The Perfect Christmas: The Perfect Christmas / Can This Be Christmas?. Debbie Macomber

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      “Why is that?”

      “Well, first, if you haven’t been able to find yourself a wife, what qualifies you to find me a husband?”

      “All I will say is that a doctor doesn’t need to have a disease in order to cure it. I’m good at what I do. If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be willing to offer a refund if I’m unsuccessful in locating a husband for you.”

      “Are you always so stiff and formal—as if your underwear’s been starched?”

      He stood abruptly. “I believe that will be all for this afternoon.”

      “You’re sending me away?” She blinked, disappointed. Cassie was just starting to enjoy this. His typical clients were probably more respectful, if not downright obsequious.

      “This interview is over.”

      “Did I pass?” She’d rather know now than be left hanging. She guessed not. She wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t take her on. And yet, disagreeable though he was, Simon Dodson intrigued her.

      He hesitated. “I’ll be in touch later this week.”

      This was a line Cassie had heard before. “In other words, don’t call me, I’ll call you.”

      “Precisely.”

      Cassie recognized her marching orders. She bent down for her purse and reluctantly stood.

      As she drove back to her condo, she tried to make sense of her short interview. On her way up, she collected her mail and noticed once again that the Tuesday paper was missing. Mrs. Mullinex, no doubt.

      She ran for the elevator and saw Mr. Oliver, who lived on the same floor, standing inside. Looking her right in the eye, he let the doors close instead of holding them for her. This wasn’t the first time, either. He was an unsociable man; the most she’d been able to coax out of him was a muffled greeting, as if he begrudged every word he was forced to speak.

      When she got to her condo, she saw that she had company.

      “Shawn!” Her brother had made himself at home and was wolfing down a sandwich while standing over her kitchen sink.

      “Hey, it’s about time you got home. Where were you?”

      Rather than explain, Cassie walked over and hugged her big brother. “I had an appointment. How long are you here?” she asked.

      “Two days, maybe three.”

      Shawn often had only a few days’ rest before he flew to some other town where another commission awaited him. She knew he was headed to Phoenix, Arizona, next. He had his own home in Portland, but every now and then he dropped in on her. In an effort to encourage his visits, she’d given him a key to her condo.

      “I take it you’re hungry.”

      “Starved.”

      “Let me fix you something decent.” Cassie checked the contents of her refrigerator, then reached for a frying pan. She loved to cook and had a small repertoire of favorite dishes. This was one. “How does taco salad sound?”

      “Like ambrosia from the gods.” He sat on the stool and watched her move about the compact kitchen. “You’re going to make some man a wonderful wife.”

      She whirled around to face him. “Funny you should say that.”

      Shawn went still. “You’ve met someone?”

      “I would’ve told you!” They weren’t in the habit of keeping secrets from each other. “My appointment this afternoon was with a professional matchmaker.”

      Her brother’s head went back as if the announcement had shocked him. “Get out of here! A matchmaker?”

      “I had my first appointment with the great and mighty Dr. Simon Dodson.”

      “How’d it go?”

      Cassie set the onion on the chopping board and paused. “I’m not sure. Simon’s pretty rude, but apparently he knows his stuff.”

      “Simon, is it?”

      In her mind it was. “Yeah. He’s not a medical doctor, even though he has a bunch of letters behind his name.”

      Her brother looked unconvinced. “You checked his references?”

      “I did. I spoke with two couples who met through him. I was warned in advance that he isn’t the most likeable fellow on the face of the earth, but they say he has this gift.”

      “How’d you hear about him?”

      “Through Angie.”

      “Angie?” Her brother appeared as astonished by this as Cassie had been. “I wouldn’t think she’d need a matchmaker. Did she go to him?”

      Cassie nodded.

      “When?”

      “A little while ago. She didn’t really say. What I don’t get is why Simon rejected her.”

      “That’s crazy! Angie’s great.”

      “And I’m not?” she asked, her hand on her hip.

      Shawn chuckled. “I’m staying as far away from that question as I can. What did the matchmaker say? If he rejected Angie, then what about you?”

      That was the thirty-thousand-dollar question. “I don’t know if Simon will accept me as a client or not. He said he’d phone, but…” The rest of her sentence was drowned out by loud rap music coming from the condo to the right of hers.

      “Good grief, what’s that?” Shawn covered his ears.

      “My new neighbor,” Cassie shouted back. She walked over to the kitchen wall and banged hard three times. Within half a minute, the music had been turned down to a more respectable volume.

      “Jalapeño?” she asked next, hardly missing a beat.

      “Might as well. My life could do with a bit of spicing up.”

      “Mine, too.”

      “So tell me more about this matchmaker. Do you like him?”

      Cassie began tearing lettuce industriously. “The truth is, I don’t. He’s arrogant, snooty and definitely not my type. I’m not his, either. Not that it matters… But he doesn’t like to be questioned or challenged. I could tell I irritated him.”

      “You heard he’s successful, though, right?”

      “Yeah.” Until that moment, Cassie hadn’t realized how much she hoped Simon would agree to work with her. “I don’t know if he’s ready for someone like me.”

      “What do you mean?”

      She СКАЧАТЬ