A Match for the Doctor / What the Single Dad Wants…: A Match for the Doctor

And died in his place when the tsunami, born in the wake of the 8.3 earthquake that had ripped through Indonesia, swept away her and more than two dozen other people less than three days later.

Edna had been the one to break the news to him, tapping on his door the morning that the tsunami had hit, her eyes red-rimmed from weeping. Edna O’Malley had once been Nancy’s nanny and was now nanny to their two daughters, Madelyn and Meghan. She had come into his bedroom and in her soft, quiet voice said the words that ended the world as he knew it.

“Our Nancy was swept out to sea by a tsunami, Doctor.”

He’d stared at her in disbelief, then felt as if he’d been repeatedly stabbed in the gut with a rusted serrated knife.

Thirteen months later, he still hadn’t healed. He knew that if he had a prayer of moving forward and providing for their girls, he needed to start somewhere fresh and lock away all the memories until such time as it wouldn’t hurt so much to be confronted by them.

Because of her ties to Nancy, he’d almost left Edna back in San Francisco, as well. But he needed someone to look after the girls while he was away at the hospital, someone he trusted. As a cardiovascular surgeon he couldn’t lay claim to an average nine-to-five existence, and he needed someone to be there to fill in the gaps. Finding a new nanny was much too time-consuming.

Besides, Edna needed something to keep her going, as well, a reason for waking up in the morning. Simon was well aware that in her own way, Edna had loved Nancy as much as he did, as much as a mother did. And she loved the girls, as well. To lose all three of them in thirteen months would have destroyed the woman, and God knew he didn’t want someone else on his conscience.

Simon felt he already had more than enough guilt to deal with.

He had to get moving, Simon upbraided himself. It was late. Getting out of bed in the morning was still unbelievably difficult for him. Especially when, for just a glimmer of a moment, when he first opened his eyes in the morning, he didn’t remember.

And then he did.

The full weight of remembering oppressed him to the point that he had trouble breathing. But it was slowly getting easier. Not easy, but just easier, and that, he knew, was all he could logically hope for.

If he was going to be of any use to his patients and the hospital where he would be working, Simon knew he needed to get back to the business of living.

Which was why being late for his first meeting with Dr. Edward Hale, the chief of surgery at Blair Memorial, was not a very good idea.

When the doorbell rang with its odd, teeth-jarring chimes, it was just one more thing for him to be annoyed about.

Now what? he wondered impatiently as he shrugged into his jacket. The obligatory necktie was stuffed into his pocket, knotted and ready to be pressed into service should he need it. As a rule, he hated ties and saw them as an unnecessary evil.

A sneeze in the distance told him that Edna was making her way to the front door. The last couple of days, she seemed to be coming down with a bad cold despite her protests that she was fine.

When it rained …

“I’ll get it, Edna,” he called out. Edna already had more than her hands full, Simon thought, just getting Madelyn, eight, and Meghan, six, ready for school.

But even though he’d just told her that he would open the front door on his way out, he knew Edna was too stubborn to retreat.

Sure enough, there she was, hurrying to the door. Dedicated right down to the soles of her excessively sensible shoes, Edna O’Malley appeared a bit older than her sixty-seven years and was, to the undiscerning eye, the epitome of the comfortable, capable British nanny of decades past. Not exactly plump, but far from thin, at five foot ten Edna cast a considerable shadow.

“I’m not dead yet, Doctor,” Edna told him firmly, refusing to tolerate being coddled in any manner. She struggled to stifle the deep cough that insisted on rumbling inside her chest.

Simon shook his head. “You will be if you don’t take it easy,” he warned her.

Edna spared him a reproving glance. “If that’s the kind of medical advice you’re dispensing, Doctor, it’s a surprise to me there’s no wolf at our door. But wait, perhaps that’s him now,” Edna amended glibly as she opened the massive door. Lights danced in through the beveled glass, casting multicolored bursts on the wall. “No, no wolf. A waif instead,” the nanny pronounced after giving the slender young woman standing on their doorstep a quick once-over.

The next moment, Edna quickly turned her head toward the door and sneezed loudly enough to befit a person twice her size and girth.

“Bless you,” Kennon said automatically. “I have an appointment to see a Dr. Simon Sheffield.”

Edna sneezed a third time, sighed heavily as she dug into her deep pockets for her handkerchief and blew her nose before giving the young woman another critical once-over.

Sniffling, she wadded the handkerchief back up and shoved it into her pocket again. “I’m afraid the doctor doesn’t do house calls, miss—even from his own house. You’ll have to see him during office hours in his office.”

Okay, this was obviously a misunderstanding. “But I’m not sick,” Kennon began. She got no further.

“Good for you,” the nanny declared. “That makes one of us. Me, I’m feeling rather poorly,” she went on to confide as she lowered her voice.

Kennon tried to look sympathetic while wondering what any of this had to do with her appointment. She pressed her lips together. Had there been a mistake?

The next moment, before she could speak further to the sneezing woman who stood in her way, she caught a movement out of the corner of her eye.

A man, undoubtedly the poster boy for the description of “tall, dark and handsome,” came to the door. In his wake came two very lively little girls, obviously his. Each had the man’s bright blue eyes and thick hair, except that his was dark and theirs was a lighter shade of brown and curly. And, unlike their father, the little girls weren’t scowling. They were just eyeing her curiously.

“Who’s that, Daddy?” the younger one asked, staring up at her with the bluest eyes Kennon had ever seen.

“A lady who’s selling something,” he assumed. With a careful movement, he edged both Edna and his daughters back behind him and stood facing the woman on his doorstep. Attractive though she was, whatever the woman was selling, he had no time to hear her sales pitch. “I’m sorry but I’m in a hurry,” he apologized politely, “and I don’t have time to buy anything.”

“I wasn’t planning on pressuring you into buying anything in five minutes flat,” Kennon assured the good-looking physician.

Furnishing a house took time and while she always accompanied a client when he or she went out to purchase an item, even subtly guiding them toward certain things, the ultimate choice was always theirs. After all, they were the ones who had to live with whatever they wound up selecting.

Kennon wasn’t prepared for the puzzled, somewhat annoyed look that came over the man’s face.

The woman was trying to sell him something. Subscriptions? he guessed, glancing at the rather large, square briefcase in her hand.

Or did she represent some pharmaceutical company, wanting to snare his attention before any of the others got to him? He knew all about how competitive sales reps could be, but until now, he’d always had someone shielding him. One of the receptionists or office managers would field the calls, make appropriate comments and promise that “someone” would be getting back to them.

Had they taken to trying to corner physicians before they got to the office? It seemed unusual, but not out of the question. Competition, he’d heard, was steep and cutthroat.

Obviously, they’d sent their most attractive saleswoman. He couldn’t help wondering if she had a brain, as well, or if chutzpa was all she was gifted with. That and possibly the longest legs he’d ever seen.

“Wow,” he murmured, “and I thought that the companies in San Francisco were pushy.”

“That’s just the point, Doctor. I’m not pushy,” Kennon quietly corrected him. “The ultimate choice in what you decide to buy or not buy is yours. All I do is just make a variety of suggestions.”

She had, he thought, the closest thing to a perfect figure he’d ever seen. But it still wasn’t enough to make him promise to advise his patients to take one drug above another, just because her packaging was better than some other company’s. He had to believe in a medication before he prescribed it.

He needed to get this woman out of here—and himself, as well. Suppressing a few exasperated words that rose to his lips, Simon took hold of the petite blonde’s arm and firmly moved her across the threshold, back to his doorstep. “Look, I’m sure whatever you’re pushing has a market, but right now, I’m not interested.”

Aunt Maizie, you’re really going to have to test these guys for sanity before you send them on to someone, Kennon thought.

She saw the man’s little girls standing directly behind him, their blue eyes as big as proverbial saucers as they peered out at her. The little one smiled shyly at her.

The girls were adorable. Hopefully for their sake they were adopted, since insanity could run in the family, she thought.

Kennon glanced back at the doctor. “Look, Dr. Sheffield, I can’t just do this hit-and-run. You’re obviously too busy right now and I need some time in order to do my job properly.” He stared at her as if she’d suddenly started speaking pig Latin, so she tried to make him understand her approach. “I usually try to get to know a few things about my client before I really get started.”

The man still appeared stunned, not to mention somewhat bemused.

“It’s very important to me that you wind up liking what I do, not just for a referral for future jobs, but because I like leaving satisfied clients in my wake.”

He’d heard that drug reps were pushy, getting information about doctors so they could appeal to them on a friendly level, approach them like old friends instead of potential markets for their employer’s product. This one was in a class by herself. He was almost tempted to ask her who she represented, but that would only be opening the door for her and he had a feeling that she could go on and on.

“I really don’t have time for this.”

Kennon looked past the doctor’s rather broad shoulders and into the heart of the house. It was a beautiful house. Beautiful and barren. He really did need some furniture. If only to give his daughters a feeling of stability.

“But your house is empty,” she protested. “You need furniture.”

“What does that have to do with it?” he asked.

“Everything,” Kennon insisted. Okay, maybe she should start all over again, she told herself. She’d obviously lost the man somewhere. “I’m Kennon Cassidy.” She put her hand out. When he didn’t take it immediately, she added, “The decorator.” She waited for the light to dawn in his incredibly beautiful, piercing blue eyes. It didn’t. Maybe the man had a short attention span and needed more input. “Maizie Sommers told you I’d be coming.” She took a breath. Still nothing. She added a coda. “She said you had an empty house that was badly in need of furnishing.”

That was when the bells finally went off in his head. “Oh. Maizie,” he repeated, recalling the savvy, attractive woman who had helped him find what she’d referred to as “the right house for your girls.” He’d been completely at a loss when he’d gone to the Realtor. She’d all but reshaped him with her bare hands. For a moment he clung to the familiar name like a drowning man clung to a life preserver that had suddenly drifted within his reach.

Simon nodded, feeling more than a little like a fool for having made the mistake. If he’d let her talk instead of cutting her off at every sentence, maybe this misunderstanding wouldn’t have taken up so much time.

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.

Chapter Three

Whirling 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, cathedral-ceilinged 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.