The Surgeon's Cinderella

Whitney wasn’t sure she agreed with his reasoning but she didn’t need him bad-mouthing her around town. She’d taken Tanner on as a client to increase her professional profile, not to hurt it. Plus, she hated that he was in a spot.

If she agreed to his demand she couldn’t imagine the weekend being anything but long and miserable. She didn’t belong in his social group. She was an outsider. Tanner wanted someone who could make a good impression. More than once she’d been judged by her looks. He needed someone who could influence. That wasn’t her. She was good with people one on one but not as a member of a house party. To run in Tanner’s world...

“I’ll pick you up at nine in the morning. What’s your address?”

“Tanner, I can’t do this.”

“Oh, yes, you can,” he all but hollered down the phone.

He wasn’t going to allow her a way out. Apprehension bubbled in Whitney as she gave him her address.

“You’ll need a cocktail dress, swimsuit and casual clothes.” There was a click on the other end of the line. Tanner had hung up. Once again.

Whitney lay there. What had just happened? She’d just gotten press-ganged into a weekend with Tanner as his “plus one.” What was he thinking? What was she doing?

Those bubbles combined into a heavy mass of dread in her chest. She wasn’t part of Tanner’s world. What if she made a mistake and embarrassed him?

If she had really changed from that insecure girl from years ago it was time to prove it.

CHAPTER THREE (#ub84c3442-64bf-59bc-98c4-4b9860c92493)

TANNER DIDN’T KNOW what had gotten into him when he’d insisted that Whitney join him on this weekend retreat. He had been so angry when Racheal had called and told him that she wouldn’t be going that he’d picked up the phone and dialed Whitney’s number without a thought. But to insist she attend a weekend with him might have been overreacting. Desperation had fueled his demand. He needed a woman on his arm.

Well, it was done now.

For him to have a “significant other” with him for the weekend was an unwritten requirement. Besides, he might have hinted to one or two of the board members that he’d become serious about someone. It mustn’t look like he’d been lying or he could kiss that promotion goodbye.

He pulled his car to the curb in front of Whitney’s home. To his surprise, he’d known the address. She lived in one of the famous “painted ladies.” Whitney stood waiting in front of a light blue Victorian row house with a yellow door and white gingerbread trimmings. Pink flowers grew in pots on the steps. The house was an obvious reflection of Whitney. He’d always liked these old homes. Something about them said life was peaceful inside.

Whitney looked small compared to the towering three-story home. His heart fell. This wasn’t good. She wore a full shirt that hung almost to her knees and underneath she wore baggy pajama-style pants and flat slippers. Her hair was pulled back into a bun. Whitney couldn’t have looked more nondescript if she had tried. He really couldn’t force her to dress better, or could he?

Stepping out of the car, Tanner went to the trunk and opened it.

Whitney joined him with her bags in her hand. “Tanner, I think we should really reconsider this idea.”

“I’ve already done that a couple of times and I don’t see another way. I need a girlfriend for this weekend and you are it.” Even if her sense of style was missing.

Uncertainty filled her eyes. “This type of thing really isn’t me.”

“You’ll be fine. Sitting by the pool and reading all day works for me. I just need you to attend the dinner this evening and tomorrow evening and all will be good.”

She didn’t look any more enthused but she let him take her bags and climbed into the car.

Yet again he felt bad about insisting she come with him, but he needed her. The board members would be at this retreat and he had to give them the impression he was getting close to settling down. “Do you mind if I put the top down? It’s a beautiful day.”

“Not at all. I love a convertible.”

Tanner leaned over her to unlock the roof from the windshield. A floral scent that fit her perfectly assaulted his nose. Maybe the weekend wouldn’t be so bad. He flipped the other lock above his head. When he pushed a button, the roof slowly folded down behind them.

“I like your car. It suits you,” Whitney said.

“Thanks. I grew up wanting one of these and when I finished medical school I bought one.”

“I’ve always loved two-seaters. I’m going to enjoy riding in this one.” She gave him a weak smile.

So at least they had that in common. As Tanner started the car, Whitney pulled a long multicolored scarf out of her purse. With deft efficiency she wrapped it around her head and tied it under her chin. Great, now he had Old Mother Hubbard with him. Why did she dress like she did?