by Zara Chase
“Fishing? He can’t go fishing. I have an appointment with him.”
“No, sweetheart. You have an appointment with me.”
“Nice try, Baldwin, but it won’t wash. I don’t know what stunt you’re trying to pull, but I came here to see Doc Miller.” She planted her hands on her hips and glowered at him. “I just filled out a bunch of forms with his name at the top of them.”
“Nothing gets past you, does it?”
“What’s going on?”
“Doc Miller retired. I haven’t had a chance to change the stationery yet.”
She sent him a suspicious glower. “Retired? When did he retire?”
“End of last month.”
“Less than a week ago. Just my luck,” she muttered.
“Won’t I do?”
“Why didn’t you tell me the other night?”
He shrugged. “The subject didn’t come up.”
“Don’t try and be clever with me, Doctor.”
“Wouldn’t think of it, Detective.”
“Come on, Drew,” she said, looking everywhere except at him. “I can’t talk to you about anything.”
“Why not?”
“Why not?” Her eyes flared. “What sort of question is that? You’re a Baldwin. I’m not allowed to like you. Nothing personal, it’s just the way I’ve been programmed.”
He smiled. “You like Tatum. She’s a Baldwin. What’s the difference?”
“Plenty. You lied to me.”
Drew blinked. “Come again.”
“You should have told me the other night that I’d be seeing you. You must have known.”
“I didn’t, God’s truth. Only when I saw you were back in Sanctuary did it occur to me that you’d have to see someone. I checked my schedule after that and found your name on it. I inherited Doc Miller’s list along with his practice.”
“Then you should have called me and I’d have gone to someone else.”
“There is no one else in Sanctuary.” He spread his hands. “Sorry, it’s me or no one.”
She pursed her lovely lips. “No one would be just perfect.”
“Yep, but that’s not the way it works.”
“You’re loving this, aren’t you? It makes you feel like you’re getting one over on the McLeans.”
God, she couldn’t possibly believe that, could she? “Honey, I don’t think you—”
“Why didn’t you tell me you’d come back permanently.”
He shrugged. “Didn’t think you’d be interested.”
“What happened to Denver?”
“My dad got sick, so I figured I ought to come home and help out. Doc Miller had decided to retire, so it seemed like it was meant to be.”
“Isn’t this a little small time for you after the big, glamorous city?”
“Are you trying to pick a fight with me, Detective?”
He paused, their gazes locked, and the atmosphere radiated tension. Fuck it, if he didn’t know better he’d say it was sexual tension. It’s all in your mind, Baldwin. Get a grip. She ain’t interested. She made that abundantly clear by running away.
“Are you trying to avoid my question, Doctor?”
“Not at all.” He pursed his lips. “People make my job interesting, not surroundings, and right now you’ve got my complete interest.” Always have had, darlin’. If you only knew…
“Humph!” She fell into a sullen silence that Drew made no effort to break. “You don’t look much like a shrink,” she said accusingly.
“What are shrinks supposed to look like?”
“They wear faded corduroy pants, baggy cardigans, and have lots of facial hair,” she said, looking now as though she was trying not to laugh. “Take a hint from me, Doctor. No one will take you seriously if you look like a cowboy.”
“You mean you can see through my ploy to make people relax?” He pulled a face. “I’m devastated.”
“And you don’t play fair. You oughta dress like a shrink, Drew. You’re altering the order and method of life as this town knows it.”
“I’ll hit the stores soon as I close up and shop for cardigans.”
“Be serious!”
“I am,” he said softly, caressing her with his gaze. “If that’s what it takes to make you trust me, consider it done.”
“Nice try, but I’m still outta here.” She turned toward the door. “See yah.”
“I’ll have to let them know you were a no-show,” he said to her retreating back.
She swung around to face him, eyes blazing. “You wouldn’t!”
“Honey, I have no choice.” Drew spread his hands. “I’ve been told by Billings PD to examine you. If I don’t tell them I have, they’ll ask why not.”
“Oh for God’s sake!”
“We can discuss the weather if you’re frightened to talk about getting shot.”
Her eyes smoked with anger. “I’m not frightened of anything, especially not you.”
“That’s good to know. We just need to spend an hour in this office discussing metrology, or anything else you’d like, then I’ll give them my assessment.”
“Is that all?” she asked suspiciously.
“Sure.” He lifted his shoulders. “I know you don’t want to relive what happened to you. Why would I make you?”
“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing, Baldwin.”
“And what would that be, Precious?”
“I already told you, don’t call me that.”
Drew’s lips quirked. By calling her courage into question he had her, and they both knew it. “Sorry, Detective.”
“You promise I don’t have to talk about anything I don’t want to, and you’ll tell the powers that be I’m not loony tunes.”
“Ah, I didn’t say that, Prec—Detective.” He resumed his seat but kept his feet off his desk this time. “All I said was that I’d report my findings.”
“You really are enjoying my humiliation.” She fell into the chair in front of his desk and scowled like she bore the entire world a grudge.
Enjoying having her in his office? Absolutely. Enjoying what he had to do to her? Not a bit of it. Trying to humiliate her? Not a chance.
Drew had known he’d be seeing her today, provided she didn’t get to hear about Doc Miller’s retirement and who’d replaced him. She’d never show if she did. Tatum had colluded with him in keeping the news from her. Fool that he was, he’d cancelled the appointment scheduled before hers and spent the time standing at his office window, watching the parking lot, praying he’d see her little European sports car pull in. His heart lurched when it was almost time for her to show, and there was no sign of her.
Shit, he had figured she must have found him out! Then, with seconds to spare, a screeching of tires told him she was there. His relief had been palpable. Now all he had to do was force himself not to behave like a possessive jerk in the way that he had at the club. That was precisely the type of behavior she’d run away from. She needed to trust him, to look upon him not as a threat but an ally.
Drew almost smiled at such an unlikely prospect. She probably didn’t actively dislike him but had told the truth when she said she’d been programmed to think of him as the enemy. Not only that but she really didn’t want to see a shrink—any shrink—and especially not him. She was in a dark place right now inside her head. She’d shut out all her emotions following the shooting, and it was his job to unlock them so she could live again.
At least he could do that much for her.
“I enjoy my work. It can be real rewarding,” he said. “What about yours?”
“Nice weather we’re having.”
Drew laughed aloud. “They say we can expect more snow.”
Her lips twitched, which Drew took as an encouraging sign. “Okay then, Doctor Shrink,” she said, folding her arms defensively across her chest. Did she have any idea that the gesture made her lovely tits jut forward? Drew’s fingers itched to touch them. “Let’s get this over with.”
Chapter Six
Farah should definitely walk out, but something stronger than her own will kept her fixed to her chair. Not something, someone. The one. It was the heavy weight of Drew’s intelligent gaze focused on her face that deprived her of the ability to do the sensible thing. She simply didn’t have the strength—physical or mental—to tear herself away from him. He was her sun and she couldn’t prevent herself from responding to his gravitational pull. It was as simple as that. She didn’t believe there was no one else locally she could have been referred to. Pleasure was only ninety minutes away. Surely they had shrinks? She didn’t ask because he might feel professionally obligated to respect her wishes. Besides, better the devil you know…
Yeah, right, that would be it.
She felt a moment’s guilt when she thought about her family. She might not bear a grudge against the Baldwins, but if her dad got to hear that she’d confided in Drew as a professional he’d be angry and upset with her. Her mom and dad had both gently probed since she’d gotten home, trying to get her to talk about the shooting. She couldn’t and wouldn’t. Not that she intended to speak to Drew about it, either, but they’d never believe she hadn’t. Especially if he signed her off as fit to return to duty.
Shit, what a dilemma!
“Does the subject show any signs of mental trauma?” Drew asked, reading from a printed from. He glanced up at her. “Do you have mental trauma, Farah?”
“Nope.”
“Okay. That’s one box checked. See, this isn’t so hard, is it?”
“You’re going to take my word for it?” She eyed him with suspicion. No, scrub that, she simply eyed him because he was there, larger than life and ten times more gorgeous than she remembered, and she simply couldn’t help herself. Shit, her pussy was leaking, her damned nipples were so hard they rubbed painfully against the fabric of her bra, and her gut was performing Olympic-standard summersaults. She was sooo pathetic!
“Why wouldn’t I?” he replied with genuine-seeming confusion in his expression. “We agreed we’d only talk about stuff you wanted to talk about.”
“Actually we agreed to talk about the weather.”
He smiled then—a broad, non-contrived grin that gave her a close-up view of perfectly even, perfectly white teeth. His grin made his cheeks dimple. Dimples—the man had dimples, for Christ’s sake! It was so not fair. Unfortunately there were no laws against a man being so impossibly good looking—she knew because she’d checked—but there damned well ought to be. She’d speak to her congressman first chance she got.
“I think we exhausted that subject,” he said, returning his attention to his form. “The subject received a gunshot wound to the left thigh that narrowly…” He cleared his throat, a shadow dimming the capricious light in his eye. “That narrowly missed the femoral artery. That’s good. Don’t wanna mess with those pesky femorals. She also took two bullets to the torso, but was protected by her Kevlar vest.” He looked up, seemingly back to normal. “That must have stung.”
“I’m not talking about it, Baldwin.”
“You’re not. I’m merely reading out the questions your employers need answers to. Keep up, Farah, have they got that right? Sometimes, often in fact, they screw the information up.”
“Yes,” she said reluctantly. “They didn’t miss a trick.”
“Good to know.” He made another elaborate tick on the form. “Okay, so far?”
“Just peachy.”
“God, you’re gorgeous when you’re pissed.”
“That wasn’t very professional, Doctor,” Farah replied, wondering what game he thought he was playing now, trying to wrong-foot her with empty compliments. “Let’s keep this strictly business. I’ve got things to do.”
“Sure.”
He cleared his throat and returned his attention to the form. Farah glanced around his office, trying to figure out if he’d really intended to compliment her or if it was a clever ploy to get her to open up to him. This room smelled of fresh paint, too. The walls were a soft peach, the ceiling painted cream, and there were soothing abstracts on the walls along with his degree certificates. His desk was old and battered—one of those things with a leather top and lots of little drawers—probably a legacy from Doc Miller.
There was just one photograph on the desk in a silver frame. It was turned away from her, and she longed to turn it around, willing to give a lot to know who was so important to him. Jealousy cut through her like a knife when it occurred to her that he might have a significant other, or might even be married. He didn’t wear a ring, but a lot of men didn’t. No, Tatum would have mentioned it if he had anyone, always supposing she actually knew. Drew tended to play his cards close to his chest. But he wouldn’t have been on the prowl in Consensual if he had someone else, would he? Farah didn’t know what to think.
Unlike his desk, the chair she was sitting in was brand-new. It was cream leather and sinfully comfortable. It swiveled in all directions, and she suspected that if she leaned back it would be way too easy to fall asleep in it, or at least to relax her guard. No way was that going to happen.
“Farah?”
“Sorry, did you say something?”
“I asked if you were ready for the next question.”
She straightened her shoulders, reminding herself not to get too comfortable. “Bring it on.”
“Okay, here we go. Does the subject have flashbacks to the incident?” He rubbed his chin. “Hmm, that’s a tricky one. Might mean you have to talk about it. Do you want me to make something up? Pretend we have talked?” He lowered his voice, which kind of compelled her to look at him so she could read his sexy lips. “That’s what we’ve been doing for years, isn’t it? Pretending?”
Farah gasped. Did he mean what she thought—hoped—he did? She didn’t know and wasn’t ready to answer him. What she did know was that he was playing with her. The more determined she was not to talk about the incident, the more he’d read into it. That was his job, she supposed. He was paid to second-guess his patients. Well, there was nothing wrong with her. No siree!
“I’ll tell you about it,” she said abruptly. “I wouldn’t want you to risk your reputation by faking my responses.”
Drew leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. Just as well. If he’d shown the slightest sign of triumph she would have backed down, or beat her fists against that solid chest of his—something, anything, to rid herself of the endless ache, the wearing frustration that she felt whenever she was anywhere near him.
“I’m listening.”
“Okay.” She grabbed a paperweight from his desk and threw it from hand to hand, concentrating on it rather than him. “But I’ve gotta tell you, if you ask me anything predictable like how did it make you feel? I swear to God you’ll feel the full force of this paperweight some place where the sun don’t shine.”
Drew winced. “Warning duly noted. I still remember what a good shot you are.”
She laughed for the first time since entering the office. “That time we were playing softball, the Baldwins against the McLeans, and I threw the bat at you for cheating.”
“I did not cheat.”
“Did, too.”
He reached for his shin. “Whatever, I still bear the scars.”
“Poor you.”
Her smile abruptly faded. She wasn’t supposed to be enjoying herself, flirting with the man who’d broken her heart and not had the manners to apologize. It was completely quiet in the office as Farah tried to decide what to tell him. She wasn’t surprised when he remained right where he was, looking perfectly relaxed, devastating, unreachable, waiting for her to speak.
“It was a drugs bust,” she said. “Uniforms had been called to a disturbance in a poor part of town. We knew there was a meth lab there because we’d been keeping an eye on the people we thought were behind it, but we didn’t have probable cause for a search warrant. My partner and I responded along with the uniforms because it was the chance we’d been waiting for to get into that p
lace.” She paused and took a sip from the water glass Drew had placed in front of her. “Three kids were there. They’d beaten the shit out of a fourth. There might have been others involved, but presumably the sirens frightened them off and they’d long since done a runner. The beaten kid was no problem, so we and the two uniforms concentrated on the other three.”
“Must have been scary.”
“Actually, I was perfectly calm, even when all three of them produced guns. I figured they wouldn’t be stupid enough to shoot at armed police.” She screwed up her features. “Much I knew. My partner identified us as police, even though we had two uniforms with us, and told them to put the guns down.”
“Your partner being more experienced than you?”
“Right, ten years a detective. Problem was, Reggie has three kids, a baby, and another two under five.”
“Ouch, quite a handful.”
“Exactly, and between the hours he put into the job, and trying to help his wife with the kids, he wasn’t getting enough sleep.”
“Are you saying your partner wasn’t as sharp as he should have been?”
She noticed a subtle change in his body language and wondered if she’d said too much. “Anything I say to you goes no farther, right?”
“Absolutely. Think of me as a priest, honey.”
She snorted. “A less likely looking priest I’ve yet to see.”
“Thanks. I think.”
“Reggie just didn’t see the threat. All three kids put their guns down and kicked them aside. The uniforms had cuffed the first two. Reggie was about to do the same with the third when he produced another gun.”
“Your partner didn’t check for concealed weapons?”
“No.” Farah shook her head. “It was a basic error but, like I said—”
“He was tired.”
“Right, and he nearly paid for that error with his life. The guy fired from almost point-blank range. Fortunately he was coming down from a chemically induced high and his hands were shaking. He missed Reggie’s heart and just winged his shoulder.”
Drew swallowed, looking deeply disturbed. What had she done wrong? He’d wanted her to talk, hadn’t he, and she was talking.
