The Doctor and the Matchmaker--A Clean Romance Page 3

  “Right,” she drawled.

  “It was a month. I expected us to correspond longer than three weeks. What’s the hurry?” Wade asked. He’d been surprised when Brisa as Reyna had asked him when they could meet for coffee.

  “Gramps, this is not the 1800s, no one has time for correspondence. No one wants to be texting back and forth for months. That delay? Boom. Sean makes his move,” Brisa muttered.

  “Well, I live in Miami now. I’ll have a permanent address this week, as soon as you hand me the keys.” Wade wanted to observe her reaction. He’d made a snap decision. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done so.

  “At Concord Court?” Brisa asked, a small breathless squeak on the end. “Oh.” Her brow furrowed deeper. “That’s...” Her voice trailed off. She didn’t know the word to put in there. He didn’t, either.

  Wade had a plan for Miami. When his newly married ex had moved here with his daughter, it had been a challenge, but he lined up a job at the hospital after his Navy retirement. He and Vanessa had worked out a shared custody plan, and after years of too short, too infrequent visits while he was stationed overseas, he could see his daughter every day. No more time zone challenges or unreliable technology or the weird space between them that grew over time and distance. He would build a home for his daughter. With his daughter. Concord Court would be the place to start.

  “Your father made a big sales pitch on the place. I told him no.” He had, at first, but he was reevaluating his answer. “I have a job, so there’s no need for me to take up a slot someone else could use, but he insisted on me coming to the party tonight to see what Concord Court offered.”

  “And what do you think?” Brisa asked. Wade felt the twitch of his lips. She was concerned about his reaction to her project. That was dedication.

  “I’m impressed.” He was. How could he not be? “It’s a good support for so many men and women. There’s a whole community of people who need time to get their feet under them when they’re first resuming civilian life.”

  She relaxed a bit. “Good. That’s good. You know things are delicate right now, with my father and Reyna and what will happen. If you were to tell either one of them about our introduction, I’m afraid it might...” She bit her lip, an expression so powerful Wade had a hunch she’d used it often enough to know its effect.

  “I’m clear on your problem and everything I can do to make it worse,” Wade drawled. “What you don’t understand is that I have my own problem. It would be smart to ask me how you might help if you’d like my support.”

  Brisa blinked as if she’d never expected that.

  “A date? I could find you a date?” she said slowly. “I mean, that’s your problem, right?”

  Boiled down to the simplest terms, it was. Was he about to expand on his plan, to complete her understanding?

  She touched his hand. “Please let me help you. I am an excellent matchmaker.”

  He almost laughed. There was no way either one of them actually believed that.

  He studied her face, waiting for her to admit the truth.

  Her sigh brushed across his cheek, sweet and minty from her drink. “Except for you and Reyna, I have a good record.” The shift of her eyes to the left suggested she was lying.

  “You’ve matched how many happy couples?” Wade asked. The more they talked, the easier she was to read.

  She sniffed and waved her hand. “Oh, I don’t keep a running list.” Because there weren’t any of those couples. That was Wade’s guess. “I have friends, pretty friends who would be happy to go on a blind date with a doctor, are you kidding me?” She tapped a deep rose-colored fingernail against her chin. “Narrowing down who to ask will be the problem.”

  Wade watched her think. “I know! She’s perfect. I mean, you don’t have a problem spending December in Aspen, do you? That’s kind of a cute quirk, demanding snow for Christmas.” Brisa held out her phone and then started scrolling through photos. “Let me do a better job of selling Jill.”

  Wade stared up at the dark sky as he pondered her words. The whole month of December in Aspen or a cute trip for a ski holiday? Weren’t the holidays better at home anyway? That’s what he’d always pictured, being able to hang stockings in the same place and putting the tree next to the window every year.

  He wasn’t sure, but he’d told himself those roots made everything better. This move to Miami was his shot at proving it.

  Wade reached into his pocket and pulled out his own phone as Brisa held hers up with a flourish. “Tell me you don’t want to buy this beauty dinner. I’ll make reservations. I know a place that’s booked for months, and the owner owes me a favor.”

  Wade paused his search through his own phone to study the photo Brisa had found. Jill was stunning, of course.

  “Is that a real person?” he asked. She was wearing a fur vest, fuzzy boots, and all of it was white. He wasn’t sure if the background was Aspen, but there were horses and snowdrifts.

  “Yes, she’s a model. A successful one.” Brisa winced. “Or she was the last time we crossed paths. Was it Paris or New York?”

  “So, you’re close, then,” Wade said dryly as he held up his own phone. “I want to be matched with someone like her.” He tapped the screen and she spotted Reyna’s picture. “Not a model. A real person who has a serious job and reasonable expectations of travel plans.”

  “Models are real.” Her lips thinned. “I have modeled, thank you very much. I am real, Wade.” Then she sat back. “But I get what you mean. A woman with purpose, one with an important job, who pays her own bills and not by posing. Got it.”

  He should argue. He wanted to. Why did preferring that type of woman make him a jerk in this instance? Brisa’s shoulders had slumped as if he’d hurt her, the most beautiful woman he’d ever met, and he honestly couldn’t figure out why.

  “Dating apps are a nightmare. If you can find me a match using old-fashioned compatibility, we’re even. That website? It’s awful. So many options to choose from, and all terrible. No one talks. The pictures are fake or filtered. Down-to-earth. Easy to talk to. That’s what I want. I won’t mention the ad or the communication through Military Match to Reyna or your father.” He wouldn’t have anyway. What would have been the point? But Brisa had been afraid he would do that, so he wanted to reassure her.

  Brisa relaxed again. On the surface, his ask was simple. Perhaps he should give her all the facts.

  “I have a daughter. Your father wants me to be the example at Concord Court of vets who have families.” Until tonight, Wade had no intention of being anyone’s spokesperson, but the promise of making one element of his move to Miami simple was suddenly extremely appealing. Reyna was spoken for, reopening the frustrating search for a solid relationship prospect. If Concord Court met the basics and wasn’t solidly depressing as military housing could be, it would cross one thing off his list, leaving more time for his daughter and his job. “Anything Concord Court can do to make the transition back to full-time family life would be helpful. I’ll bring Thea with me for a tour of the facilities. If she approves, Concord Court will be my home for a while.”

  “We do have a list of requirements, a vetting process, you know?” Brisa tipped her chin up. “We tell you when you can move in.”

  He met the requirements. A job or enrollment in school. The end. Her father had been proud about how easy they made it to get support. “Right. I should talk to Luis, make sure I understood everything he expected.”

  Her eyes narrowed. Calling on her father was a mistake if he wanted Brisa Montero to like him.

  Did he want her to like him? She’d lied to him and wanted him to keep her secret for no other reason than to be a nice guy.

  None of that mattered. He did. He was. He wanted her to like him. That was something he’d need to watch.

  “My daughter’s opinion matters to me. Veterans themselves ar
en’t the only ones adjusting to a new life in these cases. You must know that. Concord Court could help with expanding services to support families with children and I’m all for that.” She loved the place. His final point would seal the deal.

  Brisa didn’t argue. “Monday afternoon. We’ll show you around. Not a word to Reyna about any of the rest of this.” She held her hand out to shake.

  Her hand was warm but delicate in his as he agreed. “Good.”

  “Do you have any other deal breakers? I mean, with respect to finding you the perfect match,” Brisa asked as she stood. Careful flicks of her feet sent drops of water splashing in the pool. Watching her attractive legs as she moved was dangerous. Wade shook his head to rattle his brain back into thinking rationally.

  “Really? None?” Brisa frowned as if she didn’t believe him. “Another Reyna. You want someone with military background, obviously. Why sign up for Military Match otherwise?”

  Because he’d been searching for the woman who wanted him, one who was prepared to deal with his former and current life. That was the most important piece. Could he explain that to Brisa?

  “A woman who has served will understand the challenges of making this relationship work. This second marriage needs to last, and I want someone who’s prepared to go the distance.” There. That made sense without being sad. Wade stood and tried to repeat Brisa’s beautiful move to shake water off her foot, but had to settle for two quick kicks. She picked up her sandals.

  “Military service preferable but not required, then.” Brisa frowned. “You’re so sure you’re complicated, only another veteran can understand? We’ve all got issues, Wade.”

  Her easy dismissal was irritating. His experience wasn’t the same as other men and women who’d served. No two were alike, but they all shared experiences, some very bad. Whether they were deployed into war zones or provided support to those who were, the demands took a toll. Those demands had broken his marriage and he’d fallen right into a bottle. Brisa wouldn’t speak so carelessly if she’d known anything other than the charmed life as the daughter of a wealthy man.

  But she’d braced one hand on his shoulder to slip on a sandal.

  Citrus teased his senses while her warm weight shifted against him. When both shoes were on, she straightened her shoulders. “Fine, but I don’t know enough retired female veterans. I’ll need your Military Match log-in. We’ll have to at least evaluate your options there. I’ll screen the possibilities for you.”

  “But you won’t be corresponding on my behalf.” Wade picked up his jacket. “That’s where this whole mess started.”

  Brisa grumbled, “No. Not for you. I wouldn’t know how.” Then she turned on a heel and headed for the door.

  Wade waited for her to hesitate there. She didn’t. She knew he’d follow her.

  He caught up to her at the elevator.

  “You know I’ll never be able to find someone like Reyna, right?” Brisa asked softly as they stepped into the modern glass elevator. The Sandpiper knew its strengths. Nothing impeded the view of the city or the ocean. “She’s one of a kind.”

  Wade watched the floor numbers as they descended to the lobby. “I haven’t met a woman yet who wasn’t one of a kind. Help me track down the one for me.”

  He watched her eyes widen. “I’ll do my best.” The elevator had stopped.

  Wade nodded and followed her through the lobby. It took longer than he expected because staff stopped her to ask about the service provided and the success of the party, and to give her reports on special accommodations she’d requested on behalf of some of her father’s guests. Through it all, Brisa was patient. Sweetly appreciative. She remembered employees’ names and what they’d done to help and mentioned that to the hotel manager who waited with her for a cab to pick her up.

  Wade watched it all. He opened the door to the cab for Brisa to slide in.

  Citrus was on the air as she said, “I’ll see you at Concord Court.”

  He nodded and closed the door. The last image he had of her before the cab pulled away was the look of exhaustion he’d spotted on the roof for a split second. Being Brisa Montero was harder than it appeared, he admitted, but she was determined to do the best she could.

  And so was he.

  CHAPTER THREE

  ON MONDAY BRISA shifted behind the desk at Concord Court and tried to pretend she was completely comfortable in the hot seat. This was going to be her job, her place, her career. Eventually. All she had to do was convince one more person she could handle it. Her father was doing that thing where he studied her so closely that she felt like bacteria under a microscope and not the good kind that might lead to a scientific breakthrough.

  Her sister was busy with the power of her own stare, poised on the edge of her seat. Brisa could tell she was ready to leap in front of whatever their father tossed in Brisa’s direction.

  “Postpone the small business lab. This is not the right time, even though I can’t argue that announcing it at the party with my biggest clients was the perfect hammer to use against me,” her father said, an annoyed frown on his forehead. “When I have more time, we’ll come back to this. All of us. Your concept has value, Brisa, no one can argue that.”

  Hearing her father give her credit for something valuable slowed Brisa’s response. Her father wasn’t saying she, Brisa, couldn’t handle it. He was asking to be included.

  Wasn’t he?

  His approval, even if it was cautious, was too sweet to speed through. His advice was almost identical to her sister’s. Reyna evaluated; Brisa went through life with her foot on the gas. It was frustrating to wait on what she knew was right.

  Reyna patted their father’s shoulder. “If I had to guess, your daughter is already halfway down the road to her first goal.” When their father turned to his oldest daughter, Reyna surprised her by saying, “She reminds me of you that way. You listen, you decide, and you don’t waver or look back.”

  Brisa cleared her throat and brushed down the khaki skirt she’d paired with the Concord Court polo. Wearing the official Luis Montero–approved uniform had been an easy olive branch to get them off on the right foot.

  But there he was, with his arched eyebrow.

  “I have done preliminary work. Marcus Bryant was a huge resource in that area. He’s a veteran here. Recently, he’s been pursuing going into the design and landscape business with a friend. Understanding his challenges was one place to start building this program to support other vets who’d like to start a business on their own.”

  “One vet. That’s your work on this?” Her father shrugged. “Good. Put it on hold, then.”

  “Show him the binder,” Reyna snapped.

  “How do you know I have a binder?” Brisa muttered as she reached down to pull it out of the tote bag she’d started carrying her first week at Concord Court.

  Brisa slid the binder across the spotless desk. Reyna and her father leaned forward to flip it open.

  “Phase one milestones,” Reyna read out loud and pointed to the heading in case her father had missed it.

  Brisa watched them scan the bullet points she’d written down. When the pain in her fingers caught her attention, she realized she’d tangled them too tightly together. Who did she think she was fooling with this binder anyway? She had no training, had never taken any business courses and had never graduated college. Starting a half dozen different businesses with no money and no goals in mind hadn’t prepared her for something the size of Concord Court or the magnitude of launching a lab to support veterans opening small businesses.

  “Funding sources,” Reyna read and tapped the page after their father had turned to a new one. “She understands that you start with the money, Dad. Isn’t that Montero philosophy?”

  That had been the downfall of every plan Brisa had launched on her own. She’d expected her father to support her with his money. She�
�d finally learned that wasn’t the answer.

  “Licensing, city, state and federal guidelines and resources,” Reyna read out loud and then scooted back in her seat.

  “It’s blank,” her father drawled, as if he’d expected to run into this.

  “I’m not moving forward without the resources in place,” Brisa said, wanting to reassure him that her priorities were the right ones.

  “Who are these resources?” her father asked and stretched back in his chair. Smugly satisfied. That’s what she called this position. He expected her to fail his test.

  “A lawyer. An accountant. Contacts at all the government levels.” Brisa had known this question was coming. She’d tried to answer it while dozing last night, mainly because it distracted her from the embarrassment and unease at having Wade McNally show up out of the blue as he had.

  Brisa pulled her hands apart and flexed her fingers slowly to return blood flow, while her father deliberated on what they’d said, his eyes locked on the binder.

  Eventually, he made his decision. “I want a written report on Friday afternoon, close of business. In it, you and Wakefield will summarize the week’s progress on the current ongoing projects and programs here at Concord Court. We will meet on Monday morning to make a list of priorities. There will be no more secret projects. At the end of that period, we will launch this together.” Then he motioned with his left hand. The “take it or leave it.” Brisa had decided on that name for it the day she’d told her father she’d married her high school boyfriend at the courthouse. His offer? Annul and pretend it never happened or leave his house and bankroll for good. Take it or leave it. Agreeing to her father’s offer never stood a chance against a cute boy who promised to always say yes.

  Leaving home at eighteen had been harder than she’d expected.

  Keeping a marriage alive to a boy who said yes to her, to his coworker at the bank, to their next-door neighbor and the bartender of his favorite hangout had been worse.

  Returning and asking for her father’s help at twenty-three had been even harder.