Mending the Doctor's Heart. Tina Radcliffe

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      “That’s a little over eight weeks from now. Are you saying we’re going to share the position for the entire eight weeks?” Sara asked, her tone incredulous.

      “Since the clinic officially opens late September, there’s more than enough work to keep you both busy. Interviewing medical staff. Ordering supplies. Then there’s accreditation. I can assure you the time will pass very quickly.”

      “I don’t know,” she murmured. “A lot can happen in eight weeks.”

      “Precisely,” Dr. Rhoades responded with an enthusiastic wag of his index finger. “Think of this as a personal and professional due diligence. Paradise needs someone who’s ready to commit to a future here.”

      Pink now tinged Sara’s high cheekbones. She grimaced and clasped her hands tightly in her lap.

      “Eight weeks is plenty of opportunity to discover whether Paradise is a good fit for you and if you’re a good fit for Paradise, wouldn’t you say, Dr. Rogers?”

      Confused at the subtle undercurrent, Ben slowly looked from Sara to Henry Rhoades before clearing his throat and agreeing. “Yes, sir.”

      What else could he say? Paradise was slipping through his fingers, and he couldn’t...no, he flat-out refused to allow that to happen.

      “Excellent.” Dr. Rhoades closed the folder on his desk. “You’re scheduled for Human Resources processing Monday, and then I’ll see you at the clinic on Tuesday. Dress casually. While the construction is basically complete, there is still quite a bit of dust and dirt.”

      Ben nodded, but his head continued to spin as he stood. What had just happened? This wasn’t the outcome he’d hoped for, packed up his belongings and driven hours for.

      “Have you eaten?” the older man asked.

      “Sir?”

      “Have you eaten?”

      “Almost,” Ben responded.

      “Almost?” Dr. Rhoades raised a bushy brow.

      “I was headed to Patti Jo’s and never quite made it to a table.”

      “Sara, take Dr. Rogers to The Prospector.”

      Sara nodded, but didn’t appear any more enthused than he felt at the moment.

      “I don’t want to impose,” Ben interjected.

      “Nonsense. I’d take you myself, but I’ve got a previous commitment. Besides, you two should get to know each other since you’ll be working very closely together for eight weeks.”

      Eight weeks.

      Was that enough time to convince Henry Rhoades that he was the right person for the job?

      Ben wanted the position more than ever. His troubled spirit had been soothed the moment he drove into the small town. Now he just had to make sure he got what he wanted.

      * * *

      Sara bit her lip and glanced quickly at Ben once they were seated. “I’m really sorry about this. I never expected that we’d be...” She paused, at a loss for words.

      Ben shrugged. “Not exactly what I expected either, but hardly your fault.”

      She fiddled with her napkin, grateful when their waitress approached them and slid a stoneware bowl of homemade pickles on the polished pine table.

      “What do you recommend?” Ben asked, turning over the menu.

      “The valley is known for their beef and bison.” Sara placed an order for a bison burger and handed her menu to the server.

      “I’ll have the same thing,” he said.

      She looked around at the rustic décor as if seeing it for the first time before meeting Ben’s eyes.

      He gave a tight-lipped smile but said nothing.

      “So you went to school in Colorado?” Sara asked, eager to ease the palpable tension between them.

      “University of Colorado,” Ben said. “You?”

      “Baylor.”

      “Baylor?” He gave a thoughtful, self-satisfied nod, the implication clear.

      Money. That was laughable.

      Did he think she was a trust-fund baby? If only. No, she’d financed her education all by herself. At this point, the huge debt from medical school and residency was a tidy sum, the balance of which could probably cover the purchase of a small island in the Caribbean.

      “Baylor is sort of a family tradition,” she murmured.

      When Ben gave her yet another stiff nod, she put a smile on her face, determined to be polite, at least until the meal was over. She bit into a crisp, sweet pickle and concentrated on the burst of flavor instead of the man in front of her.

      “Your father is a physician?” he asked.

      “My father is a rancher,” Sara said.

      “Ah, local beef.” He pinned her with his gaze. “How’d you end up in medicine?”

      She slowly wiped her lips with her napkin. “My mother was a pediatrician.”

      “Was?”

      “I lost her when I was very young.”

      Ben’s eyes clouded with concern, and he glanced away. “I’m...I’m very sorry.” The subtle antagonism in his voice vanished.

      “Thank you.” Sara paused. “What about your parents?”

      “My father is a general practitioner, and my mother is a nurse. They’ve been big on rural medicine all my life. Every vacation from school was a mini-mission trip.”

      “You were fortunate.”

      “Probably, but I didn’t think so at the time,” Ben said.

      “I’ve spent most of my life in Paradise and the rest wishing I was back here.” She gave a small laugh. “I guess you just don’t appreciate some things until they’re gone.”

      Her words hung between them for a moment before Ben answered.

      “I guess you’re right.”

      She took a long sip of her water and set her glass down. Ben’s direct gaze met hers.

      “May I ask about Dr. Rhoades’s medical condition?”

      “Incomplete paraplegia.” Her finger traced the moisture on the glass over and over as she spoke. “It was a car accident, many years ago. Emergency medical response couldn’t get to the vehicle due to a snowstorm.”

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