The City Girl and the Country Doctor. Christine Flynn

down her license plate number before citing her for parking too close to a fire hydrant.

      That was when she decided she really did need to get to know Jack. Yet, despite the time they’d spent during their dinners together, he hadn’t told her much about his stepfather. As she’d found with most men, he’d been more than willing to discuss his own views and interests, which basically included politics and his own work. He’d also distracted her with truly fascinating stories about his cases, but he’d been reluctant to talk at all about the man who had raised him. He had, in fact, pretty pointedly changed the subject the only two times she’d managed to bring up his childhood. All she’d been able to gather was that his relationship with the senior Lever was strained at best and that the man had never had time for anything or anyone that didn’t involve work—including Jack.

      She listened to the slow tick of the clock, stroked the cat every third beat. She had already concluded that having Jack for a stepbrother could prove a little awkward. Infinitely more important had been the realization that if Russell didn’t have time for the son he’d raised, the odds of the happy reunion she’d envisioned with him welcoming her into his family weren’t looking good at all. That was why she’d thought it might help her chances with the man if she learned something about the business he was in—which was why she’d starting researching on the Internet again.

      There was just something about having to try that hard to gain acceptance or affection that made her feel even more lost and dejected than she already did.

      Leaning forward, she reached for the mouse, clicked Close and shut the computer down.

      The action did nothing to alleviate the huge void inside her.

      Oddly, what helped a little was petting the cat.

      Restlessness drove Rebecca out into the chilly air early the next morning—right through the newly fallen leaves that totally mocked the time she’d spent raking yesterday afternoon. It was barely eight in the morning, but she’d been up since five checking on Columbus and waiting for the newspaper. It seemed to be some sort of unwritten law that the newspaper always arrived late on the morning a person was up early.

      Thinking it might have been delivered while she’d been in the shower and getting dressed, she hugged her arms over the black turtleneck sweater she wore with her slim black slacks and searched all the usual places it might be hiding. The paper rarely landed in the driveway or the front walk, and never on the porch.

      She found it in the hydrangea bushes by the front window. She only knew the plants were hydrangeas because elderly Mrs. Fulton across the street had told her how beautiful they usually were when properly watered and cared for. The sweet, silver-haired woman with the unfortunate bouffant also mentioned something about adding iron sulfate or aluminum something-or-other to the soil to keep the blooms blue. Rebecca figured that for someone whose only exposure to plants had been to those tended by a plant service in the offices of Vogue, keeping them watered—and not killing them—was accomplishment enough.

      Newspaper in hand, she backed out of the bushes and glanced down the street. The way her house was situated near the top of the cul-de-sac, she could see all of her neighbors’ driveways. Two doors down, she could see Angela Schumacher backing her van out of her drive. Thinking of how much that poor woman had on her plate, what with being a single mom to three children and working two jobs, she lifted her hand and waved. Angela, hurried as always, tossed a wave back. Directly across from Angela’s house was Jack’s. Since his garage door could open any moment, she was about to head back inside when she saw Molly Jackson-Shibb come out her front door and cut past Carly’s driveway toward her.

      “I got your message,” she called, hurrying across the street in slacks and a long blue sweater that hid much of her basketball belly. “Elmer’s fine. And thanks so much for plugging that hole. Adam is going to fill it in before he leaves for work. How’s the cat?” she asked, meeting Rebecca in the street. “I would have called last night, but I had a meeting in the city that ran late and your lights were out when I got home.”

      “Everything’s okay. Columbus is fine.”

      Molly’s expression went from concerned to surprised. “You know which one it was?”

      “The vet told me.” She hadn’t a clue how he’d known him from his brother, though. “He’s just missing part of his ear. The cat,” she explained, trying desperately not to be envious of the woman’s glow. At eight months pregnant, Molly looked absolutely fabulous. “Not the vet.”

      Concern was back. “Elmer bit off his ear?”

      “Only part of it. He probably thought he was a chew toy. Don’t worry,” she assured the woman who was as close to being a friend as anyone on Danbury Way, “it’s not good for the baby.”

      Or so she’d heard, she thought. She’d probably have to be a single mom herself to know for certain. Only, Molly wasn’t single anymore. She and Adam had been married for a couple of months now and seemed more in love than ever.

      Rebecca’s smile was genuine enough. Molly, though, seemed to catch the bittersweet edge behind it.

      The mom-to-be tipped her head, pushed back her long, curly brown hair. “How are you doing?” she asked, sympathy heavy in her voice. “You did great at the party the other night, but it was kind of rough, huh?”

      The infamous Halloween party, Rebecca thought. Jack’s nanny, Zooey, had thrown it for his two children. The week before, Zooey had invited everyone on Danbury Way, including her. Knowing she would have to see Jack, Rebecca had toyed with the idea of not going after he’d called off their date, but it was a neighborhood function and, trying to fit in, she hadn’t missed one yet.

      Everyone on Danbury Way had been there. Just about everyone had known that she’d been interested in Jack, too—though not a single one of them had a clue why that interest had originally been there. Not even the slowly reforming workaholic waiting for her reply.

      The really awkward part was that everyone had also seemed to know that Jack wasn’t seeing her anymore.

      “It was a little uncomfortable,” she had to admit. “But not going to the party would have made a bigger deal out of the situation than it is. Jack and I only had a couple of dates,” she reminded her. “And there really wasn’t a lot of real chemistry there.”

      “Not like there is between him and Zooey?”

      Jack’s new nanny definitely had his eye.

      “Nothing like that.” The easy little laugh she gave made it clear that she was far more embarrassed than hurt by the public’s knowledge of his lack of interest in her. “Most women would kill to have a man look at her that way. Except me,” she insisted, wishing the lost feeling she couldn’t shake would go away. “I’ve decided I’m swearing off men for a while.”

      Including my father, she insisted to herself, only to have the thought interrupted by a silver, bull-nosed pickup truck coming up the street.

      The unfamiliar vehicle had both women glancing toward it. Suddenly sidetracked, Molly’s brow pinched. “Who’s that?”

      Rebecca narrowed her eyes at the approaching vehicle. “Dr. Hudson?”

      She’d barely recognized Joe Hudson’s undeniably attractive features through his windshield before he swung the vehicle into her driveway and killed the engine. A moment later, the dark-haired vet in khakis and a leather bomber jacket stepped out and started toward them.

      “Morning, ladies. Mrs. Shibb,” he called, nodding to Molly as he walked to where they watched him from the middle of the street. “How’s Elmer?”

      Joe Hudson was apparently their vet, too.

      “Generally?” Molly asked, smiling back. “Or in relation to yesterday’s fight?”

      “Both.”

      “He’s fine. Thank you.”

      “Glad to hear it.” His easy smile