Karen Whittenburg - The Matchmaker's Apprentice

“I just happened to be in the neighborhood,” he said, his voice falling into the old teasing patterns he’d always used with her. “Matt told me you’ve started a new career, so I had to come and see what you’re up to this time.”

She drew back, her hands still clasped loosely, affectionately, on his forearms. “Matt knew you were coming to Providence and he didn’t tell me?”

Ivan laughed. “I guess that means he didn’t tell you I’m going to be working just down the road from you, either.”

“You’re kidding! You got a position with the Providence hospital?”

“Better than that.” Ivan couldn’t keep the pride from his voice. In all his dreams of making a difference in the world, he’d never thought he’d be granted such an opportunity so soon. “Matt’s asked me to head up the new pediatric research center for The Danville Foundation. I’ll oversee treatment for the children with serious illnesses and work closely with the research team to develop the best regimen of therapy and medications for each patient.”

A flicker of dismay dimmed her smile for a moment, but it was so quickly gone he decided he must have imagined it. Ainsley was happy for him. She was always happy about everything. “That’s great,” she said, and although he might have wished for a bit more enthusiasm in her voice, her dimples showed and her blue eyes shone with excitement. “We have to celebrate! You have to come to Danfair tonight for dinner. And don’t even think of saying no.”

Ivan didn’t have the heart to tell her Matt had already extended a similar invitation. “You know I never pass up an offer of a free meal.”

She tilted her head, giving him a sassy smile. “Oh, it’s not free,” she said. “It’s going to cost you lots and lots of information. You have to tell everything you’ve been doing and the real reason you haven’t been back to Rhode Island in five whole years.”

“That’ll be a short conversation. I’ve been in Phoenix, doing my internship and residency. In all that time, I’ve had less than three weeks off, none of it longer than thirty-six hours at once. That’s the story.”

“Do not think for half a second I’ll let you off with that. No one works so hard they can’t find a single second to make a phone call or send a postcard. Give it up, Donovan. I have a sixth sense for these things, and I’m sensing a demanding woman and a lurid romance tucked away in those years somewhere.” She frowned suddenly. “You didn’t get married and forget to tell me, did you?”

“Oh, no, ma’am,” he said in his best and most exaggerated Texas drawl. “I’ve had no time for romance…lurid or otherwise. Being a doctor takes a big lot of energy and you know I’m nothing if not totally focused on my work.”

“Your best and most exasperating quality,” she said fondly.

The receptionist cleared her throat. Loudly. She was obviously anxious to be introduced.

“Lucinda.” Ainsley obliged. “I’d like you to meet Ivan. Dr. Donovan, this is our receptionist and all-around right-hand, Lucinda Reilly.”

He offered a handshake. “I’m happy to meet you, Lucinda.”

“Likewise, I’m sure,” she replied, darting glances at Ainsley as she let her hand linger in his. “You should probably know I’m highly susceptible to cowboys and doctors.”

Ivan hadn’t had a serious relationship for a long time, but he recognized an overture when it shook his hand. “If only I’d brought my lasso or my stethoscope,” he said.

“Don’t be fooled, Luce.” Ainsley took Ivan’s arm. “He’s no match for you when it comes to flirtation.” She looked up at him, raising her eyebrows in mock warning. “Stay away from her, Ivan. She’s the kind of woman your mother warned you about.”

“Hey, no fair,” Lucinda protested good-naturedly. “I didn’t even get to ask him if he likes to dance.” Her saucy I’m available smile winged his way once again. “I’m a sucker for any guy who knows his way around a dance floor, too.”

“Or any other kind of floor,” Ainsley said. “Don’t trust her, Ivan. She’ll only break your heart.”

Ivan grinned, liking Lucinda’s naughty-but-nice routine and loving the suggestion that Ainsley—even in jest—thought he needed to be protected from her. “I’m the original klutz on the dance floor,” he said with an air of regret. “Never even learned how to hokeypokey.”

Ainsley pointed a silencing finger at the receptionist. “Do not even think what you’re thinking,” she said. “And he is much too innocent to hear it said aloud.”

Lucinda laughed. “He doesn’t look innocent,” she said, reverting to a precisely professional voice as the phone rang.

“Oh, but he is.” Ainsley tugged on his arm. “Come on. I want to show you my office. Can you believe it? I have an office!”

“So your brother mentioned.” Ivan winked at Lucinda as he happily allowed Ainsley to lead him away. Busy on the telephone, the receptionist still managed to reply with a saucy wave of her fingers.

“And it has a view.”

“Matt also mentioned the particularly stunning view.”

She wrinkled her nose at him. “Oh, what does Matt know? He thinks I’m still six years old and playing Barbie Goes to the Office.”

He’d almost forgotten how cute she was. Even at thirteen, with braces on her teeth and a body that was gangly and awkward, Ainsley had been captivating. Silver-blond curls, blue eyes, dimples and an infectious giggle put her firmly in the adorable little sister category. Ivan had never known exactly why she’d so readily adopted him as a beloved older brother. Maybe it had been because Andrew often went traveling with their parents that year, while she’d been left behind to “improve her studies.” Or because Matt had gone to college and wasn’t there every day to fill the role of big brother. Or because Miranda was absorbed in her last year of high school and was impatient with the burden of being both mother and sister to them all. Probably it had been all of those reasons put together, plus more.

Whatever the reason, Ainsley had told Ivan—after he’d visited Danfair only a few times—that he would be her extra brother, and that’s the way she’d treated him ever since. It was a role he’d accepted with particular delight, teasing her as he would have teased his own kid sister, Emma, had she lived to be thirteen.

“You look very…professional,” he said to Ainsley, realizing that she did look quite grown-up in her azure blue suit, filling it out in a way he did not want to notice. He suddenly caught himself assessing the length of her skirt with a critical eye and checking the deep V of her blouse. She was showing a bit too much skin in both directions, but—extra brother or not—he knew better than to point it out. “This is a different, uh, style for you, isn’t it?”

“I didn’t think knickers and Little Mermaid T-shirts were quite right for meeting with clients.” Her dimples made another appearance. “I know it’s difficult for you and Matt to believe, but I’m not a little girl anymore.” She stepped inside a large, lovely room and flung out an arm to encompass it all. “This is it. My office.”

He took his time, walked about, looked carefully at the little touches that made this space distinctively hers. The photographs—all shapes, all sizes, all in heavy silver frames. The candles, scenting the room while casting a warm glow over the expensive furnishings. The not-quite-neat stacks of files on her desk. The colors—sunny, bright and cheerful. All of it reflected the exuberance of Ainsley. And yet, it was definitely a woman’s space, and not what he’d expected at all.

“I like your office,” Ivan said. “What do you do here?”