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San Juan. And too many sick people live in poverty. I worked at the hospital during the day. At night, I ran a free clinic.”
    The handsome, perfectly groomed Marc drudging in the slums of Puerto Rico? Was this the same Marc she’d known seven years ago, the heartthrob of the hospital who used to collect sports’ trophies and nurses’ kisses?
    “So what brought you to WCH?”
    Years ago, their dates had consisted of a few hours stolen out of their busy schedules for a fast-food dinner or a football game, followed by a passionate tumble. No time to waste on useless chats during their time together.
    Seven dates.
    She grimaced. Cripes, she could still recite the exact days and hours she went out with Marc, hoping she’d be the one he’d meet at the altar eventually. Her jaws clenched painfully. How could she have been so naïve?
    “The hospital made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”
    I bet . WCH had headhunted for several months for an eminent anesthesiologist. “I’m sure you’ll find the work quite challenging here.”
    “I hope so. In addition to a clinical practice and residents’ training, I’ll be able to spend my free time doing research.”
    “Free time?” Holly shook her head. “Never heard of it in this place.” Maybe he could teach her how to handle a thirty-hour day with a smile on her face. Hmm, on second thought she’d better keep her distance. The magnetism of his smile could reach deep into a woman’s heart.
    But Marc had lost his legendary smile a few hours ago, that seductive smile that sent her pulse into overdrive. He straightened and moved to sit behind his desk. His gaze dropped to the picture still lying upside down on the desk. He picked it up and stared at it, his face contorting into a mask of pain.
    “Carlos and Lydia moved here three years ago. I wanted to be close to them. Carlos was working on a Ph.D. in Engineering. As you know, Lydia was having problems with her pregnancy.” Marc raised his head, the sadness in his eyes grasping at her heart. “I will never forget your kindness toward her.”
    “Please, don’t mention it.”
    She was extending sympathy and support, and he was offering gratitude. She almost laughed with bitterness. Darn, what happened to healthy feelings of attraction and love? Not for you, my dear . Remember your board exams .
    The picture trembled in his hand. “It’s too late now, anyway.”
    “You have...had just one brother?”
    “One brother and four sisters. Three married, each with three or four kids, and the youngest one in med school. Abuelita didn’t allow her to leave Puerto Rico. Our mother was killed in a car accident fifteen years ago. Papa survived but remained paralyzed. He died two years ago.” Marc’s eyebrows knitted in a frown as his finger skimmed the happy couple in the picture. “A lot of responsibilities,” he muttered under his breath, his voice hoarse and bitter. “Accidents seem to be the curse of our family.”
    “I’m sorry, Marc.” A surge of pity flooded her heart as she stared into his brown, velvet eyes.
    Pity? And an unexplainable feeling she wasn’t brave enough to analyze.
    She clasped her hands in her lap, afraid she’d try to console Marc again. The wrong way. She trailed her gaze down his straight profile, firm chin, and sensual mouth. He was handsome as sin, even in his sorrow.
    A rational inner voice screamed at her to recall her self-control stat. “I have to go to the NICU.” She stood, adjusted her scrubs.
    He rose from his chair and came toward her. His Adam’s apple worked in his throat. “Holly, we’re starting a new chapter now.”
    Oh, no . She took a step back and swallowed a gasp. Not a new chapter, not a page, or even a line with Marc, outside work. She squinted at him, but there was no sign of humor in his face. Little lines she’d never noticed before creased the corners of his mouth. “What do you mean?”
    “Can we forget the past and start fresh?”
    “Start what?”
    He