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They navigated the crowded room, trying to locate two empty seats.
“Over here, Matt, Brenda,” Jocelyn called.
“Thanks,” Brenda answered. “They have seats at Jocelyn’s table.”
Matt frowned, paused, and scanned the ballroom, desperate to find available seats at any other table.
Seeing none, he smiled. “All right.”
Once they reached the table, he held out a chair for Brenda then sat next to her, swallowing a sigh when he realized he was stuck with Jocelyn on his other side. Hoping the male companions would provide some distraction, he shook hands with Carl Jordan, Jocelyn’s husband, whom he’d met at his own wedding and at a Christmas gathering, and introduced himself to the other men at his table. They all exchanged business cards.
Mike Hammond, Hanna’s husband, owned a security firm—a very successful one as the rock on his wife’s finger testified. Steve Vonder, Jacquie’s husband, was a lawyer.
“You’re a surgeon? Good to know,” Mike said.
“Matt is my cousin’s Cybil’s ex-husband,” Jocelyn felt the urge to clarify, as if anyone cared about her cousin. “She’s remarried and has a baby,” she added, annoying him further.
He suppressed a second sigh, wondering why he’d listened to his brother and had bothered coming to the reunion. It was just his bad luck to be stuck with Jocelyn during dinner. He’d been right when he’d suggested the reunion might give him a monstrous headache.
Discretely, he lowered his gaze and checked the time.
“Too early to leave.” Brenda’s ironic comment startled him. “We haven’t had dinner yet.”
“Glad you’re having fun.”
“As much as you are.”
“Really?”
Guilt needled him for ignoring her. He hadn’t tried to learn anything about her. Maybe he could use some of the cliché questions to start a conversation.
“So what do you do these days?”
Her mouth stretching into a sarcastic grin, she murmured, “I ask guys like you to lie down on my sofa.”
“Excuse me?” He peered at her full lips and imagined himself flopping on her sofa—with her on top of him.
“I’m a psychologist. I analyze people with problems.”
She opened her purse and handed him a business card. He glanced at the card.
Brenda Hammer, PhD
Psychologist
How could he have forgotten her last name?
Her mouth curved into an infectious grin. “Do you want to visit my office?”
“No kidding?” A psychologist’s office? So much for thinking they could have a good time on her sofa. His fantasy deflated on the spot. “So you think I need analysis?”
“Definitely.” Her serious eyes held his. “Call my office for an appointment.”
Her voice sounded as professional as his did when he gave orders in the clinic.
Waiters set the entrées in front of them, and they started to eat the chicken Marsala and roasted potatoes.
Peering at Brenda, Matt wondered if she’d lost her mind. He, the successful surgeon, becoming a psychologist’s patient.
