Prologue

Harper Gaines silenced her cellphone when it vibrated in her scrubs pocket before getting back to the lance corporal, whose leg she was currently bending. “Just like that. And out. Don’t forget to exhale.” She guided him through the exercise twice more before stepping back slightly to have him perform the rest himself. He was making great progress, and she was certain he’d be released from the VA Hospital for this particular injury in a matter of weeks.

Her phone buzzed again, and she took it discreetly from her pants. Her eyes widened, and she smiled her pleasure as she brought it to her ear, turning slightly to shield her conversation while still allowing a view of the Marine’s form. “Tucker Carlton, I haven’t heard from you in months.”

His voice sounded like he was standing right next to her, though he was probably still in Montrovia, where he was the royal family’s personal physician. “It’s been a madhouse since Bennet…Prince Bennet crashed his racecar. Did you hear about that?”

“Of course.” Even in America, it was big news when a member of a royal family almost died, especially if it was due to some daredevil sport like racing. “How is your patient?”

“Maddening.” His cheerful tone belied his words. “He’s also managed to chase off the second physical therapist just this morning. That’s two in three weeks.”

“Impressive.” When the Marine looked up, she gave him a smile before turning a slight bit more from him. “He sounds like a spoiled brat.”

Tucker hesitated. “Oh, he can be, but he’s a good person too. I’m looking for a resilient physical therapist, who can take his crap and give it right back. Do you know anyone who might be interested in the position?”

Harper frowned as she ran through a mental list of colleagues. “Um, maybe. I have some contacts—”

He interrupted her with a laugh. “I’m talking about you, sweetheart. Are you up for the task?”

Her eyes widened, and she saw the shock in her expression in the full-wall mirror she was partially facing. “Me? But I have a job.”

“And some vacation time, right? And if you tell your boss where you’re going, I’m sure he’d let you take a leave of absence for this assignment. Gotta be good press to have a VA physical therapist get a prince of the Casparian House of Montrovia walking again.”

It was tempting, but she hesitated. “I have patients…”

“Would you like to hear the salary?” Without waiting for an answer, he named a sum that made her eyes cross. “That’s just until he’s up and moving again, so it could be a few weeks.”

“Or months or years. Level with me. Does his injury keep him from being able to walk? Because if it does, I won’t beat a dead horse. He’ll have to accept his limitations and focus on performing the tasks that will help him live as a quadriplegic.” She couldn’t in good conscience take the position with the prince expecting more than she could deliver, even if the payment was enough to completely pay off her remaining student loans.

“Paraplegic,” said Tucker, his voice all business now. “He was initially paralyzed from mid-chest downward, but the corticosteroids and surgery relieved some of the compression. He’s stabilized for now with little sensation below his mid-thigh.”

“Can he walk again?”

Tucker hesitated. “I believe he can, but I’d like your professional opinion. Are you up for an assessment?”

“I’m hardly flying all the way to Strater for an assessment. If I come, it’s to work.”

His grin was obvious in his tone. “I figured, and the capital city is Stratta, not Strater. Can I persuade you?”

Harper held back for a moment before curiosity overwhelmed her. “I think you can, as long as I can arrange a leave-of-absence.”

“Excellent. Let me know as soon as you have a firm decision, and I’ll ask the king’s assistant to arrange your travel. I’m sure Fiona Claremont will be thrilled to have another American sullying up the palace.” He laughed as he finished speaking.

“She sounds charming.”

“Oh, not as charming as Bennet.” He was downright chortling now.

Harper frowned. “You’re making me second-guess my decision, Tuck.”

“Don’t do that, Harp. You won’t regret it, but I won’t sugarcoat it either. You have your work ahead of you.”

She squared her shoulders, catching sight of the resolve in her expression, framed by the short black pixie cut, which emphasized the creaminess of her complexion. “We’d best get started as soon as possible then.”

Optimism spread through her as she hung up and finished the session with the lance corporal. After that, she cleared a leave with her boss—who was just as happy to accommodate as Tucker had speculated—and had a whirlwind schedule faxed to her home by the time she arrived that evening. Smiling down at the itinerary in front of her, she was confident in her decision.