Plain Jane by Fern Michaels

His Docksiders were worn in and comfortable-looking. “What’s that smell?” she asked, twitching her nose. “Alpine something, right?”
    “Christmas gift from my mother. Look, I brought breakfast.” He held up a white bakery bag. “Fresh beignets , juice, and coffee.”
    “I thought we were going to have a picnic brunch around ten or so?”
    “We were, but ever since I left here I’ve thought about nothing except what happened at the well, and I couldn’t wait to get back. I hope you don’t mind. . . .”
    Jane threw her hands up in the air. “No! No problem. C’mon, let’s eat,” she said, turning and heading for the kitchen. “Since you brought breakfast, you should do the serving. I think you should know I like my juice in a fragile wineglass and my coffee in bone china and my beignets on a matching plate. Paper napkins will do nicely. Everything is in the cabinet over the sink.”
    “Bossy, aren’t you?”
    Jane grimaced. She didn’t bother to respond. “It’s not even seven o’clock yet, Mike. You woke me up out of a sound sleep. What do you expect, full makeup and ironed linen?” Miss Congeniality she wasn’t. He was seeing her at her absolute worst. If he could put up with her until she had her coffee and turned into a human being, it would be a miracle. It would also tell what kind of man he was.
    “I really am sorry, Jane. I should have called. For some reason I thought you were an early riser.” He followed her into the kitchen and pulled out a chair for her. “You just sit down, and I’ll take care of everything.”
    Jane marveled at how efficient he was, even in a kitchen he didn’t know.
    Momentarily, he sat down across from her. “I hate eating breakfast alone. How about you?”
    Jane shrugged. “I’m not much on breakfast actually. Pop-Tarts on the run most of the time. An apple in the car. That kind of thing. So, what do you want to do today? After I turn into a human being that is,” she asked, sipping her coffee. “I’d like to explore the property and the entire house. Did the Larouxs leave anything behind? People usually do if they consider it junk. When I was here with the realtor, he showed me the attic. I remember there was all kinds of stuff, old clothes, toys, boxes . . .”
    “It’s all still up there. I’ve never gone through it, but it’s been on my ‘to do’ list. I guess today is as good a time as any to get it cleaned out. I’ll take some trash bags up there with us. Are we going to have time to talk about my patient?”
    “Sure,” Mike said. “Anytime you want.”
    “How’s your battery guy doing?”
    His face split into a wide grin. “He called last night to tell me he’s ordering a case of those big D batteries. I asked him why, and he said he liked the curly wire on the top and you can never have enough batteries. By the way, Duracell went up two points. He faxed me a printout.”
    “It doesn’t sound to me like he’s unhappy with his life,” Jane observed, sipping her coffee from the delicate cup.
    “As far as I can tell, he isn’t the least bit unhappy. He’s just obsessed, and he wants to overcome the obsession. If the rest of my patients were as happy as he is, I’d be delighted.”
    “And out of a job,” she added.
    “Well, that’s true. But you know, other than him, I don’t know anyone who is truly happy. Everyone I know who got married right after college is either already divorced or headed for the divorce court. No one wants to work at marriage anymore. When I was a college student, I decided I wanted to settle into a career before getting married, and I stuck to it. Now I know exactly what kind of woman I want. How about you, Jane?”
    “I—How about me?” she stuttered, wondering what kind of woman he was talking about. “I wanted a career first, too.” Tomorrow she was going to run ten miles even if she got shin splints all the way up to her neck. “As for the kind of man I want . . . I don’t know. I’ve