A Match for the Doctor / What the Single Dad Wants…. Marie Ferrarella

as he didn’t, Simon thought. He knew he was struggling and somewhat remiss in his job as a parent.

      As their only parent.

      This was tough going. It wasn’t that he didn’t love them—he did, but he just couldn’t show it, didn’t know how to show it or how to express it. Moreover, although they were his blood, he had trouble relating to them.

      His own parents had been distant while he was growing up and thus he had no real clue how to talk to his own children, not in the way he felt that Madelyn meant.

      That sort of communication had been up to his wife and Edna. They had both dealt with the day-to-day business of the girls’ lives. He had never developed the knack. Work became his sanctuary, his excuse, his very validation. His contact with them heretofore was cursory. He only interacted with them on occasion, making sure that they were fed and clothed and thriving, at least physically. As for how they were faring emotionally, well, that was something else again, something he felt that he wasn’t equipped to handle. But that was all right as long as they’d had their mother.

      But now they didn’t have her.

      He knew that he had shortcomings. He’d never pretended otherwise. Serious shortcomings, highlighted by the fact that a complete stranger, practically walking in off the street, was better at interacting with his daughters than he was.

      “Would you like Miss Cassidy to come back?” He asked the question to humor them. He assumed they’d say yes, but he wasn’t prepared for the loud chorus of “Yes!” that assaulted his ears. For two rather small girls, they had powerful vocal chords when they were motivated.

      “Is she going to be our new nanny?” Meghan asked.

      Madelyn frowned, instantly thinking ahead. “Doesn’t Edna like us anymore?”

      He felt like Pandora several seconds after opening the legendary box. “Of course Edna likes you. She’s just not feeling well and, no, Miss Cassidy isn’t going to be your new nanny.”

      “Then what is she going to be?” Madelyn wanted to know.

       More than likely, a pain in my butt.

      Simon had no idea where that had come from or why he was so certain that it was true, but he was. There was something about the determined look in the woman’s eyes as she had left the house that had put him on notice, telling him he was about to, willingly or otherwise, enter a heretofore undiscovered region.

      He hoped he was wrong.

      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