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      To Robert Magnus Johnson, who took time out from “the law stuff” to answer my questions

      about the Servicemen’s Group Life Insurance.

      And you thought I was joking about dedicating

      this book to you. Thanks for your help, Bob.

      Chapter One

      She would beg, borrow, lie, cheat or steal for her child.

      Courtney Albright knew what she had to do was one notch down from all of the above, but for her it was worse in some ways. She needed a favor from a man she had no reason to trust. Dr. David Wilder, genius plastic surgeon, lousy family guy. She supposed it made sense that a man empty and hollow enough to ignore and neglect the people who loved him would dedicate himself to enhancing outer beauty.

      The problem was she’d just had an accident with her daughter in the car. Janie’s face was broken and the doctors here in Walnut River were saying they didn’t have the specialized skills she needed. David Wilder did and he’d agreed to a consult. It was a favor and Courtney didn’t trust favors. Especially from men.

      But her little girl was lying in a hospital bed with half her face covered in gauze bandages and fallout from a favor was a small price to pay for her little girl’s health. So where was he? What was taking so long? Maybe he wouldn’t show up.

      With every ounce of willpower she possessed, Courtney held back the sob that pushed up from deep inside and lodged in her throat. Tears wouldn’t help—they never had and never would. Especially not now. To get through this crisis, her six-year-old needed strength, not a mother who ran away. Hysterics would be like running away, and she couldn’t give in to that. Her own mother had just taken off without a word. Courtney had had her father, such as he was. But Janie’s father was dead. Janie only had her and she’d do her best not to let her baby down.

      At least not again.

      The accident was bad enough. And if she could, she would trade places with Janie in a heartbeat. Courtney had a bump on the head and a broken wrist, but that was nothing compared to what her little girl was suffering. Courtney had refused to let them admit her as a patient. She’d insisted they let her be with Janie. Hospitals were scary. She worked here, but not in patient care.

      “Mrs. Albright?”

      At the sound of the deep voice, Courtney glanced over her shoulder. It was him—David Wilder. He was really here and, if possible, more handsome than the one and only time she’d seen him. She shuddered with relief although it shamed her. She hated needing something from him or anyone else. But she’d have hated it more if he’d blown her off.

      “You’re here. I didn’t think you’d…” She pressed her lips together, cutting off what she’d been about to say. “Thank you for coming, Dr. Wilder.”

      “You know me?” he asked.

      “I saw you at your father’s funeral.”

      James Wilder had died of a heart attack not quite two months ago and Courtney still missed him. He was the only man she’d ever known who had been kind to others without expecting anything in return.

      “There were a lot of people there.” David frowned as if he was thinking back.

      He was a famous Beverly Hills plastic surgeon to the stars so there had been a lot of talk about him that day. About him in the tabloids, linked to A-list movie actresses. About him featured on TV gossip shows in regard to cosmetic procedures on models. Him dating a bevy of beautiful, high-profile women for about a minute until he moved on.

      The Dr. David Wilder could be in the movies himself. Dark hair meticulously mussed, vivid blue eyes. Square jaw with some serious scruff which was how the “in” celebrity males accessorized these days, though he wore it better than most. A battered leather jacket fitted his broad shoulders and gave him a bad-boy-biker look along with worn jeans that hugged his lean hips and muscular thighs. He looked like the guy next door—the good-looking guy next door.

      Even if he didn’t live on the other side of the country, their paths would never cross because they didn’t travel in the same social circles. He had no reason to remember the unremarkable nobody who ran the hospital gift shop. She’d lived in Walnut River for over six years and had never laid eyes on him until his father’s funeral.

      “I wouldn’t expect you to remember me,” she said.

      “Then you’d be wrong, Mrs. Albright. About remembering you, I mean.”

      His smile was friendly and attractive and she felt it go straight through her even as she wanted to ask how that bedside manner was working for him. But she had to give him points for showing up.

      “Thank you for coming,” she said again.

      “You sound surprised.” The smile disappeared.

      “Ella said you were at the airport in New York on your way back to California. I just— I was afraid— Walnut River is so far out of your way that I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

      Boy, was she wrong. But it didn’t make sense in her frame of reference. On the spur of the moment a successful, busy plastic surgeon came all this way to see a patient he didn’t know? And so fast. Although it felt like a lifetime, the accident was only a few hours ago.

      “As it happens, I was in New York for a plastics symposium when my sister called. I came as quickly as I could.”

      “Out