“Val, I have to check my schedule. I’ll come if I can.” She holds the back of her hand against his smooth face. His hair has been freshly cut in a style she loves on him. The cream-colored sweater he wears over faded blue jeans is one of her favorite looks on him—casual, yet elegantly understated. His blue eyes pierce her with longing. God, how she loves this man. He is everything she ever dreamed she wanted. She smiles to herself at the notion of loving him this way, this much, a year ago when she was in Mexico and he’d been hired to rescue her. She didn’t care much for his macho, highhanded ways back then, but she has learned to appreciate most of his ways now. He is sexy and romantic and no-nonsense, and he loves her beyond reason, and she knows it. He had been hard on her during their short time together in Mexico, then after, as they settled into a life together. That has not changed much. She has had to reconcile herself to life with a man who sees nothing wrong with putting her over his knee for a spanking when he feels she needs it—and since their reconciliation in San Diego, at Basil and Genoveva’s wedding, he apparently feels she needs it often. Most of the time it is playful and sexy, but a couple of times the sessions have been anything but. He is protective and very clear about safety issues, given what he did for a living, and as his wife, as he so chauvinistically put it, she would place her safety and health at the top of her priorities, or she would suffer the consequences. She does not test him on safety issues, but she has defied him and played the shrew enough times to know what those actions cost.

A trip to Denver wouldn’t be so bad. She could sight-see in town, and meet up with him after his whateveritwas he was there to do. Spending time with him, no matter where or when, is what she enjoys most.

“Alright, babe?” she says. “I’ll come if I can.”

“Good enough.”

They talk little while they walk, preferring the gentle noises of the wind and the forest thawing to their own voices. They hear the noises of someone walking in the snow, and they turn in time to see Bas enter through a clump of trees.

“Val, I just got a call from Goldman...hi, D.”

“Hi, Bas.” She clings to Val’s arm while Basil speaks. Genoveva will arrive later this evening. Diana can’t wait to see her.

“Marquez is going to trial and they’re going to want testimony, especially from Diana.”

Val’s eyes turn black. “Diana…?” he turns to her. “Why?”

“Uh…” Bas catches the fear in Diana’s eyes. He has said too much.

“If you had no dealings with him, like I requested of you, then why do you need to testify?”

“Look, uh…” Bas begins again.

“Leave us,” Val says, never taking his eyes off Diana.

“Shit…” Bas mumbles. “Diana, I’m…”

“Leave us, please, Bas.”

She stands, now, arms crossed and defiant. She is a doctor, and she treats people. She does not have the luxury, like he does, of deciding who is worthy and who is not.

“I’m a doctor, Val…”

He holds up his hand. “No. We discussed this…”

“No, you discussed this!”

“And you agreed. I expressed my point of view about his man, and about this particular case, and I told you I did not want you involved, did I not?”

“You did, but…”

“And you promised me you would let this one go, let another renowned surgeon deal with him, and his ilk…is that not correct, jovencita?”

Uh oh.

“Did you, or did you not promise me you would pawn him off on someone else, so that I would not have to worry that one day we’d smell him again in our lives?”

He is furious. His hands are on his hips, his legs apart for balance, and he is so angry he is sputtering.

She looks down at her shoes.

“Diana?”

She shakes her head and looks around—anywhere but at him.

“Did you make me a promise, jovencita, then fail to keep it?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

He narrows his eyes. “I shall await your explanation.”

“How could I have promised you something I’d done already?”

“Mande?”

“I’d done the surgery already when you asked me not to. It was done.”

He stares at her for a long time before speaking again. “Then why didn’t you tell me that at the time?”

“I didn’t want to deal with you. You were so adamant that I not get involved…”

He speaks slowly now, his tone firm, his resolve set. “Yes, I was adamant, and for good reason.” He moves past her a few feet to a large bush dusted with snow. He snaps off a branch and turns to her. “So, you prefer, then, to deal with me now.” He pulls the small leaves off the green, smooth bough, thick as her middle finger on the end he held in his hand, and half the thickness at the other.

She shakes her head and backs away.

“Take your pants down.”

No. She shakes her head. No. No way.

“I said take your pants down. Now.”