Catch a Falling Star (31 page)

Kendall struggled to keep her voice low. “You tabled the discussion the night I came to dinner. I had no idea you were giving it to people—”

“It's the only way to test the efficacy of the medicine. You're a doctor, you know that.”

“That's what the FDA is for, Heath.”

“I am not wasting the time and money of the FDA. Red tape. I've seen the benefits of this day-to-day on the mission field. If I can do my own tests, develop my own data, compile the research—”

Kendall pressed her fingers against her temples. “Do you realize what you've done? How you've put me at risk?”

“The ends always justify the means, dear Kendall. I had the supplement. You had the population base I needed. And the reputation.”

“Are you saying that more of my patients are taking this drug?”

“Of course. It's the only way to get adequate results.”

Kendall didn't know how it happened. One minute she was trying to unravel all the information Heath Parker dumped on her while trying to figure out how he'd gotten access to her
patient records. The next minute she slapped him.
Hard.
Her palm and fingers stung, but from the red outline of her fingers on his face, Heath's skin throbbed, too.

“Wha—?” Heath stumbled back. Kendall knew she had his attention—that she'd rocked him out of his complacency.

“I want every single name, do you understand me? Every. Single. Name. Get them to me by tomorrow morning. You'll be hearing from my lawyer.” Kendall advanced on him again, poking her finger in his chest. “You may think you can mess with me, Parker, but you won't hurt my kids.”

“Come here, Sully.”

Kendall patted the foot of her bed, inviting the dog to climb up next to her. He only needed to be asked once. Invitations to sleep with her were rare. Sully plopped his front paws on the patterned comforter and then wiggled his way on top of the mattress, finally positioning himself in the center of the bed.

Kendall didn't care. She wrapped her arms around the dog's furry neck, pulling him close.

“What happened to ‘older is wiser,' huh?” Kendall lay back against the pile of pillows, pulling the dog with her so that he stretched out alongside her. “I'm on the wrong side of thirty-five and getting played like I was in high school. Only this hurts worse.”

Except she wasn't going to cry over Heath Parker. After homecoming, she cried for weeks over Phillip—not that anyone ever knew it. She came home from the dance, stuck her dress in the back of her closet, and resorted to hiding out in the garage with her dad. But at night, as the other girl's words replayed in her head, she muffled sobs with her pillow.

And the other resident—the one who'd showed up for their
first
date and announced he realized they weren't right for each other? Yeah, there'd been tears then, too. But not for as long. And that time she threw herself into her residency. Her patients. Her purpose.

“How did I not see it? Am I that desperate?”

Was she? Sully wasn't answering, so it was up to her. Desperate or not, reality slapped her in the face: She was thirty-six. And alone. She thought she'd been picked. At last, someone thought she was enough.

Oh, yeah. She'd been picked, all right. Heath Parker chose her to take the fall for his drug scam. Well, she wasn't going down without a fight. Why she threatened him with her “lawyer,” she couldn't figure out. She had an accountant, not a lawyer. So far, the investigation wasn't about her. If she needed a lawyer, she'd get one—someone who could make sure Heath Parker never hurt another kid again, and could wipe the smug grin off his face at the same time. There was one thing she could do: report him to the state medical board. Was he even licensed to practice in Colorado? She'd assumed too much about Heath Parker.

She knew she wasn't the one really hurt in all this. She needed to remember Nicholas. He was the one spending the night in the hospital, not her. Kendall rubbed the heels of her palms against her eyes, wishing the tears would come and wash away the ache.

There was no need for her to have any tests run. She'd get over having her heart broken.

Not that Heath Parker broke her heart.

But Griffin Walker had.

No, no . . . this was not the time to think about Griffin Walker—Mr. Do-Not-Cross-This-Line. Heath Parker was all
charisma and charm. Griffin Walker could audition for a reality show about bachelors
not
looking for true love.

And Kendall had to fall in love with him?

Yes, yes, she did. The man threw up roadblock after emotional roadblock, and Kendall's heart vaulted over every single one.

What was wrong with her? Was she so “less than” that no man would ever want to marry her? It sure looked that way. No matter how she tried, her longed-for golden ring—career, marriage, family—would always be right beyond her grasp.

She was the one who skewed the grading curve in her college classes. The “gunner” in medical school. Always aiming for the top grades, the top 1 percent. And she always achieved success.

Excelled.

Won.

“But I'm the loser tonight, Sully.” Kendall hugged the dog tighter as he licked her face. “Rejected. Played. Wow. Can it get any worse? Don't answer that.”

C
olorado Springs just wasn't big enough for Griffin and his ex-wife. He hadn't been skulking around town holding his breath, hoping not to run into her again—not really. But the what-if of meeting Tracey lurked in the back of his mind ever since he'd seen her at the restaurant.

And now here she was, entering the lobby of the Y as he dragged his sweaty body out of the gym. He knew he should have skipped the workout when Doug bailed on him. But no. He had to stay the course, ignore the vertigo dancing an off-kilter jig in his head, and push himself through a Spin class led by a fitness sadist.

“Well, this is a surprise.” Tracey stopped walking, pulling Griffin up short. “I had no idea you worked out here.”

The fact was, the woman knew nothing about him, not after a dozen years of silence. Any intel she had about him was all hearsay, passed through the infamous cadet alumni grapevine.

“Tracey.” Griffin shifted his canvas workout bag to his other hand, scanning the area behind her. Where were her replacement husband and too-cute-to-be-true kids to complete the happy family his ex had created?

“Just me today. Todd didn't feel like working out, so I left him home on dad-duty with the trio. We're still getting settled in—we bought a house in the Briargate area.”

“Congratulations.” At least God hadn't been so cruel to have them set up “Home Sweet Home” in his neighborhood.

Griffin couldn't resist assessing the woman he'd been married to for six years. She'd changed—but then, twelve years would change anyone. He had to admit she still looked good. She wore her medium-length auburn hair down, skimming her shoulders. Back when they were married she kept it pulled back and pinned up—easier to deal with. There were fine lines around her eyes, but they didn't detract from Tracey's classic beauty. He'd always liked how her moss-green eyes revealed her moods—until Tracey settled into one unshakable emotion: resentment.

“We've both gotten older.” Tracey touched the side of her face as if uncomfortable under his scrutiny. “Older looks good on you—it usually does on a man. I like the gray in your hair.”

“Thanks. You . . . look good, too, Tracey.” From her coordinated outfit of sleek black yoga pants with a matching black-and-lime-green top paired with trendy tennis shoes, she still approached shopping as an art form.

“Oh, just tell me that I look exhausted and get it done with.” She sighed as she ran her fingers through her hair, tossing it back as if being tired was no big deal. “I have three young kids. I'm always worn out.”

Griffin tried to think of an appropriate response. Something like
You don't look that bad.
Having a conversation after years of
silence wasn't all that simple. And really, what did they have to say to each other? He'd made his choices and she'd made hers—even if her overflowing life looked nothing like the “No Kids Allowed” one she'd demanded from him.

“I was surprised to hear you were flying a desk, Griff. Being a pilot is your life. What happened?”

Now she was interested in his career?

“Nothing that won't be cleared up in a few weeks.”

“You get in trouble?”

“No.” He could continue to evade her questions or put a stop to her curiosity. “I . . . had some problems with vertigo. I'm better now. I expect the medical board to reinstate me to flying status again.”

“I hope so. You're one of the best pilots around.”

Imagine that—a compliment from Tracey. Not that it mattered to him. Let the woman think what she wanted about him. They'd had their chance at a relationship and botched it. Then she'd left him reeling with the repercussions of a decision he couldn't undo.

“I didn't get a chance to ask the other day—how are your parents? I think it's great they let Ian come visit you.”

And just like that, Tracey crashed into his personal life.

“Ian's not visiting me, Tracey—he lives with me. I'm his guardian now because our parents were killed five months ago.”

“I'm sorry—”

Griffin took a step back. “Enough, Tracey. I'm not going to stand around and discuss my life with you just because you decided to move back to the Springs. We didn't talk for years. And you know what? I'm good with that.”

“Griff—” Tracey took a step back, too.

“You walked out on me after demanding I give up any chance of having a family to try and make our marriage work.
And now here you are—and you've got it all. And I'm still stuck with the consequences of the choice I made years ago to keep you happy.”

Finally he'd had the chance to speak out loud all the imaginary, one-sided conversations he'd had with Tracey through the years. But as his words died down, Griffin realized the entire lobby area of the Y had stilled. People watched him as he lit into his ex-wife, who stood staring at him, offering no defense.

Great. Just great.

“I'm outta here.” He exited the lobby, almost running to where his Jeep waited in the parking lot. Maybe he should go back and apologize for what he said. But the truth was, if he found himself face-to-face with Tracey again, more resentment would spew out of him.

He started the Jeep, jammed the stick shift into reverse, and tore out of the lot, not sure where he was headed. He couldn't outrun his past, and his future looked bleak.

“Thanks, Warren, I really appreciate this.”

Griffin's old Academy classmate walked beside him on the flight line of the local airport, leading him to where his Cessna 172 was parked. “I'm just sorry you can't take her up.”

Griffin scanned the various planes standing at rest. “Yeah, well, I'll wait until I'm cleared to fly and then I'll come back and celebrate with a night flight.”