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I have a feeling that if I don’t show up for my first meeting with the chief of surgery, that invitation just might be rescinded.”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,
