The third floor was much quieter and less crowded with advertising. Dakota twisted her name tag around so the back side faced out.

“You’re checking out that doctor.” Mary looked around and lowered her voice.

“You’re smarter than all that blonde hair implies.”

Mary pushed her shoulder and offered a playful frown. Dakota was always giving Mary crap about all her hair. The snarky comments stemmed from sheer jealousy. Mary might complain about how her hair took on a life of its own, but every inch of it was beautiful and the envy of many.

Two volunteers sat behind a small table with a slew of packets and registration sheets.

Dakota offered a practiced smile and turned to the women at the table. “I’ve lost my itinerary,” she told them.

Without question, the woman picked up the doctor conference pamphlet and handed it over. “No problem, Dr. . . .”

Dakota didn’t offer a name, simply took the material and thanked the woman.

“How do you do that?” Mary asked as Dakota led her friend away.

“Do what?” She opened the conference schedule and scanned the list of doctors . . . focusing on one name. Walt stuck out like a cat in a room full of dogs.

“Make people think you belong when you don’t?”

Sure enough, Dr. Walt Eddy’s first scheduled class was in her room . . . but where had they put him? She glanced around, found a handwritten change in venue billboard along the main hall.

“I belong.” She twisted and started toward the room to which the hotel had moved Dr. Eddy.

Dakota found the room and turned. “This won’t take long. Meet you downstairs for a double shot latte in ten?”

Mary eyed the door with a frown. “You were kind of mean to him, ya know.”

“Which means I need to kiss some ass.”

Mary laughed. “You don’t kiss anyone’s ass.”

If it’s cute enough I will.

“Ten minutes, at the coffee shop.”

“Fine!” Mary twisted on her heel and waved behind her. “Be nice, Dr. Laurens.”

With a laugh, Dakota opened the door and slid inside.

The room was a postage stamp, and it appeared that Dr. Eddy had quite a following. The chairs were filled and several people were standing along the walls.

“. . . are you saying we should use duct tape to stop the bleeding?” The question came from a man in the fifth row.

Dr. Eddy stood leaning against the desk. His hands clutched the sides, his eyes met those of the man asking the question.

“I’m saying that if you’re the only one there and duct tape will keep your patient alive, then you damn well better use it.”

“But if the removal of the tape—”

“Skin issues don’t mean a whole lot on the dead, Doctor.”

The door behind Dakota squeaked as one of the conference volunteers entered and signaled that Dr. Eddy’s time was up.

His hazel eyes skidded past the volunteer and landed directly on Dakota.

He paused and the fierce passion he had for the discussion started to fade.

“That’s all the time we have now. I’ll be available to answer individual questions outside and throughout the conference.”

Funny, he was addressing the class, but looking at her.

The hair on Dakota’s arms stood on end.

Just like during her classes, some people moved from the room while others lingered.

Dr. Eddy stood where he was and pulled his gaze away from hers, directed it to those who approached him.

She eased her way to the front of the room, smiled at those who passed her and offered an appreciative glance.

“Thank you . . .” one of the conference attendees said while shaking Dr. Eddy’s hand. “One of the things that worried me most about joining Borderless Doctors you just blew out of the water.”

Dakota stood back and listened to the exchange.

She knew Dr. Eddy watched her out of the corner of his eye as he gathered his material and shoved it in his briefcase.

“Why did you choose emergency medicine, Dr. . . . ?”

“Daniels. Sounds cliché but I wanted to help the helpless. The ones in severe crisis.”

“Let me guess . . . politics, insurance . . . malpractice . . . everything gets in the way of you doing the right thing for the patient?”

Dr. Daniels let loose a long sigh. “Exactly!”

Dr. Eddy met Dr. Daniels’s eyes. “You’re no different than anyone else in the room. A few weeks of your life a year and you’ll remember why you lived on coffee during your residency.” He slipped the younger doctor a card and shook his hand. “We have our own set of politics, but it’s nothing like it is in your paying job.”

Dr. Daniels glanced at the card and walked away with a smile.

Another suit-wearing man, probably another doctor, lifted his hand to Dakota so that she might have her turn with Dr. Eddy.

Walt stood, snapped his case together, and waited.

“I believe I owe you a drink, Doctor.”

Somewhere behind his eyes, a smile grew . . . but it had yet to make an appearance.

“It’s a little early for alcohol, Miss Laurens.”

He remembered her name. The thought had her holding back a smile.

Beside them, the man waiting to speak with Walt watched, and Dakota wasn’t oblivious to the scene and how it might play out to an unsuspecting audience.

All of it . . . every second recorded in her brain as a scene from one of her novels.