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Or maybe it had been Kevin. She’d almost forgotten about him. They’d met on the Fourth of July, having struck up a conversation while they were both in line at the Fireman’s Picnic—a charity barbecue for the children’s wing of the hospital. He’d asked for her number and he’d even called a few times after that, trying to set up a date, but they’d never actually made it to that next step.

Her life really was pathetic.

Spending time with Amy and Ben, she sometimes found herself wondering if she would ever find that once-in-a-lifetime kind of love that her friend shared with her husband. The kind of love that she’d once believed she shared with the man she’d planned to marry.

Avery had met Wyatt Travers at med school, when she was in her first year and he was in his third. Even then, she’d had reasons for not wanting to get involved with a doctor, but he’d swept her off her feet. Two years after they met, he put an engagement ring on her finger, and six months later, they moved in together.

Their lives were undeniably busy and they were often going in opposite directions, but whenever they had time just to be together, they would talk about their plans for the future, where they would set up a medical practice together, when they would start a family and how many children they would have.

Then he’d decided to go to Haiti as part of an emergency medical response team. Avery had wanted to go with him, but she was just finishing up her residency, so Wyatt went alone. He was gone for six months and when he finally came back, it was to tell her that he’d fallen in love with someone else. When Avery reminded him that he was supposed to be in love with her and that their wedding was scheduled for the following summer, he admitted that he hadn’t just fallen in love with Stasia—he’d married her.

Avery had immediately packed up and moved out of their apartment, because it seemed a little awkward to continue to live with her former fiancé and his new wife. She’d crashed with a friend for a few weeks until she figured out what she wanted to do with her life now.

It had taken her a long time to get over Wyatt’s betrayal. He’d argued that she couldn’t blame him for falling in love with someone else, but she could and she did. If he’d really loved her, he wouldn’t have fallen in love with Stasia—and since he’d fallen in love with Stasia, it proved that he’d never really loved
her
.

Either way, what it meant for Avery was that there wasn’t going to be a joint medical practice or a wedding in August or a baby born two and a half years after that. Not for her, anyway. Wyatt, on the other hand, had accelerated the timeline he and Avery had mapped out for their life together, becoming a father five months after his return from Haiti.

That was when Avery realized she needed to make some changes, and when her brother, Ryder, was offered a contract to do a cable television show, she decided to go with him to Charisma. She was immediately charmed by the small town and grateful that it was far enough from Boston that she wouldn’t worry about running into Wyatt or Stasia at the grocery store. Because as unlikely as that might seem in the city, it was a risk she didn’t want to take.

She threw herself into her career and focused on proving herself to the staff at Mercy Hospital. She’d succeeded in building an impeccable reputation, and she’d also made some really good friends, including Amy Seabrook. She even went out on the occasional date, but she hadn’t fallen in love again.

And when she went home at the end of the day, it was always to an empty apartment. She tried to convince herself that she liked it that way—that she was glad she didn’t have to worry about anyone leaving wet towels in the bathroom or dirty socks on the floor; that she appreciated the freedom of choosing whether she wanted to listen to music or watch TV or simply enjoy the quiet solitude.

But deep in her heart, she couldn’t deny the truth: she was alone and she was lonely. She wanted a partner with whom to share her life and build a family, but she was growing increasingly skeptical about either of those things ever happening for her.

In the past six months, she’d attended three bridal showers, four baby showers and two first-birthday parties. All of her friends and contemporaries were at the point in their lives where they were getting married and having babies, and she was sincerely happy for them. But she was a little envious, too.

She was thirty-two years old and her life was so far off track she couldn’t see the track anymore. She was so desperate for physical contact with a man that she’d turned to Justin Garrett.

Not that he ever bragged about his conquests—he didn’t need to. The women he bedded were only too happy to add their names to the extensive and ever-growing list of those who had experienced nirvana between his sheets.

Now Avery was one of them—one of the nameless, faceless masses who could say that she’d slept with Dr. Romeo. Except that she hadn’t actually slept with him; she hadn’t even been horizontal with him. No, she’d been so willing and eager, she’d gotten naked with him in a supply closet. Or mostly naked, anyway.

She’d just wanted to feel as if she wasn’t completely alone for a few minutes. And while it was true that he’d helped her feel not just connected and desired but incredibly good, now that she was home again she had to face the truth: those stolen moments in the closet didn’t change anything.

She was still alone.

But at least there was no one around to see the tears that slid down her cheeks.

Chapter Three

W
ellbrook Medical Center was a privately funded clinic that provided medical services primarily to unwed mothers and their children. One of Avery’s jobs at the clinic was to talk to young women about the importance of safe sex—reminding them to protect themselves not just against unwanted pregnancies but sexually transmitted diseases. For those who missed coming in for that talk, the clinic also offered the morning-after pill, testing for pregnancy and STDs, and prenatal care.

Avery was making notes in a patient’s file when Amy set a mug of coffee on her desk. She glanced up. “Did you say something?”

“I said you seem a little preoccupied today.”

“Sorry—I was just wondering how Callie’s sister and her baby are doing. I think I’ll stop by the hospital to check on them when I’m finished here.”

“
If
we ever finish here,” Amy noted.

“Brenna and Tess are coming in at two,” she reminded her friend.

Amy lifted a hand to cover a yawn. “Why does two seem so far away?”

“Maybe because you had such a good time last night,” Avery teased.

Her friend smiled. “What time did you escape from the hospital?”

“It wasn’t long after midnight.”

“It didn’t take you that long to deliver a baby.”

Avery shook her head. “No, but the ER was crazy, so I stuck around for a while to help out, which is how I ended up delivering Callie’s sister’s baby, too.”

“You missed a great party,” Amy told her.

“I’m sure I did,” she acknowledged.

Her friend sighed. “You could at least sound a little disappointed—I really think you would have liked Nolan.”

“You say that about every one of Ben’s friends that you try to set me up with.”

“And I remain optimistic that, one of these days, you’ll actually go out with one of them.”

“I’m focusing on my career right now.”

“I get that, but your focus shouldn’t be to the exclusion of all else.”

“It’s not.”

“When was the last time you were on a date?” Amy asked, then she shook her head. “No—forget that question. When was the last time you had sex?”

Last night
.

Not that she was going to admit as much to her friend. Of course, even if she did tell Amy the truth, it was unlikely her friend would believe it. Because Avery Wallace didn’t have casual sex, and she definitely didn’t succumb to the obvious charms of sexy doctors like Justin Garrett.

“Why is it that everyone wants to talk about sex today?” she countered, in an effort to divert her friend’s attention.

“Because a lot of people got a little crazy and a little careless last night,” Amy admitted. “I don’t understand it—we give out condoms for free at the front desk. Why aren’t people using them?”

“Don’t you remember what it was like to be a teenager? All of the emotions and the hormones?”

“I remember the heady thrill of first love and the exciting rush of sexual desire,” Amy acknowledged. “But I was never so overcome by lust—or so intoxicated—that I would have had sex without a condom.”

“If everyone was as smart as you, we wouldn’t have patients in the waiting room,” Avery countered.

“And since we do, I guess we’d better get back to work.”

So they did, and a steady stream of patients kept them both busy until Brenna and Tess arrived shortly before two. Avery was almost disappointed when their colleagues showed up, because now she would have time to think about the hard truths her earlier conversation with Amy had forced her to acknowledge.

Most notably that it wasn’t only teenagers who made impulsive and stupid decisions about sex—otherwise responsible and intelligent adults could sometimes be just as impulsive and stupid. As she and Justin had proved last night.

* * *

Justin often felt as if he spent more time at the hospital than he did in his own apartment, which made him question the amount of rent he paid every month for his apartment overlooking Memorial Park. For the past few years, his parents had been urging him to buy a house—“an investment in real estate”—but Justin didn’t see the point in paying more money for more rooms he wasn’t going to use.

Besides, his apartment was conveniently located near the hospital—which he particularly appreciated when he had the early-morning shift. And the late-evening shift. And especially after a double shift.

When he was home, he felt comfortable in his space. It was his sanctuary from the craziness of the world. Four days into the New Year, he was enjoying that sanctuary—until his phone rang, indicating a visitor downstairs. He scowled when he glanced at the monitor and recognized the young woman in the lobby, curiously looking around the foyer as she waited for him to respond to the buzzer.

“Yeah?” he said, his tone deliberately unwelcoming.

“Girl Scout cookie delivery,” she responded cheerfully.

“If you expect someone to buy that story, you should wear the uniform,” he told her.

“Is that what it takes to get an invite to your apartment—a short skirt and a sash?”

“Jeez, no. I’m not a perv.”

“You’re also not opening the door,” his unexpected visitor pointed out.

With a barely suppressed sigh, he punched in the code to release the lock so that she could enter. A few minutes later, there was a knock on his door.

“What are you doing here, Nora?”

His half sister moved past him into the apartment. “You’re not a believer in traditional Southern hospitality, are you?”

“Please, come in,” he said, his sarcasm contradicting the invitation of his words. “Let me take your coat and offer you some sweet tea.”

Ignoring his tone, she took off her coat and handed it to him. “Sweet tea would be nice.”

He hung her coat on one of the hooks behind the door. “Sorry, I’m all out.”

“A glass of wine?”

“Are you old enough to drink?”

“You know I’m only eleven years younger than you.”

He snapped his fingers. “That’s right—I was playing Little League when my father was screwing your mother.”

“Which isn’t my fault any more than it’s yours,” she pointed out.

He sighed, because she was right. And because he knew his mother would be appalled if she ever found out that Nora had come to visit and he’d been less than welcoming.

His mother was another innocent devastated by her husband’s infidelity, although she had forgiven John Garrett a long time ago—before anyone knew that the affair had resulted in a child. And even after learning about the existence of her husband’s illegitimate daughter, Ellen had gone out of her way to make Nora feel she was a part of their family—efforts that the woman in question had mostly resisted.

“Red or white?” Justin asked her now.

“Red, please.”

She followed him into the kitchen, settling herself on a stool at the island while he uncorked a bottle of Napa Valley merlot. He slid a glass across the counter to her and decided—
what the hell?
—he wasn’t on call, and poured a second glass for himself.

“Thank you.” She took a tentative sip, then set the glass down. “I’m looking for a job.”

“And you want to cash in your DNA results for a cushy office at Garrett Furniture,” he guessed.

She shook her head. “I have no interest in your father’s company.”

“Isn’t he your father, too?”

“Well, yes, but that was more by accident than design.”

He nodded in acknowledgment as she sipped her wine again.

“Besides, an office job would bore me to tears,” she told him. “I like to work with people—that’s why I became a registered physical therapist.”

Which he already knew but had no intention of revealing to her, because she’d then want to know how and why he knew it, and he didn’t intend to share that information. Yet.

“Where’d you go to school?” he asked, pretending he didn’t know the answer to that question, either, as he lifted his own glass to his lips.

“The University of Texas at San Antonio. Graduated with honors.” She opened her purse and took out an envelope, offering it to him. “My résumé.”

“What do you want me to do with this?”

“Look at it and, if you think it’s warranted, consider writing a letter of recommendation for me.”

“Why me?”

“Because there’s an opening at Mercy Hospital and the Garrett name carries a considerable amount of weight there.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t go straight to my mother,” he commented. “If you’ve done your homework, you’re aware that she’s on the hiring committee.”

“I’m aware,” she admitted.

“So why didn’t you knock on her door?” he challenged.

She traced the base of her glass with her finger. “Because a part of me was afraid she’d refuse to give a recommendation...and another part was afraid she
would
give it.”