Though she’d rather dwell on every erotic memory of their joining, of soaring with New York City in the background, the persistent sound continued. With a sigh, she retrieved her oversize bag and dug through her things for the small black beeper. She was a bit surprised because she wasn’t scheduled with a patient until nine a.m.

She checked the number and called the hospital back. Though Brianne normally had patients brought to her at Rehab, occasionally she had an immobile patient that couldn’t be moved off the bed but needed strengthening therapy. Mrs. Cohen was one such patient, an elderly woman whom Brianne adored, perhaps because Brianne had no older relatives of her own. The woman had had a skin graft on one leg but still required upper arm workouts so she’d be ready to use her walker when she was allowed out of bed. But why would she need Brianne so early in the morning?

She picked up the phone to find out, but the desk phone on the other end rang endlessly until the hospital’s main switchboard picked up once more. The floor nurse could be with a patient or dealing with an emergency. Brianne shrugged and hung up. The page couldn’t be a mistake, not at this hour. She’d just toss on her clothes and head out early.

Tiptoeing back into her bedroom so as not to wake Jake, she pulled out a pair of black slacks and a white V-necked T-shirt, an acceptable alternative to hospital scrubs, but one she didn’t use often because her uniform was quick and easy. She’d lived on the move for as long as she could remember, and she hadn’t had time to think about how she looked. She didn’t have the time now, either, but the difference was, she cared. Because of the man asleep in her bed.

She made her way to the queen-size mattress and lay down, allowing herself to snuggle beside him for a few precious minutes before leaving for the day. He groaned and pulled her into his arms. He felt so right, so good. She sighed, burrowing her face into his broad chest. He smelled of musk and man, and she’d never felt as safe and protected as she did right now. Ironic, considering he dealt with risk and danger every day.

But she didn’t deal with that risk or danger. And that enabled her to breathe deeply and enjoy this moment. She shut her eyes and smoothed her hands over the strong planes of his back, memorizing the corded muscle and warm skin, giving herself memories to keep close to her heart while she was gone. Then, with regret, she rolled away. He reached out for her in his sleep, and Brianne felt the beginnings of a smile on her lips. It was easier to leave knowing he’d miss her, too.

She could get used to this too easily, and it could be taken away from her just as fast-by Jake’s belief that he didn’t want a long-term relationship. Or by a gunman’s bullet, Brianne thought with a shudder.

Maybe Mrs. Cohen’s page had come at the optimal time, after all. She’d planned on waking up next to him and making love to him again-with protection this time. Their foolishness in the whirlpool couldn’t be repeated, nor would she worry unless and until she had to. But making love with Jake in the morning was a luxury she couldn’t, shouldn’t, make a habit.

No matter how much she was coming to desire otherwise.

JAKE NORMALLY WOKE with the sun, but apparently the late-night activity had worn him out because when he looked up, the clock on the nightstand read 7:48. He felt the warm body heat nestled against him and rolled over, expecting to find Brianne and wanting to bury himself deep inside her again.

Unfortunately, he discovered Norton flush against him instead. “Oh, jeez.” He grimaced in disgust. “You are not the warm body I wanted.”

The dog didn’t move. Jake groaned and pushed himself to an upright position. He still had about fifteen minutes to catch Brianne before she left for work, and regardless of the fact that he wanted to make love to her, he knew he had to talk to her instead. Thanks to his stupidity last night, he’d added something else to his list of sins: sex without protection.

Without warning, his revelations to Brianne came back to him. He’d admitted wanting kids. What he’d omitted was that he’d never really been able to envision the family scene with Linda. Things between them had soured too fast. But Jake could too easily imagine it with Brianne. Waking to her warm body in the morning and falling asleep beside her at night. Watching her body change and grow with his child.

Jesus, where had that thought come from? He jumped out of bed, looked for her in the bathroom, then headed for the kitchen. Unfortunately she wasn’t there, either. His heart skipped a beat, and the note propped against the coffee machine didn’t calm his nerves: “Wish I could have shared the morning coffee with you but I got called to the hospital a little early. Have a cup for me. Brianne.”

She’d left him with a full pot of coffee and a burning sensation in his gut. How the hell had he slept through a phone call?

As if on cue, the telephone rang.

He snatched up the receiver. “Brianne?”

“No, David. If she had to be at the hospital early, why the hell didn’t you call me? I’d have tailed her or relieved you there.”

“She’s at work?”

“Yeah, she’s there. But I can’t do my job if you don’t-”

Jake slammed down the phone, cutting David off cold. “Sorry, buddy,” he muttered belatedly. And he continued muttering as he pulled on a pair of jeans, a T-shirt and sneakers, grabbed his keys and ran for the door.

This woman would be the death of him. And he wanted to die every morning and every night with her in his arms. But he couldn’t do that if she was wandering around, ignorant of the threat Ramirez posed.

He tipped the doorman and asked him to walk Norton, before hailing a cab and heading for Brianne. He’d put off the truth in favor of selfish need last night, but the morning had come and he had to level with her. Immediately.

BRIANNE RUBBED HER EYES and poured a cup of coffee from the machine in the lounge. She’d gotten here early, and apparently she’d been needed more for emotional support than physical therapy. Mrs. Cohen had become disoriented and had tried to leave her bed. Her family was away, and the name the older woman kept muttering was Brianne’s. It was probably because Brianne didn’t treat only a patient’s body, she treated her mind. She talked to patients while she was working. And she often got the sense that too few people, doctors and family alike, did the same.

She pulled a couple of pink papers out of her pocket, glancing at her messages. One was from her old landlord asking her to come by and pick up her mail-he’d agreed to hold it for her instead of her switching things around for the summer and risking losing important bills and letters. She wondered if there was a reply from the Ranch and shivered. She now viewed the prospect, which had once held great appeal, with increasing uncertainty. Because of Jake.

Brianne took a long, less-than-satisfying sip of the strong, caffeinated brew. She’d need the jolt if she was going to stay awake and on her feet after the night she’d had. And what a night it was-hot, sultry-and she wasn’t talking about the weather. That was why contemplating the end of the summer or, worse, the end of her relationship with Jake was so painful. But the alternative was unbelievably confusing. She massaged her aching head once more.

If a summer affair was supposed to be straightforward and easy, why was Brianne so confused about so many things?

She’d always hoped that if she did get the California job, she would enjoy the same kind of warm rapport with the kids that she did with the elderly adults here. But she couldn’t know for sure, and Brianne liked the geriatric patients she treated. More than she’d admitted to herself. They held a wealth of life history and love, even the cantankerous ones. They counted on her, and she prided herself on knowing she’d never let them down.

And then there was the biggest reason her upcoming move no longer held great appeal. She rubbed at her temples with her right hand. Even if another therapist could take her patients, Jake would still be in New York. Her insides churned, and Brianne understood the reason. She would be across the country, in California with the brother she adored. But he was becoming a man; Marc no longer needed her quite the same way he had when he was younger. She’d called him after leaving Mrs. Cohen and he’d rushed her off the phone; meeting his friends was now more important than talking to his sister. He’d grown up.

Maybe it was time Brianne did the same. Did that mean considering a future in New York, with Jake? She shook her head. What was she thinking? He’d given her no indication he wanted more than a summer fling, and, besides, nothing about their differences had changed. Or had they? Perhaps a better question was, had she changed?

“Brianne?” Sharon burst into the room, a yellow, gold and orange bouquet of wildflowers in her hands. “Someone left this on the front desk. It’s for you.”

Surprised, Brianne took the arrangement and placed it on the table by the old couch.

“Secret admirer?” Sharon asked.

“I don’t know.” Actually, she did know, and warmth spread through her. She hadn’t thought Jake was a flowers kind of guy but apparently she was wrong. She held the knowledge close, having no desire to “share” Jake, her feelings or his gift, by discussing him-even with a friend.

“They are beautiful,” Sharon said.

Brianne glanced at the flowers. They were charming and perfect for her. She didn’t know what they were called, but she adored the simple arrangement.

The phone in the lounge rang, and Brianne picked it up on the first ring. “Rehab, Brianne Nelson speaking.”

“Did you like the gift?” asked a deep male voice with a trace of a foreign accent.

She gripped the phone tighter in her hand. “I think you have the wrong person.”

“You said this is Brianne Nelson.”

“It is,” she said warily, the memory of the man with the tattoo sneaking into her mind. “Who is this?”

“I thought a classy woman like you would have better manners. Don’t I deserve a thanks for sending pretty flowers to such a pretty woman?”

“Maybe I’d thank you if I knew who you were.” She heard the shaking in her voice and tamped down on her nerves.

But Sharon must have sensed her anxiety; she put a comforting hand on her back.

“No? Well, then you can thank me in person,” the stranger said.

“Who are you?” Brianne didn’t know if she was dealing with a benign secret admirer or a stalker. Despite her best efforts, trembling turned to shaking, and she eyed the flowers she’d once found lovely with anxious confusion.

“Hang up, Brianne.” At the sound of Jake’s voice, she whipped around, surprised he’d come to find her here, but not really surprised he’d be around when she needed him.

She didn’t question his right to give orders; she just slammed the phone into the cradle and took a step back, away from the floral bouquet.

“Can we have a few minutes alone?” Jake asked.

Brianne glanced at Sharon, who was staring back and forth between Brianne and Jake, obviously unsure of what to make of the situation. Brianne didn’t know what to make of it, either.

“It’s okay. I need to talk to him,” she told her friend.

“You’ve been holding out on me,” Sharon said, a curious yet in-awe expression on her face when she looked at Jake. “If you need anything, I’ll be out front.”

“Thanks.” Brianne glanced at her watch, and though her breathing came in shallow gasps, she somehow managed to go through her schedule in her mind. “Sharon, could you please take my nine-thirty? I’ll owe you, I promise.”

“Not a problem. You can repay me with information.” After another lingering glance at Jake, Sharon walked out of the lounge, leaving the two of them alone.

Jake stood in front of her and squeezed her trembling hands in his. “What happened?” He put an arm around her waist and led her to an old plaid couch.

She’d worked here for so long, yet the couch predated her. It was worn and familiar and gave her a steadying calm she desperately needed. She forced herself to recount her morning, something that helped to calm her nerves. “I got paged on my beeper early.”

“And I didn’t hear it because…?”

“I was in the kitchen getting a glass of juice and you were still fast asleep. My bag with the pager was still in the living room.” And she didn’t have to tell him why her purse had never made it into her bedroom last night. The darkening in his gaze told her he remembered everything about last night as vividly as she did.