A Match for the Doctor (3 page)

He intended to make it up to her by giving her decorative services a try. But right now, he had someplace he needed to be. A cardiovascular surgeon wasn't much good to anyone if he didn't have the backing of an accredited hospital where he was allowed to perform his surgeries.

“I'm afraid that I'm going to have to reschedule our meeting. I have another one to go to right now at Blair Memorial Hospital.” He felt after everything that had just gone down, he owed her a little bit of an explanation. “I've been invited to join the hospital's staff, but I have a feeling that if I don't show up for my first meeting with the chief of surgery, that invitation just might be rescinded.”

Now, that at least was beginning to make sense. Kennon nodded.

“Of course. I understand completely. I run into time conflicts all the time.” Opening her purse, she riffled through a few things in her wallet before finding her card. She handed it to him. “Feel free to call me whenever you find you have the time to reschedule. If I'm not in the office, the call will be forwarded to either my cell or my home phone, depending on where I am.”

Simon closed his hand over the card. The corners of his generous mouth curved ever so slightly. “Thanks for being understanding about this,” he apologized. “Things have been up in the air lately and we've just relocated to the area—”

Kennon nodded, wanting to spare him having to go over things needlessly. “No need to explain, Dr. Sheffield. My aunt filled me in on the details.”

Simon eyed her a little uncertainly. “Your aunt?”

Her smile swiftly traveled into her eyes. “The woman who showed you the house you just bought,” she prompted.

After Nathan had told her that her aunt had actually made the appointment for the client, Kennon made it a point to call her as she drove to the Newport Beach house. She never liked walking into something completely unprepared, so she had called Maizie and asked for background information on the client.

Maizie had told her that the man was a surgeon and that he had two small daughters, Madelyn and Meghan. She'd also mentioned that he'd moved here from San Francisco. As a P.S. she'd thrown in at the end that he was a widower. What her aunt had neglected to tell her, Kennon thought, was that he was breathtakingly good-looking.

Aunt Maizie probably thought that was the cherry on the sundae, Kennon reasoned.

Poor Aunt Maizie didn't know about the new leaf that Pete had made her turn. She was no longer in the market for anything but peace and quiet. Men did not fit under that heading. Not in any manner, shape or form. Ergo, she was no longer in the market for one.

“Oh,” Simon was saying. “You aunt is a very nice woman.”

He'd get no argument from her. “Yes, she is,” Kennon agreed.

From behind him the nanny's rather reedy voice called out to him. “Dr. Sheffield.”

“Just a minute, Mrs. O'Malley,” he responded formally without turning in the woman's direction. “Again, I just wanted to explain that it was an honest mistake. I'm told that sales reps for pharmaceutical companies can be very devious and almost ruthless—”

She picked up the cue. “And you think I'm devious and ruthless?” she asked, tongue in cheek.

Cut from a serious cloth these days, Simon didn't realize she was kidding and instantly protested. “I didn't mean to imply that I thought you were, I mean—” He was tripping over his own tongue, trying to apologize for the insult he hadn't actually given.

Kennon was more than happy to absolve him of blame and free him from the awkward moment. She laughed lightly, feeling sorry for the man's distress. Who would have thought that anyone this handsome could also know how to apologize.

“Please, Doctor, don't give it another thought.”

“Dr. Sheffield,” Edna called again. This time her voice was even reedier than before. It broke and faded toward the end.

And then there was a loud thud, as if a large suitcase had been dropped on the floor. At the same moment, Madelyn, his eight-year-old, suddenly screamed and cried out, “Daddy!” in a frightened, high-pitched voice.

Swinging around, Simon saw that his children's nanny was lying facedown and prone on the floor.

“Hurry!” Madelyn implored, frantically beckoning him over with both hands. “Hurry, Daddy,” she said again. “Edna's dead!”

Beside her, Meghan covered her eyes and began to scream. Loudly.

W
hirling around, Simon immediately hurried over to the fallen nanny. Crouching over Edna, he checked her pulse and was relieved with his findings. The pulse was going fast, but it was strong.

“She's not dead, Madelyn,” he told his daughter, indicating Edna's chest area, which was rising and falling rhythmically.

Nonetheless, Madelyn didn't appear to be completely convinced. “Then why are her eyes closed?”

“'Cause she's sleeping.” Meghan emphasized the last word with feeling. She looked at her sister as if Madelyn should have known that.

“That's not a bad explanation,” Simon observed, surprised with his younger daughter's assessment. Meghan took it as praise and preened before her sister.

Other than a few words of greeting each day, Simon hadn't been accustomed to actually talking with his
daughters. That had been a domain reserved for Nancy. Since her death, he'd found himself in a whole new world with little to no clue on how to navigate in it. Children were for the most part a mysterious breed to him.

Aware that both his daughters were looking at him expectantly, he explained, “Edna fainted. She hasn't been feeling well these last couple of days and she probably just turned too quickly.” He'd been too busy getting ready this morning to notice, but now that he reflected, Edna had been coughing and sneezing a great deal more today than yesterday.

Madelyn still didn't look convinced, or at ease. Her eyes still wide, she asked her father in a halting voice, “Is she— Is Edna going to be all right?” She stood there, nervously waiting for an answer. “She's not going to—well, you know.” She lifted her small shoulders, as if the word on her tongue was too heavy to bear or utter. “Like Mama,” she finally whispered, trusting her father to make the connection.

He'd been desperately trying to put a lid on his grief this past year, but he hadn't been oblivious. He had noticed that of his two daughters, Nancy's death seemed to have affected Madelyn more than it had Meghan. The latter had cried when she'd been told, but she also recovered a great deal sooner than Madelyn had, transferring her affection and loyalty to Edna almost effortlessly.

But then, Meghan was only six and she hadn't realized yet just how hard life could knock you down when you were least expecting it.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” the soft voice behind him asked.

Simon realized that he'd all but forgotten about the
decorator. Probably the first man who ever had, he judged, given how attractive she was.

“Yes, you can hold the girls back,” he instructed. He didn't want either of them getting underfoot, even if it was eagerness to help that propelled them.

Scooping the unconscious nanny up into his arms, Simon struggled to his feet.

Edna was a decidedly solid woman, he thought, as his arms strained and a rather odd pain cut across the tops of his thighs. The woman was strong for her age. The downside of that was she was also heavy.

As she heard him take a deep breath that suggested he was glad he'd risen without embarrassing himself, Kennon watched the man in silent amazement. Not many men could have done that so smoothly. Ordinarily, they would have either left the woman on the floor until she regained consciousness or asked for help in getting her up and onto a more comfortable surface. He'd just squatted and had done what amounted to a dead lift, an exercise favored by dedicated bodybuilders.

Kennon continued to keep a light but restraining hand on each of the girls' shoulders, holding them back until their father began to walk. And then, still resting a hand on each of their shoulders, she gently guided Madelyn and Meghan into the living room, behind their father.

It was then that she noticed that the doctor actually did have one piece of furniture downstairs—a sofa that appeared completely out of place in the wide, cathedralceilinged room. The maroon, oversize sofa was sagging in a number of places and definitely did not look as if it belonged in the house.

A loaner?

She remembered that on occasion her aunt would
make use of one of those companies that rented furniture out by the month. She did it to give the property she was showing a warmer look. Obviously that hadn't been the goal here. Rather than bright and cheery, the sofa just looked worn and ready to be retired.

Still, it had to be more comfortable than the floor, she reasoned. And the object here was Edna's comfort, even if she was still unconscious.

Troubled, shifting from foot to foot, Madelyn gave no indication that she'd been placated by her father's answer. “Are you sure she's not dead?” the eight-year-old asked anxiously.

Kennon smiled into Madelyn's face, fielding the question for him. “Your father's a doctor, honey. I'm sure he knows the difference between someone being dead or alive. Besides—” she leaned in closer to the girl “—if you look very carefully, you can see Edna's chest rising and falling. That means she's breathing. Breathing is a very good indication that your nanny's alive.”

With a sniff that told Kennon Madelyn was doing her best not to cry, the little girl solemnly nodded her head. “Okay,” she said, accepting the explanation. Even so, her eyes were shining with unshed tears. “It's just that Mama—”

“Never mind,” her father said, cutting her off briskly. He had no desire to have his personal life spread out before a total stranger. Turning from the sofa, he looked at the decorator his Realtor had sent. She seemed at ease, standing between his daughters like that, he noted. Something he hadn't quite been able to manage yet. “Miss—” He stopped short, realizing that he was missing a crucial piece of information. “What did you say your name was?”

“Cassidy. Kennon,” she added, supplying her first name without being asked. She smiled at the girls. “I know it's not the easiest name to remember.”

The doctor frowned slightly, or was that his normal expression, Kennon wondered. If it was, it was a shame, because he was too good-looking a man to detract from his features by perpetually frowning.

“Ease is not always of tantamount importance,” the doctor told her. “But manners are.”

He was a disciplinarian, Kennon guessed. She wondered if he realized how hard that could be on his daughters.

Her own father had been a Marine colonel who lived and breathed the service long after he retired from it. He was quite possibly the most distant man she'd ever known. Growing up with him had been like growing up with a disapproving stranger. Maybe it was her need for acceptance and affection that had made her pick the wrong man to love in the first place.

She heard Simon sigh in obvious exasperation.

Kennon's attention was immediately drawn to the woman on the sofa. “Is something wrong?”

Simon's frown deepened. “You mean other than the fact that I need to be at a meeting at the hospital with the chief of surgery in less than half an hour, my girls are due in school and my housekeeper is ill and presently unconscious?” he asked with barely suppressed sarcasm. “No, nothing's wrong.”

Well, that tongue of his wasn't about to melt butter anytime soon, Kennon thought. Still, with all that on his plate, she supposed she couldn't really fault his less than sunny disposition. A lot of men were lost without
their wives and he was one of them. She found that oddly appealing.

“You wouldn't happen to know where I could find a capable young woman to take my daughters to school and then come back to keep an eye on my housekeeper until I can come home, would you?” His tone indicated that he wasn't actually expecting an answer. He was just blowing off a little steam as he searched for a solution to his overwhelming dilemma.

Kennon paused for a moment. She had cleared her entire morning to give Dr. Sheffield the proper amount of time for a first decorator-client meeting. She wasn't due anywhere, which meant that she was free to ride to his rescue. Ordinarily, she wouldn't hesitate, but this situation was a little different.

Kennon couldn't quite make up her mind whether she thought of Simon Sheffield as exceedingly businesslike or a martinet just this side of stuffy and rude. But she'd always had a soft spot when it came to children, and his daughters were adorable. The man was obviously in need of help. If she came to his aid, maybe the man would feel obligated to engage her services and hire her to decorate his house.

No, she reconsidered, he didn't strike her as the type who felt obligated or believed in the eye-for-an-eye theory. Not unless it involved pistols at ten paces.

Still, he did need help, she did have the time and she had an affinity for children. She'd always had a weakness for the short set, Kennon thought fondly. And it was obvious to everyone. An only child, she'd started babysitting at a young age and had loved kids as far back as she could remember.

Her mother frequently told her that she had the
makings of a wonderful mother. This observation was
always
accompanied by a plaintive lament that it was such a shame that she hadn't started a family yet.

Maybe someday.
And if her “clock” ran out as she waited for “someday” to come, adoption for single mothers was getting easier.

Oh, what the hell? What did she have to lose by volunteering? Kennon made up her mind.

“Me,” she said.

There was confusion in his deep blue eyes. “You what?”

“The capable person you're looking for,” Kennon told him. “I can be her. I mean, I
am
her.” What
was
it about this man that made her talk as if she had a speech impediment? Kennon blew out a breath and started from the top again. “I can take your girls to school if you tell me which school they're attending, and then I can come back and stay with your housekeeper until you get back.” The doctor didn't appear to be won over by her proposal. “If you're worried about Mrs. O'Malley being alone while I take the girls, I can call my assistant. Nathan will stay with her until I get back.”

“Why?” Simon asked, not attempting to hide the fact that he was scrutinizing her as he asked. He might have gotten along well with her father. Too bad her dad hadn't stayed in touch after her parents divorced.

Kennon wasn't sure exactly what Simon was asking. She had volunteered a lot of information just now. “Excuse me?”

“Why would you do that?” he asked her. “Take my daughters to school and have your assistant babysit Edna?” Where he came from, people kept to themselves,
they didn't volunteer to help, especially not essential strangers.

He certainly was the uptight, suspicious type. She was really beginning to feel sorry for his daughters. “Because you just said—”

He waved his hand at her explanation, dismissing it. “I know what I just said, but we're strangers.”

Was that it? She laughed. “Not for long if I'm going to decorate your house.” She'd already told him that she needed to get to know him in order to do her job—or hadn't he been paying attention at all? “I can't think of a better way to get to know you, Dr. Sheffield, than jumping feet first into your life.”

The image obviously captivated the younger of his two daughters. Meghan started giggling. “Can I watch you jump?” she asked.

Kennon couldn't resist running her hand along the little girl's soft cheek. Meghan was nothing if not adorably squeezable, but she refrained, knowing from firsthand experience and her mother's annoying great-aunt, that children didn't like being squeezed.

“It's just an expression, honey,” Kennon told her with a laugh. Then she looked at Simon, still waiting for his response. “Offer's still open.”

He was not in a position to be picky and he supposed that if this overly friendly decorator came with the real-estate woman's recommendation—Maizie Sommers had reminded him of his own late mother—at least that was better than finding someone in the classified section and taking his chances.

Resigned—his back was up against the wall—he nodded and took out his house key. He held it out to the decorator—he'd forgotten her name again. “Thanks. I
appreciate this. By the way, there's no need to call in your assistant.”

He almost sounded as if he meant what he said about thanking her, she thought. Of course, it might have helped if he'd smiled when he said it, but she had a feeling that Simon Sheffield didn't do much smiling. Pocketing the key, she asked an all-important question. “And the name of their school?” she asked him.

“Saint Elizabeth Ann Seton,” Edna murmured weakly.

“Edna, you
are
alive!” Madelyn cried, overjoyed. She threw her arms around the woman, giving her a fierce hug. Meghan piled on top of her.

“Let her breathe, girls,” Simon warned sternly. The next moment he moved his daughters back, away from their nanny. “How are you feeling?” he asked the woman. He took her pulse again. It was still rapid, but not as reedy as it'd been. The beat was stronger now.

“Embarrassed,” Edna replied in a voice that still had very little strength behind it.

“Nothing to be embarrassed about,” he dismissed crisply. “I want you to rest here for at least a few hours—until I get back.”

Edna looked dismayed. She tried to sit up, but was too weak for the moment to follow through. “But the girls—” she began to protest.

“Are being taken care of,” Simon assured the nanny. He turned to the woman who seemed to be a godsend—if he actually believed in things like that. “The girls' school is on—”

Kennon held up her hand to stop him. “I grew up here,” she told him. “I know where Saint Elizabeth Ann Seton School is.” She began to usher the girls toward
the front door. “By the way, the hospital you're going to, you said that it was Blair Memorial—”

“Yes,” he cut in suspiciously. “Why?”

Definitely not the most trusting of men, she thought. Did the distrust come naturally to him, or had something caused it, she wondered.