ng in the air, a petty dart a

ze, her expression unreadable, and waited. She had d

back to Iris again. A silent, assessing sweep. He didn't speak, did

half of a four-year contract that had been defined by its emptiness: no contact, n

d believed he loved. The irony was so thick it was almos

personal history. He was no longer Adler Pope, her husband.

nding on Caleb. She gave a slight, sharp nod toward the char

d. She turned to Adler, her voice taking on a

tis. The diagnosis was mundane, almost laughable given the drama. A simple case of an upset stomach,

resonant baritone that seemed to vibrate in

es fixed on her. "Does Kelsey

out, turning it into a wall between them. A r

chart. "It's a common stomach bug. IV fluids

ct, finally met Kelsey's. "Ms. Mcknight," she said, h

her perfectly made-up face. She searched h

Zurich. You had an emergency cholecystectomy." She paus

into the room with t

rst time. He'd known her for six months, seen her as a competent, if aloof,

the panic, the sterile Swiss hospital, the intense pain. She remembered being told the best surgeon

cold eyes, quickly masked by a deeper, more intense scrutiny. He hadn't known. For all h

rd confirmation of a suspicion. Adler's relationship with Kelse

hority. "So, are you questioning whether I did a poor job on your surgery a year a

flush creeping up her neck. She managed a weak, embarrassed

leb, her tone all business. "Have the nur

d walked toward the door. She wanted out of this

y desperate, unwilling to lose the upper hand

nob, but didn't turn around. "My c

ty absolute. He glanced from the powerful, unreadable Adler Pope to the cool, commanding Iris Weaver. They were nothing alike, and

l metal of the doorknob, ready t