The Perfect Christmas by Debbie Macomber Page B

be left-brain geniuses.”
    “Children.” Overwhelmed with excitement she grasped Simon’s hand.
    “Restrain yourself, please.”
    “Oh, Simon, loosen up a little, would you?”
    He looked at her coldly, as though her comment didn’t merit a response.
    “Has John asked about me?”
    He nodded.
    Rubbing her palms together, she blurted out, “And what did you say?” After asking, she quickly changed her mind. “No, don’t tell me—I’d rather not know.”
    “It wasn’t unflattering, if that’s what you’re implying.”
    This was promising. “Really?”
    “Are you looking for compliments, Cassie?”
    “No…well, maybe.” Then, because she was curious and she couldn’t resist, she asked, “Do you like me, Simon?”
    He regarded her for a moment, as though carefully weighing his response. “Not particularly. Wait—let me rephrase that. I don’t have any feelings for you whatsoever. Except for the appropriate reactions of a professional toward his client, of course.”
    What would it have cost him to smile and say something nice? “You really are a dolt.”
    He stiffened. “I beg your pardon?”
    “You heard me. You know, if you smiled more often you might look human. You’re supposed to be a psychologist—haven’t you heard that a smile is a positive way of interacting?”
    “I don’t see any reason to—”
    “Forget it. You are who you are, and I am who I am.”
    “That was profound.” He seemed to be making fun of her.
    Cassie didn’t care. Simon was a means to an end, and if he found her a decent man she could love for the rest of her life, then it didn’t matter if he liked her or not.
    “When can I complete the second task?” she asked, eager to hurry the process along. From the sound of it, John was equally excited about meeting her.
    “I’m making the final arrangements next week. I’ll be in touch as soon as everything’s set.”
    “Okay.” Cassie finished her latte and dabbed at the crumbs left over from her shortbread cookies. “You’re not very good at relationships, are you? Personally, I mean, not professionally.”
    Acting as if she hadn’t spoken, Simon shoved back his chair and seemed about to leave. “As I said earlier, I’ll be in touch.”
    “Before you go, I’d like to ask how you came to this line of work.”
    “You already know I don’t answer personal questions. This isn’t about me.”
    “But it is.”
    “ Au contraire. You came to me for services rendered. Do you interrogate your dentist about his background—or private life?”
    “No, but—”
    “You let him do his job and you walk away satisfied when he’s finished. It’s the same with me, or it should be. I perform a service, nothing more. I’m good at what I do and I enjoy my work.”
    “Always?”
    “Some matches are more difficult than others. Some clients more trying.” He looked pointedly in her direction.
    “At least you can take comfort from knowing that once I meet John, you won’t ever need to see me again.”
    “Yes, there is that…?.”
    Cassie couldn’t help it; she burst out laughing.
    Simon seemed genuinely puzzled. “Why is that funny?”
    “It wouldn’t have been if you hadn’t been so honest about it. You’ll be happy to get rid of me, won’t you?”
    He stood and tossed his empty coffee container in the proper receptacle. “You did very well today, Cassie.”
    For a moment, she thought her ears had deceived her. “Was that a compliment, an actual compliment, from the great Dr. Simon Dodson?”
    “Not really,” he said soberly. “It was a statement offact. The truth is, I didn’t expect you to last all four hours. You surprised me.”
    “I want to meet John,” she told him, disregarding the implied insult in his words.
    “So I gathered, and soon you shall.”
    Ten minutes later, they left Starbucks together and exchanged civil goodbyes.
    Cassie could hardly wait to get back to her condo so she could talk to Angie. The minute she’d showered and