Don

"Everything is going to be ice-cold if you don't get out here," Natalie's father threatened.

"Coming?" Natalie rushed from her bedroom into the roomy country kitchen filled with morning light. Sunshine bounced off the copper bottoms of cookware hanging above an island range, and plants cascaded from pots sitting around the many windows. Exercising his amateur interest in architecture, Andrew St. John had designed the house for his bride Kira and had it constructed on a beautiful piece of land ru

"Sorry, Dad," she said, taking her seat and picking up a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice. "I'm not used to being served breakfast."

"That boyfriend of yours not willing to cook a simple meal now and then?" Andrew asked, scooping up scrambled eggs.

Natalie set down her glass, groaning silently. Her father had never liked Ke

"Yes, a vet, not an M.D."

"Dad, I'm a vet."

"Who should have been an M.D."

Natalie sighed. This was an old argument. Old and impossible for her to win. Years ago Andrew had decided his daughter would become a surgeon like him. She'd balked. She had wanted to be a veterinarian since she was twelve, and she'd done exactly as she pleased. Andrew had not been happy about her career choice. He hadn't been happy about the most important romantic involvement of her life, either.

"Dad, I love animals and I love being a vet," she said patiently. "And as for Ke

Her mind drifted to three days ago when she'd come home early. Walking in on Ke

"Natalie!" Ke

"What it seems?" she asked, amazed by her calm voice when her entire body seemed to be quivering. "What is it?"

"Natalie, shut the door. Go downstairs and-"

"And let you continue?" She'd glared at the flushed young redhead wearing diamond stud earrings and nothing else. "I've seen you at the clinic. You have that white poodle Snickers. What a ridiculous name! He has a horrible disposition." Natalie couldn't stop babbling as the reality of the situation fought for acceptance in her mind. "No wonder he's always irritable. You drag him in constantly and there's nothing wrong with him. Now I know the reason for your frequent visits."

"Natalie, please don't turn this into some ridiculous farce," Ke

"I think not," Natalie had replied coldly. "I don't think we will ever talk again."

With that she had descended the stairs of the townhouse, crossed the small foyer, and walked outside. As soon as she closed the door behind her and heard the lock click, she remembered her purse. Her purse on the hall table holding her wallet and keys. The keys to Ke

Oh, dear God, she'd thought in despair. Could this get any worse? Humiliated, she had rung the doorbell repeatedly until a blazing-eyed Ke

"My purse." Natalie wanted to cry. Her throat was tight and the words grated. She blinked frantically. "Just give me my purse with my keys so I can leave. I'll be back this evening to pack."

"Nat-"

"My purse!"

He'd turned away from the door as tears spilled from her eyes. He retrieved the purse, handed it to her, and watched her stalk to her car.

She'd gone to a good restaurant not crowded at such an early hour, and cried in the restroom for a good twenty minutes. Then she'd applied a lot of powder around her red nose and swollen eyes and sat in the darkened bar for the next three hours. She felt like getting drunk, but the objective part of her knew oblivion wasn't the answer. Instead she'd slowly sipped two small glasses of Chablis and wished she had a friend to talk to. For the first time she realized she had no really good friends in Columbus. Ke

When she'd returned that evening, Ke

"I can't. I mean I don't have a good explanation. I guess I just panicked. We've been in this semi-marriage situation for months and I got scared. Commitment. The old phobia."

"Did you hear that on a morning talk show?" she'd asked scornfully.

"No. It's the truth, Nat."

"How many times, Ke

"Never."

He was lying. She'd stared at him for a moment and walked upstairs. He followed, watching her desolately as she began taking her clothes out of the closet. "Stay with me, sweetheart," he said softly. "We love each other. We'll get engaged."

She had glared at him. "You've just told me you're afraid of commitment, you spent the afternoon in bed with another woman, and now you're asking me to marry you?"

"Yes. I'm serious."

"I don't want to hear it," she'd snapped, throwing another blouse into the already overstuffed suitcase. "My father was right about you. I should have listened to him."

"You did," Ke

Now, sitting across the breakfast table from her father, Natalie wondered if Ke