Anthologies 1. Going All the Way 2. Naughty Under the Mistletoe 3. Midnight Angel  Excerpt 4. Grey's Anatomy 101 Excerpt ... Chapter One ylan North walked down the streets of Acton, savoring the familiar sights. Old man Roscoe still sat outside the diner, refusing to give up his spot on the bench for people who were waiting to be seated. In his hometown, the cars ran at a slow pace, the people even slower. As a kid, he couldn't wait to get the hell out and never look back. As an adult, he appreciated everything he'd once hated because this place possessed the peace and tranquility that was nowhere to be found in L.A. As he strode down the street, destination in mind, one more important thought struck him, cementing his reason for coming back now. Everywhere he went reminded him of Holly Evans. Dr. Holly Evans, he thought, shaking his head. Damn, but he was proud of her. She may not know his feelings, but by the time his short trip home was over, she'd know that and a whole lot more. But first he needed to find firm footing. To see where he stood with Holly now. They hadn't spoken in over ten years and Dylan understood that the girl he left behind might want nothing to do with him. He also realized that his own feelings might have changed too. He doubted it, but he needed to keep an open mind. He understood these things deep in his gut, in a way he couldn't have managed in his youth—and not just because his manager, his publicist and his personal assistant all told him he was an ass to turn his back on the beautiful actresses at his beck and call. Specifically Melanie Masterson, his latest and longest lasting relationship. Melanie desperately wanted a reconciliation, but only, he thought, because being on his arm benefitted her career. But he was finished hanging onto Melanie or any other woman in a futile search for the normalcy he'd only experienced once before. With Holly. He wasn't a man prone to believing in omens but a month ago he'd dreamed of Holly, which wasn't unusual since he dreamed of her often. But this time had been more vivid. In the dream, it was Christmas Eve and they sat in his house opening gifts they'd bought for each other with their hard earned money. Feeling warmer and more content than he could ever remember, he'd drowsily reached for Holly only to find Melanie in bed beside him. The shock to his system had been greater than if he'd crawled into a cold bed all alone. It was a wake up call he'd taken seriously. So now he entered the office which had once belonged to Holly's father and glanced around, noting that although much was the same, such as the old doctor's diplomas and the black and white photos, Holly had added her own touches too. Aside from the Christmas tree in one corner, tinsel draping the walls and decals on the windows, there were more permanent fixes. She'd painted the place a cheery yellow color, a corner of the waiting room held a large toy box and a shelf filled with children's books, and an array of magazines lay on the center table. Doc Evans had a great bedside manner but he'd never updated the decor. His daughter had. Dylan wondered if the old man had lived to see it. Today Dylan had learned that the dad Holly adored had passed away last year and her mom had remarried and moved to Florida. Dylan hadn't been here to cushion either loss. Had anyone, he wondered. The thought caused a cramping in his gut. How many other major events had he missed in her life? And was it too late to even approach her now? So many questions. "Can I help you?" a red haired woman he didn't recognize asked, interrupting his thoughts as she grabbed her coat from the hooks in the hall. "I'm looking for Holly—I mean Dr. Evans." Without looking up, the other woman shrugged her coat over her shoulders. "Dr. Evans is in the back but we've seen our last patient for the day unless it's an emergency. Is it an emergency?" As she spoke, she finally glanced into his face for the first time. "You're him! I mean you're Dylan North. The actor. Oh my God!" Used to this reaction, Dylan merely treated her to his stock fan smile and reached out a hand in greeting. "Pleased to meet you." She pumped his hand with enthusiasm until he thought his arm might fall off. He eased his hand out of her grip. "And you are? Your name, I mean?" "Oh, sorry," she said, her cheeks turning as red as her hair. "Nicole. Nicole Barnett. Oh my goodness I can't believe you're standing here." She gushed like every other fan he met and though Dylan understood the reaction, he hoped that the more time he spent here, the more people would get used to him and treat him no differently than anyone else. Funny how after craving the spotlight, he now wanted the ordinary. But Nicole continued to ramble in the face of idol worship. "I'd heard you were in town, and of course Holly's been talking about you but I didn't think I'd meet you in person. Oh my gosh this is so exciting." "Holly's been talking about me?" His heart rate kicked up a notch. That his return was on her radar had to be a good sign. "Your return is all anyone can talk about. Our patients keep reminding her that you two used to be an item, not that she wants to remember ... ." Nicole's voice trailed off as she realized that in her excitement, she'd slipped big time. "I'm sorry. I really do need to get going. Should I tell Holly you're here first?" He shook his head. "I'd rather surprise her." Nicole grinned. "Good idea. And if you don't mind a suggestion, if she gives you a hard time, why don't you just say you're here for a flu shot. Holly can never turn down a patient in need. Unless you've already had one?" She raised an eyebrow in question. "No, haven't had one." Nor did he desire a shot but he supposed the cause was worthwhile. "I'll keep your idea in mind." Nicole smiled. "It was really nice to meet you and good luck," she told him again, and eyes still impressionably wide, she slipped out the door. Dylan exhaled hard. He hung his coat on a hook in the hall, then turned the lock, ensuring his reunion with Holly wouldn't be interrupted. In silence, he headed for the back room. Holly stood with her back to him. Her silky blonde hair had been clipped back into a pony tail that hung to her shoulders, a huge difference from the long cascading hair she favored in high school. He couldn't wait to see it framing her beautiful face. Since she hadn't heard his approach, he took a minute to watch. To cement his certainty that the emotions and feelings in his heart weren't shadows of the past. They were just as intact today as they once had been. She scribbled in a chart and then glanced at the calendar on the wall. For a brief second, he caught a glimpse of the profile he remembered, her features more defined and grown up but still the same. Her makeup had faded from a day of hard work, something the women he knew would rarely let happen, hence the entourage of traveling makeup artists to handle touch ups and constant trips to the restroom to powder their noses. The woman before him was real and he wanted her to be his again. This time forever. Steeling himself, he cleared his throat and knocked twice on the door frame. "I thought I told you it's okay to go home, Nicole." Holly called without glancing up from replacing the paper on the examining table. "I can clean up the last few things and get the office ready for tomorrow. Go get ready for the Christmas party at Whipporwill's tonight." Her voice hadn't changed either. The light sound was still capable of sending rippling waves of desire through him, especially when she laughed. If he accomplished nothing else on this first encounter, he wanted to make her laugh. "It's not Nicole," Dylan said, drawing attention to himself at last. She inhaled sharply and turned around fast. Shock, pleasure and anger all flashed across her features until finally she folded her arms across her chest, schooling her face into a blank mask. Just not soon enough to prevent him from discovering she still had a variety of feelings for him and he hoped to tap into the more pleasant ones. "Dylan," she said, having regained her composure. He inclined his head. "Holly. How've you been?" She narrowed her gaze, obviously assessing him. "Is that really the best opening line you could come up with?" she asked, then chuckled, a sound he knew was forced because it lacked the warmth and genuineness he remembered. It didn't count as the laugh he'd promised himself. He shrugged. "I didn't think you'd appreciate it if I tossed some old line your way." Holly nodded slowly, still unable to believe Dylan had come to see her here. She knew all about his return, how could she not when it was all her patients could talk about, but she didn't think he'd bother to look her up. She tried to breathe steadily, a nearly impossible feat when he was still so good looking, sexy and damn him, charming in person. His raven hair had barely any gray and those blue eyes were just as bright. "You're right. I wouldn't have appreciated a flip line," she said, surprised that he remembered how important honesty was to her, when he'd forgotten all about truthfulness in his rush to leave all those years ago. She and Dylan had a history she'd never been able to forget. They'd met at thirteen when Dylan's family had moved to town, started dating at sixteen, begun sleeping together at seventeen and by eighteen and their high school graduation, Holly had been planning their happily ever after. She'd go to Yale University and then to medical school like her father and his father before him, and though Dylan hadn't chosen his college yet, he'd go close by, major in Theater Arts or Drama and they'd stick together as he tried for a career on Broadway. They'd have a house, kids, and a happy life. That had been their plan or so she'd thought until she woke up the day after graduation with a goodbye letter in her mailbox. A note on a flimsy sheet of paper, hastily written as if she'd meant nothing to him at all. He'd been her first love and he'd unceremoniously dumped her with the printed words, A high school crush was never meant to last. It's time we both move on. Dylan. Not even Love, Dylan. Then he'd gone on to change his name from Dylan Northwood to Dylan North and quickly became America's heartthrob, staring at her from the cover of every magazine in the supermarket and drug store. Now he stood before her. Holly exhaled slowly, trying not to let Dylan see that his return had her trembling. He stared with the half smile and the dimple America adored on his face. "How about a hello hug for an old friend?" he asked more than a hint of challenge in his voice. Touching him would be like looking for an electric shock, but if she turned him down, he'd assume she still had feelings for him. Which she didn't, she assured herself. None at all. Liar. "Yeah I think I could manage a hug. For a friend," she added, more for her benefit than his. She stepped forward and was immediately surrounded by his heady masculine scent and engulfed by his strong arms and a wealth of emotion she'd tried hard to bury. Her cheek nestled into the nubby wool of his sweater and his jean-clad thighs brushed against her light slacks. Shaking, she stepped back before she embarrassed herself, the practiced smile she reserved for her most trying patients on her face. "So what brings you by?" His steady gaze met hers. "I couldn't come home without seeing my Midnight Angel ... I mean without seeing you again." She swallowed hard, his use of the endearment taking her off guard. Dylan's father had walked out when he and his sister were young, only to return again for another try. When that second chance failed a few weeks before Christmas their junior year in high school, his mother had broken the star on their Christmas tree in frustration. Holly had bought the family an angel to put on top instead. New memories to replace the old, she'd explained when she'd given it to him at midnight on Christmas Eve. He'd called her his Midnight Angel. She'd believed they would last forever. She shivered and forced herself back to the present. "Well I'm glad you came by. It was good to see you again." And it would be just as good to have him gone. "As you can see, I was just finishing up here. I've had a long day." She was sure she looked as exhausted as she felt, yet somehow she resisted the urge to fix her hair or excuse herself and run to her office to touch up her makeup. This was who she was. No sense hiding it. Though she considered herself attractive on a good day, today wasn't one of those. The Hollywood hunk might have dated her once, but the gorgeous women he saw daily and at award shows and premiers, made her look like roadkill in comparison. Especially in contrast with Melanie Masterson, the actress the magazines constantly paired him with. He glanced at his watch. "Actually I was hoping you had time for one more patient today?" "You?" She asked, surprised. He didn't look sick. "Flu shot. I never managed to get one before I left L.A." He shoved his hands into his back pockets and grinned at her like an adorable little boy who'd forgotten his lunch money and was begging for a loan. The effect was potent, more than any other good looking man had had on her, ever. Guiltily, thoughts of John, her on-again, off-again boyfriend arose. She and John had started dating when she'd returned home to take over her sick father's practice a little over a year ago. But while John was ready to settle down and had begun pressuring her for more of a commitment, she wasn't ready and lately she'd been wondering if she ever would be. She'd been putting him off with flimsy excuses, but I need more time and let's get to know each other better didn't hold much weight when they'd known one another since grade school. John provided comfort and ease but not this overwhelming sexual desire she felt just looking at Dylan again. "Hello?" Dylan waved a hand in front of her face. "I asked if you'd give me a flu shot?" He studied her with concern. She shook her head to clear her thoughts and focus on keeping Dylan in the past where he belonged. Forcing a smile, she said, "Sure. I can manage one more shot." She gave him a quick exam, not wanting to spend too much time examining his broad, tanned, muscular chest or any other part of his body that created that longing feeling swirling inside her. After a quick escape to gather her equipment, she walked back into the exam room. "So are you going to Whipporwill's tonight?" He asked of the town's annual Christmas party as he pushed up his sweater sleeve in preparation for his shot. She shook her head. "I haven't had any downtime lately. I thought I'd head home and relax." In fact she'd already called John and cancelled, claiming exhaustion. Her bed beckoned. Once she slept, she'd wake up refreshed and full of holiday spirit, ready to shop for the gifts she normally purchased way ahead of time. But since her father died, she'd been so busy keeping his practice alive that she'd had no time for anything that resembled fun. "That's too bad. I was hoping I could steal a dance." She shot him a disbelieving glance. A dance? Was that something like their hug? Did he really find being around her that easy, making conversation that simple, as if they'd never meant anything to one another beyond friends? Was the attraction that swirled inside her even now, nonexistent for him when he looked at her? She clenched her jaw in pain and frustration. "I thought we could hang out and catch up. You know, like old times. Come on, Holly. Please?" She closed her eyes and counted to ten, seeing her relaxing night evaporate. If she didn't show up at the party, Dylan would think she was avoiding him or worse, running from her feelings. "Fine," she said with forced cheer. "I'd love to hang out with an old friend." As long as he didn't call her his Midnight Angel again. And since he found it so easy to be her friend, she decided there was a nice, fleshier place than his arm for her to insert the needle for his shot. One where he wouldn't forget her quite so easily this time. "Oh, Dylan? I need you to do me a favor first." He grinned, obviously pleased she'd agreed. "What's that?" "Drop your pants." He groaned and she laughed, her first, free and easy laugh since he'd walked into her office unannounced. © Carly Phillips