Heart of Ice. Diana Palmer

was only one course to follow. At work, Natalie would be all business, signaling Patrick to keep his distance.

      They’d pretend that their going to bed together never happened. At least they could still work together, sharing the closeness they’d developed over these past five years. And she’d hang on to her pride.

      But she’d discovered a passion in herself that had lain dormant all her days. Even when she was married, she’d never felt more than passing pleasure. With Patrick, only with Patrick, did she truly come alive.

      It hurt to know that she might never hold him again, but that was all right. Natalie could bear it, as long as she didn’t lose him entirely.

      ON MONDAY Patrick had a headache. He knew it was partly from overindulging in rum punch the previous day and partly from listening to the construction work going on downstairs.

      The East Wing, which housed the administration services and the radiology department, was one of three structures that made up Doctors Circle, along with the Birthing Center and the West Wing office building. Downstairs in the East Wing, space formerly rented by an outside pediatric clinic was being converted into an infertility center.

      Wham-wham-wham! went something that sounded like a pile driver, although Patrick couldn’t imagine why such heavy equipment was needed. The pounding throbbed right through his brain.

      He had a lot of work to do today, catching up on paperwork and planning for the next big fund-raising event, an Oktoberfest celebration. Yesterday’s donations, while generous, paled before the amount of money needed to cushion the center against the sort of financial upheaval that had nearly swamped it a few years earlier.

      Patrick fumbled in his drawer for an aspirin. No such luck. Wouldn’t you know that in a medical office the last thing you could find was a simple pain remedy?

      He punched the intercom. “Nat? Could you come in here, please?”

      “Yes, sir,” she replied crisply.

      A moment later, Natalie entered his office. The breezy woman from the yacht had vanished. Today, her hair was pinned back and her body hidden beneath a trim navy-and-white suit with a red scarf at the throat.

      Patrick peered at her blearily across his broad oak desk. At the moment, he was in no shape to try to renew their camaraderie. “I was hoping you had an aspirin,” he managed to say. “I can’t think straight.”

      “Sorry. I’m not authorized to dispense medication.”

      He insisted on strict rules, but not that strict. “You don’t need an M.D. to hand out aspirin.”

      Natalie smiled. “That was a joke. Guess you’re not in the mood, huh? Hold on, I’ll get you some.”

      “Doesn’t it bother you?” he asked. “I mean, World War III going on downstairs?”

      “The assistant head of accounting and the chief radiologist came in to complain.” Clearly, they hadn’t fazed Natalie, who looked cool and collected as usual. “I reminded them that they used to beef about the noisy kids from the pediatric clinic. At least this is temporary. Hold on.”

      She ducked out, leaving an image of angelic freshness imprinted on Patrick’s brain. Despite the fact that his head felt swollen to the size of a basketball, he took pleasure in his secretary’s appearance.

      For years he’d tried not to notice her bright blue eyes and lively face. Especially he’d struggled to ignore the figure that, despite the cloaking effect of her tailored suits, was nothing short of delicious.

      Patrick had never expected to breach the unspoken barrier between director and employee. He knew himself, and getting involved with any woman, particularly one he worked with, was a losing proposition. It also appeared that he might be taking advantage of his position, something he had no intention of doing.

      Yet their lovemaking had surpassed anything in his experience. Even with a blinding headache, he was ready—well, almost ready—for a rematch, if only he could figure out what to do about his aching morals.

      The door squeaked as Natalie returned with two pills and a cup of water. “Here you go.” She handed them over.

      When their hands touched, an awareness of her heat and vibrancy pulsed through Patrick. Against his will, desire quickened his blood. “I feel better already.”

      “You haven’t taken them yet.”

      “I don’t really need to—” Wham-wham-wham! went the downstairs equipment, dispelling his objections. Up went the cup and down went the pills. “What on earth are they doing?” he asked when he could speak again.

      “I think they’re chipping away some tile,” Natalie said.

      Patrick should have known that, since he’d been involved in every step of the remodeling plans. But right now, with the sight of Natalie stirring male hormones into a frenzy, he couldn’t recall much of anything.

      He needed to find out how she felt. “About yesterday…” he began.

      “I’m fine,” she said. “Now, I’d better get back to my desk.” She turned to leave.

      “Nat!”

      “Yes, sir?”

      “First of all, stop calling me sir.”

      “Yes, Doctor,” she said.

      Patrick regarded her in confusion. He was much better at formulating goals and taking command than at reading people, especially the people closest to him. “We need to discuss where we stand.”

      Natalie took a deep breath, a movement that swelled her generous breasts. Patrick’s hands still retained an impression of their softness, centered by the stiff arousal of her nipples. Oh, he was sure in control of himself today, wasn’t he, he thought wryly.

      “I was hoping we wouldn’t have to talk about last night,” she said.

      Patrick respected her privacy, but he felt he owed her. “Please, have a seat. If I offended you last night, I apologize.”

      “You didn’t. Not at all.” Natalie perched on the edge of an upholstered chair. “It was just as much my fault.”

      “I’m your employer, which makes the responsibility all mine.”

      “Look, Dr. Barr.” She leveled her blue gaze at him, to devastating effect. He wanted her so much he could hardly breathe. “Let’s pretend the incident never happened.”

      “What incident?”

      “You and me…on the boat!” Natalie gave an angry little bounce on her chair.

      “You’re referring to our lovemaking as an incident?” For Patrick, the experience had been delirious. And, of course, a huge error in judgment.

      “I’m being discreet,” Natalie said. “Which is a quality we both lost on your boat, along with our clothes.”

      “I agree,” he said reluctantly. “Nevertheless—”

      “The point is, we’re simply not suited to each other.” Natalie had retreated behind a mask. “What happened was great, but it was a one-time thing.”

      Patrick knew he ought to feel relieved. Her practical attitude meant they could get on with their work, which was what mattered, but he was oddly reluctant to let her go. “We should discuss this over dinner.”

      “In this town, if we ate dinner together, everyone would be gabbing about it,” Natalie said.

      “We’ve eaten dinner together before,” he said.

      “In the cafeteria with stacks of files between us. That doesn’t count.” His secretary stood up. “Look, Dr. Barr, there’s no point in arguing about it. Last night was—what do you call it?—an anomaly. Let’s go back to the way things were. No hard feelings, okay?”

      Patrick