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have made some sound, because as if from a great distance, she heard him knock on the door and call her name. How long that went on, she didn’t know, but at some point he was there, staring at her, frowning at her.
    “You okay?” When she didn’t answer, simply stood there shaking, he said, “Stupid question. I’ll call 911.”
    He started to leave. She made a jerky grab at his arm and croaked out, “No.”
    He studied her. “You’re not having a heart attack, are you?”
    When she shook her head, he took hold of her arm.“Okay, then. Since you’re a physician, I’ll take your word for it and chalk this up to a panic attack, with which, unfortunately, I am all too familiar. But if you keel over dead, you’re not allowed to sue me. C’mere, you need to sit down before you fall down.”
    “You know about me?” she managed to ask as he guided her into the living room. “Being a doctor?”
    “Word got out during the excitement.”
    “Oh no,” she said, whimpering. “I don’t want that. They’ll ask me. I can’t talk about it.”
    “It’s okay. You don’t have to talk about anything. That’s one of the great things about having freedom of speech—you have the freedom to shut up, too.” He sat in a rocking chair, then tugged her down onto his lap.
    The tiny little part of Sage that could still think decided the man was being way too familiar, but the rest of her didn’t care. She clung to him like a lifeline. He smelled of wood smoke and emanated safety. His arms offered sanctuary that she couldn’t resist.
    “I delivered those babies,” she murmured, fighting back the memories washing over her, dark and ugly and full of despair. “Two healthy little babies.”
    “That you did.” He held her and rocked her and murmured soothing sounds against her ear.
    Slowly, ever so slowly, the past retreated and the panic dissipated. Sage could breathe again. At that point, a river of despair washed through her and with it, finally, came tears. A flood of tears.
    She sobbed against a stranger’s broad chest as if her world had come to an end. In many ways, that’s exactly what had happened. A little more than five years ago, the world as she had known it ended on an African savannah.
    “Let it go, sweetheart,” Colt Rafferty murmured. “It’s poison when you keep it inside. Get it all out.”
    So she did. She cried for the children. Cried for herlost career. Cried because sometimes evil won. She lost all track of time, but for these stolen minutes, for the first time in a very long time, she felt safe and protected and not so alone. Throughout it all, Colt continued to rock her.
    Finally, when the storm of tears had expended all their fury, she rested, completely spent. Colt allowed her a few minutes, then said, “A big part of my job is solving puzzles, so I’m inclined to explore what happened here. I know that you are Sage Anderson, owner of the gallery in town. I know you are a painter and have a competitive artistic streak. Today you served as Nic Callahan’s obstetrician and delivered her twin daughters, but after keeping your cool throughout, you fell apart. That makes you interesting, Sage. Fascinating.”
    “I don’t talk about it,” Sage said, knowing she should move but not quite ready to do so.
    “That’s okay. Puzzle solving is more fun when you discover clues all on your own.” With that, he put his fingers beneath her chin, tilted up her face, and kissed her.
    She tasted minty fresh and surprised. Okay, make that shocked , he revised after she broke speed records scrambling off his lap.
    “I’m not a puzzle,” she snapped. “I’m a … a …”
    “Doctor?” he suggested.
    Her mouth moved, but no words came out.
    “Artist who craves blue ribbons?”
    Her chin came up. “I’m a woman.”
    He grinned. “Yes, you are definitely a woman. A beautiful, intriguing puzzle of a woman—who I suspect hasn’t been kissed in far too long.”
    Satisfaction washed through Colt as