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