Starting with a Kiss. Barbara McMahon

observation, trying to figure out which man sitting there was the one she was interested in.

      By the time the evening ended, Greg felt almost sorry for Abigail Trent. She’d given a good speech when accepting the endowment. Her voice had broken once, but that had added to the poignancy of the evening. Several colleagues spoke warmly about Carol Walker, about the lost potential, the tragic accident that had claimed her life. The speeches seemed to upset Abigail.

      He could tell the entire evening was proving a strain and almost felt her relief when they rose to leave. The next time Ben Taylor asked him for a favor, he’d be sure he had other plans.

      A young man from the table she’d been staring at came up to her. Greg suddenly felt Abigail’s tension increase.

      “Abby, I nearly didn’t recognize you. What did you do to yourself?” he asked bluntly, frowning as he looked her over from head to toe.

      “Hi, Jeb.” She smiled at him almost in relief. “I don’t always wear lab coats, you know.”

      From the bright smile and the way she looked up at the young man, Greg suspected he’d been her focus of interest all evening.

      “I guess not, but neither do you wear dresses like this.” His gaze held obvious disapproval. “You look like a tart.”

      Hot color instantly stained Abby’s checks.

      A feeling of protectiveness suddenly and unexpectedly surged through Greg. She might not be dressed as conservatively as she normally did, but there was no reason to insult her! He stepped closer.

      “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced. I’m Greg Hastings.” He held out his hand, coming between Abigail and the rude young man as if he could cut the tension by his presence.

      “Jeb Stuart. I’m an old friend of Abby’s. And Carol’s.” Jeb held out his hand.

      Greg resisted the temptation to annihilate him with a punishing handshake. It was surprisingly hard. He thought that kind of behavior ended in high school. Obviously not.

      “We have to be going,” he said to Abby, offering an out.

      She took it gratefully. “Yes, of course. Bye, Jeb.”

      As they wound their way through the crowd, Greg kept an eye on Abby. Her head held high, she refused to meet anyone’s eye, but walked determinedly toward the door. The deep pink in her cheeks made her blue eyes sparkle. He’d seen that same kind of sparkle once or twice when she became impassioned about a topic in the staff meeting.

      He admired her for holding up after Jeb’s insult.

      There seemed to be more to Dr. Trent than he’d first thought, even though none of it concerned him. She’d made that abundantly clear during the evening.

      Nevertheless, his interest was piqued—he wanted to know about the relationship between her and Jeb Stuart. Were they lovers who had had a falling-out? He frowned, not liking the idea at all.

      They had to wait for the parking attendant to bring his car. The air blew briskly down the canyon between buildings, the cool ocean fog already blanketing the city. Abby huddled in her coat, buttoned to the neck, her gaze on her toes.

      “You did well in your speech,” he said to break the silence.

      “Thanks.”

      Another couple from the banquet left, calling goodnights.

      Just then a taxi came to a stop in front of the restaurant. Before he could react, Greg watched Abby dart into the cab. Halting before closing the door, she offered a phony polite smile.

      “Thanks for being my escort, Dr. Hastings. I’ll see myself home.”

      So much for thinking the lady had a hidden agenda, Greg thought wryly as he watched the cab pull away. Two seconds later his car arrived.

      “Timing is everything,” he murmured, giving the attendant a tip and sliding in behind the wheel. For a moment he considered following Abby to make sure she got home safely, then discarded the idea. The woman had made her choice clear. But he couldn’t help wondering what her thinking had been—before and after seeing Jeb Stuart.

      Who was the real Abigail Trent—quiet, shy doctor? Or budding femme fatale?

      Chapter Two

      “Rats!” Abby murmured as she rushed down the hospital corridor. She wanted to run, but that was very definitely frowned upon at the hospital unless there was a life-threatening emergency. She was late—again. Which didn’t threaten anyone—except herself. The last staff meeting she’d been late for, Dr. Taylor had dripped sarcasm, and she’d had to endure the laughter of the whole staff.

      Sometimes it couldn’t be helped. They were all doctors, they should understand that!

      She turned the corner and slowed down a tad to get her breathing under control. Being late wasn’t the only reason she dreaded this meeting. Everyone in attendance would have been at the banquet last week. Everyone would know she’d made a fool of herself trying to compete in an area she had no business even venturing! She was a doctor, and a darn good one. Forget Jeb and concentrate on her work, she told herself for the millionth time.

      True to her worst expectations, every eye immediately swung her way when she opened the conference room door and stepped inside. The lone empty seat was at the far end of the room. Murmuring an apology to Dr. Taylor, she began to walk toward it, only realizing at the last moment it was right next to Greg Hastings. Could life get any worse?

      “Nice of you to join us, Dr. Trent,” Dr. Taylor said.

      Excuses didn’t help. She nodded and sat, wishing she’d just skipped the meeting. She could have found out the news later from one of her friends. Susan Shattner looked at her and smiled, rolling her eyes. Susan had been late once, as Abby recalled. She too had been subject to Dr. Taylor’s scathing comments.

      But never Dr. Hastings. Of course not, wasn’t he perfect?

      Concentrating on Dr. Taylor, she did her best to ignore the man beside her. At least the chief of staff didn’t stop to make a snide comment this time.

      “…which leads to the next item on the agenda. As you know, Steve Johnston co-chaired the conference committee with Greg. Due to the death of his father and the needs his mother continues to have, he’s leaving at the end of the month to return to Baltimore. I’ve relieved him of his conference responsibilities. But—” Dr. Taylor looked around the table, his gaze settling on Abby, “we still need a co-chair for the committee. Most of the work is done, but there will still be decisions to make, and continued supervision to make sure it comes off flawlessly. I’m appointing Abigail Trent to the position.”

      Abby stared at him, dumbfounded. Incredulously she swung around to Greg Hastings. She was to share the committee chair position with him? The man who had witnessed her most embarrassing night ever? She couldn’t do it, not in a million years!

      His cool gaze met hers, as if challenging her to say something.

      She looked at Dr. Taylor again. “I don’t think I’m right for this,” she said. “I don’t have enough experience.”

      “I’m not asking you to present a workshop, just assist Greg in coordinating the event. Sally Chapel and Bob Montgomery are also on the committee, to help as needed. But the final decisions will rest with you and Greg.” The subject was closed as far as he was concerned. He picked up a sheet of paper.

      “Next up, the scheduling changes the Nursing Administration is requesting. It impacts primarily…”

      Abby’s mind went blank. She couldn’t believe the assignment. Of all the people to be paired with. Not only did she and Dr. Hastings scarcely speak to each other, he’d been right there last week when Jeb had been so scathing. At least she’d been spared others hearing Jeb’s insult. Her cheeks burned again just remembering. She wished she could forget every moment, but her memory was excellent.

      As,