Sessions Interrupted

by Kristi Pelton

  Sessions

  Interrupted

  Kristi Pelton

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes. If you are reading this book and you have not purchased it or won it in an author/publisher contest, this book has been pirated. Please delete and support the author by purchasing the ebook or paperback from one of its distributors.

  Editor: Susan Roberts

  Cover: Toski Covey Photography

  and

  Sommer Stein of Perfect Pear Creative Covers

  Published by: Kristi Pelton

  Acknowledgements

  Following the release of Pure Will…I was gratefully overwhelmed with the response from so many people. One author reached out because she had read and enjoyed the book and introduced me to a new world—a world of street teams and pimpers and awesome people. SE Hall…thank you for that phone call at midnight that led me to Pelton’s Wild Women! Your graciousness will never be forgotten. I have to say thank you to Angela Graham for reaching out to me as well and helping with my very first critique. And to those in Pelton’s Wild Women—I could no sooner choose a favorite of you all than choose a favorite star. You are pimping beasts who give up your time for me. From the bottom of my heart, I thank you!! Beta Babes…thank you, it was fun and you rock!!

  Meg, Mad and Clista—You three started this journey with me years ago and remain by side. Gracias chicas.

  To my Mom and Dad—there are no words—I love you.

  Kevin, Ben and Zach—thank you for allowing my computer to accompany us everywhere we go. Thank you for making me smile. And thank you for being the best part of my life.

  K, B, Z… 1

  Go Jayhawks! Go Ducks! Go Cubs!

  Chapter 1—Kieran

  “All Rise. The Multnomah County District Court is now in session, the Honorable Judge Joe Phillips presiding,” the monotone court reporter shouted across the empty courtroom, seeming as bored as I.

  “Thank you, you may be seated,” the familiar Judge said. “May I have the appearances, please?”

  The petite little prosecutor in her pencil skirt and silk cream blouse stood back up. Shauna. The red in her cheeks darkened as her eyes flickered to mine. Three months had passed since I’d nailed her. I don’t know why she’d still be embarrassed; I’d seen her out since. “May it please the court, Shauna Hoffman on behalf of the state.”

  Up next, my overpaid attorney, who was as well known as I was to the court, stood in his expensive suit that I probably paid for and said, “May it please the court, Kieran Scott appears in person by and through counsel Jason Reed.”

  “Thank you,” the judge said. “It appears we are here again for Mr. Scott on a public intoxication and aggravated battery charge?”

  I couldn’t help but snicker. The judge peered over his bifocals at me as Jason elbowed me in the side. I needed an attorney with bigger balls.

  “Your Honor, if I may?” I rose from my seat, ignoring the sigh of Jason next to me. I chuckled a bit as he covered his eyes with one hand.

  “Please Mr. Scott. Enlighten us to what happened this time. I do find it entertaining since I rarely get to meet a man of leisure with so many charges yet so few convictions.”

  “Well you see, I was having a little fun with my friends, minding my own business and this prick starts to get rough with his girl...”

  The court reporter with a lopsided grin tapped away on the small machine. Judge Joe’s icy glare caught mine.

  “So, I decided to teach said guy a lesson.”

  The judge tossed his glasses onto his bench. “And you hit him with brass knuckles?”

  “No sir, he’s full of shit. That was my fist that hit him,” I swore. That pissed me off most. That prick knew damn good and well my fist broke his nose, and he’s claiming I had a weapon.

  Though he was black, the judge’s face darkened as he slowly rose to his feet. I knew him well enough to know he was through entertaining me. I knew that look all too well. “Mr. Reed, I’d like to see your client in chambers immediately.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The chamber door slammed and I knew better than to slouch in the leather, wingback chair. Bracing myself for what I knew was coming…

  “Sit up,” my godfather growled, smacking the back of my head.

  Brushing off the involuntary flinch, I scooted even more upright in the chair. He knew I didn’t like to be hit.

  “Goddammit Kieran, get your shit together. I will not allow you to make a mockery of my courtroom.” His fist pounded on his desk.

  “I’m sorry, Joe. I wasn’t trying to.” My arms shot up in the air. “But this is bullshit.”

  “Kieran,” he drew out. Here we go with his usual spiel. “You’re killing me. You are 26 years old. You graduated with your master’s degree in accounting three years ago! You still have a position waiting for you in your father’s company making seven figures. You have an inheritance that any man would kill for.” Joe dragged his hand the length of his face in what I’m sure was frustration. “You have a small castle sitting on the Columbia River that’s been featured in countless magazines. Any woman would kill to be your mate…spouse …whatever! And tell me Kieran, what do you do?” He fell back into his chair clearly exasperated.

  My internal mercury was rising as I glared at the man, still in his black robe.

  “You drink. You fight. And you have sex,” he said, numbering them off on his fingers. “That’s what you do. And you’d be sitting on your ass in jail if it weren’t for these scared pussies refusing to press charges against you, who I’m sure you paid off. And I want nothing to do with that.”

  I shot up out of the chair. “Goddammit Joe! How did I get that inheritance? How did I get to be sole owner of that house?”

  Joe Phillips rested his bald head back against his chair, shaking his head. “Kieran, it’s been two years. Two years.”

  “Is that the marker Joe? Two years? On day 732 the pain should be gone?”

  “I am going to excuse myself from this case, I have to. It’s not ethical for me to continue hearing any case with regards to you,” he said, standing and walking toward the door leading into the courtroom.

  Extending my arms to my side, I pleaded, “Joe, please. Give me another shot. I’m trying, I swear—I’ll do anything.”

  He didn’t turn around, just simply said, “This is it, Kieran. I made a promise to your parents and I intend to uphold it. Get back out there and take your seat.”

  Once the case was recalled the attorneys and the judge carried on a conversation without me at the bench, making me nervous. The dickhead from the bar was not going to press charges; I knew that. But Joe was scheming.

  “We are back on the record in case number 14CR1932,” the judge stated.

  “Your honor, the state is requesting the case be continued for 90 days,” Shauna said.

  “Ninety days?” I asked, appalled.

  “Mr. Scott, you have an attorney. No interruptions,” Judge Joe said gravely, and I struggled to hold my hand down where the urge to flip the bird was straining.

  I leaned in to speak to Jason and he abruptly stood.

  “Yes, Judge. We agree to the ninety days and to the condition in the interim.”

  “What condition? And WE didn’t agree to anything,” I argued.

  “Perfect,” Judge said and rose out of his chair. “Shauna. Draw up a journal entry orde
ring the therapy, the 48 hour sanction if he’s in another fight, and schedule a review hearing for 90 days.”

  “Therapy?” I questioned. I didn’t need fucking therapy.

  But when the gavel hit the little piece of wood, Joe smirked as he stepped away from the bench, and as my attorney signed whatever it was that Shauna handed him, I knew I was royally screwed.

  ****

  Exactly four freaking days later, I’m sitting, infuriated, in a stark white waiting room with three other people, who clearly do need therapy. My anxiety was high at the idea of seeing my new ‘therapist’, Megan Clark. There’s an overly dressed guy next to me and by overly dressed—I mean like four shirts, two scarves and sweats tucked into his two pairs of socks. He looks like a damn idiot, not to mention he keeps repeating to himself under his breath, “1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3,” Repeat!

  The older woman two chairs away snickered uncontrollably staring at nothing but her hands, which left me curious as to what amused her, but the incessant stream of ‘1, 2, 3,’ being whispered over and over again reminded me I really didn’t want to know. The other young girl, who wasn’t half bad looking, kept crossing and uncrossing her legs…I mean like as soon as she got them crossed, she’d uncross and cross again.

  “1,2,3,”

  More snickering from the lady.

  Give me a fucking bullet for my head!!

  Leaning forward, I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands. This was great!!

  “Mr. Scott?”

  When I glanced up, I popped wood at the fair-skinned redhead calling my name. Banging redheads…I’d done my share. This girl was more a strawberry blonde and her eyebrows a bit darker. Wonder if she’s a true redhead?

  Happy to be freed from psychotic hell, I willingly went with the hot-ass assistant, feeling a little saner simply leaving that room.

  “Hey, how’s it goin’?” I asked in my husky tone that sent most girls swooning.

  “Fine. Thank you. How are you today?”

  As I walked behind her, I studied the way her tan dress slacks hugged her tiny ass. Almost too tiny.

  “I’m dandy. What’s your name?”

  She shook her head as I adjusted my nuts.

  “Is that not OK? Can I not ask your name? Will I get in trouble with your boss?” I laughed.

  A soft chuckle resonated up her throat as I made a mental note to get her number before I left.

  “Right in here, please,” she said ushering me through a doorway. “It’s certainly OK to ask my name and I don’t think my boss would care. I’m Megan Clark.”

  Of course she was! What the hell…

  “You’re the shrink?” I asked rolling my eyes and falling onto a small loveseat.

  After closing the door, she took a seat near me. “I’m not a shrink.”

  The office was small, smelled nice…feminine. The walls were bare and the small bookcase was about half full of textbooks.

  “What are you?” Besides hot as hell.

  “I’m a registered master level psychologist.”

  That got her another eye roll from me.

  “Are my credentials not up to par for you, Mr. Scott?”

  I shrugged. “A master’s degree, huh?”

  “That’s right,” she crossed her thin legs, eyes never straying from me. After a long minute of silence, she said, “What would you like to talk about today?”

  “How old are you?”

  “Mr. Scott, I’m not sure why my age would be relevant.”

  Getting comfortable, I put my brown, leather boot on the hassock.

  “Well, you seem young. Seems odd telling my deepest, darkest secrets to a young girl. How long have you done this?”

  She wrote on a pad of paper…I’m sure it was about me.

  “I assure you, if I don’t feel like I can meet your needs then I will refer you to a colleague.”

  This amused me for some reason. I decided it was time for her to meet the real Kieran. I slid forward in my seat which put me a little closer to her, rested my elbows on my knees then I leaned just a bit closer, and allowed my eyes to skid down her slim body and back up to those pink, full lips.

  “Doc, I have no doubt that you could meet my needs,” I said with a wink. “And I could certainly meet yours.” A promise lingered in my words.

  Her hair was long enough that if she were naked she could use it to cover her breasts. I stared at the swells extending beneath her blouse. Those suckers were real. Average size, I would guess. But real meant feeling and I loved when a girl could get the entire feel of what I was doing to her. Otherwise, what’s the point?

  “That’s all well and good, Mr. Scott, but your penis is really not my specialty.”

  She was bright. Witty. I flashed my best smile at her. Usually, I didn’t have to use my smile but it seemed necessary. I held out hope as I watched her cheeks tinge pink.

  “Someday, perhaps I’ll show you my specialty,” I added.

  A slight condescending giggle echoed in her throat. More writing on the notepad. This annoyed me. There was no way she couldn’t find me attractive. I glanced down at what I was wearing. Jeans. My boots. My navy Harley shirt. Slowly and deliberately my eyes slid back up to her, but she was looking at that damn pad.

  “What are you writing? Arrogant? Pompous? Asshole? What you think of me? Please do tell.”

  Her long lashes blinked up at me and her gray eyes found mine. Gray. I’d never seen gray eyes before. She looked at me like Superman looked through lead and I glanced away shifting my posture in the chair.

  “Does it really matter what I think of you?” She asked, somewhat cold.

  “Nope. I don’t really give a shit. I’m here because I have to be. Ninety days.”

  She nodded. “I think that’s a great attitude, Mr. Scott. I wouldn’t utilize this opportunity either. Why would you not want to be so angry? Why would you want to get over the loss of your parents? Why would you not want to go to jail?” she spat out, turning toward her desk and shutting me out. “I think that’s a mature plan you have there.”

  With those words, my blood boiled. I’ll be damned if she was going to manipulate me, I didn’t give a shit how hard she got my dick. I shot toward her, bent down over the side of her desk where her hair flitted over the papers while she outright ignored me as I whispered, “Ask me how many fucks I give what you think of me. The best thing to come out of this would be a quick lay at best. And that would only be if I could get it up for you. But don’t you dare act like you know me because of something you read in a damn file. You got that, Doc?”

  In a flash of rage, I gripped the knob in my hand, twisted and pulled the door open just as she hit the door shut, her sharp eyes glaring through me.

  For a redhead, she had very few freckles. Only a select few light brown flecks decorated her creamy skin that I wanted to touch. Her freaking lips were perfectly rounded and full. Fuck her!

  “I am not a doctor. You may call me Megan or Ms. Clark.”

  I twisted the knob again and she pushed against the door. Did she really think I wouldn’t win this battle?

  “You’re adorable when you’re angry,” I quipped with my jaw set tight.

  “Don’t flatter yourself, Mr. Scott. Your face is just a little too pretty for my tastes and for the record, if you don’t show up on Friday, there will be a warrant issued for your arrest through the court. Comply or don’t, I don’t give a shit either.”

  This time I used more force opening the door and she backed down.

  “This has been fun. I’m outta here, Doc.” And for good measure, I shut the door as quietly as I could to let her know she didn’t get to me.

  Her shouting echoed through the door “Perfect. Erectile dysfunction will be our first order of business on Friday.”

  Despite my grin, I swear to God I thought I was going to spontaneously combust! Fuck this therapy bullshit, Joe!

  Chapter 2—Megan

  The door closed a little too slowly for the way I was feeling�
��about to freaking explode. After the door quietly latched, annoying me instantly, I professionally screamed through the wood, “Perfect. Erectile dysfunction will be our first order of business on Friday.”

  I stormed back to my desk and collapsed in my chair, my whole body trembling. My hands shook so badly, I couldn’t write or type a note regarding the session. And what would I write anyway? Sexually attracted to new male client. Rock hard massive body. Breathtaking brown eyes. Dark hair. Freaking Greek God is what he was. Jesus, the way his brown eyes devoured every inch of me. And every single inch of me refused to flinch, squirm or melt in front of him.

  He was also damn perceptive. I was young. But he was only three years older. Still the youngest client Joe Phillips had sent to me. Joe graciously gave this job to me on a grant from the court, and then he’d helped further by referring a few clients to me. I’d only gotten five clients thus far so money was tight, to say the least. But Kieran was by far the hottest client I’d had. Hell, he was the hottest guy I’d ever laid eyes on. Of course he was a criminal. I rubbed my eyes with the heel of my palms.

  And if that arrogant ass thought he would get in the way of my job…he was wrong. I tossed my pen, unable to make any sort of notes.

  What pissed me off more than Kieran raging out was that I hadn’t even been attracted to a man in a long while. As I literally threw my stuff into my briefcase, I couldn’t help but think about Jared.

  Jared, the one name that still sent shivers through me. No, I wouldn’t let myself think about him now. I didn’t want to remember what started as a whirlwind romance and quickly ended with me in the battered women’s shelter. Two years had passed since I escaped to the place where I met Vivian. I inhaled a slow, deep breath as I thought about her encouraging me to never fall for such a slew of apologetic bullshit again.