“Well,” KT said briskly. “My hand surgeon assures me that if I’m a good patient and work hard, I might get it all back.” She grinned humorlessly. “Of course, that’s what hand surgeons always say. That way, if you end up with a lousy outcome, they can always blame it on the fact that you didn’t work hard enough in therapy.”

“If working hard is what’s required,” Tory said quietly, “then you’re going to be fine.”

“Absolutely.”

Once more, Tory reined in her distress and soul-deep sympathy for the woman whom she had loved so deeply for so long. “What are you doing here? Do you need something?”

“A job.”

Tory gaped. “You can’t mean here.”

“I can’t operate, Vic. If I sit around doing nothing, I’m going to go crazy. I can still work, and I heard through the grapevine that you had a position open. Your name still carries weight in Boston, especially since you still work in the ER at Boston City part time.”

“It’s impossible,” Tory said with finality.

“Why?” KT posed the question quietly. “Why, Vic?”

“Because…” I ‘m still so angry with you that I can hardly bear to look at you. Because you hurt me so much, and I’ve wanted to hurt you back for so long. Because I can’t stand to see you like this, and I can’t believe that anything about you could still hurt me. Tory merely shook her head resolutely.

For the second time that day, KT did something wholly unexpected. She leaned forward, her pain-filled eyes holding on to Tory’s as if on to a beacon in a raging sea.

“Please, Victoria. I need this chance.”

Why should I care what you need? I needed you. I needed us. You threw it away for a woman you didn’t even love. Do you even remember her name now? Damn you, KT. Damn you . Why did you come here? Why could you possibly think that 1 would care?

Abruptly, Tory rose and walked to the windows at the opposite side of the room. There was nothing to see but sand and scrub. With her back to KT, she said, “I can’t work with you. Besides, I don’t think you can work with only one hand.”

From behind her, Tory heard a small sound that might have been a gasp, or a groan. She turned, instantly regretful. “I’m sorry.”

KT shook her head. “I know what you mean. I can work, though. I can see patients. I can write prescriptions. I can read x-rays. I can do almost anything that needs to be done.” She shuddered as if with a sudden chill. “Except operate. I’d have to have help if someone needed suturing. But with a good medical assistant or a nurse, I could manage. I’d be pretty slow, probably, but”

“Stop,” Tory said softly. There was something that sounded terribly like begging in KT’s voice, and for some reason, that nearly broke her heart.

“Sorry.” KT stood and made a visible effort to straighten. “Well, thanks.”

“What about your hand therapy? How can you work while you’re in therapy?”

“I’ve made some inquiries. One of the nurses in the ER told me about a friend of hers who’s an occupational therapist specializing in hand rehab. Apparently she got tired of living in the city and moved out here a year ago. She works primarily in the hospital in Hyannis, but I think I could set up something for private consults right here in town. Then I could fit my rehab into whatever schedule you needed me to work.” KT gripped the back of the chair in which she had previously been sitting, the knuckles of her right hand white with strain. “You need someone, right? Do you have anyone else you’re considering?”

“I have to think about it. I have to talk to Reese.”

KT blinked. “How is she? And…Regina.”

“They’re fine.” Tory’s expression softened at the memory that it had been KT who had been there for her and Reese and the baby when everything had suddenly gone wrong. And that if it hadn’t been for KT, Regina could very well have suffered. “The baby’s beautiful, KT. Thank you.”

“Yeah, well.” KT smiled. “You’re her mother. Of course she’s beautiful.”

Tory said nothing, torn between so many memories filled with so much happiness and so much pain. “Leave me your number. I’ll call you.”

“I’m ready to start today.”

“I’ll call you.”

Nodding, KT extracted her wallet from the back pocket of her trousers and walked to Tory’s desk. She placed the wallet down on the surface, fumbled it open one-handed, and finally managed to pull out a business card. “Got a pen?”

Silently, Tory handed her one, unable to look at the motionless fingers inside the splint on KT’s left hand. KT turned the card over and scrawled a number on the back, then put down the pen and handed the card to Tory.

“My home number is on the front. I’m not there very often, and I usually can’t remember how to check the answering machine remotely. I wrote my cell on the back. You can always get me on that.”

Tory resolutely avoided thinking about where KT was probably spending her nights if she was rarely at home. “I’ll let you know by tomorrow.”

“Thanks. Goodbye, Vic.”

“Goodbye, KT,” Tory said softly as she watched the stranger whom she once had loved walk out the door.

Chapter Seven

KT walked out the front door of the clinic, stopped at the bottom of the stairs, and waited for the queasiness in her stomach to dissipate. She’d anticipated the difficulty in asking for a job. What she hadn’t expected was how very hard it would be to see Tory again. This was the longest they had been alone together since that afternoon she’d returned home from her interrupted tryst in the on-call room to find Tory waiting in the living room, hollow-eyed and so terribly wounded. The apology she’d intended to make had died on her lips when she was faced with the enormity of Tory’s pain. As had been the case just moments before, on that day she’d simply waited in silence for Tory’s judgment. It had been swift and irrevocable.

“Get out, KT. Get out now and don’t come back.”

Get out, KT. Get out…Get out…

Involuntarily, KT fisted her hands. A river of pain surged in her damaged arm, nearly unbearable. Severed nerves screamed, and inflamed blood vessels pulsed and throbbed. Nausea rose in her already unsettled stomach, and she bit back a moan as she fought to stay upright. Unconsciously, she felt in her right-hand pants pocket for one of the small white tablets and dry swallowed it. Then she took a deep breath and forced herself to focus on her surroundings, relegating her regrets to the past and forcing the pain down to manageable levels.

The parking lot was crowded with patients’ cars and enclosed by scrub pines, low bushes, and sand dunes. Overhead, the sky was clear blue with fluffy white clouds that were so postcard perfect they didn’t seem real. As she watched, a seagull actually coasted by, wings spread, white body gliding on the air. The idyllic picture was a far cry from the bustling, exhaust-fume-sullied streets of

Boston and the pressure-cooker atmosphere of the trauma center. From the turmoil of her life. She’d been on a roller-coaster ride of highs and lows for fifteen years, from the day she’d started her residency in surgery. She’d battled for a place on the team with the big boys, and she’d bested most of them at the high-stakes game of life and death in the trauma ER. Along the way, she’d garnered a reputation for being decisive in a crisis, fast in the OR, and faster with the ladies. The pace and the challenge had suited her need for the adrenaline infusion that came with living on the edge. There was only one thing missing. One huge aching void. Tory.

As if to remind her that there was no going back, a police cruiser pulled into the gravel-and-sand parking lot and slowed to a halt twenty feet away, and Reese Conlon stepped out. The last time KT had seen the sheriff, they’d been standing side by side in the pediatric intensive care unit, gazing down in mutual awe at Tory’s newborn daughter. Reese and Tory’s baby daughter. KT braced herself as she held the gaze of the steely-eyed woman who approached.

“KT,” Reese said evenly as she stopped two feet away. The brim of her hat was pulled low, obscuring her eyes. The rest of her face was unreadable.

“Reese.”

Reese’s gaze traveled from the laceration on KT’s cheek down her body, lingering for a moment on her left arm, and then returning to her shadow-filled eyes. “You doing okay?”

“Managing.” The corner of KT’s mouth turned up in a rueful smile. “You?”

“Things are good. I won’t bore you with the baby pictures.”

KT’s dark eyes flashed, even though Reese’s voice held no hint of victory. “Tory says she’s beautiful.”

“Yes.” Reese considered the earlier phone call and KT’s presence at the clinic, and made the obvious connection. “Just finished your interview?”

“A few minutes ago.” KT scrutinized Reese’s face for some sign of anger or aggression. Nothing. Total control. Impressive. “Problem with that?”

“Not my call.”

“If it was?”

Slowly, Reese shook her head. “It’s not. I need to see Tory for a few minutes. Can I give you a lift somewhere after that?”

“No, thanks. I feel like a walk.”

“Good enough. I’ll see you around, then.”

“Maybe.” KT flashed a grin. “I guess that will be up to Tory.”

Reese said nothing, merely nodding as she turned and walked toward the clinic. KT followed Reese’s powerful form as she took the four stairs up to the front door two at a time, her movements graceful and quick. She was an. imposingly attractive woman. Not the kind of woman KT was interested in bedding, but a worthy opponent, and therefore exciting nonetheless. She tried not to imagine Tory in Reese’s arms as she made her way out to the street and headed toward the center of town.

Forty minutes later, KT realized that a two-mile walk in the middle of the day in early September wasn’t the brightest idea. She was hot and thirsty and light-headed by the time she found the address she was looking for on the far west end of Commercial Street. A white half-Codder with baby blue shutters sat at the far end of a narrow driveway behind a much larger guesthouse that bore a historic sign indicating it was one of the original structures in the Provincetown settlement. At the end of the driveway fronting the street, a discreet, hand-painted wood sign hung from a curved wrought-iron post: Pia Torres, PT, OT, CMT.

KT was halfway to the small cottage before she noticed the woman kneeling by one corner of the small porch, tending a flower bed filled with day lilies and a profusion of brightly colored annuals. A wooden box holding garden tools rested by her side. At the sound of KT’s footsteps, the woman looked up. KT’s immediate impression was one of searching dark eyes, glossy midnight hair that glinted in the bright sunlight, and acres of smooth sienna skin. A sleeveless T-shirt and white boat shorts left her slender, well-toned arms and her shapely legs bare. KT stopped on the sidewalk and nodded in greeting. The answering smile was warm and open.

“Ms. Torres?”

Pia shielded her eyes from the blazing sun with her hand and stared up at the tall, dark stranger. It was hard to make out her features clearly with the sun casting her form in shadow, but the face beneath the thick, dark hair was pale, an unnatural paleness that made the pink scar on her right cheek stand out dramatically. It took only another second for Pia to register the Orthoplast splint with the metacarpal blocks and flexor tendon pulleys on the left hand. Pia stood. “Dr. O’Bannon?”

“Yes. We have an appointment.”

“We do,” Pia confirmed cheerfully as she checked her watch. “You’re just a bit early. Why don’t you come inside and have a drink while I get cleaned up. I’ll be with you in a few minutes.”

“Please don’t hurry,” KT said quietly. “I’ll be happy to wait out here.”

Pia wondered if the other woman even realized that she was swaying where she stood. Perhaps it was the undertone of weariness in her voice or her bold facade even in the face of obvious physical pain that put the gentleness in Pia’s tone.

“It’s ninety degrees out here and getting hotter every second. I can offer you a bit of shade and cool refreshment. It will make it easier for us to talk if you’re not suffering from heatstroke.”

KT hesitated, uncomfortable impinging on the woman’s personal space, especially since she had pressured her for an urgent appointment and then arrived early for it. Still, she was feeling the effects of the heat and experienced a sudden urge to sit down. It probably won’t make a very good impression if I fall over in the woman’s yard. “Thank you. Something to drink would be very nice.”

Pia favored her with another blazing smile and started toward the small porch and the front door. “Good. Just follow me.”