That same Saturday, 5:30 p.m.

The roof of Eight West, St. Paul's Hospital,

Buffalo, New York

Jane Simmons sat at the picnic table, sipping a beer as she chatted with the other ER nurses. A silver medal for the ER team's closer-than-usual second-place finish behind Father Jimmy clinked against the neck of the bottle.

The so-called wind-up party, well into its fifth hour, had lasted six times longer than the race itself, and a hundred or so others still hadn't gone home. Everyone seemed glad to hang out where they could see one another's faces again. But the reason she'd stuck around stood on the other side of the dance floor among a group of residents, too many of them women.

Thomas Biggs leaned against a picnic table, his arms folded across his chest, laughing easily and listening more than talking.

She felt jealous, and hated herself for it. When he eventually came to the makeshift bar, a long cafeteria table laden with drinks in buckets of ice, she walked over to greet him.

"Hi, Thomas. Want to share a beer?"

"Hey, J.S. Sorry, I said I'd go into ER early, starting a few hours from now. Split a juice with you?"

"Cute!"

"Would you like to dance?"

"Sure."

He swung her out onto the platform, where a dozen other couples snaked around to the strains of "Lady in Red." It blared from speakers suspended in a pair of potted trees, all part of the loaned decor that turned the gravel surface on top of the hospital's west wing into what the program described as the "Roof Garden." Mauve velvet ropes strung between chrome posts to demarcate an area well away from the edge looked as if they'd been borrowed from a movie theater lobby. Behind them stood a veritable jungle of more borrowed large plants. These concealed the ten-foot chain-link fence that, according to hospital lore, had been erected around the perimeter six years earlier after the then chief of psychiatry jumped to his death. Without the greenery as camouflage, the place resembled a prison yard.

She settled comfortably into his arms, once more appreciating his ability as a dancer. She also liked the gentle way he held her, and the feel of his firm chest.

Jane knew he was covering ER tonight. She'd checked the schedule, as she often did, to see if they'd be on together. But her slot started at eleven, the regular nursing shift.

Christ! For a grown woman, sometimes she could act so lame about him, she thought, embarrassed at having looked up when he worked. Then she wondered if he ever did the same for her. She'd like that.

An early evening breeze ruffled her hair, and she relaxed her head dreamily against his shoulder. He shifted his arms ever so slightly, enfolding her. She enjoyed the sensation.

She'd barely noticed him his first rotation through ER at St. Paul's. That had been her own rookie year. Scared to death of making a mistake on duty, then preoccupied with studying possible case scenarios on her days off in order to boost her confidence at work, she'd little time for men and didn't enjoy going out much. But after six months she had gained enough competence to look beyond her job and enjoy life a little- enough to keep an open mind as far as hooking up with someone when the Christmas party rolled around. Big mistake. People decompressed so much that most behaved as if they were at Mardi Gras. Wives left their wedding rings at home, husbands forgot where they lived, and singles swung.

Except for Dr. Thomas Biggs. He not only knew a fox trot from a waltz but also didn't use their time on the dance floor as an opportunity to grope her. Better yet, between numbers he actually seemed to enjoy talking about something besides work.

From then on she'd started checking his schedule against her own. They never ran out of anything to say. Movies, music, medicine- the topic didn't matter. And she particularly liked his easy, soft-spoken manner and barely detectable Tennessee drawl. To her mind, he sounded like someone out of Gone with the Wind- a man who knew how to treat a lady. Of course, she never monopolized him, again to avoid tongues wagging. Even at subsequent ER parties she'd danced with him no more than anyone else. But it had bothered her that he hadn't tried to take it further.

Initially she'd presumed he didn't want to date anyone with whom he worked, even though many residents had no such qualms and behaved like free-range rutters whenever they had the chance. Then his rotations took him to other departments- some even out of the city, to rural rotations in the Finger Lakes district, a winemaking area east of Buffalo- and she hardly saw him at all. Occasionally they ran into each other in the cafeteria and would have a coffee together. But he would never initiate anything more, not so much as a dinner invitation. She'd even begun to think he might be gay, then decided probably not. She could usually tell that about a man. It had to do with the carnality of her attraction to him, and Thomas's pull on her definitely rated a ten.

Still, frustrated at his lack of boldness and wondering about the reason, she'd finally asked him outright. "Do you prefer men, or is it me as a woman you got problems with?"

His swarthy complexion had flushed behind the closely cropped beard. "Want to go to my apartment and find out?" His tone carried more dare than invitation.

"Yeah," she'd said, double-daring him right back.

And they'd become lovers.

"Why'd you wait so long?" she'd asked him afterward.

"Because I didn't want us to be the latest gossip morsel for the hospital to chew over. I hate that."

"Me too."

"So what do we do?" He'd seemed genuinely lost for ideas.

"Continue to act like friends in public," she'd told him, surprised at how easily he'd let her take charge. "Can you keep a secret? I mean really keep it. Not a peep about us to anyone?"

He'd shrugged. "Watch me."

So they'd sealed the bond.

That had been eight months ago, just before last Christmas.

They'd been lovers ever since, except when he'd had to go off to the Finger Lakes district again, at the beginning of the year.

The music ended, and she opened her eyes. The summer dusk promised a long, languid sunset. "I want to be more than just your chum tonight," she whispered.

"You mean in the hospital? We might blow our cover."

"There's tomorrow morning. After sign-out, come on over, and I'll make you breakfast."

His dark good looks lit up with that infectious grin of his that she loved to see.

"You mean ol" hillbilly me finally is considered housebroken enough to be allowed into that new apartment of yours?" he teased. "What happened? Someone cover it all in plastic?"

She'd just moved into a new place. For reasons of her own, she'd hesitated at inviting him over. "Something like that. How about it?"

"Love to," he said, and walked away, rejoining the residents he'd been talking with earlier.

Feeling miserable, she wandered over to the end of the table, away from her nursing friends. Did he want her as much as she did him? At times she suspected his aversion to gossip simply gave him the excuse he needed to keep her at a distance- handy when he needed her, but out of sight when it suited him.

"You look as if you've lost your best friend," said a voice behind her.

She turned to see Father Jimmy, beer in hand. He gave her a lopsided grin that lifted her spirits despite her foul mood. "Hi, Father. No, it isn't anything like that."

He glanced across the room and nodded toward Thomas. "You're sure?"

She felt her face grow warm. He couldn't possibly know about Thomas and her. They'd been so careful. "What are you talking about?"

"You seem unhappy. Tis a shame, a woman of your talent and beauty."