скачать книгу бесплатно
One thing he did know was that love wouldn’t be the deciding factor. He’d already seen what that did to a person. His mother had loved his father but his father had not felt the same. In fact, she’d doted on him, but he’d stayed away more than he’d been at home. Each time he’d left she’d cried and begged him not to go. When he’d leave again she’d be depressed until she learned that he was coming home. Then she’d go into manic mode, buying a new dress and spending hours “fixing herself up.” His father had never stayed long. Leaving two boys to watch their mother’s misery as he’d disappeared down the drive. Finally he’d divorced her. Tanner refused to have any kind of relationship like that. His career demanded his time and focus. He had to have a wife who could handle that.
Maybe the executive matchmaker could help him find what he needed in a woman. If that woman was happy with what he could offer outside of giving his heart then she would suit him.
“Hey, Tanner,” the kidney team surgeon said after a tap to his arm, “who was the woman you were talking to? Did you have to break a hot date?”
He shrugged. “Just a woman I met.”
“You know one day you’re going to have to settle down. Hospital boards like to have their department heads going home to a family at night. I’ve got a friend of a friend with a sister. Pretty, I heard.”
“I’m good, Charlie.”
He grinned. “I’m just saying...”
Tanner was tired of being fixed up by friends and family. Everyone wanted their daughter or friend to marry a doctor.
He looked over at the nurse sitting beside Charlie. She was talking to a member of the liver team. They’d been out a number of times but nothing had really clicked. Tanner didn’t want to date out of the nursing pool anymore. He wanted to go home to someone who wasn’t caught up in the high adrenaline rush of medical work. A woman who gave him a peaceful haven where he could unwind.
He expected Whitney Thomason to find that person for him.
By the next morning, Tanner had put in over twenty-four hours at the hospital, but his patient, who had been at death’s door, was now doing well in CICU. The life-giving gift of a heart transplant never ceased to amaze him. He was humbled by his part in the process.
Thankfully he’d managed to catch a couple of hours’ sleep on the plane to and from the hospital where his team had retrieved the heart. Now he had morning rounds to make and then he was headed home to bed. His scheduled surgeries had been moved back a day or postponed. Sleep was the only thing on his agenda for today.
Knocking on the door of Room 223 of the step-down unit, he slowly pushed it open. “Mr. Vincent?”
“Come in.” The man’s voice was strong.
Tanner entered and moved to the bed. “How’re you feeling today, Mr. Vincent?”
“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t sore.”
Tanner smiled. Mr. Vincent was only a week out from transplant. Where he’d hardly been able to walk down the hall in the weeks before his surgery, now he could do it back and forth with confidence. Transplants were amazing things. “Sorry about that but it’s just part of the process. It should get better every day.” Tanner looked around the room. “Mrs. Vincent here?”
“Naw. She had a hair appointment. She doesn’t like to miss them.” He sounded resigned to his wife’s actions. “She’ll be here soon, though.”
“The plan is for you to go home tomorrow. There are a number of things that the nurses will need to go over with you both.”
“Cindy doesn’t like blood and all this hospital stuff.”
“She’ll need to help with your care or you’ll have to find another family member to do it. Otherwise home health should be called in.”
Mrs. Vincent’s self-centeredness was just the type of thing that Tanner couldn’t tolerate. This man’s wife was so focused on her own needs that she couldn’t be bothered to support her husband’s return to good health. Her actions reminded him too much of his father’s.
“I need to give you a listen, Mr. Vincent.” Tanner removed his stethoscope from his neck. After inserting the earpieces in his ears, he placed the listening end on the man’s chest. There was a steady, strong beat where one hadn’t existed before the transplant.
“Can you sit forward, Mr. Vincent?”
“I can but I won’t like it much.” The middle-aged man shifted in the bed.
Tanner was listening to the man’s lungs when a platinum blonde strolled through the door. She stopped short as if she was surprised to see Tanner.
“Hello, Dr. Locke,” she said in a syrupy thick voice.
Tanner had only met Mrs. Vincent a couple of times but each time he had the prickly feeling that she was coming on to him. This time was no different. At least twenty years younger than her husband, she was overdressed and too absorbed in herself for someone who should have been concerned about a husband who had recently been at death’s door. Wearing a tight top and pants a size too small, she sauntered up to the bedside, leaning over. Tanner had a view of her cleavage that had no business being shared with anyone but her husband.
More than once Tanner had seen his mother act the same way toward his father. The action then and now made him feel uncomfortable.
“Hi, sweetie. It’s nice to see you.” Mr. Vincent gave her an adoring smile.
“So how’s the patient doing?” she cooed, not looking at her husband. His mother had used that same tone of voice when she’d spoken to his father.
“He’s ready to go home after we make sure you both understand his care.” Tanner wrapped his stethoscope around his neck.
“I’m not sure I can do that. I’m no nurse. I’m not good with blood and stuff.” She gave him a wide, bright, red-painted-lips smile.
Tanner stepped toward the door. “I’m sure the nurses can help you practice so that you become comfortable with what you need to do.”
“Cindy, sweetie, we’ll figure it out together.” Mr. Vincent took her manicured hand and gave her a pleading look. Just the way Tanner’s mother had looked at his father before he’d left for weeks.
“I’ll let the nurse know that you’re ready for her instructions.” Tanner went out the door.
The Vincents’ marriage was exactly the type he didn’t want. The one-sided kind. Tanner was afraid he would be too much like his mother. Give his heart and have it stomped on. A relationship where one of the partners couldn’t see past their love for the other while the other cared about nothing but themselves. A bond based on mutual respect would be far more satisfying in the long run. With his executive matchmaker contacts, that should be just the type of arrangement he’d manage to find.
The censoring look in Whitney’s eyes when he’d given his list of requirements had him questioning that she might have expected something more.
* * *
Whitney had spent the last two days working through her database in search of women who fit the description of what Tanner wanted. She had five names she thought might be of interest to him. Now she had to pin him down for a meeting so they could start the process.
She picked up the card he’d handed her and tapped it on her desk.
Why couldn’t Tanner find his own mate? What was his deal with the passionless list of requirements? He had nothing in common with her in that regard. She was looking for true love. The kind of love that endured forever, no matter what the hardships. The till-death-do-us-part kind that her parents and grandparents had. She’d built her business on that idea. Believed her clients should have that as well.
Once she’d thought she’d had it. That love. With a business degree in hand, she’d taken a job in a corporation. There she’d met Steve. He’d worked in an adjoining department and had seemed not to care that she’d been heavy. That had been a first for her. She’d had no dates in high school and very few in college. When Steve had started giving her attention she’d been ecstatic. For once in her life someone had been interested. After dating for over a year, they’d started planning a wedding.
Two weeks before the ceremony he’d called and told her he’d found someone else. The woman had turned out to be thin and pretty.
Whitney had been devastated. Again that inferiority she’d felt in high school and college had come flooding back. To fight the pain, she’d done whatever she could to keep busy. She’d spent her time walking whenever she’d been alone to prevent dwelling on her broken heart. After a while she’d become interested in wellness nutrition and had adopted a healthy lifestyle. Soon she’d joined an overeating support group and continued to slim down. Men had started paying attention to her but she’d not yet found one that she trusted to stick with her. She wanted a man who cared about her and not just her looks. Those faded.
In college she’d introduced a number of friends to other classmates. The majority of those relationships had become long-term ones and many of the couples had gone on to marry. Whitney had gained the reputation of being a matchmaker. When her boss had confided in her that she was having trouble dating, Whitney had introduced her to a friend of her family. They too had married. A few years later, when the company she’d worked for had downsized and Whitney had been let go, she’d decided that if she couldn’t find someone for herself she could at least help others find the right person. Opening Professional Matchmaking had been her answer.
Despite her own disappointments, she still believed that there was a soul mate for everyone. So what had happened in Tanner’s life to make him not believe in love? Could she convince him it was necessary for him too? But that wasn’t what he was paying her to do. He wanted the best mate possible and it was her job to see that she found that person, not change his requirements.
Whitney punched in Tanner’s number from the card. Now it was time to help him do just that.
On the second ring he answered. “Locke.”
“This is Whitney Thomason.”
“Who?” His voice became muffled, as if he was speaking to someone else.
“Whitney Thomason of Professional Matchmaking.”
“Uh, yeah. Just a minute.”
She waited while he spoke to the other person, giving orders about what should be done for a patient.
Even with his abrupt speech he had a nice voice. Sort of warm and creamy. The kind a woman liked to hear in her ear when a man rolled toward her in the middle of the night. Heavens, that wasn’t a thought she should be having about her newest client.
Seconds later the background noise quieted.
“I only have a few seconds. What can I do for you?”
She understood about being busy but he was the one requesting her help. “I have compiled a list of possible matches for you. I’d like to get together and discuss them. Start setting up some socials.”
“Socials? I’m not interested in, neither do I have time for, tea parties.”
That’s why he didn’t have anyone. He wouldn’t put in the effort it took to develop a relationship. “Socials are when you have your first meeting with a potential mate. Before I can set those up we need to talk and sort out who you’d like to consider first.”
“Can’t you just take care of that?” He already sounded distracted. Maybe he was the same self-centered guy she’d known in college.
“Tanner, are you sure you want to do this?” Her voice took on a hard note. “You have to put some time and effort into finding the right person. Maybe you aren’t ready yet.”
There was a pause then a sigh of resignation. “What do you want me to do?”
“Can you meet me at Cafе Lombard at six this evening?”
“I’ll be there.” There was a click on the line as he ended the call.
Had she made him mad? Her time was valuable too. Tanner had come to her for help. He was going to have to meet her halfway, do his part to help find the perfect match for him. That required energy. If their conversation at the cafе didn’t go well, she’d just tell him that he needed to go elsewhere for assistance.
* * *
Cafе Lombard was a small establishment at the bottom of Lombard Street, which was famous for being the curviest street in the world. Flowers bloomed between each of the curves, making it a fun street to look at but not to drive along. Tanner wasn’t a fan of quaintness and this was one of the most picturesque places in San Francisco. When he arrived right at six, he spotted Whitney sitting at a table for two in the patio area.
Again her shoulder-length hair was primly pulled back into a controlled mass at the nape of her neck. She wore a simple blouse that gave little hint of her body shape and with that were a pair of black pants and flat shoes. There was nothing flamboyant about her. She looked as if she wanted to blend in, go unnoticed.
He started across the street toward her. She glanced up. A smile came to her lips as she waved at him. Now that expression stood out. It encouraged him to return it and he did.
Tanner joined her at the table.
“You’re not going to grab me, are you?” She put a chair between them.
“Not unless you want me to. Look, I’m sorry about that. I just didn’t want my colleagues asking a lot of questions. It was easier to pretend you were my girlfriend.”
“I guess I can understand that.”
He dropped into the chair across from her.
“Would you like something to drink or eat? It’s on me, of course,” Whitney offered.
She seemed to have already forgotten his invasion of her personal space. She was a good sport. “Thank you. I’m starved. But I can get my own.”
The waiter came to their table.
“I’ll have a cob salad and a water,” Whitney said.
“And I’ll have a steak sandwich with fries with a large lemonade.”
The waiter left. Whitney quirked a corner of her mouth up as if perplexed by something.
“What?” Tanner asked.
“Lemonade? You seem more like a beer guy.”
“I am, but I’m on call.”
“Ah, that makes sense.” She appeared to approve.
He leaned forward and crossed his arms on the table. “I’m sorry I was so abrupt with you on the phone. I’ve just been super busy this month. Under a lot of pressure.”
She smiled. “I understand. I’ll try to keep this short and sweet.”
“So what did you need to see me about?”
“I’ve found some potential dates I think you might be interested in. I’d like you to review their files and see what you think. Then I’ll set up a social with the one you like best.” Whitney pushed a pink folder toward him.
Pink seemed an appropriate color for a matchmaker. At least her office supplies had some flair. Tanner opened the folder to find a printed page with the name of a woman at the top and information about her. He looked at Whitney. “No picture? I don’t get to see what they look like?”
“Not until you meet them. I think a lasting relationship should be based on something more than looks. I want my clients to see beyond the surface.”
“Interesting.” Was there something peculiar about that belief? She no doubt believed in true love and happily-ever-after. He’d learned long ago not to believe in fairy tales. He flipped through the other pages. The women seemed interesting but a couple of them owned their own businesses. He picked up their sheets. “These don’t look like they would have time to devote to children, take on social obligations.”
“They both assure me that they would be willing to change their lifestyle for the right person. We can put them at the bottom of the list, if you wish, however.”
“Have you spoken to them about me?” He didn’t relish the idea of being discussed like a piece of merchandise. Yet he was doing the same thing in regards to those women.
She took the women’s profiles from him and placed the open file on the table between them both. “I didn’t disclose your name or picture but, yes, they have reviewed your profile as well.”
“So this is how it works.”
“Yes.”
The waiter returned with their meals. Neither of them said anything until he left.
Whitney leaned forward with a reassuring smile on her lips. “It’s not as painful as you might think. All my clients are interested in finding the same thing. Happiness with someone.”
She made it sound like this was about a love match. A ride off into a beautiful sunset. “I’m more interested in someone who’s compatible and interested in the same things as I am.”
