by Darcy Burke
Amy nodded, writing. Probably: Poor decision-making. Impulse-control problems. She looked up. “I didn’t realize you were still taking Xanax. That was a short-term medication while you were taking your leave of absence, right? I thought you stopped taking it.”
She’d mostly cut it out, reserving it for when Mom made her especially tense. Or when Kyle Archer had shown up in her office.
“It’s important you take care of yourself, Maggie.” Amy’s tone was stern but kind. “It’s one thing for us to joke about you being a therapist who’s in therapy and another for you to lose sight of what you need to do to be truly healthy.”
This wasn’t soothing Maggie’s angst. She considered popping another Xanax when she left, but Amy was right. She needed to learn to cope without the medication. The way she used to before Alex had killed himself. She uncrossed her legs and leaned down to pick up her purse off the floor. Retrieving her pill box, she opened it and sorted out the Xanax from the Tylenol. She held all nine pills out to Amy. “Here.”
Amy stretched out her palm. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” Maggie dropped them into Amy’s hand.
“Do you have more at home?”
“Yes, but I’ll flush them.”
“Only if you’re comfortable, Maggie. This is a process, and you’re doing well. I want you to know that. To own that. You don’t ever give yourself enough credit. One of these days I hope you’ll let me explore with you why that is.”
Because Mark had robbed her of her self-worth and she’d just managed to find it again when Alex had gone and stolen it once more. She resisted the urge to snatch one of the pills back and take it.
Breathe, Maggie.
She inhaled deeply and let it out. “I know what I need to do.” Just maybe not necessarily how to do it . . . She didn’t care what Amy said—she was a mess.
“Our time’s up,” Amy said. “Unless you want to stay?”
No, she wanted air. She practically jumped up, grabbing her purse as she stood. “I’m good. Thanks, Amy, really.”
She confirmed her next appointment, and they said good-bye. As Maggie walked out to her car, she dug her keys out of her purse. Her hand nudged the pocket with her pillbox, now devoid of Xanax. That’s okay, she had more at home.
No, she said she’d throw them out. She could do this. She could think of Mark and Alex without feeling panicked.
She got into her car and tossed her purse on the passenger seat. Her phone half fell out, and she saw two missed call notifications on the screen.
Kyle.
He’d called thirty minutes ago. Twice. But he hadn’t left a voicemail. Was he okay? The urge to focus her energy on someone else’s problem drove her to call him back.
He picked up immediately. “Maggie?” His voice was thin, tense.
Her angst fell away, replaced by a shock of concern for him. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m at the casino.”
Shit.
“I can be there in thirty minutes.” Thankfully Amy’s little office was halfway to Ribbon Ridge. Maggie started the engine. “What are you doing?” Hopefully he hadn’t already gambled and she wasn’t too late.
“Sitting in my car.”
She exhaled softly as she pulled out onto the street. “You haven’t gone inside?” She ought to put in her headset, but she was too intent on keeping him with her.
“Not yet.”
“Do you want me to stay on the phone with you?”
A beat of silence. Her neck prickled with anticipation.
He breathed. “No, just get here.”
She drove toward the highway, eager to floor the gas pedal. “I will. Don’t go inside.”
“I’ll try not to. Just hurry.”
“I’ll see you soon.” Reluctantly, she ended the call and drove west. She didn’t turn on the radio as thoughts of what had prompted Kyle to go there swirled in her mind.
When she turned into the casino parking lot, she called him back. “I’m here. Where are you?”
“Three rows from the front on the left—between the casino and the hotel.”
She drove toward his location, scanning the area for his black SUV. Catching sight of it, she found an empty spot nearby and parked. She grabbed her purse and jumped out of her car. Belatedly she realized she hadn’t ended the call and did so as she strode up to his open driver’s window.
From the set of his jaw, she could see he was on edge. “Kyle?”
He turned his head. She’d never seen him look so agitated. The casual beach bum with the golden smile and the sparkling oceanic eyes was nowhere to be found.
“Do you want to walk with me?” she asked, sliding her purse strap over her shoulder and wondering why in the hell she’d brought it in the first place. Habit. She hated leaving it in the car.
He turned the key in his ignition, and her breath caught. Was he going to bail?
Then his window went up, and he pulled the key out. She let the air out of her lungs and waited as he got out of the car. Instead of walking, he leaned back against the door.
Apparently they were standing here for now.
“Do you want to talk about this or something else?” It was better to let him guide the discussion. Pushing him could backfire, and she was here to help him.
“I was at the festival. At the booth. There was a . . . problem.”
She cocked her head to the side, listening.
“Some money went missing—not much, just under a hundred dollars. Derek accused me of taking it.”
Anger coiled through her. She’d never met Derek, had only heard about him through Alex and knew that he and Kyle were former best friends who were now estranged. Nevertheless, she wanted to rail at him for his faithlessness. But it wouldn’t help Kyle for her to get upset. She needed to pull him back from the ledge, so she tamped down her own emotions.
“What happened after that?” She hoped that his sister or someone had stood up for him.
“Dad wasn’t exactly supportive.” He tipped his head back and looked up at the sky. The sun was sinking toward the horizon, but it wasn’t yet dusk.
“He agreed with Derek?” she asked, also wanting to give Rob Archer a piece of her mind.
“Not exactly.” Kyle lowered his head, and the look in his eyes provoked a longing she’d never felt before. An eagerness—no, a need—to reach out to him.
She stepped forward and took his hand, expecting to provide comfort but instead feeling a jolt of desire. Cool it, Maggie. “What did your Dad say?”
“That he’d talk to Derek. But he asked me again if I took the money, and while I think he wants to believe me when I say I didn’t, I’m not sure he did.”
She began to see why he might have left town and not looked back. “Was it always like this? Growing up, did it always feel like you were held to another standard?”
He gazed down at her in wonder, as if she were the first person to understand. As a therapist, she got that a lot, and she was glad for the patient when it happened. But from Kyle, she felt something far deeper—an awareness she didn’t share with her patients. “Somewhat, yes. There was always competition, particularly with Liam. I was great at sports, but not much else. Liam is good at everything.”
From what she knew of Liam from Alex, she knew that wasn’t true. When it came to family relationships, he pretty much sucked. Of everyone in the family, Alex had spoken of him the most.
“Is this about Liam or Derek?”
Kyle raked his hand through his hair, mussing the blond strands. “It’s about all of them. I just . . . It doesn’t matter what I do.”
She stroked his hand. “Yes, it does. I know it feels like you aren’t making progress, but I think you are.” She couldn’t say that for sure since she didn’t know how he was being received. But if his being here, filling in for his brother at Archer and participating in the monastery renovation didn’t change their opinions, they were close-minded, judgmental assholes.
“How can you say that?” he asked,
echoing her thoughts.
“Because I can’t believe you came from a family of self-absorbed jerks.”
The intensity of his stare would’ve burned her if it had been a tangible thing. “Why not? Most people think I’m the most self-absorbed jerk of them all.”
“Then you aren’t showing them who you really are.” She moved her hand up his arm, skimming over his muscled flesh until she reached his bicep. “You aren’t showing them what you show me.”
He reached out, grasped a curl beside her cheek, and brushed it back, his fingertips grazing her scalp. “What do you see when you look at me?”
“A thoughtful, caring gentleman who wants to do right by his brother, by his family. Who wants to find a way back home.”
“I know this is therapy, that you’re saying this as a professional, but I don’t care.” He bent his head toward her. “Thank God you’re here.” His lips brushed over hers. The contact was gentle but soared through her like a bird taking flight. Triumphant, joyous.
“I’m not saying that as your therapist,” she said against his mouth. “I’m not your therapist. I’m . . . hell, I don’t know what I am.” She curled her hands around his neck and pulled him down to kiss him more deeply. Opening her mouth, she slid her tongue into his.
With a groan, he clasped her head between his hands, angling and holding her for the onslaught of his kiss. She cast her head back and invited him to feast, just as she was taking what she wanted of him. He pressed into her, bringing his hips against hers.
She glided her hands down his chest, skidding over his muscles. God, how she wanted to feel him flesh to flesh. She wrapped her hands around his back and drew him against her. Better, but still not good enough.
Following her lead, he moved his hands down her back. One clutched her waist while the other went further and splayed over her hips, his fingertips digging deliciously into her ass.
She pushed her pelvis into him, and with the motion, her head went farther back. He left her mouth to press hot, wet kisses over her neck. The distant sound of a car starting reminded her of their location.
She opened her eyes, loving the sight of his head bent toward her chest, his mouth trailing downward into the V of her neckline. “Kyle,” she said, barely recognizing the rasp of her own lust-filled voice. “We’re doing it again. In the middle of a parking lot.”
The unmistakable sensation of him smiling against her skin drew a soft laugh from her. His head came up swiftly, his eyes more blue than green as he looked at her with the same desire pooling in her core. “Shall we move this inside?”
“The casino?” She tried to think of how that could possibly be more private. But maybe they could find a nook or commandeer a bathroom . . .
His lips curved into a grin. “The hotel, silly.”
More like stupid. She’d forgotten about the hotel. The suggestion was unambiguous. Hotel rooms had beds. Was she ready to go there with him? Was she ready to go there with anyone? She hadn’t been after Mark.
“I don’t think they rent by the hour,” she said, her heart racing from the kissing and the prospect of more.
He lowered his head until his lips were a breath from hers. “Good. I don’t want just an hour.”
A delicious shiver ran down her spine. How could she refuse him? No man had ever looked at her like that, and her body had never responded with such heat and need.
“Okay.” She almost giggled with anticipation. Rational thoughts tried to crowd her brain—was this a good idea? Would she regret it? How would she deal with the aftermath?
Screw it, she told herself. You deserve this. You need this. Stop overanalyzing everything. Turn the therapist brain off.
She took his hand and started toward the hotel. “Let’s hurry.”
A SEXUAL HAZE clouded Kyle’s mind, shielding it from thoughts like What are you doing? Don’t you remember who she is? Are you a moron? The glass doors parted as they approached, and they entered the lobby under a blast of air conditioning. Hand in hand, they walked to the front desk.
Kyle smiled at the woman behind the counter. “We don’t have a reservation. Spontaneous trip.”
The employee, a woman in her late forties, peered at them curiously, her gaze searching for . . . probably their luggage. Oops.
“Really spontaneous,” he said.
“That’s fun,” she said with a smile. “We have toothbrushes if you need them.”
Kyle shot a glance at Maggie, who was staring off somewhere into the middle distance, trying vainly not to look embarrassed. He squeezed her hand.
After providing his information, ID, and the only credit card he allowed himself—one with only a five-hundred-dollar limit—they were checked in.
“Do you need two keys?” she asked.
“One will do,” Kyle said.
With a nod, she slid over a little envelope with the single key card. “You’re in four twelve. Go down the hall and take the elevator.”
“Thanks.” Kyle snatched up the key, and they turned to go down the hall. “Hang on.” He left Maggie and returned to the front desk. He lowered his voice. “Can you send up champagne later—say nine o’clock?”
“Actually, there’s already a bottle in the room,” she said as softly as he did. “It’s one of our romance suites.” She gave him a knowing look and winked.
He flashed her a grin. “You are the best front desk clerk in the history of front desks. Thank you.” He spun around and practically ran back to Maggie. Taking her hand, he started toward the hallway leading to the elevator.
Once they got out of sight of the front desk, she slowed. “Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea.”
He stopped a few feet from the elevator. “The parking lot is better?”
“No.” She blushed and looked down. “This . . . I came here to talk to you, to help—”
He pulled her to his chest and kissed her. Hard and fast and then lingering and soft. She melted against him.
Moving quickly, he punched the up arrow and tugged her to the elevator. “Ride up with me, and if you’re still feeling uncertain, we can forget it.” God, he hoped that wouldn’t happen.
The elevator chimed, and the doors opened. A couple stepped out, and Kyle moved out of their way. Then he walked into the elevator and looked at Maggie. “You coming?” He held his breath.
The doors started to close. She leapt forward, causing the doors to jerk open again. With the force of her momentum, she lost her balance and crashed into him. He snaked his arms around her waist, holding her steady. Her gaze connected with his, and all he saw was heat and want—a reflection of his desire.
With a low sound coming from somewhere primitive, he dragged her up against him. She twined her arms around his neck and pulled him into her kiss. Her mouth opened beneath his, their tongues met and clashed. Her fingers curled into his flesh and tugged at his hair.
He clutched her waist and brought her hips flush to his. She pulled away, leaving him cold and surprised. She jabbed a button on the elevator panel, and ice slithered over his skin as he realized she meant to stop this.
The elevator stopped, and she came back, grabbing his head and bringing him down to her open mouth. She kissed him hungrily, like a starving woman, and he returned in kind.
“You stopped the elevator,” he managed between kisses. “So hot.”
“I’ve always wanted to do that.” She ran her palm over the front of his shorts, brushing his erection and driving him to the edge.
“I need you now.” He held her tight as he rotated and then restarted the elevator. He renewed the kiss and lifted her. “Put your legs around my waist.”
She did as he commanded. “Aren’t I too heavy?”
“You’re perfect.”
The elevator chimed again, and the doors opened. If anyone was waiting in the hallway, he didn’t notice. He didn’t even look. He carried her across to the wall, where he pinned her, his hips between her legs.
“Kyle,” she gasped into his mouth. “
How is the hallway better than the parking lot?”
He looked around then. “No one here.”
She pulled her legs from his waist and slid to the floor. She grabbed his hand. “Room.”
Turning, she looked at the sign with the room numbers and their directions, then pulled him to the right. They traveled halfway down the corridor before she stopped in front of the door. “Four twelve.”
He pulled the keycard from his pocket and slid it into the reader. The light showed red. Goddamn it, why did those things never work the first time? He tried again, and it failed again.
“Let me.” She snatched the card from him and pushed it into the slot. Green.
She turned her head and flashed him the sexiest smile he’d ever seen on her. “Magic touch.”
“Show me.” He pushed the door open and drove her inside, stopping in the entryway to kick off his flip-flops and devour her mouth once more.
She kissed him with open abandon, her nails digging into his shoulders as excited little sounds emerged from her throat. He was so turned on, he could barely stand it.
The door slammed closed, and she backed into the room. Then her hands shoved at his chest, and again he wondered if she was about to call a halt.
“Holy crap.” Her expletive drew his attention, and he looked at their surroundings for the first time.
There was a king-sized bed splashed with several dozen red rose petals, a bar area with a sink, fridge, and champagne chilling on the counter, and a massive flat-screen TV, but the focal point of the room was the Jacuzzi tub in front of the bay windows that looked out over the rolling hillside behind the hotel.
“It’s the romance suite,” he said.
“You shouldn’t have.” She sounded awestruck.
“It was entirely the clerk’s doing.” He went to her, and she looked up at him, her eyes dark and lush, a thin band of gold lining the inner edge of the brown. He tipped her chin up and pulled on her lower lip with his thumb. Then he ran the pad straight down in a direct path, gliding over her neck as she cast her head slightly back. Down he went until he reached the V in her shirt, where three little buttons were sewn as some sort of taunting decoration because they didn’t open. He arced his hand to the right, cupping her breast.
