It was apparent that Ruth saw potential here. “A jump start on becoming a grandmother. I can live with that.” She leaned in closer. “What does he do for a living?”
Maizie smiled. “He’s a cardiovascular surgeon.”
“A doctor?” Ruth cried. She began to glow with enthusiasm. “Maizie, I think I love you. All is forgiven.”
“Nice to know,” Maizie said dryly.
Sarcasm had always been wasted on her late husband’s sister. Now was no exception.
Some things never changed, Maizie thought as she looked up Dr. Simon Sheffield’s cell phone number.
Chapter One
“Good God, woman, have you been here all night?”
The partially perturbed, partially breathless question shot out of Nathan LeBeau’s mouth ten seconds after he’d flipped on the light switch in the back office and subsequently jumped when he saw something moving on the white leather sofa. Nathan’s thin, aristocratic hand was dramatically splayed over his shallow chest in the approximate region of his heart, presumably to keep it from leaping out of said chest.
“How am I supposed to impress you with my hard work when you keep insisting on being an overachiever and staying here until all hours of the night?” He went to the office’s lone window and drew back the light blue vertical blinds. “You’re lucky you’re not dialing 9-1-1 right now.”
“Why would I be dialing 9-1-1?” Kennon Cassidy murmured, trying to clear the cobwebs out of her brain, the sugary taste out of her mouth and the protesting kinks out of her shoulders. She had little success in any of the endeavors.
“Because you scared me half to death,” Nathan informed her with a toss of his deep chestnut mane. Blessed with incredibly thick hair, Nathan deliberately wore it long, in the fashion of a driven music conductor.
Nathan’s words were addressed to Kennon Cassidy, technically his employer, more aptly described as his friend and, initially, his mentor.
Kennon sat up on the sofa and looked up at her tall and more than occasionally judgmental assistant. “What time is it?”
Nathan scrutinized her attire. “I’d say way past the time when your carriage turned into a pumpkin, standing in the field next to your musically gifted pet mice.”
Kennon waved a dismissive hand in his direction. “You’ve been watching way too many classic cartoons, Nathan.”
“Not by choice,” he said defensively. “Judith insists that’s all I can let Rebecca and Stuart watch when I babysit the little darlings. Can’t wait until those two hit puberty and stage a revolt on my straitlaced sister.”
Nathan put his hand on his hip expectantly as he regarded the slender, slightly rumpled blonde who had taken a chance on him when he had bluffed his way into the office four years ago. “You really need to move on, you know.”
Her eyes met his. There was no way she was having this discussion. “No, I really need to get rid of this sugary taste,” she told him. “Apparently I fell asleep with a cough drop in my mouth.”
Rising, Kennon caught her reflection in the window. She shuddered. God, she looked like death warmed over. Barely warmed over.
The next second, she stifled a yawn while trying to remember when she’d fallen asleep. “I just lay down on the sofa for a minute to close my eyes.”
“Apparently you succeeded beyond your wildest dreams.”
“What time is it?” she asked Nathan, this time in earnest. “Really,” she underlined.
“It’s tomorrow,” Nathan answered. When she looked at him quizzically he backtracked for her benefit. “Tuesday. Eight-thirty a.m. May fourth. The year of our Lord, two thousand—”
Kennon threw her hand up in the air to stop him. Nathan had the ability to go on and on if she let him.
“I know what year it is, Nathan,” she informed him. “I’m not exactly Rip Van Winkle, you know.”
“I hear he started out by taking long naps,” Nathan told her dryly. He glanced at the open sketchbook she was currently using. “Were you working on the Prestons’ house?”
That had been her initial intent. But what she’d really been working on was her self-esteem. Although she loved Nathan like the brother she’d never had, she was not about to dwell on that point for him. It was bad enough that her assistant knew about her breakup with Pete, or rather, Pete’s breakup with her, since Pete had been the one to end the relationship and walk out. Granted, she hadn’t been head-over-heels, can’t-seem-to-catch-my-breath in love with the man, but it bothered her to no end that she hadn’t seen the breakup coming.
One morning, after living with her for two years, Pete announced that he’d fallen “out of love” with her. And in love with some big-eyed, bigger-breasted, conscienceless little blonde whom he had the absolute gall to marry six short weeks after blowing a hole in her world.
Since she’d been so drastically wrong about the man she’d assumed she was going to marry, Kennon began to doubt her ability to make any kind of a decent judgment call.
She was finally putting her life back in order when she heard that Pete and his wife were expecting. It had hit her harder than she’d thought. She had a real weak spot when it came to children.
“Yes, I was,” she replied, thinking it best just to go along with the excuse Nathan had just handed her. “I was working on the Preston home.”
He pushed the sketchbook aside, clearly indicating that he saw nothing worthy of her expertise. “Okay, let’s see it.”
The truth was, she had nothing to show for her efforts. She’d come up with better ideas her first year in college. “See what?” she asked vaguely.
“See what you’ve come up with,” Nathan said patiently.
“I think you’ve got this turned around, Nathan. I sign your checks, you don’t sign mine.”
“You also didn’t come up with anything, did you?” he asked.
She shrugged, looking away. “Nothing worth my time.”
“And that would apply to a broad spectrum of things,” he replied, circling her so that she could get the benefit of his pointed look.
She knew Nathan meant well, but he needed to back off for now. “Nathan, I’ve already got one mother. I don’t need two.”
“Good, because you don’t have two,” he told her briskly. “I’m just a friend who doesn’t want to see you wasting your time, missing a guy you shouldn’t have given the time of day to in the first place.”
She’d given Pete more than the time of day. She’d given him over two years of her life, she thought angrily.
“I don’t want to talk about him,” she said firmly.
Nathan nodded approvingly. “Good, because neither do I. Now splash some water in your face, put on some makeup and change your clothes,” he instructed. As he spoke, he opened a cabinet that ordinarily contained hanging files but now held a navy-blue pinstripe skirt and a white short-sleeved oval-neck top.
Whipping them out on their hangers, Nathan held the prizes aloft before her, even as he put one hand to the small of her back. He propelled her toward the bathroom. “We want you looking your best.”
Kennon stopped