It Takes A Hero

Sophie

It Takes a Hero

by

C.J. Carmichael

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Chapter One

It was 10 p.m., one hour before the end of her evening shift, and Lucy Caldwell had just popped the tab on a can of root beer when the ER room got the call. Paramedic squad 2 was already en route to the hospital. "We've got two men, late twenties or early thirties, both conscious with knife wounds. We started an IV on the younger guy — he's got a knife in his abdomen and has lost a lot of blood. The other is doing okay — just a laceration to his hand that'll need some stitches." The ER physician on duty, Rachel Browne, hit the transmit button. "Any other injuries?" "Not that we can see." Lucy set aside her soda in order to replenish the treatment tray. Dr. Browne made a sound of disgust. "I can't believe this — it's only ten o'clock." So far their evening had been typical — several children with high fevers, a baseball injury to a teenaged boy and a man in his sixties who thought he was having a heart attack. Cases involving crime and gang warfare — and this latest incident was bound to be one or the other — normally didn't hit the ER until after midnight. Ten minutes later came the inevitable wail of the sirens. Lucy snapped on a fresh pair of gloves then pulled a mask over her mouth and nose. Across the room, Dr. Browne did the same. For a moment, their gazes met over the sterile examining bed. Rachel gave her a small, reassuring nod, which Lucy appreciated. She'd worked in the Courage Bay Hospital's ER since graduation two years ago, but each new call still caused a flutter in her stomach. In the ER you never knew what situation was about to fly in the door. Just last week a man had been brought in with a gunshot wound to his

chest. Firefighters had accompanied the paramedics, one of them performing CPR, another holding the endotracheal tube in place. Bad, bad news. Lucy had fought an urge to run out of the room, to hand in her resignation and admit that her parents were right. She couldn't handle this job. But somehow, she'd stuck it out. Despite the turmoil of emotions within her, she'd maintained a calm facade. When the paramedic's original IV line had blown, she'd started a new one with steady fingers on her first attempt. The situation she tensed as Moments later the room with

tonight would not be as dire as that one, she hoped. Still, she heard the wheels of the gurneys against linoleum. the paramedics, accompanied by a cop this time, burst into the two victims.

"Come on in," said Ellen, the charge nurse for the evening. "We're holding your table." Lucy was surprised to see that the accompanying cop was Officer Casey Guthrie. His dark hair was a mess, thanks to his motorcycle helmet, which he carried tucked under his arm like a football. As his gaze swept the room, he spied her and offered a quick nod, displaying no sign of his usual, cocky charm. Lucy's attention quickly centered on the two victims. One struggled to sit upright on the gurney. "Get me off this thing. I'm perfectly capable of walking." He sounded educated. And familiar. But as he was wheeled into a separate curtained area, she focused on the second man, who would be her patient. He lay pale and inert — clearly, he had sustained the more severe injuries. "Well, well," Rachel said. "If it isn't our pal, Howard Barker." Indeed it was. Barker, a small-time criminal, showed up in the ER periodically when his robbery attempts went awry. Lucy checked the IV line. "Don't you ever learn?" Howard was conscious, but only just, as the doctor performed a quick assessment. A second nurse hooked the patient up to the monitor and put on the blood pressure cuff as Lucy hung a new bag to the intact IV line. Howard's glazed eyes followed her every movement. "Good to see you, Angel," he said. "Howard, we've got to stop meeting like this." With heavy-duty trauma shears, Lucy cut away Howard's clothing, his filthy jeans and even more foul-smelling T-shirt, searching for other injuries. She took note of the tattoo on his left arm, and a new one on the other arm. "See anything else?" Rachel asked. "Nothing." Apparently the knife in his abdomen was the extent of it this time. Now Lucy took a closer look at the injury. The knife had entered at the midpoint above the umbilicus and had only penetrated a few inches.

"Not too bad," Rachel said. "We can sew this up nice and pretty for you, Howard." Lucy felt relieved that the wound hadn't thief with poor hygiene, but he was also toddlers. He carried their photos in his man who never left the house without his bad. She knew he drank now and then, but point in his favor.

been more serious. Howard was a a young man with a wife and two wallet. Lucy didn't see how a babies' pictures could be all he didn't do drugs. Another

"I hurt, Angel." "Of course you hurt. You have a knife in your gut." Lucy cleaned the wound so the doctor could start suturing. "So what happened this time?" Rachel drew the needle carefully through the first fold of skin. "I'm not sure. I stopped this guy to talk. Next thing I know, he's throwing punches." "Interesting story, Barker." Officer Casey Guthrie emerged from behind the curtained area where the second man had been taken for treatment. "Unfortunately, it doesn't jive with what the man back there just told me." Now that the first rush of procedures were over, Casey spared Lucy a grin. "Fancy seeing you here." She gave a small nod toward the man on the table. "I'm running into all sorts of familiar faces tonight." "But mine is your favorite, right?" "No flirting in my ER, Mr. Guthrie, please." Rachel's tone was firm, but smile lines crinkled on either side of her pretty eyes. "Got it, Doc." Casey gave Lucy a wink then turned back to Howard. "How about you save us some time and cut the crap, Howie. You saw a guy in a good suit step out of an expensive car and decided to unburden him of his wallet. Unexpectedly, he fought back and you ended up knifing yourself in the gut. That about cover it?" Howard glowered. "His suit wasn't that good." "Not up to the standard of your apparel, admittedly." A second man stepped out from behind the curtain. Despite the ordeal he'd just been through, his wool jacket had hardly a wrinkle. His black shoes looked freshly polished. The collar of his shirt was impeccably white. The spitting image of a businessman emerging from a boardroom to take a call. Except for the bandages on his right hand. Lucy hadn't seen him for many years. The setting was out of context. But suddenly the face — handsome, lean, well-bred — connected with a name from her past. "Dean Haskins." Or Dean Richard Haskins the third, as her mother preferred to call him. Alexis Caldwell had mentioned something about his return to Courage Bay when Lucy had called her last week. Now Dean in the

flesh turned his cool, detached eyes in her direction and frowned. "Have we met?" He stepped up to her and hooked a finger through her mask, pulling it aside so he could see her face. Lucy was shocked. By his nerve. By his closeness. By his height. By the fact that he smelled as good as he looked. Wouldn't a normal man sweat after being attacked by a guy with a knife? "Lucy Caldwell," he said softly. He smiled, and something changed in his eyes. They seemed softer. More approachable. "I see you're no longer bouncing basketballs off my parents' garage door. Or rescuing their goldfish from the pond and releasing them to the ocean." Where they most assuredly had died within minutes of being dumped into the unfamiliar saltwater. Some of her stunts had been motivated by more heart than brains. But she'd been young and foolish then. The scourge of the upper-class Jacaranda Heights neighborhood where she'd been born and raised. "Another two-by-two, please, Lucy." Dr. Browne spoke mildly, reminding Lucy of her duties. Dean backed away and Lucy dabbed at the small pool of blood, allowing the doctor to make her final suture. Casey, she noticed, still stood in the corner of the room, watching Dean curiously. "You guys know each other?" "I lived across the street. We grew up together," Dean said. Grew up together? That was stretching the facts, Lucy thought. Dean had been five years older and had considered her beneath his notice. Not that she had cared. From a young age, she'd known she didn't fit in with the country club set. She wanted to make a difference in the world, and not just with a Waterford pen and a checkbook, the way her parents did. And Dean would be no different. Her father had told her what a success he'd made of his life. First business school and an MBA, then he'd started his own company, which had recently been listed on the New York Stock Exchange. "My mother told me you were relocating your head office from L.A. to Courage Bay." "Did she? I'm so glad you found me worthy of conversation." Was he flirting? Dean Haskins the third? Here, in front of the man who'd tried to rob him, the doctor who was stitching the wound he'd inflicted and the cop who'd undoubtedly been the first on the scene? "Everyone's going to be talking about you after this," she said. And for some reason, Lucy felt annoyed to realize that he would be considered a hero and all because he'd managed to fend off a poor, malnourished man who was only trying to put food on the table for his family. "Did youhave to stick the knife in him?" "Did I have to — ?" Dean looked at her in amazement. "He was trying to rob me, for Pete's sake! Anyway, I didn't mean to hurt him. I was just

trying to grab the knife out of his hand." What kind of man said for Pete's sake, in a situation like this? Dean Haskins was just too upper crust for his own good. Lucy made slow and careful work of dressing Howard's laceration, hoping that Dean would take the hint and leave. But he didn't. "What time do you get off? We should catch up over coffee." Dean's invitation was totally unexpected. And unsettling. He couldn't, really, have any interest in having coffee with her. And surely she hadn't given him the impression she wanted to spend time with him. "Dean…" she began, but Casey interrupted her. "Sorry, buddy, maybe you should ask one of the other nurses. Lucy's got a date with me

Chapter Two

Dean Haskins wondered what Alexis Caldwell would say if she were here right now. Though he'd grown up in the house across the street from the Caldwell's, he'd never known Lucy's mother to step outside without makeup and heels. He could only imagine her horror if she could see her daughter in generic scrubs with sensible, rubber-soled flats on her feet. And not a touch of makeup that he could tell. Still, Lucy Caldwell looked lovely, she really did. That cloud of gold hair that framed her face. Her tiny, perfectly proportioned figure. A face so pretty, even a mask couldn't hide its beauty. He didn't remember her showing so much promise as a kid. But then, had he ever really looked at her? Pigtails and blue jeans were all that came to mind now. And her mother, forever standing at the front door and chastising her. Lucy, get down from that tree, this instant. Lucy, I told you not to get a speck of dust on that dress. Lucy, we're going to be late if you don't… Dean realized he should not be surprised that the neighborhood tomboy had grown up into a fearless, capable ER nurse — who was apparently dating a motorcycle cop. That last bit must really annoy the heck out of her parents. "Okay, that's it." The doctor stepped back then pulled off her gloves with a sigh. "Lucy, once you've finished sorting out your social calendar, can you finish up with Mr. Barker here?" She left the room, along with the other nurse, whom presumably the cop had intended for him to ask out in place of Lucy. Flushed, Lucy placed her hands on her hips. She threw disgusted looks between him and the cop, as if she couldn't decide who to lambaste first. "So we'll do coffee another time?"

"Sure, Dean. Another time." Her tone and demeanor intimated she might have a half hour to spare in about a century or so. "Now, could you two please get out of here so I can have a minute alone with my patient?" "Let's finish that statement, shall we?" Casey motioned for Dean to follow him out of the room. Before leaving, Dean shot one more glance back at Lucy. She was leaning over the idiot who'd tried to rob him, murmuring something in a soft, soothing tone. Suddenly, he remembered how furiously protective she'd been about a stray kitten she'd found on the street one day. After telling off the boys who'd been teasing the poor creature, she'd settled on the immaculate Caldwell lawn, cradling the kitten in her lap and speaking to it in much the same tone she was using with this jerk right now. Lucky bugger.

* * * It was almost midnight by the time Lucy entered the main doors of the Courage Bay Bar and Grill. This was the preferred hangout of many of the community's police, fire and medical emergency staff. In fact, this was where she'd met Casey Guthrie, over a game of darts about a month ago. They'd dated several times since then, but Casey displayed no sign of getting serious about her. That was okay. Gina Goodman, daughter of the owners of the Bar and Grill and a pal of Lucy's, had warned her about Casey's reputation. "He'll break your heart if you're foolish enough to fall in love with him." Well, Lucy wasn't that foolish. Besides, she was only twenty-five years old. A relationship involving a bit of fun and some laughs was fine with her. But she did feel a touch of envy for the woman who would one day capture Casey's heart. He was the sort of guy who didn't fall easily, but when he did, it would be with every fiber of his being. "Hey, Luce! Over here!" Casey had spotted her. Now he waved her over to his favorite corner of the u-shaped bar. He stood to give her a brief kiss then settled her into the adjacent stool. "I was beginning to think you'd stood me up for The Suit." Meaning Dean Haskins. "Definitely not my type." She accepted the drink Casey had already ordered for her and after one sip, identified it as an IV — a combination of vodka and triple sec served straight up. So potent, she knew this would be her only drink of the night. Gina was behind the bar and Lucy waved hello. "When you have a minute, could you bring me some potato skins? I'm starved." She was always calorie-deprived after a shift in the ER. And tonight had been especially demanding. "Not your type, huh? Any idea how you're going to convince him of that?" Casey tipped his head in the direction of a man seated across the bar from them.

"I don't believe this." Lucy took a second sip of her drink, avoiding eye contact with Dean, who did, indeed, seem to be watching her intently. "Any chance he's with another woman?" "None at all," Casey said cheerfully. "There's got to be more to this story. Care to fill me in?" "Why? Are you jealous?" "Insanely." Lucy sighed. "It's like Dean said. We lived on the same street when we were kids. Then Dean moved to L.A. to go to school and start a business. My mom told me he'd recently come back to Courage Bay. Something about a good friend dying and him reassessing his priorities." Lucy did not share with Casey the rest of her mother's conversation. About what a great catch Dean would make, and how she ought to give him a call and offer to show him around. Just to be friendly. As if her mother cared a wit about friendly. She wanted Lucy to stake her claim before the other eligible Jacaranda Heights girls got wind of the new boy in town. The potato skins were delivered and Casey and Lucy both helped themselves. "What really happened out on the street tonight?" Lucy asked. "A botched robbery attempt." Casey washed down a large bite of potato skin with some beer. "I spotted two men fighting in a side street and got off my bike to break them up. At first, I assumed the guy bleeding on the sidewalk was the victim. Your boyfriend definitely got the best of Howie tonight." "He is not now, and never was, my boyfriend." "Great. Well, why don't you hash that out with him? I have a sudden, uncontrollable urge to visit the washroom." Lucy glanced across the bar. Dean was no longer in his seat. He was coming this way! She grasped at Casey's arm. "You can't leave me." "Trust me, sweetheart. I have a feeling about this." Casey planted a kiss on the top of her head then slipped out from her hold. Lucy felt like an open target with the empty bar stool right beside her. Sure enough, three seconds later, Dean Haskins took the empty space. He didn't talk to her at first. She shifted her weight off the stool and wondered if she could just sneak away… "Come on, Lucy. Was I that mean to you as a kid?" "That's not it, Dean." She settled back onto the wooden seat, resigned to a very, very brief conversation with the man. "Then what's the problem? Why are you so reluctant to have so much as a simple conversation with me?" He glanced sideways at her. He was still wearing his suit. Hadn't even loosened his tie. And he still

smelled way, way too good to be real. "What do you want, Dean? To catch up on the family news? My mother will be a better source, trust me." "But I'd rather talk to you. Lucy, I'd much rather talk to you." Oh, lucky her. She raised her eyes to the ceiling. Watch your tongue, Lucy. Whatever she said now would doubtless be reported back to her mother, eventually. Dean was still watching her. "You're not interested in talking to me. Is that what that bored expression is meant to convey?" What could she say to that? It was the truth. He leaned a little closer. "Let me guess — I'm not your type." Why did he keep pushing this? She'd tried to be polite. With some guys, though, only the direct approach would work. "That's right. You are so not my type, Dean Haskins." "Are you sure?" "My dad has told me about your success. How your corporation was recently listed on the New York Stock Exchange and that you'll probably be a Fortune 500 company one day soon. I'm sure the eligible women at the country club are going to be beating at your door, but I won't be one of them." "So, I'm not your type because I'm successful?" He looked puzzled by this. "I don't care about money and business and commerce. I don't care about any of the stuff that my parents are so keen about. I became a nurse to make a difference in this world. A real difference." "I see." "And when I get married, I intend it to be with a very special man who shares the same values that I do. Not someone who cares more about owning the latest brand of golf clubs than the fact that there are children in this city who don't get enough to eat every day." "Married. Wow. I thought I just asked you for coffee…" She felt the telltale heat flash across her face. "We have really good coffee in Courage Bay. People have been known to get carried away." To Dean's credit, he laughed. "Okay. We'll steer clear of the coffee. That's obviously way too serious for this stage of our relationship." This stage? Was the guy not listening? "I have a rule of thumb. If a guy wears a suit to work — and especially if he wears a suit to a bar — then I don't date him." "I don't always wear suits, Lucy. Tonight was — unusual — to say the least. I had just concluded an important business meeting when that crook sprung on me." Lucy refused to feel sorry for him. "Why didn't you just give him your money? You probably wouldn't have missed it and he has kids, you know. "

"No, I didn't know. He didn't tell me about his kids when he pulled his knife on me." Lucy stopped herself from irrational here. Dean had fact that he had not only the whole episode looking

arguing further. She knew she was being totally been the wronged party. But she just hated the gotten the best of Howard, but had emerged from like one of People magazine's Most Beautiful.

Anyway, why was a guy with his looks, his success, his prospects, wasting time on her? Lucy knew she was pretty. But she had her flaws. The biggest being that she was short. Didn't most ambitious, successful men want tall, leggy women for their trophy brides? "Look, you're right. Howard is a crook who got exactly what he deserved. It just makes me sad that his children and his wife are going to be the ones who suffer when he ends up doing time in jail." "You think that's where he'll end up?" "Well, he can't afford bail. Or a decent lawyer." "I'm not sure a decent lawyer could help since that crook was stupid enough to try and hold me up in front of a cop." Until this moment, Lucy had forgotten all about Casey. Now she searched the room and spotted him in the back, playing darts with a buddy. The cad. He'd just walked out on her without a second thought. How did he know Dean wasn't a dangerous stalker or something? Dean swiveled in his chair to face her, his expression thoughtful. "You know, I admire your need to make a difference in the world." "You do?"

Chapter Three

Fifteen minutes phone rang. She the nightstand. be on the line.

after Dean dropped her off at her apartment door, Lucy's was already in bed and had to reach, through the dark, to Though she did not have call display, she knew who would Only how had her mother found out the news so soon?

But it wasn't her mother. "Luce?" "I'm not talking to you." Which was obviously not true, since she'd just spoken. "I just wanted to make sure you got home okay." "How gallant. You know, Casey, that was, without a doubt, the worst date I have ever been on." He chuckled. "It won't make my top ten, either."

"Well, whose fault is that? How could you have left me, defenseless and alone with that…with that…" "With that brave, respectable man you've known all your life, who is obviously smitten with you?" Lucy couldn't let him win that easily. "He knifed Howie." "Luce…" Casey admonished. "I just hope you know it's over between you and me now." For a moment he said nothing. Then, "I knew that the moment you and Haskins looked at each other." "You're crazy." Thinking back to when she'd recognized Dean, Lucy knew it hadn't been like one of those emotionally-charged scenes from the movies, when the music changes and the lights go into soft-focus and the audience knows these two characters were meant for each other. Casey was probably looking for an excuse to break things off with her. Dean had offered him the perfect out. "I may be crazy, but I know when I'm the odd man out. Look Lucy, just give him a chance, okay? He's not a bad guy. It's not his fault Howie took that knife. He even asked me what time we'd be in front of the judge tomorrow. I think he's going to put up bail." He was? Lucy's feelings softened toward Dean until she realized that he didn't really care about Howard. He was just trying to win her over. Well, those tactics wouldn't work with her. "Like I already told you, Casey, I am not going to date Dean. Not now or ever." She hung up the phone, then sank back into her pillows, feeling deflated. She knew Casey Guthrie was not going to call her again. Their relationship, such as it had been, was officially over. And she'd never even had a chance to introduce him to her parents.

* * * Lucy's phone rang again eight hours later. This time it was her mother. "Honey. I have the best news." Lucy knew the opposite was likely to be true. She sat up in her bed and checked out the window. The California sun was smiling today. She'd take her neighbor's dog, Buster, for a run on the beach. Then she'd drop by the hospital to check on Howard before he was released and taken into police custody. Someone had to take an interest in that man before he ended up doing something really stupid. As if robbing someone by knife-point wasn't stupid enough. "I was speaking to Debbie Haskins tonight and she says that Dean needs a date for the Turner Charity Gala next Saturday." Her mother sounded breathless, as if she'd run straight from her conversation with Dean's mother, to the phone.

"I think you should call him honey. I have his number right here. Got a pen?" "Just a minute, Mom." Lucy reclined on her pillows again and stared up at the ceiling. For a while she amused herself by imagining her mother's reaction when she told her that Dean had already invited her to the charity event. And she'd refused. But she didn't really enjoy disappointing her mother, so she kept the events of the previous evening to herself. "Okay, Mom. Shoot." Her Mom rattled off the number, then, without pausing for breath, continued, "Debbie says Dean is looking to buy a house. You could take him around the neighborhood, honey. There's a beautiful ranch style bungalow just four blocks from here. It's a little pricey, but I got the impression that expense won't be an obstacle for Dean." Of course it wouldn't. Lucy rolled onto her side and wondered how she was going to end this dreadful conversation. Since she'd proven stubborn enough to go through with her plans to not only become a nurse, but to actually work in a hospital, she knew her mother's biggest hope now was that she would quit her job in order to get married and have children. She waited for a pause in her mother's soliloquy, then jumped in. "Okay, Mom, I've got to get going. Thanks for Dean's phone number." Not that she had any intention of using it. Even though, through some fluky surge of brain activity, she could still remember it. "Fine. We'll see you at Devon's engagement party on Sunday?" Oh, heck. She'd forgotten about that. But since she and Devon had gone to school together and taken riding lessons at the same stable for ten years, she could hardly bow out of that commitment. "I'll be there, Mom." Then Lucy hung up the phone before her mother could suggest she call Dean to invite him to that, as well.

* * * Howard was tucking into his luncheon Jell-O with enjoyment, when Lucy arrived at the hospital several hours later. During her run she'd been able to put yesterday evening into perspective. She really wasn't upset that her budding relationship with Casey had ended. She'd always known it wasn't going to amount to anything permanent. As for Dean Haskins, he would soon find another woman more suitable to his interests and lifestyle. Her mother would survive the disappointment. And Lucy would continue to enjoy the very rewarding and challenging life of working in the ER. She perched on the corner of Howard's bed. "I think we need to have a little chat." "Hello, Angel. I was hoping you'd come and visit me this morning." With a finger, Howard wiped a glob of purple gelatin from the corner of his mouth.

Lucy observed him objectively, trying to picture him clean-shaven, with a good haircut. Maybe even in a suit. He could be passably attractive, she decided. He was too thin, but with the right clothes that could work to his advantage. "You need a job, Howard. A real job." "Flippin' burgers doesn't pay enough for a family, sweetheart." She knew a learning disability had prevented him from earning a high school diploma. Realistically, she couldn't see him taking night classes to try and make up the deficit. "There's got to be something. Maybe you could start your own landscaping company." She'd seen the monthly bills her parents received. Those people had to be making good money. "No capital." "Right." This was so wrong. All Howard needed was one break. A decent job so he could support his family and feel proud about himself. When he tried, Howard could be quite personable. Maybe a position dealing with the public? Lucy was considering possible opportunities in her father's insurance business for Howard, when she realized someone else had entered the room and was standing behind her. A guest for one of the other patients in the room? A doctor or nurse? But no. Howard's face was flushed. His eyes shifted guiltily. "You need a job?" Lucy turned to see Dean in the doorway. As impeccable in jeans and a t-shirt as he'd been last night in his suit. And every bit as good looking.

Chapter Four

"Since we don't dare have a coffee together, how about we take a walk?" Dean said. "What's so risky about a cup of coffee?" Howard looked to Lucy for the answer. She winced at the reminder of her scatterbrained comment from last night. "It's a long story, Howard. I'll be back, later, okay? We really do need to make a plan for your future." Reluctantly she followed Dean out of the room. In the wide corridor, he attempted to put a hand to her elbow but she jerked away. Hands to hips, she faced off against him. "What's this about, Dean?"

"I have an idea that could help all of us. Including Howard Barker." He stepped aside as an elderly male patient was wheeled past, trailed by his anxious wife. "But I don't want to discuss this here." "Oh. Fine." She wanted this over with. And fast. But she had to admit a hospital corridor was not an ideal location for a conversation. Briskly, she headed for the exit, and once outside, pointed to a bench flanking the entrance. "Let's sit here." Dean settled just a few inches too close for her liking. As she shifted away, she couldn't help but notice, again, how nice he smelled. Even without the padding of a suit jacket, his shoulders were broad, his chest muscular and full. Also, his skin was tanned, not pasty-white as she would expect from someone who worked in an office all day. But why was she cataloguing the attributes of a man she had absolutely no interest in? She placed her hands primly on her lap. "So what's your idea?" "I help Howard make bail and give him a job. I'll even testify in his favor when it comes time for his trial. In exchange, you come to the Turner Charity Gala as my date." She couldn't speak at first. Then, "You're not serious." "It's a pretty simple deal. You can think of it as a business transaction if you like." "Or blackmail." "Come on, Lucy. That's a little harsh." "But accurate. Tell me, exactly what kind of job would you be offering Howard?" "I need someone to help with the administration of special projects. He'll be helping to organize functions of both a social and business nature. All under supervision, of course." That sounded like something Howard could do. He was a charmer when he wanted to be. "And the remuneration?" "Our basic starting salary, but he would be entitled to full benefits, including vested pension and medical." The medical would surely come in handy with young children. And maybe, if Howard proved himself, he could work his way up in the corporation. Having satisfied herself on that half the charity ball. "I don't understand who tried to rob you, just so I'll go always have this much trouble finding

of the bargain, Lucy now considered why you would offer a job to a man to this function with you. Do you a date?"

"Don't you remember my mother tying a piece of steak around my neck so the neighborhood dogs would play with me?" She had to laugh. Then shook her head. "But seriously, Dean. I'm not into Charity Balls and Gala Fundraisers. I won't be any fun at all, I'm afraid."

"But why? If you're so anxious to do good in the world…" "How does me spending a fortune on a dress and shoes, primping and preening for hours, then dining on gourmet food and dancing the night away, help anyone?" "You know how these things work. There's money from ticket sales, then in some cases, extra funds earned from the sale of silent auction items. All profits go the charity in question. Which in this case is the ALS Foundation." Dean was silent for a moment, then he asked. "Have you ever known anyone with that affliction?" "Yes." She recalled one patient in particular from her training days. The middle-aged woman had come into the ER in a panic after collapsing while doing laps at her gym. "My foot just went numb," she'd told Jackie Kellison, the more experienced nurse on duty with Lucy that night. Jackie had treated that patient so gently. She'd coaxed descriptions of other symptoms out of the woman and had done her best to be sympathetic. Privately, she'd told Lucy that she suspected the woman had amyotrophic lateral schlerosis. ALS, Lou Gehrig's disease, an ultimately fatal condition. Unfortunately, Jackie's unofficial diagnosis turned out to be correct. The woman had died the month before Lucy's graduation. About the same time as Jackie had taken an extended compassionate leave from the hospital following her husband's untimely death. From what, Lucy didn't know, though she had her suspicions. "ALS is a horrible disease, Dean. But I'd rather make a donation to the foundation than attend the Ball. That way all my money would be put to good use, not just a portion of it." "Logically, you have a valid point. But you have to consider human nature. Is it really so awful that people want to have a good time as well as help out a noble cause?" "But a Gala isn't my idea of a good time. Frankly, I'd rather go for a run on the beach. Or grab a beer at a casual bar. Or eat a good meal at a reasonably-priced restaurant." "Those all sound fun, too. But why not throw the occasional fancy party into the mix?" "You're not listening. I don't like those sorts of events." And she didn't like him, either, because he was the type of man who would go to these things all the time. "Maybe you've never had the right date before." Lucy dropped her head into her hands. The man was unrelenting. "I'm not going to be able to talk you out of this, am I?" "That depends. How badly do you want Howard to get this job?" Badly. How could she deny Howard the chance to turn his life around? Besides, they were talking about one evening here. Not such a huge sacrifice. "Okay, Dean. We've got a deal." "Thank you." Dean took one of her hands and squeezed it gently. "You

never know. You might actually have a good time." Oh, she didn't think so. Especially since she was going to have to spend her next day off work shopping for a suitable dress. On the plus side, though, her mother was going to be very happy.

* * *

Devon Shay's engagement party was being held in the backyard of her parent's home. The Shays lived just blocks away from the Caldwells and the Haskins. They belonged to the same golf and country club, skied at the same famous resort in Aspen, and had sent their children to the same, exclusive private school. Despite all these commonalities in their background, she and Devon had never been close friends. Lucy had felt out-of-touch with Devon, as she had with so many of the girls her age. Her parents had considered her a loner and a rebel, but Lucy didn't think either label applied. She'd simply never belonged in her former life. And she felt that same sense of isolation now, as she walked past groups of people she had known since she was a child. She recognized Wallace Voltz, a former mayor of Courage Bay and the sort of checkbook philanthropist that she despised. His wife, Abigail, was at his side, as she always was, even though she looked a little bored. Lucy empathized. She had nothing to say to any of these people either. "Lucy, darling! Your mother said you would be here. I'm so glad you decided to come." This was Devon's mother. The thin, overly blonde, overly tanned woman put her arm around Lucy and pecked at her cheek. "I can't believe this day has finally come." Lucy smiled, assuming Mrs. Shay was referring to her daughter's engagement and not Lucy's appearance at the party. "I'm very happy for her." "That's generous of you, dear." Mrs. Shay stepped back to examine Lucy's face. "Soon it will be your turn, don't you worry. But are you still working at that awful hospital?" Awful, Lucy knew, because it wasn't exclusive and private and outrageously expensive. She glanced around, seeking a diversion that would allow her to escape. She still had to talk to Devon, of course, and her parents. But after that, maybe she could slip away. A group of her friends from the hospital were planning to play beach volleyball later that evening. "Lucy. I hoped I would see you here." A man approached from her left, breaking into her conversation with Mrs. Shay, and giving the hostess the perfect opportunity to move on to the next group of guests. Of course, rescue would have to come in the form of

Dean Haskins. Just what she needed to complete her day of personal torture. Though, really, she should have anticipated that he would be here. He and Devon's brother had been in the same grade at school. "How lovely to see you." She looked past Dean — dressed in a linen suit with a powder blue shirt that drew out the color of his eyes — into the crowd. So many people. Why couldn't any of them have come to talk to her? She'd had days to mull over their pact and to regret how easily she'd caved in to his demands. Oh, she could put up with a charity gala for a night, that wasn't the problem. But she was not at all sure she could as easily withstand an entire evening in Dean's company. "Your sincerity leaves me breathless." He passed her a drink. "You look like you'd be having more fun in a dentist's chair. Maybe this will help." She gulped at the iced beverage, loaded with vodka, she was sure. "I'm surprised to see you here. I thought you avoided these sorts of affairs like the plague." "An ER nurse cannot avoid the plague. And the daughter of Alexis Caldwell cannot avoid a former schoolmate's engagement party. I'm sure it's my mother's subtle way of reminding me what she has planned for my future." Dean led her in the direction of the pool. A group of little girls in frothy summer dresses giggled around the diving stand. No one was swimming today, despite the heat. The pool had been subtly declared off-limits by a profusion of artificial decorative water lilies. "Does she have a groom in mind for you, as well?" "Yes. You. She's also chosen our house and decided how many kids we should have." He frowned. "You're kidding, right?" "Of course," she lied. She finished the drink, then placed the glass on the tray of a passing waiter. She paused for a moment, enjoying the light-headed buzz from too much alcohol consumed too quickly. "You're right. That did help." "Would you like another?" He grinned and raised his eyebrows suggestively, and Lucy felt as if something was tumbling inside of her. And then a commotion at the pool distracted her. There was a splash as one of the little girls fell into the water. Then a shriek from a woman on the other side of the pool. "Lindsay can't swim!"

Chapter Five

As often happened in an emergency situation, time seemed to slow as the stunned crowd of well-dressed guests watched the mound of taffeta and silk slowly sink to the bottom of the pool.

"Someone call 9-1-1," Lucy shouted, as she struggled with the clasp on her high-heeled sling-backs. She'd wanted to wear simple sandals to this thing, but she'd known how shocked and appalled her mother would have been, so she'd bowed to convention and dressed in these ridiculous shoes. Finally, she kicked them free, but someone else had already dived into the pool. As if in a grotesque dance, the water lilies rode the waves, moving to and fro, and up and down. The male form sliced through the water, down to where the young girl had settled in her water-soaked clothing. He would need help dragging the victim to the edge of the pool, Lucy realized. She glanced around frantically, but the obligatory pool safety equipment was nowhere in sight. "Is there a life preserver?" she shouted. Mr. Shay ran to a small shed covered with But before he returned, the man broke the girl's head out of the water with him. He the edge of the pool and Lucy fell on her

a trellis of climbing roses. surface, dragging the young began a one-armed stroke toward knees to help.

Dean, she realized with a start. She grasped one of the girl's arms. Someone else took the other and together they lifted the child to the deck. The dreadful silence was broken as someone — probably the mother — started to cry. "Why isn't she moving?" The child wasn't breathing. Lucy began artificial respiration, placing her warm mouth next to the child's cold, damp one. She watched the girl's chest lift with the infusion of air, then slowly sink. She counted out the seconds, then breathed into the girl again. Lindsay's pulse was slow, but at least she had one. After several anxious minutes, the girl began to cough. Lucy elevated her head so she could expel the water from her lungs. Only then did she notice Dean crouched beside her. He'd found blankets from somewhere and now he covered the young girl gently with one of them. "The ambulance is on its way." Dean placed a second blanket around Lucy's shoulders. She heard the sirens, almost collapsed with relief. "Thank God, you got her out so fast." "Is she okay? Is my baby okay?" Several women were holding the mother, offering comfort and soothing touches at the same time as they prevented her from getting in the way of the rescue efforts. "She's going to be fine," Lucy predicted, watching the color return to the young girl's cheeks. Dean had stepped away after placing the blanket on her shoulders. Now she found herself longing for the reassuring feel of his hands on her shoulders again. She glanced over her shoulder and saw him standing a few feet away, dripping wet in his elegant linen suit. "You look awful," she said. Which was not what she was thinking, at all.

* * *

On Monday morning, Lucy accompanied Howard to the office for his first day of work. Previously, she'd taken him shopping for a suit, new shoes and several white shirts and ties. She'd supervised his haircut and given him strict orders to be freshly showered and clean-shaven when she picked him up on the big day. Spruced up, Howard was almost handsome. The padded shoulders of the suit disguised his slight build and slightly sunken chest. The white shirt made him appear very clean cut. Only the myriad holes in his left ear revealed the possibility that he might be a man with a past. Dean's company, Focus Biotech, was on the fourteenth floor of a downtown high-rise. Lucy had always found the insurance company where her father worked ostentatiously elegant, but here the décor was streamlined and functional. The apple-green walls and a few decorative splashes of coral made it seem both cheerful and contemporary. Surprisingly, Dean wasn't dressed as formally as he'd been that night in the ER. He wore tailored slacks and a silk shift, rolled up at the sleeves and without a tie. The smile he gave Howard was welcoming. The one he gave Lucy was several degrees warmer. He nodded toward a chic-looking woman beside him. She was in her early forties, dressed — coincidentally? — in the company colors of apple green and coral. "This is Mary Bloomsbury, my executive assistant." "I'm so glad to welcome you aboard," Mary Bloomsbury said, shaking Howard's hand vigorously. "The Gala is on Saturday and we still don't have the silent auction organized. Do you think you could cold call a list of potential donors?" "I had a job doing phone solicitations, once," Howard offered. "Sounds like the perfect training." Mary whisked Howard out of the small boardroom where they'd been seated, leaving Lucy and Dean at opposite ends of the glossy table. "She seems very…efficient," Lucy finally said, when she grew too uncomfortable under Dean's unwavering stare. "I didn't realize your company was involved in the organization of the charity function. I assume that's the same one we're attending on Saturday?" "The Turner Charity Gala," Dean confirmed. I wonder if he'll expect me to dance with him? I wonder if he'll try to kiss me goodnight at the end of the evening? She'd been dreading the event for so long, Lucy couldn't believe she was thinking this way. As if this were a normal date. And Dean was a man she could be seriously attracted to. "I should go." She stood so quickly, she bumped her thighs into the table. She swallowed a yelp of pain and struggled to keep her expression composed. "You'll let me know how Howard works out?"

"I will." Dean met her at the door, blocking her exit with an arm stretched across the doorway. She glanced at him puzzled. "I was wondering if you would consider a pre-date date -- maybe dinner tonight on the patio at the Courage Bay Bar and Grill, followed by a walk on the beach?" Two of her favorite things. He was doing this on purpose. Trying to charm her. Why, why, why, did this man who could have his pick of women seem so intent on her? "I work evenings all this week. But I do look forward to Saturday night." She sounded like her mother the way she said that, so prim and proper. Lucy felt like smacking something. Maybe even Dean. Instead, she balled her hands tightly. "If you would just move your arm, I'll be —" Dean's kiss came out of nowhere. Yet it was too gentle to be an assault. She felt the warm press of his mouth, smelled the clean, manly scent of his skin, put her hand against the firm muscles of his chest. Instinct guided her to part her lips, to angle her head. She felt that tumbling in her chest again. And this time, random pictures tumbled in her brain, too. She saw Dean pulling that girl out of the water. Saw him struggling to get off the gurney in the ER. Saw him standing across the bar watching her with Casey and looking like he wanted to rip the other man into shreds. Oh, no. How was this possible? She was falling for him. She pulled herself out of his embrace and dashed out the door. "Cinderella!" he called, mocking her, no doubt, but she ignored him as she bee-lined through reception and headed for the stairwell. Fourteen flights down, and by the time she'd found her car, her heart rate was totally out of control. "It's the stairs," she told herself. But she knew that simply was not true.

Chapter Six

"Honey, I am so glad you came to your senses about Richard." Alexis Caldwell went to a drawer in her huge walk-in closet and pulled out a rectangular, leather box. Lucy, who had let her mother talk her into getting ready for the Gala at the family home, was not going to be talked into this. "Oh, no, Mom. I am not going to wear the family heirlooms tonight. And his name is Dean. Not Richard." Lucy ran her hands over her pantyhose, searching for runs. But there were no blemishes in the finely spun nylon that felt like silk to the touch.

She let the hem of her crimson gown fall to the ground. The slit on the side came to mid-thigh. Not too daring for the Jacaranda Heights crowd, she hoped. "That slit should be a few inches higher." Her mother eyed the shoes sitting at the ready by the door. "Those heels aren't very high, Lucy. Have you forgotten how tall Richard is?" In other words, how short she was? "I remember Dean's height quite well, thanks, Mom." Did she ever. He'd had to stoop in order to kiss her. If they were going to do that for any length of time, they'd better be sitting down next time. Or better yet lying down in bed. Whoa. What was she thinking? "I wish you wouldn't call him that. Richard sounds so much more distinguished." Alexis put her hands on Lucy's shoulders. "Now sit for a minute. I can't help you when you're dashing around." Virtually pushed into a chair, Lucy had no choice but to sit. "I'm ready, Mom. I don't need any — " Cold metal landed against her skin. Lucy felt the weight of the necklace the way a horse must feel the gentle imprisonment of the bridle. "It looks perfect with that dress." Her mother stood back, her eyes locked on Lucy's neckline. Lucy hooked a finger under the gold and diamond studded chain. "I told you I didn't want to wear this." "But it looks so wonderful on you. And what is the good of your grandmother's necklace just sitting in a box being admired by nobody?" "Why don't you wear it, then? You usually do." Her mother was already dressed for the evening, in a Vera Wang black silk that shaved off ten pounds as well as ten years. "Like it or not Lucy, all eyes will be on you tonight. You might as well look your best." This was about impressing Dean, Lucy knew. Her mother's way of pointing out to her prospective son-in-law, that while Lucy might be a lowly trauma nurse at the local hospital, she did come from a privileged background. And therefore was a worthy candidate in the competition to become Mrs. Richard Dean Haskins the Third. "This is worth a lot of money, Mom. What if I lose it? What if — ?" "Don't make excuses. I've worn that necklace dozens of times and never had a problem. There's a safety latch, of course. And the necklace is insured." She pulled her daughter out of the chair and pushed her in front of the full-length mirror at the center of the closet. Lucy had to admit the necklace looked good. She twisted a little to one side, then the other. The whole package looked good. "Here." Her mother had been rummaging in her closet. "Try these shoes, instead."

It was just Lucy's luck that her feet were the same size as her mother's. She slipped on the red sandals and immediately saw that they were perfect. Oh, heck. If she was giving in on the necklace, she might as well go for the shoe-upgrade as well. Ten minutes later the doorbell rang. That would be Dean. Lucy's heart was pounding much too loudly as she grabbed her cashmere shawl from the bed. "Well, Mom. Do I pass muster." Finally Alexis managed to smile. "You look stunning. Now take a deep breath. Your father will open the door. A lady never rushes."

* * *

When Lucy appeared at the doorway to her father's study, Dean quickly stood up. She looked stunning. An absolute vision. In a way the transformation was almost too much. Where was the strong-willed, practical, yet soft-hearted woman he'd been transfixed by in the ER trauma room just two weeks ago? In her red dress and jewels, Lucy seemed like the very sort of person she claimed to despise. A pretty, wealthy socialite, looking to make a smart marriage. On the way out the front steps, she clutched his arm. "Can I hold on while we go down the steps? Mom made me wear these shoes. Do you think we could swing by my apartment for my hospital loafers?" Dean grinned at her, only too glad to hold her tight. Yeah, this was his Lucy, all right. His Lucy. Possessive thoughts for this early in the game. But Dean knew she was going to be the one. He just knew it. In his car, Lucy found the tickets for the event sitting on the dash. She picked them up and looked them over. "Why is this called the Turner Charity Gala?" "Jake Turner was a friend of mine." Dean shoulder checked, then pulled out to the street and headed downtown. "I met him when I was on the board of the ALS Foundation in L.A." "You say was." Lucy's voice was softly compassionate. "Did he — ?" "He had just been diagnosed with Lou Gehrig's disease when we were introduced. He was only twenty-five when the first symptoms hit. He was training for the Boston marathon. He'd run other marathons, but he had his sights set on the Boston. Then the day before the race, he stepped from the bus to the sidewalk and fell. Apparently this wasn't the first time his leg had suddenly given out on him. He went to see his doctor and was immediately sent for tests." "Probably an MRI and an electromyogram." "Yes." Of course, she would know the routine. She was trained in this stuff. To him, it had all been new. He'd been overwhelmed when he'd first been voted to the Board of the Foundation. But Jake had been so happy to

help. To explain, with first-hand-knowledge, exactly what a diagnosis of ALS meant to a person. "Did Jake ever get to run the Boston Marathon?" "No. There was a time when I felt really bad about that. But finally I came to believe Jake when he insisted the marathon didn't matter anymore. In the time he had left he was able to help so many others with ALS." And he'd helped others who didn't have the disease, too. "Until I met Jake, I didn't appreciate my life. I saw each day as a right, not as the gift it really is." "When did Jake die?" "Last year." By the time the disease had progressed to the final stages, Dean and Jake had been very close friends. Dean had gone to visit Jake almost every day toward the end. His passing had left an enormous empty space, not only in Dean's timetable, but in his soul. In the midst of that emotional void, Dean had realized that something was missing in his life. He'd decided to return home. To spend more time with his parents. To look for a woman who would understand what Jake had meant to him. And who would therefore also understand why Dean's work was so important. "So this fundraiser was organized by you? In memory of your friend?" If possible, Lucy's voice was even more gentle. He felt her hand touch his shoulder after he nodded. "Jake's mother is giving a speech tonight. Wait until you meet her. She's really amazing." Lucy didn't say anything. At the next red light, he tried to read her expression as she sat, so still and quiet beside him. "You haven't said a word in the past five minutes. Are you all right?" "I'm fine, Dean. Just thinking." A tear glistened at the corner of her eye. Dean wanted to wipe it away. But he wasn't sorry she was crying. That Jake's story had moved her was only more evidence that Lucy was exactly the sort of woman he'd been looking for. If he could only convince Lucy of that.

* * *

After their conversation on the way to the Gala, Lucy was afraid she'd been wrong about Dean. He might run a successful corporation, but he wasn't just after profits and efficiencies and making a buck for himself and his shareholders. He cared about people. And in his own way, he was helping those less fortunate than himself. And now, after the first hour at the Gala, Lucy was afraid she'd been wrong about herself, too. She'd almost made a religion out of hating society events like this one. So why was she having such a good time? First she and Dean had greeted guests in the Grand Avenue Hall that led

to the Crystal Ballroom where dinner and dancing would be held later. They'd sipped champagne and spoken to at least a hundred different people — many of them from the same Country Club as her parents — and she'd enjoyed herself. She'd enjoyed the chitchat, and heaven help her, she'd also enjoyed all the admiring glances, especially those from Dean. He kept her at his elbow the entire time, continually touching her on the small of her back, or her arm, or sometimes her shoulder. She loved those little touches, and she loved the warmth in his smile. In fact, if she didn't know better — "I think most of the guests have arrived by now," Dean said. "Want to check out the silent auction items?" She nodded, yes, knowing she didn't care what she did as long as she was with Dean. The items that had been donated for the auction were being held in a separate room that opened off the hallway to the washrooms. Howard Barker was here, dressed in the suit she'd purchased for him, keeping an eye on the proceeds. "Hey, Howard. How's the new job?" Howard looked up from his clipboard, where he was checking some sort of list. "It's going very well. We've already got some brisk action with the bidding. I've got to thank you, nurse, for all you've done for me." "Call me, Lucy, please, and you're very welcome. I'm just thrilled that your job is working out." This night was turning out to be perfect. Just perfect. A woman in her fifties began to brush past, then paused. "Lucy Caldwell, is that you? Your mother told me you would be here. But look at how gorgeous you are. And you're wearing your grandmother's necklace. I'm surprised Alexis took it out of the vault, but it does look wonderful with your dress." Howard made a discrete exit as he continued to work down the list on his clipboard, and after making a polite reply to the woman, Dean eased Lucy closer to the entrance. Feeling a tap on her bare shoulder, Lucy turned and was surprised to see Casey Guthrie, looking sexy, if slightly disheveled in what was obviously a rented tux. "Well, well, Lucy. Why didn't you wear that dress when you were dating me? I never would have let you go so easily."

Chapter Seven

Casey's admiring grin added extra voltage to the compliment, but Lucy found herself suddenly impervious to his charm. "Well, you never wore that tux, either," she teased him back. She was relieved when he and Dean shook hands easily, with no sign of rivalry between them.

"Glad you could make it," Dean said. "Hey, it's a good cause." Then, as a beautiful brunette stepped out from the washroom, "There's my date. Since she bought our tickets, I'd better be attentive." He winked, then moved purposefully toward the woman. Lucy smiled as she watched him leave, then noticed Dean observing her closely. "Any regrets about him?" "Casey?" She shook her head. "None at all. Unfortunately." Dean looked worried. "Why do you say that?" "Just, it would have been so much fun to see Mom and Dad's face when they found out I was going to marry a motorcycle cop." Dean shook his head. "You live to make them crazy, don't you?" "No. They live to make me crazy." "I'm sorry to hear that." "Why?" "Something tells me you're not going to be too pleased when you see who's sitting at our table."

* * *

He'd done it to be sweet, Lucy knew. But sitting at the same table as her parents was not her idea of fun. The meal went better than she expected, though. Mostly because Dean made such an effort to be charming. He even let her mother call him Richard. He really was something. Also at their table was Beatrice Turner, Jake's mother. She was in her sixties, a big woman with a lovely smile, and a natural mothering instinct. It was clear to see that she adored Dean. "He visits me every week," she told Lucy. They were sitting side-by-side and Beatrice kept offering her the basket of rolls, as if she intended to fatten her up. "I don't know what I'd do without him." After hearing the way Dean had spoken about Jake, Lucy wasn't surprised that he would make the weekly drive to L.A. "Have some butter with that," Beatrice said, when Lucy finally selected a whole wheat bun from the selection. "Thank you. What do you and Dean like to talk about during your visits?"

"Mostly Jake. I don't know how I would have survived this past year without Dean. My husband is gone and we didn't have any other children. I always pictured spending my old age looking after a couple of sweet grandchildren…" As desserts and coffees were brought to the tables, Dean rose to say a few words to the crowd. "Thank you for being here tonight. It means so much to the ALS Foundation of Courage Bay. And it means a lot to me. And to Jake Turner's mother. But more on that later." His gaze scanned the breadth of the ballroom, then he looked directly at Lucy. "Courage Bay is a town founded on a legacy of bravery. I'm sure most of you in this room know the story — how a group of seamen aboard a 21-gun Sloop-of-War called the Ranger were rescued after a terrible storm by the local Indians. Those men were our forefathers and there's no denying that they had guts." He paused, to take the measure of the room. "Every time I see another man, or woman, or child, who's been diagnosed with ALS, I can't help but think that there are many kinds of bravery in this world. And here's a very special woman to tell you a very special story that will demonstrate just what I mean by this." Beatrice took the floor then, and Dean stayed at her side as a picture of her son was flashed onto the projection screen at the front of the room. Jake was in his running gear. Tanned and lean, he was the picture of health. "This is my son one week before his diagnosis," Beatrice said. Then another image flashed onto the screen. One of a shriveled man in a wheelchair, with thin gray hair and pale, sickly skin. "My son, one year later." The whole room fell silent. Lucy used her napkin to dab at tears that were beginning to fall. For the next ten minutes, Beatrice detailed the way her son had used the time that he'd had left to counsel and support others with the same disease. He'd worked tirelessly at fundraising efforts for the L.A. Foundation and had developed a close friendship with Dean Haskins, whose company Focus Biotech, was involved in the regenerative research that many hoped would one day lead to a cure for ALS. I didn't know that. Why had it never occurred to her to ask Dean exactly what business he was in? When Beatrice concluded her short talk, the audience exploded into applause. Lucy got to her feet just as Dean was settling Beatrice back into her chair. "You okay?" he asked quietly. She nodded, not able to talk for fear of crying even harder. She hurried to the washroom, where she washed away the tears. But it was no use. New ones kept falling in their place. She thought of Jake Turner, and a life cut tragically short. And she thought of Beatrice, who would never bounce a grandbaby on her knees.

And mostly, she thought of Dean, who had tried to help these people. And was trying to help so many others, in similar situations. I've been such a fool. Finally, she regained control of her emotions. She knew what she had to do now. She had to stand by Dean for the rest of this evening and make him proud. And when it was over, when the two of them were finally alone, she would apologize for every snotty thing she'd ever said to him. As she emerged from the washroom, she noticed Howard rush by with his clipboard. He paused when he noticed her. "Lucy. Are you having a good time?" She hardly knew what to say. But she guessed, from his tense body language and thin, tight smile, that Howard was not. "Is everything okay?" "There's a problem with the silent auction," he blurted out. "I'm afraid it's going to cost me my job." Lucy could hear Dean introducing a new speaker in the ballroom. She guessed she wouldn't be missed for the next few minutes. "Can I help?" "Would you?" She followed Howard into the side room where the tables of auction goodies were laid out. Most were gift certificates offering dinners for four, vacation weekends, spa treatments and tickets for sporting events. Glancing around, it seemed that most of the sheets were almost filled with bids. "Everything looks okay to me, Howard. What's the —" He slammed the door shut. Then, from the breast pocket of his suit suit that she had purchased for him — he withdrew a knife.

— the

Lucy recognized the weapon. It was the same type as the one that Rebecca Browne had removed from Howard's chest two weeks ago in the ER. "What are you doing, Howard? You must be insane to have brought that here!" "Not insane, Lucy. Just smart." As he started moving toward her, Lucy felt like an actor who'd been thrown into a scene without a script. "Stop it, Howard. You're starting to scare me. Put that knife away and let's —" "No." Lucy swung around, but there was nowhere to run. Behind her was a linen-covered table with the artistically displayed auction items. And beyond that, a wall. There were no windows in this room. No openings at all, except for the one door. And Howard had that exit all too effectively blocked. She winced as he grabbed her arm roughly.

"Give me the necklace, Lucy." She'd forgotten she was wearing it, but suddenly his actions made perfect, terrible, sense. She put a hand to her throat and felt the heavy gold. "Oh, Howard." Disappointment crushed down on her, outweighing any concern about losing her grandmother's necklace or even fear for her personal safety. "Please tell me you aren't doing this." Howard placed his knife against her ribcage. With his other hand, he reached for her throat. She felt his fingers clutch at the gold, then a sudden burning pain as he tried to wrench the jewels from her neck. The clasp, as her mother had assured her, was strong and didn't give. Howard cursed. "Why are you doing this?" Lucy asked again. "I got you a job. This was supposed to be a clean start for you. Don't you see, Howard? You're jeopardizing everything!" "Don't be a fool! This" — he yanked, again, on her necklace — "is my chance for a future. It may be a pretty bauble to you, but to me it represents years and years of slaving away at your boyfriend's stupid company. Me and my family are going to be set for good now." He let go of the necklace, then jabbed the knife harder against her body. "Take it off, Angel. This is the last favor I'll ever ask of you." Lucy stared into his eyes, trying by the force of her willpower to convince him that he was doing the wrong thing. But in his face she saw no evidence of guilt. No sign that he felt bad for robbing someone who had only tried to help him. "Take that knife away," she said coldly. "You can have the necklace, Howard. But if you think this is the answer to the problems in your life you are so, so wrong." As she undid the clasp with fingers that were surprisingly steady, she felt a twinge of sadness. This necklace was not a favorite of hers, but it had been in the family a long time and she knew her mother would miss it. And maybe she would, too, in time, if she ever had a daughter… But no sense in thinking about that. She wasn't going to risk getting cut by Howard's knife for the sake of a necklace, no matter how valuable. "Here." She dropped it into his hand, then pushed him away. "Now leave, Howard. I pray to God I never see you again." Yet, somehow, she guessed that she would. Probably in the ER. The money from that necklace wouldn't last him a year before he was out on the streets again. Howard had dropped the necklace into his pocket and now he gazed at the closed door uneasily. "I'll need some time to get away." "What do you want me to do? Count to ten before I tell anyone what happened?"

Lucy was sorry she'd allowed herself to mouth off, when Howard grabbed some of the linens off the tables and used them to tie her hands behind her back and her ankles together. She fought him, hard, but though he was skinny, he was definitely stronger than her. When she started to scream, he stuffed yet another cloth into her mouth and shoved her down. Lucy lay helpless on the floor and watched as he ran for the door. Just before he could make his escape, a voice called out from the corridor. "Lucy? Are you in there? Damn it, why is this door locked?" She hadn't seen Howard lock it. He must have been given a key as part of his job. "Howard?" Dean called next. He swore more eloquently this time. "What the hell is going on?" A commotion broke out in the hall. It sounded like more people had joined Dean. Several conversations began at once, but one voice, Dean's voice, sounded above them all. "I need the hotel manager. Now!" With his body pressed against the door, Howard's face turned absolutely white. Now Lucy watched as he scanned the room as she had done earlier, looking for a second exit. There was none. To her surprise, Howard started for her, his knife gripped menacingly at hand. For the first time she felt the mind-numbing clutch of terror. He yanked her up from the floor, then positioned her like a shield between himself and the door, his body pressed uncomfortably close to hers. She heard the rasp of his breath in her ear. Smelled the tang of his perspiration. Felt the rapid rhythm of his respirations against her back. There were more noises from the hallway. A brief conversation. Then the sound of a key being inserted into a lock. The door swung open and first Dean, then a man in a suit who was probably the hotel manager burst inside. Lucy felt the cold press of sharp metal against her throat. "Don't come any closer," Howard said. "Or she's gone."

Chapter Eight

Dean froze in the doorway, unable to believe the scene in front of him. Why was Howard holding a knife to Lucy's throat? Then he noticed her necklace was missing. The bastard! The bastard! After all Lucy had done for him, this was how he repaid her? Dean wanted to fly across the room and pummel the loser with his fists. But there was the knife to contend with. The knife currently pressed against Lucy's very fragile, delicate neck.

Suddenly Casey Guthrie materialized at Dean's side. "Bloody hell," he muttered, scoping out the situation in one glance. He turned to the hotel manager and said, "Get everyone out of here." "Yes, sir." More quietly, Casey added, "And for God's sake, make sure someone has called the police." "Of course." The manager slipped back into the corridor. "Please, people, let's return to the ballroom. We have a —" The manager's next words were cut off as Casey grabbed hold of Dean's arm. "You need to get out of here, too," he said. Dean looked at him as if he was speaking in another language. "We have to wait for back-up," Casey added. "Right." Dean relaxed as if he meant to do exactly as the cop had asked. But of course, it wasn't possible. He couldn't leave Lucy alone in that room with that madman. Yanking out of Casey's hold, Dean dashed inside, then closed the door behind him. He stared into Howard's eyes, focusing his anger. "All she did was try to help you, Barker. Let her go. If you want a hostage, take me." He held out his arms, wrists upturned. "Untie her and take me instead." He took a step into the room, then stopped as Lucy made a startled noise from the back of her throat. Dean saw a line of blood rise on her shoulder. He'd cut her! "You bastard." "Stay back or I'll slice her deeper next time." Dean struggled to rein in his frustration and rage. "Lucy, are you okay?" He could tell from her eyes that she was feeling some pain, but she continued to hold her head defiantly high. Once more her captor brought the knife to her throat. This time the blade was red with her blood. Lucy made another noise at the back of her throat, more anger than fear, Dean thought. He glanced behind himself as the door opened a crack. "What's going on in there?" Casey Guthrie made an attempt to slide inside. "Stay out!" Howard shouted. "I'll kill her if I see your face again!" Casey backed out, the door closed. Dean realized this was all up to him now. But what could he do? He felt so helpless. Was Howard calm enough to listen to reason? "Howard, I'm sure Lucy doesn't care about the necklace. Take it. Consider it a gift. I swear she won't report the loss. Just leave her be." He saw the flash of indecision cross Barker's face. The guy was a petty criminal. A coward, motivated by greed. All he really wanted was to get out of here with his stash. Dean decided to up the ante. "I've got some money. A gold watch." Dean emptied his wallet and took off

the watch, tossing them at Barker's feet. "You were after these the other night. Well, take them." Hunger flickered in Howard's eyes as he ogled the additional treasure on the floor. A watch worth several thousand dollars. An additional thousand in cash, which Dean had planned to use for the auction. After a cautious glance in Dean's direction, Barker leaned over to scoop them up. In order to reach, the thief had to lift the knife from Lucy's throat and stretch past her. Dean's instincts told him it was now or never. He threw a flying tackle, catching Howard's knife in his thigh, but he didn't care. The burning pain was only more incentive for him to tear this man apart. He threw a punch to Barker's miserable face, then another, and another. Lucy, tied and helpless, fell to the floor beside them. He longed to look after her, but first he had to make sure this man was no longer a threat. Howard was fighting back, with everything he had, and Dean took a few hits himself, before he knocked the wind out of the guy with a well placed shot into his gut. As Howard folded at the waist, Dean swept his feet out from under him, then wrenched the knife out of his own leg. It hurt like hell. Blood poured to the carpeted floor. Still, he had the advantage now. Bringing the blade to Howard's scrawny neck, Dean pressed a shade harder than necessary and drew blood. "Lucy." Dean struggled to catch his breath, while making sure he kept a firm grip on Howard. "Can you roll closer? I'll try to undo those knots." Her eyes were gleaming as she nodded with comprehension. Tears of relief? Or fear? A banging at the door distracted them both. "Our back-up is here!" Casey shouted. "We've got the entire hotel surrounded." "It's okay," Dean hollered back. "The situation is under control. Come on in." He checked Lucy again, and this time there could be no doubt what he saw in her eyes. Gratitude. And love. Or was that last emotion just wishful thinking on his part?

* * *

"This is all my fault," Lucy said. She'd brought Dean to the ER and now she squeezed his hand as Dr. Browne began to suture the gash in his leg. Poor Rachel could hardly believe that she was cleaning up after Howard Barker's handiwork only two weeks since the last incident. At least there wouldn't be any more problems for the next few years. Howard was currently in custody and no one would put up bail for him this

time. "Not true, Lucy." Dean was stretched out on the operating table, his formerly elegant tuxedo slacks torn and bloody on the ER floor. "I forced you to hire him. I was such a naïve fool." "I don't agree. Just because it didn't work out, doesn't mean you were wrong to want to help him. And it doesn't mean you shouldn't try to help someone else, the next time you get the chance." The doctor tied off the last suture. "Okay, we're finished here. I don't think you'll have much of a scar." "Thanks, Doctor." "No problem. Don't forget to fill that prescription. Both of you. We don't want any nasty infections." "I'll take care of it," Lucy promised, touching the bandage the doctor had applied to the back of her arm. At least her wound hadn't needed stitches. Dean put his trousers back on, and Lucy couldn't help but laugh. "If you could just see yourself." "I'm not walking out this door in my boxer shorts." He held out his arm. "Coming?" Dean's limp was slight as they made their way down the corridor together. "I'm pretty amazed by your attitude toward this whole thing," Lucy admitted. "And I never did get a chance to tell you how impressed I was with the Gala. You really are an incredible man." "Beatrice Turner is something else isn't she?" "You are something else." "That's funny. I feel the exact same about you. " They stepped outside into a perfect, warm, California night. Lucy turned to Dean, wondering what would happen now. Since she'd driven here, she supposed she could drop Dean home, then go to her own apartment. But that plan held little appeal. Dean seemed happy to stand in the shadows for now. She let him draw her closer. "I adore you, Lucy. You know that, don't you?" "I'm pretty crazy about you, too." She loved the way he was looking at her. Tenderly, hungrily, possessively. "You were amazing tonight. You stood right up to Howard. Didn't show a trace of fear." "I felt it, though. How about you?" She'd never seen a tackle from a distance like that before. He'd been like Superman, flying across the room so fast Howard hadn't been able to pull back in time.

"I was terrified he would hurt you." Dean kissed her then. Sweetly and thoroughly. After a few minutes, he held her head to his chest. "Do you remember what you told me about the coffee in Courage Bay? She flushed. "I remember." "You said it had the tendency to make people do wild and impetuous things." "Yes, I did say that." "Well, do you think we could have some of that coffee tonight?" Of course, she knew what he was really asking. "I have some in my apartment. If you really are interested… " "Oh, I'm definitely interested. In fact, before this night is over I'm afraid I'm going to do something really crazy." "Such as… ?" "Ask you to marry me." Lucy tried to remember why she'd ever thought being Dean Haskins' wife would be a bad idea. She couldn't come up with a single reason. "I'm going to want kids, Dean. At least three." "That works for me." "And Beatrice Turner will be their honorary grandmother." Dean pulled her so tight she could hardly breathe. "I'm afraid I'll have to change my plans then." She drew back with mild panic. "What do you mean?" "I can't wait until later. I have to ask now. Will you marry me, Lucy Caldwell?" Joy crept over her slowly and she closed her eyes to savor the feeling. "Oh yes, I will marry you." She had another thought. A slightly deflating one. "My parents are going to be so pleased." "I could start driving a motorcycle. Maybe get a tattoo, too, if that would help," Dean offered. She brightened. "We could get matching ones. Want to do it tonight?" Dean wrapped one arm around her waist. Kissed her. Paused. "You promised me coffee, remember?" "Ah, yes." She took his arm and led him to her car.

The End