Satisfaction Guaranteed(8)

I smile deep inside my soul. May ours be the next great deal he inks here.

The hostess shows us to a booth near the back, tells Doug she’ll transfer the tab, then hands us the wine list.

As he scans the offerings, Doug clears his throat. “How do you think things are going with the practice? Did everything go well when I was at the conference this week?”

“Everything was great. We’re running at top levels of efficiency and client care,” I say, since that was one of my goals when he made me a junior partner—give our patients the time they deserve, but don’t make the next appointment have to wait too long. “The staff is great. Jonathan and Sam are top-notch at moving the day along.”

Could this conversation be going any better? This is clearly the start to the next chapter in our clinic.

“I couldn’t agree more. And you’ve done an amazing job in seven years,” he says, and the mention of the time frame is a sharp reminder of what started and ended seven years ago when I spotted the photo of Sloane on his desk at my job interview. When he told me, Don’t get any ideas.

I wiped all ideas out of my head then.

The waiter pops by and asks if we want a drink.

“A bottle of your best cabernet sauvignon,” Doug says with the kind of authority a silver fox can command.

Mentally, I pump a fist. Doug loves red. It’s his celebration drink of choice. He always gets the best red to deliver the best news.

The waiter tells us he’ll be right back, and Doug returns seamlessly to the conversation. “As I was saying, you’ve done a hell of a lot. Your father would be proud of you. You know that, right?”

“I do.”

“And I want you to have all the things you’ve been working toward.”

Damn, I won’t be able to contain my excitement if it keeps on like this.

The waiter brings the wine and uncorks it. He pours a small amount into a fat glass. Doug picks it up and tastes, then declares it fantastic. The waiter pours some for me, sets down menus, and leaves.

Doug raises a glass. “Let’s toast.”

Fuck yeah.

I raise mine, waiting for him to make the next move.

He lifts his glass higher, and we clink. “To another year together.”

All the air leaks out of me. “Excuse me?” I stumble on my words.

“Let’s drink to one more year.”

“Oh. Well. I thought you were retiring? You’ve cut back your hours significantly. You’ve been talking about retiring.” All the freaking time.

“You’re eager to see me go?” He arches one brow.

I shake my head quickly, needing to cover up any enthusiasm I might have shown. “No, I just thought, well, since you’re not there as much, and you’ve been playing golf more . . .”

“There’s plenty of life in this old dog. The ticker is strong.” He taps his sternum. “Energizer Bunny and all. Must be all the horizontal activity I partake in. It’s good cardio, you know. Keeps a man young and fit.”

I groan inside. “I’m sure,” I say, doing my best to present a cheery front.

“In any case, we’ve got another year together, and I’m confident this year will be the best one.”

“Why’s that?” I’m strangling on my own fucking shock. This is not how tonight was supposed to go.

“Because my daughter, Sloane, is going to be working with us.”





7





Sloane Elizabeth’s Voice Memo to Self on ARE YOU KIDDING ME?



Be cool.

Be calm.

The man is helping in the most amazing way.

Lord knows, you need it now. You need it for the cats and the dogs and your own damn dreams. He’s making them possible.

Just walk into dinner like the strong, sharp, kick-ass woman you are. Be grateful, be humble, and don’t let on to Daddy that you want to bang his business partner.

Darling Daddy would not like that for his sweet, innocent daughter.

Sigh. That’s how daddies see their little girls.

You are so not innocent.

Not with the thoughts you’ve been having.





8





Perhaps I am dense.

Maybe I’m clueless.

Certainly, my ex-girlfriend Lucy tried to hang the clueless gold chain around my neck. The time she dragged me to Bed Bath & Beyond to shop for towels then asked which ones I liked for our apartment.

I’d flinched. “Our apartment? But we don’t live together.”

She’d rolled her eyes and flashed a knowing smile. “Why else did you think I wanted to take you towel shopping? You’re so adorably clueless.”

At that point, I picked up on her clues loud and clear, and nixed things before she made a copy of my key and moved in late at night while I was sleeping.

But this seems a little different than Lucy’s off-hand comment. This seems like maybe, in retrospect, I might have jumped the gun.

Still, all the signs pointed to Doug telling me he wanted me to take over the practice, not him telling me his gorgeous, smart, sexy daughter is evidently going into business with us.

Talk about whiplash.

He gestures toward the door. “I think you’ve met once or twice, and I invited Sloane to join us tonight.”