Solitaire by Lindsay McKenna

top. Maine’s summer weather was usually on the cool side, but at eight o’clock this bright August morning, it was already a sunny seventy degrees.
    “We’ll see about that, doctor,” she told him dryly. Cat automatically touched her tightly taped ribs. Two of the lowest had been broken and if the break had been any higher, her breasts would have prevented the elastic torso wrap from being applied.
    “Mr. Donovan’s a paramedic, you know,” the physician said, hurriedly scribbling his signature on the last paper.
    “Is he?” Cat looked up with interest.
    “Yes, a very capable one. I’ve given him a list of all the prescriptions you might need, Cathy. He’s going to be watching you rather closely for the next couple of weeks because of your head injury. Let him know if you ever get dizzy.”
    Dizzy? The first time she’d sat up, she’d nearly keeled over. If it hadn’t been for Slade’s quick action, she would have fallen off the bed. At first, Cat had retreated from his watchfulness; she was unused to being confined by an ailing body and resented being taken care of. But after three days, Slade had remained his cheerful, positive self and Cat had had to beg him not to tell any more jokes. She had feared she would laugh out loud, and that awful, ripping pain would take her breath away. Slade’s normally ebullient personality had sobered slightly, then shifted into a new gear–that of charming conversationalist.
    A nurse arrived with the wheelchair for Cat’s ride to the front doors of the hospital. “The dizziness may or may not be permanent,” Dr. Scott warned, helping her into the chair. “The next two weeks will tell us quite a lot. Off you go, now. I understand you’ve an air trip ahead. Mr. Donovan’s quite a good pilot.”
    Cat couldn’t resist a smile. “Did he tell you that?”
    “No, I saw his flight logbook sitting with some other items. Being a pilot myself, I got him talking. He’s not only multiengine rated, he’s up on all the instrumentation demands, too. Judging from the hours he’s flown, I’ll lay you odds he flies around the world. He certainly has a lot of stories to tell.”
    “Slade Donovan is a born storyteller, I suspect. Thank you, doctor, for everything.”
    “Have a good flight, Cathy. We’ll be eager to hear how you’re progressing.”
    At the curbside outside the hospital, the nurse eased the wheelchair to a halt. Slade was waiting next to the rental car for her. He was dressed in a freshly pressed blue shirt with epaulets on each shoulder. The shirt matched the color of his eyes, Cat thought. She had to stop herself from staring as if she were a gawky teenager instead of a woman older than thirty. His hair was dark and shining from a recent shower, his skin smooth of the stubble that always gave him a five o’clock shadow by four o’clock.
    As Cat took his large hand and stood up, she suddenly saw Slade in a new light. His touch, as always, sent a warm rush through her. He had brought sunshine to her during her recent exile to Hades. She closed her eyes, allowing a fleeting feeling of dizziness to pass. Slade, observing her hesitation, moved closer to her left side, in case she should fall. Cat opened her eyes and raised her face to the sun.
    “Do you know how good it feels to be outside again?” she asked, drawing in a deep breath of fresh air.
    “Spoken like a true tunneler,” Slade replied. His fingers tightened on her elbow. “Ready? I’ve got Maggie all fueled and waiting.”
    “Maggie?” Cat looked up at Slade tentatively.
    Slade helped her into the front seat of the rental car and then shut the door. “Yeah, Maggie’s my twin-engine Cessna. And she’s as pretty as her name.”
    The sun shone warmly through the windows and a fragrant scent of pine drifted in, making the day magical for Cat. As Slade eased into the car, he flashed her a heart-stopping smile. “You’ll like Maggie. She’s built like a sleek greyhound. Red and white, lean and