on his hips.
The old familiar fight-or-flight sensation churned inside Liam, and he had to take a moment to reframe his urge to quarrel.
Reframe. That was the technique that the grief counselor had taught Liam when he felt like lashing out in anger. Of all the stages of grief, he seemed to fluctuate between feeling nothing—or as the counselor called it, “denial”—and wanting to lash out in anger. Or so thought the powers-that-be at the hospital who had forced him into counseling.
Those authorities had given him two choices: get help or take a sabbatical. Liam had still had enough of a handle on himself to know that he’d end up self-destructing if he had chosen the sabbatical. He couldn’t be alone with himself for that long. Despite how he craved more time with the girls, they were so busy with school and their ballet program that he’d have way too much time on his hands. That wouldn’t be good for the girls or his career.
Cullen Dunlevy had been one of the proponents of the ultimatum, and Liam still wasn’t sure if he’d forgiven Cullen yet. As the chief of staff walked toward him, Liam knew that he’d better cool his jets or face the possible repercussions of Cullen pronouncing that the counseling wasn’t working or that Liam wasn’t trying hard enough.
But, damn him to hell, Cullen Dunlevy hadn’t lost a wife; he wasn’t left to raise two children and navigate alone the phase of his life when he and his high school sweetheart, his life partner, his soul mate, should’ve been dreaming of growing old together.
Damn Cullen Dunlevy. He’d never been married, and he didn’t have a clue what Liam was going through. Liam had to grind his molars to keep from spitting out his angry words at his boss.
Instead, he watched Cullen stand there with a disappointed scowl turning down the edges of his mouth, and his eyes darkened with... With what? Anger? Disappointment? Disgust? Liam felt like the wayward brother about to be set straight.
Dunlevy lowered his voice. “I know you’ve been through hell and back, but you have to get a hold of yourself. We’ve already had this talk, Liam.”
“I understand,” Liam countered in a monotone. “But my private life is private. My time away from the hospital is mine. I don’t remember anything in my contract about fund-raising or bachelor auctions—”
“There is a clause in your contract that talks about performance bonuses. But if money doesn’t motivate you, you know Joy would’ve wanted you to do this. She was one of the biggest proponents of the new pediatric wing.”
Liam gritted his teeth harder. He had to keep from shouting or turning and punching a wall. Instead, he hissed the words in a low growl, “Dammit, Cullen, don’t you dare go there. You leave Joy out of this. I said I’m happy to make a donation to the cause, and I think that’s plenty.”
“Do you?” asked Dunlevy. “You think that’s plenty? Even though you are the senior staff member of pediatrics, the department that this fund-raiser is supporting? You don’t think you should be there to represent it? I’m going to be there, putting myself on the auction block.”
There was an edge to the chief of staff’s voice, and Liam knew he was pushing it. But, damn Cullen to hell, he’d had the audacity to bring Joy’s name into it. Because of that, Liam knew if he answered Cullen right now, Liam might come undone. Exactly how, he wasn’t sure, but he didn’t want to test the situation.
So he only tilted his head. “What is this? Peer pressure?”
Dunlevy heaved an exasperated sigh. “Look, I feel for you. We all feel for you. Losing Joy was...” He trailed off. His face softened, and he shook his head. “It was awful and unfair, but you can’t keep being pissed off at the world. I need you to come back to the team.”
Liam found his voice. “I haven’t gone anywhere. I’m still here.”
That look returned to the chief of staff’s eyes. “You’ve been here in body but not in mind and spirit. Liam, before this happened, you were an opinion maker. The others have always looked up to you. They still do. I could really use your help with this project.”
Project? “You mean farce?”
“Get off your high horse,” Dunlevy said. “You know this is all in good fun. And, most important, it’s for a great cause. We are seven single doctors. That alone is going to make headlines—we’re going to be on television. This auction will draw every eligible socialite in the Dallas/Fort Worth area. They will bring their checkbooks to bid on bachelors who are doctors.”
Liam knew it wouldn’t do any good to argue that he didn’t feel single. That his heart wasn’t single. That he’d tried trusting a woman too soon after Joy’s death and it had ended in disaster. But he knew the tactic the chief of staff would take. Cullen wasn’t asking any of them to get married or even take this bachelor auction debacle seriously. It was one night—well, two, if you counted the night of public humiliation and the ensuing date.
“I’m going to lay it out plain and simple,” said Dunlevy. “You’re the most senior staff member after me. I’m not going to force you into this, but I’ll say it again—I really could use your help.”
The words hung in the air between them, an unspoken ultimatum.
Finally the chief of staff shrugged. “You think about it, Liam. Let me know when you’ve decided to be part of this team again.”
Chapter Two
Joy Thayer.
Holy cow. It all made sense now, Kate thought as she stood in the empty break room of the Macintyre Family Foundation offices. She wrapped her hands around a mug of steaming-hot tea, letting the comforting warmth seep into her fingers and melt away some of the morning’s stress.
Joy Thayer was Liam Thayer’s late wife.
No wonder he was bereft.
After the meeting, as she had been waiting for the elevator, she’d glimpsed a memorial plaque that was displayed alongside the pictures of the hospital’s board of trustees. She’d put two and two together as she was leaving the hospital, and had been haunted by the revelation ever since.
As much as she’d prepared for the presentation to the hospital’s senior staff members, she hadn’t planned on hitting a land mine like Liam Thayer. She wished that Dr. Dunlevy had informed her that she had a widower in the bunch—and not just any widower, Joy Thayer’s widower—before she’d so exuberantly rolled out the bachelor auction plan at the meeting.
Dr. Thayer had obviously still not come to terms with his wife’s death. Not that one ever fully recovered from something like that. Kate had experienced enough tragedy in her own life to understand.
Even though she’d only met Joy Thayer once—when the woman had single-handedly organized a fashion show luncheon to benefit the pediatric surgical wing early in the process—Kate had been touched by Joy’s untimely death. The entire population of the Dallas metropolitan area had gone into mourning.
Joy Thayer was the type of charismatic good soul that everyone wanted to know and loved instantly. She radiated warmth and charm. And, as if all that niceness and class weren’t enough, she had been gorgeous. One of the elements that Kate remembered best about Joy—besides her petite stature and fine-boned features—was the riot of strawberry-blond curls that hung
