She bit down on her lower lip for a second. He could tell she hadn’t expected him to know any of that. But her setback was fleeting. Squaring her shoulders, she said, “Also true, Lieutenant. But any of the doctors here—”
“I don’t want any of the others, Livvie.” He moved to invade her space, standing so close she had to tilt her head back. “I want you.”
Chapter Six
This isn’t happening, this isn’t happening, this isn’t happening…
No matter how many times Olivia chanted the damn saying, the scene never changed. Nope, this was truly happening. Right here, right now.
The man who’d basically fucked her within an inch of her life was her new client.
The man she’d chosen to jump-start her sex drive stood no more than a few inches away, claiming he wanted her. (In what capacity wasn’t as important as the fact he used the words “I want you.” Pathetic, but there it was.)
Wolf—no, Erik—ghosted over her top lip with the tip of a blunt finger. “What happened here, gorgeous?”
Heat pooled in her belly at the use of the pet name he’d often used on her the other night. His gravelly voice made the innocent endearment sound downright lascivious. “I burned it on my latte.” She hoped that didn’t sound as lame as she suspected. It was almost as bad as the infamous “I carried a watermelon” line from Dirty Dancing.
“Need to be more careful with lips as priceless as these.” Erik’s eyes lifted to hers with a grin. “But since the damage is done, it’s only right that I kiss it and make it better.”
She opened her mouth to tell him he could do no such thing, but as his face lowered to hers, the air caught in her chest and the words of protest refused to dislodge from her brain.
After what seemed an eternity, his lips touched down and hugged her top lip, enabling her to do the same to his full lower one. It was an embrace as much as it was a kiss. A statement of his confidence and a definite claiming, gentle though it was.
God, what was she doing? Wrong, wrong, so very, very wrong. Olivia placed her hands on his hard chest to push him away. But then the tip of his tongue traced the line of her burn, and she lost all her motor skills. He’d somehow weaponized his saliva with a paralyzing toxin. It was the only logical explanation for why she continued to let a client kiss her in her office. It didn’t matter what message her brain sent to her limbs. Nothing moved.
Oh look, her fingers curled into his T-shirt. And her mouth opened so his tongue could sweep in and…yep, her tongue had no problems moving, either.
Well, good. The toxin theory was a bust. Yay for her. Except that meant she was participating in this…this…
Holy shit, the man kissed like she imagined he fought fires. Whether slow and methodical or fast and hungry, he never let up on the intensity. Like he wouldn’t be satisfied until he knew, without a doubt, he’d won and made her completely his. And that couldn’t happen. Not now, not later.
This time she did push him away and, though the brick wall of a man didn’t have the decency to at least pretend that she could make him budge, she also managed to pull her head back enough to break the amazing, toe-curling, panty-melting kiss.
“Shit,” she said, taking a healthy step back. “This can’t— No. Just no. I will not go down this road with you.”
Olivia marched back to her desk and plopped into her chair before grabbing a bottle of water from the bottom drawer of her desk. She needed a nice, stiff drink, but this would have to do for now. Cracking it open, she tipped it to her kiss-swollen lips and drank half of it in one shot. As she went through her mini organizing routine—something she did to help collect herself and bring her mind back to center—Erik sauntered over and reclaimed his seat in front of her desk.
“Lieutenant—”
“Erik.”
How did he manage to make his name sound like a command? And why did her body react every damn time he used that voice? Sighing, she continued. “Erik. You’re right; I do specialize in dealing with individuals struggling with PTSD. But fraternizing with a client is not only highly unethical, it’s grounds for losing my practicing license. I read your file over the weekend, and please believe me when I say that I would be honored to help a hero such as yourself—”
“I’m no hero, babe.”
Olivia blinked. Each of those words had been hurled at her like throwing knives that purposely missed her body by a hair, and only because it was meant as a warning. That wasn’t the typical “I was just doing my job, ma’am” response that most soldiers gave. No, Erik had a real problem with anyone considering him a hero. It was an obvious wound and only made her want to help him that much more.
“Okay,” she said, using her calm therapist voice. “I truly want to help you, Erik. I know how badly you want to get back to work with your brothers.” Appreciation flickered in his eyes before he masked it. Yes, she understood that firefighters considered it a brotherhood just like any of the military branches. They respected all members whether they knew them or not, and the men and women they fought fires with were often bonded closer than blood siblings. She found the relationships beautiful in their unwavering loyalty. “But I can’t be the one who helps you, that’s all there is to it. I’m sorry.”
He shifted in his chair again. “Let me ask you this. If I go to another shrink in the office, will you agree to see me?”
“See you?”
“Go out with me. You know, dates, dinners, dancing…”
“You dance?”
“Not even a little, but I had an alliteration thing going.” He winked at her, and Olivia bit the inside of her cheek, trying to prevent the huge smile attempting to break free. Erik braced his elbows on his knees and leaned forward. “I’ll always be 100 percent honest with you. After I tucked you in, I told myself that I had to do whatever it took to convince you to have breakfast with me the next morning and then do whatever it took to get you to agree to see me again. But we both know how that turned out.”
A pang of guilt tightened Olivia’s chest. She’d hated leaving like that, but she knew that if he so much as opened his eyes and looked at her, she’d throw all her rules out the window and do whatever he wanted. She’d thought of leaving a note, but what’s the appropriate thing to say in a situation like that? Hallmark could probably make a killing if they started a “Morning After” line. Thanks so much; you were great. I enjoyed not having to masturbate. Okay, so maybe she wasn’t the right woman for the job of “clever rhyme writer,” but there was definitely an untapped market there.
Erik drilled her with a heated look. “Livvie, I haven’t stopped thinking of you since I woke up in that bed alone. I’d like to think I wasn’t all that easy to forget, either. Why not see where things go?”
“I can’t,” she rasped. “Even if you see another doctor, I can’t. It was only supposed to be one time and then we’d never see each other again. I’m not ready for…” You, she mentally tacked on, but she said a different word entirely. “More.”
Erik leaned back in the chair and studied her through slightly narrowed eyes. It felt as though he had X-ray vision and could see inside her head. All he had to do was move things around with his mind, and he’d know exactly how she worked. Usually, she was the one doing that to people in this room. Now she knew why some of her clients fidgeted under her gaze.
Running a hand over his jaw, he said, “Okay, renegotiation.”
She sighed. “Erik, you can’t renegotiate when there was no negotiating to begin with.”
“I’ll agree to see another shrink if you can get Dr. Marion to see me. Out of everyone here, he’s the only one I’ll feel comfortable with. He’s at least former military.”
Olivia released a long, shuddering sigh. At last, the stubborn man had come to his senses, and Marion would take him on for her. She was relieved, of course. The twinges in her chest were likely a slight case of heartburn, because they certainly weren’t ones of regret that she’d managed to convince him to back off. “That’s
perfectly understandable. I can take you over there now, if you like. Dr. Marion never sees clients before ten a.m., so I can make the introductions and hand you off to him.”
“Not so fast,” he said as she started to rise from her seat. Deflated, she dropped back down and waited for him to continue with his terms. “Since I’m agreeing to something for you, I think it’s only fair that you give me at least a chance to get something I want in return.”
“What do you mean ‘a chance’?”
“If you won’t agree to go on a date with me, then I’m willing to gamble for it. After the introductions, I’ll ask Dr. Marion flat-out if he thinks you should see me in a dating capacity. If he does, you agree to no less than three dates of my choosing. I promise to keep them in public, and we’ll start from a clean slate with no expectations. However, if he doesn’t think you should, I promise to never bother you again.”
“What in the world would make you think Dr. Marion would agree to something like that?” she asked, reaching for the bottle of water.
One muscled shoulder lifted in a noncommittal shrug. “I could say that I’m hoping he’ll take my side out of sympathy as a fellow man. You know, Bro Code and whatnot.”
Olivia almost choked on her sip of water. The idea of the sixty-four-year-old man doing anything for the sake of the “Bro Code” was laughable. But then, she knew Dr. Edward J. Marion better than almost anyone. Outside of the office, he was Uncle Eddie, her father’s lifelong friend and Olivia’s godfather. The man was as fiercely protective of her as he was with his own daughters.
“But if you want the truth,” he continued, piercing her with his whiskey-colored eyes, “like I mentioned earlier, I’m betting this thing you call coincidence is bringing us together for a reason. And if that’s true, then I also have to believe the good doctor will rule in my favor.”
Olivia chewed on the corner of her bottom lip. She felt bad about dashing his romantic notions—especially since Erik’s opinion of the cosmos playing matchmaker between her and a man like him made things flutter wildly in her belly—but her guilty conscience wouldn’t change the outcome. There was no way Uncle Eddie would encourage her to date someone he didn’t know and who was about to be treated for symptoms of PTSD.
She tapped a fingernail repeatedly on the wood surface of her desk as she studied him. He wore his brave front like a Kevlar vest that could protect him from anyone getting in. But body armor—whether literal or metaphorical—could only protect a man so much. It still left him with plenty of vulnerable areas. Areas she was trained to recognize and expose with slow and subtle guidance. To break him down so he could then build himself back up, stronger than before.
Olivia had been too preoccupied with her own series-of-unfortunate-events Friday night to notice his suffering. Even now, when she knew for a fact that he was haunted by his past, he did a damn good job disguising it behind his confidence and male bravado. Better than most. And like what was typical for first responders or those in the military, he kept his demons at bay by using his compulsions to help and protect others.
Though she didn’t doubt it was desire and chemistry that initially drove Erik to pursue her, he’d been sincere when he told her he’d do whatever she wanted, give her whatever she needed. And not because it posed a challenge or inflated his ego, but because underneath the base and primal drive for sex…he cared.
The need to help others was simply a part of who Erik was. He saved people. For a few short hours, he’d saved her from herself. And now she had the opportunity to save him back.
If that meant turning him over to Eddie so his sessions wouldn’t be clouded by the indomitable sexual tension radiating between her and Erik, then all the better. Because bottom line: she didn’t trust herself around Lieutenant Erik Grady.
Decision made, she pushed up from her seat and walked around the desk. By the time she reached him, he’d stood as well. With her heels on, her eyes lined up with that delectable mouth of his, which was why she made sure to keep her gaze strictly on his whiskey eyes. Not that those tempted her any less. Damn him.
He arched a brow in question. “Doc?”
Right, yes. Saying things. Fabulous idea. Lifting her chin, she cleared her throat and did just that. “I agree to your terms. I’ll get Dr. Marion to see you as a client.”
“And?”
“And,” she added reluctantly, “if by some miracle he agrees to your ridiculous condition, I’ll go on your requested three public dates.” His lips curved into a smug grin, which irritated her just enough to add, “But I’ll be the one to ask him the dating question, not you.”
“I can live with that,” he said with an arm sweeping toward the door. “After you.”
Squaring her shoulders, she led Erik out of her office, past the desk of a very intrigued (read: salivating for details) Cindi, to the other side of the suite. “Good morning, Ruth,” she said to the woman sitting at a large desk covered in framed photos of her kids and grandkids. Ruth had been Uncle Eddie’s assistant for as long as Olivia could remember. He teasingly called her his office wife. Ruth was like a Boston version of a typical Southern grandma: the friendliest, warmest woman, who loved spoiling everyone in the office—and their diets—with her blue ribbon–worthy baking.
“Well, good morning to you, Dr. Jones.” Ruth’s gaze flitted quickly to Erik and back. Olivia could almost see the kernel of mischief blooming in the woman’s eyes. Shit. “Why, don’t you look especially beautiful today,” she said with all the subtlety of a jackhammer.
“I told her that very thing, Ruth.”
The rosy-cheeked woman held a hand against her heart and inhaled dramatically. “You did?”
Erik gave her a wink and a wide smile. “Technically, I said she looked good enou—”
“Ruth, is Dr. Marion available?” Olivia interrupted, ignoring the man chuckling next to her.
“Of course, dear. Go on in.”
After rapping a few times on the door, Olivia let herself in and closed it after Erik joined her. Her uncle was seated at his massive desk, reviewing papers in front of him. She cleared her throat, and he raised his head. The indulgent smile and familiar greeting he always had for her stalled the second he noticed Erik at her side. Curiosity danced in his pale blue eyes as he removed his reading glasses.
“Ah, good morning, Dr. Jones. To what do I owe this early pleasure?”
“Good morning, Dr. Marion. I have a bit of an issue I need your help with. This is—”
“Lieutenant Erik Grady,” her godfather said as he stood and they shook hands. “Good to see you, son. How are you?”
“Very well, sir, thank you.”
Olivia closed her gawping mouth. “You two know each other?”
Uncle Eddie walked around to the front of his desk. “I’ve been good friends with Bill Marshall, his fire chief, for twenty years. I’ve met the lieutenant several times while visiting Bill at the station. Upstanding young man and a hell of a leader to his men.”
“Thank you, sir.”
She couldn’t believe her ears. Erik had led her to believe she had the upper hand, and now she learned that he might as well be golfing buddies with her uncle.
“So what can I do for you, Lieutenant?” Eddie asks, sliding his hands into his pockets.
Olivia took back control over the conversation. “He’s been placed on temporary leave due to symptoms of PTSD from past tours overseas and it’s interfering with his performance on the job. His case has been assigned to me.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Uncle Eddie said to Erik solemnly. “I didn’t know you were former military, son. What unit?”
“Second Ranger Bat., sir.”
Eddie nodded. “I’m a Marine corps major myself. First Battalion, Third Marines. Served in Saudi Arabia and Kuwait for Desert Shield and Desert Storm. What you’re going through is perfectly normal.”
“Logically speaking, sir, I know that. It’s the ranger in me that refuses to acknowledge that fact.”
The man nodded. “I understand.” Then he turned his attention back to Olivia. “What can I help you with?”
“I need you to take his case.”
Eddie raised a brow in her direction, and since she’d known the man her entire life, Olivia knew exactly what that subtle arch said—What in the hell are you doing discussing this in front of the client?—and she deserved every bit of that scrutiny. Under normal circumstances, she would have waited to have a private discussion with her uncle about Erik’s case, then followed up with Erik after they’d made a decision about his treatment. Not only was this approach highly unorthodox, it was completely unprofessional. But, desperate times and all that.
She pushed forward before he gave her his wait till I tell your father look. Not that she’d seen that one since she was a kid, but Olivia didn’t doubt he still had it in his arsenal. “This past weekend, before either of us knew the other, we met in a social capacity. Professionalism dictates that I give him to someone with whom he has had no prior connections.”
Olivia refused to look over at Erik, but she didn’t need to. From the corner of her eye, she saw him standing with his feet braced apart and his muscular arms crossed over his chest, and she could feel his cocky half smile from way over here. Eddie’s gaze bounced between them.
“Let me make sure I understand this,” the older man said, rounding his desk to sit down again. “The two of you met each other over the weekend in a social setting of some kind, and now you’re not comfortable treating him for his PTSD?”
“To be frank, sir,” Erik said, “we hooked up.”
Olivia gasped, her head whipping to the side to stare at him in utter shock. He didn’t… He wouldn’t…
Eddie sat in his worn leather chair and rocked back into a reclined position.
“Lieutenant,” she warned through a clenched jaw.
Erik acted like she wasn’t even there. “We kept it anonymous, and it was only supposed to be a one-night thing—her rules, by the way, not mine—but now here we are, two days later, hooking up again.”
Hot for the Fireman Page 7
