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 as I know, that’s all that matters.” His words replayed in her head and she paused abruptly, thinking.
Because she’d stopped talking, Nathan looked at her, his eyes narrowing as if he was trying to hone in on her thoughts.
“I can hear the wheels turning in your head,” he told her. “What’s going on in there?”
“Maybe a little strategy,” she replied, considering her next move.
Nathan grinned from ear to ear. “That’s my girl,” he declared with feeling. The next moment, Kennon rose to her feet again and tucked her bag strap over her shoulder. “Where are you going?”
“Back to the battlefield,” Kennon replied, tossing the words over her shoulder. “I intend to get to know the subject whether he likes it or not.”
She had more in mind than just that, but this wasn’t the time to fill Nathan in on her game plan. First she would see just how entrenched she needed to get into Dr. Sheffield’s life.
And that was the Kennon Cassidy he knew and loved, Nathan thought. “You go get ‘im, boss,” he called after her.
Kennon didn’t bother turning around. She had work to do.
I fully intend to, Nathan. I fully intend to.
Simon glared and willed the doorbell to be silent.
But it rang again.
Because the girls were within earshot, he swallowed the oath that rose to his lips. He didn’t feel like putting up with anyone. Moreover, he wasn’t expecting anyone. There wasn’t anyone to expect, especially since they were new to the area and, other than the chief of surgery and the principal of the girls’ school, neither of whom had any reason to be ringing his doorbell, he didn’t actually know anyone yet.
Just then, Meghan ran by him like a shot, her focus, the front door.
“Hold it, Meghan!” he called out, exasperated as he came to life and ran after her. “I told you never to let anyone in.”
Looking crestfallen, his younger daughter halted mid-dash, her mission suddenly aborted. “Sorry, Daddy. I was just trying to help.”
He was on the verge of lecturing her that there was a right way and a wrong way to “help,” but she seemed so sad and so earnest at the same time, he found he hadn’t the heart to reprimand her. Instead, he decided to make no comment, feeling it might be better that way.
These days, he operated with a shorter fuse, much shorter than usual, and he didn’t want to risk saying anything in anger that would upset either one of his daughters. Their feelings were particularly fragile and he wasn’t given to apologies. He would have no idea how to reinstate himself into their favor should he ever do anything to bruise their feelings and cause them to look upon him with either fear or a childish sort of disdain.
By the time the doorbell rang for a third time, he’d reached it. Yanking the door open he all but shouted, “Yes?” only to find Kennon Cassidy standing on his doorstep. Again.
A definite sensation of déjà vu washed over him. As did an unexpected, warm feeling he immediately banked down. He did his best to collect his temper and lower his tone. “Did you forget something?”
Now here was a man whose very voice could scare off burglars, she thought. Lucky for her she wasn’t faint of heart. “Yes, that you had no actual pots and pans beyond the one I used for soup.”
And what did that have to do with anything? he wondered. He glanced at the large box she held. By the way she boosted it, he figured it had to be heavy. “And what? You bought a set for us?”
“No, I’m lending you a set.”
As she confirmed his suspicions, Simon took the box from her. He was right, these were heavy. The woman was stronger than she looked.
“These are mine,” she told him, following him into the house. “You can use them until we start outfitting your kitchen.”
Hearing her voice, Madelyn came hurrying into the foyer to join her sister. Both girls wiggled in ahead of him, Simon noted, in their efforts to get closer to this woman who was obviously some sort of modern-day female Pied Piper.
Either that or she’d cast some kind of hypnotic spell over his daughters. He’d never seen them take to anyone so quickly. Or so eagerly.
“You came back!” Meghan cried happily, her eyes shining.
Kennon grinned at her and tousled the girl’s dark hair affectionately. “Yes, I did.”
“Are you going to come in?” Madelyn asked in a sophisticated tone, though it didn’t hide her feelings about Kennon’s return.
Kennon looked up at the girls’ father. He appeared almost stoic, standing there with the box of pots in his hands.
“I don’t know. Am I, Dr. Sheffield?” she asked the man.
He feigned surprise. “You’re actually asking my permission?”
Her expression said that was a given—he had no idea if she was sincere or merely putting him on. He had a feeling that his decorator got her way a lot.
“It
