The Wrong Man For Her

“And if I do?” He practically spat the words out. “What about us?”

“There is no us, any longer. Right now, we have to think about the victims we can help and what we can do for the Kramers. They were like parents to both of us. We owe them a lot.”

The mention of the role the Kramers had played in Nick’s life diluted some of his rage. Okay, so he should stay at the Center. Hell, he wanted to. But, man, he hadn’t signed on for this. He wasn’t sure he could do it. Yet, did he really have a choice? “I guess I can give it a shot.”

“Fine.” She glanced at her watch and stood. “The staff is probably finished with doughnuts and coffee. We should get down there.”

“Wait a second, Maddie.”

She straightened her shoulders. “Please, don’t call me that.”

“What?”

“Maddie.”

“Why?”

She raised an eyebrow, and he remembered that only he, Beth and John had ever used the nickname. For some reason, her admonition ticked him off.

He folded his arms over his chest. “Would you prefer Dr. Walsh?”

“Madelyn is fine.” Without saying more, she turned and headed out the door.

Rattled by the events of the morning, he followed her. Holy hell, could things get any worse?

UNDER THE conference room table, Madelyn gripped her pen and tried to take surreptitious deep breaths. Her voice was even when she said, “Hi, everyone. Sorry we’re late.”

She nodded to Nick, who’d casually sat down in an unoccupied seat at the other end of table, as if he was merely some new employee. Her pounding heart told her differently. It didn’t help that he looked better than ever in his navy sports coat, silk T-shirt and khaki pants; his dark hair fell boyishly over his navy blue eyes. But she’d be damned if she’d reveal her personal reaction to him.

“Some of you, of course, will remember Nick. Those of you who don’t, this is Nick Logan. He’s a psychotherapist, with an undergrad degree in social work and a masters in psychology, specializing in teenagers. He worked at the RCVC for six years then left for a while. He’s back now and is heading up our new teen division. Hiring him was John’s last formal act as director.” She gave everyone a forced smile. “Let’s start today by introducing ourselves. Those of you who don’t know Nick can fill him in on what you do here.”

At her left, John waved. “Hey, there. Glad you’re back, Nick. It means a lot to me.”

“It’s good to be here.” Nobody else would know from his tone of voice, but a little muscle leaped in his jaw telling Madelyn he was anything but happy.

“I’m in-and-out, periodically, and I’m still writing the grants,” John continued. “I guess I couldn’t quit altogether.”

“You have a lot invested.” Madelyn smiled affectionately at John. “I’m thankful for whatever time you can give us.”

She nodded to the next person. Francy greeted Nick and welcomed him back, as did Abe Carpenter and Deanna Gomez, the counselors for adults. Madelyn knew that both Abe and Deanna liked and respected Nick.

“Hi, Nick. I’m Reid Taylor. I came a few months after you left. I’m a social worker and in charge of the new hotline. I also head the education division. I’m sure we’ll be working together on school programs.”

On Reid’s left, Connor Worthington absently straightened his tie. Classically handsome with dark blond hair and somewhat cold gray eyes, he introduced himself as the lawyer on board.

Nick studied the other man. “We have full-time legal help now?”

Connor said no more, just nodded, so Madelyn explained. “The New York State Bar Association voted to give specially selected organizations like ours a grant for legal aid. Connor’s been with us for six months. We also have a lawyer who helps us out pro bono, but since she’s a volunteer she doesn’t make many staff meetings.”

Madelyn nodded to Emma Jones to continue the introductions. “Hello, Nick. I don’t know if you remember me. I started volunteering a few weeks before you left and am now coordinating all the Center’s volunteers. Welcome back.” She gave him a brief rundown on the people at the RCVC who donated their time to do everything from office work, to court accompaniment, to child care when victims went to their myriad appointments.

“Our police rep isn’t able to be here today.” Madelyn finished up with, “And neither is Bethany Hunter. Her son is ill. You remember her, of course.”

Their part-time minister who oversaw all faith-based initiatives was also Madelyn’s best friend, even though Beth had maintained contact with Nick after he left town. The fact that her calming presence wouldn’t be around today had worried Madelyn till dawn, when she’d finally given up on sleep and come here.

Madelyn gestured to Joe, a paramedic who worked at the Center two days a week. “Logan,” Joe said curtly. “Never expected to see you back here.”

There was a brief, uncomfortable moment of silence. Joe’s tone of voice could not be misinterpreted. Only Madelyn, John and Nick knew the reason for his hostility.

Nick’s gaze zeroed in on Joe, and a bit of the old street kid Nick used to be surfaced from beneath the sophisticated exterior. “I bet you didn’t. But the chance to head a newly funded teen division was an offer I couldn’t refuse.” He stared hard at Joe. “Still advising on insurance forms and medical issues?”

“Yep. I also teach self-defense classes a couple times a week.”

Madelyn jumped in. “I guess that’s it for introductions. Nick, you can meet the people who aren’t here and catch up on what they do later. You and I will have more time to talk after the meeting.” She glanced at her agenda, though she knew it by heart. “I’ve tried to keep this short.” She held up a blue paper. “Schedules are due today by three. Leave them with Francy. If you have any questions, see me. I’ll be in my office until five forty-five, except for a meeting with the mayor at eleven.”

Nick frowned down at the paper, then up at her. “What schedules?”

“Since our hours vary according to need, counseling sessions, court visits, et cetera, on Monday I get a schedule of what everyone will be doing that week.”

He tossed the paper aside. “I won’t be able to fill this out.”

“Why?”

“I don’t meet with the kids until Wednesday. I won’t know their requirements until then, which will determine what I do. And I’ll be off-site a lot when I go to their schools.”

“You’ll have to run all that by me.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s protocol.” She winced at the edge in her voice and the vagueness of the comment. “Look, I have to know where everyone is so I can find people if they’re needed by clients. And when emergencies arise.”

Irritation flared in his face. “I see. Anything else new?”

A few of the staff snickered.

“What?”

Francy shook her head. “The reactions are in reference to the luncheon support group we have every Friday.”

“For the clients?”

“No, for the staff.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No,” John said, “she isn’t. It’s something I wholly endorse. The National Crime Prevention Bureau recommends personal reflection and support groups for all employees who work at centers like this.”

Nick ran a hand though his dark hair, disheveling it. “Is participation optional?”