“Yes, I’ve heard of Charlie’s.”
“Ya ought to come by and let me buy you a drink.”
“I’ll have to really consider such a tempting offer. Thank you.” She glanced down at the paper and made some notes, then looked back at him. “Can you tell me about your acting ability?” She was getting a taste of it right now.
He sucked in air through his nose, making a disgusting sound that caused her stomach to churn. During his outrageous lie, she noticed how often he scratched his head, his ear, then underneath his arm. She hoped monkey-boy didn’t have fleas.
She kept her focus on him, although her mind drifted. She especially thought about her next appointment. Brock. It surprised her to think she’d be so anxious to see him again. It had only been a few days, and here she was eager for their session, yet she knew she had to tell him that she’d already referred him to Doctor Fairchild.
There was a brief pause in Eddie’s speech, and she stood and placed the paper and pen on her desk.
“Thank you for coming. I’ll certainly give a lot of thought to your resume.”
His brows knitted, but he rose to his feet. “That’s it?”
“Yes.”
“But…well, I thought there’d be more.”
“I’m sorry. Not this time.”
In two steps he stood before her, his eyes dark with anger. She braced her hands on the desk as she fell back on it.
“You’ve already decided I’m not good enough for you, right?”
“I don’t know why you’re getting upset. I probably won’t make my decision for at least a couple more days.”
He grabbed her shoulders and yanked her up against him. Up this close, the alcohol on his breath overpowered her. She forced herself not to vomit.
“You haven’t even sampled my charms.”
Her hands pressed hard against his chest as she tried to move him away. “Take your hands off me.”
“Tell you what—let Eddie give you a little kiss, and I bet I can convince you I’m the right man for the job.”
“And I’ll tell you what. You will turn around and get out of my office before I call security.”
His sick, deep laughter made her shudder. “Come on, just one kiss. That’s all I ask.”
She reacted quickly, brought her knee up and connected it with his groin. The disgruntled sounds coming from his throat as he crumbled, let her know she succeeded. She kept herself from spitting in his face while he was down, but turned and leaned over her desk, pushing the red emergency button.
The siren shrieked. Two security guards and Erica rushed into the room.
She prayed the meeting with Brock would go much smoother than this one.
* * * *
“Good afternoon, Doctor Reed,” Brock greeted, as he walked in for his appointment.
Jordan was her old self again, hair pulled back tight into a knot, old lady’s clothes covering her from knee to wrist to neck. Those familiar, unflattering reading glasses sat perched on her nose. He wished she wouldn’t wear them so he could see the beautiful ocean blue of her eyes a little better.
He scolded himself for thinking that way. Time to focus on his plan to play on the doctor’s weakness.
“Hello, Brock. I’m surprised to see you so soon. Wasn’t it just two days ago we had our last visit?”
He tried not to grin. She’d been counting. It’d been forty-eight very long hours, especially when she didn’t come to the bar the next day like she’d promised. He hated himself for actually waiting and being disappointed when she didn’t show.
“Yes, it was.” He put a little more whine to his speech, just so she wouldn’t recognize the man’s voice from the bar.
He moved to the brown leather couch and plopped down. She sat in her regular chair.
“Brock, I must tell you of a decision I’ve made.”
He crinkled his forehead. “What’s that?”
“Because of what happened during our last session, I feel it appropriate that you see another psychiatrist.” She lifted a business card out of her notebook. “I studied with Doctor Fairchild in college. He’s very good.”
He shook his head. “Are you saying you don’t want to help me?”
She took a deep breath, keeping a smile. “It’s not that I don’t want to help you, it’s just that, well...I don’t want a repeat of our last session.”
Panic suffocated him, closed around his throat, and threatened to cut off his air supply. She couldn’t do this. How else would he bring her down? “But I thought you said our role playing helped me.”
She shrugged. “It did help in your progression, but it went against my professional ethics.”
He hung his head and stared at his clasped hands. How could he make her change her mind? She couldn’t let him go. Not now. Not today, especially.
“So, are you saying I can’t talk to you today?” he mumbled.
She released a deep sigh. “I really shouldn’t—”
Hearing the hesitancy in her voice, he snapped his head up and met her stare. “But you will, right?”
“I would rather wait to schedule you with Doctor Fairchild.”
Failing was not on his list of things to do today. He couldn’t walk out of here. Not yet. He slumped in the couch and covered his face with his hands.
“Fine,” he grumbled. “It doesn’t matter, anyway.”
“Brock, look at me.” Her stern voice boomed through the air. “I don’t want you to take it personally.”
He shrugged. “Do what you want. I know the real reason. You don’t care. You really don’t care what happens to me.”
“Brock, you’re wrong.”
He continued in his pathetic voice. “It doesn’t matter that something happened between me and Lanie, and I felt you needed to know.”
“Brock? What happened?”
Her tone sounded different this time. Sympathetic. Worried. He dropped his hands and looked at her. She had leaned forward, her beautifully arched brows drawn in worry.
“Did you tell your girlfriend you know?” she asked.
“Well, no. Not really.”
“Then what happened?”
Breathing easier that she might talk to him this time, he swiped his fingers through his unkempt hair. He let out a heavy sigh, hoping to appear like a guilt-stricken man. “I almost told her I knew, but at the last minute, I couldn’t go through with it.”
“What?” Her voice escalated. “Tell me what happened.”
He wanted to smile, but he kept the excitement controlled, for now. So far, so good. “After our session the other day, I went home, feeling like I had the courage to face Lanie. When I drove to the house, the other car wasn’t there. I walked inside. At first I thought she wasn’t home. When I reached the bedroom, she was redoing her makeup. I think I’d just missed catching them together. When she looked at me, she even appeared shocked to see me home from work.”
Taking a deep breath, he tried to keep his expression blank as he focused on the sorrowful man he portrayed. “My mind snapped, and I couldn’t control myself or my thoughts. I wanted to punish her. I wanted to shake her and demand her tell me why…why she’d do that with my best friend. Why she didn’t love me any longer.”
Jordan’s eyebrows drew together, so he continued, “She was sitting on a stool at her vanity. I walked up behind her and rested my hands on her shoulders as I looked at her through the mirror. She had a hard time meeting my eyes. She tried to tell me that she came home from work early because she’d had a headache, but that she felt better so she was fixing herself up to return to work.” Slowly, he shook his head. “I told her I didn’t believe her.”
Jordan’s slender throat constricted before she licked her lips. “Then what happened?”
“She first tried to tell me I was crazy…that I was being too suspicious. When she could see I wasn’t budging, she tried to change the subject, but I wouldn’t let her.” He took a deep breath. “I told her that I’d been noticing her aloof
ness toward me lately, and I wanted to know why she was pulling away. I even told her that I felt she didn’t love me any longer.”
He paused, studying Jordan’s expression. She looked worried over what he was saying.
“What was her response to that?” she asked softly.
“She pouted and complained that she was putting in too many hours at work and tired all the time, and that was why I probably thought she was pulling away.”
Brock stood and walked to the window, shuffling his feet on the way for dramatics only. He spoke over his shoulder, but focused out the window. “Emotion was so tight in my throat right then, I was afraid that if I said anymore I’d cry. Yet, at the same time, I was so angry at her for not confessing to me what she and my best friend were doing, that I wanted to wrap my hands around her neck—” for emphasis, he shaped his fingers in front of him like he was choking someone— “and squeeze as hard as I could.”
He glanced at Jordan still perched on the edge of her seat. Her fingers clutched the pad and pencil, her knuckles white. A bead of moisture formed on her forehead, and it made his heart quicken to know she was caught up in his story. This was getting to her, and he loved the powerful feeling it gave him.
“What did you do, Brock?” she coaxed, her voice so low he almost couldn’t hear.
“I—I couldn’t.” He turned away from her and looked out the window. “In my mind I knew I couldn’t do what anger was pushing me to do. Just because she was breaking my heart, lying and cheating on me, didn’t mean I should do something stupid, too.” For further effect, he swiped his fingers through his hair. “I knew my anger controlled me, and I couldn’t go through with it. Choking her wasn’t worth going to prison over. She’s not worth it.”
The leather on Jordan’s chair squeaked as she moved. The clicking of her heels on the floor grew louder, the closer she came. The warmth from her hand gently brushed his shoulder. It was all he could do not to turn and take her in his arms, especially when her rose scent drifted around him, bringing with it images of him kissing her the other day at the bar.
Good grief, he needed to stay focused!
“Brock, I’m glad you didn’t follow through with your urges. You did a good thing.”
“You don’t know how badly I wanted to.” He shook his head. “After I left the house and went back to work, I felt like such a loser. No wonder she turned to my best friend. In her eyes, I’m not a man.” He paused, then added, making his voice crack, “The sad thing is, I agree with her. I’m not a real man—not the kind she wants.” His hands covered his face for better effect.
“Brock, you shouldn’t say things like that. They are not true.”
She maneuvered him around to face her, and he let her control the situation. She pulled at his hands. He let them fall away from his face. He tried to project utter despair, making his lips tremble.
“It’s not your fault,” she said.
He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the caring look in her amazing eyes.
“Lanie chose this herself. It had nothing to do with you. There is nothing wrong with you.”
“I disagree, Doctor Reed. Apparently I wasn’t man enough to confront her, which means, I’m not a man. I’m a wimp…a coward.”
“And if you had truly strangled her, you’d be a murderer. Now tell me Brock, which is worse? Personally, I’d rather have a wimpy man than one who has killing instincts in him.”
As she studied his face, his heartbeat picked up rhythm. He hoped she couldn’t see the resemblance between him and the man she’d met in the bar. Not seeing the light of recognition in her eyes, he sighed in relief. Her smile warmed him, comforted, and made him want her that much more.
Good grief! What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he stop thinking about kissing her—and hoping to get another chance? This time, it had nothing to do with getting her license revoked.
“Brock, come here. I want you to see something.”
She sparked his curiosity, and he followed her across the room to a full-length mirror on a closet door. “Do you see that handsome man in there?”
Handsome? Who was she looking at? He was dressed—and acted—like a pathetic man. “No.”
“Well, I do. I see a man who has been hurt, but who will recover.”
Her gaze roamed over his face, wandered down his baggy shirt, and to his over-sized jeans. Her cheeks flushed red as she quickly looked back in his eyes. He liked seeing her flustered this way, and he fought the smile trying to sneak across his face.
“I see a man who needs to look at himself in the mirror a lot more.” She paused. “Brock? Tell me what you see.”
“A loser.” Although he meant it to be serious, an unexpected laugh sprang from his throat, widening his smile.
She chuckled with him. “Brock, I’m serious.”
She’s so pretty when she smiles. He shook away the thought.
“Okay, I see…” He paused, not really knowing what to say. “I don’t know what I see. I see a man who needs…a makeover.” Once again, he couldn’t stop the laugh from escaping his chest. Shoot! His character was slipping.
Jordan folded her arms across her chest. Tilting her head, she gave him a quizzical look with arched eyebrows. “For a man who is down on himself, you’re not showing it very well.”
He sucked in his breath. Did that mean she was onto him? He turned and faced her. “When you stand there and laugh at me, what else am I supposed to do?”
“I wasn’t laughing at you. I was laughing with you.”
He softened his smile as he gazed into her lovely blue eyes. They twinkled like gems. How he wanted to take her in his arms…just to touch her again. Going with his instincts, he reached up and stroked her cheek. Suddenly, her face lost its humor and her eyes widened. Her body stiffened, but she didn’t pull away.
“Brock you mustn’t touch me like that. I’m your doctor.”
“No, you’re not. You’ve referred me to another doctor, remember?”
She shook her head. “But still…”
He interrupted her before she could change the subject. “Doctor Reed, I really appreciate your kind words, but I’m not ready to look at myself in the mirror. I’m not ready to evaluate why I feel the way I do, or why I look the way I do.”
She grabbed his fingers, but he clasped onto her hand, unwilling to let go. She opened her mouth to stop him, so he said, “I know you don’t really think I’m handsome, but thanks for the compliment.”
“Brock, you’re wrong. You are a very handsome man, inside and out.”
She struggled to pull her hand away, but he kept it in his grasp. “No, I’m a beast. Why else would I have thoughts about choking Lanie?”
“Those type of urges are normal when you’ve had your heart stomped on, but what makes you a good person is that you didn’t act on them. You controlled yourself before letting your anger guide you into doing something awful.” She yanked her hands away, and her chest heaved a sigh.
“Doctor Reed, can I ask you a personal question?”
Her eyes widened in panic, but she remained in her professional mode. “What would you like to know?”
“You just said it was a normal reaction to get such urges, and I wondered if you have ever gotten the urge to do something totally unlike yourself. To give into your anger regardless of what you think is the right thing to do.”
The color on her face brightened. “I think everybody feels like that when the person they love cheats on them.”
He licked his lips. Her attention strayed to that spot. “No, I mean have you ever acted irresponsible? Ever? Have you ever let your urges get out of control?”
Different emotions flickered across her face, as if she struggled with her composure. She couldn’t meet his stare, yet her gaze kept moving back to his eyes. Her chest heaved rapidly.
“Brock,” she said in her proper, controlled tone of voice. “One should always act responsibly when they are angered. In this day and age, it could be dangerous n
ot to. Besides, we are not here to talk about my life, but to discuss yours.”
He turned his back to her. “You don’t have to say another word. I can see it on your face. My touch and my choice of conversation makes you sick, just like it does to Lanie.”
“Brock, you’ve misread me. Please turn around so we can discuss this.”
“No, I think it’s time for me to leave.” He took a step, but she stopped him by moving around in front of him, blocking his path. Her stern, unwavering look and thin lips let him know he was not going to leave her office.
Good. Maybe something would happen like it had during their last session.
She stood like a soldier preparing for battle with her hands planted on her hips. “No, it’s not time to leave. I’m not letting you go when you feel like this.” She took a deep breath. “You’ve got it all wrong.”
“Then why did you act that way?”
She gave an uneasy laugh. “Why? Because I’m not used to talking about my life, that’s why. I don’t want my clients to think I have feelings, too,” she ended softly. “I have been hurt before. My heart has been stomped on, just as yours has. And yes, I’ve been so hurt and angry that I actually wanted to strangle the man who made me feel that kind of weakness.” She took a deep breath. “But you are my client, not the other way around. I’m here to help you, not the other way around.”
“What about my touch?”
“I’m not appalled by your touch, it’s just that...well, that....”
She was certainly uncomfortable. A grin tugged at his lips, but he fought it. “Go on.”
“I’m your doctor, Brock.”
“Not anymore.”
“But I shouldn’t be reacting this way at all. It’s not proper for you to touch me in a personal way.”
“So, are you saying you do have feelings? You do enjoy my touch?” She didn’t answer him, so he continued. “Maybe it’s not proper, but I can’t help how I feel. You say I misread you, so tell me right out. Do you enjoy my touch?”
His stare locked with hers, he waited for her answer. Her face turned a brilliant red, her breathing grew rapid, and her lips parted. This conversation must really be disturbing her. He lifted his hand back to her cheek, careful as he waited for her reaction. Her throat jumped, and he swallowed hard.
Finding the Perfect Man Page 6
