03_The Doctor's Perfect Match Read Online Free PDF Page A

warmed as he ran a finger over the words inked by Marci’s hand.
    “Maybe interesting wasn’t the right word.”
    As Henry’s eyes narrowed in speculation, heat crept up Christopher’s neck. “It’s a gift certificate. I did an impromptu house call a few days ago, and the patient was grateful. You ever been here?” He waved the envelope at Henry, hoping to distract him.
    It didn’t work.
    “Female patient?”
    The man might be old, but he was still sharp, Christopher conceded. And if he tried to dodge the question, Henry would get more suspicious. “Yes. Her brother just married the owner, and she’s running the place while they’re on their honeymoon. Hence the invitation.” Christopher paused as an idea took shape. “Don’t you have a birthday coming up?”
    “I stopped counting those long ago.”
    “June eighth.” Christopher had jotted the occasion on his calendar. Henry might pretend not to care about his birthday, but he’d been thrilled last year when his tenant had treated him to an upscale dinner at The Chanticleer. “How about you and I give this a try on your big day?” He held up the gift certificate.
    Sliding his palms into the back pockets of his slacks, Henry bowed forward like a reed, his knobby elbows akimbo, his expression dubious. “Kind of fancy-schmancy, isn’t it?”
    “You deserve fancy on your birthday.”
    “You ought to take some pretty little lady to a place like that.”
    An image of Marci flashed through his mind, but Christopher pushed it aside. “Pretty little ladies seem to be in short supply these days.”
    “You’re not looking in the right places, then.”
    “I’m not looking, period.”
    “I know.” Henry sighed. “But you’ve got to move on, Christopher. You can’t let one bad experience ruin your life. I learned that after Korea. Lots of the guys in my outfitcouldn’t get past the bad stuff once they came home. Haunted them for the rest of their lives. I wouldn’t want that to happen to you. You’re thirty-six years old. You should have a wife and a bunch of kids by now.”
    “I’ll get around to that one of these days.”
    “You said that last year.”
    Christopher laid a hand on the older man’s bony shoulder. “I appreciate your concern, Henry. But this is best for now.” He lifted the certificate again. “In the meantime, do we have a date?”
    The man grinned. “I expect we do. Shall I break out my tie?”
    “I will if you will.”
    “It’s a deal.”
     
    As Marci returned from showing two guests to their table, a tall man with deep blue eyes, dressed in khaki slacks and a navy blue blazer, stepped into the foyer of The Devon Rose.
    Christopher Morgan.
    He smiled when he saw her, the fine fan of lines at the corners of his eyes crinkling. “You’re looking a lot better.”
    A disconcerting ripple of warmth spread through her as he drew close, and she wiped her palms down her slim black skirt. “I’m feeling a lot better.”
    “That’s good news.” He held up a familiar piece of paper. “I’m here to redeem my gift certificate.”
    Julie must have taken the reservation, Marci concluded, skimming the names on the day’s seating chart. There it was. Morgan. Table six. For two.
    He’d brought a date.
    Her warm feeling evaporated.
    Steeling herself, she looked up again, expecting to see some gorgeous female lurking behind him.
    Instead, a wiry, wizened old man with thin, neatly combedgray hair popped out and grinned at her. But he directed his question to Christopher.
    “Is this the lady who sent you the certificate?”
    “She’s the one.”
    Henry’s grin broadened as he inspected Marci. “It’s my birthday. Eighty-five years and counting.”
    “Wow! That does deserve a celebration.” Marci smiled back.
    “At my age, every day I wake up is worth celebrating.” His eyes twinkled as he stuck out his hand. “Name’s Henry Calhoun. I’m Christopher’s neighbor. Nice to meet you.”
    She returned his firm shake.