The Surgeon's Cinderella

That was what her matchmaking was all about. So why couldn’t she do that for herself?

* * *

Two days later, Whitney answered the phone.

“We need to talk.”

Whitney didn’t have to question who she was speaking to. She knew that voice at the first roll of a vowel. This time it wasn’t warm and creamy. It was icy and sharp.

“Tanner, is something wrong?” She kept her voice low and even. She didn’t often have to talk a client down after a social or a date.

“Michelle won’t do. We need to meet again. Bring that file.”

Whitney stiffened. She wasn’t one of his OR nurses to be ordered around. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t have time to talk about it now.”

And he thinks I do?

“Let me see. How about the coffeehouse on Market Street tomorrow morning around nine?”

“I have surgery then. Could you come to the hospital in about an hour?”

What? She wasn’t at his beck and call. She’d already gone out of her way for him once and now he wanted her to drop what she was doing and drive downtown. “I don’t know. That isn’t how I like to conduct business. I thought you didn’t want anyone to know you were using my services. Aren’t you afraid someone might ask you questions?”

“They might but I don’t have to answer. Whitney, it would really help me out if you could come here. I’m tied up with cases but I’d really like to get this other stuff rolling along.”

Other stuff rolling along.

Was that how he thought of the woman who would share the rest of his life? She was glad she didn’t fit his list.

Unfortunately, she didn’t really have a good excuse why she couldn’t help him out. “Okay, but I won’t be doing this again.”

“Great. Just give me a call when you get here.” He hung up.

Tanner hadn’t even said goodbye. It was time to have a heart-to-heart with him about whether or not he was really interested in doing the work needed to find a soul mate.

The traffic was light so she made good time going up and down the hills of San Francisco. The city could be difficult to drive in but the views of the bay made it worth it. She was just sorry a streetcar didn’t run close enough to the hospital for her to take one of those.

She found a parking spot in the high-rise lot next to the hospital. Crossing the street, she entered the towering hospital. In the lobby, she pulled out her phone and called Tanner’s number. Never in her wildest dreams would she ever have imagined having it at her fingertips. She and Tanner didn’t move in the same circles and never would.

He answered as he had before. There was an arrogance to how he responded but the crisp sound of his last name seemed to suit him.

“It’s Whitney.”

“Hey.” His tone changed as if he was glad to hear from her. She liked that idea too much. Obviously since he’d gotten his way he had calmed down. “From the main lobby door continue down the long hallway to the second bank of elevators on your right. They’ll be about halfway down the hall. Take one of them. Come up to the fifth floor. I’ll meet you at the elevator.”

Tanner didn’t wait for her to answer before closing the connection. That she wasn’t as accepting of. She’d rather be told goodbye.

Whitney found the bank of elevators and took the next available car. At the correct floor she stepped off. As good as his word, Tanner stood there, talking to another man also dressed in scrubs. When he saw her he left the man and strolled over to her.

He was the epitome of the tall, dark and handsome doctor. He still had the looks that drew women’s attention. What had happened between him and Michelle she couldn’t fathom.

Michelle had called yesterday morning all but glowing about the social and the date they’d had the night before. How she could have seen it as being so wonderful while Tanner was so unhappy was a mystery to Whitney.

“Thanks for coming.” Tanner ran his hand over his hair. “I know it wasn’t what you wanted to do. I had to come in last night to do an emergency surgery. I just couldn’t get away today. I have one more patient to see. Would you mind hanging out for a little bit?”

If he’d asked her that in college she might have fainted. Now Whitney only saw him as a man who needed her services. “Sure. I wouldn’t mind watching what you do. It might help me better understand you, which would assist me in matching you.”

“All business, all the time.”

“You’re one to be talking,” she quipped.

He grinned. “You’re not the first person to say that. After I see this patient we’ll go to my office to talk.”

They walked down a hall until they came to double doors. Tanner scanned a card and the doors opened from the middle out. They entered a hallway with patients’ rooms. He stopped at the third doorway along the passage. “This is Mr. Wilcox. Let me get permission for you to come in.”

“I don’t mind waiting out here.”

Tanner touched her arm when she started to move to the other side of the hall. A zing of awareness traveled up her arm. “He’s rather lonely. He’d like to have the company. See a face that has nothing to do with the hospital.”

That was a side of Tanner she hadn’t expected. Compassion beyond the medicine. “Then I’ll be glad to say hi.”

Tanner raised his hand to knock on the door but turned back to her. “He has a lot of pumps and drips hooked to him. That stuff doesn’t bother you, does it?”

She smiled. “No, I promise not to faint or stare.”

“Good.” Tanner appeared pleased with her answer. Had other women he’d known acted negatively to what he did for a living? He knocked on the door and stuck his head around it. There was a rumble of voices, then Tanner waved her toward him.

“We’ll need to wear masks.” He pulled a yellow paper one from a box on a table outside the door and handed it to her before entering the room. She followed.

Mr. Wilcox was about her father’s age, but his skin was an ash gray. Beside him was a bank of machines with lights. There was a whish of air coming from one. A clear rubber tube circled both the man’s ears and came around to fit under his nose.

“Mr. Wilcox, I brought you a visitor,” Tanner said.

The man’s dull eyes brightened for a second as he looked at her.

“Whitney Thomason, I’d like you to meet Jim Wilcox.”

“Nice to meet you, young lady,” Mr. Wilcox wheezed as he raised a hand weakly toward her.

“You too, Mr. Wilcox.” Whitney stepped closer to the bed.

“So how’re you feeling?” Tanner asked, leaning forward, concern written on his face.

Whitney was impressed with the lower timbre of his voice, which sounded as if he truly wished to know. She could grow to admire this Tanner.

“Oh, about the same. This contraption—” Mr. Wilcox nodded toward the swishing machine beside him “—is keeping me alive but I’m still stuck in this bed.”