Читать книгу Make Me a Match - Alice Sharpe, Alice Sharpe - Страница 10

Clutching one very irritable tabby cat in her arms, Lora Gifford wondered who the heck the good-looking man walking through the examination room door might be.

The veterinarian she’d come to interrogate…er, meet?

No way.

For one thing, this guy didn’t appear to need the love of a good woman to whip him into shape. Besides, she had it on good authority that Dr. Reed was over sixty. This guy appeared to be half that age and what with his golden tan and chiseled features, looked more like a movie star than an animal doctor. Even the way he took off his wire rim glasses had star quality.

Drat.

Okay, back to plan B—whatever that might turn out to be. All she had to do now was figure out a graceful way of exiting, stage left. He smiled at her and another thought crossed her mind. What if this interloper had information? It might save time to just stay put and ask.

First things first, however. “Who are you?” she said, and because she hadn’t intended her question to sound quite so much like an accusation, added, “It’s just that I was expecting Doctor Victor Reed.”

Mr. Hollywood folded his glasses into his breast pocket and extended a hand. “Victor’s out of the office. I’m Jon Woods. I’ll be happy to take a look at your cat this morning.”

Intending to politely shake his hand, Lora relaxed her hold on Boggle, who took the opportunity to make for the hills. She gasped in pain as the cat’s needle-like claws punctured the weave of her sweater, tearing holes in the tender flesh of her upper arm and shoulder.

Jon Woods gently unhooked Boggle and settled him on the stainless table with a practiced firmness the cat seemed to grudgingly respect. He rubbed Boggle’s ears and crooned to him, his voice a soothing murmur. Was he speaking some kind of secret animal language? Tilting her head, Lora listened closely but couldn’t make out a single word. Finally, keeping a good grip on his rebellious patient, Jon fixed Lora with a steady gaze. “Now, what seems to be wrong with Boggle?”

As far as Lora knew, there wasn’t a thing wrong with Boggle that a horse tranquilizer wouldn’t take care of. She wasn’t there because of the cat; he was simply her cover. For that matter, he wasn’t even her cat. She’d borrowed him from a neighbor. Rubbing what she imagined to be her blood-soaked shoulder, she glanced at the door and said, “I’ll just wait until Dr. Reed gets back.”

“You’ll have a long wait. He had surgery on his foot so he’ll be off for a few weeks.”

“He’s in the hospital?”

“Yes—”

“Good Samaritan?”

A quizzical look flashed across Jon’s face, settling in his willow-bark brown eyes. “Are you another of his devoted admirers? No, wait, didn’t I see on the chart that this is your first visit to the office?”

“I’ve never met Dr. Reed,” she said. “I wouldn’t know him from Adam.”

He regarded her with open curiosity, which she tried to ignore. Striving for a casual tone, she added, “So, how long do you think the doctor will be in the hospital?”

“A few days, then he’ll finish his recovery at home.”

A new plan hatched itself in Lora’s mind. She’d drop Boggle back at the neighbor’s, then go into the shop and make up a flower arrangement and deliver it to the hospital herself. Better double check which hospital, just in case. As a florist, she did this all the time so that was no problem. Congratulating herself on the flexibility of her scheme, she cautiously started to pick up Boggle.

Jon’s hand landed on hers. “I assure you I’m capable—”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to insinuate that you couldn’t fix Boggle.”

He looked even more confused. “I’m sorry, they should have told you up front that you need to make an appointment for that procedure.”

She liked the way his face reflected his emotions. She liked the way a lock of sun-bleached hair fell across his forehead. His hands, one of which still rested atop hers, were well formed, his touch extraordinarily light.

Lora worried her bottom lip. Was it possible this man was different from the rest? If he was a partner in this office didn’t that suggest a certain stability? Maybe she should give him a chance.…

No. No, no, no. “No,” she said, aloud.

His hand slid off of hers and along Boggle’s spine. Amazingly, the cat produced a tattered purr. Glancing at Lora, Jon said, “His temperament might improve if you did have him neutered, so you might want to consider it.”

She’d forgotten that in the veterinary world, “fixed” and “neutered” were virtually synonymous. “I just mean that Boggle is—”

Boggle is what?

Since her sole experience with keeping pets revolved around the care of a twenty-gallon aquarium, she realized she’d neglected to think up a suitable ailment for the cat. Hoping to sound like less of a ditz than she suddenly felt, she mumbled, “Grouchy. I think he needs a checkup. He hisses…a lot.”

“Is this new behavior for him?”

“Ah, no,” she said, thinking of the times Boggle darted spiteful looks at her from beneath her neighbor’s stairs. “No, he always seems ill-tempered.”

“How about his appetite?”

How about his appetite? “Seems normal,” she said.

“Any new members of the family to contend with?” he asked. “A husband, maybe? A new boyfriend?”

Was he flirting with her? She studied him but just couldn’t tell. Should she invent a jealous spouse to squash any romantic notions that might be floating around in his handsome head? She murmured, “No husband.”

“I see.”

Their eyes met again. Lora looked down at the cat.

Jon opened a cupboard and brought out a pressurized can of cheddar cheese spread. He distributed a thin line of it on the table top which Boggle immediately began licking. Next the vet produced a stethoscope. “Okay, well, let’s take a look at him,” he said.

Lora couldn’t help but admire the deft way Jon managed the examination. She wondered if Doctor Reed would have handled himself as competently. Surely he wouldn’t look as good doing it. Jon was definitely in his prime, one could say. Strong. Competent. Great hands. She wished she’d paid more attention to how he looked in his glasses—she’d bet he was just cute as a button. If she could bend her neck a little, she could check out his rear—

Stop it! Concentrate on Dr. Reed.

For penitence, she began mentally building a flower arrangement in her mind. It was spring and the town of Fern Glen sat right on the coast, so Siberian Iris and dune grasses came to mind. Maybe daffodils. She’d never met a man who didn’t like daffodils. At the hospital, she’d hide behind the arrangement just as she currently hid behind Boggle. She needed to find out four things: was Victor Reed likable? Did he have any obvious bad habits? Was he cute in an older guy kind of way? Was he available?

“Lora?”

Hearing her name snapped her out of her thoughts. “Huh?”

Jon looped the stethoscope casually around his neck. “I think Boggle is fine. Heart and lungs and stomach sound good, no other obvious problems. Of course, if you notice additional symptoms, bring him back in, but honestly, I think he’s just ornery by nature. And he’s already been neutered so I’m afraid that as far as personality goes, what you see is what you get.”

He was probably wondering how in the world she would not know that her own cat was already neutered. She said, “Thanks, Doctor.”

“Call me Jon.”

She didn’t want to call him Jon. She didn’t want to call him anything.

Okay, that wasn’t true. He was a tasty-looking dish, there was no denying that, but she’d recently bowed out of the dating game.

On the other hand, she didn’t want to leave a bad impression even if she would never see him again. It was a small community and who knew when he’d show up at the flower shop needing flowers for some new honey? A beautiful bronzed blonde, she’d bet. A woman with long eyelashes and a thrilling career that didn’t require she live from paycheck to paycheck. Sweeping aside wayward strands of wavy dark hair, Lora added, “Did I mention that I haven’t had Boggle very long?”

“That explains a lot,” he said as though relieved to discover she might not be a nitwit after all. He unfolded his glasses and put them on again, and sure enough, he looked fine. Reaching for the folder, he flipped it open and scanned the page. “It appears you forgot to give us your phone number,” he said, glancing up.

“Why do you need my phone number?”

“It’s office policy,” he said, grabbing a pencil from the counter.

She mumbled out a bogus phone number and repeated her thanks. Clutching the angry cat and her checkbook, she hurried out of the small examination room only to be met by an assistant wearing a purple smock printed with frolicking dogs. The assistant told Lora to wait as she ducked into the room Lora had just vacated.

Lora more or less wedged an increasingly distressed Boggle between herself and a wall and wished she’d thought to bring a box. She tried stroking the cat’s ears and crooning softly to calm him, just as she’d seen Jon do. For a moment, staring into eyes as green as her own, she thought she and the cat connected in some primal way, then he opened his mouth so wide she could see down his surprisingly pink gullet and emitted a hiss that made the hairs on the back of Lora’s neck stand up.

“Bad kitty!” she scolded. With an annoyed glance at the examination room door, she wondered what was taking so long.

The assistant finally reappeared. “The doctor says there’ll be no charge today.”

Stunned by Jon Woods’s generosity, she momentarily thought of tumbling to his charm, then she sucked it up and beat a hasty retreat. Once inside the van, Boggle crouched under the passenger seat and howled.

“No wonder I prefer tropical fish,” Lora grumbled over the din.

Jon found himself looking out the window, angling for a glimpse of his last patient’s owner.

All he saw was a big blue van pulling out of the parking lot. He resettled the blinds and picked up the folder beneath Lora’s.

He’d been in Fern Glen, a quaint town on the Northern California coast, for a little over a month and face it, he’d been growing increasingly bored. There were just so many times a man could walk along a windswept beach—alone. Only so many times he could admire towering trees or chat with strangers. He missed Los Angeles, Trina, his own life, and not necessarily in that order.

He couldn’t deny, however, that Lora Gifford had piqued his interest. She was just so…well, so real. He’d be willing to bet there wasn’t a phony hair on her head, and speaking of hair, that ebony fall of glistening strands was unbelievable.

Lora. Her name was Lora and she seemed a little skittish, as though she’d been wounded in the past. He felt a protective surge in his chest and smiled at his own folly. His ability to empathize with creatures was a bonus in his career; he just had to guard the tendency to let it guide his reactions to people. Especially female people.

He put Lora Gifford out of his mind as he got ready for his next patient, a black Labrador puppy with the sniffles.

Five years before Lora was born her parents had purchased a small piece of real estate in the heart of Fern Glen. Her mother dreamed of opening a fabric store. Her father yearned to start a bait and tackle shop. They settled on a florist because at the time, Fern Glen didn’t have one.

Compromise. That was the name of the game for her parents, but it hadn’t come without taking a toll on their relationship. For all intents and purposes, Lora had grown up in a petal-lined war zone. In the off season, while her father fished and her mother made quilts for extra money, Lora had escaped into after-school work with a local lily grower, her mentor a disabled old man with a wealth of experience he was anxious to share. For her, his warm glass-sided buildings had become a sanctuary.

Four years before, Lora had received a modest inheritance from a favorite uncle and shocked everyone by using it to buy herself a house. Her parents had been surprised by her choice—the house was small and ungainly. What Lora didn’t explain was that she’d really bought the house because of the greenhouse out in back.

Two years later, her father decided thirty years of married life was enough, hooked up his boat and drove away. Her mother kept the shop. Lora, who discovered how limited the financial resources really were when she took over the books, invited her mother to move in with her for a few months. The months had turned into a year.

And then Lora’s long-widowed grandmother had shown up on Lora’s doorstep with three suitcases and five cardboard boxes, everything else she owned tucked safely in storage. She was lonely. How could Lora turn away her own grandmother? At least Grandma was willing to share a room with Lora’s mom. So now three generations resided in Lora’s little cottage and Lora was one breath away from going nuts.

It was Calvin’s fault. The rat had left her, and in leaving her, he’d opened the door for her relatives to come charging through, a single goal firing their passion: find Lora a husband! It didn’t matter how many times Lora told them she wasn’t interested—they simply didn’t believe her.

She’d been so sure that Calvin was “The One.” They were the same age, he loved the outdoors as she did, he had family in Fern Glen. Perfect. Then he’d accepted a job in Chicago without even telling Lora he’d applied. All she had to do was pack a bag. He, it seemed, had a plan.

Only, she had plans of her own.

Take it or leave it, he’d said.

At that point she’d decided there was one thing of which she was certain: she was not going to follow her parents’ example and spend her life compromising.

Now, thanks to the meddling of her loving relatives, a seemingly endless procession of quasi eligible men had recently shown up for dinner or come into the shop to buy flowers. Things were getting out of hand.

Out of desperation, Lora had given the matter some deep thought. Loneliness was the culprit, she decided, for both her mom and Gram, so she’d attack from that angle. With luck, she’d shift their attention away from her love life and on to their own.

After Lora dropped Boggle off, she entered the flower shop through the delivery door in the back. She tiptoed around, relieved to find her mother and grandmother busy with customers out front.

For a second, she thought about Jon Woods and his ploy to get her phone number, and she felt a smile threaten to emerge. She wiped the smile away with a firm wave of resolve. Sure he was interesting and as sexy as all get out. It wasn’t that she was blind to his attributes, she reminded herself, she was just on the mend. It wasn’t wise to flit from relationship to relationship like some dazed bumble bee.

But Jon is local, an animal doctor, a man with roots like your own, her subconscious needled. Maybe you should let down your guard a little and get to know him.…

No. Concentrate on Mom and Gram. There’ll be time to investigate Jon Woods in the months to come.

She checked the fax machine to see how behind they were. Not bad. After making a couple of calls to confirm which hospital Dr. Reed was at she quickly put together a suitable arrangement and made it out the door again without being detected.

At the nurses’ station, she discovered Dr. Reed’s surgery had been two days before, which was terrific news. Surely he’d be well on the way to recovery by now and perhaps a little lonely. Lonely people liked to chat, even to florists. She told the busy nurses she’d deliver the flowers herself. A few moments later, she got her first glimpse of her prospective stepfather.

Dr. Reed, lying in his bed, glanced up from a book the moment Lora came through the door. The first thing she noticed about him were the color of his eyes, a perfect match for grape hyacinths. A neatly trimmed beard and a full head of sterling silver hair accompanied the eyes—the man looked like the captain of a cruise ship!

“More flowers?” he said.

There were no other flowers in the room. “You bet. Where would you like them?”

“Who are they from?”

She’d thought of that. Picking out the card she read, “Says here they’re from your friends at the Animal Clinic.” She handed him the card and he studied it for a moment.

“Those guys really went overboard. I told my sister to take the other bouquets because I’m getting out this afternoon. Just put those by the window.”

No aging girlfriend to schlep his flowers? Good.

“I’d be happy to deliver them to your house,” she said, still holding the flowers and excited about the prospect of seeing how and where he lived.

“I couldn’t ask—”

“I insist,” she said. “So, you’re going home. Are you thrilled?”

His eyes twinkled. “You bet.”

“It’ll be good to sit down in your own house with a fat cigar and a stiff drink, right?” Was that too obvious a prying question?

Apparently not. “Never have smoked though I do enjoy the occasional glass of red wine,” he said, settling comfortably against his pillows. “They say it keeps you young.”

“Looks as though it’s working,” she said with a grin.

He laughed. He had a nice laugh. “Now, what’s a pretty girl like you doing flirting with an old goat like me?”

She laughed, too. She liked this guy. Hope began to flutter in her chest, and it wasn’t just selfish hope anymore. Her mother deserved happiness, deserved to be with someone ten years older and wiser than she.

Lora said, “Do you live with your sister?”

“Oh, no,” he said amiably. “Jess is married and has her own home. No, since my wife died and our two sons moved to the east coast, I live alone.”

Lora gestured at his bandaged foot, which lay outside the covers. “How are you going to handle getting around by yourself?”

“Crutches.”

“They can be difficult to get the hang of.”

“Well, Jess will come by during the day and I’ll be okay at night.”

Genuinely concerned, she wrinkled her brow. “You’ll be all alone? What if there’s a fire? How will you manage by yourself? You should hire someone to stay with you. It’s dangerous to be alone.”

“Sounds as if you’re in cahoots with my doctor and my sister, young lady.”

“My name is Lora Gifford,” she said, shifting the arrangement to her left arm and offering her right hand. She’d taken an immediate liking to this man and had big plans for his future that required him getting back on his feet ASAP. Her mother loved to dance.

He shook her hand. “Well, Lora, it’s really no big deal. I don’t mind being by myself.”

No one to stay the night meant no girlfriend, right?

Let’s see, she’d covered obvious bad habits, availability, appearance and charm. Was there anything else?

He looked from her to the card that had come with the flowers and back again. “Lora Gifford? Are you George Gifford’s daughter?”

“You know my dad?”

“I used to fish with him years ago, back when my boys were just kids. He owned the Lora Dunes flower shop which I just realized he must have named after you.”

“Me and the beach.”

“I’ll be. I remember seeing you with your mother a couple of times. You were four or five years old. Your mother was a beauty. Jet black hair, emerald eyes…you look just like her.”

“She’s still beautiful,” Lora said fondly, wishing she did look like her mother, knowing she’d inherited her grandmother’s demure stature and her father’s nose. “She and dad are divorced now, but Mom’s doing great.”

“Well, I’ll be,” he mused, his eyes thoughtful. “Where is your dad?”

“Down in San Diego, fishing his heart out.”

“I’m sorry about him and your mother.”

Lora said, “It’s okay. They’re both happier now.”

“And how about you? Married? Kids?”

“No, neither.”

“I didn’t think so, but so many young women keep their maiden name now and don’t wear rings, you just never know.”

While Dr. Reed seemed to study Lora, she chewed on her lip. Was it really possible this man was as decent as he seemed to be? Appearances could be so deceiving, and first impressions were worthless in the long haul. Besides, it wasn’t as though she had a good track record with men, young or old or in-between. No way was she going to jeopardize her mother’s out-of-practice heart on a guy whose pleasant manners hid the soul of a cad. She needed more information.…

She said, “Dr. Reed, I have an idea. Sometimes I hire out for odd jobs. You know, to make ends meet. I could come to your house after work. At least there’d be someone there at night in case a fire started or…something.”

He looked quite startled by the abruptness of her offer. He wasn’t the only startled one. What had she just done? She thought of her mother, she thought of Gram, truth be known, she thought of their next batch of erstwhile bachelors.

“I really am quite capable,” she said firmly.

“I don’t doubt it for a moment,” he said.

“And I’m neat as a pin.”

A smile curved his lips. Lora could sense him considering her suggestion.

“I go to bed early,” Dr. Reed said. “It would be boring for you.”

“Mom says only boring people get bored,” she said, hoping to impress him with her mother’s pithy insights. “I can provide references—”

“Not necessary,” he said with a wave of his hand.

“What’s not necessary?” a voice said from the doorway.

Lora recognized the voice and turned in time to find Jon Woods striding across the linoleum. He blinked rapidly when he saw her face.

He wasn’t the only one blinking. Out of his office, with a tailored jacket thrown over his form-fitting black shirt and no stethoscope looped around his neck, he looked suave, sophisticated and harder than ever to resist.

Why had she bunched her hair into a ponytail before coming to the hospital? Why hadn’t she taken off the lousy green sweater and replaced it with—anything else!

This yin and yang of her current position concerning men was disconcerting. Wanting and rejecting. Thinking maybe and then slamming the door.

Staring into her eyes, he said, “This is a coincidence, isn’t it? I didn’t expect to see you here.”

His gaze made her damn near breathless but his arrival embarrassed the heck out of her. She’d not expected to see him again either, especially in the hospital room of a man she’d admitted she’d never met. She glanced at her watch and saw that it was the lunch hour—great planning on her part. This could get dicey. “I’m delivering flowers,” she said.

“You two know each other?” Dr. Reed asked pleasantly.

Jon released Lora from his gaze. “We met today when she brought her cat in for a checkup. She was disappointed when I showed up instead of you, Victor.”

Jon’s remark was met with a wince from Lora and raised eyebrows from Dr. Reed who said, “I don’t believe you’ve ever been to the clinic before, have you Lora? Don’t tell me my memory is that bad.”

Hadn’t her mother told her to never lie? She’d used a lifetime’s quota that day and now she was going to pay for it. Or maybe not. Looking at Dr. Reed, she said, “I heard all about you from my friend, Peg Ho. You’re Cerise’s vet.” This was the truth and Lora felt suitably virtuous.

Dr. Reed chuckled. “Peg’s Irish Setter is a dynamo.”

Jon said, “If you enjoy animals with personalities, wait until you meet Lora’s cat.”

“Boggle tends to be a little antisocial,” Lora said and added, “In fact, I’m thinking of letting my neighbor have him. She adores cats.” Anxious to get the topic of conversation off of her pretend pet, she said, “I’m glad we ran into each other, Dr. Woods. I wanted to thank you for not charging me to examine Boggle.”

“I asked you to call me Jon.”

“Jon.” Lora felt a sigh build in her throat and squelched it, but sometimes her new lifestyle choice was hard, and never more so than now. It didn’t take even a good imagination—and hers was excellent—to picture herself wrapped in his powerful arms, held against his rock-hard chest, stroked with his gentle hands…

“Beautiful flowers,” Jon said, admiring the arrangement.

“Lora’s a florist,” Dr. Reed said, his gaze traveling from Jon to Lora.

Jon smiled at her in such a way that her knees felt a little weak. She’d always been a sucker for a good smiler.

“Your work is original,” he said.

“Thanks.” She needed to get out of this room for more than one reason!

Jon looked over her head. “Victor, is there anything I can bring you this evening when I come back to visit? Magazines? A portable radio? Illicit milkshakes?”

“I’ll be long gone by this evening,” Dr. Reed said. “Jess and her husband are picking me up this afternoon.”

“That’s great news.”

Lora saw her chance. “I’ll leave you guys alone now,” she said, and started to shuffle off. She and Dr. Reed hadn’t firmed up anything concerning her wily plan to nurse him back on his feet and into her mother’s heart; no doubt Jon’s arrival had nixed the whole idea.

Jon gestured at her arms. “Aren’t you going to leave the flowers?”

“Lora is bringing them to the house tonight,” Dr. Reed said. “Not that these aren’t appreciated, Jon, but really, you guys down at the clinic shouldn’t have sent me any more flowers.”

Jon’s brow creased. “I don’t think we did,” he said.

“’Course you did,” Dr. Reed said, handing Jon the card. “It says so right here.”

Jon read the card.

“Maybe one of the assistants arranged it,” Lora mumbled. She was going straight to hell for all these lies!

“Those girls are always going overboard,” Dr. Reed said fondly.

Jon still looked skeptical.

“Fact is, this little lady is going to be my nighttime nurse for the next couple of weeks,” Dr. Reed added with a wink at Lora, who grinned with pleasure.

Jon looked up from the card. “I thought you refused to have strangers in the house at night.”

“Well, Lora isn’t a stranger. I knew her father once upon a time.”

“You knew her father?” His eyebrows inched up his forehead again as Lora tried to recall their earlier conversation at the clinic. No use; it was a blur. Jon said, “Victor, I would have been happy to help you out. You did so much for my dad.”

“And now you’re covering for me at the clinic. The debt is more than paid. Besides, you don’t have time to play nursemaid and Lora is prettier than you are.”

Both men stared at Lora who felt a red tide wash up her neck. “I can’t argue that point,” Jon said at last.

“And she’ll let me pay her for her time, won’t you, Lora?”

“Of course,” she said breezily, thinking of a timing belt for the van.

“And now that I know Lora has a cat at home, I feel even better about my decision.” Dr. Reed turned to Lora and added, “I’m glad you came in here and talked me into taking your help. You’re very persuasive.”

Lora smiled wanly as a sudden cold front engulfed Jon’s inherent warmth. She could imagine what he was thinking. Why would she insist on staying with a man she’d never met before, one she’d quizzed him about just hours before? Finally, after an eternity or two, he said, “You talked him into it?”

“She all but insisted, didn’t you, Lora?”

Jon’s wary gaze make her feel like confessing her plot. It’s like this, she could say. Mom is lonely, I’ll find someone for Gram later, I want my privacy back, Dr. Reed seems like a great guy and what better way to find out if he really is as nice as he seems than to hang around his house for a couple of weeks?

Like that would make things better!

Jon’s back was to Dr. Reed and he didn’t bother to look cordial when she murmured goodbye. At the last minute he said, “I’m sure we’ll meet again.”

Not if she could help it!