than a whale's hip, but he wanted to tell her the situation about the building himself. Unfortunately, the way they had argued, he had never found the right time. Then when they shared that kiss, he hadn't wanted to spoil the tenuous truce. But he was going to have to tell her some time.

You're not eating, Maura. Don't you like the food?"

"I'm just not hungry." She didn't look up.

"I guess you were disappointed in the pharmacy."

"Not at all." She looked at him, dejection on her face. "I thought my dream had come true."

"Even though you could make more money in Boston?"

"Money has never been the first priority with me. I want to be happy at my work and know I'm making some kind of a contribution."

Her statement really touched him. So she wasn't mercenary after all. The realization warmed him.

"So what's the problem?" he asked.

"Mr. Ross told me that the building suddenly is not for sale. But the weird part was he wouldn't tell me the name of the owner." She sighed. "This mystery person and Percival might be using the place to launder drug money for all I know."

He suppressed a chuckle and stood. "Let's go into the den. Maybe I can help you."

Her eyes widened. "How? Do you know who owns the place?"

Hart couldn't help but smile. "Come on."

She rose, and Wags left the cozy corner near the stove, padding along with them into the den. They all sat on the hearthrug.

The flames did lovely things to Maura's skin, making it glow all rosy and warm. Hart wanted to touch it.

She looked at him. "Well?"

Anticipating her reaction, he took a deep breath. "The owner of the building doesn't use the place for laundering money or anything else illegal. You can buy the pharmacy with no qualms."

"How can you be so sure?" Her green gaze sparkled with curiosity.

He hesitated answering.

"Well?"

"Because I own the building."

She just stared at him. "You!" Her tone rang with accusation. "Why am I surprised?" She shrugged, shaking her head. "The way my luck is going lately, I should have guessed." She stood. "So you've suddenly changed your mind because you don't want me to have the place. Fine! I'll find another site." She stood, stomping out of the room.

Chapter Six

Leaping up, Hart grabbed her wrist and spun her around. "Wait, Maura, let me explain."

She tried to pull away. "Save it! You didn't like me from the beginning, and you don't want me to have your precious property."

Hart caught her wrist again. "You don't have anything to do with my decision." He was telling the truth. He didn't want revenge. What he wanted was a continued relationship with her--any kind--even if it was a just business arrangement. "In fact, I really want you to stay here and render a very vital service to this town. You're just what we need, really."

A stunned look on her face, she gave up the struggle and stared wide-eyed at him. "You want me to stay?"

Hart nodded, responding to her sudden show of vulnerability with the need to give her a comforting embrace her. However, she had made her feelings clear so he crushed the impulse.

"If you don't buy, folks here will have to go into the next town for their medication because Percival is going to retire in June whether someone buys or not. His wife has been after him to quit for the past ten years."

"Really," she murmured, still holding his gaze. "Uh, then why didn't you want me to know?"

"I did, but I wanted to tell you myself. Let's sit down, Maura. It's a long story."

They sat side-by-side on the sofa, and he told her his reasons.

After he finished she said, "I guess I can understand why you don't want to part with the place."

"Say you'll stay with us, Maura. We need you."

"How can I refuse?" She smiled mischievously. "But I won't pay a huge rent. Percival showed me his books. I know how much you're charging him."

His face split with a grin. "I won't go up on the rent. At least for the first year."

She arched an eyebrow. "I will expect that to be in the lease."

"You drive a hard bargain, lady."

"I suppose I should call Percival."

They stood, walking to the phone. Maura dialed, and Hart stood close, sharing the receiver as Percival's voice resounded with joy.

The scent of her perfume teased Hart's nostrils. He fought the urge to draw her into his arms and kiss her as he heard Percival say, "I'll get my lawyer to draw up the papers, and I'll get back to you as soon as they're ready."

"I'll be around with the earnest money tomorrow." She put her hand over the receiver. Looking at Hart, she whispered, "If I can borrow a snowmobile."

Hart nodded. "I'd like to come with you."

Answering Hart with a smile, Maura uncovered the phone and replied, "Uh, yes, two in the afternoon is fine, Mr. Ross. See you then."

The conversation over, she set down the phone, and he took her hand. "Congratulations." His gaze held hers.

"Thanks, Hart."

"We should be thanking you, Maura."

Tears glistened in her green eyes, and he pulled out his handkerchief, dabbed her moist cheeks, wanting to shelter her in his arms.

Suddenly, the phone rang and Hart answered it.

"I'll be right there Ben." He put down the phone.

"Anything wrong?" she asked.

"Not really. One of the heifers just went into labor. Don't wait up, I might be gone all night, helping the vet."

It was just as well he was called away. If he stayed close to her, he was going to succumb to temptation, and make a fool of himself yet again. She had already set him straight on that score.

Maura had told him in no uncertain terms that she considered an intimate relationship with him a terrible mistake.

**

The next afternoon, Hart and Maura returned from town. As they walked into the kitchen, the smell of baking pastry and hot coffee made Maura's mouth water

"This calls for a celebration." Cory smiled as she put the freshly baked cake on the rack to cool.

"Ayuh," Ben agreed.

"How did you two know?" Maura shot an accusatory glare at Hart.

He put his palms up and stepped back. "Don't look at me. I didn't say a word.

"Letty Ross and I are best friends and haven't had any secrets since we were six years old." Cory chuckled. "She just called to say you'd signed the sale agreement."

Maura shook her head. "But the deal hasn't gone through yet, Cory. I just gave the earnest money. Mr. Ross has to do a credit check, and his lawyer has to draw up the papers."

"And that means that you've made the decision to stay with us." Cory smiled and gave her a hug.

"The deal will go through," Ben assured, his eyes twinkling. "No reason not to. Percival said his lawyer promised to have the papers drawn up in three days."

"I guess there are few secrets in this town?" Maura laughed.

"I called Emily and Chase. They're riding over in their sleigh. They're bringing steaks and champagne." Cory smiled at Hart.

"The whole town wants to celebrate. There's talk of a party," Ben added.

Touched by the show of acceptance, a lump swelled in her throat as she looked up at Hart. He smiled, an I-told-you-so look in his eyes.

Maura heard the roar of snowmobiles then all went silent. Suddenly, the back door burst open. A huge man, an auburn-haired woman, and a small boy trooped into the mudroom adjacent to the kitchen and yelled in unison, "Surprise!"

Hart chuckled and looked at Maura. "Get ready for the third degree. Emily loves to ask questions."

**

Hart stood over the outdoor grill and listened to the steaks sizzling as the delicious odor of cooking beef wafted on the cold air. Fork in hand, he turned the T-bones.

Chase, Emily, and Tim, their small son, were playing go fetch with Wags on the far end of the big fenced yard. The little boy squealed with delight, and the dog barked excitedly as it scampered over the snow.

The sounds of laughter turned the affair into the kind of family celebration Hart loved. He hoped to roughhouse with his own kids someday, but the way things were shaking out, he'd have to wait quite a while for that.

He glanced through the window into the dining room. Cory and Maura were bustling around the dining room, setting the table. Ben joined in, putting his famous Caesar salad on the sideboard.

A wide smile on her full lips, Emily walked toward him, snow clinging to her gloves and jacket. From the look in her big hazel eyes, Hart knew he was in for it.

"She's nice, Hart. Why didn't you take her to our farm for a visit? I think we're going to be good friends."

"Great." Hart answered cautiously.

"So...have you two hit it off?"

"If your asking me if we slept together, the answer is no, not that it's any of your business, Emily."

"Oooooh, aren't you testy? Maybe a quick roll in the hay would improve your mood."

Hart didn't want a quick roll. He wanted all night to make love to Maura repeatedly, to give as well as receive pleasure. "Give it a rest, Emily."

She opened her mouth, but Timmy ran up, Wags chasing at his heels.

"Is supper ready yet?" he asked, face flushed beneath his freckles.

"Just about, sport." Hart placed the last two steaks on the metal platter and picked it up. "Let go in."

**

Supper eaten and the dishes washed, they all sat in the big cozy den, drinking big mugs of hot chocolate.

Unlike Lorna, Maura conversed with his family in an easy, casual manner. Furthermore, she looked so damn sexy. His imagination had them picnicking by the lake under a canopy of birches and maples. He pictured her in a bikini, and his body immediately reacted.

He better stop that line of thinking. Still, he remembered the kiss they shared. Its memory had been branded, for all time, into his brain. Damn. This woman was tearing him out of his frame.

"Stop that, Wags!" Maura's voice jerked him back to the matter at hand as the beagle tried to lick the whipped cream mustache from Tim's upper lip.

The boy laughed and stood to avoid the beagle's quick tongue. Sticking his finger into the cream, he offered it to the dog, which greedily lapped it up.

Hart looked at Maura, expecting some sort of reprimand because she was so finicky about the animal's diet. Instead, her gaze met his, and she shrugged.

"Have you found a place to stay yet, Maura?" Emily leaned forward, placing her empty mug on the coffee table.

"I'm taking advantage of the apartment above the pharmacy for now. Later, I want a house with acreage. I may consider a farm."

"If you want help decorating, I'd be glad to lend a hand."

"I'd love it," Maura answered. "I don't know much about decorating. I've been renting a furnished room in a widow's house since I left school. I hardly have any furniture."

Emily clapped her hands with glee. "We're gonna have the most fun. And I know a place where you can get the best bargains on furniture."

Chase smiled at Maura as he put his arm around his wife's shoulders. "You've made a friend for life. Em has a degree in interior design. She's constantly changing curtains and moving furniture. Correction! I move it."

"Did I luck out, or did I luck out?" Maura asked, smiling at Hart.

"If you ask me, we're the ones that lucked out," Ben said.

"Amen," Cory added. "I can keep goin' to the old drug store the way I always have instead of travelin' to the next town for insulin and syringes."

"Yep," Emily agreed. "Now all we need is a young doctor." Eyebrow arched, she peered at Hart. "Doc Murray is really overworked these days."

Hart felt anger grinding in his gut as everyone looked at him. "Doc and I have advertised. We'll start interviewing soon and--"

"That's crazy, Hart," Emily interrupt. "You're what we want. How can you just turn your backs on us when we need you?"

"Em." Chase gave her a sharp look.

Humiliated, Hart stood. Determined not to shout, he forced himself to keep his tone quiet. "Excuse me. You know how I feel about this subject. Stay as long as you like, but I'm saying good night." He turned, mounted the stairs to his room, and closed the door.

He lay on the bed, body rigid, fists clenched, staring into the darkness.

It was so easy to ignore what you did not want to see, he thought as the bitter memories spilled on his heart like strong acid.

His mother had never been ill. She had been the strength in the family. Even before his father died at age forty from a heart attack, Janet MacKenzie had managed the farm. As a widow, she continued to make the place prosper.

Carefully planning and managing, she made the farm pay even in the worst economic times because of the dream that she and Hart shared. He would take his father's place as Doc Murray's partner.

Oh, how he wished he had listened to her. She had been so right about things—especially Lorna.

He had been blind in many ways, in the worst way. And he missed some important symptoms. Why, he didn't insist she go to a specialist immediately? Damn! He should have made the appointment for her.

Maybe he just wasn't meant to be a doctor. Had he just followed his parents' dream instead of his own? After all, he was a good businessman. His ventures thus far had been highly successful.

Who are you kidding, Hart? Admit you miss medicine. When he was practicing, he bounded out of bed each morning full of enthusiasm, ready to meet the challenge, to vanquish the enemy. He'd won a lot of battles, but death had taken his mother and won the war.

**

Company gone, Maura sat by the fire, Wags at her side. The heat didn't dispel Hart's cold goodnight. She had never seen someone's mood change so drastically in just a matter of seconds. Emily must have hit a nerve.

But why didn't he want to practice medicine? He'd been very conscientious when she'd had her accident. Actually, he'd been almost too careful.

He cared a great deal about the people in the town, financing projects that would bring jobs to the area, but...still, he refused to give them the one thing they desperately needed.

Well, it was none of her business in spite of the fact that she felt so attracted to him. In a few days, she would leave Sugarbush. She had heard the news on the radio that morning. The road crews were making progress on the roads. By the end of the week, the highways might be cleared. Soon the linemen would start repairing the fallen power lines, and she could leave for Boston and put Hart out of her mind.

That's bull, Maura. She knew she would never forget him, and for a reason other than the fact that he'd saved her life.

**

The late afternoon milking done, Hart trekked through the snow toward home.

Embarrassed by the way he had behaved last night, he had avoided Maura and everyone else all day. She probably thought he was a clod.

Emily had humiliated him once again, reminding him of his dereliction of duty--his incompetence. No one knew more than he did just how much he'd failed his mother, himself, and the people of this town.

Still, he had regretted his rudeness to his company all day. He must make a point to apologize to Maura when he saw her at supper. Tomorrow he would talk to Ben and Cory. Emily could wait. He liked his cousin, but at times she could be a royal pain even if she was usually right about things.

He entered the kitchen, surprised to see Maura standing at the stove.

She looked up and smiled. "Hello."

"Hi." Darn. She did things for that old apron of Cory's he didn't think possible. Realizing he was staring at her, he looked away. "Where's Cory?"

She tapped her watch. "It was time for her to go and Ben came to pick her up. Didn't you see them?"

"I guess I was still in the dairy." Truth was he had been so distracted and lost in his guilty thoughts he would not have noticed an elephant trampling the sugarbush. Now was as good a time as any to apologize and ease his conscience. "Uh, look, Maura...."

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry for the way I left last night."

"Emily hit a sore spot, huh?"

He nodded.

"Forget it. No harm done."

"Thanks."

"Dinner is all cooked."

He squelched the urge to cup her round bottom as she bent to open the oven. No doubt about it, he was suffering from a terminal case of...something more than physical attraction.

She lifted the roasting pan to the top of the stove then turned toward him. "Hungry?"

"Yeah," he replied, referring to needs besides food.

He noticed an open vinyl case on the counter. Looking inside, he saw a pair of ice skates. "What are these doing here?"

"Oh, Cory asked to see them after I told her that I was taking ice skating lessons in Boston. I wanted to as a kid, but we never had enough money. I brought them to use at the inn's rink." She shrugged. "I guess I won't get the opportunity to skate this trip or ski either. As soon as I sign those papers, I'll be going back to Boston."

Hell, he missed her already. "You can still skate. There are plenty of ponds around here."

She shook her head. "If you don't mind, I'd rather not go near another frozen pond for a long time."

He chuckled. "That's understandable, but the weather hasn't been above ten degrees for the past week. The stock pond near the dairy is solid ice for about two feet down. You can skate if you like. It's perfectly safe."

"I am tempted." She gave him an elfin smile.

"So am I." But not by skating.

"Really?"

"Yeah. I played hockey in high school and college. What do you say we go for a glide?"

She gave him a wary look.

"Look, I promise to be on my best behavior."

"You need to clarify what you mean by best behavior."

"You don't make it easy on a guy, do you?"

She shot him a skeptical look.

"Okay, I'll be specific. I won't put any moves on you." He hated like hell to keep that promise.

"In that case, you're on." She laughed.

Let's just cut this roast, have a quick sandwich, and go," he suggested, his spirit soaring.

"Okay."

The quick meal made, they gobbled their food.

"I want to change into something warmer," Maura said.

"While you're doing that, I'll fix a Thermos of my special coffee. Meet me out back when you're ready. I have to dig out my old hockey skates."

Maura hurried to her room and donned her tights, black wool slacks, and boots. She slipped on a heavy cardigan over her turtleneck jersey. Once she started skating, she would keep warm since the wind was gentle today. A red wool cap, gloves, and a long red Casco Bay cape with a deep hood completed the outfit.

She stepped outside. To her surprise, Samson and Hercules stood hitched to a sleigh, snuffling their breaths into the cold air. Hart helped her into the conveyance, covering her with several blankets and quilts. Walking around to the other side, he leapt up and sat beside her, pulling the covers over his lap.

"Hart, I feel something warm."

"Hot gel packs." Her heart tripped over as she admired his perfect profile limned against a still refulgent sky.

As they set off, Maura settled comfortably next to Hart. The scudding of the rudders through snow and the bells on the harnesses added their own music to the winter evensong.

He glanced at her. "You're quiet."

She sighed. "I was just thinking that I haven't had time to notice the beautiful things around me in a long time. The scenery is gorgeous."

They stopped near the edge of the pond by a stand of snow-frosted pines. Across the frozen water, the bare black limbs of the deciduous trees meshed together, forming a dark net of branches against the white of the landscape.

"You should see this place in the autumn. The foliage looks like beaten copper and gold, and you get a double doze of color 'cause the pond acts like a mirror." Hart secured the brake.

"Why Dr. MacKenzie, I do believe you have the soul of a poet."

He chuckled. "Just telling you what I see."

Removing their shoes, they laced on their skates, putting guards on their blades. Maura flung back the hood of her cape as he got down and helped her descend.

His gaze swept over her. "Nice outfit."

"Thanks." Thrilled to her toes by his compliment, she shrugged self-consciously. They walked to the edge of the pond and removed their blade guards, leaving them in the snow. He took hold of her hand, and they slid across the milk-glass surface to the sound of their blades scoring the ice in perfect synchrony while dusk fell like a whisper of gray silk.

"Can you spin?" Hart smiled.

"A little."

"Let's see." He let go of her hand.

Maura glided away, gaining enough speed, then rotated into a spin, her cape flaring, slowing her down. His applause exhilarated her.

Hart sped toward her and took both of her hands, skating backward as she propelled herself forward. "Having fun?" He grinned widely, and his breath formed big puffs of vapor in the frigid air.

"Yes. I feel freeeee," she shouted into the wind, feeling as light as thistledown.

He released one of her hands. Moving to her side, Hart put his arm around her waist. They continued to skate in long rhythmic strokes over the glazed pond while the sky deepened from the blue-gray of twilight into inky black of night.

The full moon rose like a spotlight, and stars glittered in a velvet sky, turning the snow to an expanse of sparkling silver.

After about an hour he asked, "You getting cold?"

"A little."

"Let's get some coffee," he suggested.

Skating to the bank of the pond, they donned the blade guards, headed for the sleigh, and shed their gloves and skates. Maura quickly slipped her feet on one of the hot packs as Hart reached for the Thermos and poured out the steaming liquid into mugs. She snuggled under the blankets and took a sip, testing the temperature. "This is not quite like any coffee I've ever had. Is there some sort of brandy in it."

"Single malt, twelve-year-old Scotch whisky and a dash of sugar. At home I put a froth of cream on top, sort of like Irish coffee, but I was afraid it wouldn't work in a Thermos."

"It's heavenly," she remarked. Feeling the intensity of his gaze, she looked up. "Aren't you going to drink yours?"

"Uh-huh." He took a swig then followed up with a deep gulp. "Better go easy. You'll get arrested for drunk driving?" She giggled.

"I doubt it." He grinned. "I didn't spike it that much."

Finishing her drink, she set the cup on the seat and sat back, feeling the whisky warm her blood.

"So what else do you do in your spare time besides skating and skiing?" Hart asked.

Maura realized that she and Hart knew little about each other even though they had lived in the same house for several days. He hadn't been the kind of host that encouraged an exchange of confidences.

She sighed. "I'm lucky to be able to do those things even occasionally since I work at the clinic until five, and on some nights and weekends I lecture or moonlight at another hospital. When I'm not studying or reading professional journals, I take Wags for walks then just relax and watch some T. V."

"When do you practice skating?"

"My ice time is five a.m. on Wednesdays."

"What a grind!"

She gave him a wry smile. "Couldn't be helped for a long while. Working-class girls from South Boston don't have rich parents. I didn't want to use any of the insurance money my mom left me to pay back my educational loans. I kept that for the pharmacy."

"I guess you haven't had it easy." Compassion glimmered in his eyes.

"Well, I had a great mother, a good boss, and the best friend I could ever want. She had it just as tough."

"Gloria?" He smiled.

She nodded. "The best lawyer in Boston. I should listen to her. She's usually right. She told me not to go out in that storm. She also couldn't stand...."

He moved closer and put his arm over the edge of the seat. "Your ex?"

Maura shrugged. The pain of rejection ached, and she felt the humiliation of being scorned burning in her cheeks. "I'd rather not talk it. It's over. Besides, I would never fit in with those people. No matter what I accomplished, to them I'd always be a shanty Irish girl from South Boston."

"Actually, I think you've got more guts and character than anybody I ever met."

His words caused a lump to form in her throat. She turned away, blinking back the tears that threatened. "Thanks, Hart."

He released the brake, unsecured the reins, and urged the team on. Huddled in the sleigh, they rode back in a comfortable silence. When they arrived at the barn, he made no move to get down.

"Shouldn't we put up the horses?" she asked.

"They can wait a few minutes. I haven't looked at the stars for a long while."

"They seem so bright here in comparison to Boston."

"The city lights cause them to sort of fade out," Hart answered.

They sat back and gazed skyward for a few minutes and Maura picked out the North Star.

"Want some more coffee?" he asked.

"I'd love some."

Retrieving their mugs, Hart poured. As he gave her the cup, his big hand grazed hers, causing her heart to beat with the resonance of a kettledrum.

"It's so quiet," Maura said.

"Yeah, sometimes all you can hear is the wind in the trees or an owl hooting."

"You make it sound so lonely."

"Sometimes it is." His gaze melded with hers.

She was curious about his love life. She almost stooped to asking Cory about it once, but had refrained. Still, she wondered where he went when he left at times. "Uh...no women friends?"

Pain haunted his face. "Nothing serious since my wife left about two years ago."

She couldn't move and scarcely breathed as the weight of his admission stunned her. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't even know you had been married. No one said--I mean Cory never mentioned--"

"I know. The situation has been hard on all of us. No one but Emily ever mentions it. But then she can't keep her mouth shut about anything."

"How long were you married?"

"Two years. She left after the first one, though. During the second, we negotiated the divorce settlement." He gulped back the coffee and placed the cup on the floor.

"Any children?"

"No. She said she wanted to wait. To be honest, I don't think she wanted them at all or me either when I came back here to practice."

"I'm sorry, Hart." Maura finished her drink, putting the empty mug on the seat.

"It's for the best." His gaze collided with hers, galvanizing her. She tried to fight the attraction, but it that was stronger than anything she'd ever felt for any man. Acutely attuned to him, Maura inhaled his scent of brisk air, whisky, and clean, wholesome male. "B-But you've dated."

"Sure, but I haven't wanted another woman until--"

Suddenly, he embraced her, and Maura heard her empty mug tumble to the floor as his warm, coffee-flavored lips crushed hers. She opened to him, allowing him to deepen the kiss, savoring the delectable texture of his velvety tongue as every cell in her body responded to him.

Fingers working hastily, she unbuttoned his jacket and flannel shirt then wound her arms around his lean middle. Again and again his lips slanted over hers, becoming more insistent, leaving her breathless, trembling, wanting more.

Hart discarded her cape, sweater, and jersey. Pulling the quilt over them, he stroked the length and breadth of her back. He broke the kiss and his lips charted a course down her neck while his deft fingers unhooked her bra, slipping it from her shoulders.

"Hart," she gasped as he flicked his thumb over her erect nipple. Jolts of pleasure pulsated through her. His lips feasting on her other breast, Maura arched, pressing it against his hungry mouth.

Sheltering her with the blankets, Hart urged her onto his lap so that she faced him, straddling his powerful thighs. In the winter moonlight, his face wore a fine sheen of moisture.

Leaning against the seat, Hart cupped her buttocks, kneading her to him as he claimed her mouth again. She felt his arousal straining between them. She rocked her hips against him, her excitement leaping like a winter bonfire against a night sky. Despite the cold, her body thrummed with heat.

"You make me crazy," he murmured between kisses.

She felt her own sanity slipping away.

"I want you, Maura."

A low groan escaped her throat as his admission served to fuel her excitement. She wanted him--too much. Suddenly, an alarm went off inside her head. "Hart, wait a minute."

"Why?" he whispered, continuing his erotic siege.

"I...we, uh, don't have protection."

"No problem," he whispered. "Slip your hand into my jacket pocket."

Complying with his request, she felt two foil packets. She relaxed as his heat and strength seemed to seep into her bones, exciting her beyond all endurance.

He unbuttoned her slacks and slipped his hand under her clothes, discovering her sex. Maura gasped as his fingers stroked her nub, stoking her fire and bring her closer to fulfillment.

"Hart," she cried, feeling she would die of need.

Suddenly, a horn blared and headlights blinded her.

Startled, Maura jerked away, instinctively sinking deep beneath the blankets. Her face felt hot with shame as she quickly slipped on her cape.

Hart turned, looking at the approaching vehicle. "I'll kill Ben with my bare hands."

Fingers trembling, Maura fumbled for her discarded bra and sweater. She hoped Ben wouldn't notice how flushed her face was as she bunched up her discarded clothes beneath her cloak and buttoned her slacks.

Ben pulled up beside them and rolled down the window. His face wore a look of urgency.

"Hart, Cory said she wasn't feelin' too well and went to lie down on the couch. Now, I can't wake her."

Chapter Seven

Like icy fingers, fear gripped Hart. "Have you called Doc?"

"Ayuh, but he's at the hospital deliverin' a baby," Ben answered.

"Do you know if she's taken her insulin?"

"Right on schedule."

"Did she seem a little irritable and confused?"

Ben nodded.

"Oh, Hart!" Wide-eyed, Maura stared at him.

The terror in her eyes mirrored his own dread because they both had the same apprehension. Cory might have taken too much insulin. If so, every second counted, and still she could die. Dear God, he couldn't believe this was happening to him a second time!

Hart lifted the reins, panic rising like a storm surge.

"Wait, Hart," Maura stilled his hands. "I have some glucagon."

"You do?" Gratitude flooded his soul.

"Yes. I always carry it with me in my first aid kit. I'll get it." Jumping down from the sleigh, she bolted to the house.

Maura was an answer to his prayers. The drug raised the blood glucose level and reversed an insulin reaction.

"Ben, go back to Cory. We'll catch up."

His stomach in knots, Hart hurried to the garage and started his car. Using the car phone, he called one of his crew to put up the horses just as Maura came running toward him.

She slid in next to him, a case in her hands. "Let's step on it."

Hart gunned the gas, and the chains on his wheels ground into the ice as they sped off to the little bungalow.

He hoped with all his heart they wouldn't be too late. Ben and Cory were family to him. She'd been like an aunt, baking him cookies and patching up his skinned knees when he was a kid. Most of all, she loved him, and he loved her--more than he could say.

Reaching the house in a few minutes, they rushed past a stricken Ben to the couch where Cory lay, her face the color of day-old cinders. Hart prayed he wasn't going to lose another woman he loved. He did a quick examination and felt certain that Cory had taken too much insulin. "Maura, the glucagon, now!"

Hart noticed how steady her hands were as she removed the seals on two small bottles then set down the one containing the glucagon powder. He watched nervously as she pulled back the plunger of the syringe and pushed the needle through the stopper of the bottle containing a liquid that would dilute the glucagon. Displacing the air in it, she turned it upside down, drawing up as much of the fluid into the syringe as possible. Removing the needle, she inserted it into the bottle of powder, injecting in the liquid. She pulled out the needle and shook the mixture until the glucagon powder dissolved and the liquid became clear. Plunging the needle through the stopper again, she drew up the glucagon mixture into the syringe.

"Ben, let's roll Cory on her side," Hart said. "The injection may cause her to vomit after a while, and we don't want her to choke."

Maura approached them. As she held out the needle to Hart, he saw her hands were still steady. In an emergency, she could give the injection, but she was deferring to him because he was the physician. For two cents, he'd let her do the honors. Instead, he accepted the needle--and the responsibility.

Hart swallowed hard and inhaled a deep breath. God help us. Bending, he jabbed it into Cory's arm.

Maura walked to Ben. "You have any idea how this happened?" Terror in his eyes, the older man nodded. "It's no wonder. She can hardly see with those old glasses. I told her to get the lenses changed, but she kept putting it off. She doesn't like to wait in the optician's office."

Maura sank into an armchair. "As soon as Cory wakes, and she feels sure she won't be sick, we'll need to give her some juice because the glucagon acts for just a short period of time. Then she'll need to eat a longer acting carbohydrate and protein. Ben, would you make her half of a meat sandwich?"

"Sure thing," the old man answered. "Before I do, I want to thank you both. I have to admit I was scared slap to death."

So was I.

"I know." Maura nodded. "I've been trained to do that, but when the crises hits you, it scares the starch out of you."

She had worked the emergency with complete competence and as if she had nerves of steel.

Ben took hold of her hand. "You're a real lady, Maura."

"Thank you, Ben. That means a great deal to me."

Hart felt the same way. Her preparation had meant the difference between life and death.

"If you hadn't had that drug--" Ben's voice broke, and his eyes filled with tears.

"I carry it around in my bag all the time," Maura answered, looking drained.

Hart wondered why but didn't ask the reason. Instead, he said, "I still want to put Cory in the hospital for a few days until her condition stabilizes, Ben."

"Anything you say." Ben nodded, relief evident on his face. "I better get the juice and sandwich."

"I'll call the hospital." Hart picked up the phone.

Cory finally gained consciousness and ate, and Maura helped her pack a bag. Then Hart and Ben assisted the woman out of the house and into the back seat of the car.

"Just rest your head on my shoulder, sweetheart," Ben said his arm around Cory.

A lump formed in Hart's throat. The couple had been married for forty years, yet the love between them glowed so obviously, it felt almost tangible.

Maura slipped in the front seat, and they drove off. Hart thought the trip to the hospital would never end. He wanted to speed, but the roads still had some ice patches, which could be treacherous.

Finally, they arrived at the emergency room. Maura and Ben took care of the insurance questions, while Hart went with Cory.

Making sure she was in good hands, Hart returned to Maura and Ben who were sitting quietly in the ER waiting room. Tomorrow, he'd give Doc a report. "She's fine now. We can go home and get some rest."

"I think I'll stay," Ben stated.

"There's no use making yourself sick, Ben." Hart put his hand on the older man's shoulder. "Cory needs a healthy husband."

Maura took Ben's hand. "Hart's right."

Ben's face crumbled, and tears streamed down his cheeks. Maura pulled out her hanky, offering it to the man as she put arms around him.

Hart admired her, proud and grateful for what she had done for all of them.

"Maura, will you stay in town until Cory is released?" Ben pleaded. I know she will listen to you about her diet and all."

"But Hart can do the same thing."

"Hart doesn't practice any more."

She looked at Hart, and he broke eye contact with her, unable to bear the question in her eyes.

"Yes, Ben," she answered. "I still have several days of vacation, but even if I didn't, I'd stay."

"Thank you."

The three of them left the hospital, walking into the cold night.

As they drove home in silence, Hart relived Maura's quick, decisive action over and over in his head. He wanted to tell how proud he was of her, but he wanted to do it right. Now, with Ben in the back seat, didn't seem like a good time. Tomorrow, he would take her to dinner. Over wine and candlelight, he would express his thanks.

They dropped Ben off, and Hart drove home. Once inside the house, he and Maura made beelines for their rooms. Exhausted, Hart stripped off his clothes, showered, and fell into bed.

But sleep eluded him. He felt so tense, his shoulders ached. He had come too close to losing someone he loved--again. He'd been panicked when he stuck that needle into Cory's arm.

Damn! He was supposed to be a trained physician, and he had felt like a green intern. The episode clearly demonstrated another example of how unfit he was to practice medicine.

He knew Maura didn't approve of his decision, but how could he ever tell her his reasons? She was so confident, she'd never understand. Besides, Hart didn't want her to see his emotional warts, especially since he was so attracted to her.

The memory of her wide, green eyes, dark with passion, sucked the breath out of him. He could still feel the softness of her curves molding to him. He remembered the smooth texture her breasts and how her nipples swelled into buds beneath his touch.

How he wanted her! Rolling over, he punched the pillow in frustration.

Suddenly, Hart heard a crash. He bolted upright in bed. Had she fallen? He grabbed his robe and opened the door, his bare soles cold against the wooden planks of the oak floor. Hurrying down the steps, he heard noise from the back of the house.

"Quiet, Wags," Maura whispered, her back to him as he stood in the doorway of the kitchen.

Wrapped in a blue quilted robe and shod in blue fuzzy slippers, she mopped a big puddle of milk with a sponge mop.

"Stop trying to lick that up, Wags," she hissed urgently.

Hart cleared his throat. She gasped and jumped up, facing him.

"I didn't mean to scare you." He walked toward her. "I heard a crash."

"Sorry I disturbed you, Hart. I couldn't doze off. I thought something warm would relax me, but I was so tired, I spilled the milk when I tried to pour it in the mug." She continued to sop up the liquid.

He took a roll of paper towels from the counter. "Here, let me help you."

The job finished, they rinsed the mop and washed their hands.

"You still keyed up?" he asked.

"Yeah." She nodded, looking exhausted.

"You and Wags relax in the den. I'll bring you some of Cory's special hot cinnamon cider."

"Sounds like a winner to me. Come on, Wags."

**

Maura lit the lamp on the table and plopped into the plaid-covered divan as Wags cuddled up over her fuzzy slippers. She threw more kindling and another log over the smoldering embers in stove. Soon the room glowed with firelight. The peaceful atmosphere beckoned to her jangled nerves, and she felt herself begin to relax.

Hart entered, holding two mugs of cider, curls of steam rising from them. A crop of dark hair curled above the neckline of his robe, and his powerful legs jutted out naked beneath its hem as he took a seat next to her. Obviously, he was not wearing pajamas. Her imagination spun into a delightful fantasy.

Handing her a mug, he took a swig of the hot juice. "You beginning to unwind?"

"A little." She took a sip of the warm liquid. "I know what you mean." He blew out a breath. "That call came too close."

She empathized.

"I don't know if Cory would have made it if you didn't have that glucagon. I owe you a lot, Maura. You'll never know how much."

Overcome by the emotions of the whole event, she bit her lips to try to keep her chin from trembling, but her eyes filled with tears.

"Don't cry, Maura. You saved a life tonight."

"We saved a life." She set her cup on the table.

"You didn't need me, Maura."

"Why do you say that?" She sniffed, wiping her tears on the sleeve of her robe.

"Because you could have administered that injection without me, and you know it." He put his cup down. Standing, he strode to the window.

She walked up behind him, putting her hand on his arm. "Maybe so, but I didn't. You did. What's with you, Hart? You're a good doctor. Why won't you cut yourself some slack?"

"I don't want to talk about it." His back to her, he ran his fingers through his hair. "I'm sorry, Maura. I guess you think I'm an idiot."

"Not at all. Actually, I think we made a good team, working that crisis."

He faced her, and his gaze riveted her soul, causing desire to explode within her like a volley of fireworks.

"You do?"

She nodded, breathless with longing as his male presence seemed to expand, displacing everything else in the room.

He pulled her into his arms. "I need you, Maura. So much it's tearing me apart."

The contact with his hard body caused her to quiver.

"I want you," he murmured urgently. "And right now, I don't give a damn about anything else."

His skin smelled like a fresh sea breeze on a summer day, and she reveled in the strength of his arms, wanting him with an all-consuming passion.

Hart kissed her ravenously, making her tremble with primal longing as he launched a relentless siege. Her breasts tingled and spasms clenched low in her abdomen

He untied her belt and removed her robe so it heaped onto the floor as he dropped kisses on her face, neck, and shoulders. He slipped down the lacy straps of her silky nightgown. The garment slid over her flesh and whooshed to a silken puddle at their feet. He moved back and gazed at her. "You're more beautiful than I ever remembered, Maura."

She felt a hot flush of excitement spread over her body. "I want to see you too."

He threw off his robe and stood in naked glory. She had imagined his body would be well conditioned, but his tall frame far exceeded her expectations. A huge chest and broad shoulders tapered to a flat, hard stomach, and lean thighs. His brawny arms and legs bulged with muscles, and his male flesh jutted forward, proud, exultant, straining with life.

She felt as if she were caught in a whirlwind as he swept her into his arms and carried her up to his room, laying her on the bed. He bent and removed her slippers, one by one, kissing the instep of each foot. The contact of his warm lips set off a series of small explosions traveling up each limb. She moaned with deep pleasure, wanting to feel the gentle touch of his mouth all over her body.

He reclined beside her, taking her in his arms again, renewing his kisses. Maura returned them as her palms skimmed over his body, venturing into erotic exploration.

She gasped audibly when he took one hard, tingling nipple into his mouth while gently teasing the other between his thumb and forefinger. Each tug on her breasts produced a pleasant clenching spasm to contract low in her belly, and a spring of moisture bathed her thighs.

His gentle hands continued to caress her flesh, traveling lower and lower until his fingers burrowed beneath the patch of hair between her thighs. Her hips jerked upward to meet his touch, and her excitement increased beyond endurance. Unerringly, he found her sensitive nub, caressing it relentlessly as he slid a finger inside.

"Hart," she gasped, as her sheath gripped it, and her body exploded with exquisite pleasure.

He drew her on top of him and reached into the night drawer of the nightstand, pulling out a foil packet.

"Let me," she said on short breath. Opening the condom, Maura slowly rolled it down his hard erection, causing them both to further rush into the swirling vortex of frenzy. In one lithe movement, Hart placed her beneath him as he loomed, poised. His penetration filled her completely, and Maura gloved the long, full length of him.

"Maura," he murmured, "you are unbelievable."

He drew back almost entirely and thrust again. Finding a tantalizing rhythm, he repeated the movement time and again, the friction causing her to spiral toward fulfillment again.

She felt a cry tear from her throat.

"Those little noises turn me on even more," he whispered.

Each plunge increased her pleasure, and Maura felt the tension coil tighter and tighter until it snapped. The sun seemed to burst, and her body pulsed with another, stronger release.

Moments later, Hart tensed above her, then collapsed on her, his face buried in her neck. "Powerful," he said.

"I know," she answered.

A few minutes later, he rolled to his side and headed toward the bathroom. Returning, he cradled her spoon fashion.

Maura soon fell asleep, content in the secure sanctuary of his big body.

**

Still half asleep, Hart rolled over and reached for Maura, but her side of the bed felt empty, cold. The smell of hot coffee and biscuits drifted on the air as he opened his eyes. Unable to suppress a smile, he rose and made for the kitchen.

Swathed in her wrapper, fuzzy slippers on her feet, Maura stood at the big stove, lifting the fragrant, sizzling bacon from the skillet with a pair of tongs. She held out a strip for Wags who sat close by, looking up at her with soulful eyes. The beagle pounced on the strip of meat and seemed to inhale the treat.

He came up behind her and nuzzled her neck. "I thought Wags just ate dog food."

She turned. "You're naked. Aren't you cold?"

He laughed. "Uh-uh. Hot is more like it."

"Ummm. Big talk."

"How can I convince you?"

"A free sample might persuade me."

His heartbeat quickened as he untied her robe. Slipping his arms beneath the garment, he pulled her close, feeling as if he was holding paradise. He inhaled the warm scent, and tasted the sweetness of her mouth as her lips parted for him.

He began to spin out of control, feeling the thrust of her hard nipples pressing into his chest. "Maura," he whispered hoarsely, "leave the food on the counter. We can warm it later."

They headed back to the bedroom. She shed her nightgown and slippers, and they tumbled onto the bed again.

She laughed. "At this rate, we'll run out of protection."

"Not a chance." He laughed and drank in the perfume of her hair. "I just bought a whole supply."

"Goodness! Percival will have the news flying all over town. He winked. "I bought them in St. Albans. You're not the only one who plans. Besides, Percival was quite a charmer in his day."

"Is there a man in this town who isn't?" "Maybe Luther Herbert." He nibbled on her ear. "Who is he?"

"The Methodist Minister," Hart whispered. "Then again, his wife smiles a lot."

She giggled, and he couldn't get enough of the smell of her hair, the touch of her skin, or the taste of her mouth. She rekindled sensations and emotions he thought had died long, long ago. She made him feel whole and completely alive again for the first time in years. Hart wanted to hold her forever and never let her go.

She writhed beneath him, urging him on. His body needing hers, his heart a tumult of longing, he reached for another condom, slipped it on, and took possession. The clasp of her silken body around him, he lost himself in her being, conscious only of her welcoming body and the sound of her sweet voice calling his name as he felt her reach fulfillment.

His excitement mounted until his body erupted in a wild, hot surge of pulsing ecstasy. Completely spent, he lay embedded deep within her warmth. How had he lived for so long without her?

"That was more overwhelming than the first time." Maura threaded her fingers through his hair. "I never knew it could be like this.

"I did. In fact, I dreamed of it since the moment I saw you."

"Then why were you so mean to me?" She caressed the back of his neck.

"I wasn't mean."

"You were so."

"Sorry, Maura. I just associated you with losing my property." He kissed her again then rolled to her side and slipped his arm beneath her neck, pillowing her head on his shoulders. "I wish you didn't have to go back to Boston so soon," he said softly.

"I don't want to either, but I have to, Hart."

He slid his rough palm over the porcelain-smooth texture of her arm. "You've got to get your stuff and wrap up the loose ends."

"I haven't got much; just some books, a TV, VCR, and clothes.

"What about work?"

"My boss hired another pharmacist part time because he knew my plans. I've always wanted my own place, and I was up front about that from the very beginning. I've been training that person to take over my position."

"So you could finish up in about two weeks?"

She nodded and kissed his shoulder.

"Maura, let me go with you?"

She looked at him, a question in her eyes. "Whatever for? I can manage. I've been doing it for years."

Darn, she was too independent. "I don't want you traveling on those icy roads all by yourself."

"But I'll be there for two weeks. I can't just leave without notice."

"I can take a vacation. Ben can manage the operation for a while."

"Over-protective aren't you?" She kissed his cheek.

He nuzzled her neck. "You bet." Now that he'd found her, he didn't want to lose her. "Suppose your car breaks down on the way back?"

"I'll call the motor club. Once I get back to the dealership in Boston, I'll go to the manager. If I don't get satisfaction, I'll paint lemons on that Jeep and park it in front of the place. Better still, I'll sic Gloria on them."

He kissed the tip of her pretty nose. "So you want me to come?"

She smiled and nodded.

"I'll take the truck and help you move."

"Boston is a great town with lots to do."

"You sound like the Chamber of Commerce." He pulled her closer.

"Well, it's my home."

"From now on Vermont is your home." He kissed her again. "And unless you're sold on staying in that apartment above the pharmacy, I know a great place to rent. You can stay at the next farm, Cross Winds. At night, we can visit."

She disengaged herself. "No, Hart, I'm sold on the apartment for now."

"Why?" Her refusal stung him.

"Because it's convenient. I'll have to do a lot of work in the beginning. I'll be putting in very long hours."

"Are you going to work twenty-four hours a day?" At this rate he'd never see her.

"Hart," she caressed his cheek. "We're going at warp speed. We've got all the time in the world."

Unconvinced, he nodded. "All the time in the world isn't very long for some people."

"Ssshhh." She put a finger to his lips. "Don't spoil what we've just shared with sad memories. You do understand, don't you?"

"I suppose." He did, but he didn't like it. Hart got up from bed.

"Where are you going?"

"I have to tell Doc about Cory."

"Aren't you going to care for her?"

"Maura, I don't practice anymore."

"Why not? You're a good doctor."

"I don't want to talk about it."

After he phoned Doc, Hart headed for the bathroom as self-blame rode his back like a monkey. Closing the door, he turned on the shower, standing under the warm water. He should probably tell Maura about it, but every time he thought about his mother's death, he relived the pain.

Why the hell couldn't everyone just forget he was ever a doctor and just leave him alone?

**

As promised, Maura had waited a few days for Cory to leave the hospital before she made her departure. Now that the elderly woman was home, Maura sat at the big harvest table in Cory's cozy kitchen, taking on her first patient of her new practice.

She opened the thick envelope that Cory had taken home from the hospital and leafed through the dietitian's instructions, all the while her thoughts gravitated to Hart like a compass needle toward north.

They'd be alone together for the next few days, and Maura anticipated a marvelous time. She couldn't wait for Gloria to meet him. She smiled. Her friend would like him.

Wags stood, stretched, and yawned. Maura bent down, petting the dog's smooth coat, but realized Ben and Cory were staring at her. She'd better get to work.

"Well, here's Doc's prescription, twenty units of insulin at night and ten in the morning." Maura pointed to it, letting her and Ben see the order.

"This time you'll get it right, now that you got your glasses checked," Ben growled.

"Hush, Ben," Cory retorted.

"Well, just in case, here are your glucose tablets. If you begin to feel shaky, take one. We certainly don't want a repeat of insulin reaction." Maura set the amber plastic bottle on the table.

"No, I don't," Cory assured her with a nod.

The kettle softly whistled, and Ben stood, pouring the water into the teapot.

"Now, Doc wants you to lose some weight," Maura said.

"I know." Her plump, cheerful face fell. "He fussed at me this morning."

"That will be some trick." Ben chuckled. "She'd eat in her sleep if she could."

"Oh, Ben. You eat twice what I do."

"I get out and about, woman. I exercise."

"Well, the weight loss will help reduce your blood pressure, Cory," Maura added. "Maybe we can get your weight down to a place where you don't have to take the blood pressure medicine anymore."

"You're talking yourself out of business, lady," Ben quipped.

"I'll make out." Maura laughed.

"Oh, dear. So many things to do," Cory wailed. "Now don't get discouraged." Maura knew that patients often felt overwhelmed with all the aspects of treatment. They needed encouragement and to feel as if they were active participants in their treatment, not just victims of a disease. Maura poured some milk into her tea. "What goals do you think we should put down on your monthly treatment plan, Cory?"

"Well," she ventured tentatively, "I want to loose at least two pounds in the next month and keep my sugar stable."

"Great," Maura said. "How do you think you can accomplish those goals?"

"She and I can take a walk after supper," Ben suggested. "The weather will warn up soon."

"Wonderful," Maura encouraged. "It's good you're here to cheer her on, Ben. She needs your support." She took a sip of tea.

"And I'll stick to the diet the dietitian gave me. No cheatin' this time," Cory added.

"Good, I'll send those goals to Doc," Maura stated.

"Oh, Maura, I feel so good about you working with me," Cory said.

"So do I," Ben chimed in.

The doorbell rang.

"I suppose that's Hart, coming to take you back to Boston," Cory announced.

The door opened, and Hart strode into the kitchen. "I've got the truck packed and heating up." His gaze heated Maura up--everywhere--making her feel deliciously wanton.

"Have a safe trip and hurry back," Ben slapped Hart on the back.

"Thanks," Hart responded, looking at Maura. "We will."

Maura knelt besides Wags. "Be good for Cory and Ben, girl. I'll be back in a few days."

"Don't worry about her," Ben said. "We'll take her for walks."

"I know she'll be much happier here than in Boston," Maura said, standing. "I really appreciate you caring for her."

"Think nothing of it, dear," Cory said.

They all walked out to Hart's truck, and Ben and Cory waved them good-bye.

**

Maura looked out the window of the Pier Four Restaurant, taking in the night-time view of Boston Harbor and Old Ironsides. The black water of the bay reflected the lights of the city like an explosion of dazzling fireworks. It was an analogy of her relationship with Hart--hot and breathtakingly passionate, yet dark with mystery. There was so much she didn't know about him.

Had she been a fool to become romantically involved with him? He was definitely out of her class in a lot of ways. He had all the polish and sophistication of an Ivy Leaguer. That was evident now that he was in Boston and away from the farm.

She was still South Boston and always would be. And why did he refuse to practice medicine? She had almost succumbed to temptation and asked Emily, but she wanted Hart to tell her.

"Thinking about a gorgeous hunk?" Gloria smiled.

"Sorry. I didn't realize I was ignoring you," Maura apologized, re-establishing eye contact with her friend.

"I won't hold you in contempt of court. I'd be distracted too if I had him interested in me." Gloria's gray eyes sparkled as she bobbed her black-winged eyebrows.

"I'm glad you like him. I value your opinion. You've always been right in the past."

"Thanks, but yeah. I like the guy. He seems to care about you and treats you with respect." She took a sip of coffee. "And I have a really good feeling in my gut about him."

Maura nodded. "He's very considerate. "But--"

"But what?" Gloria frowned.

Maura squirmed in her chair. Doubts kept nagging at the back of her mind.

"Quick, tell me before he comes back from the men's room," Gloria urged.

"Well, he's a good doctor, but he refuses to practice. I can't understand that, Gloria. You know how hard I worked to get my degree and license." She stared at her apple pie, suddenly losing her appetite.

"Do I! Damn, that time you hurt your back, you had me go to some of your classes and tape the lectures." Gloria rolled her eyes. "I never understood a word of that stuff. And how could I forget wheeling you to class in that wheel chair when the doctor finally allowed you out of bed. And you still graduated with honors."

"And I'm sure medical school is harder." Maura shook her head. "Why would he throw that all away?"

"Maybe he realizes he doesn't like medicine. He has the right to change his mind. Besides, it's not like the guy is a bum. From what you told me, he works hard and is providing jobs for his community."

"I suppose, but--" Maura crossed her arms and sat back.

"But what?" Gloria turned her palms upward.

Maura sighed. "He seems unhappy about the decision. If he were comfortable about his choice, wouldn't he talk about it?"

"Men don't always talk about the stuff that matters. It's a guy thing. But I think something else is bothering you." Gloria seemed to penetrate Maura's mind. "You've never quit anything in your life, and you can't understand how Hart can, so you're concerned about his character."

Maura sighed. "Maybe you're right."

"Sometimes it's okay to change you're mind, especially when you know you've made a big mistake." Gloria took a sip of coffee.

"But I hate to see him tied up in knots and--" Maura looked away.

"Now what?"

"Well, he graduated from Brown Medical School. He came from a nice, stable, upper-middle class family, and you know about my background. I mean there's a picture of my folks in the dictionary next to that word dysfunctional."

Gloria leaned forward. "Give yourself a break, Maura. I mean look what you've accomplished. Anyway, your mom was great. It was just your dad who was, shall we say, an unconventional type. Besides, you've risen so far above your beginnings, your worries don't merit a second thought."

But had she? Hart himself had told her he didn't like fortune hunters. Was he just playing with her the way Jason had? After all, even though he wasn't practicing medicine, he still was a successful businessman and wasn't hurting for money. More importantly, his family was old and respectable.

"You've got to forget that and how Jason and his family humiliated you. You're as good--no--you're much better than that jerk. You made it on your own. Jason Remington would be nothing without his money and family to prop him up." Gloria narrowed her eyes. "If Mr. Beacon Hill was so secure, why did he have to put you down to feel big?"

"I suppose you're right," Maura answered, feeling as vulnerable as she did when her father had walked out. "Oh, Gloria, tell me

Hart is not like Jason."

"Don't even go there." Gloria sat back. "In my opinion, Hart seems like a good guy. I've seen a lot of creeps in my line of work. I can spot one a mile off, and this time, I'm not getting a 'gut warning.'"

"Ssshhh. Here he comes," Maura warned, wishing she could feel sure about the handsome man walking toward them.

**

Two weeks later, Hart jumped down from the wagon and walked to a big maple. He called this special tree, Sweets, because the sap was more than three percent sugar, much higher than the usual yield.

Sweets. The name reminded him of Maura and the wonderful time they had spent in Boston. After she had finished her business affairs, their trip had been idyllic. They'd stayed at the Cambridge Bed and Breakfast, near Harvard, since Maura didn't think her widowed landlady would approve of them staying together in the small, furnished room. He wanted privacy when they made love anyway.

He smiled, recalling how they savored the clam chowder at Turner's Fishery and wine at The Vault. They had cuddled together, trying to keep warm when they took a ferry ride on Boston Harbor and later roamed the Freedom Trail. The memory of their nights caused Hart's temperature to rise.

On the last day, she handed in her key to the landlady, stashed her few belongings in Hart's truck, and they headed home.

All the fun had come to an abrupt halt as soon as they returned.

With the purchase of the pharmacy, she had little time to devote to him. Maybe he should be more supportive, but hell, when Maura wasn't working, she and Emily remained busy, decorating her apartment, or shopping for furnishings.

Hart took the pail from the peg and dumped its contents into the vat on the wagon, listening to the lullaby the wind sang through the trees. He returned the bucket to Sweets and moved on to the next tree, the Belgians patiently waiting for him to return with another precious burden.

"Jeeeze!" he muttered to himself. He hadn't seen her for three days. He'd called and asked her to supper, but she begged off, saying she just couldn't get away, or that she was exhausted and won't be good company.

Maybe he should develop diabetes, he thought. Then he would get some of her attention.

Bottom line was, Hart missed her. He had enjoyed sharing his home with her. Sometimes, when he was home alone and the house was quiet, he'd look up from his computer and almost expect her to come walking into the den. Now, the whole place seemed empty without her. So did his bed. How he wished she had chosen to live closer to the farm.

In spite of his best intentions, Hart felt neglected and frustrated. After he finished in the bush, he'd drive into town and pay her a surprise visit. Maybe he could entice her to have dinner with him tonight.

Chapter Eight

Maura sat in the back room of the store, tapping the end of her pencil on the top of her new roll-top desk. She perused the list of improvements she had compiled for the pharmacy. She had plenty of stock, but the placed needed refurbishing--desperately.

This weekend, she and Emily planned to start painting. Hart's generous cousin had given her so much advice with her new home, helping not only with the decorating, but also with the physical work. They'd transformed the little apartment into a cozy, comfortable haven.

The pharmacy was next. To start, the walls needed scrubbing, a coat of primer and at least two of fresh paint. Maura glanced at the floor. The worn vinyl begged for a new covering. Large squares of creamy beige ceramic tile would do nicely. Easy to wash, they'd stand up to the snow and slush of the long Vermont winters and the mud from the rainy springs. She'd buy a new rubberized mat to install behind the counter to protect her feet. After all, she would be standing most of the day. Maple paneling and colorful prints for the walls would create an inviting atmosphere for her consultation room.

She sat back in her chair and closed her eyes, visualizing the place. She wanted an informal friendly area--a space where folks could feel comfortable, at ease.

She intended to counsel her diabetes patients on an individual basis two nights a week. Furthermore, she planned to stock what they needed. Opening her eyes, she reached for a pad and began to design an area for medical equipment. She drew an area for wheel chairs, walkers, canes, etc. In another area she mapped out a space to display orthopedic shoes, gel insoles, special socks, elastic stockings.

She needed to hire someone to manage that department, which was another expense, but the medical equipment would be an additional investment, and she still had some of the insurance money left, since she did not buy the building. Maybe it had turned out for the best.

Once a month on Thursday evenings, she wanted to hold a series of lectures, asking a dietitian, podiatrist, and an ophthalmologist to speak. Doc Murray would cover the other medical aspects, and she would speak about medications.

Maura thought about asking Hart to contribute. But he'd probably cut her off short as he had before, telling her that he wasn't practicing medicine.

Still, maybe she could encourage him. It seemed such a waste for him not to give of his talent and expertise. On the other hand, he might become angry with her.

Somehow, that prospect frightened her because Maura realized she had fallen in love with Hart. But he hadn't said a word about his feelings. He never did, keeping silent about his emotions. Maybe Gloria was right when she said that was a guy thing.

Still, she wished she had some indication of how he felt about her. Maura knew he wanted her in the physical sense, but she longed for more.

The bell above the door jingled, and she stood, hurrying into the store. Her spirits lifted as Hart grinned and walked toward her. Moving to him, she met him half way as Wags scampered ahead, tail waving.

He took Maura into his arms and kissed her, causing her knees to feel like over-cooked noodles. Now that he held her, Maura realized how much she had missed him.

Still holding her, he drew back slightly. "I tried calling you several times, but your line stayed busy today."

She nodded. "I know. I've been here since six-thirty this morning, trying to get some things done before I opened for business."

"It's late, Maura. Can I buy you some supper?"

"Oh, Hart, I still have to move that card rack to the front, count down the cash register, shelve that box of bandages, and--"

His kiss stopped her words. As he pulled back, he said, "I'll help. We'll get done in no time."

"But you've had a long day too." She stroked his cheek.

"You reconcile the register." He turned away and stooped to open the box. "Let me see what I can do here."

She complied as Hart stopped for a minute to pet Wags then began stocking the shelves.

A few minutes later, she heard him drag the card rack to the front of the store. "Over here all right?" he called, pushing it into place.

She looked up and smiled. "Perfect."

The day's receipts balanced, she put the funds in the overnight deposit bag.

Hart walked to the back counter. "Ready to go?"

"Well, I really should--" "Maura, you can't work all the time. You look dead on your feet, and I haven't seen you in three days."

"Hart, you of all people should know it takes a lot of time and effort to start a new business. I told you I'd be spending a lot of time here."

Looking impatient, he exhaled a long, audible breath. "This is not a new business. It's well established and quite successful."

She bristled. "Are you saying that all I have to do is step into Percival's shoes?"

"Not really."

"Then what are you saying?"

"That you're working hard instead of smart."

"Really. Well, what do you know about it? I'm an independent pharmacist, just starting out on my own. My whole career is at risk here. I don't know if one of the superstores will open down the road and sell medication at lower than cost for a while to drive me out of business." She jabbed her index finger into his chest. "That's happened to a lot of old, established businesses. I'm also competing against those mail-order pharmacies. The only thing I have going here is the service I can offer that they can't. Why can't you be supportive?"

"Sorry," he answered tersely, "I thought I was. As for knowing about a business, I own several."

She didn't like his tone. "A pharmacy is different."

"Oh? Don't you follow the same business rules as everyone else?"

His sarcasm triggered her temper. Hands on hips, she replied, "I know I don't have any Ivy-League education, but I know about pharmacies and how to manage them. I worked in one from the time I was sixteen years old until I left to go to Jocelyn."

His jaw clenched tight, and his eyes looked like glacier ice. "Do you want some dinner or don't you, Maura?"

"Thank you, but I don't care to dine with anyone who has such a condescending attitude."

"Fine." He turned and left.

**

"Hell!" Hart slammed the end of his clenched fist on the steering wheel of his truck. What had happened? One minute she was warm and loving, the next she'd just turned on him.

He had just wanted her to take a break and have some dinner. In return, she accused him of being condescending! And the crack about the Ivy League education was a low blow and not the first time she had made reference to it.

Why did that bug her?

He pulled into the driveway and killed the engine. He sat staring into the night sky, trying to make some sense out of her reaction.

"Women," he said. Well, he'd give her a while to calm down. Then he'd try again.

**

Maura's anger dissolved in a sea of remorse. Hart had come, after putting in a hard day himself, to help her. And what had she done? She had reacted like an angry shrew.

Still, he had touched a nerve, and her anger boiled over. He would never understand what it felt like to be alone, with no one but yourself on whom to depend and without generations of inherited money and social position for security.

If she didn't work, she didn't eat, and that was all there was to it. The remains of the insurance money her mother had left her and this pharmacy were the only things that kept her from destitution. She and her mom had come close to that after her father died—actually while he was alive too on several occasions.

But the hardship had bolstered her determination to rise above. Pride surged through her, knowing she had. And no one would threaten her livelihood or security again!

**

Hart leaned on Abe's old desk, unrolling the blueprints of the building for the new mail-order house that he intended to call "The General Store."

Sitting beside him, Abe and Ellen poured over them as well.

"So what do you think?" Hart asked.

"Terrific," Ellen answered, smiling. "After the place is built, we can mail brochures all over the east coast, backing up the web site."

"This whole operation will run like a well-oiled machine." Abe looked up over his reading glasses. "Operators can take orders and punch them into the computers, the people in the stockroom would fill them."

"And hopefully, the folks in the dairy and sugarhouse would see that they had plenty of inventory," Hart added.

He planned to a have food section, featuring his maple syrup, in different grades, maple fudge, and of course, his Vermont cheddar, and the special flour he milled from his own wheat to make pancakes as well. He'd include novelty items that were hand-made by locals.

"I hope we can start building soon," Ellen remarked.

Hart chuckled. "The ground has thawed. The construction crews start next week. By the end of summer, the whole thing should be ready to roll, and we can take orders for Thanksgiving and Christmas."

"Oh, Hart, I can wait!" Ellen exclaimed.

"Neither can I," Abe agreed. "This is the shot in the arm this town needs."

"Now all we need is a doctor, and everything will be fine. Young folks will stay here because of the available jobs. Have you and Doc found anybody yet?"

"No." Hart shook his head, feeling guilty even though Abe and Ellen never pressured him.

"Well, I'm sure we'll attract someone once we get the mail-order house up and running." Abe smiled. "This is a good area to bring up children. The schools are good, and the crime rate is low."

"Sure." Hart re-rolled the blueprints. "Well, I better get going."

On the way out, Hart peered across the street to the pharmacy. He hadn't called Maura since they'd argued, and he missed her.

Opening his truck door, he retrieved a basket containing a clay pot of white, purple, and yellow crocuses from his greenhouse and a casserole Cory had made and walked into the store.

He stopped short, seeing Percival behind the counter instead of Maura.

"Don't look so shocked, Hart." Percival chuckled. "I know I'm not as pretty as Maura. She's upstairs, just came back from the hardware store."

"Oh," Hart answered, smiling. "Just couldn't stay away, huh?"

"Ayuh, I'm helping out part-time. I've been here too long to give it up all at once. Besides, Letty plays bridge on Saturdays and then gets her hair done so I just as soon be here. Run on up. I'm sure Maura will be glad to see you."

Hart wasn't so sure, but he walked through the back room and up the stairs. Maybe he should have called. But he didn't want an icy rejection over the telephone, and he wanted to see her.

Suppose she doesn't want to see you? Well, if she didn't, she was going to have to tell him in person. He knocked on the door, his heart thumping in anticipation as he waited for an answer.

Clad in a pair of form-fitting jeans and a yellow sweater, Maura opened the door. "Hart!" She smiled. "Come in."

Warmed by her welcome, Hart walked into the bright living room and handed her the basket.

"Thank you, Hart. They're lovely."

"You're welcome," he answered, noticing that she and Emily had transformed the place.

Using early American furniture in earth tones, they had turned the room into the kind of comfortable place he loved. Even Wags had a matching cushion in her basket.

The dog scrambled to him. Bending down, he gave Wags a pat then stood, his gaze meeting hers. "So, uh, you're not ticked off with me any more?"

She blushed. Looking at the floor, she shook her head. "I-It's good to see you again." She looked up. "Um, please excuse the mess." She gestured to the gallon cans, newspapers, and brushes. "I'm getting ready to paint the bathroom."

"Are you expecting Emily?"

"No. She told me what paint to get though."

"Well, I won't stay long but it's lunch time. I thought you might like to share a lobster casserole with me. If not, I'll take you out."

"Lobster casserole sounds yummy. Should I pop it into the microwave?"

"I guess. It was in the freezer. It should be thawed out by now, but it's still cold."

They moved into the newly decorated kitchen.

"This looks great, Maura."

She had also resurfaced the countertops and the back splashes in cream tile. Everything looked bright and clean.

"Well, when we took up the old linoleum, we found this beautiful oak floor. I did have the dishwasher put in. I hope you don't mind."

"Mind? Not at all. But I don't have the nerve to accept this month's rent or next month's for that matter."

"Thanks. I appreciate that. Everything else was in such good shape, all it needed was paint and paper."

Maura popped the food into the microwave, and he came up behind her. She turned, focusing her green gaze on him.

His body immediately responded.

"Hart, about the other night, I'm--"

"Forget it." He pulled her into his arms.

"But--"

He kissed her hard, his excitement soaring as she responded.

She broke the kiss as the microwave beeped. "Lunch is ready."

"It will keep for a while."

"Is that your subtle way of asking to see the bedroom?"

"Good suggestion. This oak floor can be hard on your back." His palm skimmed from her shoulders to her bottom.

"Right this way." She took him by the hand

**

Maura propped herself up on her elbow, watching him doze. Here she lay while a hundred and one things awaited her attention. But Hart had wanted her attention too. He had needed her the other night, but she had been too wrapped up in her work to understand that. He'd been nothing but kind to her.

The food, the flowers had been his way of patching things up between them. He'd made the first move when she'd been the first to anger. Now, she felt embarrassed by her behavior, but Hart had been so forgiving, he hadn't even allowed her to apologize.

She caressed his face. He looked so at peace. Yet, she couldn't help feeling that there was something deep down inside that tortured him.

Maura kissed his cheek.

"Mmmm, nice," he whispered.

"I thought you were asleep, you faker."

He opened his eyes and grinned. "I was. You woke me. I'm a light sleeper."

She remembered. She supposed doctors conditioned themselves, so they'd be alert when called for an emergency during the night. But he had not practiced in a while. Obviously, something else was keeping him on edge.

He tugged her arm, urging her to lie down next to him. She followed his lead, cuddling against his big, hard body.

He nuzzled her neck.

"Hart, I know you probably don't want to...but we need to talk."

He drew away, looking at her. "About what?"

"You and me."

"Okay." He kissed her temple. "Talk."

"There's just so much we don't know about each other."

He pulled away, his face a guarded mask. "I get it. You want to know why I don't practice."

"That's part of it, but intimacy means more than--"

"Falling into bed," he finished for her.

She sat up. "You don't know anything much about me, about my background."

"You told me you were poor. That you worked hard. I admire that, Maura, more than I can say. I'm taking you at face value, and I don't give a damn about your past."

But it mattered to her, and she wanted him to know everything and to make a decision about her having all the facts. "It's important, Hart. It's what made me what I am."

"Okay, if you want to, go ahead."

Maura bit her bottom lip to keep it from trembling, and she swallowed back her tears. As she told Hart about herself, she remembered her past in vivid deal. Recalling the grinding poverty, and the circumstances of her mother's demise, she shuddered.

After she finished, Hart said, "Your mother's death from insulin coma explains why you carry that glucagon around. I wondered about that, but I never found a good time to ask."

Brushing away a tear, she nodded. "I couldn't help her. I wasn't a pharmacist at the time, but I feel that I can help others."

He kissed her hand. "You help them every day, Maura."

"I hope so. It's important to me."

"What about the rest of your family?"

"My Dad's people were in Ireland. My mother was an only child, and her relatives lived in different parts of the country. I'm sorry, blubbering this way. But now you know. And if you don't want to continue--"

He pulled her into his arms. "Don't talk crazy, Maura. What's important to me is what you are now, what you've made of yourself."

"That's what Gloria says, but that doesn't seem to matter to some people."

"If it doesn't, then they're not worth bothering yourself about."

She put her hands to her face and began to cry.

"Go ahead, Maura. Get it out of your system," he said, folding his arms around her.

She cried for a long time, and he rocked her like a child. She broke away, reaching into the nightstand for a handkerchief.

"Ready to have some lunch?" he asked.

"Yes, but...."

"What now?"

"This conversation has been a little one-sided. Aren't you going to talk to me about yourself."

"I will, Maura, but not now."

"Don't you trust me?"

"Of course I do."

"Then?" She shrugged.

"I just need a little more time."

**

Hart looked out of the big den window. The snow on the distant hills had finally melted away, and the temperature had risen. Soon the hills and valleys would turn lush green, and the wild dogwoods and fruit trees would burst into blossom.

He envisioned packing a picnic basket and spending a leisurely Sunday afternoon in the woods with Maura. He pictured her slim body, arrayed in naked splendor, lying on a bed of thick, sweet grass, her arms outstretched, beckoning him to her love. He took a deep breath, almost smelling the fragrance of her subtle cologne, and feeling the gentle brush of her lips.

He was in love with her. The sudden realization stunned him. He never really formed that thought before. Shaken, he sat at his desk, unable to fight or deny the feeling.

He loved Maura with an intensity that shattered him to the very foundation of his being. He could imagine no other woman for him. He wanted her for his wife and the mother of his children.

Still, he had no knowledge of how she truly felt about him. They shared a blazing passion, and affection, but she had never uttered a word about feelings, marriage, or motherhood.

Right now, all Maura's energies went toward her work, even on Sundays. Though she had achieved success, she still felt like a vulnerable.

He could understand that. He had his own demons from the past. At least she was still fighting hers. His had all but rendered him helpless.

He admired her spunk, and determination. When she discovered the truth about him, would she consider him a cringing coward?

Sooner or later, someone would tell her. He couldn't understand why Emily hadn't blurted out the whole story to her by now. It was bound to happen. He needed to tell her himself--soon.

**

Maura slowly descended the ladder and set down the roller in the paint tray. She put her hand on the small of her back and stretched her tired muscles as she looked up at her handiwork. The pale yellow had transformed the walls from dingy to dazzling. The space looked twice as big as before and so clean and cheerful.

"What do you think, Emily?"

Her golden eyes' twinkling, Emily beamed under the green kerchief protecting her auburn hair. She stepped back, inspecting the walls. "This place has never looked so good. I tell you, Maura, I used to come in here and itch to scrub the walls and get rid of that hospital green color."

"You were right about that brand of primer, Em. It really covered that awful paint."

"I think we must have lost five pounds each today, whipping this area in shape. I can afford that." Emily patted her rounded hip. "But you can't."

Maura laughed. "I have lost a few pounds. I have so much to do I sometimes forget to eat.”

"I wish I could forget." Emily laughed.

"How am I ever gonna repay you for giving up another Sunday?"

"No thanks necessary. I just love to do this stuff. It actually energizes me. I get such a feeling of satisfaction. Besides, the guys wanted to watch the baseball game. After a while, I max out with sports, but they don't like romance movies. They call them chick flicks."

"Maybe Chase and Tim did, but Hart seemed miffed when we left after lunch."

"He'll get over it."

"He's been good, and really supportive, Emily. It's me. How do you juggle career and a family?"

"Haven't you had a relationship before this?" Emily's eyes widened.

"Sure. But, well, I wasn't, uh...." How could she tell Hart's cousin that Jason didn't demand a lot of her time? He traveled to Scotland in September for the grouse season. During the winter, he took several weeks off for skiing in Switzerland then went to Palm Beach until March. He spent a lot of the summer in Newport, Rhode Island or Cape Cod. Between those times, he dabbled in his law practice.

"Doesn't sound like it was a very committed thing." Emily raised her eyebrows.

Embarrassed, Maura didn't answer.

"Let's have some coffee," Emily suggested. "Sounds like you need to talk."

They picked up the paint materials and walked to the kitchenette in the back of the store. Setting the empty cans in the recycling bin, Maura put the tray and rollers in the sink to be rinsed. She pulled off her gloves and put a packet of coffee into the drip pot then poured in the pitcher of water. Almost immediately the fragrant aroma filled the air.

Curled up in her basket, Wags looked up, yawned, and then tucked her head back down on the plaid pillow.

Emily sat at the small table. "I hope you have some milk and sugar."

"I can do better than that." Maura smiled. "I've got half and half."

"Yum!"

Maura put the coffee fixings in a tray, carried them to the table, and sat. "So how do you do it, Em?"

"Well, it isn't easy. There's always the pull between work and home. Chase is really good, helping with Timmy and the chores. Also, I work out of our home 'cause my choice of career allows that. Besides, but I'm not looking to become rich."

The phone rang, and Maura answered it. "Just a minute." She held the phone out for Emily. "It's Chase."

"Hey, baby." A moment later, she responded, "Okay, I'll meet you at home. I'm leaving right now. Fine, I'll tell her. I love you too. Bye." She didn't replace the phone in its cradle, but handed it to Maura. "Hart wants to talk to you. I'll let myself out. Just watch me through the window until I get into my car."

"Okay," Maura agreed. Her heart soared as she took the phone and walked Emily to the door. "Hart, how are you?"

"Missing you," he answered.

"Same here." She waved through the shop window as Emily got into her car and drove off.

"Can I come round?"

"I wouldn't be much company, Hart. I'm exhausted, and I have a busy week ahead of me."

"Oh."

The disappointment in his voice cut her to the quick. She hated feeling guilty for refusing, but her bones literally ached from fatigue.

"What about tomorrow night? I'll have dinner all fixed so you won't have to do a thing."

"I can't. I'm giving a lecture about diabetes at a Lion's Club meeting."

"What about Tuesday?

"Rotary Club. On Wednesday, I have a meeting with an equipment salesman. As a matter of fact, I'm tied up until Saturday."

The silence on the other end of the line seemed to vibrate. Waiting for his angry protest, Maura tensed.

But relief spread over her like sunshine when she heard him say, "Good. I promised to take Tim for a buggy ride on the farm. Want to come along?"

"Oh, Hart, I'd love to!"

"Later that night there's a dance at the inn. Can I entice you into going?"

She had been working nonstop since she came back from Boston two months ago. She desperately needed to get out and have some fun. The idea of a day in the woods really appealed to her.

Furthermore, she hadn't been dancing in years. The thought of Hart's embrace made her insides quiver. "I'd like that, Hart."

"Great. Emily and Chase will be there. So will most everyone in town."

"Sounds lovely."

"Listen, take Wags. Tim will love that, and bring a change of clothes. You can shower and dress for the dance here at the farm after we come back."

"Fancy clothes?"

"If you want. And Maura...."

"What?"

"There's something else I want to discuss with you."

Maybe he would finally tell her why he'd given up medicine. Her heart began to pound. "Can't you talk to me now?"

"No. Not over the phone, and not when your tired. See you Saturday at about 10:00 a.m. if that's okay."

She managed to hide her disappointment. "Fine. I'll pack a picnic lunch."

"Sounds like a winner."

**

Picnic lunch finished, Tim ran to the edge of the cattail ringed pond, Wags loping along at his heals.

"Don't go too far, Tim. We have to keep you in sight, " Maura yelled as she and Hart sat in the shade of a newly leafed copper beech.

"Ssshhh, let him go," Hart said. "He'll be all right for a minute."

"But Emily will kill us if he falls in the water."

"Relax. It's not deep enough to drown, and I have plenty of experience dealing with folks who fall into my stock ponds." He chuckled. "Besides, there's something I want to do, and I could use some privacy for a minute."

She smiled. "Really? Are you going to tell me about what you wanted to discuss with me?"

Hart's breath caught as she smiled. He'd never seen her look so incredibly beautiful. Her perfume drifted around him like a spring mist as the light caught her hair. "Later. There's something I want to show you."

"Oh, what?"

"This." He gathered her into his arms, reveling in the softness of her touch, and kissed her. His excitement soared as her lips opened to him. Her mouth still tasted sweet from the breath mint she'd eaten.

"Hart, Maura, come look!"

Hart groaned, and they disengaged, looking around the wide trunk of a cooper beech as Tim whizzed toward them, Wags at his heels.

"There's a big, old bullfrog sittin' on a lily pad!" His snubbed nose wore a smudge of dirt, and his blue eyes gleamed with excitement. "Come see!" He crashed down next to them.

She laughed and patted his carrot-red head. "Okay!"

Breathing hard, Tim leapt to his feet and pulled her by the hand. "There's a bunch of neat things there."

She looked at Hart and smiled, rising to her feet. As they approached the pond, the deep croak of the bullfrog ascended from the depths of the rushes.

"He must be hiding now," Tim remarked. "Dad said that when a frog makes that sound, he's in love." He picked up a stone and threw it into the water, causing ripples to spread across the glassy surface.

"Dad says if the girl frog likes the song, they fall in love and get married." He looked up at Maura. "My mom and dad told me they're workin' real hard so I'll have a brother or sister. I never see them doing anything different. Do you know what kind of chore they have to do?"

Maura's shoulders heaved with silent laughter, and her amused gaze met Hart's.

"That's something you should ask your dad."

"Oh. I heard them say they're glad you finally got a woman, Hart," Tim continued. "Are you and Maura in love?"

Hart coughed nervously, and Maura blushed from the base of her throat to the roots of her hair.

"Tim, you shouldn't ask personal questions," Hart warned. "It's not polite."

"Sorry."

"It's okay." Maura smiled. "We all have to learn."

"Hart, why don't we ride in the buggy again?"

"Good, idea, sport." Hart smiled.

"Before we do that, would anybody like a another piece of devil's food cake?" Maura asked.

"All right!" Tim yelled, running back to the picnic blanket.

Maura and Hart returned a little more slowly. Sitting, she cut thick moist wedges, and they leisurely began to eat the luscious dessert.

"Did you bake this cake, Maura? Chocolate frosting smudged Tim's lips.

"Sure did."

"Will you make me another one?"

"I think I can manage that."

The cake consumed, Maura and Hart packed the remaining food away as Tim collected a bouquet of dandelions.

For the rest of the afternoon, Hart enjoyed just watching Maura with Tim. She patiently answered his endless stream of questions and seemed to know how to interest and entertain him, pointing out different wild herbs such as sassafras.

"People used to make tea from it, but we found out that it may not be safe for humans to drink over a long period of time."

"That's okay, Maura." Tim smiled up at her. "I'd rather drink chocolate milk."

"Me too." She winked.

"I hate to break this up, guys," Hart interrupted, "but we have to get you home, sport. You've got to take your bath before the baby-sitter comes."

"Yuck. I hate baths, and I don't want to go now," he whined.

"I know, but your mom and dad want to go to the dance. They won't be too happy if we're late."

"And they might not let us do this again," Maura added.

"Can we? Can we do it again?" Tim's little freckled face lit up with a smile.

"Of course we can, but we need to show your folks we can be trusted. Besides, I'll let you take home the rest of the cake so you can have another slice after supper tonight."

"Yes!" Tim said.

"Hart why don't you leave me at the farm," Maura suggested as he helped her into the wagon. "I need to shower and iron my dress for tonight."

"No problem," he whispered. "But you'd look sexy even in a potato sack."

Chapter Nine

Showered, her hair shampooed, Maura switched off the blow dryer and placed it on the dresser. Turning, she took the green silk-jersey sheath from the hanger and slipped it on as she listened to Hart singing in the shower.

Standing before the mirror, she applied her coral lipstick and ran the brush through her hair.

Maura liked this room with its dormer windows, slanted ceilings, and the big hearth. A multi-colored quilt covered the king-size bed. She had felt at home since the first night she'd slept there--the night Hart had carried her, tipsy with wine and desire, up the steps.

She shivered with need, remembering his arms around her. She loved him she now knew, but though he gave her his affection and all the attention she could want, he still kept a part of himself aloof.

All day she had waited for him to bring up the subject that he wanted to discuss with her, but he had said nothing. She didn't want to invade his privacy, but his lack of communication troubled her.

They had shared many things, but not real intimacy, even though they had been seeing each other for two months. That could only come with exchanging of confidences. To her, his reticence meant he didn't trust her enough yet.

And that hurt.

Especially since she had swallowed her pride, facing her fears of rejection, and told him everything about her not so attractive past to him. But he hadn't reciprocated.

The day was not over yet. She might still learn what caused that haunted look to stalk the depths of his cobalt-blue eyes.

**

Hart held Maura close, barely moving on the oak dance floor of the renovated barn as they swayed to the seductive the strains of the saxophone. He enjoyed the warmth of her body so close to his. Maura made him feel warm, good, as if she poured sunshine all over him.

Each time he looked at her, Maura's beauty startled him anew. Earlier, as she walked down the stairs into the living room, the sight of her made him want to forget the dance and make love to her on the spot.

Her green, silky dress hugged her curves, and her long, chestnut hair waved over her shoulders seductively.

Though he held her in his arms, Hart had never felt so nervous in his life. His heart thumped against his ribs in anticipation, but he couldn't wait any longer. Deep in his pocket, a small velvet box housed an emerald set in a rectangle of diamonds.

If she said "yes," Maura would be his forever.

"Don't monopolize the girl, Hart." Abe smiled. "Let us older folks have a turn."

"I'll wait for you at the table." Stepping aside, he reluctantly relinquished her.

Hart crossed the big post and beam room and caught sight of Emily and Chase dancing on the other side of the room. He chuckled, recalling Tim's innocent remarks earlier in the day.

"Feet sore yet, boy?" Ben smiled.

"Not yet. Are yours?" Hart pulled out a chair and sat at the table on the edge of the dance floor. He glanced upstairs, looking into what had once been the loft. The inn's restaurant swarmed with diners, enjoying the best food for miles around.

"Have one for the road." Ben picked up the wine bottle, ready to top Hart's glass.

"No thanks. I won't have time to finish it. I think we'll be leaving as soon as Abe cuts Maura loose."

"Want to get her alone and all to yourself?" Cory winked. "Don't you think Maura is just the best thing that ever happened to this town? Of course, besides you."

Hart agreed with her about Maura but not about himself. He felt he'd let the town down when he'd left the practice, no matter how much he tried to make up for it by doing other things.

"What I want to know is what you're waitin' for boy?" Ben shot him a look. "You better put a ring on her finger before someone else does."

"Fiddlesticks, Ben," Cory said. "It's as plain as the nose on your face that Maura's smitten."

Out of the corner of his eye, Hart saw Abe escorting Maura toward them.

Hart and Ben stood as they arrived.

"You about ready to leave?" Hart asked.

"Just about." Maura turned toward Abe. "Thank you for a lovely dance."

Abe beamed. "At the risk of soundin' like a cliché, the pleasure was all mine."

"Can't you do better than that, you old geezer?" Ben rolled his eyes.

"I think this is our clue to leave." Hart cupped her elbow and led her out.

**

Maura yawned as they traveled up the now familiar driveway to the farmhouse. The headlights threw their long beams ahead, lighting the tree-lined road.

"Tired?" He asked, killing the engine.

"A little."

"I was hoping you could stay awake a little longer."

Was he finally going bring up what he had said he wanted to discuss with her? "Oh, I think I'll manage to keep my eyes open, providing you can keep me interested."

"I think what I have to say will hold your attention," Hart answered.

He went around to her side of the car and helped her out. Bright moonlight gilded the spring night with shimmering silver. His arm around her, they walked up the porch steps to the house. Hart open the door and switched on the lights as they moved inside. As he sat beside her, he seemed a little nervous.

"Maura, uh, there's something I'd like to ask you."

She leaned toward him. "Ask away."

"Close your eyes first."

"Hart, I'm not in the mood for practical jokes."

"This is no joke. Will you please close your eyes?"

She obeyed his request as he took her hand and dropped something velvety into it.

"This better not be a bunch of caterpillars." She giggled.

"Would I do that?"

Her heart sped into a wild tattoo as her fingers close around what felt like a small box. "M-May I open my eyes now?"

"Yeah."

She looked down. It was a ring box! Speechless, she just stared at it.

"Open it."

She lifted the lid, stunned by the beauty of the stone. "Oh, Hart!"

"Will you marry me, Maura?"

"So this is why you've been so secretive!"

He nodded.

It should have been the happiest moment of her life, but she felt a sharp jab of disappointment.

He frowned. "What's wrong? This can't come as any surprise?"

"To tell the truth, it does."

He ran his fingers through his hair. "I can't believe I've been this far off base. I thought you knew how I felt about you. What's more, I thought you returned the feeling."

"I do, but that isn't what I mean, Hart."

"Then tell me."

"I, we, don't even know each other. You never talk to me."

"That's crazy, Maura." He stood, looking down at her, his face taut with strain.

"Is it?" She looked up at him. "We talk about superficial things but never about anything important. You know all about my past. What have you told me about yours?"

"I've told you about my divorce."

"Very superficially, yes."

"Look, you lived in this house with me for two solid weeks. You've been here a lot in the last month. What you see is what you get. I'm not complicated. I'm a farmer who has other business interests." He walked to the mantle, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't see how dredging up the past will change anything. What's done is done."

"But it isn't. What ever happened is unfinished business. It haunts you, Hart."

He let out a deep sigh. "I've never talked about it to anyone."

"Why?"

"Because...."

Setting the ring box on the coffee table, Maura stood. "I guess you don't trust me enough. It's okay for me to confide in you, but you won't return the confidence. Sorry, I don't like a one way relationship, Hart. If you can't take the risk to share, you don't belong in one."

Close to tears, she made her way to the kitchen door to get Wags who was waiting in the backyard. She'd collect the dog and go.

Before she could, she heard Hart gaining on her.

Grasping her wrist, he spun her around. "Okay, you win. What do you want to know?"

"Why won't you practice?"

"Because, I'm a lousy doctor. I got out before I hurt someone."

"That's ridiculous, Hart. I've worked with some of the best in Boston, and from what I've seen, you're as good as any of them."

He shook his head. "Do you remember that crack you made about physicians burying their mistakes?"

Maura face became hot. Breaking eye contact, she looked at the floor. Slowly, she nodded.

"Well, you guessed right."

Her head jerked up, and she stared at him, momentarily speechless. "But-but you said you never hurt a patient."

"She wasn't exactly my patient." He walked back into the living room.

"Who was she?" Maura asked, following him.

"My mother."

"Sorry, but I don't quite understand."

"She complained of discomfort in her abdomen. I told her to have Doc check it out. Of course, she didn't. I don't remember her ever having a sick day. She was always healthy. Later, she told me that she thought a few aches and pains were just part of getting old."

"Lots of patients think that," she said.

He started to pace the length of the floor. "I was so wrapped up in my nasty divorce that I didn't follow-up. I should have made the appointment for her with Doc myself or mentioned it to him. Instead, I just pushed the whole rotten business to the back of my mind. In retrospect, I think didn't want to face the possibility that she could be seriously ill. So I poked my head in the sand." He stopped pacing and shook his head. "Anyway, by the time the Doc diagnosed the cancer, it was too late to help her. She died in my arms one year to the day I got my final divorce decree."

She went to him, putting her arms around him. "I'm sorry for your loss, Hart. For a while I felt that way after my mother died. But you have to see that it really wasn't your fault."

"Yes, it was. You weren't a pharmacist when your mom died. There was nothing you could do. I was a practicing physician. If I was so preoccupied with myself that I neglected her, how do I know I won't mess up the next time I face a personal crisis?"

"But you didn't mess up, and I can't believe you would be so irresponsible as to throw away a fine education and a career where you can make a real contribution."

"I can give in other ways, Maura. I've proven that. Besides, why is it so important that I practice medicine? I make a good living. I can provide for you."

Stunned, she stared at him. "Provide for me! I don't need a man to provide for me. I've been taking care of myself for years, and I'm doing a darn good job of it too. A meal ticket is the last thing I need."

"So what is the reason? Do you want the social position that comes with being a doctor's wife?"

"If I remember correctly, I haven't given you an answer, Hart."

"So what's it going to be?"

"Let me get this straight. You want me even though you think I'm after money and social position, but you're willing to put up with that because we're good together in bed."

"Yes or no, Maura. And that's the last time I'm asking."

"Then the answer is no, Hart. I can't marry someone who thinks I'm that low. I want to share my life with a man who respects me. Obviously, all you feel for me is physical attraction. Don't bother to see me out. I know the way."

He stepped in front of her, blocking her way. "Why can't you understand?"

"I'm afraid I do." Tears stabbed behind her eyes, but she blinked them back as she stepped past him. "You think I'm a shameless social climber." She walked into the back yard. "Come on, Wags. We're going home." She paused and turned to look at him. "Maybe you're right to give up your career 'cause you're still so caught up in your own misery, you can't see beyond it to help anyone else."

**

Hart stood on the porch, listening to the Jeep's engine fade as the red taillights grew small and smaller in the darkness.

Well, that was that. It was all over. She'd tossed him aside like yesterday's newspaper. Their relationship was yet another casualty in the series of losses he had suffered over the past three years. By now, he ought to be use to it.

Why couldn't she understand his pain? Instead of showing compassion, she'd treated him like a gutless whiner. How dare she accuse him of being self-centered and preoccupied with his own troubles.

Despite his agony, he had forged ahead and made a new life for himself. Wasn't it better to be a good businessman and farmer instead of a bad doctor?

But Maura thought he was good at his profession. Despite his hurt and anger, he had to admit the vote of confidence pleased him. Still, her perceptions were all wrong. He had been negligent, and his mother was now dead because of it.

Turning, he stomped back into the house, slamming the door behind him. He walked to the liquor cabinet in the dining room and poured himself a glass of scotch, slugging it down.

He would have to forget her and go on, but how when his whole body ached for her? He threw his glass against the soapstone stove. It shattered on the brick hearth, but the outburst did nothing to discharge his frustration or alleviate the wound in his heart.

He returned to the living room, catching sight of the jewelry box. Picking it up, he trudged up the steps to his room. He opened the bureau draw and shoved the velvet container in a back corner. He didn't want to see it again--ever.

**

Two weeks later, Maura stacked the supper dishes into the dishwasher and started it, wishing that Hart had sold her the building. That way the break between them would have been clean, without any reason to see or think about him. Not that she needed a reason, because she thought about him too often. However, if she was really busy, she was able to go a whole hour without reliving the pain of their last encounter.

But that morning, while balancing her checkbook, she saw a canceled rent check, and it triggered memories. As a result, Hart intruded into her thoughts all day long. Likely, that would happen each time she wrote a check.

Furthermore, Maura dreaded the possibility of him coming into the pharmacy. Facing him again would prove so painful, yet she longed for the sight of his face, the sound of his voice, the caress of his hands.

The recollection of his embrace caused a steamy wave of heat to wash over her. Reaching into her pocket for her handkerchief, she dabbed her face and neck.

For a short, precious time, Maura had hoped she'd found someone who had integrity, someone with whom she could share her dreams, her goals, and her life.

A deep sense of loss and grief pervaded her heart. There was no use in dwelling on the subject. Hart believed she was a social climber and a fortune hunter.

Tears threatened, but, thus far, Maura refused to allow herself to cry--and she wouldn't start now.

Wags whined and pranced toward her, the red leash in her mouth.

"All right, girl. Let's go for a walk." Maybe some exercise would help her mood, Maura told herself although she'd been working hard all day, shelving inventory between customers.

Nothing seemed to help her forget Hart. Why did she have to fall in love with him?

Maura leashed Wags, slipped a sweater over her shirt and slacks, and headed down the back stairs and out into the yard.

As they walked along Main Street, the May air felt soft on her face. Daffodils and tulips bloomed in the window boxes outside the shops, and the blossoming maples, lining the street, gave off a sweet, delicious fragrance.

She turned a corner and strolled toward a residential area, admiring the neat yards. The forsythia bushes had exchanged their golden blooms for green leaves and poked their branches through white picket fences. Waxy azaleas burst into blooms of coral, red, and mauve beneath a canopy of pink and white dogwoods. The perfume of lilacs drifted to her on the gentle breeze. A hawthorn, bedecked in clusters of scarlet rosettes, startled her with its glorious array.

Crickets chirped in concert with the laughter of children speeding by on bicycles. A few avid gardeners lingered in their yards, unwilling to leave their flowery bowers even though a chill nipped the air, and twilight rode across the heavens on its swift, gray charger.

This was a setting to share with someone. A lover , she thought wistfully. The beautiful evening only intensified her loneliness. Until that moment, she didn't think that was possible. The splendor of nature seemed to mock her solitary state. After all, it was spring, the time for mating, for love.

Dusk deepened into night. Far above, the evening star winked flirtatiously at the silver crescent of the moon.

Maura turned back and wandered down Main Street, and her heart flipped over as she recognized Hart's truck in front of the general store. Even though it had closed hours ago, he and Abe were probably in the back room, discussing business because construction of the mail-order house was in full swing.

Dreading the possibility of a face-to-face meeting, Maura hurried around to the back of her building. She entered quickly and shut the outside door, mounting the steps as Wags clambered beside her. She slammed the apartment door behind her.

Closing her eyes, she leaned against the wall, trying to focus on something else. But the task proved impossible. And oh, the needing, the longing, the wanting him.

Would he turn to Abe's widowed daughter, Ellen? Maura could tell the woman was attracted to him and would support his business efforts.

Jealousy assailed her. "Stop it, Maura, this isn't getting you anywhere." She walked to the sofa, sinking into it.

In a few months, she would forget all about him. What happened between them was a product of their circumstances. Two healthy adults who had been isolated together for days were bound to mistake physical attraction for something else.

That's nonsense, Maura. You love him and you'll never forget him.

Wags looked up at Maura, tilting her head. Commiseration seemed to shine in the dog's brown eyes.

She bent down, unleashing the animal. "Oh, Wags, what am I going to do?"

**

Exhaustion sapped Hart as he drove over the narrow dirt road connecting his farms. He hadn't rested well in weeks, and he had no appetite. As a result, his clothes hung off of him. In fact, the joy had withered from his soul like the life from a plant that hadn't been watered. He caught sight of himself in the rear view mirror. He looked like total hell. He hadn't shaved for days, and the dark stubble plus the need for a haircut made him look unkempt. He didn't care.

Come to think of it, since Maura severed their love affair, he hadn't cared about anything much. He simply went through the motions all day, trying to keep body and soul together, wondering why he even made the effort. At night he found it hard to sleep for wanting her in his arms. When he finally dozed, she haunted his dreams.

He pulled over to the side and looked at the tractor turning over the soil. A cloud of reddish dust rose behind the vehicle as it crossed the stretch of land. Hart had designated this field for a crop of Timothy alfalfa. What his stock didn't eat, he planned to sell. He intended to sow other fields with wheat so the miller could grind it into the special pancake flour he sold so successfully.

Hart started the engine again and drove through the hills to a little valley where his orchard had bloomed to life. From his vantage point, the blossoms looked like a pale pink haze. If the weather held and the bees did their job, he'd gather a good yield of apples in autumn. He'd sell them to a company that dried and distributed them as health snacks.

The sight of his farms and the anticipation of a generous crop usually filled his heart with joy. Now all his efforts seemed dull and flat.

Maybe in time the pain would ease. But every time he rode into town and drove past the pharmacy, the wound in his heart reopened. Sometimes he found himself visiting Abe with the excuse of checking on the progress the mail-order warehouse. Once there, he stared out the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of Maura working in the pharmacy.

He ached for her all the time and hungered for any piece of information about her. He longed for the sight of her smile, the touch of her hand, the taste of her lips.

Why torture yourself, Hart. Apparently, she didn't give a damn about him. Perhaps it was better that he found out now instead of later. Right! Why was he trying to convince himself he didn't want her? He did--more than he ever wanted anything in his life--even more than he wanted to practice medicine again. There was no help for him.

He had lost both.

Hart picked up his Thermos and gulped a mouthful of the bitter, black coffee he drank to keep him awake during the day. He shuddered and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.

Maura had invaded his home and his heart. There were just too many memories of her at Sugarbush. As much as he tried, he couldn't banish her from his thoughts. She had lived there for less than two weeks, and in that short time he had crazy fallen in love with her. The pain of losing her slashed him like a chain saw.

Several times he got into his truck and headed toward town to talk to her. Each time, he turned around and drove home. Something had to give. He couldn't go on this way. He had to talk to her and make her understand.

**

Emily almost skipped into the pharmacy, making her way to the counter in the back of the store. Handing Maura the prescription, she said, "You've been a very naughty lady, Ms. Egan. I haven't heard from you in too long."

Maura felt her face flame. "Sorry, Emily. I wasn't sure you'd want to hear from me."

"Just because you and my dumb cousin broke up doesn't mean you and I can't be friends."

"Thanks, Emily. Your friendship means a lot to me."

"We miss you, Maura, especially Tim. Besides, our growing family needs you." She smiled conspiratorially.

"You mean--"

"Look at the prescription." She handed the small square of paper to Maura.

Maura took it. "Prenatal vitamins. Oh, Emily, how wonderful!" Maura smiled. "I'll bet Chase is ecstatic."

"He is. I've miscarried twice since Tim was born.

"Gosh, I'm sorry." Maura could only imagine the grief and loss.

"We were devastated both times," Emily remarked. "Right now, we're keeping our fingers crossed, although Doc says, everything looks good so far. He did tell me, in no uncertain terms, I have to take it easy."

Maura felt a twinge of envy. She would love to have a baby. She pictured a chubby-cheek child with cobalt blue eyes and dark hair. He would look just like.... She'd better get her mind on her work before she dispensed the wrong medication and poisoned someone.

"Uh, let me fill this for you, Em."

"Maura, how about lunch Sunday?"

"Only if Hart isn't there."

"Would I do that to you?"

"Yeah, Em. You would. I appreciate your effort, but it's no good. We have differences we can't overcome," Maura said, stepping to the back to fill the prescription.

**

"Look, Emily, Maura's the one who kicked me to the curb." Hart shifted uncomfortably on his sofa in the den. "I never wanted the break-up."

Avoiding the reprimand in her eyes, he stared at the sun streaming through the living window and glinting off his cousin's auburn hair as she sat beside Chase.

Hart felt naked, exposed, and he didn't care for his cousin ambushing him the way she always did, nor did he feel at ease discussing Maura. Besides, he never really felt comfortable talking about his feelings.

He had gotten angry when Maura rejected him. He still got ticked when he thought of it. He didn't want a second rejection. Nevertheless, he had picked up the phone a dozen times since she left, but he always hung up before she answered.

"You've met the only person in two years who interested you, and what did you do?" She pulled a wry face. "You blew it."

"Lay off, Em." Hart stood.

"What? I'm on your side." She rolled her eyes. "I thought you wanted a wife and kids. What are you going to do, wait so long you need to take Viagra to have them?"

Chase guffawed.

"Damn, Emily." Hart walked to the window.

"Okay, you two. Enough on the subject." Chase looked at his watch. "Besides, it's getting late."

"I guess that's my cue to round up Tim." Emily rose and went into the den where Hart had left the little guy playing a video game.

"Hart, why don't you give Maura a call?" He tipped up his beer can and took a swallow.

"Why bother? We don't seem to have anything in common."

"Except a medical background and physical attraction. And don't bother to deny it. I saw the two of you together at the dance. The heat you generated could have lit a barn fire."

"There's no use talking about it, Chase. It's over."

"Sure it is. You don't give a crap about her, right?" Chase smiled wryly.

Hart looked away, uncomfortable.

"Is she involved with someone else?" Chase asked.

"No, but what am I supposed to do? Break into the pharmacy and carry her off?

"Not a good idea unless you want her to hit you with a restraining order."

"Okay. So what do you suggest?"

"How about a more subtle approach? You're at the construction site every day. Go to the pharmacy and buy some aspirins."

"She knows I don't get headaches."

"Then get something for heartburn because yours is still on fire for her."

"Right," Hart answered noncommittally.

Chapter Ten

"Gloria!" Maura stared at her friend as the tall brunette stomped toward the counter. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

"I'm glad to see you too."

"I didn't mean it that way, and you know it." Maura rolled her eyes. "I'm just so surprised to see you."

"Thanks. Your last e-mail about Hart kind of made me think that maybe you needed a friend."

"I didn't mean to worry you, Gloria. So far it's nothing I can't handle."

"Forget it. I've haven't seen you in about two and a half months, and I missed you. Anyway, it's vacation time."

"So you finally decided to take one." Maura approved. Gloria appeared thinner and paler. "But I thought you had that big case coming up."

"I did, but the client died." Gloria leaned on the counter. "Got me to thinking about the meaning of life and that I haven't had much fun lately."

Maura noticed that her friend's upper lip and forehead wore a fine dew of perspiration. "You feeling okay, Gloria?"

"I'm just a little tired. It's a long ride from Boston. Incidentally, I saw Hart when I parked my car. He came over to say, 'Hi.'"

"Did he?" Maura asked, feigning indifference.

"Yeah," Gloria answered. "He went into that big building they're constructing next to that general store. There was a redhead with him."

Maura stared out the front window as Hart and Ellen now exited the new building and walked into the general store.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Gloria said, turning around.

Maura felt that way every time she looked up and saw him at the site.

"Oh-oh," Gloria continued. "I guess that happens a lot. You're going to have to get use to seeing him you know."

Maura felt she'd never become accustomed to seeing Hart with another woman. But she'd have to because resuming their relationship was impossible the way things stood.

In fact, he didn't really know her. Otherwise, he never would have made that terrible assumption about her. To add insult to injury, he said he could provide for her.

"That redhead is pretty, Maura."

Actually, Ellen looked gorgeous, Maura thought with envy. The turquoise dress she wore flattered her ivory skin and flaming hair.

When Maura had first met her, Ellen had worn a loose jumper. Now, the sheath she had on emphasized her curves and exposed her cleavage.

Gloria turned back to Maura. "Who is she?"

"Ellen Moore."

"Is she Hart's new romantic interest?"

"Not that I've heard, although I think she would like to be." Her jealously getting the best of her, Maura said, "Her seduction strategy is pretty obvious."

"The way she looks up at him, you can tell she's got it bad," Gloria added.

"I guess it's bound to happen that he'll find someone."

"Only if you let it, girl." Gloria leveled a hard stare at her.

Feeling miserable about the situation, Maura dropped her gaze and picked at the hangnail on her thumb. "Uh, let me close up and count down the register. Then I'll help you with your bags."

"Yeah, a shower and a change of clothes would feel wonderful."

"I'll grill some steaks, and we can just relax in the back yard. It's cool and shady there."

"You've convinced me."

**

Hart watched from the front of the general store as Maura and

Gloria toted the luggage into the pharmacy. The old pain hit him like a punch in the gut.

Under different circumstances, he would have lent a hand. But the vibes those women gave off told him to keep his distance. Besides, Maura wouldn't even look at him. She made it clear that she didn't even want a casual, friendly relationship.

That was a laugh. There was no way he could ever feel casual toward her. The chemistry between them went off like a blowtorch every time they were together. The feeling did not stop just because they'd had an argument.

**

Wags padding around her ankles, Gloria set down her luggage in the guest bedroom.

"Gloria, you've had a long day. Take your shower before dinner," Maura said, thinking her friend looked more than a little tired.

"I feel guilty letting you do all the cooking." Gloria zipped open a valise.

"No problem," Maura assured her, putting a valise at the foot of the bed. "I'll put potatoes in the steamer and rustle up a salad. The steaks will only take a few minutes on the gas grill."

"Where's the bathroom?" Gloria pulled her bathrobe out of the suitcase.

"The end of the hall," Maura announced, making her way to the kitchen.

"Thanks," Gloria called after her.

Maura put the potatoes in the steamer then headed for the door.

"Stay, Wags," she admonished.

She descended the stairs to the back yard. Opening the shed door, she pulled out the gas grill, feeling grateful for Gloria's company. Still, her old friend always showed up at crucial times in Maura's life. The two of them shared a bond that transcended time and space. Now, Gloria had left her work in Boston to support Maura once again.

As she lit the grill, she heard Wags begin to bark furiously. The dog was probably letting her know she didn't particularly like being left behind.

Maura ran up the steps. After she paid some attention to Wags, she intended to make a salad. She planned to serve low fat ice cream for dessert.

By the time she opened the door, Wags was frantic. The dog kept running into the hall and then scampering back to her.

"Here, girl!" She dropped to her knees, and the animal ran to her. "Calm down, Wags. I'm here now."

But the dog shot into the hall and started scratching on the bathroom door. "It's okay, girl. Gloria is just taking a long shower."

But Wags wouldn't quit.

"Okay." Maura went to the door and knocked. "Gloria?"

She got no answer, and the shower continued to run. Perhaps the running water prevented Gloria from hearing the racket. She diffidently turned the knob, opening the door a crack. "Gloria, are you all right?"

Again hearing no response, she opened the door and stifled a scream as fear gripped her. Through the clear glass door, Maura saw Gloria lying on the shower floor.

Maura sprang forward, trying to keep calm as panic mauled her with a vengeance.

"Oh, no." She cried, tears distorting her vision.

Wiping them away, she jerked open the door and turned off the water. She knelt, putting her hand on Gloria's throat. The rapid, shallow pulse alarmed her. Maura pulled the bath towel from the wall rack and draped it over her friend. Grabbing another one, she folded it, cushioning Gloria's head from the hard tile floor.

Maura ran to the phone and called Doc's number, which she had memorized long ago. His office just down the street, he'd get to Gloria faster than an ambulance.

"Doc is at the hospital working an emergency. Joe West had a heart attack," his wife informed her.

"Thank you, Mrs. Murray." Maura hung up. Without hesitation, she ran to the window, hoping with all her being that Hart's truck was still out front of the general store.

Hope soared as she saw it. She ran down the steps and across the street. The store was closed, but she knew that Hart, Abe, and Ellen were probably in the back room.

"Hart!" She pounded on the door. "Hart!"

The moments until the three of them hurried to the door and Hart swung it open seemed like an eternity.

"Gloria has collapsed," she blurted out. "Please come. Her pulse is so rapid and--"

"Let's go." Hart grabbed her hand, leaving Abe and Ellen.

They hurried to Gloria who was still lying on the floor of the shower. Hart lifted the tall woman and carried her to the bedroom. She moaned as he lay her on the bed.

"I better examine her, Maura."

Giving them privacy, Maura stepped out of the room and leaned against the wall, biting her knuckles. Sobs racked her body, and her emotions were fast hurtling out of control, but she couldn't give in. Hart needed her help. Most of all, her friend needed her, and Maura vowed she would be there for her.

She sniffed and quickly wiped her eyes as she heard his footsteps behind her. She spun around, her gaze fusing with his.

"Maura, she's regained consciousness."

"Do you know what's wrong?"

"I can't be sure, but from the examination and what she told me, it may be an ovarian cyst which ruptured. She said the pain was so strong she passed out. She took quite a bump on the head, but I didn't feel a fracture. They'll check all that out in the hospital."

"Shall I call 911?"

"I'll do it. I want to talk to the doctor in the ER too."

"Hart, will you stay with her?"

Nodding, he reached out and took her hand. "I'll stay with both of you."

The touch of his hand gave Maura the reassurance she so desperately needed.

**

Hart turned off the light above the hospital bed as Gloria slept peacefully.

The gynecologist had confirmed his diagnosis. Gloria had had a huge ovarian cyst, which had ruptured. She confessed she'd ignored the pain for sometime, refusing to give in to it, hoping the discomfort would go away. She was almost as stubborn as Maura.

He glanced at the woman he loved as she sat by her best friend's bed. She looked exhausted.

"Let's go now," he whispered.

Maura looked up at him. "I want to stay. Suppose she wakes up during the night. She'll be all alone in a strange place."
"I don't think that will happen. We sedated her."

"But still...."

"There's nothing you can do here. She's stable now and in very capable hands. The night nursing supervisor is a good friend of mine, and believe me, she runs a tight ship."

"Hart--"

"Look, I’m taking you home, and I don't want any arguments. Now move it. Doctor's orders." He nodded toward the door.

Maura slowly rose from the chair and walked to the door, then stopped and pierced his gaze with her own. "I feel like I'm deserting."

"Gloria will need your help when she's released. Right now the best thing you can do is get some rest."

"Since you put it that way--"

"Come on." He took her arm and led her through the corridor and into the elevator.

They left the hospital and ambled into the parking lot. The floodlights shone down, illuminating their way as they walked to Hart's truck. He wanted to reach out and hold her hand, but he resisted the impulse.

They drove back to town in silence. He killed the engine at the front door of the pharmacy. Getting out of the car, he went around to the other side, helping her out.

"I, uh left Wags in the back yard."

"I better walk you 'round then."

"There's no need."

"Maura, I'm not leaving you alone on the sidewalk at this time of night." He took her arm, and they strolled around to the back.

The dog greeted them with a volley of barking as she stood on her hind legs and pawed the air. Hart bent down and stroked the animal as Maura unlocked the back door and Wags scampered in.

He suppressed the urge to take her in his arms and kiss her.

"Hart?"

Their gazes melted, and his libido zoomed into over-drive. "Yeah?"

"I, uh, just want to say thank you. You'll never know what it meant to me that you helped Gloria."

He longed to tell her that he still loved and needed her. Instead he said, "Forget it. I was just doing my job."

"But it's not your job, is it?"

"It was tonight. You and Gloria have a way of creating these emergencies for me."

She bit her lip and shrugged. "I guess we do. Oh, well, I guess I should let you get to b...I mean home."

"Freudian Slip, Maura." He smiled. "You were going to say bed."

"I was not," she denied adamantly.

But he knew better.

"Besides," she continued, "Freud never wore a slip."

Hart laughed but was disappointed she didn't seem ready to allow him an inroad just yet. "With that I'll say good night. Give me your key, I'll unlock the door."

"I can do it."

He shrugged. "Suit yourself."

Seeing her safely inside, he drove off, wishing she had invited him in for a nightcap.

**

Maura plodded up the steps and headed for the bedroom. She peeled off her clothes, dropping them on the chair. Wags followed, curling up on a rug at the foot of the bed.

Maura fell into bed. Although exhausted, she felt too keyed up to sleep. How quickly things could change in life. One moment, she and Gloria were enjoying a friendly conversation. The next, her best friend lay ill.

Thank God Hart had been close by.

Hart. He'd touched her soul as no one ever had. The emotion ran silent, profound. Under that uncompromisingly virile facade lay a sweet, considerate man. Shame seared heart at how she had treated him.

If medicine wasn't his vocation, then she must accept that. Still, that wasn't the whole issue. Hart had hurt her, insulted her really. Could they move beyond that and come to an understanding?

For that to happen, he must realize that she was not mercenary. She hoped he would gain that insight because when she thought of marriage, she envisioned him as her husband.

But Ellen Moore had now entered into the picture. Abe's daughter had grown up with Hart. To him, she probably represented tradition, and she was a known quantity. They shared interests and goals. The mail-order house was an example.

And Ellen didn't care if he practiced medicine or not. She accepted him as he was. That kind of affirmation was heady stuff. Sooner or later Hart would turn to her and wonder why he hadn't fallen in love with her sooner.

That prospect upset Maura. How would she live in this community and helplessly watch him with another woman?

Well, at least, she and Hart were on civil terms. That was a start.

**

"It was nice of Hart to let us use this place." Seated on an old quilt placed under a stand of shady maples, Gloria reached into the cooler and pulled out a Diet Coke.

Maura looked across the pond. A profusion of white water lilies floated on its smooth surface. The last time she had been here, she and Hart had spent a wonderful afternoon with Timmy. That night they had split up. The sad reverie brought her close to tears.

"Maura?"

She turned to Gloria. "Uh, Hart said he wanted you to have some happy memories of Vermont to counteract your stay in the hospital." Maura bit into a wedge of sweet, juicy watermelon.

"Well, he's doing a great job of helping with my recuperation. Come to think of it, he really does have a wonderful bedside manner. Is he as good in bed?" Gloria smiled wickedly.

"I don't kiss and tell." Remembering his embraces, Maura felt her body go weak with longing.

"You don't have to. I had another gut reaction." She popped the top of the Coke can. "I can tell he's sensational."

"Uh, and speaking of doctors and health, you're going to do your part, Counselor O'Connor. Taking care of your body is your responsibility. From now on, you're going to get a check-up every year. And when something hurts, you're going to have it checked out."

"Maura—"

"Don't start, Gloria. You live near some of the best medical centers in the world, and you have no excuse."

"Okay, I promise." She took a big gulp of her drink.

"The very idea of ignoring pain! That's just not good common sense."

"Neither was driving out in a blizzard."

"Okay, I deserved that, but promise me you'll take care of yourself. I want you for my friend for a long, long time."

"I will if you do the same." Gloria's gray eyes brightened with tears.

Maura nodded mutely. She averted her gaze, biting her lower lip to keep it from trembling.

"There's something else, Maura. I know what happened between you and Hart, but I think you two can work it out. I just feel you're right for each other."

Maura sniffed. Looking up at her friend she smiled. "Another gut warning?"

Gloria nodded, laughing.

"How come you didn't feel one about getting sick on this trip?"

"I did."

"Huh? And you came anyway?"

"I knew I'd recover. Besides, I had to do something to get you and Hart back together. So don't let all my hard work and suffering go for nothing."

"Oh, Gloria, there is no one like you."

"I know."

**

"Are you sure?" Doc sat behind his battered desk in his old office, looking at Hart over the rims of his spectacles.

"As sure as I can be about anything, Doc, if you'll have me back."

"Have you back?" Doc stood and walked over to him, slapping him on the back. "Boy, I've been waiting to hear you say that for two years. So has everyone else in this town."

Hart couldn't suppress a smile. "I know, Doc. I guess I've been a little slow."

"What changed your mind?" He went back to his seat.

"Well, I guess it began...."

"When Maura had her accident," Doc finished for him.

"Yeah. I worked that crisis, and then Cory took sick, and then Gloria. Three incidents in three months and each time, I found that I was the only doctor around."

"Ayuh, the powers that be decided that you were gonna practice whether you wanted to or not," Doc asserted.

"The truth be told, I missed practicing. I love my farms, and the mail-order business so I'll keep them. I'll just hire more staff."

"So you finally realize that you were not responsible for your mother's death," Doc said.

"I'll always feel guilty about not being more attentive to her, Doc, but refusing to help others would be the last thing she would want me to do. I realize that now. I just thought I wasn't competent, but after working these emergencies, I know I am. I'll just be a more careful clinician and listen to my patients."

"Well, Ella will be thrilled when she hears." Doc chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "She says you're better looking than I am."

"She still bringing that great cake and chicken salad every Friday for lunch?" Hart asked.

Doc nodded. "I told her she had me spoiled, and if she stopped I'd have to fire her."

"Well, I better get out of here," Hart said, standing. "I'm sure you've got a full schedule of patients to see this afternoon."

"Yeah, Joe West is due for his follow up." Doc shook his head as he walked back behind the desk. "If that heart attack didn't scare him into losing weight and controlling his cholesterol, I don't know what I'm going to do."

"See you, Doc." Hart walked to the door.

"Not so fast."

"What?" He turned.

"When are you starting back, boy? I'm mighty tired of playing the Lone Ranger."

"How about a week from today?"

"Yesterday would have suited me better, but I guess if I waited this long, another week won't matter."

**

Gloria safely back in Boston, Maura sat on the couch, watching an old romance movie she had rented from the little video store. Immersed in her loneliness, she hardly paid attention.

So everyone in town had known Hart was back in practice except her. Apparently, he had not yet gotten the opportunity to put out his shingle next to Doc's. Maura heard the news from a customer who had come into the pharmacy to get a prescription filled. She had almost fallen over in shock as she stared at the signature.

"Is there a question about the medication?" the older woman had asked. "You can call him. He's probably still in the office."

"Uh, no. It's quite clear." The prescription wasn't the usually unintelligible scrawl that required the skills of a cryptologist to decipher. Hart had written the instructions in a clear, steady hand. And during the course of the day, she had filled several more of his orders.

Why hadn't he informed her? She was part of the town's medical community. She bet Ellen Moore had known. The slight hurt even more because Hart knew that Maura had wanted and encouraged him to resume his practice.

If she had hoped for a reconciliation, his snub had destroyed that dream. Picking up the remote, Maura switched off the movie, unable to bear the poignant love scene when she felt so empty inside. Next time, she planned to rent a comedy.

Wags trailing at her heels, she went to her computer, e-mailing the news to Gloria. What would her friend think about that?

She looked down at the dog. "I sure can pick them, can't I, Wags." Maybe she should change her style. She always fell for the wealthy, Ivy League types--men that were way out of her class--and they inevitably let her know it.

Well, there was no use moping around. She had her pharmacy. What was the next goal in life?

"How would you like a home, Wags?" Maura visualized a neat Cape Cod with a stone wall surrounding the yard like a pair of loving arms. She pictured trellises heavy with rambling roses, wisteria, and clematis. A birdbath would add a nice touch in the center of the back yard with lots of birdfeeders hanging from tree branches. She would plant flowers to attract butterflies. She wanted a water garden, or perhaps would buy a place with a pond like...Hart's.

Her mind's eye conjured up his image. Stop it, Maura, one part of her minded chided. You have no one to blame but yourself. You're the one who walked out on the man after he had saved your life and asked you to marry him.

But he insulted me, the other part said.

You also insulted him and you weren't exactly sympathetic when he finally took you into his confidence. Furthermore, he helped Gloria and never charged her a penny for service when he could have just called 911.

Though alone, Maura felt her face burn with shame. No wonder he had kept his distance. She had behaved abominably toward him. She tried to suppress her tears, but the flood tide refused to be held back. She cried until her eyes stung and her throat ached.

She dragged herself to the bathroom, splashing cold water on her hot face.

The phone rang and Maura hurried into the bedroom to answer it. "Hello?"

"Your voice sounds funny," Gloria said at the other end. "Have you been crying?"

"Uh...."

"Don't fudge. I know you too well."

"Okay. I won't." Maura sat on the bed. "Why didn't you just e-mail me back?"

"Cause your message was so depressing, I felt I needed to talk to you."

"So talk."

"I think it's time to kick butt."

Maura knew Gloria wasn't kidding. She steeled herself for the forthcoming lecture.

"You really knocked me out of my tree, girl. And for the first time, I've got to say I'm really disappointed in you, Maura."

"How can you—"

"All your life, you've been a fighter, but now you've given up and let this thing with Hart just defeat you. I've never seen you do that with anything that you've wanted."

"So why don't you tell me how you really feel, Gloria?"

"Sarcasm. Good. Now I know you're on the mend."

"Sarcasm? You're the one with the biggest mouth in New England."

"Back to the issue. You know what you have to do, Maura."

"I'm not good at eating crow. I find it very tough."

"So put some tenderizer on it."

Maura had to smile. "I'll do my best."

"Go, girl."

**

Astride Samson's back, Hart urged the Belgian to a trot on the wooded trail. The long rays of the late afternoon sun filtered through the big maples like long shafts of gold as he approached the pond behind the dairy.

Mallards swam among the lily pads, and a robin chirped a song to the sky. In the distance, Hart saw some of the crewman rounding up the Jerseys for the evening milking.

His farms, his business ventures, and his practice all gave him satisfaction. In fact, he had everything--except the one thing he wanted most.

He thought that when he'd resumed his practice, Maura would have called him to say she was glad. How he had wanted--no--needed that affirmation from her. But she had remained aloof.

Hart had hoped she would have called to ask about a prescription, but the occasion never presented itself. He supposed he could go into the pharmacy as Chase had suggested. That would be a perfectly normal thing to do. After all, they lived and worked in the same town.

Somehow, that seemed like a lame excuse. But he was at the desperate stage. Even the incident with Gloria had only gotten them to the superficially friendly stage.

Friendly? What was he thinking about? He couldn't be friendly with her. He wanted a man-woman relationship with her or nothing.

If he wanted the relationship, he was going to have to make the first move. That stubborn woman wasn't going to budge. He'd never seen anyone with such determination. But that accounted for the way she had beaten all the odds and rose above the tough hand life had dealt her.

He admired her and what she had achieved more than he could say. She'd succeeded where others would have never even tried. He had told her that, but she hadn't listened.

But neither had he when she told him that he was a good doctor. Instead, he had accused her of wanting social position and being a social climber. What a fool he had been! No wonder she walked out on him.

There wasn't much he could do if she didn't want to see him again, but he could own up to his mistakes and apologize. After all, she forced him to face his fears and go beyond them. If she hadn't, he wouldn't be practicing today.

Hart turned the Belgian and urged it to a canter. He needed to get home quickly. He had a terrible mistake to rectify.

**

Maura looked up from the cash register, and her heart skipped a beat. Hart was walking up the aisle to see her after all these weeks.

Wags zipped around the counter and bounded forward to meet him, barking enthusiastically. He bent to pet her. "Hey there, girl. How are you?"

Wags licked his cheek before he stood. Smiling, he caught Maura's eye and headed straight to the counter.

Oh, what his eyes did to her.

"Hi." His smile became a grin

"Hello." She answered.

"I thought I'd take your advice and come by and stock my medicine cabinet." He held out a piece of paper, and his hand brushed her hand as she took it.

A warm sensation tingled through every cell of her body, and Maura felt her cheeks getting hot. She scanned the list, hoping the hungry longing she was not reflected in her eyes.

She read the list. Peroxide, alcohol wipes, Bandaids, antibiotic cream, and.... "Aspirins? I thought you didn't get headaches."

"I don't. They're for guests. There's a beautiful one in particular who falls into ponds. And another one, almost as good looking, who faints in the shower."

She had to smile. "You have careless friends."

"Are they?" He leaned forward and put his hand over hers.

Her body quivered with desire. "Uh, careless?"

"No," he said. "Are they still my friends?"
She looked down at their joined hands. Hart was making the first move. That had to be difficult for him. Deeply moved, she looked up, holding his gaze. The question in his eyes melted her pride, hurt, and anger.

"Friends respect one another," she whispered.

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "I think I respect this friend more than I realized. I admire her too. She has guts and character."

Her heart filling with emotion, she groped for the right thing to say, but the words wouldn't come. He was asking for another chance without actually saying the words. Apparently, he had trouble apologizing too, but at least he was making the effort.

"Hart, we have to talk. There are a lot of things to work out." And Ellen Moore was one of them.

"I know." He looked around. "But right now, you've got a store full of customers."

He was right. "When?"

"That's up to you, Maura. All in your own good time."

"Okay." She nodded. "Uh, let me help you find these things."

"Sure." He released her hand.

She missed his touch. Without it the world seemed colder, gloomier. She came from behind the counter and quickly picked up some of the items while he retrieved the others. They returned to the cash register, and he reached in his pocket.

"Your money is no good here, Doc. This is on the house."

"Thanks, Maura."

"Don't mention it. Let's just call it professional courtesy since you've rejoined the medical profession." She handed him the bag. "Why didn't you tell me, Hart? Why did I have to find out from a customer."

"I wanted to. I just wasn't sure you would care."

"Wouldn't care!"

A customer looked up at her in surprise.

Maura lowered her voice and stared at the countertop. "Sorry." She couldn't really blame him for that assumption. After all, she'd been pretty cool to him even after all he'd done for Gloria.

"I'd better go before you get ticked at me again."

"Wait, Hart. I'm not ticked. In fact, I'm really glad you came by."

"So am I. Will I see you again?"

The question in his eyes really got to her.

"Yes. You will, and...."

"And what?"

"Hart, would you consider doing a lecture for my diabetes education group one Thursday night? I'd like you to talk about the complications of the disease like, uh, detached retinas and neuropathies. You know."

"Be glad to. Just let me know which Thursday." Smiling, he turned and left.

Funny how just a smile from him could send her into a spin.

Don't be too happy, Maura. You still don't know how Ellen Moore fits into the picture.

**

"Maura!" Cory smiled. "Come in. It's so good to see you in this kitchen again. You look like you belong here, dear."

"Thanks, Cory." Maura was glad to be back in the big farmhouse kitchen again too. She felt so at home there--a feeling she hadn't experienced anywhere else for a long time--not even in her apartment.

"I expect Hart back any minute now from his ride. He'll be so surprised."

"I hope so." Maura set the picnic basket and cake carrier down on the big oak table. "Ben even parked my car in the garage so Hart wouldn't see it when he came home."

"Don't worry dear. He's forgotten it's his birthday. He usually mentions it about a week ahead, but he's been so busy lately."

"I'm glad you told me. Better hide this cake." She handed it to Cory who put it in the pie keep.

Ben walked in. "It's out of sight, Maura."

"Thanks, Ben."

"Think nothing of it. I hope our little charade works. Cory and I just love playin' tricks on Hart." Ben laughed. "That boy is smart, but sometimes I think he can be mighty dense." He pointed to his gray head. "You two are just right for one another. I could tell immediately."

Cory smiled. "Incidentally, the dinin' room table is all set. I used the best china and silver, just like when Hart's mother was alive. I even put on the linen tablecloth."

Maura peeped into the room. The sun of the long summer day streamed through the dining room window and sparkled off the crystal glasses. The refracted light reflected onto the walls turning the room into a jewel box of rainbow colors.

Cory's eyes sparkled as she smiled. "I wish the weather was cooler so you could light the fireplace. A glowin' hearth is so romantic."

"If our plan is going to work, we'd better go, sweetheart," Ben said.

"I'm ready," Cory answered.

Ben winked at Maura as he ushered his wife out the door.

Alone, Maura's nerve began to waver. Suppose Hart was involved with Ellen Moore and remained unresponsive to her overtures? Well, then you'll apologize and leave . Nothing would be lost because she didn't have anything now, and at least her conscience would be clear.

But she did not want to continue this way. At work, with his office just a few doors down from the pharmacy, she lived in dread of seeing him one moment and in fear she wouldn't the next.

Her stomach felt like it had been put through a food processor, and her mouth was so dry her tongue was sticking to her palate.

Maura reached into the cabinets and retrieved a glass, filling it with ice water from the tap on the refrigerator door. She took a big gulp and shivered as the icy liquid trailed a frigid path down her gullet.

She put the contents of the picnic basket in the oven to keep them warm until Hart came home--if he came home. Suppose he had decided to ride into town to see Abe Scott and Ellen. Oh! She and Cory hadn't thought about that.

Suddenly, the door opened and Maura started.

Chapter Eleven

"Maura." Hart couldn't believe she was standing in his kitchen, just like in the old days.

"Happy b-birthday, Hart."

"Thanks. How did...." He smiled. "Oh, Cory must have told you, the old conspirator. I passed her and Ben on their way home. They didn't say you were here."

She nodded, and her smile made his heart break into a gallop. Her yellow sundress showcased her curves to perfection. He walked toward her. It always amazed him that the closer he came to her, the more beautiful she looked.

"Will you stay for dinner, Maura? Cory always makes more than enough."

"She didn't cook."

"But the oven is on. I feel the heat."

"I didn't say there was no food." Her gorgeous eyes sparkled with mischief. "I just said Cory didn't cook.

"I give up, Maura. What's your game?"

"I told Cory I'd make supper for us both. There's even a birthday cake."

"Did you make that killer devil's food cake again? Tim is still talking about it."

"With my own little hands." She held them up and wiggled her fingers.

"When we first met, I never thought you'd be the type who would like to cook."

"There's a lot about me that will surprise and maybe even shock you." She sauntered to him.

He was looking forward to finding that out. "What did you fix?" "Cory gave me her recipe for lobster casserole, green beans almondine, double baked potatoes, maple glazed carrots, and a green salad."

"I can hardly wait."

"You don't have to."

"Cory set the table. All we have to do is dig in."

"But I've just had a long ride, and I smell like the barn. I want to shower." He also needed a shave, he thought, stroking the stubble on his chin.

"Suit yourself, Hart. I'll pour the wine."

**

Twenty minutes later, Hart helped Maura into her seat. She passed the food to him while he feasted his gaze on her. She seemed to have gained a little weight in all the right places, and as she leaned toward him, he viewed the top of her white breasts.

Hart remembered how they felt beneath his touch, and how she tasted. He wanted to savor her again.

She met his gaze. "You're awfully quiet. What are you thinking about?"

"Uh...I was wondering if you'd gained a pound or two."

She looked at him, crestfallen. "Do you think I need to lose weight?"

"I wouldn't recommended it."

"Is that the doctor speaking?"

"Not really." He shook his head. "Haven't you heard? Men like soft curves?"

She blushed and broke eye contact.

Oh, jeeze! He had better slow down. They'd been apart for so long, he found it hard to contain his feelings for her.

She picked up a piece of bread, buttering it as he put his napkin over his lap and picked up his fork. Maura had gone through a lot of trouble, and he was starved, in more ways than one.

The lobster casserole exploded with succulent flavor on his tongue, and he ate slowly. An uncomfortable silence descended on them like a steady, cold rain as they finished the meal.

"You seem preoccupied, Maura."

She looked up from her plate. The worried look in her eyes reminded him of a startled doe. It sucked the breath from his lungs.

"Hart, I...."

His meal consumed, he crossed his cutlery across his plate. "I'm listening, Maura." Being so close to her and not touching her was agony.

She stood abruptly. "Excuse me." She hurried away, picking up her purse.

He jumped up and followed her through the living room. "You're not going?" The thought made him panic. She just couldn't leave him again with nothing settled between them. He wouldn't allow it. They would iron out their differences if he had to hog tie her to a chair.

"N-No," she answered, and rushed into the bathroom, closing the door."

**

Ashamed, Maura grabbed the vanity, trying to hold back her tears. She had always found apologizing a humiliating experience. Losing her battle with the tears, she vowed to tell Hart she was sorry.

After a few moments, she forced her wayward emotions under control, but glancing up, her reflection in the vanity mirror disgusted her. Her eyes were irritated as was the tip of her nose.

Maura splashed cold water on her face then used the eye drops in the first aid kit in her purse to soothe her burning eyes. A fresh application of lipstick improved her mouth, and a few strokes of a brush did wonders for her hair.

Now stop sniveling and get it over with.

Scalp prickling with apprehension, she left the bathroom, finding him sitting on the couch in the living room. There was no postponing the confrontation. They must talk now.

"Are you okay?" he asked, concern on his face as he stood.

She nodded.

"You scared me." He walked toward her.

"No emergency this time, doctor."

"Good. I was looking forward to a nice, quiet birthday."

"You had forgotten it was your birthday, and you know it."

He smiled sheepishly. "You're right."

All right, Maura, enough small talk. Do it now!

"Hart," she said, her voice sounding like a squeak. She cleared her throat. "Hart, I need...we need...oh darn! I'm making a mess of this."

He stood and took her hand. "It's okay, Maura. You're being here tells me a lot. It's not easy--"

She looked up at him. "No, it's not, but things that are worthwhile usually aren't, and I've got to do this. I've got to say that I'm s-sorry, Hart, for being such an unsympathetic shrew. I mean you spilled your guts to me, and all I could do was lash out at you for giving up your practice." Tears welled again. "And after...and after you had asked me to--"

"Sshhh." He pulled her into his arms. "I did my share of being insensitive. I called the gutsiest, most independent person I ever met a fortune hunter. How's that for dumb? But I'd been so hurt before. I was scared, baby, of so many things. But you said one thing that really made me think."

Stunned, she tilted her chin and looked up at him. "I did? What did I say?"

"You said that I was so wrapped up in my own misery that I couldn't see beyond it."

"Oh, Hart! That was such a nasty thing to say."

"It was true. Can you forgive me?"

She sniffed. "If you can forgive me."

He smiled, and his eyes lit up. "I did that a long time ago."

"But I was so mean to you."

"I needed my butt kicked for me to understand."

She laughed. "So you're telling me that you sit on your brains?"

He burst out laughing. "Not exactly. But seriously, Maura, you forced me to practice when I was scared. You gave me back my confidence."

"But if you don't want to practice, Hart, I'll understand. I just want you to be happy. I'll accept you for what you are and what you want to be."

He drew back, searching her eyes. "Would you really?"

"Yes." She shrugged. "It's your life. You have the right to lead it in a way that makes you happy."

"But I want to practice. I always did really. I just thought I was a lousy doctor."

"You're a wonderful doctor."

"But I want to do all this other stuff too."

"That's terrific." How easy it would be to reach up and kiss him. She longed to do just that. Instead, she stepped away and walked to the open window.

Clouds were fast forming, and the sky held the threat of rain. She could already smell it on the wind billowing the curtains.

Maura turned, facing him. "Hart, what about Ellen Moore?"

He frowned. "What about her?"

"You've been seeing her."

"Only about business."

"But she--"

He strode to her and put his big, warm hands on her shoulders. "I've been up front with her about that from the very beginning. She knows I'm interested in you, only you."

Her chin began to tremble, and the touch of his hands fueled the unfulfilled need that began to burgeon within her.

"You're the only woman I want, Maura." He drew her into his arms, and his lips crushed hers, making her breathless.

Her body reacted with a longing born of weeks of abstinence. She parted her lips and leaned into him. Groaning, he deepened the kiss, his tongue dancing with hers, making her ache harder for him.

Between kisses he urged her to the sofa and whispered, "I've wanted to do this for weeks."

"So have I," she gasped out.

"If you hadn't come here today, I was going to charge into the pharmacy and forcibly carry you out of there," he whispered, nibbling her earlobe.

"I wish you had. I'm not good at making the first move or the second for that matter."

"That's too bad. I like an assertive woman in my bed."

She closed her eyes, clinging to him, nuzzling his neck. "I'll learn to be now."

"You smell of lilacs," he murmured, unzipping her dress.

Relieved of it, she stood before him in her bra, panties, and shoes.

Hart dropped soft kisses down her neck and into the valley between the swell of her breasts while she unsnapped his jeans. His fingers working deftly, he unhooked her bra, pulling down the shoulder straps and allowing it to drop to the floor.

She moaned as she fumbled with the zipper of his jeans, but finally succeeded with her frantic endeavor.

He let them slip to his ankles as she unbuttoned his shirt and tugged it from him. It fluttered to the floor like a sail in full wind as her palms swept across his hard chest to his shoulders.

Breaking away, Hart slipped her panties down in one quick tug. Stepping out of her shoes and heap of clothing, she stood naked but felt completely unselfconscious. Somehow, it seemed so natural to be this way with him.

Discarding the rest of his clothes, he feasted on her lips as the hair on his chest wreaked havoc with her sensitive breasts.

When she didn't think she could take any more, he settled her on the sofa. The next moment, he nestled himself between her legs, possessing her mouth with a languorous kiss.

"This is where I want to be, Maura and where I want you to be forever." This time he kissed her voraciously, his tongue exploring the jagged edges of her teeth. He adored her neck with feathery kisses. He worked his way toward her breasts, and the gentle drag of his cheek rubbed against her sensitive flesh, causing a sensation of shock waves to wash over her.

"Oh, do that again," she pleaded.

"With pleasure." He complied then caught her erect nipple in his mouth, sucking softly. Suddenly, he pulled away.

"No," she protested, "don't stop."

"Maura, there's one more thing I have to say."

"Now?" Her voice sounded like a strangled squawk even to her.

"Yes. I've waited too long to say it."

"Tell me then," she moaned, her body a hotbed of longing. "But I warn you, I can't take much more of this." She closed her eyes and groaned.

"Actually, there are three things."

Her eyes popped open. "Hart, do you want me to lose my mind?" She reached up and tried to tug him to her.

"No." He resisted her effort. "Not until I tell you that...I love you, Maura." He pulled her to him and whispered close to her ear. "I've think I've loved you from the very beginning."

Her arms tightened around him. "Oh, Hart. I love you too, more than I can say. I was miserable without you, but tell me the rest later. I need you now!" He reached for his trousers and fished into his pocket, pulling out a condom.

Maura took it from him. Opening it slowly, she rolled it down the length of his surging erection, taking her time, increasing the excitement as she lovingly caressed the full length of his flesh inch by inch.

He groaned from deep in his throat, and a shiver of satisfaction thrummed through her, knowing that she pleased him.

Finally, he rose over her, filling her body, her soul, her heart with the vigor of his maleness. Each vital thrust brought them closer to the emotional summit, the physical completion, and exquisite sense of oneness and togetherness.

Maura felt her body reaching toward fulfillment. Wrapping her legs and arms tightly around him, she rocked her hips frantically, meeting his every plunge. Her whole being strove, tense with excitement. Suddenly, her body throbbed with an ecstatic climax as heat radiated from her core to the tips of her fingers and toes.

Seconds later he cried, "Maura," and she felt the powerful muscles of his back bunch under her touch as he shuddered.

Sometime later, she opened her eyes to meet his gaze.

"You're a dream come true, Maura."

"So are you." She caressed the slope of his jaw, and he kissed the tip of her nose.

"Don't go to sleep on me yet." He sat up. "We still have some unfinished business. Remember?"

"What is it?"

"Don't go away."

"Not in your life!"

He stood and headed to the bathroom and then up the stairs. Returning, he knelt by her side. "Maura, will you marry me?" He opened the box and gave it to her.

She sat up, tears in her eyes. Opening the box, she gazed down at the emerald surrounded by diamonds. "Oh, Hart."

"I know it's tough to be a doctor's wife, but I promise, I'll make time for you."

"I'm not worried about that. I have a demanding job too."

"Well, then?"

"Can I say anything but yes?"

"Maybe, because there's one more thing."

"What?"

"Kids. I'd like to have a family soon."

She'd always wanted children. Now, she had no reason to wait. Maura smiled. "So would I. Wags needs some children to keep her company."

"No long engagement," he said, slipping the ring on her finger. "I've waited too long. I want you here in our home every night."

"And this is where I want to be, Hart."

"Do you like the ring?"

"It's the most beautiful stone I've ever seen."

"Its green fire reminds me of your eyes."

"You're the one who lights the fire." She laughed.

"Good, cause I need some more warming. It's been a long, cold spell," he said as he snuggled near her again.

Epilogue

Maura removed the apple pie from the oven and placed it in the antique pie keep Hart had purchased for her birthday. Her mouth watered, and she breathed in the delicious scent of the fruity dessert.

"Mama," her two-year-old son, Alex, called from the mudroom. Holding Cory's hand, he toddled toward her.

Blue eyes gleaming, dark hair sticking out from under his knitted cap, he was the image of his father. She smiled as her child, his blue snowsuit sprinkled with snowflakes, grabbed her hand and pulled her.

"Mama!"

"He wants to show you the snowman we built," Cory explained.

"Just give me a minute, honey." Maura bent and kissed his rosy cheek. Scooping him up, she went to the back door and looked out the glass panel at the creation of snow and old clothes. "Oh, it's wonderful, Alex." Putting him down, she took her coat and hat from the wall peg and walked back into the kitchen.

"I've got a batch of cookies made for him down at my house," Cory said. "Ben is so excited about keepin' him tonight, you'd think he was the child."

Maura laughed. "I can't tell you how grateful I am that you two are going to baby-sit." "Oh, we enjoy it," Cory answered. "Besides, you and that husband of yours haven't had a night off together in a long spell."

"Doc insisted on covering this weekend." Maura smiled. "He said Hart's been working too hard."

"He has." Cory looked out the window.

"Is Hart ready for us?" Maura asked.

"Yes, he's finished hitching the team."

"Fine." Maura slipped on her coat and hat as Alex bent to pet Wags.

"From the looks of it, we're in for a full-blown Nor'easter," Cory commented.

"I don't care." Maura giggled. "They're usually quite lucky for me. Every time we have one something good happens."

"It was that big one we had four years ago that brought you here," Cory answered.

"Right, and it changed my whole life."

"And Hart's too." Cory smiled.

"Come on Alex," Maura said, taking his hand. "Guard the manor, Wags."

The beagle curled up in the basket by the stove, put a paw over her muzzle, and closed her eyes.

"Some watch dog." Cory chuckled.

They exited, and Maura smiled lovingly at her husband who waited by the sleigh. He helped Alex and Cory into the back seat, covering them with a big quilt. Then he aided Maura into the front and slid in next to her.

He flicked the reins, and they all slid off to the bungalow. The bells on the harness jingled merrily as Samson and Hercules plodded through the fluffy, new-fallen snow.

They soon arrived, and amid cheerful good-byes, Hart and Maura dropped off Cory and their son and rode away.

"What's on your mind, Maura?"

She cuddled next to him, leaning her head on his shoulder. "What makes you say that?"

"Well, usually you like to have Alex around unless you want to talk to me about something special."

"You know me too well. Pretty soon I won't be able to surprise you anymore."

"I wouldn't say that." He chuckled.

"Hart, let's drive to our special place."

He gave her a quizzical look. "Okay."

He did and urged the horses to a stop behind a stand of pines where the trees sheltered them from the wind sweeping across the frozen stock pond.

As he secured the brakes, Hart glanced at her. "Are you gonna tell me now, or do I have to wait until we get home?"

"I guess now is as good a time as any. Hart, I need your cooperation in another venture."

"What, down at the pharmacy?"

"No, right here."

"You know you always have my support, honey."

"Good, 'cause this project is going to need a great deal of hard work and diligence."

"Maura, stop evading the issue. What do you want?"

"Another baby."

"Oh, is that all? Delighted to oblige, ma'am," he said, reaching for her.