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fear and frustration. Shoving out of the chair that creaked its age, she steeled her resolve. She’d gotten herself into this mess; she’d have to get herself out. Her father always said you reap what you sow. When had she sown the seeds of this disaster?

    *

    Jamie set the stack of patient files on the coffee table and sat down on the brown leather couch in her office, tired and hungry after a long day. Her father had brought it with him from his old office, and right now she felt about as old and worn as it looked. Had it really been almost twenty years since his death? Sitting where he’d sat gave her a sense of comfort, but she actually needed his wisdom.
    She clenched her jaw. Everything he’d worked for was in jeopardy. Why had Marjorie embezzled from her? Hadn’t she treated her with the same regard her father had shown his office manager, Mary? What would Mary think of her daughter’s behavior? It just didn’t make sense.
    She should be home having dinner with Sheryl instead of trying to figure out how a trusted employee committed insurance fraud and stole from her for God knew how long. She grabbed the top file. The only way to reconstruct what Marjorie had done was to match the treatments she’d billed for against what treatments had actually been done. She’d need to go through the files for every insurance patient as far back as she still had them.
    The insurance companies were acting as if she’d approved of the fraud, and their lack of cooperation was making it harder. Too many files she’d looked at didn’t have EOBs in them, and without copies she had nothing to compare the treatments against.
    She checked her watch. Seven o’clock. One more hour. Then she’d go home and curl up on the couch with Sheryl and watch the worst adventure movie they could find.

Chapter Four

    “Breakfast in bed.” Jamie frowned as she walked into the bedroom carrying the tray with cappuccinos, fat-free yogurt, and fruit. Sheryl had been asleep ten minutes ago. Now the shower was on, and she was booming out one of the country songs she loved. Jamie set the tray on the bed.
    Opening the shower door she let her eyes wander over Sheryl’s body. She felt guilty for missing those extra curves, but she had to admit Sheryl looked great. “I thought we’d have breakfast in bed and pick up where we left off last night.” Jamie had surprised Sheryl with tickets to a sold-out George Strait concert. Thank-you kisses had led to making love.
    “Cold air.” Sheryl closed the shower door. “I’m meeting people for brunch. I told you. Did you make cappuccinos?”
    Was her memory that bad? “Um, yeah.” Jamie scooted Sheryl’s makeup jars to the side and perched on the edge of the gray marble vanity with double sinks, last year’s remodel.
    “You make the best cappuccinos.”
    “You could, too. You wanted the Gaggia because it was easy to use.”
    “It’s more fun if you make them.” Sheryl stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in a towel. Jamie wanted to peel it off her and carry her back to bed, but once Sheryl showered it was impossible to get her back in the mood. Shouldn’t have fixed those blasted cappuccinos.
    She followed Sheryl to the bedroom and handed her a cup. “How about a movie this afternoon, and then I’ll take you to that new restaurant you’ve been talking about.” Sheryl dropped the towel on a chair and disappeared into the walk-in closet, also part of last year’s remodel. If Sheryl’s new interest in clothes kept up they’d have to expand it again.
    “I’m going shopping this afternoon, and that restaurant’s in Los Gatos.”
    There went her great day. Jamie sat on the bed and downed half of her cappuccino. “It’s dinner, not making out in the park.”
    Sheryl peeked out of the closet and glared at her.
    “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”
    “It’s a small community, and I just don’t need people knowing about my personal life. You said you