by HELEN HARDT
A good therapist should have been able to tell. Frantically I searched the file, looking for something—anything—I had missed.
I eyed the cordless phone on my night table. So many times I’d been tempted to pick it up and call Gina’s parents, to offer my apology. I’d tried a few days after her death, but her mother had refused to take my call, and I’d been advised by counsel not to contact them again.
I had never been sued before, and I had no reason to believe I would be now.
Of its own accord, my hand reached for the phone. It was eight p.m., not too late to call. Without thinking, I dialed the number of Gina’s parents in Denver.
“Hello?” a masculine voice said.
I quickly ended the call.
What had I been thinking? I stuffed the papers back into Gina’s file. I got up. Maybe a nice warm bath would help. I stripped off my clothes, put on a robe, and was heading toward my bathroom door when my phone rang.
A quick look at the caller ID, and my heart sank. The number I’d just called. Shit. What had I done? I couldn’t ignore the call. Well, I could, but they could easily find out who the number belonged to. No, best to deal with the consequences now.
I picked up the cordless. “Hello?”
“Yes.” A throat cleared. “We just got a call from this number?”
“Is this Mr. Cates?”
“Dr. Cates, yes.”
Right. He had a Ph.D. in linguistics. “I’m sorry to disturb you. This is Melanie Carmichael. I was your daughter Gina’s therapist. Yes, I did try calling earlier, but the call didn’t go through. I thought I would try again in the morning.” I bit my lip, hoping he’d buy the lie.
“What is it that you want, Dr. Carmichael?”
I cleared my throat this time. “I just wanted to check in with you and your wife. See if there was anything I could do for you.”
“We are doing as well as can be expected. The loss of our daughter has been hard to bear.”
“I’m sure it has been. It’s been weighing heavily on my mind as well. I’m so very sorry for your loss.”
“Yes, I’m sure you are.”
What was that supposed to mean? I had no idea. This call had been a mistake. I knew better than to let my emotions get the better of me. “Gina was a very special person.” I bit my lip. I wanted to say that she was in a better place, that she was happier now, free of the burdens of this life, but I didn’t know what his beliefs were, and I wasn’t sure I believed that stuff myself. Instead I said, “If there’s anything I can do for you, please don’t hesitate to let me know. I apologize for intruding on your evening. Good night.”
Dr. Cates said nothing, so I ended the call.
Gina hadn’t left a suicide note other than the letter she sent to me. I hadn’t shared that with her parents, and they hadn’t asked for anything from me. Should I have told them about the letter? It was personal, not part of the record, and I was not obligated to divulge it to them. Plus, I wasn’t sure how they would feel about their daughter falling in love with her female therapist. She told me herself she had only dated men, so they probably had no idea she was gay or bisexual.
If only I could go back—go back and do something differently—Gina might be alive today.
But there was no going back. Like Jonah Steel, I was filled with guilt. Filled with a case of the “what ifs.” How many times had I told my patients not to play the “what if” game? It was damned good advice, too. Still, I couldn’t help playing the game myself. What if I had done something differently? What if I had seen that she was harboring feelings for me? What if I had seen something to indicate she was suicidal?
But I hadn’t.
And I couldn’t go back in time, as much as I wished to.
A couple of days later, when Randi gave me my schedule for the day, I widened my eyes.
“Jonah Steel?”
“Yeah. He called yesterday, and you had an opening because Macy Andrews canceled at the last minute. So I slipped him in.”
“Okay.” I had neglected to tell Randi not to schedule him again. Honestly, I hadn’t thought about it. I figured he wouldn’t call after the last time. “I won’t be seeing him as a patient anymore, but there was no reason for you to know that. I’ll call him myself and cancel.”
“I’m happy to do that for you, Dr. Carmichael.”
“No, I need to do this. Thanks, though.”
I closed my door behind me and headed to my desk. I grabbed Jonah’s file and found his number. And of course I got voice mail.
“This is Jonah Steel. Please leave a message.”
Short and sweet. Very Jonah-like. “Hello. This is Melanie Carmichael. I see you scheduled an appointment for this afternoon at three. I’m afraid I have to cancel. As you know, given what happened the other day, I can’t see you professionally anymore. I’m happy to recommend another therapist. I wish you the best.”
Good. That was that. Hopefully he’d get the message.
And then suddenly I knew he wouldn’t. So I got online and looked up the number for Steel Acres ranch. I tapped in the number.
“Steel Acres, may I help you?”
“Yes, please, I’d like to speak to Jonah Steel.”
“I’m sorry. Mr. Steel isn’t in the office. He’s in the pastures, and he’s going to the city this afternoon for an appointment.”
Of course. An appointment. With me.
“May I take a message?”
“Yes, this is Dr. Melanie Carmichael. I have to cancel his appointment for this afternoon. Please let him know.”
“Did you try his cell phone? He won’t be back in the office today.”
“I did, but I would appreciate if you could also try to get the message to him.”
“Of course. I’ll do my best.”
But it wouldn’t happen. Jonah would not get my message, or if he did, it wouldn’t matter. He would show up in my office at three o’clock today.
“Sorry, I didn’t get a message.” His eyes glinted with mischief.
He had gotten my message, all right.
It wouldn’t do any good to fight him on it. He was here, so I’d say my piece in person.
“Mr. Steel.”
“Jonah.”
“Fine, Jonah. You cannot be here. You know why—because of my unprofessional behavior the last time you were here. I should not have kissed you. That effectively destroyed any doctor-patient relationship we had.”
“Well, you’re the only therapist I want. If I can’t talk to you, I don’t want to talk to anyone.”
“Jonah, you’re putting me between a rock and a hard place. I want you to have therapy.”
“Then give me therapy. Here I am.”
I sighed. “Look, I have this hour available. Let’s talk if you want to talk. But it will be like two friends talking. This won’t be therapy. I won’t charge you for it.”
“That doesn’t seem very fair.”
I shook my head. “I feel very strongly about this. I won’t charge you. Just two friends talking.”
He smiled. “What if I want to be more than friends?”
“Oh my God, you’re not making this easy.”
“Good things never come easy, Melanie.”
“Just sit down,” I said. “Since you’re determined to be here, let’s at least talk about something.”
“Okay. Last time you asked me to think about what I was truly responsible for.”
Had I? Normally I reviewed the patient’s file prior to a session, but because I didn’t have any intention of having a session with Jonah, I hadn’t. “That’s right. So let’s start there.”
“I am responsible for the beef ranch.”
“And?”
“That’s it.”
“All right. So you’re responsible for the beef ranch. Technically, that’s all you’re responsible for.”
“Yes.”
“Now, what do you feel responsible for?”
He sighed. “Everything. I feel responsible for ev
erything, Melanie.”
Chapter Seven
Jonah
Her beautiful emerald eyes focused intently on me. Melanie Carmichael was an old soul. Until now, I had never believed in any of that crap. But those eyes… They had seen things. Things I couldn’t even begin to imagine.
“You know what I mean, don’t you, Melanie?”
She chewed on her bottom lip.
She knew.
“Yes, I do know what you mean. For people in your situation, it’s very common.”
I shook my head. “No, that’s not what I mean. I mean you know. You, personally, know.”
She said nothing, just looked down at her hands folded in her lap.
“You gnaw on that lower lip of yours any more, and you’re liable to draw blood.”
“We’re not here to talk about me.”
“Why not? This is just a friend talking to a friend, remember? This isn’t therapy. Those are your rules. Not mine.”
She looked at me, her green eyes glaring. “What makes you think I’m your friend?”
“Isn’t that what you said? It would be like a friend talking to a friend? I think you’re the one who said we were friends, Mel.”
“No one calls me Mel.”
“It’s a spunky name.” I smiled. “I feel like you need a little spunk in your life.”
“You don’t know me well enough to know what I need.”
“Melanie it is, then. I’d like to get to know you. Melanie.”
She gnawed on that lower lip again. Damn, she was sexy. Her lips were already red as currants, but when she nibbled on them like that, they turned a deeper burgundy. Melanie Carmichael had great lips.
“So why do you think you’re responsible for everything?” she asked.
Back to that, were we? Well, I could play this game. “I don’t really know. Why do you think you’re responsible for everything?”
There went the teeth on the lip again. “I don’t.”
Maybe she didn’t. Maybe I was misreading her. But I was pretty sure little miss therapist had her own baggage. And I was going to find out what it was.
“Let me answer your question. I don’t really know why I feel responsible. I am the oldest, and my father told me to protect my younger brothers. Marjorie too, when she came along. Although at that point, I had already failed miserably protecting my brother.”
“And you never got over that.”
“No, I didn’t. And there’s something you never got over as well, isn’t there?”
“I don’t want to talk about me.”
“All right. That’s fair. Tell me how I can help myself, then. Tell me how I can leave all this fucking guilt at the door and have a good life. Because that’s what I want, Melanie. I want a good life, a life of happiness and wonder. A life filled with love. How do I find that?”
Her green eyes misted over. Hell, I hadn’t meant to make her cry. It looked like the waterworks were coming. I wanted to go to her, force her out of the chair, and hold her, tell her everything was all right.
But I didn’t know if everything was all right.
I sure as hell didn’t know how to get away from my own guilt. How could I help her with hers? She was the therapist, not me. I stayed seated, willing my body to relax. This was her office. She hadn’t come to me like she had the last time. When she’d rushed toward me and launched herself at my heart, I hadn’t known what to do. So I’d done nothing, just held her, and then she pulled me down for that kiss—that amazing kiss.
I had never experienced a kiss like that. Never. Not even in my younger days.
“Melanie? Are you going to answer me?”
“I…”
“What?”
“I just can’t. I can’t tell you how to get over the guilt, Jonah, because I just don’t know how to do it for myself.”
“I don’t believe that for a minute. You’re the best of the best.”
“I specialize in childhood trauma. Not adult guilt.”
“Then why did you agree to see me?”
She shrugged, looking away. “Talon asked me to. He was worried about you after you were found nearly beaten to death. And I also didn’t realize…”
“What?”
“That we would…” She sighed.
“That we would be so attracted to each other?”
She nodded.
“Well, I’m about as attracted to you as I’ve ever been to anyone. You’re beautiful. I can see everything in those gorgeous green eyes of yours. You’ve felt things, experienced things. And physically, your damn near perfect. Your blond hair is like silk flowing over your shoulders, and your body—”
She looked away. “There’s nothing special about my body. Nothing special at all.”
“While I haven’t had the pleasure of seeing it—unclothed, that is—I think you’re probably wrong about that.”
“I’m not curvy enough. I’m too tall.”
“You don’t look too tall from where I’m standing.”
“Most men aren’t as tall as you.”
“My sister stands near six feet tall. I’m used to tall women. I like tall women.”
She said nothing, just chewed on her bottom lip.
“Listen, I’m attracted to you, and I know you’re attracted to me. Okay, so we both have issues. Maybe we both need some therapy. But can’t we get to know each other? It’s been a long time since I met a woman who I want to get to know, Melanie.”
“I’m not who you think I am.”
“I know you’re brilliant. I know how far you brought my brother in just a few months. And I know you’ve done that for others as well. So you’re feeling a little inadequate right now. Don’t we all feel like that from time to time? I’ve felt inadequate for the last twenty-five years of my life.”
“I have no business being in a relationship with you or anyone.”
Fine. “Who said anything about a relationship? Why don’t we just go to bed?”
She blushed from her forehead down to the tips of her fingers. My guess was she was pink all the way to her toes, though she was wearing pumps and I couldn’t see them.
“So I’ve embarrassed you?”
“I’m not used to men being so forward.”
“Hey, you started this. You kissed me the other day, remember?”
She blushed even rosier.
“Melanie, I’m not asking for your hand in marriage. I’m not even asking for anything beyond tomorrow. But why not? I fucking want you so much I can’t see straight. Let me take you to a hotel. Let me take you into my bed. I promise you that you won’t regret it.”
Chapter Eight
Melanie
I was too weak to resist him. He wanted me, and I wanted him. No reason to look beyond tomorrow.
In a pink haze, I somehow ended up in a suite at the Carlton with Jonah removing my clothes. I hadn’t said more than a few mumbled words since we’d left my office.
He brushed my blouse off my shoulders, and his breath caught on an audible inhale. “I don’t know why you said there is nothing special about your body. You’re beautiful.”
I warmed all over. With my pale skin, I easily colored like a raspberry.
He unhooked my bra, and my perfectly average breasts tumbled free.
Again I heard his breath.
“My God.” He sighed. “So fucking beautiful.”
He set me down on the bed. Then he lifted my hips and pulled my stretch pants and beige panties over them, down my legs, and off.
I sat there, naked, forcing myself not to cover my chest with my arms. Thankfully, I had shaved my legs yesterday, but my dark-blond bush was in full glory. I didn’t shave down there. What would he think about that?
I ceased worrying when he began to take off his clothes. He unbuttoned his paisley western shirt, and I bit my lip. With each new inch of bronze that was exposed, my heart beat faster. And then a little faster. A smattering of black and silver chest hair grew around his coppery nipples. He removed his shir
t and slung it over the back of a chair. He sat down next to me, and I sneaked a look at his crotch. Sure enough—the bulge.
I squirmed. I knew I was wet. I knew what he’d find when he looked between my legs.
He stood again, unbuckled his belt, unsnapped his jeans, each tiny zing of the teeth on his zipper growing louder. He pushed his jeans and boxers down and stepped out of them. And then he turned to face me.
I gasped.
He had the biggest dick I’d ever seen. For a minute, I wasn’t sure it would fit inside my thin body. As wet as I was at this moment, though, there probably wouldn’t be any trouble.
He smiled at my gasp. “See anything you like now?”
I warmed again. Was I capable of getting any redder?
He pulled me up to him and clasped my naked body to his. He kissed my neck, nibbling on it lightly, and then tugged on my earlobe.
“I’m going to fuck you every way possible this afternoon, Melanie. I’m going to have you up against the wall, on the bed, cowgirl, missionary, doggy—every position there is. We’re going to do it on the table over there. I’m going to fuck your brains out in every corner of this room.”
My knees buckled. Luckily he held me steady.
“I wanted to do this when I first laid eyes on you in that hotel bar. I wanted to take you back to my room. Everything I wanted to do to you that night, I’m going to do to you now, Melanie. Believe it.”
I had no reason not to believe it. I saw it in his eyes. Eyes never lied. I’d learned that through my business. Right now, Jonah Steel’s eyes said that he wanted me, and he was going to have me.
And I wouldn’t resist.
He took my lips with his. I opened for him immediately, and he swept his tongue into my mouth. Our lips were fused together, our tongues engaged in a duel. My God, I couldn’t get close enough to him. More. I want more.
He kissed me hard. This was no sweet kiss. This was the kiss of two people denied human contact for far too long. It wasn’t a kiss of passion. It was a kiss of need. Of urgency.
