A Match for the Doctor Read online

  But the girls did like her, as apparently did Edna. The bottom line was that he did need to have the house furnished and he had no time to get involved in doing the job himself. Like most males over the age of five, he hated shopping. This was an additional, overwhelming chore he didn’t want to burden Edna with. She had enough to handle, taking care of the girls. And besides, the woman was getting on in years.

  “Miss Cassidy is going to decorate our house,” he told them simply.

  “You mean like for Christmas?” Meghan asked breathlessly.

  “No, Christmas is in December. This is May,” Madelyn informed her sister haughtily with a sniff. “Don’t you know anything?”

  Undaunted, Meghan shot back, “I know lots of stuff. Don’t I, Daddy?” she asked, looking to her father for backup.

  “Yes, you do. You both do,” he added quickly. The one thing Nancy had managed to impress upon him was the need to treat the girls equally and to maintain neutrality whenever possible. “Miss Cassidy is going to be buying new furniture for the house.”

  “Can we help her buy the furniture?” Meghan asked eagerly.

  “Well, I can’t see why not. Sure, by all means, help her,” he agreed.

  This way, the woman would be way too busy dealing with the girls to try to rope him into coming along on any of her shopping trips. He viewed it as a win-win situation.

  The moment she walked in the door, Nathan put down the bolts of cloth he was working with and sent a scrutinizing look her way, curiosity rising up in his large, brown eyes.

  “So? How did it go?” he prodded.

  Kennon felt not unlike someone who had just endured a marathon and was close to being out of breath, except that she hadn’t run a marathon and she had absolutely no reason to feel that way.

  Dropping her purse onto her desk, she sank down in her oversize, incredibly soft leather chair. “Strangely, very strangely.”

  “You’re going to have to be a little clearer than that,” Nathan told her. He pulled up a chair and planted himself beside her, a vacant vessel eagerly seeking to be filled.

  Kennon began with the basic information. “The doctor has—”

  “Wait, he’s a doctor?” Nathan repeated the vocation as if it was one step removed from king.

  “Yes, he’s a doctor,” she pressed on. “And he’s got a brand-new two-story house that’s completely empty, except for a couple of pieces of furniture here and there.”

  Nathan’s appetite was completely engaged and in high gear. Though he only leaned forward, she could visualize him rubbing his hands together. “Great, depending on his tastes and what he wants, that should keep you busy for the next couple of months.”

  She frowned and shook her head. “That’s just it, I don’t know his tastes or what he wants.”

  Nathan didn’t see the problem. “Ask,” he all but commanded.

  She looked at him incredulously. Did he think she was some shrinking violet, afraid to open her mouth? “I did.”

  “And?”

  “And he said I should use my judgment.”

  Nathan looked two steps removed from dancing around her desk with glee.

  “Even better,” he enthused. “He gave you carte blanche,” he said, savoring the term. “Carte blanche, Kennon,” he repeated, unable to understand why she wasn’t overjoyed the way he was. “That means that he won’t be getting in the way or underfoot and you can create the house of your—his dreams.”

  That was just the problem. How would she be successful at that if she hadn’t a clue of what the man’s “dreams” were?

  She knew that business had been slow and Nathan was visualizing profits, but that wasn’t all there was to consider here.

  “I have a feeling that Dr. Simon Sheffield is a very opinionated man and if I don’t guess right about what he likes and doesn’t like, this venture isn’t going to turn out well at all.”

  Nathan looked at her knowingly, as if he expected her to make a rabbit materialize without the benefit of even a hat.

  “Have a little faith, Kennon,” he coaxed, his eyes locking with hers. “I do. Work a little of your magic. Talk to him a little, get the man to come out of his shell.” He beamed at his mentor. He’d had his pick of people to apprentice with and observe. He’d picked her for a reason, not by chance. “I never knew anyone who could pick up on people’s vibes the way you can. That’s why you’re so good.”

  A little stunned, Kennon wondered if she should be checking the parking structure for signs of a pod. “Why, Nathan, is that a compliment?”

  One of his thin shoulders rose and fell in an absent shrug. “It could be construed that way,” he allowed vaguely, then warned, “But if you tell anyone, I’ll deny it.”

  Kennon smiled at him. Just when she thought she could read him like a book, down to his last disgruntled comment, Nathan surprised her. It kept things fresh, she mused.

  “As long as I know, that’s all that matters.” His words replayed in her head and she paused abruptly, thinking.

  Because she’d stopped talking, Nathan looked at her, his eyes narrowing as if he was trying to hone in on her thoughts.

  “I can hear the wheels turning in your head,” he told her. “What’s going on in there?”

  “Maybe a little strategy,” she replied, considering her next move.

  Nathan grinned from ear to ear. “That’s my girl,” he declared with feeling. The next moment, Kennon rose to her feet again and tucked her bag strap over her shoulder. “Where are you going?”

  “Back to the battlefield,” Kennon replied, tossing the words over her shoulder. “I intend to get to know the subject whether he likes it or not.”

  She had more in mind than just that, but this wasn’t the time to fill Nathan in on her game plan. First she would see just how entrenched she needed to get into Dr. Sheffield’s life. And that was the Kennon Cassidy he knew and loved, Nathan thought. “You go get ’im, boss,” he called after her.

  Kennon didn’t bother turning around. She had work to do.

  I fully intend to, Nathan. I fully intend to.

  Simon glared and willed the doorbell to be silent.

  But it rang again.

  Because the girls were within earshot, he swallowed the oath that rose to his lips. He didn’t feel like putting up with anyone. Moreover, he wasn’t expecting anyone. There wasn’t anyone to expect, especially since they were new to the area and, other than the chief of surgery and the principal of the girls’ school, neither of whom had any reason to be ringing his doorbell, he didn’t actually know anyone yet.

  Just then, Meghan ran by him like a shot, her focus, the front door.

  “Hold it, Meghan!” he called out, exasperated as he came to life and ran after her. “I told you never to let anyone in.”

  Looking crestfallen, his younger daughter halted mid-dash, her mission suddenly aborted. “Sorry, Daddy. I was just trying to help.”

  He was on the verge of lecturing her that there was a right way and a wrong way to “help,” but she seemed so sad and so earnest at the same time, he found he hadn’t the heart to reprimand her. Instead, he decided to make no comment, feeling it might be better that way.

  These days, he operated with a shorter fuse, much shorter than usual, and he didn’t want to risk saying anything in anger that would upset either one of his daughters. Their feelings were particularly fragile and he wasn’t given to apologies. He would have no idea how to reinstate himself into their favor should he ever do anything to bruise their feelings and cause them to look upon him with either fear or a childish sort of disdain.

  By the time the doorbell rang for a third time, he’d reached it. Yanking the door open he all but shouted, “Yes?” only to find Kennon Cassidy standing on his doorstep. Again.

  A definite sensation of déjà vu washed over him. As did an unexpected, warm feeling he immediately banked down. He did his best to collect his temper and lower his tone. “Did you forget something?”

  Now here wa
s a man whose very voice could scare off burglars, she thought. Lucky for her she wasn’t faint of heart. “Yes, that you had no actual pots and pans beyond the one I used for soup.”

  And what did that have to do with anything? he wondered. He glanced at the large box she held. By the way she boosted it, he figured it had to be heavy. “And what? You bought a set for us?”

  “No, I’m lending you a set.”

  As she confirmed his suspicions, Simon took the box from her. He was right, these were heavy. The woman was stronger than she looked.

  “These are mine,” she told him, following him into the house. “You can use them until we start outfitting your kitchen.”

  Hearing her voice, Madelyn came hurrying into the foyer to join her sister. Both girls wiggled in ahead of him, Simon noted, in their efforts to get closer to this woman who was obviously some sort of modern-day female Pied Piper.

  Either that or she’d cast some kind of hypnotic spell over his daughters. He’d never seen them take to anyone so quickly. Or so eagerly.

  “You came back!” Meghan cried happily, her eyes shining.

  Kennon grinned at her and tousled the girl’s dark hair affectionately. “Yes, I did.”

  “Are you going to come in?” Madelyn asked in a sophisticated tone, though it didn’t hide her feelings about Kennon’s return.

  Kennon looked up at the girls’ father. He appeared almost stoic, standing there with the box of pots in his hands.

  “I don’t know. Am I, Dr. Sheffield?” she asked the man.

  He feigned surprise. “You’re actually asking my permission?”

  Her expression said that was a given—he had no idea if she was sincere or merely putting him on. He had a feeling that his decorator got her way a lot.

  “It is your house, Dr. Sheffield. You can invite anyone you want, or bar them from your property just as easily.”

  He supposed, all things considered, it could be that easy—if he weren’t dealing with wistful, turned-up little faces.

  “Lucky me.” And then he stepped back, giving her some room. “Come on in. The girls have already invited you. Who am I to stand in your way?”

  As if it were that easy, Kennon thought. If the good doctor didn’t want her here, she’d be gone in a heartbeat and they both knew it.

  Even as he invited her in, he saw her turn toward her vehicle. Now what?

  “Just let me get the rest of the pots and pans out of the car,” she told him.

  There were more? Who did she expect Edna to be cooking for? A reserve branch of the marines?

  “Can we help?” Meghan asked eagerly.

  Kennon paused. “That’s up to your dad, but I would love some help if he says it’s all right.”

  How had she done that? Simon wondered. How had she lobbed the ball back onto his court and stolen his team at the same time? He wondered if that was part of her business training or if executing sleights of hand like that just came naturally to her. In either case, this was not the simple, fluffy-looking woman she appeared to be at first encounter.

  “Fine.”

  Balancing the box she’d given him and shifting it to one side against his hip, he silently gestured for his daughters to go ahead and help the woman retrieve whatever else she’d decided to bring along to “lend” him.

  For once, neither Madelyn nor Meghan needed to be told twice.

  Chapter Six

  The next half hour was a whirl of activity. Aided and abetted by her two pint-size assistants, Kennon took over the kitchen and within exactly twenty-eight minutes produced a small pork loin that tantalized with an aroma that whispered of Italian herbs and various grated cheeses. There was a side dish of brown rice, initially cooked in chicken broth, that had been mixed with shredded asparagus, shredded carrots and shredded zucchini, to mention only the three main vegetables that had been added to it.

  His daughters, avowed vegetable haters both, couldn’t dig in fast enough.

  Simon began to think he’d opened up his house to a sorceress. She had definitely charmed his daughters and his housekeeper within an inch of their lives. Edna was still in the living room, eating the same dinner that was being served in the kitchen. Kennon had seen to that, bringing out a full plate for the woman before finally sitting down at the table herself.

  There was conversation at the table, something that had been seriously lacking in the last year. Both girls were eager to snare the sorceress’s attention. For her part, the woman was equal handed, giving both the same amount of attention.

  No doubt about it, she was good. And, he supposed, he could learn from her. Meghan, and especially Madelyn, looked happier than he remembered them being in a long time.

  “You know, if this decorating thing doesn’t work out for you…” Simon began after he realized that he had cleaned his plate not once, but twice. Only the fear of settling in for an evening nap rather than doing the work he’d brought home had kept him from taking a third helping. “…you could always get a job as a chef,” he continued.

  Or as an all-round whirling dervish, he added silently.

  Humor highlighted her face, fluidly moving from her lips to her eyes. She looked very pleased with herself. He supposed she had every right to be.

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Her eyes captured his.

  He had no idea what she was thinking, nor why he felt so intrigued by her.

  “Could I count on a letter of recommendation from you?” She asked so straight-faced he actually thought she was serious for a moment. Until the slight telltale curve of the corners of her mouth returned and subsequently gave her away.

  Simon shrugged. “Why not?” he replied.

  “High praise, indeed,” she quipped dryly. “Don’t worry, the only recommendation I’m interested in has to do with decorating.” She had no intention of doing anything else, ever. “I’ve been in the decorating business for a number of years and I’ve ridden out a lot of highs and lows. This dip in the economy is all part of that.”

  Although she had to admit it would be nice to get back to the point where she was juggling assignments, looking for a way to squeeze yet another one in, rather than waiting for the phone to ring so that she had something to do. Until this assignment—if indeed it actually was one—had come along, she’d quietly begun paying Nathan out of her personal account because the business account was close to flatlining.

  “And speaking of references,” she threw in, switching gears back to his initial comment, “my references are available for viewing anytime you’d like to look them over.” She had a website, plus an actual physical file where she kept her letters of reference, all of which were glowing.

  But Simon waved away her offer, uninterested. “No need,” he told her.

  She looked at him in surprise. He struck her as a belt-and-suspenders kind of man, taking precautions, making sure everything was on the up-and-up—and then devising a backup plan just in case. Did this mean he’d changed his mind about hiring her for the job?

  “You don’t want to see my references?” she asked, wondering why he’d suddenly switched courses. Had she said something to offend him?

  “Recommendations from people I don’t know don’t impress me,” he told her. “An enthusiastic one from someone I know or have dealt with—like Ms. Sommers—does. She seemed to be very high on your ability to, in her words, turn a ‘sow’s ear into a silk purse.’”

  Since Maizie was her aunt, the endorsement could be misconstrued as nepotism. But while Maizie would never bad-mouth anyone, she would never praise anyone if she felt their work was lacking in any way. She was far too honest to lie.

  “Nothing quite that drastic,” Kennon assured him. “But I have been able to turn some pretty awful rooms into lovely extensions of the client’s home, bringing up the total value of the house.” Warming to her subject, she rose from the table, ready to make a quick run to her vehicle. “I’ve got an album of my work in the car that I can show you.”

  His words stopp
ed her in her tracks.

  Wiping his mouth, Simon retired his fork. “You can save yourself the trouble, Miss Cassidy. I don’t have time to handle the job myself and I certainly don’t have time to conduct any more lengthy interviews.”

  Any more? Kennon bit her tongue to keep from echoing the last part of his statement incredulously. Did this qualify as a lengthy interview in his mind? On what planet? He hadn’t asked her for any kind of information, any backup statements, nothing. This didn’t qualify as an interview. It didn’t even make the grade for a run-of-the-mill conversation.

  Don’t antagonize the gift horse, Kennon, she cautioned herself.

  Putting on her brightest smile, she asked, “So then I’m hired?”

  Simon raised his deep blue eyes to hers, silently asking what part of his statement she didn’t understand. Of course she was hired—unless she had a comprehension problem.

  “That’s what I just said.”

  Not really. Her smile never shifted.

  The man needed to work on his communication skills. She wondered if he was just as obscure and distant with his patients when he spoke to them. Heart patients, she would think, would want to have their hands held, would want to be comforted and put at their ease. They would want to know that their surgeon cared. There was absolutely nothing about this exceedingly handsome, exceedingly sexy, reserved man that came close to even hinting that he cared about the people he operated on. Was it a protective device? A mechanism he employed so that he couldn’t get close to anyone, just in case they didn’t make it?

  Focus on what’s important. You’ve got bills to pay, Kennon. “Thank you,” she told him. “I can start tomorrow. Tonight if you like.”

  He shook his head. Her eagerness made him feel tired. It was almost as if her energy was growing only because it was sapping his.

  “What I’d like,” he informed her, “is to go to my study and get back to the paper I was working on yesterday. The paper with the quickly approaching deadline.”

  She backed away quickly. It did no good to get a client stirred up about anything except color schemes. “Of course. So when can I speak with you?” she asked so she could plan accordingly.