Never Too Late by Julie Blair Page A

out. Everyone had gone home except Jamie, who still had another hour of patients. Maybe she should stay until Jamie finished for the day. She could take payments, work on the billing. Maybe afterward they could go out to dinner.
    She heard Jamie’s voice from the treatment room as she walked past. Just dinner, she told herself. No expectations. Stepping into Jamie’s office, she tried to fit Jamie into the somberness of the room—a heavy Mission-style desk, an old brown leather couch and chairs, dark paneling on the walls, and a hideous Oriental rug.
    She set the forms in a neat pile on Jamie’s desk next to a stack of patient files. Fingering through them she noticed the most recent was five years ago. Marjorie. How did Jamie manage her patient load and find time to piece together what Marjorie had done?
    Carla couldn’t resist sitting in Jamie’s chair. She closed her eyes as she rubbed her palms over the arms. Jamie might not let Sara or Don help, but she wouldn’t be able to turn Carla down. In fact…she wouldn’t even have to know what Carla was doing. She could surprise Jamie with…what…the solution to her business problem all neatly tied up in a bow? Silly. But possible.
    She opened her eyes and looked at the two pictures on the corner of Jamie’s desk. Her heart stopped for a beat and the excitement drained away. The older man was Jamie’s father, the facial features unmistakable. The woman in the other picture had to be Jamie’s partner, the smiles and arms around each other marking them as a happy couple. Jealousy drove her out of the room, and tears wet her cheeks by the time she reached her car. Whatever hope she’d had of ever being part of Jamie’s life tumbled to ruins, leaving her with a terrible emptiness inside.

    *

    Jamie was bone tired by the time she pulled into her driveway. Lights were on and the yawn became a smile. She wouldn’t be eating alone. Steaks, wine, hot tub…
    She set her keys and the grocery bag on the kitchen counter and went to the liquor cabinet. Her father had always ended his day with a Scotch—to ease away the day’s tension, he’d say. The voice of some country singer Jamie didn’t recognize blasted through the house. Turning down the volume she called out, “How about steaks for dinner?”
    “Just a minute,” Sheryl said from the bedroom. Jamie hummed along with the lyrics about lovers reunited. Maybe Sheryl would come out in that new silk robe, the one that clung to her body in delicious ways. Maybe give Jamie one of those long, slow kisses, then pull the tie at her throat and slide the robe suggestively off her shoulders and tell her how much she loved her.
    “I already ate. Sorry. You’re always so late on Fridays.” Sheryl walked into the kitchen and spun in a slow circle, her legs bare. A taupe-colored suit jacket covered a gold silk blouse. “Colors good together? On sale at Macy’s.”
    “Very nice.” Jamie slipped her hands inside the jacket. Not that robe but… “How about if I help you out of it?”
    “I have two more outfits to try on,” Sheryl said, a frown settling on her face. “Please don’t be mad at me, Jamie, but I’m going up to the city for a leadership seminar tomorrow.”
    Jamie stepped back. “You’ll be home in time for the concert, won’t you?”
    “Um, that’s the thing. It’s a two-day seminar—”
    “Sheryl.” Jamie’s disappointment changed to anger. “I bought those tickets for you.”
    “I know, but I just found out about it this morning. The speaker’s a leader in the field.”
    “It was supposed to be a date, Sheryl, where we focus on each other and not on business problems or promotions. I’m scared we’re drifting apart.” Jamie waited for Sheryl to come to her, wrap her arms around her and say, “Of course I’ll go to the concert with you.”
    “We’re not drifting apart. We’re pursuing our goals.”
    “You’ve been going to seminars for years. How does one more make any