To my agent, Evan Marshall. It’s hard to believe we’ve been together over ten years. Thank you for your ongoing support, encouragement and counsel.

      Many thanks to Dr. Steve Goldberg and his wife Kristi for their help with medical research.

       The information you provided was invaluable.

      Contents

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      Chapter Thirteen

      Chapter Fourteen

      Epilogue

      Bonus Features

      One

      “You’ve got it all now,” Linda Clark decided as she appraised her brother.

      “Just wait till those nurses get a gander at you,” Stacey agreed, her smile as wide as her sister’s.

      Dr. Peter Clark swiftly closed his office door, hoping no one had heard. “Cool it, you two,” he demanded in a stern voice as he strode to his desk, wondering how long this visit was going to last. He had an appointment in fifteen minutes. His sisters weren’t in awe of him as some of his patients were, so it might be hard to kick them out. He loved them dearly but sometimes…

      “I don’t know why I let you dress me like a mannequin,” he grumbled. He was still not sure the navy tweed blazer was something he would have chosen on his own. He definitely wouldn’t have bought the silk shirt and the patterned designer tie.

      “You turned thirty-nine yesterday, and you wouldn’t even let us give you a party. The least we could do is spruce you up a bit,” Linda teased, brushing her dark brown hair away from her face. “Now tall, dark and handsome really applies. I like the new haircut, and we didn’t even have anything to do with that.”

      “My regular barber was out of town.”

      A laugh came from Stacey’s direction. “Thank goodness! The only thing we could add now is color contacts to make your eyes a little greener.”

      He’d had enough. They’d taken him to lunch and then accompanied him to a men’s store to pick up his tuxedo for Friday night. Despite his protests, they’d insisted on buying him a blazer, shirt and tie as birthday gifts, convincing the store manager to have them pressed so he could wear the outfit back to the office. His usual routine wasn’t as frivolous, not by a long shot. Most days he was in the hospital or in surgery from dawn to dusk. This venture into the lighter side of life just didn’t fit him any more than some of those blazers he’d tried on.

      He deliberately checked his watch. “I have an appointment in ten minutes.”

      “We’re not leaving until you assure us you’ll show up on Friday night.”

      Counting to five, he tried to keep the impatience from his voice. “You talked me into the bachelor auction because it’s for a good cause. I never go back on my word. Not even if that means I have to endure the humiliation of standing on a runway and having women bid on me. Now, as I said…”

      Linda sighed. “Your life is much too serious. I couldn’t stand doing what you do. A pediatric neurosurgeon holds too much power in his hands. How do you handle that responsibility?”

      “Very carefully,” he replied seriously.

      Nothing meant more to him than his work and the kids he treated. In fact there was one right now who was breaking his heart. The bachelor auction would be raising money for high-tech equipment for the pediatrics wing to help children like Celeste. That was the only reason he’d agreed to be a part of it. That, and the fact that the wing had been built as a memorial to his mother. If only there was someone like his mom to help with his little patient. She needed loving care as much as she needed high-tech equipment and surgery—maybe even more.

      There was a knock on his office door and Katrina, his receptionist, poked her head inside. His office would be chaos without her. He was in partnership with two other neurosurgeons and she made sure the organization of their schedules and appointments didn’t interfere with the work they did. She was a petite dynamo in her forties with short-cropped, curly black hair, a round face and an impish smile.

      “Dr. Violet Fortune is here. I didn’t think you’d want to keep her waiting.”

      Linda’s brows arched under her dark bangs. Stacey’s mouth rounded as she digested the Fortune name.

      “A Fortune coming to see you? What’s all that about?” Linda asked. Then, as if a lightbulb went on in her head, she snapped her fingers. “Oh, I get it. Violet Fortune’s a neurologist with a reputation almost as good as yours. Maybe she came all the way