A Match for the Doctor

by Marie Ferrarella

  “Right,” Kennon agreed, taking a large pot from the cabinet. Her own pots were back home again. This set of cast-iron, green pans were all brand-new, waiting to be broken in, one by one.

  Meghan pouted for a moment, then tossed her head, her curls bouncing along her back as she declared, “I knew that.”

  Kennon smiled warmly at her smaller assistant. “Of course you did. All right, troops, let’s get this show on the road.”

  “I know, another ‘figger of speech,’” Meghan announced knowingly with a smirk directed at her sister. She was more than eager to be pressed into service.

  After a beat, Edna rose from the chair and crossed over to where her employer was sitting, still rifling through the paper.

  “Warms your heart, doesn’t it, sir?” she asked him in a lower voice.

  Simon looked up from a rather sobering article on the current fate of lending institutions. Given her comment, he doubted the woman had been looking over his shoulder.

  But just in case he’d misunderstood her, he asked, “What does?”

  “The way Meghan and Madelyn have taken to her. Those girls light up like fireflies whenever they’re around Miss Kennon. When she first came, I half expected them to be sullen and reject her, but they didn’t. The poor lambs are hungry for a woman’s touch.”

  They’re not the only ones.

  Where the hell had that come from, he wondered, startled by the stray thought that had just shot through his mind, triggered by Edna’s comment.

  Clearing his throat as he pulled himself together, Simon stated the obvious. “They have you.”

  “They’ve always had me, sir,” Edna pointed out. “I’ve been part of their background ever since they were born. Just like you, sir,” she said, looking at him significantly.

  Was that a criticism of his failure to successfully connect with his daughters? When his wife first died, he’d withdrawn into himself, into a self-imposed exile of the soul until such time as he could breathe normally again, because, initially, he just couldn’t. Couldn’t breathe, couldn’t cope, couldn’t see himself living in a world without Nancy. But as one day fed into another and then another, and he was still standing, still drawing breath, he picked himself up and picked up the mantle of his responsibilities, as well. It wasn’t easy, but he forced himself to return, to walk and talk, and dwell among the living. To dwell with his daughters, who needed him.

  But connecting with them, well, that was something else again. That took time, patience and a know-how that he didn’t naturally possess.

  Reflecting on it now, Simon realized that he hadn’t made as much headway in thirteen months as he had in these last four weeks. The difference being, he supposed he had to admit, that Kennon and her child-friendly manner had entered his life. He was more than willing to concede that the woman was special.

  She would have had to be, he mused, since she had managed to somehow make shopping less than odious for him. Not an easy feat, he would be the first to admit.

  He looked at Edna now, as the sound of his daughters’ laughter drifted in from the kitchen. “I’m doing the best I can.”

  “I know that, sir, of course you are,” Edna said soothingly. “But isn’t it funny how Miss Cassidy makes that best better?” It was a statement rather than a question. “She’s got a way about her, that one does.” Edna smiled broadly. “I’m glad you found her.”

  “I didn’t,” he contradicted. “She found us. Or rather, she was sent to us.”

  Edna nodded solemnly, pleased that the doctor understood. “You feel that way, too, Doctor?”

  He knew that Edna was thinking that the incredibly bubbly interior decorator’s path crossed theirs by some sort of divine design, but the actual explanation was a great deal simpler.

  “She was ‘sent’ by the woman who sold me the house, Edna,” he clarified. Since Edna had been very ill at the time, he didn’t really expect her to remember exactly how Kennon had initially burst into their lives and where she’d come from.

  From the head of Zeus, he couldn’t help thinking, being reminded of a story he’d read in a high school English class eons ago, back when life was far less complicated and happiness was not an elusive entity that came with a dark underbelly.

  “You mean Maizie Sommers?” Edna asked. He was surprised that she remembered the Realtor’s name. When he nodded, Edna said, “I must remember to send the woman a thank-you note for that referral. I doubt if anyone else than Miss Cassidy could have served up this miracle.”

  “And what miracle would that be?” he asked, completely clueless.

  “Why, getting you to take the girls on a shopping trip these last few Saturdays,” she said, surprised that the doctor didn’t immediately realize what she was talking about.

  “I didn’t take the girls, the girls took me,” Simon corrected.

  And that had been because the woman who was now chopping celery and carrots with abandonment and relish had taken his daughters along with her. He wasn’t familiar with the process, but he had a feeling that most decorators operated autonomously, at times sending their clients to stores on their own, or perhaps bringing things to them for their stamp of approval. A rubber stamp of approval.

  He sincerely doubted that the decorating process that most people went through was as—for lack of a better word—intimate as the one he and the girls were experiencing.

  “Even better,” Edna was saying in response to his description.

  He supposed it was better in a way. On his own he would have continued the way he’d been, making minor attempts to interact with his daughters, but for the most part, abdicating that position to Edna, who after all was far better at it than he was. Edna wouldn’t have tried to get him to interact more with Madelyn and Meghan. She might have wanted to, but Edna was not the pushy type. Definitely not the way this woman with the sexy smile was.

  As all these thoughts went through his mind and struck him with a numbing clarity for the first time, he felt like a man who had just experienced an epiphany.

  Maybe the word miracle wasn’t too strong after all.

  Simon Sheffield had been looking at her all through dinner. Staring at her, really, Kennon silently amended, and she felt a little uneasy about it. Not to mention incredibly warm.

  Why was he staring?

  What was he thinking?

  Since he wasn’t a man who could be easily read, she couldn’t help wondering if perhaps the doctor was trying to tell her that her services were no longer required.

  No, that wasn’t it. If he wanted to terminate her, he’d come right out and say it instead of playing cat-and-mouse games with her.

  But he wouldn’t just let her go while his daughters were at the table. Anyone with even an abbreviated attention span could tell that they had all but adopted her as one of their own. If Dr. Sheffield told her she didn’t need to come back anymore while the girls were within earshot, they’d put up a heart-wrenching fuss, God love ’em. And although he wasn’t exactly a candidate for father of the year, Simon Sheffield did love his daughters. She’d picked up on that almost from the very beginning. He just didn’t know how to express it properly.

  So was he just biding his time, waiting for the girls to go off and play?

  Or was something else on his mind? Some other reason why he was looking at her like that, as if he was trying to find the hidden entrance to a building.

  Had she committed some minor offense that had somehow snowballed in his mind? Or—?

  Or what?

  What was wrong with her? Why was all this tension, this anxiety wound up around this one man? It wasn’t as if her livelihood depended on this one assignment. She wasn’t exactly going to be penniless and on the street when this job was over. And it would be over, if not now, then in a few weeks. Everything ended sooner or later.

  But that was the nature of the beast. She came, she saw, she decorated. And then she left. She always left. It was the one constant, the one thing that never changed, even wh
en all the other variables did.

  So why did she feel this resistance to having things end? Now or later, it shouldn’t matter.

  And yet, it did.

  All the reasoning in the world didn’t help her wrestle this anxious feeling that insisted on weaving itself through her, anchoring her to the ground. It just kept threatening to overwhelm her.

  She didn’t want this time with Simon and his daughters to end, she realized. She didn’t want it to be over. But she couldn’t stretch it out indefinitely. The whole point of it was to get it finished quickly. That’s what Simon wanted. To have his house decorated and to be as little involved in the process as humanly possible.

  Too late for that wish to be granted.

  The problem was that in getting him involved she’d managed, quite unintentionally, to get herself involved, as well.

  The moment dinner was over, Kennon was on her feet, ready to clear the dishes so that she could also clear the air and finally ask Simon why he kept looking at her like that. It had kept her from eating—and from tasting any of the little bit that she had put in her mouth.

  But even as she began gathering up the plates, Edna reached over and took them from her, saying, “You cooked, we’ll clean.” She looked down at the pint-size cheering squad that flanked her. “Won’t we, girls?”

  This time, there was a display of reluctance on the part of the junior league helpers.

  Meghan put it into words first. “Can’t we stay with Kennon?”

  “Miss Cassidy,” Edna said, deliberately being formal in hopes that the girls would follow suit, “has earned the right to sit this out, girls. You, however, are both still filled with energy. Energy I can put to very good use,” Edna told them.

  Meghan’s lower lip stuck out a full inch beyond her upper one as she pouted to show her disappointment and frustration.

  “Tell you what, you listen to Edna,” Kennon coaxed, wanting to avoid any flare-ups, “and next Saturday, we’ll take a little break from shopping.”

  Madelyn was quick to put two and two together. She didn’t appear to much like four. “Take a break?” she asked, her tone distressed. “Does that mean you won’t come over?”

  “No.” Kennon was quick to put the older girl’s mind at ease. “That means that I’m going to take you two to an amusement park right here in Orange County—” She glanced over toward Simon. “As long as your dad says it’s all right,” she added.

  “Can we, Dad?” Meghan immediately began begging. “Can we go?”

  “Please, Dad? We haven’t been to one yet and Mom always promised that if we were ever down here, we could go.”

  Rather than answer his daughters’ pleas, he glanced at Kennon, a hint of surprise in his eyes. “You don’t want me to go with you?” This was certainly a change, Simon thought. Instead of feeling like he had just gotten off the hook, he felt oddly disappointed.

  Kennon had to admit that the question completely stunned her. If she’d been a betting woman, she would have wagered that Simon would be relieved that she wasn’t pushing for him to come along. Not the reverse.

  “Well, yes, of course.” Brightening, she was honest with him. “But I thought that might be too much to hope for.” Obviously not. She took a deep breath. “So, do you want to come with us?”

  Playing hard-to-get at this point would be ridiculous. That ship had come and gone. “Sure, why not?”

  “Why not, indeed,” Edna chimed in from the kitchen doorway, looking incredibly pleased with this twist of events.

  “Oh, yes, you, too, Edna,” Kennon called out, belatedly realizing that she had neglected to include the woman, as well. Even nannies needed to kick back and relax once in a while. “You’re invited, too. My treat,” she added. Turning back to Simon, she clasped her hands together. “Okay, so it’s settled—” About to fling herself into the next part of this dialogue, she was thrown off base when Simon interrupted.

  “No, it’s not,” he contradicted.

  “Oh?” Well, that peace treaty was short-lived, she thought.

  “It’s not settled because it’s going to be my treat,” he informed her. “I can afford it a lot more than you can—unless you’re really drastically overcharging me,” he slipped in. “And making a bundle that way.”

  He didn’t expect her to answer, or to challenge what he said. But even when she agreed with him, it sounded as if she was disagreeing.

  “No, I’m not overcharging you,” she replied. “Or making a bundle. I’m going out of my way to find you the best deals, the best prices—”

  “I know, I know. Uncle,” he cried. “I conceded the point, no need to keep heaping words on my head.”

  She had more words for him. She wanted him to tell her why he’d been looking at her that way all through dinner.

  As if sensing that this was not over, Edna came in to gather up her stray workers. “All right, girls, dishes, remember?” Edna reminded them.

  Scrambling off their chairs, the girls were quick to do as they were told—without any further objections. That was a thing of the past as excitement seemed to shine in their eyes.

  They were definitely thinking about next Saturday.

  “You made them very happy,” she said to their father once they were finally alone.

  “Wasn’t my idea, it was yours.”

  “It was my idea for me to take them to an amusement park,” she clarified so that he wouldn’t wind up missing the point. “They’re excited because you’re coming with us. With them,” she corrected herself. “That’s the important part.”

  He looked at her for a long moment, choosing his words slowly, debating not saying them at all, because in not speaking he would remain safe. But once he spoke, Simon knew he wasn’t going to be safe anymore. Reason would dictate him saying nothing. But reason wasn’t the leader right now.

  His voice disrupted the temporary silence that had seeped in. “Actually, I think the important part in all this is you.”

  The man was setting a record tonight in how many times he could stun her. “Me?” she asked incredulously.

  Simon couldn’t help himself. He had to laugh. “You do innocent well—for a devious person.”

  She squared her shoulders in a defensive manner she wasn’t aware of. But he took note of the action.

  “I’m not devious,” she protested.

  Simon didn’t back off. He wasn’t out for an argument. If anything, he was out for the exact opposite. “Yes, you are. But fortunately, you use your powers for good.” And then he saw Kennon grinning—not smiling, but grinning—at him. Why? “What?” he asked.

  “I just can’t picture you saying what you just said,” she told him.

  He had to agree with her. He couldn’t picture himself cracking a joke. She’d done that, had made him unearth a lighter side of himself. “And yet I did,” he said.

  “Yes, you did.”

  For a moment, she just studied him. Something stirred within her. Pride? No, it felt as if it was more than that. But she’d settle for the word until a better one came along.

  “You’ve come a long way from that brusque cardiovascular surgeon I met at the front door a month ago,” she told him.

  The fact that he didn’t immediately protest her assumption told him that she was right. He had come a long way—without realizing that he was making the transition.

  “I guess I have,” he conceded. His eyes met hers and held for more than a beat. “And it’s all your doing.”

  She frowned thoughtfully. “I can’t quite tell if you’re thanking me or blaming me.”

  “Then maybe I should try to make myself a little clearer,” he suggested.

  It was hard to tell who was more surprised by what happened next, him or the woman who had covertly led him down this path he’d had absolutely no intention of taking.

  Until he did.

  One moment he was sitting at the dining room table, trying to sort everything out for once by verbalizing his thoughts, the next he was leaning
over that same table, framing her face with his surgeon’s hands. Hands that were capable of doing the most delicate of surgeries, but now felt almost large and clumsy to him as he took the next unforeseen step.

  Simon found himself kissing her.

  Chapter Ten

  If Simon felt any regret over what he was doing, for the moment it was hidden behind large, heavy drapes that had been drawn back in order to admit the sun, the warmth that existed outside the dwelling he’d exiled himself to so many months ago.

  Right now, he was caught up in the moment. Caught up in the very fact that he could feel.

  He’d thought that ability had been lost to him.

  His mind reeled.

  How could something so soft, so delicate have such a powerful kick?

  Simon had no answer. All he knew was that Kennon’s kiss, begun in surprise with a touch like a butterfly landing on a rose petal, grew in strength and magnitude until it was all encompassing. It was as if nothing existed outside its realm.

  Simon rose from his chair, his hands on her upper arms as he drew her up to her feet with him. He wanted to be closer to her, without a damn table between them like some kind of impeding obstacle.

  And all the while, his lips remained on hers. And her soft mouth remained on his.

  He couldn’t begin to describe what was going on inside of him. It felt as if a shaft of light had shattered the oppressive darkness, laying claim to all of him.

  Having brought her up to her feet, he pulled Kennon to him, holding her as if, at any moment, she would melt and slide through his fingers.

  From the first moment she’d met Simon she’d had a feeling he was capable of this, of setting her on fire with just the touch of his lips to hers.

  But feeling and knowing were two very different things.

  She’d seriously underestimated just how powerfully he could rock her foundations. It was true that she hadn’t been with anyone, hadn’t so much as exchanged a quick, friendly kiss with a man since Pete had shattered her world and sent her self-esteem on a one-way trip to nowhere. That had been more than a little while ago.