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home.”
    “It doesn’t work that way.” Displeasure narrowed the doctor’s eyes, and his sand-colored brows drew together.
    “I want to leave.” Struggling upright, Jamie grabbed the rail of the gurney.
    Dr. Marshall huffed out a breath. “Look. I can’t discharge you without someone to be responsible for you, even AMA. You’ve had a strong pain med, and you have a mild concussion. Right now, you’re not competent.”
    “Competent?” Jamie glared. He didn’t have to stay here. He hadn’t wanted to come here in the first place. This guy was as bad as Vince. “You saying I can’t make my own decisions?”
    “I’m saying the drugs can affect your ability to decide what’s best for you. It’s a matter of safety.” Dr. Marshall stepped forward and covered Jamie’s hand with his, gave him a gentle squeeze.
    No mastery or show of superior strength in that touch, not like Vince. Not clinical either. Warmth and reassurance and something like friendship. Jamie relaxed. “I guess I can call my sister.”
    “I’ll bring you the phone.”
    The smile on the doctor’s face melted the last of Jamie’s resistance like beeswax in sunlight.
    * * * *
    Almost done. Pacing outside Jamie’s cubicle, Remy glanced at the clock.
    Ankle splinted, script filled, physician instructions given. With luck, someone could be here to get the patient within the hour. Remy could run home, shower, and still meet Brett and the mystery man for dinner. Better call.
    “Hello, sweetness,” Brett cooed. “Ready to rumba?”
    “Not exactly. Something came up and I’m going to be late.”
    “Don’t tell me you’re at work.” Brett’s snippy tone implied personal affront. “I happen to know you have this week off to train for your race.”
    “I ran into this guy in the park—”
    “So you’re blowing off a prearranged date in favor of someone you just met? Hmph.”
    God . Brett could be such a bitch sometimes. “No. I literally ran into him. I wasn’t looking where I was going and slammed into the guy. He fractured his ankle. At minimum, I had to drive him to the ER.”
    After sulking in silence for a few moments, Brett said, “Okay. I can push the reservation back to seven. Can you make it by then?”
    “I think so.”
    “Good. Because this guy really wants to meet you.”
    Remy rolled his eyes. More than likely the guy really wanted to meet a doctor and the doctor’s checkbook. “See you at seven.”
    He took another loop around the ER and stopped outside Jamie’s cubicle. All was silent within. He leaned toward the curtain. “Jamie?”
    “Come in.”
    Pulling back the curtain, Remy swallowed. Hard. A zing of attraction shot through him. Jamie had slid off the hospital gown, revealing a muscular but slender frame. Pale skin, with a dusting of golden hair turning into a trail that disappeared under the waistband of his cargo shorts.
    Remy dragged his gaze up to Jamie’s. “Any luck?”
    Jamie took a deep breath, whooshed it out. “My sister can come. But not until Wednesday.”
    Wednesday. Four days from now . “Someone else, maybe? A friend? Neighbor?”
    Jamie shook his head and stared at the wall. “I just moved here a couple of weeks ago. I don’t know anyone in the area.”
    Great . Remy had managed to disable a lone man with no social resources. The dinner date looked more and more impossible by the moment. Guilt pressed on his shoulders. Maybe he should get a social worker involved. “You can’t stay alone.”
    “So you said.”
    “Anyone else you can call?”
    “One other possibility.”

Chapter Three
    Jamie couldn’t believe he was going to do this. He’d only met the guy in the next motel efficiency a couple of times. Simon had seemed like an okay guy, just down on his luck. A legal separation from his wife had led him to move into the Western Inn. Everyone there was in transition from one stage of life to another, one residence to another. One relationship to another. It was an eclectic