“More or less. Fewer of the smaller ones all the time.”

“If you were sick or someone you loved was sick, where would you want them to go?”

“It would depend on what was wrong. I would want them to go where they could get the best care.”

“Okay, fair enough.” Flannery went back to her sandwich for a minute. “Define the best care.”

Presley pushed away the cup of coffee she didn’t want anymore. “I would think that would be obvious. The most up-to-date, accurate, effective care possible.”

“So you wouldn’t care if a robot delivered the treatment, as long as it was effective.”

Presley sighed. “I know where you’re going with this. Yes, the personal factor matters. Of course I would rather have a doctor like you or Harper, someone who knows me, who understands what’s important to me, who cares about me and my life beyond the illness, but—”

“You noticed? Harper must be doing a good job.”

Presley stiffened, a chill rippling down her spine. “I’m sorry?”

“Harper—she’s taking you around to show you the human side of things. Smart of her.”

“And I suppose that’s all part of some grand plan?” Presley said, feeling the coolness in her voice. “To sway me somehow?”

“I didn’t say that,” Flannery said, her tone conciliatory. “You can’t have a plan until you know where all the pieces fit on the board, and you’re pretty good at keeping that to yourself.”

“And what’s your role in all of this?”

Flannery’s eyes danced. “I was hoping to seduce you and then get the inside scoop, but I don’t see that happening now.”

Presley could not contain her laughter. “My God, your ego is lethal.”

Flannery lifted a huge piece of berry pie off her tray and placed it on the table between them. She picked up a spoon and handed it to Presley. “Share some pie?”

“I’m not even going to ask why you decided not to seduce me.”

“Can’t,” Flannery said, cutting off a piece of pie and forking it into her mouth. “It’s an unwritten rule.”

“I’m sorry?”

“No poaching, not when it’s serious.”

“I’m not following the metaphor.”

The laughter in Flannery’s eyes winked out. “Harper. She’s interested, you got that, right?”

Slowly, Presley sat back in her seat. “This is a conversation we’re not going to have.”

“All right, as long as we’re not having it, let me just mention one thing. She’s not like me. She doesn’t go in for variety. When she notices a woman, it’s because the woman means something to her.”

“Is that a warning?”

“No. Harper’s a big girl, she can take care of herself.” Flannery picked up the spoon Presley had put down on the table and broke off another piece of pie. She held it out to Presley. “But you don’t know her well enough to know any of that, so I just wanted to give you a heads-up. Try it, it’s really good pie.”

Presley took the spoon and contemplated flinging its contents. When Harper notices a woman, it’s because she’s serious. She didn’t want Harper to be serious about her. Did she? “Have you had very many pies thrown at you?”

Flannery grinned. “Quite a few, actually.”

“I’m not surprised.”

“I’ll back off now so you can eat that instead of throwing it.”

“Thank you.” Presley tried it. “Excellent pie.”

“Told you. What are you doing here so late, by the way?”

“Harper got a call while she was taking me and Carrie home, and I went out with her. She had to admit the boy and I came along.”

Flannery frowned. “Who?”

“Jimmy Reynolds. Harper thinks he has leukemia.”

“Son of a bitch,” Flannery said. “If that’s what Harper thinks, then he does. She doesn’t make mistakes about things like that.” Flannery rubbed her face. “That’s going to be hard on her.”

“Yes, children must be so difficult—”

“Especially after Katie.”

“What do you mean?”

“Katie, she came between Carson and Margie. She died of leukemia.”

“Oh God,” Presley whispered. “I’m so sorry for all of you.”

“Do me a favor,” Flannery said.

“All right,” Presley said, not needing to hear what Flannery wanted. Flannery was thinking of Harper, and so was she.

“If she doesn’t get out of here tonight, call me. I’ll come and drag her home. She’s gonna wear herself out trying to cure this kid.”

“Do you always look after her?”

“It’s mutual. That’s what siblings do.”

“Yes. Of course.” The cold settled around Presley’s heart. She had no idea what siblings did, only what competitors did. “Actually, we’re going to have breakfast, so I’ll be sure she gets some rest after.”

“Are you now?” Flannery studied her before sliding the pie a little closer. “Good. Have another bite.”

Chapter Twenty

A little after four a.m., Harper checked the staff lounge adjacent to the nurses’ station for Presley. She expected her to have left, even though she’d said she wanted to stay. The nights got long and lonely in the hospital after midnight. A single counter light burned in the kitchenette tucked into one corner. The television suspended on the wall by a thick metal bracket was silent, a rare and blessed event. Usually the set played day and night, tuned to a network talk show or, more often, a soap. Presley was stretched out on the sofa, her shoes lined up neatly on the floor beside it, her iPad resting on her chest. Her eyes were closed, her face relaxed, her breathing even. She was deeply asleep. Harper leaned against the door and looked at her.

Despite the fact that they’d both been in the same clothes going on a day, Presley looked a hell of a lot better than her, as if she could open her eyes and stride to the front of the boardroom in perfect command. Her pale green shirt and black trousers were apparently made of some miracle material that never wrinkled or lost their crisp, fresh appearance. Her hair appeared lustrous and tangle free. Presley was the embodiment of style and power, a combination Harper had never given much thought to before and now found seductively appealing. But what made her want to run her fingers through those perfect blond waves and wake Presley with a soft, claiming kiss had only a little to do with Presley’s attractiveness. She wanted to see that surprised look of wonder again—the one Presley had displayed when she first took in the tree house, as if she’d made a marvelous discovery. The pleasure she’d revealed when she’d slowly walked around, fingers trailing over the wood, the furniture, the old books on the shelves, as if everything was remarkable and new to her.

Harper had wondered then what kind of world Presley had come from that something as simple as that tree house could be so enthralling. Presley’s enchantment enchanted Harper, and from that moment on, she wanted to be the one to put that look of simple joy back on Presley’s face. She wanted to share with Presley what mattered most to her and learn what mattered to Presley, in the places Presley hid away from others. She had no doubt those soft, vulnerable places were there. She’d seen them in Presley’s eyes in the tree house, heard them in her voice when she’d talked to Margie, witnessed them when Presley stayed through the night to find out about a boy she’d just met. Stayed for Harper too. That thought was one she didn’t quite know what to do with. Presley turned her head and opened her eyes as if Harper had made some sound or movement that awakened her. But she hadn’t.

“How did you know I was here?” Harper asked.

Presley smiled. “I felt you.”

“Did you.”

Presley’s eyes were languorous and inviting. “Yes. You were watching me.”

“I was.” Harper’s throat was dry. “Do you mind?”

“No. I like it.” Presley’s gaze roamed over her. “I didn’t know I would.”

“You must get looked at a lot. You’re very beautiful.”

“I like that you think so. Another surprise.” Presley’s lips parted ever so slightly. “You do that a lot. Surprise me.”

“I like that.” Harper clenched inside, imagining the softness of Presley’s mouth on her body. She wanted the press of Presley’s flesh beneath her hands.

Presley touched the sofa by her hip. “Come sit down. You must be exhausted.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“No?”

Harper shook her head. “Just now I won’t be able not to touch you, and this is hardly a private place.”

Presley sat up and pushed her hair back with both hands. As if by divine design, every strand seemed to fall into place perfectly. “Do you have another suggestion?”

“Yes. My place.” Harper swallowed, tried to ignore the pounding in her belly. “I promised you breakfast.”

“Yes, you did.” Presley rose and slipped into her shoes.

“How do you do that?” Harper asked.

“How do I do what?”

“Look so perfectly put together when all the rest of us mortals would look like yesterday’s dinner.”

“Just lucky, I guess.” Presley laughed and color flooded her face.

Harper was very glad she’d stayed in the doorway. She liked seeing the heat in Presley’s face, liked that she’d been the cause. “Where’s your car?”

“In the back lot. Not far from where you parked.”

“Follow me, then?” Harper asked Presley as they walked out into the night.

“I will.”

Dawn was still an hour away and the night was cool beneath a starlit sky. The half-moon gave just enough light to see by.

“Wait,” Harper said.

Presley stopped. “What?”

Harper slid her fingertips into Presley’s hair and drew her close. “I have to do this.”

She kissed her slowly, savoring the softness of her lips. She stopped before she couldn’t, her breath trapped in her chest and desire a sharp pain in her belly. “You’re beautiful in the moonlight.”

“And you are dangerous,” Presley said in a husky voice, “in any light.”