Table of Contents
Epilogue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Also by Krista Carleson
HEATED
An anger management specialist should be calm, cool and professional, right?
Riiight.
That’s how I was until the moment Jared Holmes walked into my office 30 minutes late.
And that’s when things went south….
Although I couldn’t take my eyes off that hard, muscular body and those deep green eyes, this guy was giving me anger issues and I just made his worse.
He stormed out of my office, but I couldn’t get him out of my mind.
One month later, I randomly run into Jared again, and things between us get very heated..in a good way.
I was getting in way over my head, until I discovered Jared’s keeping a terrible secret--one that threatens to destroy my already fragile trust--and possibly my career.
I think I made a huge mistake. Was I falling in love with my enemy?
Heated
Pathways Book 2
Krista Carleson
Quick Escape Press
© Copyright 2018 by Krista Carleson - All rights reserved.
In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Published by Quick Escape Press
[email protected]
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Epilogue
Also by Krista Carleson
1
I glanced at the clock on the wall for the umpteenth time, tapping my fingers on the wooden surface of my desk.
“Today, mister. Today.”
Breathe, Claire. Relax. Maybe he got stuck in the traffic. Yes. He could be here any minute.
I cast another glance at the clock, still miffed. Jared Holmes was almost thirty minutes late, managing to set a new record for client tardiness. Maybe I could give him a medal or something?
This was supposed to be our first session, but how was I supposed to conduct our first meeting properly, if I barely had time for introductions and a little bit of chit-chat?
Sighing, I glanced at my manicured nails, finding no skin to pick at. That had been one of my uglier habits when I was younger. I’d always picked at the skin around my nails when I was feeling anxious, but these days I’d traded that for tapping fingers on my desk, which was an equally ineffective stress-relieving habit.
Normally I’m pretty easy-going—calm, unperturbed and collected in situations that made most other people flustered and distressed—but one of my biggest pet peeves was when a client was late. Seriously, I could deal with a lot of bad things coming from clients or other people, save only one thing. Don’t be late. It wasn’t too much to ask, right?
Just when I thought I should give up on the appointment and head over to Starbucks for a vanilla latte, the door of my office opened and the epitome of sexiness walked in.
My eyes widened, and I stood up, making a quick inspection of one perfectly sculpted male body. He was tall, athletic, dressed in a sexy navy suit, and had a strikingly handsome face. And if I hadn’t been distracted enough, the moment our eyes met was the moment my professional composure ceased to exist, and all I was able to do was gape at him.
His deep green eyes were piercing, slightly shielded by his dark hair that fell over his forehead in beautiful waves, and my fingers actually itched to run through that silky softness. My body felt hot. Too hot.
His sensually sculpted lips curved into a barely visible smile when he broke our eye contact and let his gaze slide down my body. My chest rose and fell more rapidly with each second that he spent checking me out until my brain finally kicked back into gear and I again remembered who the hell I was and what I was there for.
He was my client, for Christ’s sake, and here I was—acting like I’d never seen a gorgeous man before in my life.
“Mr. Holmes, is it?” I asked, resuming my role. He was thirty minutes late by now, and I had no intention of letting this slide.
“That’s right,” he said when he reached my desk, never removing his hot gaze from me. His arm extended for a handshake, but I didn’t accept it. His seductive smile immediately vanished. He raised his brow, putting a definite end to the entrancement that had kept us connected just a few moments ago.
“What? You don’t do handshakes? Afraid of germs or something like that?”
And just like that—my dislike for him reached a whole new level. I was actually furious now, which was odd since fury and I were like two poles of a magnet.
My face twisted in a scowl, and for a moment, I completely forgot that he was a client and that I was supposed to be more composed than this.
“You’re late.”
“I know.”
“We have only thirty minutes left.”
“I know,” he gritted out. The muscle in his jaw ticked, giving me another proof of how angry he was right now. “Look, Miss...?”
“Claire Matthews.”
“Miss Matthews. This is my session, right?” His voice dripped with venom, his eyes slicing me, preventing me from breathing properly. “So I’ll spend as much goddamn time here as I want because I’m the one who’s paying here. Okay? Or do I have to remind you what the client-employee relationship is?”
He shook his head, as he was far from done. “I was told you’re one of the best anger management therapists in the city, but so far the only thing you’ve done was to convince me I was completely misled.”
I clenched my hands tightly, on the verge of telling him to go to hell, but then my defiance came to a screeching halt.
He was right. He was the client, and I couldn’t force him to do anything. I was acting totally unprofessional, which was not like me. I should know better. I was the one who was supposed to calm the clients down, not the other way around.
Letting out a long exhale, I relaxed my hands and put a polite smile on my face. “You’re absolutely right, and I sincerely apologize, Mr. Holmes. I’m sorry for acting so rudely, and if you’ll let me make things right, I’ll make your time here worthwhile. Here.” I stretched my hand out, hoping he would accept the handshake. “Let’s do this the right way. I’m Claire Matthews. It’s nice to meet you.”
His eyes lingered on my hand a moment longer before he reached out and connected our hands, giving a firm handshake, and shivers danced across my skin.
“I’m Jared Holmes. Nice to meet you, too.”
I swallowed with difficulty when he didn’t let go of my hand, trapped by his fiery gaze. Had he felt the same thing?
“Please, take a seat,” I broke the silence between us, swallowing a few times to give my dry throat much-needed moisture. I gave him another quick once-over, wishing he wasn’t that handsome. It could start to get distracting.
I wa
ited for him to sit on the chair across from me before I followed suit. “So, Mr. Holmes, if I remember our brief phone conversation a couple of days ago well, you’ve come to my clinic for anger therapy?”
“That’s right.” He looked around my office, paying extra attention to my diplomas on the wall and the small glass display with the diplomas I’d collected over years in the corner. I didn’t fail to notice a hint of admiration in his eyes, and my chest inflated with pride.
I licked my lips, experiencing a dull ache in my chest when his eyes traveled down to my mouth for the briefest moment before he glanced away.
“Can you tell me something about yourself and the reason you’re here?”
He clenched his jaw, and his eyes made another trip around my office. He was nervous.
“I’m a thirty-two-year-old CEO in a family-owned corporation. So, I have to be responsible for pretty much everything. Lately, we’ve implemented some changes that forced me to work overtime almost every day. I started getting more tired and anxious, but that’s not the main issue here.”
He looked away and began bouncing his legs up and down, showing me yet another sign of his uneasiness.
“What is the main issue?” I asked in a gentle voice, spurring him on.
“I’ve been losing my temper easily lately, and snapping at staff and colleagues. I was dealing with it just fine, but the board doesn’t feel that way. They forced me to take a break and seek anger therapy, so here I am.”
He wasn’t happy being here—that much I’d deduced on my own. Our squabble when he arrived certainly didn’t help his case.
“Well, the first step to getting better is seeking help. You’re here, and this means more than you’re probably aware of.”
He didn’t buy my mantra. “I’m still reluctant about this therapy. So since therapy is all about honesty and such crap”—I winced at his crude word, frowning because he had no filter—“I’ll be honest with you. I don’t feel like I’m the only one to be blamed here. I understand that since those changes started we’ve all been under stress more than usual, but that’s not an excuse. If I’m able to give 100% and do my job right, I expect the same from my subordinates. So what if I raise my voice? So what if I rebuke them? If they haven’t made a mistake in the first place, none of that would happen.”
I had to restrain myself from recoiling at this affront, feeling like I was slapped. Was he serious? He actually refused to fully embrace accountability for his actions.
“So I’m not sure about this therapy thing at all.”
I had no idea what was about Jared that galled me so much. After all, I’d seen my fair share of clients who acted even worse in my office, throwing a myriad of insults at me whenever there was something that provoked them during sessions. However, I’d never let them affect me, accepting that predicament as a part of my job.
But Jared... He wasn’t even here by his choice. He didn’t find any fault in his behavior.
I was supposed to keep my cool and act like the professional I was, but it was proving difficult with him.
No. I couldn’t let his words get to me. I pressed my hands against my thighs, trying one last time to keep it together.
I could do this. I could remain positive and keep my totally-not-sincere smile on my face.
“I understand your reluctance to be here and that you’re wary of me, but maybe therapy can change your view on certain things. It can help you see things a bit differently.”
Uh-oh. His face turned rigid. Bad sign.
“Like what? That I actually have issues? It’s just stress. Nothing else. We all deal with it.” He crossed his arms over his chest—he was shielding himself from me.
I put an extra effort to keep my voice even and free of any negative tone. “Look at it this way. If you deny the existence of that unhealthy anger and keep it in you, it will only accumulate until you break down. If you keep acting like you have no issues, you can only make things worse for yourself—”
His face turned completely red, the veins in his temples bulging out. “Keep acting like I have no issues?”
I gritted my teeth, quickly losing the battle against myself. I was seconds away from flipping him off and closing the door in his face, even though I’d never done such a thing in my entire life. I was always the calm one in arguments. I even acted as a go-between in other people’s quarrels. I never experienced that boiling rage that could lead to words or actions I would definitely regret afterward.
Jared, however, was like an itchy scab that was constantly irritating me. No matter how hard I tried to ignore it, I couldn’t—just like I couldn’t stay indifferent to Jared. He definitely brought out the worst in me.
He was one of the most attractive guys I’d ever laid my eyes on, but his personality and looks were completely out of balance, killing any possible interest I could have in him.
It seemed that beauty and a nice personality just didn’t go together in men. They were too much for one package.
“Yes,” I said through my teeth. “You have a problem, Mr. Holmes, and accepting it would present one of the most important steps in your recovery—”
He jumped up to his feet, slamming his hand against my desk, and I stood up too, as pissed off as he was.
“Spare me with the platitudes! Steps? That’s bullshit! And I’m done here.”
He spun on his heel and stomped out of my office before I could even tell him to get out and never return again.
“I can’t believe him!” I pressed my hand against my chest, breathing heavily. “He’s an obnoxious, horrible jerk, and I don’t want to see him ever again.”
I glanced at the clock on the wall. Ten minutes. Our “session” lasted for only ten minutes. Good riddance! Better ten wasted minutes than sixty.
I slumped into my chair and closed my eyes, covering them with my forearm. Now all I had to do was to push Jaren Holmes out of my mind and completely forget about him. I wasn’t going to waste one more second thinking about what just happened.
2
A month later
“So, you’ve finally decided to give online dating a try?” Alison, my friend and a sports therapist at Pathways, asked.
She was scrolling through her Instagram feed with a bored expression on her face, looking at the latest posts from her favorite celebrities as she played with her messy chestnut curls that were falling around her shoulders. She and Marissa had been hanging out at my place for the last hour, keeping me company as I got ready for my Tinder date.
I put red lipstick on and looked at my profile in the mirror, checking my expression. My long blonde hair was now curled, cascading down my shoulders and upper back. My thick mane of hair and bright blue eyes were one of my strongest features, or so I’d been told, which was why I’d put extra effort to accentuate my eyes with eyeliner and shadow that matched my flared turquoise dress.
A beam came to life on my face. “Desperate times call for desperate measures. It’s been a year since I’ve been with a decent guy. I’ve been so busy these last few months that I don’t even remember the last time I went out for a drink.”
“Tell me about it,” Alison grumbled, making her gum pop. “I feel like my vagina is turning into the Sahara desert.” I burst into a fit of giggles, amused as always with Alison’s sarcastic quips.
Alison was the ‘life of the party’ among our trio. She never lacked jokes, sarcasm, or energy. I, on the other hand, had a bubbly personality but didn’t have that comedic timing that always put Alison in the spotlight. Marissa was more the serious and responsible one among us.
Together, we were one compact whole—ever since our college days. This was the reason why we’d decided to join forces and open our clinic Pathways several years ago, and it was the best decision we’d ever made.
“Then you better give it some water soon, if you know what I mean.” I wiggled my eyebrows at her in the mirror. “The plants need water to survive and stuff like that.”
She rolled her eyes
and let out an exasperated sigh. “I’m not quite so interested in flings anymore.”
“Oh?” I glanced at her over my shoulder. This answer had come as a complete surprise since Alison was all about going casual. “How did that happen?”
“I don’t know. It kinda became boring over time. Same old, same old. But if only guys weren’t such jerks, maybe I could actually settle for someone.”
“You can follow Marissa’s example.” I winked at her. “Go for a client.”
“No can do. That’s troublesome. Although, I do have some fine clients.” She put her index finger to her lips, her eyes turning dreamy as she glanced up at the ceiling. “Even more than fine, actually.”
“Alright.” I stood up and put my five-inch heels on. “How do I look? Do I look awesome, or do I look awesome?”
She made an okay sign with her fingers. “Curvalicious and perfect. Damn, girl. I envy your curves. And that sexy dress suits you perfectly. If only I had more boobs and ass...”
Giggling, I sprayed some perfume on my neck. “We all want what we can’t have. I want to be tall like you, but I’m short, so...”
“Believe me, you don’t want to be tall like me. You’d have limited choices! Like what if I want to wear heels? I’m already taller than most guys.”
Marissa Ford, the last part of our trio, scurried into my bedroom, carrying her phone in her hand. “Bad news.”
She ran her hand through her hair, letting a loud groan out. She’d been on her phone for the past fifteen minutes, so this could only mean that the conversation hadn’t been very good.
“What’s going on?” I asked her.
“I spoke with Bobby now.” Bobby was the owner of the Pathways building. “Our building is being eyed by Real Estate Silver, a developer, who is planning to tear it down and put condos in its place.”
Heated Page 1
