Doctoring the Single Dad Read online

  He’d been tinkering with mechanical things and fixing whatever needed fixing since he was a kid. Being inept around electronic gadgetry was inconceivable to him. “Come again?”

  “My coffee machine refused to work this morning,” she enumerated. “And vacuum cleaners have a habit of dying on me after what, for the average person, is a very short interval. Irons short-circuit and wind up burning things. The life span of an iron around me is just under eight months.”

  “You iron?”

  “Just barely.”

  “Must be your magnetic personality,” he teased. And then he laughed, shaking his head. “I guess it’s a lucky thing that you’re not a mechanic or a pilot.”

  Nikki didn’t even want to think about that. She’d be labeled a disaster, looking for somewhere to happen. “I guess so.” Changing the topic slightly, she asked, “What do I owe you?” When he looked at her blankly, she added, “For fixing the laptop?”

  Lucas was surprised that she even thought to ask that. “Nothing. You don’t owe me anything.”

  That didn’t seem fair. She would have had to pay the technician who canceled on her. “But—”

  “Call it a trade-off,” he told her. When he’d reminded her about billing him, she’d said there wouldn’t be a bill coming since her office manager wasn’t able to place a monetary value on something that they were not in the habit of doing. House calls had gone the way of the dinosaur. “Although,” he added, “I clearly got the better end of the deal.”

  She didn’t like being the last recipient, didn’t like feeling in debt even if he never made any reference to it again. She would know. And knowing made her feel uncomfortable.

  “All right, since we’re doing turnaround and fair play and all that, how about I invite you over for dinner?” She looked at the baby. “Both of you.”

  He didn’t have to think about it. “I’d like that.”

  “Good. How does next Saturday sound? I can get someone to take my place on standby.”

  His smile widened appreciatively. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

  Too bad, she thought, that it didn’t sound like the same to her. She’d gotten swept away with the idea of payback before she remembered one very crucial thing. She couldn’t cook well enough to keep a family of undernourished squirrels alive.

  No problem, she tried to reassure herself. She had all of one week to learn how. All she had to do was put her mind to it.

  And hope that was enough.

  Chapter Ten

  “You can’t tell Mother.”

  Silence on the other end of the line met Nikki’s request.

  The phone call to Theresa was admittedly a last resort kind of thing, but right now, since she’d gone out on a limb with this invitation she’d tendered to Lucas, it was her only recourse. She couldn’t go back on the invitation since it was her idea and she couldn’t cook. The odds of her learning how by Saturday were rather small. That left having someone “ghost” cook for her. The logical choice was a woman who made her living that way.

  She had a great deal of affection for Theresa and thought of her as a quieter version of her mother. But still, the woman had more allegiance to her mother than to her. Placing the call the moment her office closed for lunch, Nikki knew she was asking a lot. She was counting on Theresa’s kind heart.

  “Theresa, you have to promise me you won’t tell Mother. I’ll pay you anything you want to make the dinner, just don’t say a word to my mother. Please,” she pleaded.

  She heard Theresa sigh on the other end. “But sweetheart, your mother’s my best friend.”

  “I know, but your best friend will grill me to an inch of my life if you breathe a word of this to her.” Nikki sank down in her chair, too tense to sit back. “You know how she is. Besides,” she interjected, “it’s not what you think.”

  “It’s not?” Theresa made no attempt to hide the blatant curiosity in her voice.

  “No,” Nikki answered firmly. Maybe this was a mistake, turning to Theresa. Maybe she should have just resorted to takeout from a local restaurant. But Theresa’s cooking was fabulous and she did want Lucas to have a good meal. “The parent of one of my patients called me in a panic a couple of weeks ago because his daughter was running a fever. You know, crying, all that incredibly scary, first-time-around stuff. I talked him through it.” Okay, so she was omitting a few details, like driving over in the middle of the night, but Theresa didn’t need to know that part. “He was so grateful that he invited me over for dinner.”

  “And now you want to reciprocate?” Theresa guessed knowingly.

  “Something like that.” Nikki held her breath, waiting to see if there were going to be more probing questions. It went without saying that there would have been if her mother was on the other end instead of Theresa. This whole conversation would have been chock-full of questions.

  “And you’re afraid of poisoning him.”

  Oh, good, Theresa understood, Nikki thought, releasing the breath she was holding. “Exactly.”

  There was a short laugh on the other end. “And what’s he going to do to reciprocate this meal? Take out your tonsils with a Swiss Army knife?”

  “He won’t have to reciprocate. We’ll be even, Theresa,” Nikki insisted. That was part of the point. “So,” she continued, wanting to wrap it up while she still had time to get something to eat, “are you going to do it?”

  “Of course I’ll cook a dinner for you, Nikki. That’s what I do.”

  She realized she wasn’t being clear. Dealing with details that had to do with her mother always seemed to muddle her otherwise crystal-clear thought process. Why was that? “No, I meant, are you going to do it and not tell Mother?”

  She heard Theresa pause again, as if the older woman was weighing her options. “If you don’t want me to tell your mother that I’m catering a small, intimate dinner—”

  “Not so intimate,” Nikki cut in. If Theresa thought of it in romantic terms, all bets were off. Her mother would know in a heartbeat, even if she didn’t admit to anything directly. Her mother could smell dinner for two a mile away. She was uncanny that way.

  Theresa went on talking as if nothing had been said. “For you and your patient’s father, I won’t be the one to tell her.”

  Had the woman she’d known since she was a little girl been in the room with her, Nikki would have thrown her arms around Theresa and hugged her. Hard. Instead, trying to maintain a composed facade, she said as calmly as she could, “Thank you, Theresa. I knew you’d understand.”

  “All right. What do you want to serve and how soon do you want to serve it?”

  “Nothing fancy. I leave it all up to your fabulous discretion. As for how soon, I’ll need it this Saturday.” Mentally, she crossed her fingers. “Will that be a problem?”

  “No problem at all,” Theresa assured her. “Dinner for two I can do standing on my head.”

  “I’d prefer if you were standing on your feet,” Nikki said dryly. “Bless you, Theresa. You’re the best. I’ve got to go now.” And she really did. The light on her landline was on. Someone was calling in between hours. “And please, remember—”

  “—Yes, I know,” Theresa responded patiently. “Don’t tell Maizie.”

  Nikki all but sang out the word, “Right,” just before she ended the call. She was humming.

  Theresa slowly closed her cell phone and then tucked the pearl pink model back into her pocket. She raised her eyes and looked at the woman who’d dropped by for lunch less than ten minutes ago.

  “Just so that you know,” Theresa told one of her two oldest, dearest friends, “I’m not supposed to talk about what your daughter just said to me.”

  “Yes, I know.” Maizie smiled the deep, satisfied smile of a mother whose plans were right on schedule. She’d been in Theresa’s small, cozy office to overhear the entire call. It didn’t take anything to put all the pieces together. “I wouldn’t dream of having you tell me about the dinner you’re making for my dau
ghter to pass off as her own when she has Lucas Wingate over.”

  Theresa, the product of a strict upbringing, was the one whose conscience always made her chafe if she wasn’t on the straight and narrow path. This came under the heading of deception. “You know, Maizie, I do feel rather guilty about this.”

  Maizie slipped a comforting arm around her friend’s thin shoulders. A great deal of affection flowed between the two women.

  “Don’t be silly, Theresa. We’re mothers. Being underhanded for our children’s own good comes with the territory.” Satisfied that she’d made her point, Maizie asked, “Now then, what are you going to make for my daughter’s covert dinner? Remember,” she cautioned, “nothing too elaborate. Nikki might not be able to answer him if he asks her what she’d ‘made’ and we don’t want him knowing what a terrible cook she is until he’s become enamored with some of her other excellent qualities.”

  Theresa merely smiled and shook her head. Maizie would have made a wonderful general if she’d joined the armed services.

  Damn it, this was downright ridiculous.

  Nikki could feel her heart accelerating. It was beating even faster than a couple of minutes ago. Going to answer the door was ratcheting up her heartbeat to a fierce level.

  Theresa had left her house less than twenty minutes ago, placing everything she’d prepared on a warming tray she’d brought with her. Everything looked, and no doubt was, perfect. Theresa had even thought to bring along some newly made finger food for the baby so that, if nothing else, Heather would be occupied squeezing the food to a pulp.

  Theresa had thought of everything. Too bad she couldn’t think at all, Nikki thought. In comparison, molasses in January moved faster than her brain right now.

  When she opened the door, admitting Lucas in, her heart all but stopped. He looked incredibly handsome in his deep blue shirt that matched the hue of his eyes, making them stand out and appear even more blue than they already were.

  He also looked incredibly alone.

  She was having trouble breathing. Very slowly, she drew in a long breath as subtly as she could.

  “Where’s Heather?” Nikki asked, opening the door wider as if that would somehow reveal where he’d hidden his daughter.

  “Home,” he told her, crossing the threshold. He handed her a bottle of wine he’d thought to bring at the last moment. “I thought maybe, since you have to deal with children all day long, you might want a baby-free dinner.”

  No. No, I don’t.

  Suddenly, jumbo jets flew inside her stomach, taking off and barely avoiding disastrous collisions. As long as Heather was present, the little girl provided a much-needed, diverse focal point. She was someone to talk about, someone who needed attention. Heather would have kept this whole dinner on a friendly, yet not quite personal level.

  With the baby out of the equation, Nikki suddenly felt oddly vulnerable. And very nervous.

  Because, she was forced to admit, she was more than just passingly attracted to the man in her doorway.

  Lucas sniffed the air. “What smells so good?” he asked.

  Nikki had to stop and think before answering. “Chicken divan.”

  “I’m impressed you went to so much trouble.”

  The first shaft of guilt found her. She turned away to lead the way into the living room.

  “No trouble at all,” she assured him a bit too breezily as she attempted to brush off the compliment. Doing her best to sound nonchalant, she asked, “You found a sitter?”

  “Yes.” He was very pleased about that accomplishment. “Turns out the person I called to ask for a referral was free and she said she’d be more than happy to babysit.”

  Placing the bottle of wine on the kitchen counter, Nikki took out a corkscrew. “And you trust her?”

  Taking the corkscrew from her as if they’d been doing it this way for years, Lucas began to open the bottle. “Absolutely. She has one of those faces,” he confided. “You know the type I mean. She’s the kind of person you find yourself instinctively trusting and telling all sorts of things to that you wouldn’t have thought you would ever share with anyone, much less someone you haven’t known for years.” He realized that he was looking directly at Nikki. And that, in her own way, she matched that description. “Kind of like you, actually.”

  Nikki stared at him, surprised and uncertain. “Me?”

  Lucas nodded. Pulling out the cork, he set the corkscrew down and poured two glasses. He handed her the first one, then picked up his own. Lifting it, he silently toasted her before taking a sip.

  “I think I’ve shared more with you than I have with anyone at the hospital where Heather was born. The hospital where…” Unable to finish the sentence, to summon Carole’s death even verbally, he let his voice trail off.

  Sensing what was going on, Nikki immediately changed the subject. “And Heather’s comfortable with this sitter?” she asked.

  “I think she likes her more than me,” he laughed. “She took to the woman like a duck to water.” And then, for a moment, he was serious. “I wouldn’t have left her if she’d shown any signs of agitation.”

  Nikki believed him. She led the way back into the dining room. Perched on the warming tray, dinner was on the buffet against the far left wall, awaiting their pleasure.

  “You know you really didn’t have to leave Heather home,” she told him. “I have little finger food for her to eat—or wear as the case may be. In any event, it would have kept her busy. Babies love to squish food between their fingers.”

  Lucas could just see Heather really getting into that—and leaving one hell of a mess behind. “Well, I did think you deserve not to feel as if you were literally bringing your work home with you. And, to be honest, I kind of needed the break myself. Except when I was house hunting, I haven’t been away from her since we moved here.”

  She laughed, raising her glass in a mock toast. “Welcome to every at-home-mother’s world.”

  “Personally,” he told her, “I have a great deal of renewed admiration for moms. I always thought of them as incredible, but now I view them as somewhere in the realm of superhuman.”

  Setting down her glass next to her plate, Nikki brought over the large, covered dish that contained the chicken divan and set it on the table. The dish of rice followed.

  “Being a mother is a juggling act,” she agreed. “But the rewards are great.”

  Lucas surprised Nikki by drawing out her chair for her. “How is it that you don’t have any children of your own?”

  “Too busy taking care of everyone else’s, I guess,” Nikki answered. “Besides,” she continued as he took his seat to her right, “the right man hasn’t come along yet.” The last words came out slowly as she found herself staring at him. The stray thought floated through her head that maybe she was looking at the right man.

  The next moment, the thought vanished.

  “We’d better eat,” she urged, clearing her throat. If only her head was that easy to clear. “Dinner’s liable to get cold.”

  He removed the lid from the larger dish. Steam rose. “Not much chance of that. You had it on a warming tray,” he reminded her.

  “Oh, well,” She was tripping over her own tongue. “Warmed-over food isn’t as good as when it first comes straight out of the oven. Which it did. A few minutes ago.” She forced a smile to her lips as she instinctively shut them. Right now, the less she said, the better, Nikki decided.

  Finished, Lucas leaned back in his chair. Lately, except for the meal he’d tried to make for Nikki, he’d just been eating to survive, grabbing anything he could and not paying too much attention to what he was consuming. But this time, he felt full, happily full. Two and a half servings full. He couldn’t recall the last time that had happened.

  “That had to be one of the best meals—no,” he amended, “the best meal I’ve had in a very, very long time. And that’s even taking my mother’s cooking into consideration.” Carole, bless her, knew which ready-made meals to get
from the supermarket. She’d been a hell of a defroster. “Where did you learn to cook like that?”

  Stymied, Nikki opened her mouth to brush off the compliment and act appropriately modest. But if she did, her words would all revolve around a lie. While she would, on occasion, resort to little white lies in order to spare someone’s feelings or make them feel better, if she lied now it would only be self-serving. And the lie would only get bigger with time. Eventually, she was going to have to come clean—if there was an “eventually” in their future, she silently qualified.

  “Actually,” she confessed, forcing herself to meet his gaze, “I didn’t.”

  “You didn’t what?”

  She was tempted to stare down at the napkin she was folding in her lap, but she forced herself to continue meeting his gaze. “I didn’t learn to cook like that.”

  “I don’t think I understand.”

  He was going to think she was really lame, Nikki thought, upbraiding herself for ever having gone this route to begin with.

  “You’re eating a meal prepared by one of my mother’s best friends. Theresa, my mother’s friend, is a caterer. There’s a very strong suspicion that she’s been cooking since birth. Personally, I can’t boil water. Well, I can,” she amended, “but I usually wind up boiling it away and burning the pot.” She shrugged in a self-deprecating manner. “I’m afraid I’m pretty hopeless in the kitchen when it goes beyond opening the refrigerator.”

  Amused by the expression on her face, and touched that she’d gone to all this trouble for him, Lucas did his best to keep a straight face. “Cooking’s really no big deal.”

  He was just being kind and they both knew it. “It is if you can’t.”

  He appreciated that she’d told him the truth, but he didn’t want her beating herself up about this on his account. He wasn’t here for the food, he admitted to himself, even though it was very good.

  “I’m flattered that you felt you had to make such an effort for me,” he began.