Forever...Again. Maureen Child

here, constantly in the midst of labors and deliveries…almost made her feel a part of everything.

      Working for the midwifery clinic and women’s ealth center was like having a ringside seat for a miracle, every day.

      “We’ve only got the one birthing room empty at the moment.” Lily grinned. “If this keeps up, maybe you should think about expanding.”

      Mari’s eyes widened. “Bite your tongue,” she said on a half laugh. “We’ve got plenty to do right now, with the clinic and the…” Her voice trailed off and a scowl tightened her expression.

      Lily could have kicked herself. She hadn’t meant to give Mari any reason to think about the ridiculous accusations flying around. But judging by the tired, haunted look in Mari’s eyes, the younger woman was doing a lot of thinking lately, with or without Lily’s reminders.

      Reaching out, she laid one hand on Mari’s arm, and the woman stilled. “You’re not to worry about any of this, you know,” Lily said. “It’s bull, all of it. And that sheriff will figure it out sooner or later.”

      Mari sighed and at last pulled her right hand free of her pocket, a slip of paper clutched in her hand. “I’ve known Bryce practically my whole life,” she said softly. Shaking her head, she shifted her gaze from Lily’s as if she couldn’t bear to meet the sympathy and understanding she’d find there. “If someone had told me a few months ago that I’d be his prime suspect in an illegal drug investigation, I’d have laughed myself sick.”

      “As you should,” Lily said.

      “It doesn’t sound so funny anymore.” Mari glanced over her shoulder, down the long hallway toward the waiting room. Sitting in chairs were a half-dozen women waiting to be examined. Small children sat at the miniature tables and chairs, reading books or coloring. Everything looked perfectly normal. And it really wasn’t. Nothing had been normal in months.

      Turning around, Mari lifted her gaze to Lily’s. “If Bryce doesn’t clear this up soon, we may lose even more funding, and then I don’t know what we’ll do.”

      “That’s for me to worry about,” Lily said firmly, making sure her voice sounded way more confident than she felt at the moment. “You’ll see. The fund-raising party will bring in bushel loads of cash. We’ll leave our important guests staggered and, hopefully, broke.”

      Mari smiled and nodded, though doubt flickered in her eyes.

      “Nice thought. And on that subject—” Mari held out the slip of paper “—this is why I stopped you. It’s the name and number of another possible contributor. My grandmother says, and I quote, ‘They’ve got more money than sense, honey. They should be good for a sizable donation.”’

      “Your grandmother should have my job.”

      “Oh, no.” Mari smiled and this time her heart was in it. “Grandmother doesn’t have the kind of tact required to part a billionaire from his wallet.”

      “And that’s where I come in.” Lily grinned and winked. She snatched the piece of paper. “You’ll see, Mari. Everything is going to be fine.”

      “Your mouth to God’s ear.”

      “Oh,” Lily smiled and promised, “always.”

      As Mari hurried back down the long, well-lit hall, Lily stared after her. Despite waving her pom-poms for Mari’s sake, Lily was a little worried. Things had just been so darn strange lately. She never would have expected to run into a drug scandal in a small town in Kentucky. But then, she thought wearily, some things know no boundaries.

      Turning back toward her office, she walked inside, sat down behind her desk and took a moment to admire her surroundings. Always a woman who preferred beauty whenever possible, she’d painted her office walls a soft, dreamy blue, and had hung white, lacy curtains at the windows. Framed watercolors—some by local artists—hung on the walls, and two crystal vases held cheerful bouquets of simple flowers. The daisies, carnations and peonies brightened the room, and their combined fragrance scented the air like summer perfume. A Bokhara rug in shades of crimson and gold covered the plain, serviceable carpet and was the perfect backdrop for her Queen Anne desk.

      Naturally, most of the other offices at the clinic weren’t quite so lavishly appointed. But Lily was a big believer in making your workspace comfortable. If she enjoyed pretty things, why shouldn’t she bring them in to brighten up her office?

      A china tea service sat on the library table beneath the window, where sunlight dazzled through the lacy sheers to form dainty patterns across the carpet. Easing back in her maroon leather chair, Lily toed her heels off, lifted her legs and propped her feet on the corner of her desk. She wiggled her toes and nearly sighed at the relief. Fashion could be a killer, she mused.

      Lifting one hand to push her hair back from her face, she set the charms on her heavy, platinum bracelet jangling.

      “I always know when you’re around,” a deep voice said from the open doorway, “you’re like a cat with a bell around its neck.”

      Lily’s stomach jumped and she almost pulled her feet down off the desk, but just managed to stop herself. What would be the point of pretending dignity when the man had already seen her?

      Ron Bingham, Mari’s father, and currently the thorn in Lily’s side, took up most of the doorway. Leaning his right shoulder against the jamb, he stared at her as if he had all the time in the world.

      Sharp, blue-green eyes bored into hers from across the room. His neat black hair was lightly sprinkled with gray at the temples, and he wore a flawlessly groomed beard and mustache. She’d never been a fan of beards, but as beards went, she had to admit Ron’s was handsome. He wore a pair of neatly pressed khaki slacks, dark-brown dress shoes and a starched-within-an-inch-of-its-life white, long-sleeved shirt. His tan jacket actually had suede patches at the elbows, and his solemn brown tie finished off the image of successful and yet somehow boring business man.

      Although, she thought, despite his dismal taste in clothing, Ron Bingham could never actually be considered boring. He was far too irritating for that.

      Lily propped her elbows on the arms of her chair and hoped her sleek, red skirt wasn’t drooping enough to give him a view of anything interesting. “So, you knew I’d be here because of the sound of my charm bracelet?”

      “Yep.”

      One-word answers.

      So caveman.

      So annoying.

      And why, in this man, so attractive?

      “Well,” Lily said, smiling, “aren’t you the world-class detective? Most people would have assumed I was here because of my name on the door.”

      His lips twitched, but he didn’t look any too happy about it.

      “Clever woman.”

      “Thank you.”

      “Never cared for clever women.”

      “Well,” Lily said, “color me crushed.”

      He sighed and pushed away from the door. Folding his arms across an impressively broad chest, he tipped his head to one side and stared at her. “Is there any reason in particular we seem to swipe at each other all the time?”

      “Because it’s fun?” Lily smiled, enjoying his discomfort. She supposed she should feel badly about that, but really, the man was so stuffy, he probably just stood his suits up in the corner every night rather than bothering with a closet. How he ever could have fathered a daughter as charming and sweet natured as Mari was simply beyond her. His late wife must have had all the charisma in the family gene pool.

      Ron Bingham stared down at her and wondered why the hell he bothered. Why was it he always felt compelled to stop by this woman’s office when he was at the clinic? Why did he always allow himself to be drawn into a baiting contest?

      Lillith, Lily,