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reparation to the people he’d ruined in order to get there. Sarah Abernathy, for one. Tucker, for another.
    He slowly relaxed his fist and then massaged the clenched muscles at his neck. If only he could blame the entire affair on someone else, but Tucker knew he’d made his share of mistakes. As soon as the lawsuit had been filed, he’d begun easing away from his practice, referring patients to another surgeon, making preparations to fight for his “rights.” Colleagues advised him to ignore the loss of a small percentage of patients, friends urged him to put the charges from his mind and continue as if nothing had happened, but he couldn’t. To be publicly, wrongfully, accused of misusing his hard-earned knowledge and skill had dealt a crippling blow to his belief in himself, as a doctor and as a man.
    He couldn’t explain it to anyone, didn’t fully understand it himself, but he recognized a core of doubt in the one area of his life that he’d thought was invincible. He’d have to face it, have to make some decisions soon, but not yet. For now he wanted to forget everything and everyone except Kristina, who knew nothing about him but believed in him anyway.
    His hand returned to tap impatiently against the chair arm, and then he saw her. Hesitating at the base of the hotel’s famous staircase, she scanned the lobby, and then she moved toward the place where he sat waiting.
    She had exchanged the skirt and blouse for black slacks, a vividly striped top, and a bright jade-colored jacket. She looked sophisticated in a casual, unselfconscious way, but it was the shyly innocent tilt of her chin that created the hollow sensation in the pit of his stomach.
    He stood without being truly aware of his action and barely restrained the hand that lifted automatically to straighten his tie. Two days weren’t going to begin to be enough. “Kristina?”
    In the pause after he had called her name, Kris let a delicious fantasy wrap about her. She was going out to dinner with a man she’d just met—a man whose good looks pleased her; a man whose innate masculinity excited her; a man whose smile cloaked her in velvet. She, Kristina DuMont, had no past before this moment, no future beyond the next few hours. The golden present was all that she had to consider.
    “Hello, Tucker.” Her voice drifted forward with the carefree effort of a cloud. “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting so long.”
    “It didn’t seem long at all.”
    The throaty denial came as he walked forward to reach her. Kris felt a spiraling awareness open inside her. “Which way to the ski slopes?” she asked lightly. “And just as a matter of interest, do we pass any hot dog stands on the way?”
    His smile was slow, easy, and very, very nice. “Trust me. I know a place where the hot dogs are truly worthy of their mustard. And the root beer is served in thick frosted mugs.”
    “How long will it take to get there?”
    “Anywhere from twenty minutes to several hours, depending on whether we decide to walk or drive.”
    “I was hoping you’d suggest a drive. My feet already have an intimate acquaintance with the grass roots of Denver.”
    His gaze dropped to her feet, lingered on the bare strips of skin not covered by her strappy sandals, and Kris had a sudden loss of breath. His dark hair was attractively disheveled; his expression, subtly sensual. His clothing was a well-tailored contrast of tans and navy blue, but his appeal lay in the determined self-confidence, the sense of purpose, that defined his features with gentle strength. He was vulnerable at the moment—she recognized that—but she didn’t think anything could interfere with his life for long.
    His eyes returned to hers with a ready mischief. “If you’re having trouble with your feet, I can carry you to the car.”
    “Thanks, Tucker, but I believe I can hobble as far as the street.”
    “I parked quite a distance from the door.”
    “I’ll manage.”
    He fell into step beside