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she could tell this small talk was driving him nuts.
    She couldn’t help but observe, “You’re really a workaholic, aren’t you?”
    Her question took him aback. There was defensiveness in his tone when he said, “I don’t know that I’d say that.”
    Catherine ignored him. “You must have a reputation of working hard. How else could you land the top job at a place like this? I mean, look at you. You’re champing at the bit to do something—analyze my symptoms, diagnose my problem—so you can move on to the next crisis.”
    His rigid shoulders relaxed and he actually laughed.
    She’d found him appealing before, but this laid-back manner of his enthralled her.
    â€œSounds like I’m the one being diagnosed here. But I don’t mind reminding you that you’re the one who made this appointment. With me. The doctor. The one wearing the white coat and the stethoscope. So if we can just stick to the topic at hand…” He tossed her a pointed look.
    Chagrin had her averting her gaze, and she shifted her hips until the edge of exam table pressed against the backs of her knees.
    â€œYou were explaining this nonphysical problem of yours,” he prompted.
    â€œI was.” Bolstering herself with a deep breath, she said, “The people I’ve met here at the clinic’s gym are great, but everyone seems so busy with work or their families. No one seems to have time for a new friend. I was able to enjoya cup of tea with Dr. Lassen. But I’ve been eating dinner alone every night. I’ve been doing a little sight-seeing, but—” she sighed dramatically “—it’s just not the same when you’re all on your own.”
    With each sentence she spoke the crease between his eyebrows cut deeper into his forehead.
    â€œAre you trying to tell me that you’re suffering from loneliness?”
    â€œWell, you don’t have to say it like that.” She tucked her arms across her chest and informed him, “It’s a perfectly legitimate ailment.”
    Even though humor continued to sparkle in his chocolate eyes, he did a great job of mustering up some solemnity. “Of course it is.”
    She forced her spine to straighten. “So it’s official? I’ve been diagnosed?” Without waiting for him to answer her silly questions, she barreled ahead. “Then what I’d like you to do is write me a prescription. For some company. For some conversation.” She thought a moment and then boldly announced, “I think a sight-seeing tour of Portland would be nice. Coffee and dessert would be great. Oh, and dinner, too. Not necessarily in that order, of course.”
    He looked quite stunned. She decided to go in for the kill before he could regain his wits.
    â€œAnd if you’re truly dedicated to your profession,” she said, “you’ll volunteer to be my guide for the evening.”
    Now he had that deer-caught-in-headlights expression, and it was all Catherine could do not to laugh.
    â€œY-you want a date?”
    She flashed a huge grin at him, purposefully mistaking his question. “I’d love a date, thank you. I accept your invitation, Dr. Jacobs.”
    Â 
    Later that same day, Riley sat at his desk and listened as Carrie Martin explained her story.
    â€œI had no idea who that Dr. Richie person was up there in front of that crowd.”
    The woman’s eyes had taken on a haunted look, and sympathy rose up in Riley. Obviously, Carrie was reliving that awful confrontation she’d initiated during Dr. Richie’s last seminar before he’d disappeared. Up until now, he’d only heard rumor and innuendo, and he’d squelched that as quickly as he could, thinking that was best for the clinic and its reputation. But this woman had been deeply affected by the ugly incident that she, herself, had admittedly been the center of.
    â€œI mean, he resembled the man