Finding the Perfect Man Read online

  Finding the Perfect Man

  Copyright © 2013 by Marie Higgins

  Cover Design by Sheri McGathy

  The characters and events portrayed in these books are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Edition License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

  Dedication

  I want to dedicate this story to my husband, Scott, because for some strange reason, he calls me his pretty lady, and I think it’s very romantic! Gotta love it, right?

  I want to acknowledge my good friend, Veronica Mesia, for her wonderful talent of finding the errors in my stories. You are awesome, woman.

  Unwilling to let another man control her life, Dr. Jordan Reed hires Brock Hamill to portray her new love interest to satisfy her nagging stepmother. Part of the bargain is that the new man convinces her ex-boyfriend that Jordan has happily moved on. Unfortunately, it’s hard to prove when Brock blames Jordan for his sister’s suicide and embarks on a mission to destroy her psychiatric credibility. Acting the part of a patient, his mission is deterred by the doctor’s sweetness and giving heart, and when he discovers her life is in jeopardy, he’s willing to reveal his true identity to save her. Will Jordan forgive his deceit when she learns the truth?

  ONE

  Doctor Jordan Reed squinted, adjusting her eyes to the dimly lit bar. The Standard Examiner lay opened in front of her as she scanned the advertisement.

  Woman seeking man for business partner. Must be charming and witty. Must be between thirty and forty-five and have acting ability. Call 1-303-777-0001 to arrange interview.

  Jordan’s heart sank and her stomach twisted in knots. “No! Erica, what have you done?” With a groan she slumped forward, banged her forehead on the table and let it rest on the opened newspaper. “Why? Why? Why?” she muttered.

  Sitting across the table, Erica patted Jordan’s hand. “Don’t be mad at me. It’ll work out. I promise.”

  “This ad makes me look desperate.” Jordan shook her head. Her forehead crinkled against the paper. “Then again, maybe I am. I should be the patient instead of the psychiatrist.”

  Erica laughed. “Will you stop worrying? I told you, everything will be just fine.”

  Jordan raised her head just enough to look at her friend. Yeah right. “How many people do you think are going to read this ad? How many people will actually take it seriously? I mean, what kind of woman seeks a man’s help by taking out an ad in the newspaper, especially in my profession? That’s what people are going to think...and don’t say they won’t.”

  Erica shrugged her thin shoulders. “You’ve been hurt. People will understand…at least the right people will. And I don’t think you need help. All you need is—” She bit her bottom lip and drew her brows together.

  Jordan straightened and looked at her friend. “What do I need?”

  The corner of Erica’s mouth lifted into a smirk. “It’s like I told you before, all you need is a social life. You need to start meeting men. That will cure all your problems.”

  “Good grief.” Jordan rolled her eyes and thumped her head back on the table. Pain exploded like a cannon in her skull. She yelped and grabbed her head.

  Erica touched Jordan’s hand. “Are you all right?”

  “I will be after my head stops pounding.”

  Erica chuckled and scooted across her seat. “I’m going to get our drinks. What do you want?”

  “Nothing. I need a clear head to finish the work day, especially now that I’ve seen the havoc you’ve caused.”

  “Okay, no alcohol. How about soda and water?”

  “That’s fine.”

  Jordan worked her hands between her head and the newspaper and massaged her aching skull. How could it have come to this? Sure, Erica was only thinking about Jordan, but to actually put an ad in the newspaper? Still, desperate times called for desperate measures. Didn’t they? She’d been without a man since Kenneth left. Kenneth, the man she thought she’d spend the rest of her life with. The man who shattered her heart and left it in crumbled pieces around her feet when he married her wealthy stepmother. They were coming for Christmas, and Jordan didn’t know how to tell her stepmother to leave her dopey husband at home. Jordan didn’t want to see Kenneth at all, and worse than that, she definitely didn’t want him to see her without a man.

  As much as she wanted to yell and cuss at her secretary for placing the ad, Jordan had to admit hiring someone to portray her boyfriend wasn’t such a bad idea. Especially since she was running out of time—and options.

  Erica was correct in thinking Jordan needed a social life. She did. Unfortunately, she didn’t have time. Or to be more precise, she didn’t make time.

  Humiliation spread through her at the thought of Kenneth discovering how much he’d hurt her two years ago. Especially after he laughed in her face and told her she’d never have another relationship. Then again, he always thought he was God’s gift to women. Oh how she wished her stepmother hadn’t gone against Jordan’s advice and married the jerk anyway. Not that she blamed her stepmother. Kenneth had been so conniving and convincing. It made Jordan ill just to think of it.

  A warm hand touched her shoulder, before the intoxicating scent of male spice lured her from her thoughts. “Excuse me, Miss. Are you all right?”

  Why did everyone ask her that? Did she look and act like she had something wrong with her?

  She huffed, ready to get rid of the stranger any way she could, and raised her head. She sat up, turned toward the intruder, and opened her mouth to speak. The words faded…like her brain. It even took a minute to remember to breathe.

  He was absolutely gorgeous!

  His freshly-shaven, square jaw emphasized his slightly pointed nose and highlighted a beautiful smile. So dreamy! Even in the smoke-filled shadows of the bar, Charlie’s Passion, his dark hair grabbed her attention—cut short and slicked back, just the way she liked.

  His eyes hypnotized her. Because of the shadows, she couldn’t detect a color, but it was as if his wide, radiant eyes saw right through her. For a moment, she caught a glimpse of a wild wolf lurking in their depths.

  She shivered and blinked a few times to see if the image disappeared. Was she dreaming, or was there really a man so incredibly good-looking in this bar?

  “Miss? You all right?” he spoke again.

  His voice mentally shook her from her stupor. She nodded. “I was just...hmm, well...” She glanced down at the wrinkled paper. “I was reading the paper.”

  His smile widened, and he slid into the seat beside her. His eyes drifted to her head. “You were reading with your forehead?”

  She chuckled and rubbed the still smarting tender spot. He brushed her fingers away. Heat from his skin pierced through her like a lightning bolt.

  “There’s something on your forehead.” When he leaned closer, his rock-hard chest bumped her shoulder. Warmth spread through every limb right down to her toes. His raspberry colored tongue peeked over his lip, just as he slid his thumb across it. When he lifted his hand to rub off the mark, she couldn't take her eyes off his face. The liquid heat on his thumb burned her skin like molten lava, making her insides tremble.

  “The paper left its mark on you.”

  She swallowed hard. Not just the paper left its mark, so had he.


  He brought his hand down, brushed it against her cheek, and rested his elbow on the table. His upper body blocked her from any exit she might have planned. Although what woman in their right mind would want to leave with a hunk sitting so close? As strange as it seemed, this man roused something deep inside her, something she didn’t know existed. Something was definitely wrong with her.

  “What’s your name?” he asked.

  Her mind went blank. What was her name? “Uh…Jordan.” She cleared her throat. “Doctor Jordan Reed.”

  His dark brows lifted. “A doctor, eh? Well, it’s nice to meet you, Doc. I’m Rocky.”

  Oh baby…yes you are! She almost moaned aloud. He looked like a Rock, definitely built like a mountain. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Are you here alone?”

  “No, my friend went to get us some drinks.” She motioned her head in the other direction, but heaven help her, she couldn’t move her gaze. Focusing on anything but his eyes was not an option. He was just too good looking.

  “Do you come here often?”

  “No. I don’t usually come to these establishments, but my friend dragged me here during our lunch.”

  “That’s too bad. I was hoping to see you again.”

  As much as she wanted to see him again, she knew it just couldn’t happen. Gorgeous men like him trampled women’s hearts. No way did she want to be the next woman he broke.

  “I’m sorry.”

  He shrugged and moved out of the booth. “Hopefully, we’ll run into each other another time, then.”

  “You’ll never know.” She hoped to let him down as easy as possible. Then why did her heart sink? So he licked the ink off her forehead. Big deal. That didn’t mean they had a relationship.

  Taking a deep breath, she sat back in the seat. Erica was indeed correct to think Jordan needed a social life. Good grief, she couldn’t even carry on a conversation with a hunky man without getting tongue-tied.

  How pathetic did that make her—and at her age?

  * * * *

  Brock Hamill walked toward the bar. He balled his hands into fists at his side. That was her! He’d actually met the woman who killed his sister.

  Through the heavy scent of smoke mixed with alcohol, he still detected the intoxicating aroma of roses that seemed to hover around her. Was he crazy? Why did he have the urge to bury his face in her neck and breathe in her sweet fragrance?

  He stopped at the bar and leaned against it. Glancing at Todd, he nodded, silently expressing his normal order.

  “Hey, Rocky. You on the clock, man?”

  “No. You have the floor now,” he grumbled.

  Within minutes, a chilled bottle of water bumped against his hand. For two years now, he’d vowed not to drink alcohol. That crap made him say—and do things—that were not right. He needed a level head in his kind of business, anyway.

  He unscrewed the top and took a long swallow. Closing his eyes, he tilted his head back, trying not to think of his sister.

  Eighteen months ago, Emily had started seeing Doctor Jordan Reed. Four months later, she overdosed. Nineteen was such a young age to die.

  He looked back toward the booth he’d just left. The attractive doctor laughed at something her friend said. Didn’t that woman feel an ounce of remorse? His sister could have lived a happy life, too, but it had been taken from her.

  It wasn’t fair the psychiatrist continued practicing, luring other clients, only to give them false hopes. Dr. Reed didn’t care about them. She didn’t care about anything but the money she charged her patients.

  He gulped down another long swallow. There had to be some way to get her license revoked. There had to be some way he could ensure other clients, like Emily, didn’t end up with the same fate.

  Dr. Reed and her friend moved out of the booth and stood. The doctor glanced his way, before walking out the door. It surprised him how pretty she was, even though she’d pulled her hair back into a tight knot. But appearances didn’t matter...

  He snapped his shoulders back and straightened as an idea rooted itself in his mind. On second thought, appearances just might be the key to helping him obtain his goal, and with time, he’d have the good doctor’s license.

  TWO

  The ad ran in the paper for two days with no response. Even as disheartening as it was to think everyone who read it would take it as a joke, Jordan needed something to take her mind off her problems. Since the afternoon was slow, she pulled out her romance novel and sat on the couch in her office. Flipping to the page she’d left off last night, she relaxed and began to read.

  With each word she read, she could vividly picture herself as the heroine. One of the main reasons she read these books was to take her mind out of her everyday problems, whisking her away to a different land where she could fall in love over and over again. Where there was always a happy-ever-after.

  She flipped to the next page, fervent to read more of the exciting adventure the hero and heroine were taking, but the strident buzz of the speakerphone jarred her back to reality.

  “Dr. Reed? Your appointment is here.” Erica’s voice boomed on the other end.

  Jordan cleared her throat before responding. “I’ll be a few more minutes.”

  She sighed, closed the book and stood. She slipped on her low-heeled, gray shoes before making her way to the desk. She opened a bottom drawer and placed the romance novel where nobody could see it.

  Taking a quick glance in the wall mirror, she patted her hair into place, although she knew the bun was tighter than her grandmother’s knitting ball. She licked her lips, grateful the slash of pink lipstick looked bright and glossy.

  With a straight back, she walked around the desk as she stepped back into her professional role. A role she’d taken a few years to perfect. While she was in college, her father’s mental illness hadn’t left a good name for the family. She didn’t want people to think she was insane like her father had been before his death.

  She picked up the application of her newest client and slipped on her reading glasses. Brock Hamill, age thirty-six, engaged. His problem—emotionally upset over his fiancée’s recent infidelity.

  She recalled this man’s story from when he’d first called. Apparently, when Brock discovered his fiancée had been cheating, the rejection had ripped apart his whole world and left him feeling unworthy of love. This man concerned Jordan, because on the phone, Brock had talked about not having a reason to live.

  She knew the pain of losing someone who had mental issues. She didn’t want anyone to have to go through what Jordan had when her father died, and when she started helping a patient with suicidal thoughts, Jordan was determined to help this girl. If she could stop people from taking their own life, she would! She promised herself, when she set up her practice in Thompson Falls, Montana two years ago, that she’d do everything in her power to help these people. Unfortunately, she hadn’t been able to keep that promise because her client had taken her young life. Jordan refused to lose another client to suicide.

  Emily’s circumstance still left a hole in Jordan’s heart, and because of that, Jordan was determined to help people like Brock. She’d make him see the importance of his life—without his cheating fiancée.

  His last name caught her attention. Hamill? Could he possibly be related to Emily?

  Shaking her head, she dismissed the thought. Hamill was a popular last name here in Thompson Falls.

  She slipped on the white lab jacket and hurried to meet her patient. When she opened the door and glimpsed at Brock Hamill, her heart went out to him. The poor man looked miserable. His short, black hair appeared uncombed, and dark stubble covered his chin. A red plaid flannel shirt, several sizes too large and buttoned off kilter, hung from his shoulders. His pitiful baggy jeans could have been a reject from a second-hand store. A piece of masking tape held his outdated, thick-rimmed eyeglasses together at the bridge of his nose.

  Pathetic man! His droopy, hangdog expression tugged at her hear
t.

  She smiled and extended her hand. “Hello. I’m Doctor Reed.”

  The man didn’t smile, but gave her a curt nod when he shook her hand.

  “Please come in, Mr. Hamill.”

  She motioned for him to go inside first then followed, closing the door behind them. He stood in the middle of the room, his gaze darting to the flowery decorations and the hardwood floor. His attention moved to the ceiling fan mounted spotlight, to the bust of Dr. Sigmund Freud on a tall pedestal, then to the walls holding her diplomas and certificates. Finally, his gaze dropped to the brown leather matching couches.

  “I suppose you want me to sit there.” He pointed to the lounge chair.

  “Only if that’s where you’d feel most comfortable.”

  He shrugged then moved to another couch and sat. “Thank you for meeting with me on such short notice.”

  Along with a mini voice recorder, Jordan picked up her notepad and pen and sat in the heavily cushioned chair next to the lounge. “That’s no problem at all.”

  He glanced at the recorder. “What’s that for?”

  “I record our sessions. Then I can go over our discussions later.” She paused and asked, “Do you mind?”

  “Doesn’t matter.” He transferred his gaze from her face to the entwined fingers in his lap. “I feel rather stupid coming to you, but the word around town is that you’re an excellent doctor.” He stole a brief glance at her, before looking away.

  “I do all I can to help my clients, Mr. Hamill.”

  He nodded.

  She waited for him to speak. Several silent moments passed, as he toyed with the bottom of his shirt. With his gaze downcast, he stared at his unevenly buttoned shirt.

  He chuckled awkwardly and fixed the buttons before looking at her. “I guess I wasn’t paying attention when I dressed this morning.”

  She kept her smile. “That’s understandable.”

  He sighed heavily and seemed to relax, as he sank back into the cushions of the couch. “Well,” he began, “what do you want to know?”