Susan Carlisle - The Surgeon's Cinderella

He leaned forward, piercing her with a look.

She shifted in the chair.

Tanner crossed his arms on the table. “Tell me what you think this should be about.”

Her eyes widened. She did have pretty ones. Like green grass after spring rain. She blinked. “It isn’t about what I think but about what you want.”

“Spoken like a true matchmaker, eager to please. Are you married, Whitney?”

Her chin raised a notch. “I don’t believe that has anything to do with your case.”

“It might not but it gives me an idea of how good you are at this matchmaking business.”

She shifted in her chair. “If you don’t have any confidence if my ability then I’ll be glad to refund your money minus five hundred dollars for the work I’ve done so far.”

He’d hit a touchy spot. “And add the charge for the hug and kiss after all?”

She relaxed and shook her head. “No. I wouldn’t do that. This isn’t a joke.”

He leaned back in the chair and watched her for a long moment. Her direct look challenged his. This was a woman who wouldn’t give up until she had succeeded. “You’re right—it isn’t. I’m not ready to throw in the towel yet.”

“Then you do understand that I have the same responsibility to the women I introduce you to as I do to you?”

She had backbone and a moral line. What you saw was what you got with Whitney. That was refreshing. Most women he knew were only really interested in themselves. “I realize that. I’ll try to be on my best behavior.”

“I’m starting to wonder what that is. I also expect you to give them a fair chance.” Her tone had become schoolmarmish.

“You don’t think I gave Michelle that?”

She didn’t immediately answer. “Truthfully, I’m not sure you did.”

It didn’t matter to him if she thought so or not. He knew what he wanted better than she did, matchmaker or not. It was his life they were talking about. He’d seen what uninvited and unrequited love did to a person. He wanted none of it. Good, solid, practical thought was what his marriage would be based on.

A blonde woman stepped up to their table. Whitney jerked around as if she’d forgotten all about her joining them. Tanner smiled. She’d been too flustered by his questions to remember why they were there. He liked the idea that he’d rattled Whitney. Too much.

“Hello, Racheal. I’m sorry I didn’t see you when you came in.” Whitney’s voice sounded a little higher than normal.

Once again, Whitney was a contrast to her female client. Racheal had a short haircut and every strand was in its place. Her makeup was flawless and she wore the latest fashion with ease. She certainly looked the part of the woman he thought he would like to share his name. He looked at Whitney and somehow he found her more to his taste. Shaking that thought away, Tanner returned his attention to Racheal.

He stood and offered his hand to her. “Tanner Locke. Thanks for joining us.”

He held a chair out for Racheal and she gracefully slipped into it.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Racheal had a no-nonsense note in her voice.

He looked at Whitney. “I’ve already ordered drinks.”

“Thank you, Tanner. I think I’ll leave you and Racheal to get to know each other better. I’ll be in touch soon.”

Tanner remained standing as she left. A tug of disappointment went through him to see her go. Why?

* * *

Whitney hadn’t heard from Tanner in three days. Far too often she had found herself wondering how things were going between him and Racheal. She liked to give her clients time to get to know each other and digest their thoughts on the new match before she asked. This time she was particularly anxious to know.

Racheal had already checked in. She seemed pleased with Tanner. According to her, they’d had a wonderful time talking at the social and had enjoyed their first date. Maybe she had found the right one for Tanner after all. But she had thought that with Michelle. She would wait until tomorrow and give him a call. See if he was as pleased as Racheal.

That evening Whitney was just slipping into bed when her phone rang. A call this late usually didn’t mean good news. Was her father ill again? “Hello?”

“It’s Tanner.”

His voice was low and gravelly. There was no apology for calling so late. She wasn’t surprised. But with his schedule he probably thought nothing of it. “Yes?”

“You told me to call and let you know how things are going.”

She had indeed told him that but had assumed he would do so during business hours. An edgy feeling washed over her, knowing she was in bed while talking to Tanner. It seemed far too evocative. She flipped the covers back and stood beside the bed.

“Racheal seems to be working out. We went out last night. I have a party on Friday that I’ve invited her to.” His voice was low and calm, as if he had all the time in the world to talk.

“I’m glad to hear it. I’ll check in with you both next week. I look forward to hearing how the relationship is progressing.”

“How have you been?” His voice was warm and silky.

Whitney walked to the window. “I’m fine.”

“That’s good. Goodnight.”

Whitney listened to the click on the other end of the line. She returned to her bed and pulled the covers over herself again. Somehow the sheets didn’t feel as cool anymore.

Maybe Racheal was it. Had Tanner found the one he wanted? Whitney wished she felt happier about that idea.

Even if he hadn’t, he wouldn’t look at her that way. Did she want him to? Turning off the light, she settled under the covers, but it took her far too long to fall asleep.

* * *

Whitney continued to wonder how things were going between Tanner and Racheal. More than once she’d been tempted to call him but had held back. She’d never had that problem before. Normally she let her couples go without thought or overseeing them, but Tanner’s case held too much of her attention.

Whitney was already asleep a week later when the phone rang. She picked up the phone and a man’s voice said, “Just what type of women are you introducing me to? You’re supposed to be the best at this.”

“Tanner, what’s going on? Do you know what time it is?”

“Yes. I know what time it is.” He sounded angry.

At this point the time didn’t matter. She was awake anyway. Despite that, she found herself happy to finally hear from him. “What’s the problem?”

“The problem is that Racheal backed out of a weekend we had planned in Napa. It’s a hospital retreat and I had already said I would be bringing a guest. I’m trying to make a positive impression on the board. This situation could hurt my chance for a promotion.”

“I’m sorry.” And she was. He was a good doctor and deserved it, she was sure.

“You should be. I hold you responsible.”

“Me!” Whitney squeaked and set up in bed.

“I’m paying you to provide me with women who understand the importance of my job and position.”

What was he raving about? “Racheal didn’t?”

“I guess not. She agreed to go and now at the last minute she’s backed out.”

Whitney worked to keep her tone even. “Did she give you a reason?”

“She just said she wasn’t ready for this step.”

That sounded reasonable to Whitney. “You can’t expect her to do something that she isn’t comfortable with.”

“I damn well can expect her to keep her word.”

He had a point there, but what did he imagine she could do about it? She couldn’t make Racheal go with him. “I have to honor what my clients feel they need to do.”

“And you have to honor our contract. I need someone as my girlfriend this weekend.”

It was Thursday. How was she going to find someone who would go away with a perfect stranger on such short notice? “I wish I could help you, Tanner. At this point I don’t know what I can do.”

“Well, I do. If you can’t find me someone then you have to come. At least that way I’ll be bringing a guest. I can make up a story about how we broke up later.”

What? Is he crazy? Spend a weekend with him?

“That’s not possible. It’s unethical. You’re my client.”

“One you’re expected to keep happy. You were supposed to vet the women you introduce me to. You failed in determining Racheal’s true character. I expect you to meet your professional obligation.”

How did that logically extend to her personally replacing a client?

“Look, this weekend is important to my career, just as finding the right woman is. There will be no expectations on my part except for you to be pleasant and act as if we’re a couple.” His voice was firm and determined, as if he wouldn’t accept no as an answer.

Whitney’s heart pounded. Was she seriously going to consider it? “You can’t just demand that I spend the weekend with you.”

“Sure I can.” His voice had turned hard. “We have a contract for services and you need to hold up your end. It was your suggestion that I pick Racheal. She didn’t hold up her end so that defaults to you.”

Whitney wasn’t sure she agreed with his reasoning but she didn’t need him bad-mouthing her around town. She’d taken Tanner on as a client to increase her professional profile, not to hurt it. Plus, she hated that he was in a spot.

If she agreed to his demand she couldn’t imagine the weekend being anything but long and miserable. She didn’t belong in his social group. She was an outsider. Tanner wanted someone who could make a good impression. More than once she’d been judged by her looks. He needed someone who could influence. That wasn’t her. She was good with people one on one but not as a member of a house party. To run in Tanner’s world...

“I’ll pick you up at nine in the morning. What’s your address?”

“Tanner, I can’t do this.”

“Oh, yes, you can,” he all but hollered down the phone.

He wasn’t going to allow her a way out. Apprehension bubbled in Whitney as she gave him her address.

“You’ll need a cocktail dress, swimsuit and casual clothes.” There was a click on the other end of the line. Tanner had hung up. Once again.

Whitney lay there. What had just happened? She’d just gotten press-ganged into a weekend with Tanner as his “plus one.” What was he thinking? What was she doing?

Those bubbles combined into a heavy mass of dread in her chest. She wasn’t part of Tanner’s world. What if she made a mistake and embarrassed him?

If she had really changed from that insecure girl from years ago it was time to prove it.

CHAPTER THREE

TANNER DIDN’T KNOW what had gotten into him when he’d insisted that Whitney join him on this weekend retreat. He had been so angry when Racheal had called and told him that she wouldn’t be going that he’d picked up the phone and dialed Whitney’s number without a thought. But to insist she attend a weekend with him might have been overreacting. Desperation had fueled his demand. He needed a woman on his arm.

Well, it was done now.

For him to have a “significant other” with him for the weekend was an unwritten requirement. Besides, he might have hinted to one or two of the board members that he’d become serious about someone. It mustn’t look like he’d been lying or he could kiss that promotion goodbye.

He pulled his car to the curb in front of Whitney’s home. To his surprise, he’d known the address. She lived in one of the famous “painted ladies.” Whitney stood waiting in front of a light blue Victorian row house with a yellow door and white gingerbread trimmings. Pink flowers grew in pots on the steps. The house was an obvious reflection of Whitney. He’d always liked these old homes. Something about them said life was peaceful inside.