How to Marry a Doctor (Celebrations, Inc.)

by Nancy Robards Thompson

  “I leave my socks on the floor,” he said as he transferred the omelet from the frying pan onto the two plates Anna had set out.

  “Yeah, and it wouldn’t take that much more effort to put them in the laundry hamper,” she said. “Do you want orange juice? I need orange juice with my eggs.”

  “Sorry, I’m out. I have coffee and there’s more beer. I need to go to the grocery store. I really should go tonight because I’m not going to have time to go later with everything going on this weekend.”

  She passed on the beer. Not her favorite thing to drink with eggs. Even if it was dinner. It was one of those combos that just didn’t sound appetizing. She opted for making herself a quick cup of coffee in his single-serving coffee brewer. As she pushed the button selecting the serving size, it dawned on her that even if they had been apart for a long time, she still felt at home with Jake. She could raid his K-Cups and brew herself a cup without asking. Even in the short amount of time that she’d spent here, she knew which cabinet contained the coffee, and that he stored his dinner plates in the lower cabinet to the right of the sink because they stacked better there.

  “I need some groceries, too,” she said. “How about if we shop together after we do the dishes? We can talk as we shop and figure out where the happy medium is between the nice women you should be dating and the ones who leave their underwear all over town.”

  Jake’s brows knit together as he set the dinner plates on the table.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” Anna said as she slid into her seat at the table. “You know I’m right. If you keep doing what you’re doing, you’ll keep getting what you’re getting and you’ll keep repeating the same pattern. You need to look a little deeper than a pretty face.”

  He sat down, speared some of the omelet and took a bite, watching her as he chewed. She wished he’d say something. Not with food in his mouth, of course. But that was the thing about Jake—he may be a manly guy’s guy who didn’t know how to pick up after himself, but he still had manners. He didn’t talk with his mouth full, he said please and thank-you; Jake Lennox was a gentleman.

  He knew how to treat a lady. He just didn’t know how to choose the right lady.

  “So what are the deal breakers, Jake?”

  “Deal breakers?”

  “You know, the qualities in a woman that you can’t live with.”

  “Why don’t we focus on the good? The attributes that I’m attracted to?”

  “Because attraction is what gets you in trouble. Attraction is what caused Miss Texas to leave her thong on your living room floor.”

  Ugh. She sounded like such a harpy. She knew that even before she saw the look on his face and consciously softened her tone.

  “I don’t mean to be a nag. Really, I don’t. It’s just that sometimes it helps if you work backward.”

  She wasn’t going to pressure him. That was the fastest way to suck all the fun out of the bet. This was supposed to be fun, not an exercise in browbeating.

  She was prepared to change the subject when he said, “Anyone I date has to be comfortable with the fact that I don’t want to get married and I don’t want kids. I don’t want anyone who thinks they can change my mind. That’s a deal breaker. It’s what started things going south with Dorenda. She was Miss Independent for the first couple of months. Then she started in with the five-year plan, which eventually turned into an ultimatum.”

  Anna realized it was the first time she’d ever been on Dorenda’s side. Who could blame her for wanting more? Especially when it involved more Jake. But she wasn’t going to argue with him. This anti-marriage/anti-family stance was new. Or at least something that had developed during the time that they were apart. Probably the reason he’d been involved in his string of relationships. Jake had grown up in a single-parent household. His mom had left the family when Jake was in first grade.

  One night before they left for college, when she and Jake were having one of their famous heart-to-hearts, he’d opened up about how hard it had been on him and his brothers when their mom left the family.

  Yet he’d never mentioned that he didn’t want to get married.

  Actually, though, when she thought about it, it was a good thing he was being so up front about everything. That’s just how Jake was. He knew himself, and he was true to himself. Maybe if Hal had been more honest with both of them, they might have avoided a world of hurt.

  So yeah, considering that, Jake’s candid admission was a good thing.

  Now, her mind and its deductive reasoning just had to convince her heart that was true, because she hated the thought of Jake ending up alone years down the road.

  * * *

  “So you want someone who is family-oriented, funny, kind, honest and smart,” Jake recapped as he pushed the shopping cart down the canned goods aisle in the grocery store. “You don’t want to date a doctor, because of Hal. So what about looks? What’s your type?”

  Anna stopped to survey a row of black beans lined up like soldiers on a shelf.

  “I thought we agreed that we weren’t going to concentrate on the physical. That’s where we get into trouble. We need to get past that.”

  “What? Should I disqualify a guy if he is good-looking?”

  She quirked a brow at him as she set two cans in the otherwise empty cart. “I’d love to hear your idea of a good-looking guy.”

  He scowled back at her. “I don’t know. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, as they say. I have no idea what makes a guy attractive to a woman.”

  “I was just teasing, Jake. You know you’re my ideal. If I can’t have you, then...”

  She made a tsking sound and squeezed his arm as she walked farther down the aisle to get something else on her list.

  If he didn’t know her so well, he might’ve thought her harmless flirtation had started a ripple of something inside him. But that was utterly ridiculous. This was Anna, and that’s why he couldn’t put his finger on the something she’d stirred. Maybe it was pride, or actually, more like gratitude that pulled at him. He looked at her in her scrubs that were a little too big for her slight frame. Her purse, which she’d slung across her body, proved that there were curves hidden away under all that pink fabric.

  He averted his gaze, because this was Anna. Dammit, he shouldn’t be looking at her as if she was something he’d ask the butcher to put on a foam tray and wrap up in cellophane. As the thought occurred to him, he realized his gaze had meandered back to where it had no business straying.

  He turned his body away from her and toward the shelf of black beans Anna had just pored over. He didn’t know what the hell to do with canned black beans, but he took a couple of cans and added them to the cart as he warred with the very real realization that he didn’t want to fix her up with just anyone. Certainly not most of his buddies, who if they talked about Anna the way they talked about other women he’d have no choice but to deck.

  “Excuse me.” Jake looked over to see a small, silver-haired woman holding out a piece of paper. “Your wife dropped this list.” The woman hooked her thumb in Anna’s direction at the other end of the aisle. “I’d go give it to her myself, but I’m going this way.”

  My wife?

  Jake smiled at the woman and started to correct her, to explain that he and Anna weren’t married, but the words seemed to stick in his throat. He found himself reaching out and accepting the paper—a grocery list—and saying, “Thanks, I’ll give it to her.”

  She nodded and was on her way before Jake could say anything else.

  Hmm. My wife.

  He tried to see what the woman saw—Anna and him together...as a couple. But in similar fashion to not being able to look at her curves in good conscience, he couldn’t fully let his mind go there.

  It wasn’t that the thought disgusted him—or anything negative like that. On the contrary. And that brought a whole host of other weirdness with it. The only way around it was to laugh it off.

  “You dropped your list,” he s
aid as he stopped the cart next to her. “The nice lady who found it thought you were my wife.”

  Anna shot him a dubious look. “Oh, yeah? Did you set her straight?”

  She deposited more canned goods into the basket and then took the list from his hand.

  “No. I didn’t. I need bread. Which aisle is the bread in?”

  She let the issue drop. He almost wished she would’ve said something snide like, That’s awkward. Or, Me? Married to you? Never in a million years. Instead, she changed the subject. “Do you want bakery bread or prepackaged? And why don’t you know where the bread is?”

  He certainly didn’t dwell on it.

  “I don’t know. I guess I don’t retain that kind of information. Grocery shopping isn’t my favorite sport.”

  “I can tell,” she said. “And if you don’t pick up the pace, you’re going to get a penalty for delay of game. I’m almost finished. Where’s your list? Let me see if I can help move this along.”

  “I don’t have a list,” he said. He knew he should make an off-the-cuff comment about her, his pretend wife, being the keeper of the list for both of them, but it didn’t feel right.

  Since when had anything ever not felt right with Anna?

  “I keep the list in my head,” he added.

  “And of course, you’re out of everything. Here, I can help. We’ll just grab things for you as we go by them.”

  She pulled the shopping cart from the front end and turned the corner into the next aisle.

  “Do you want cereal?” she asked.

  Before he could answer, a couple a few feet away from them broke out into an argument that silenced both Anna and him.

  “Look, I’m an adult,” said the guy. “If I want to eat sugary cereal for breakfast, I will. In fact, if I want to eat a bowl of pure sugar, I will. You get what you like and I’ll get what I want.”

  “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, honey.” The woman took a cereal box—the bright yellow kind with fake berries—out of the shopping cart and put it back on the shelf. “This won’t hold you. You need something with fiber and protein. If you eat this, you’ll be raiding the vending machine by ten o’clock.”

  The guy took the cereal box off the shelf and put it back in the cart. “I grew up eating this stuff. You’re my wife, not the food police. So hop off.”

  Anna and Jake quickened their pace as they passed the couple. They exchanged a look, which the couple obviously didn’t notice because now insults were inching their way into the exchange and tones were getting heated.

  “We’ll come back for cereal,” Anna said.

  Jake nodded. “When we do, are you going to mock my cereal choice?”

  “Why would I do that? I’m not your wife.”

  There. Good. She said it. The dreaded w word.

  “Are you saying it’s a wife’s role to mock her husband’s cereal choice?”

  “Of course not. I never told Hal what he could and couldn’t eat. Then again, since I was the one who cooked in that relationship, he didn’t have much say. But he was completely on his own for breakfast and lunch, free to make his own choices. And you see where that got me. Do you think we would’ve lasted if I had been more concerned?”

  “No. Hal was an ass. He didn’t deserve your picking out healthy cereal for him.”

  “So you’re saying the woman picking out the cereal rather than leaving him to his own devices was a good thing?”

  “Well, yeah. For the record, in the couple we saw back there, the wife was right. He may have wanted that crap, but he didn’t need it. So I’ll side with her. Do you want me to go back over there and tell her I’m on her side?”

  “Better not. Not if you want to keep all your teeth.”

  Jake laughed but it sounded bitter—even to his own ears. “Why does that have to happen in relationships? People get married and end up hating each other over the most ridiculous things. They fight and tear each other apart and someone leaves. That marriage is in trouble over Much-n-Crunch and its artificially flavored berries. That’s exactly why I don’t want marriage.”

  “So you’re saying that the guy should’ve gotten the cereal he wanted?”

  “No. I already said I thought the wife was right. Junk like that will kill you. I agree with her. Healthy eating habits are good.”

  As they strolled past the dairy section, Anna studied him for a minute. “I’ve just figured out who I’m fixing you up with on your first date. She’s a nutritionist. I think the two of you will have a lot in common. I can’t believe I didn’t think of her until now.”

  Her response caught him off guard.

  “What is she like?” he asked.

  Anna raised her brows. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

  “Okay. Two can play that game,” he said. “You’ll have to be surprised on your first date, too.”

  She grimaced. “Go easy on me, Jake. I’m so out of practice. You know how I am. I’m casual. I haven’t been out there in so long.”

  “That’s why you need me to fix you up.”

  He had no idea who he was going to pick for her first date. Who would be worthy of her? Maybe the best place for him to start would be to rule out anyone who was remotely similar to himself. Because Anna deserved so much better.

  Chapter Three

  “Try this one.” Anna’s sister, Emily, shoved a royal blue sundress with a white Indian motif on the front through the opening in the fitting room curtain in the Three Sisters dress shop in downtown Celebration. “It looks like the basis of a good first-date outfit.”

  Anna still wasn’t sure who her date was or where they were going, but one thing she did know was they were getting together on Wednesday and she had nothing to wear. It had been so long since she’d worn anything but jeans or hospital scrubs, she didn’t have a stitch appropriate for a...date. Plus, she had a busy week ahead and this was Emily’s night off. So Anna figured she might as well seize the moment and bring her sister along to help her pick out something nice. If she felt good with what she was wearing, she might feel less nervous on the date, thereby eliminating one potential avenue of stress...or disaster.

  She held up the dress her sister had chosen and looked at herself in the mirror. The white pattern running up the front of the dress had a design that might’ve made a nice henna tattoo. It was a little wild for her taste.

  “I don’t know, Em, this one looks a little low cut.”

  “Try it on. You never can tell when it’s on the hanger.”

  Wasn’t that the truth? The same rule could apply to men, too. You had to try them on—well, not literally, of course. She couldn’t fathom getting intimate with a man. Even if it was a man Jake had picked out for her. Not that she was contemplating life as a born-again virgin. It was just too much to contemplate right now. First, she’d meet the guy or guys—Jake did have until the wedding—and see how she got along with him or them. Then she’d think about...more.

  The thought made her shudder a little.

  She slipped out of the dress she’d just tried on and hung it up—it was a prim flowery number in primary colors. It was too dowdy—too matronly—too...something. Anna couldn’t put her finger on it. Whatever it was, it just didn’t feel right.

  “Who did you fix Jake up with?” Emily asked from the other side of the fitting room curtain.

  “Her name is Cheryl Woodly. She’s a freelance nutritionist who works with new mothers. I met her at the hospital.”

  “Oh, yeah? What’s she like?”

  Anna slipped the dress over her head.

  “Nice. Smart. Pretty.”

  “How is she different from Jake’s past girlfriends?”

  “Did you not hear me say she’s nice and smart? Miss Texas possessed neither of those qualities.”

  “Me-ow,” said Emily.

  “I’m only speaking the truth.”

  “When are they going out?”

  “Friday.”

  Anna stared at herself in the mirr
or, tugged up on the plunging halter neckline, trying to give the girls a little more coverage. She wasn’t so sure she wanted to put everything on display on a first date. The dress was great, but it was decidedly not her.

  “Anna? Did you try on the one I just gave you?”

  “Yeah, but—I don’t know.”

  “Come out. Let’s see it.”

  “Nah. Too much cleavage. Too little dress.”

  Anna hesitated, turning around to check out the back view. She had to admit it was a snappy little number and it looked great from behind. But the front drew way too much focus to the cleavage and that made her squirm.

  “Let me see.” Before Anna could protest, Emily’s face poked through the split in the curtain.

  Anna’s had flew up to her chest.

  “It looks great,” Emily said. “The color is out of this world on you. It brings out your eyes. And move your hand.”

  Emily swatted away her sister’s hand from its protective station.

  “I don’t know what you’re afraid of. It accentuates your tiny waist and you’re barely showing any cleavage at all. It’s just-right sexy. A far cry from those scrubs you hide in every day.”

  “My scrubs are for work. They’re my uniform.” Anna turned back to the mirror and put her hands on her hips. She turned to left and then to the right. “You’re just jealous that you don’t ever get to dress so comfortably at work.”

  By day, Emily worked in a bank in Dallas and wore suits to work. Because she was saving for a house, two or three times a week she worked as a hostess at Bistro St. Germaine, where she had to dress in sleek, sophisticated black to fit in with the timeless elegance of the downtown Celebration restaurant. Emily had great taste in clothes. Anna would’ve asked if she could borrow something from her younger sister—and Emily would’ve graciously dressed her—but it was time for Anna to add a couple of new pieces to her own wardrobe.

  “Scrubs are like wearing jammies to work every day,” Emily said.

  “You know you would if you could,” Anna said.

  Emily rolled her eyes. “I think you should buy that dress. If not for a date, for you.”