Her Fresh Start Family. Lorraine Beatty

gritted her teeth and tried to keep up. Was he deliberately trying to be offensive? She’d been to a spa once and found it anything but relaxing. She glanced at her host and found him still smiling. His unusual green eyes held a twinkle as he looked down at her. She averted her gaze. Something about the man made her uncomfortable. No doubt his overly solicitous attitude was the source. This Sinclair guy was far too friendly for her liking.

      He pushed the button beside the elevator door and waited while she entered first.

      “Your office is on the second floor.”

      He continued his diatribe, throwing out names and businesses as if she were interested in the other occupants of the building. Stealing a glance at her host, she sorted through her people cubbies to find a good slot in which to file him away. On the surface, he seemed nice enough, but he was trying too hard to be helpful, and that usually meant he’d attempt to insert himself into her life. That was the last thing she wanted. When the elevator opened, she stepped out briskly, hoping he’d point out the right door and then go away.

      “I’m right across the hall.”

      Nina pulled her attention back to the man. “Excuse me?”

      His grin deepened, exposing a dimple on the right side of his mouth that she’d failed to notice before. It was a nice dimple.

      “At the moment, the only businesses on the second floor are yours, mine and David Ellis’s, the photographer. The last office is empty, and back there is the break room.” He pointed to the door to his right. “That’s my company. Phase II. We help veterans with training and job placement, and whatever else they might need when they’re ready to reenter the workforce.”

      Nina’s heart lurched. “Soldiers?”

      “As a matter of fact, we’re organizing our annual Military Appreciation Day event, and we’re always looking for volunteers. We’d welcome your help.”

      “I don’t think so.”

      “You have something against soldiers?”

      He asked the question with a teasing tone in his voice. She cast a stern look in his direction. “Only when they fail to do their job and people die.” Clearly caught off guard, he frowned and rubbed his forehead. The smile left his face, calling attention to the sharp angle of his jaw and his high cheekbones. The clear green eyes had darkened to a dull forest color.

      “Aren’t there dozens of organizations already helping veterans?”

      “There are, but most of them are located two hours away, up in the state capital, and the waiting lists for those organizations are long. The vets need services here, where they live.”

      His sincerity and passion caught her off guard, leaving her without a comeback. Thankfully she spotted the plaque on the wall beside the door on the left. Kathryn Harvey Psychologist. Nina fished out the key Kathryn had sent, but before she could use it, Bret opened the door and smiled down at her. “You have a key to this office?”

      “To all of them. I own the building. Which makes me the landlord. But don’t worry. I don’t enter anyone’s business unless it’s an emergency.”

      “Is that what this is?”

      He chuckled as if she’d said something funny. The rich, throaty sound sent a quick ping along her nerves.

      “No. I’m the welcome committee. I promised Kitty I’d help you settle in. When you get a free moment, I’ll introduce you to the others. We all try and look out for one another.”

      Nina shrank in on herself. She needed to escape his overly helpful greeting right now. “That’s very kind, but I don’t need any help, and I doubt I’ll have much time for socializing.”

      She squared her shoulders and marched into the small reception area, striving for an air of supreme confidence that would deter any further help. Instead she caught her heel in the overly plush carpet and tripped, quickly regaining her balance. Pulse racing, she placed her belongings on the desk and turned to face him. “Thank you for your help. I can take it from here.”

      His hand was outstretched as if he’d intended to steady her, which he could easily have done, given his broad, well-developed shoulders and forearms. The black polo shirt with the Phase II logo on the breast pocket, and the faded jeans he wore, made it obvious that he enjoyed working out.

      “Those shoes are dangerous. You could hurt yourself.”

      Incredible. First a makeover, and now her shoes? Criticism was the last thing she needed at this moment. Her nerves were frayed. She attempted a firm expression. “Mr. Sinclair, I have a lot of studying to do before I see my first patient. I’m sure you’ll understand if I don’t have time to visit.”

      He stared at her for a moment, his green eyes probing, making her regret her retort. She reminded herself she was here to fill in for Kathryn and reacquaint herself with working one-on-one with private patients. Not to get chummy with the natives.

      “Okay then. If you need anything or have any questions, I’m right over there.” He gestured to the office across the hall.

      She grasped the doorknob and met his gaze. The puzzlement in his eyes turned the green to a dull moss color. Very curious.

      “Sure thing.” He started out the door, but stopped it from closing with his hand. She couldn’t help but notice it was a very attractive hand with long blunt fingers at the end of a muscled forearm. She pressed her lips together. She was more stressed than she thought. The man was smiling again.

      “Dottie will be here shortly. She knows everything there is to know about Kitty’s patients. Except the private stuff, of course.”

      Nina managed a stiff smile and pushed on the door again. Finally the man left, and she leaned against the door, taking a few deep breaths to calm her nerves. Silence. Alone. Now she could think and process.

      As she turned around, she caught sight of him entering his office, and he lifted his hand in a wave. To her dismay, she could see a great deal of his offices through the row of glass windows. Great. The man was a serious threat to her powers of concentration. Reaching up, she closed the blinds, restoring her sense of security.

      Her gaze took in the tastefully decorated area, which was furnished with a reception desk, a half dozen comfortable chairs and a coffee table piled with magazines. To the right of the desk was a door, which she guessed led to her friend’s office. Given Kathryn’s bubbly personality, she’d expected frilly, feminine decor, but the room had been decorated in calm and soothing tones of green and eggshell—perfect for helping patients relax.

      An assortment of upholstered furniture in a muted fabric filled the space. Kathryn’s desk sat at one end of the room, in front of a wall of shelves holding countless books. A tall file cabinet stood nearby.

      A quick check of the other doors revealed a small bathroom and a tiny lunch room. The arrangement suited her. She could come to work and never have to leave the office until the end of the day. Perfect.

      A folder with her name on it rested in the middle of the desk. She sat down and opened the cover and read the letter inside. Kathryn started off by apologizing for not being there to help her get settled. The job overseas had opened up sooner than expected, and they’d had to leave. She explained that she had transferred the most critical patients to other qualified professionals. The rest, she had assured her, were mainly in need of weekly talk time and reassurance.

      In addition, Kathryn had given her a schedule, a patient list and all the information she’d need to do her job. She’d also encouraged her to take on new patients if she wanted. But the last item on the list sent her heart into her throat. Once a week, she would be counseling a group of widows who were working through the changes in their lives as they started to move beyond the initial grieving period and transition into a normal life.

      Nina touched her trembling fingertips to her lips. No. She couldn’t possibly counsel widows. She was a widow, and she’d avoided dealing with her loss for the last several years.