03_The Doctor's Perfect Match

by Irene Hannon

  “It’s not okay.” He touched her face, his fingers gently stroking her cheek, and heard her soft intake of breath. “And for the record, I like you for a lot of reasons that go way beyond skin deep.”

  At his comment, he felt a slight tremor run through her. “Thank you. And thank you for stepping in tonight. No one’s ever done that before.”

  “Maybe that’s because you come across as such a strong person. And I mean that as a compliment. I’m sure you were perfectly capable of handling that jerk tonight.”

  Her green irises had grown soft during their exchange, but now they hardened. “I was. A drink in the face usually does the trick.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “An effective technique, I imagine.”

  She gripped her black clutch purse. “Yeah. But it tends to draw attention. I prefer not to make a scene unless it’s absolutely necessary.” She took a deep breath and leaned sideways to glance toward the entrance. “Are your parents here?”

  He checked over his shoulder. “Not yet. Dad got a call from the office that delayed him. They should be along any minute.”

  “I think I’ll visit the ladies’ room, then.”

  “You want me to walk with you?”

  A mirthless smile touched her lips. “I appreciate the offer. But I can take care of myself.”

  Without waiting for a reply, she walked away, passing the lounge area without sparing it a glance.

  As she disappeared, Christopher headed toward the foyer to wait for his parents, mulling over her parting comment. He didn’t doubt the truth of it. She did know how to take care of herself.

  But that didn’t stop him from wanting to do it for her.

  It had been more than two years since he’d felt the kind of strong protective instinct that had overtaken him tonight. Since he’d let himself feel it. After Denise, those kinds of feelings had scared him.

  Now they made him feel good.

  And that reinforced his decision to push Marci to take the director job—for reasons that had nothing to do with her professional qualifications.

  Marci pulled her comb out of her purse and ran it through her hair, willing her churning stomach to settle down. Unless she calmed down, she wouldn’t be able to eat a bite of dinner.

  Meeting Christopher’s parents was nerve-wracking enough. She hadn’t needed that little interlude in the bar.

  Nor had she needed his admission about his feelings toward her.

  That had only reminded her of the pressing need to share her past with him before things got even more serious.

  That line of thought however, was not going to calm her.

  Think about Henry’s homecoming, she ordered herself. And take some slow, deep breaths.

  After a few minutes, when she felt less stressed, she exited the ladies’ room and worked her way back to the entrance.

  She spotted Christopher before he saw her. In his beige slacks, navy blue sport coat and open-necked white shirt, he looked very preppy. And very handsome.

  But it was the two people with him who drew her attention.

  A slender woman with reddish-brown hair swept back into a chic chignon stood beside a gray-haired man who fell an inch or two shy of Christopher’s height. He, too, wore a sport coat—wheat-colored—with dark slacks and a blue shirt.

  As she drew close, Marci saw the family resemblance at once. Christopher had his father’s lean build and broad shoulders. From his mother he’d inherited his blue eyes and strong cheekbones.

  All at once the older woman turned toward her. Smiling, she touched Christopher’s arm.

  If his mother’s smile had been warm, Christopher’s melted her heart. As if sensing her trepidation, he came toward her and took her hand in a firm clasp, weaving his fingers with hers. Giving her a reassuring squeeze, he drew her into the circle of his family and made the introductions.

  Marci shook hands with Christopher’s father and found herself pulled into a hug with his mother.

  “Call us Brad and Carol,” the older woman told her. “We’re a very low-key, informal bunch.”

  That might be true, but the understated elegance of her attire reeked of class—and money. Marci couldn’t afford expensive outfits herself, but she could spot quality. In people and clothes.

  And Christopher’s parents had it in spades.

  As she and Christopher followed his parents to their table, she smoothed down the skirt of her dress. It was the same black number she’d worn to J.C.’s wedding, bought on sale at Target, and somewhat the worse for wear after her trek through the rain that night.

  No way could the polyester frock compare to Carol’s silk shantung sheath, which matched the hue of the blue hydrangeas beginning to bloom outside the window. And now that she’d seen Carol’s discreet but stunning gold and diamond pendant, she wished she’d left her cheap costume pearls at the cottage.

  They were shown to a linen-covered table by the window that offered a panoramic view of the sea. As Marci took her seat and opened the menu the waiter handed her, she stifled a gasp. A person could eat at Ronnie’s for a month on what this dinner for four was going to cost!

  “Does that sound good, Marci?”

  At Christopher’s question, she turned to him. “I’m sorry, I was distracted for a minute.”

  “I’m having that problem myself.” He winked at her, and her heart skipped a beat. “Do you like crab?”

  “Sure.” Not that she’d ever eaten much of it. It wasn’t a menu staple at Ronnie’s.

  “How about some crab cakes to start?”

  “Okay.

  “Christopher tells us you’ve just gotten your master’s in social work, Marci. Congratulations,” Carol said.

  “Thank you.”

  “And you came to Nantucket for your brother’s wedding?”

  “Yes.”

  “What brought him here?”

  “He was a detective in Chicago and took a leave of absence.” Marci closed the menu and set it aside. “A friend of his is the police chief here, so he took what was supposed to be a temporary job as a summer officer. He ended up meeting his future wife, and the rest is history.”

  “It’s odd how you can meet the right person in the most unexpected places, isn’t it?” She cast an amused glance at her son.

  Squirming in her seat, Marci diverted the conversation with a question of her own. “How did you two meet?”

  Carol smiled at Brad and took his hand. “Shall I tell the story, or do you want to?”

  “You do a much better job of it,” Brad deferred.

  “All right. We were both students at Harvard. Brad was in the law school, and I was in government with my sights set on a diplomatic career in some exotic location. Our paths never crossed on campus, but one summer I did an internship in Paris. Brad happened to be doing a typical student tour of the continent with some of his buddies, and we ran into each other under the Eiffel Tower, of all places. We started chatting, and realized we were both from Harvard. As you said about your brother, the rest is history.”

  “Mom and Dad just got back from Paris,” Christopher offered as he helped himself to a roll. “They celebrated their fortieth anniversary with dinner in the Eiffel Tower.”

  “And she looked as beautiful as the day I met her,” Brad added.

  The waiter delivered the appetizers, saving Marci from having to reply. That was providential, since she had no idea how to respond. There was no such thing as a student tour of Europe in her world. Nor had there been trips to Paris. Or a Harvard education.

  “Did Mark call you today?” Carol asked Christopher when the waiter departed.

  “Yes. The whole crew was on the phone with their usual off-key rendition of ‘Happy Birthday.’ And Eric—” Christopher turned to Marci “—he’s my seven-year-old nephew—wanted to tell me all about the trip to Bermuda.”

  Marci stared at him. “Is today your birthday?”

  “Yes. But I’m trying to ignore them these days.” He grinned at her.

&nb
sp; “You’re too young to use that line,” his father admonished. “Wait till you’re our age. We’ve heard all about Bermuda, too. A dozen times.”

  His brother’s family vacationed in Bermuda.

  Marci picked at her crab cake, feeling more and more as if she’d stepped into an alternate universe. These people went to Europe—and other foreign places—as matter-of-factly as she went to the Loop.

  “Say, Christopher, you’ll never guess who we had dinner with the other night. He wanted us to pass on his regards.”

  He lifted one shoulder in response to his father’s comment. “I have no idea.”

  When the older man mentioned one of the Supreme Court justices, Marci almost choked on the sip of water she’d taken.

  “Are you okay?” Christopher gave her a solicitous look and touched her shoulder.

  “Fine,” she coughed out the word.

  “Anyway, he’s thinking about retiring. Told me I ought to do the same.”

  “Maybe you should consider it. That would give you and Mom the chance to spend some time in Italy and take that Greek island cruise you’ve always talked about.”

  “I might cut back. But it’s hard to step away from a firm with your name on it.”

  “There are plenty of lawyers there who could pick up the slack,” Carol commented.

  Christopher’s father owned a law firm.

  Any hope she’d harbored about meshing their two worlds was dwindling as fast as an ice cube in Ronnie’s sweltering kitchen. Christopher had never talked about any of this stuff! But she supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. He was one of the most unpretentious people she’d ever met.

  “Tell us more about your family, Marci.”

  At Carol’s question, a bite of crab cake got caught in her throat.

  Coaxing her lips into the semblance of a smile, she took a drink of water and prayed for inspiration. She didn’t want to lie, but this wasn’t the time to go into her dysfunctional childhood.

  “Besides J.C., I have one other brother. He’s still in Illinois. But we stay in close touch.”

  She was saved from further explanation by the waiter’s return, and Marci used the food-ordering interlude to think up questions that would deflect the attention from her.

  As they all handed over their menus, she addressed Christopher’s mother. “I’ve never been to Paris. I’d love to hear more about your trip.”

  That conversation took them through their salads and up to the delivery of their entrées.

  Poking at her seared halibut, Marci searched for another innocuous topic. She’d already gleaned that Carol didn’t have a career outside the home, but she had a feeling the dynamic woman across from her was the type who kept busy with worthwhile causes. A discussion of those should carry them through the entrée portion of the meal.

  “So tell me, Carol. Do you have any special interests?”

  The older woman laughed. “Too many, to hear Brad talk.” She sent her husband an affectionate glance.

  “Only because you manage to rope me into all kinds of activities,” he teased. “I’ll never forget the year you signed us up to serve Thanksgiving dinner at a homeless shelter and we had to traipse all the way downtown on streets better suited to ice hockey than driving.”

  “Yeah.” Christopher chuckled. “Mark and I threw our skates in the car just in case.”

  “But you know what? That was one of our best Thanksgivings. All of the people we served were so grateful,” Carol said. “And it made us appreciate our blessings all the more.”

  “That’s true,” Brad agreed.

  “In terms of ongoing activities, though, my volunteer commitment to Birthright means the most to me,” Carol said. “I didn’t know much about the organization until Christopher joined the board and got me involved. It’s such worthwhile work. Can you imagine anything better than saving the lives of unborn children?”

  The crab cake congealed in Marci’s stomach.

  “Anyway, I’ve been volunteering there one day a week for the past five years. By the way, Christopher, Allison asked me to say hello.”

  “How’s she doing?”

  “Great. She’s one of the best workers there and has really gotten her act together. Can you believe Sam is almost four?”

  Christopher shook his head. “Time slips away, doesn’t it? I’m glad things are going well for her.”

  “Allison was a patient of Christopher’s at the clinic,” Carol explained to Marci. At the younger woman’s blank look, she tipped her head. “He’s told you about the clinic, hasn’t he?”

  “No.” Marci was beginning to realize how little she knew about the man beside her.

  “Why am I not surprised?” Carol gave Christopher an affectionate smile.

  “It’s no big deal, Mom.”

  “It is to the people you treated.” She redirected her attention to Marci. “He volunteered at this clinic in a, shall we say, less-than-desirable area of Boston. Allison came in asking about an abortion. She’d had one a couple of years before and found herself back in the same situation. Different father. Christopher encouraged her to at least talk to the people at Birthright.

  “Well, long story short, thanks to his efforts, she decided to not only have the baby, but keep it. As you can imagine, since she speaks from personal experience, she’s very effective when talking with young women who are thinking about making a different choice.”

  “We need more women like her,” Christopher added. “Think of all the innocent lives we could save if we could help women understand that there are better ways of dealing with an unplanned pregnancy than killing the child.”

  Marci couldn’t think of one thing to say in response.

  When the silence lengthened, Christopher stepped in. “Speaking of helping people out, I have some news on the elder-assistance plan I’ve been working on.”

  The conversation during the remainder of the meal focused on Caring Connections, but though Christopher played up her role and tried to draw her in, Marci didn’t add much. How could she maintain an upbeat front when the fairy-tale dreams she’d allowed herself to indulge in were disintegrating before her eyes?

  As dinner wound down, Christopher leaned close to her ear. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “You didn’t eat much.”

  She surveyed her plate. Most of her entrée was untouched.

  “Would you like to take that home, miss?”

  A waiter was hovering at her shoulder, waiting for her response. At the prices this place charged, she’d feel guilty about wasting her food. But did well-bred people take food home from a classy joint like this?

  “You’re lucky you live here,” Carol said. “I’d take mine home if I wasn’t staying in a hotel.”

  That cinched it.

  “Yes, please,” Marci told the waiter.

  No sooner had he whisked her plate away than another waiter appeared carrying a cake with flickering candles on top. He set it in front of Christopher.

  “Shall we sing?” Brad asked.

  “No. The wake-up call rendition this morning was sufficient, thanks.” Christopher shook his head. “When did you arrange this?”

  “Your mother took care of it.”

  “What’s a birthday without a cake?” Carol said. “Make a wish.”

  Marci had folded her hands tightly in her lap as she regarded the cake, but all at once Christopher reached out and covered them with one of his.

  Startled, she lifted her chin to meet his gaze. In his eyes she saw his wish—but also concern. As if he sensed something was amiss.

  And there was. She didn’t belong here, in this close-knit family circle. Thanks to her own sordid family history and a past she couldn’t change.

  Although the temptation to simply get up and walk out was strong, she refrained. No way did she want to cause a scene or ruin Christopher’s birthday.

  But the instant they finished their cake, she was out of here.

  Chapter Thi
rteen

  Something was very wrong.

  As Christopher ate his last bite of cake, he took a quick look at Marci. She’d eaten no more than a couple forkfuls of her dessert, mashing the remainder into a small, gooey lump in the middle of her plate. And she’d grown increasingly more subdued as the meal had progressed.

  He supposed it was possible her encounter with the guy in the bar was responsible for the pall that had fallen over her, but some instinct told him that wasn’t the explanation.

  Maybe she was just nervous, he reflected, clenching his napkin in his lap. Meeting a guy’s parents was a big deal, even though his mom and dad had done their best to put her at ease with their usual charm and grace. But he didn’t think that was the reason for her withdrawal, either.

  Too bad she’d insisted on driving herself tonight. If she’d let him pick her up, the ride back to the main town would have given him plenty of opportunity to try and ferret out the reasons for her mood shift.

  That not being a possibility, he was left with only one alternative.

  Beside him, Marci set her napkin on the table and reached for her purse. “It’s been lovely meeting you both.” She directed her comment to his parents. “I hope you won’t mind if I make it an early evening, but I have a busy day tomorrow.”

  She rose, and Brad immediately did the same. Christopher wasn’t far behind.

  “Of course not, my dear.” Carol smiled and extended her hand. Marci took it, then shook Brad’s.

  “Drive safe,” the older man said.

  “I’ll walk you to your car.”

  At Christopher’s comment, she turned to him. An emotion that looked a lot like panic flashed across her eyes.

  “That’s not necessary.”

  “Yes, it is.” He set his own napkin on the table, stepped back and waited for her to precede him. Short of making a scene, he’d left her no option but to go with him. And she’d told him earlier she didn’t like scenes.

  Still, he’d expected her jaw to tip up just a bit in defiance. But to his surprise, he saw it tremble very subtly instead, and noted an almost imperceptible droop of her shoulders.