Allen's expression indicated that he was still far from turning into a believer. "Okay, why are you doing it for the kid? He's nothing to you."

Mac saw Tommy cringe at the harsh statement. In response, he motioned Tommy over and let him climb up on his knee.

"You're wrong there. He's one less child who has to suffer because of something that can be corrected. If I have the ability to do that for him, to ease his pain, then I'm going to."

Allen's lip curled in contemptuous disbelief. "For free."

Maybe it was charity the man objected to. Mac had already reviewed the hospital's policy in these cases for him. "You pay what you can."

Allen held up his hands, stopping him. "Whoa, I can't pay anything. I'm still paying off my car. There's no money to spare." His tone indicated that his words were final. There was no room for argument, no room for adjustment.

Terse words rose to Mac's tongue all centered on his opinion of the kind of man who cared more about having four wheels than easing the mental anguish of a child he'd been entrusted with, but he let them go. Being confrontational with Tommy's stepfather wouldn't do Tommy any good.

Even if punching Allen in his perfect nose would have made him feel a h.e.l.l of a lot better.

He was in dire need of working off the full head of steam he'd worked up, Mac thought. It was getting harder and harder keeping his fists from making contact with Allen's face. Which was why he made tracks for the gym the moment Tommy and his stepfather left.

Blair Memorial maintained a state-of-the-art gym on the premises. It was located in the bas.e.m.e.nt and was outfitted with all the latest equipment. The gym had been a gift from Rudolph Heinman, a former patient who had also served as the training guru for several generations of men and women who ached to be, if not Adonises and Venuses, then at least physically fit. Heinman had been admitted to Blair seven years ago to be treated for cancer. After undergoing an aggressive program, his case went into remission, eventually disappearing totally.

Heinman was so grateful, he gave the hospital a grant for the gym, as well as a new cancer treatment wing and renovating the chapel that was already on the premises. He had been a man who believed in covering all bases.

Trying to maintain his cool, Mac hurried out of his clothes and into the shorts and gray T-shirt he kept there, both of which had seen betters years.

Muttering under his breath, he eschewed the free weights and the treadmill, going straight for the punching bag.

He envisioned Peter Allen's face imprinted on the gun-metal gray bag as he began his workout. His fists flew in four-four time, hitting harder and harder until he was fairly panting from the exertion.

"Anyone I know?"

He didn't appear to hear her and for a moment, Jolene thought of just walking out again. But she'd seen the expression on MacKenzie's face when he'd pa.s.sed her in the hall upstairs. Something had prompted her to follow him. She'd waited outside the locker room until he'd emerged, telling herself it was none of her business. She'd waited anyway.

"I said-" she raised her voice, coming closer "-anyone I know?"

Surprised, Mac stopped swinging and turned around to look at her.

"What?" His first response was, "No," and then he asked, "What are you doing down here?"

Jolene suddenly felt stupid. He probably thought he'd finally gotten to her and she was following him around like a lovesick puppy. What the h.e.l.l was she doing here? "It's a free gym."

She was still in her nurse's uniform. "You're not exactly dressed to work out."

The urge to utter a snappy comeback was negated by the fact that there was no snappy comeback for this. With no options left, she went with the truth. "I saw the look on your face upstairs. I just wanted to make sure you were all right."

The barest hint of a smile crept over his lips. "I'm touched."

"Don't be. It's my training," she told him. "I'd do the same for any sick animal." She nodded at the bag as he took another swing. "Is that Allen?"

Mac stopped swinging again. "What?"

Go away now, Jo. There's no point in going on with this conversation.

Somehow, her feet didn't hear her brain. "Is that Tommy's stepfather? I heard you talking to him upstairs just before you came here."

Mac looked at her sharply. "Adding spying to your lists of talents?"

Defensiveness, never far away these days, immediately took over. So much for a good deed. "I was walking by...your voice carries." Why was she bothering? She began to turn away. "Never mind-"

"No, wait." Abandoning the punching bag, Mac moved around in front of her, impeding her path. It really was nice of her to come. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound sarcastic. It's just that Tommy's stepfather presses all the wrong b.u.t.tons for me."

Her eyes held his. "I know all about men who press wrong b.u.t.tons."

The slight smile slipped into a grin. "Meaning me?"

She raised a shoulder, let it drop, avoiding his eyes. "You didn't press, I antic.i.p.ated." Pausing a beat, she added, "My mother thinks you're a 'nice young doctor."' She then chastised herself the moment the words were out of her mouth.

The need to take out his aggression on the punching bag faded. He enjoyed connecting far more than he liked venting. "Your mother's a very smart lady. How did her date go?"

With the kind of social life she'd heard he had, Jolene was surprised that he remembered such a small detail like her mother's date.

"Fine. She's seeing him again." There was a special glow in her mother's eyes that she hadn't remembered seeing for a long, long time, and Jolene was happy for her. It had been a long time since her father had died. Her mother deserved some happiness.

"Good for her."

Try as she might, there was something in MacKenzie's tone that just rubbed her the wrong way. "Right, you believe everyone should have an active social life."

Why was her back up again? He hadn't said anything out of the ordinary. "At least one that doesn't have to be worked over by the M.E." He tried again, going for higher, safer ground. "How's Amanda feeling?"

That made twice he surprised her. "She's better."

"Good." Mac's eyes swept over her face. She looked a little flushed. Did he have something to do with that? He'd like to think that he did. "And how's Amanda's mother these days?"

Jolene raised her chin. Time to go. "Amanda's mother is just fine."

Mac grinned. "That's my opinion, too."

When he looked at her like that, she could feel something happening to her knees. It was as if they'd suddenly lost the ability to lock themselves into place. She urged herself to make an exit before they suddenly didn't function anymore and she embarra.s.sed herself.

Abruptly Jolene turned away from him and began to leave again.

Mac put a hand on her shoulder-or more accurately, laid a gloved hand awkwardly on her shoulder, holding her in place. He laughed when she looked at it. "These aren't exactly made for delicacy. Since we seem to be enjoying a truce here, why don't we explore it further?"

He was standing too close. Why wasn't she moving away? she upbraided herself. Why was she looking up at that almost square-cut, rugged face and those light-green eyes? Was this what a moth went through just before it had its wings burned off by a flame?

Well, she wasn't a silly little moth, was she?

So why wasn't she leaving?

Jolene's throat felt dry as she asked, "And how would we do that?"

There was that wary look in her eyes again. But there was something more, something that encouraged him to push on.

"That can be accomplished in a number of ways. I thought we might try going out, say-" He wanted to give her enough time, not feel as if he was moving in for the kill. "Tomorrow night?"

Jolene's mind went blank for a beat, and then she rallied, relieved that she actually had an excuse because for the life of her, she didn't think she could have fabricated one on the spot.

"Sorry, I promised to take Amanda to see that new cartoon movie that's out." Since he seemed to be waiting for something further, she gave him the name, not that she expected him to be familiar with it. "Silly Sandy's Big Adventure."

To her surprise, the grin only grew wider. Pulling her in. "I've been meaning to see that."

Well, now she'd caught him in a bald-face lie. She laughed shortly. "You?"

He spread his boxing gloved hands wide. "Hey, what can I say? I'm an animation junkie and this movie's produced by that big studio in Ireland."

She stared at him. He couldn't have surprised her more than if he'd suddenly announced that he was a mutant Smurf who'd lost his color and taken growth hormones. "How did you know that?"

He liked the way wonder flowered in her eye. "I told you, I'm an animation junkie." He laughed. "And it also helps to have two nephews and a niece who love cartoons and can be used as protective cover."

Her instant inclination to turn him down lost some of its thunder. Something akin to amus.e.m.e.nt began to form. "I must say you get A for originality."

"I get A's for other reasons, too." He saw her eyes narrow. "I'm fun. Kids like me, just ask my niece and nephews and their friends."

Maybe she was being a little too harsh on him. After all, he had sounded sincere about Tommy Edwards and there had been no one around to impress.

Still, as Jolene looked at him, she debated with herself, wondering if she was making a mistake. "You're really willing to go see Silly Sandy?"

Mac crossed his heart rather clumsily, given the boxing glove on his hand. "Not only that, but afterward, we can go to the Safari Restaurant."

The name meant nothing to her. She suddenly had an image of men hunting scantily clad women who were weaving their way in and out of plastic foliage arranged to look like a jungle. "What's that?"

"You haven't been there? Then Amanda's in for a treat." He stopped. There was one possible damper. "She's not afraid of animals, is she?"

This time, when Jolene laughed, the sound was filled with abject pleasure. "Amanda? Amanda's not afraid of anything. She's absolutely fearless."

At the age of one, her daughter had leaped off her first coffee table like a fledgling bird attempting to take its maiden flight out of the nest. She'd gone on to leap off everything in the house, as if determined to somehow take wing.

Mac looked at her. His smile was slow, infectious. Drugging her. "Like her mother."

Jolene realized that she was standing much too close to a sweaty man for her own comfort. She could feel the heat radiating from his body. Or was that just her own body getting hotter?

The word "escape" began to whisper across her mind.

"I'd better be getting back, they're probably looking for me." She began to make good her retreat, then stopped. "If someone's looking for you, shall I tell them where you are, Rocky?"

He glanced back at the punching bag. "No, suddenly I don't feel the need to taking things out on overstuffed, defenseless gray bags anymore. I'm going to hit the showers and be up in a few minutes."

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask her if she wanted to join him in the shower. But he knew if he did, he would probably ruin the tiny bit of miraculous headway that had been made. He could wait.

"What time should I pick you up tomorrow?"

There were b.u.t.terflies in her stomach, flying in out of the blue and insisting on dive-bombing from all angles. She unconsciously placed her hand over her stomach as if to press them out of existence. They didn't go. "The movie starts at five-thirty-"

His last appointment was at four forty-five, but he could have his receptionist reschedule Mrs. Springfield to the following day. The grandmother of four was a semiregular. She only came in to talk and to get estimates on work she ultimately never had done. She'd been to his office three times in the last year already, each time with photographs of women whom she could only resemble if he'd been given the power to perform miracles instead of surgeries.

But Mrs. Springfield enjoyed talking to him and planning. Mac knew it was good therapy for the woman. It cost her nothing, since it was a free consultation, and him only a little of his time. Mac figured he had it to spare. If his sister Carrie had been able to talk to someone in the months immediately following her accident, she might not have spent all those years lost in the confines of a dark depression.

"Then I'll be at your house at five," he promised, watching her retreat.

"Unless there's an emergency," Jolene interjected at the door.

He grinned, catching the slight hopeful tone, knowing what she was thinking. "Stop crossing your fingers, Nurse DeLuca. There won't be an emergency."

"You never know."

He had that covered. "No, you never do." He was looking at her as he said it. "But just in case, I'll leave someone on call in my place. It's not every day I get to see a Silly Sandy movie in the company of two beautiful women."

He was using empty words again. They needed to have this out in the open. One outing was all that was going to transpire between them. With Amanda acting as a chaperone. "That might work on my mother, but it won't work on me."

He inclined his head. "Duly noted." And then he looked at her, his smile growing just a tad serious. "That doesn't make you any less beautiful."

Jolene turned on her heel and walked away.

She had absolutely no clue what to say in response, so she said nothing. And she wasn't aware of the smile that had come to her lips.

But he sure was.

Her reflection had flashed back at him in the gla.s.s portion of the door just as she pa.s.sed it, leaving the gym.

Looked like he was finally making some progress. Mac whistled as he walked to the showers.

Chapter Seven.

A ll set.

Smiling to himself, Mac replaced the receiver. Mrs. Springfield had called with a question about tomorrow's appointment. She'd been more than willing to reschedule once he asked the woman personally.

He had his suspicions that the sixty-seven-year-old grandmother had a crush on him. While he didn't like to take unfair advantage of anyone-except for John Gilroy when he was playing poker and only because the anesthesiologist became belligerent when he wasn't winning-he'd used Mrs. Springfield's kindly feelings toward him just this once to get her to agree to the time switch. She was coming in tomorrow just before lunch.

That gave her another half a day to leaf through more fashion magazines and clip more photographs. She always came in with a folder full of them.

Everyone had to have a hobby, Mac thought, hurrying out of the office. His hobby was dating pretty women. The more, the better, because the more, the less chance there was in getting hooked on one and making the kind of mistake his parents had made.