Free Straight from the Heart by Tami Hoag

patients. Their sometimes ribald comments meant nothing to her, they were sheer bravado. Jace’s were sheer torture.
    “It’s your entire attitude that bothers me, Jace,” she said, calling on the vast reserves of anger she had stored up against him. The only thing that made any sense to her in this situation was keeping him at least an arm’s length away. “I won’t have you turning my therapy department into a three-ring circus. You came here to work, not to hold fan club meetings.”
    “Hey, I didn’t invite those people in here,” he said, lifting his hands innocently.
    “Tell me you weren’t enjoying the attention,” Rebecca said sarcastically.
    “I’m a minor celebrity. It goes with the territory. What was I supposed to do? Shoot them? Ward them off with a rope of garlic? Maybe I should have come in incognito.” His eyes twinkled with sudden mischief. “I could have worn my Tommy Lasorda costume.”
    The ludicrous image made the corners of Rebecca’s mouth quirk. She clearly remembered the costume party Jace had dragged her to seven years before. She had ended up having the time of her life. Naturally, Jace had stolen the show with his impersonation of the well-known Dodger manager. Now Rebecca pressed a fist to her lips to keep from laughing.
    It must have been the lack of sleep, she thought. She was suddenly feeling giddy instead of angry. Naturally she didn’t want to consider the possibility that her weird state of mind had anything to do with being alone in a room with Jace. She didn’t want to think he could disarm her so easily.
    “Just a minor celebrity, huh?” she questioned. “Are you always so modest?”
    “No.” He chuckled, picking up her paperweight and tossing it from hand to hand. “Are you always so pleasant to your patients first thing in the morning?”
    “No.” Her green eyes glittered like peridots. “Sometimes I get PMS.”
    For a moment they laughed together like old friends, and Jace took hope. Rebecca’s wounds were still tender, but they hadn’t totally scarred her heart. She could still laugh with him. She would love with him again in time, if he were lucky and careful. It was going to take just the right combination of pushing and coaxing and convincing her he had changed. He felt as if he were walking a tightrope over a mine field, but the reward at the end of the line was going to be worth it.
    He’d spent half the night picturing them as a family—himself and Becca and Justin. Justin. He made a mental note to call his mother and ask her if he’d had freckles when he was six.
    “Maybe we should start the day over,” he suggested. Immediately he thought of the way he would have liked the day to have started—with Becca in his arms. It had been pure masochism to lay in bed remembering what it was like to have her there beside him, to wake up with her cuddled against him. With an effort he pushed the image away.
    It was a safe bet Becca hadn’t slept any better than he had. Of course, he’d given up betting, but the fact remained that there were shadows under her eyes and her temper was obviously on a short leash. He’d seen the light burning in her bedroom window until past midnight.
    “Truce?” he asked.
    For a long moment Rebecca stood considering the possibilities. Maybe if they declared a truce, the war inside her would stop raging as well. She could still keep her distance from him, and she wouldn’t constantly be wearing herself out with anger. She thought of the list she’d made of ways to handle the situation with Jace. Hadn’t her solution essentially been a truce? She had told herself to treat him as she would any old acquaintance and put the past behind her.
    “Truce,” she said, nodding. “But you have to understand the ground rules, Jace. This is my ballpark, I’m the manager and the head umpire. It’s essential that I maintain a certain level of control. Do you understand?”
    He understood. She was telling him to keep his