Finding the Perfect Man

by Marie Higgins

  He pulled into the double-car garage and stopped the truck beside his Jaguar. Either his construction business was doing very well, or he was making money as co-owner of Charlie’s Passions. After opening her door—like a gentleman—he carried her suitcase to the door entering his home. They entered into one side of the living room.

  She stepped away from him and slowly circled the front room. Decorated in dark colors, deep blue carpets and curtains, and what looked to be hand-carved oak furniture, it overwhelmed her.

  “What do you think?” he asked.

  “It’s beautiful. I love it.” She met his stare from across the room. “Do you really live here or are you trying to impress me with someone else’s house?”

  He laughed. “This is where I live. I promise.”

  “Well, if it makes any difference, I am impressed.” She grinned.

  “Let me show you to the guest room.”

  She followed him down a long hallway and to a bedroom. Up ahead was another room, which from where she stood, looked to be the master bedroom. When she stepped inside the guest room, she gasped. This was no guest room in her book. A walk-in closet took up most of the wall, just opposite the queen-size bed. On top of the five-drawer cabinet sat a wide-screen tv. Good grief, her own room wasn’t this big. This one even had an adjoining bath.

  “Do you like?” he asked.

  “Once again, you have surprised me, Brock.” She met his gaze. “It’s gorgeous.”

  “Wait until you see my bedroom.” He wagged his eyebrows.

  “What makes you think I’m going to see it?”

  “Since you think this room is gorgeous, I bet you’re wondering right now what mine looks like.”

  She scowled, teasingly. She really hated that he could read her mind so well. “Maybe later, not now.”

  He chuckled and set her suitcase on the bed. “Are you hungry?”

  “No, I’m fine.”

  “Let me know if you need anything.” He walked out, leaving her alone in the room.

  She sure hoped he did something that upset her really soon, because if she stayed in this grand place any longer, she might not want to leave.

  She quickly unpacked and then walked back into the large living room. Brock squatted in front of the fireplace, building a fire. With his back toward her, she took her time in admiring the living room and let her gaze move into the kitchen…the grandest kitchen she’d ever seen. The many cabinets were made of oak with shiny golden knobs. An island counter stood in the middle of the floor, canopied with hanging pots and pans. Large spacious bay windows on two sides of the kitchen, with white half-curtains covering them.

  She’d always dreamed of having a kitchen like this, but she’d never have the time to use it the way she wanted. Such was the life of a workaholic.

  “What do you think of my kitchen?” Brock asked from the other room.

  She wandered back to him, shaking her head. “I swear I’ve never seen anything so amazing in my life. Did your construction company build this especially for you and your wife?”

  He closed the glass screen on the fireplace, stood and faced her. “No. Lanie never lived here. This house was built after our divorce, for which I’m glad. If I would have had this place when we were married, I’m sure she would have gotten it—and a cheating spouse should never be that lucky.”

  “So true.”

  Silence stretched between them again, feeling awkward. The wood crackled in the fireplace as the room slowly filled with warmth.

  “Well, I’m going to leave you for a moment and go shovel the walk and driveway. Feel free to wander around my house, although I’d like you to wait so I can take you on a tour myself, but make yourself at home. If you need me for anything, I’ll be outside.”

  She nodded. “I think I’ll just sit in front of the fireplace and relax.”

  He pointed toward his cd stereo and speakers. “Do you want me to put on some music?”

  “Christmas music?”

  “Yes, I have that.” He moved to the player and pushed a few buttons. Immediately, soft music began playing. “Is that all right?”

  “Perfect, thank you.”

  He bundled his coat around his neck, slipped on his thick gloves, and went outside. She plopped down on his soft couch, lined with dozens of small pillows. Minutes passed, and she wished he’d hurry and come back to keep her company. Strange to think she missed him already.

  Groaning, she hugged a pillow to her chest, wishing she wouldn’t think such things. She closed her eyes and curled herself on the couch as she tried to send her thoughts in different directions. She tried to think about her other patients. But one patient stood out above the rest...Brock as he’d pretended to be.

  Growling, she adjusted herself on the couch again. She thought of Serena. How long did her stepmother have to live? Serena had aged so much since the last time Jordan had seen her. It couldn’t be long now. The night they had dinner, she’d been pale and looked so tired. Even Brock saw the signs.

  Brock! Oh, why did he have to constantly invade her thoughts?

  This time, she let the pictures of him fill her head. She allowed herself to remember that night when they danced, the lovely necklace he gave her, and the way he gazed into her eyes and kissed her so passionately. Tingles crept along her skin when she remembered his gentle touch on her face, her arms and neck. She could still see his expression when he’d opened the gift she’d gave to him. Tenderness and gratefulness were in his eyes, his words, and his kiss.

  She let herself relax as she relived that special night. The night she’d never forget. She would have liked to experience much more with Brock, but there had been no time.

  The loud scraping against the window jarred Jordan out of her dream. She bolted up on the couch, her mind whirling. The scraping sounded again, and she looked out the window. The wind blew the tree branch against the window as snow swirled everywhere.

  Blinking several times, she regained her bearings. When had it become so dark? She glanced around the room for a clock. How long had she been lying on the couch dreaming about Brock?

  A large crocheted blanket covered her. She must have fallen asleep, and Brock had covered her up. How sweet.

  Rubbing her hands over her face, she forced herself to wake up completely. From the look of the wind outside, another storm had arrived in full force. The fire was still blazing, making the room toasty warm.

  She pushed the blanket off and stood. Stretching the kinks out of her body, she walked further into the house to find Brock. The house echoed with silence. Almost too quiet.

  “Brock?”

  She waited for an answer, but didn’t hear any. She stepped further, daring to go down the hallway toward his bedroom. The sound of water running grew louder the closer she came to the room. The door stood open, and hesitantly, she peeked inside. The master bedroom also had an adjoining bath, and from the sound of it, Brock was using the shower.

  She swallowed hard. Going inside was not a good idea!

  Yet, curiosity pulled her inside. After all, she did want to see what his room looked like.

  Hesitantly, she stepped inside and scoped out the room. A hand-carved, wooden frame held the king-size mattress, covered by an old-fashioned, brown, patch-work quilt. The six drawers and wardrobe closets were made to match the rest of the bedroom set. In another corner stood a full-screen television—much bigger than the one in the guest room. On the ceiling hung a ceiling fan, but not just any ordinary one. The wooden blades were the same color as the drawers, wardrobe and bedframe. The trim was gold, as were the light fixtures, and the bulbs were pearl shaped. What made this one stand out was the large size…and how many bulbs grouped in the middle.

  Oh, and good heavens…there was a fireplace in this glorious room, too! Astounding!

  Jordan couldn’t help but fall in love with the whole room…the whole homey cabin, even. Her chest burst with warmth. Now she knew she wanted to live here forever.

  The noise from
the shower’s spray pulled her thoughts away when she peered in that direction. The bathroom door was cracked open slightly, and from where she stood, she saw a glimpse of the steamed mirror. Although she was interested in what the master bathroom looked like, she was not going to venture inside there until it was empty.

  She turned and meandered back toward the door, but a bookcase she hadn’t noticed before drew her attention. Several books were stocked on the wooden shelves, and she moved closer to see what he liked to read. It amazed her to see a variation of different genres, from how-to books, to biographies, to books about philosophy.

  Stunned, she couldn’t pull herself away from the different titles. Surprisingly enough, Brock had a wide-range of interests. Good grief, he cooks, builds, acts, treats her like a queen, and still has time to be her bodyguard. What can’t this man do? She was quite sure he’d look good wearing red tights and a cape and flying around the world saving people, too. Never in her life had she met a man more…perfect.

  So why couldn’t she get past his deceit when they first met? Had Kenneth really ruined her for other men?

  “Do you see anything you like?”

  His voice boomed from the stillness in the room, and she jumped and spun around. He stood just outside the bathroom door wearing a thick brown, terrycloth robe. His wet hair was slicked back on his head, reminding her of when she first met Rocky at the bar. A small amount of his chest showed between the v-line in the robe, but it was his muscular legs where her gaze finally landed.

  Why, oh why did he have to be incredibly built?

  “Uh…what?” she stammered.

  The corner of his mouth lifted in that adorable grin she loved seeing. As he walked closer, he pointed to the bookcase. “A book. Do you see a book you’d like to read?”

  “Oh, the books!” Embarrassment filled her completely, making her face hot. She was sure it was bright red, too. She quickly turned to the shelves, hoping he didn’t see her blush. “I was just thinking how many books you had—and such a variety of things to read.” She glanced over her shoulder. He stood closer than before and her heart leapt. “I’m impressed with your reading material.”

  He ran his fingers through his hair. “Well, I do like to keep an open mind, and I definitely like to learn a variety of things. Would you like to borrow a book?”

  “Uh, well…maybe later.”

  When she finally felt her blush had left her cheeks, she turned and faced him. The scent of musky soap enveloped him and made her want to closer her eyes, rest her head in the curve of his neck, and inhale deeply.

  “Did you have a nice nap?” He swept his knuckles gently across her cheek. “I didn’t dare wake you.”

  “Yes, I did. I think the warmth from the fire, and the comfort of protection this place gives me, finally let my mind relax enough so I could sleep.” She sighed heavily. “It was greatly needed.”

  He cupped her face loosely with both hands. “You feel protected here?”

  Her heart leapt. Good grief, she had said that, hadn’t she? She couldn’t very well retract what she’d said, mainly because she knew it was the truth. “Yes. Strange how it sounds, I know, but I do feel more protected here than in my townhouse.”

  Brock’s eyes were so dreamy, such a lovely dark green, that she began to feel dizzy with desire. Whether it was the warmth from his fireplace—or from his caring gaze—she didn’t know. All she knew was that if she didn’t look away, she’d melt into a puddle at his feet.

  Dropping her eyes to the middle of his chest wasn’t a good thing, either. A small patch of hair decorated his wide chest, and she couldn’t stop her fingers from reaching out to touch his skin between the opening of his robe. Immediately, she heard his quick intake of breath and noticed his body stiffen. Tingles ran amuck through her, but she couldn’t quite find the strength to pull her touch away. “Brock, I…” She swallowed to moisten her suddenly cotton-dry throat.

  His thumbs stroked her jaw and cheeks as he gently tilted her face. When she finally moved her focus, all she saw was his mouth descending…

  His mouth silenced not only her words, but her thoughts. When his lips touched hers, explosions erupted in her head and humming rang in her ears…but it was a different type of hum, one that came from his heavy sigh.

  She wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned into him, participating fully in the kiss. Her lips moved in a cadence with his as if beginning a beautiful and very passionate dance. His lips were very tender, and very stimulating, and just as before, she lost her head in the magic of the moment.

  It was hard not to feel so protected in this perfect man’s tight embrace. Her heart burst into a million stars that spread through every inch of her body, bringing happiness and surrender. Thoughts she had no right thinking submerged. She wanted to smile and sigh with delight. Words finally came to her mind, and this time she felt like saying them out loud.

  She loved him. Desperately. Without a doubt.

  Thankfully, his mouth melding to hers stopped the confession from coming out. After all, she needed to think straight before saying such a thing. Before those words passed from her mouth, she had to make sure she knew what kind of commitment this was—and if she was up for the challenge.

  Brock’s drugging kisses could sweep her away into doing things she’d regret later, so she found the strength to break the kiss. The smile on her face wouldn’t leave even if she wanted it. Gazing up into his eyes, she realized he wore a satisfied smile, too.

  “I should let you get dressed,” she whispered.

  “Are you sure?”

  She hitched a breath, not daring to breathe for fear she’d sigh loudly. The meaning of his question was clear, but she couldn’t let his hypnotic voice sway her. “Yes, I’m sure.”

  He nodded, kissed her forehead and stepped away. “I’ll be down in a minute to make dinner. You’re probably starving.”

  What she was starving for was not on the menu. “All right, don’t be long.” She turned and left his room. She had made the correct decision to leave, but heaven help her, it was so dang hard to leave the comfort of his arms and the magic of his kiss. She prayed she could start trusting him again so that there would be more enchanted moments in her life like what had just happened.

  * * * *

  Brock smiled as he dressed—quickly—in order to get downstairs before Jordan had time to think about what they’d just done. Literally, the earth had moved for him. His heart was so full right now, and all he wanted to do was cuddle with her and never let her go.

  She hadn’t stopped him from kissing her the way he’d wanted for two days now. It was like fate had led her to his bedroom just as he’d finished his shower. Surprisingly, she didn’t turn and run back downstairs. Instead, she stayed and allowed him to kiss her.

  He couldn’t stop the smile of satisfaction from touching his mouth. Suddenly a different emotion entered his chest, making him ache with confusion. The words hung on his tongue, ready to spill forth. Could it be that he’d allowed himself to fall in love? And if he was in love with her, was it so terrible?

  What if he did love her? Could she forgive him for his deception enough to return his love?

  SIXTEEN

  The closing of her office door brought a deep sigh of relief from Jordan’s throat. Three sessions down, three more to go. It wasn’t that she didn’t love being a doctor, but because of her emotional weekend, her nerves were on end.

  She seriously thought about going to a doctor herself for a prescription of Prozac. To make things worse, Erica had called in sick today. Of course, Jordan didn’t blame her. Erica had been through an ordeal, too. On the other hand, Jordan wished she wasn’t alone in her office building between patients.

  Glancing at the wall clock, she checked the time. Almost noon. She smiled, thinking of the promise she’d given Brock about having lunch with him. Just one more appointment to go.

  It shocked her how well she and Brock got along over the weekend. After that wonderful, enthr
alling kiss, she thought it would be awkward between them. Thank goodness it wasn’t. Brock had made a delicious meal and they sat on the couch and discussed books they’d read and what they’d learned from them. On Sunday they lounged around the house and played board games in between watching movies on the big screen tv.

  Brock hadn’t tried to kiss her again, and although some of the times she wished he had tried, it had made her realize how much she missed being intimate with him like that.

  She pushed away from her desk and walked out of her room, down the hall to the drinking fountain. After taking a moment to enjoy the cool water trickling down her throat, she moved into the bathroom to fix her make-up. She froze. Her heart literally stopped beating.

  Big, bold letters in red lipstick across the mirror. Soon, Jordan. I’ll have you soon.

  She gasped, her hand flew to her mouth to keep the scream from releasing. Nobody would hear, anyway.

  Her legs shook like a newborn colt when she ran from the bathroom back to her office. She locked the door behind her. With an unsteady hand, she picked up the phone and punched in Brock’s cell number. Tears filled her eyes while she waited for him to pick up. Who could be doing this to her?

  Finally, his comforting baritone voice echoed on the other end. She let the tears stream down her cheeks.

  “Brock…come quick.”

  “Jordan? What’s wrong?” His concerned voice tugged on her heart.

  “He’s…been here. He left…left another…message.”

  “Lock your door, I’ll be right over.”

  “Okay,” she whispered, and then hung up.

  Her heart thundered in her ears as she curled on the brown leather sofa, waiting for Brock’s protective arms to reassure her he’d guard her from danger. It seemed like hours, but when she heard the roar from his Ram truck speeding into the parking lot, she realized it had only been ten minutes.

  She jumped up and ran to the door, fumbled with the lock and opened it. Brock rushed into the building, heading right for her. His eyebrows drawn, lips thinned in worry. She threw herself in his arms and sobbed.