by Roni Loren
It’d be easier to defend himself if it weren’t true.
He set a steaming latte on Ysa’s desk. “Good morning, sunshine.”
“Only fifteen minutes late. That’s almost early for you.” She took the offered coffee and sipped. “Mmm, the expensive stuff. This is why I put up with you.”
“She here yet?”
Ysa tilted her head toward his closed office door. “She got here early. Brought pastries for us. I gave her a quick tour, showed her the office she’ll be using, and then set her up in yours. Try not to scare her off, all right? I think I’m going to like this one.”
“Because she brought you croissants and showed up on time?”
“That doesn’t hurt.” She sipped her latte. “I’m easily bribed. But I will deny that if you call me out on it.”
“Noted.”
“But no. I liked talking with her. Did you know she developed a sex ed program for LGBT kids?”
“Yeah, I read through her research over the weekend. Robust program. Good stuff.”
“I would’ve killed to have that around when I was in high school.” She shook her head ruefully and then shrugged. “I guess I like that she spent all that time fighting for the underdog. The clients here need someone like that.”
He smiled. “I love that you see our wealthy, celebrity clients as underdogs.”
“Hey, people here are fighting a lot of demons. That’s David against Goliath if I’ve ever heard it. Money can’t always save you from yourself.”
“Ain’t that the truth.” He tossed his coffee cup in the trash. “Hold my calls for now. I need to get Dr. Rush up to speed on a few things, and then I’ll have her shadow me for the rest of the day on my appointments. You may want to warn the clients that I’ll have a second therapist in the room today.”
“Got it.”
He rolled his shoulders, trying to loosen the tension that was grabbing hold, and pushed open the door to his office. Today was going to be about training, but he had to get something out of the way first. He stepped inside his office and shut the door behind him.
Marin looked up from her spot on the couch, her hazel eyes widening for a moment before she smoothed her expression into one of professional passivity. She had her phone in her hand and she dropped it into her bag. “Good morning, Dr. West.”
“You only have to call me that in front of clients. I think we passed the formalities stage a long time ago. Don’t you?”
She gave a curt nod. “All right. Donovan, then.”
He tried not to focus on the way her pale pink gloss slid over her lips as she smoothed it. He’d sucked that bottom lip between his teeth. Tasted it. Focus, West. “So before we get started, how about we slay the elephant and get that out of the way first?”
Her hands were in her lap and they flattened against her thighs, like she was shoring herself up, preparing for impact. “Which elephant should we tackle first?”
He leaned against the edge of his desk and crossed his arms. “What do you mean?”
“Seems we have a herd. Or is it a parade of elephants? I can never remember.” She shook her head as if admonishing herself for the tangent. “So which one are you talking about? The fact that once upon a time we slept together? Or how about that you don’t want me here? Or is it the one where I ran into you half-dressed and covered in lipstick the day I interviewed?”
He cringed. “Yeah, sorry about that last one. I feel like a dick for not realizing who you were.”
She lifted a shoulder. “It’s been a long time. I wouldn’t have expected you to recognize me. We were kids.”
He frowned. “No, you were a kid.”
She had the decency to look chagrined. “Yeah, sorry about leaving that part out.”
He sighed. “Just please, please tell me you were at least eighteen.”
“I’d turned eighteen a few months before that.”
He tilted his head back and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Somehow, that doesn’t make me feel any better. I can’t believe you were that young. You seemed so smart and . . . poised.”
“Poised? Ha. I hope you’re a better read of people now than you were then. I was anything but. I was kind of a disaster.”
He lowered his head and peered at her. He could still see the girl she used to be in the curves of her face, but everything was more refined now, polished—the look in her eye world-weary. “I looked for you the next week.”
Her gaze slid away, refocusing on some invisible imperfection on her slacks. “I had to drop out for that semester. Family stuff. Long story.”
“Oh.” That wasn’t what he’d expected to hear. But her shoulders had curved inward, her entire posture closing off—don’t push. If they were in a session, he’d chase that rabbit. But she wasn’t his client. She wasn’t even his friend. It wasn’t his business. He leaned back on his hands. “As for that other elephant—that I don’t want you here—you’re wrong.”
Her attention flicked up at that, a don’t-bullshit-me look on her face. “You tried to talk Dr. Suri out of hiring me. I was sitting right there.”
“I wanted a more experienced therapist, yes. But that was nothing personal. I have a busy schedule and was hoping to have someone who could hit the ground running. I know what it’s like walking out of a research environment into a clinical one. It’s not an easy transition. The lab is all about facts and numbers and structure. Therapy is almost all feel and instinct and thinking on your feet.”
She uncrossed and recrossed her legs, meeting his gaze levelly though he could sense her nerves in the way she was holding her posture so rigidly. “I’m not going to pretend this isn’t new for me or that I don’t have a lot to learn. But I promise I’m more motivated than anyone to make this work. I work hard and learn fast. You tell me what you need me to do or learn or improve, and I’m going to do it.”
Donovan ignored the ping that went through him at her words. It’d been a long time since they’d shared those few days together, but he’d never forgotten the fantasies she’d helped him with, how she’d gotten turned on by the kinky ones. How willingly she’d melted under his touch. Tell me what to do, and I’m going to do it. He could think of more than a few things to put on that list. Starting with . . .
He pushed off the desk and put his back to her. Fuck. He couldn’t let his thoughts drift in that direction. He couldn’t make a move on her. She was going to be his trainee. His colleague. Beyond risking her feeling harassed, if he didn’t train her well, he’d lose the promotion, maybe even his job. And he couldn’t lose this goddamned job. He liked stretching the rules around here because he knew exactly how much he could get away with, but he never wanted to push over that danger line. And messing around with someone in his own department was past that line. This job was too important. Like the clients who came here, this place kept him sane, stable. The packed schedule. The challenge of it. The puzzle of figuring out how to help someone. It was his medicine. The rope that kept him tethered.
He stared out the window at the grounds and tucked his hands in his pockets, centering himself and bringing the focus back to the task at hand. “I want you to succeed here, Marin. Don’t doubt that. I’m going to train you to the best of my ability, and I have full confidence that you’ll catch on quickly. As for our past, I think we’re both grown-ups and can leave that where it is.” He paused, trying to let go of his dour thoughts and channel some levity. He smiled at his reflection in the window. “Unless you need to profess some undying love that’s been burning for me since you let me divest you of your virginity?”
* * *
Marin’s whirling work-related thoughts skidded to a halt, all of them falling off the edge at Donovan’s comment. Her lips parted.
But Donovan spun around, a devilish smile on his handsome face and his hands still tucked in his pockets. “That’s how it’s supposed to go, right? The guy who takes the V-card always has a special place. Research has proven it.” He put his hand on his chest. “Come on, did you
write my name in your notebooks with a heart around it? You can tell me. I’m a doctor.”
A choked laugh escaped her. “Research doesn’t say any such thing. Plus, your name would be too long to fit in a heart. And if you recall, I walked away from you that night, doctor. So you were probably the one pining over your misguided night with a teenager.”
He chuckled, the sound as rich and warm as she remembered. It softened some of those hard edges he’d acquired in the years since she’d known him, gentled the icy blue in his eyes. “Of course I was. There was bad poetry written. Sad songs played. I went through this weird emo/goth phase. It wasn’t pretty.”
“I’m sure,” she said dryly but let out an internal sigh of relief at his shift in mood. This was the Donovan she remembered. He was still in there somewhere. She could work with that guy. She wasn’t so sure about the other one.
He grinned, unrepentant. “See? You’re going to do just fine. There are two important requirements to work in this field: shamelessness and a sense of humor.” He raised a finger. “Oh, and the ability to keep a straight face no matter what.”
He gave her a super-serious therapist face.
She tried to give her own back to him, but she lost the staring contest and laughed.
He pointed at her. “All right. Elephants slain?”
He still hadn’t told her what he’d been doing in the parking lot in that half-dressed state, but it really wasn’t any of her business. “Sure. Bleeding on the floor.”
“Aw, poor elephants.”
He slipped off his suit jacket, hooked it around the back of his chair, and sat behind his desk in one gracefully executed maneuver—all confidence and swagger. The accomplished doctor. The ridiculously beautiful man. Donovan West was pure impact.
She had a feeling he was probably loved or hated around here, not much in between. He was a man who inspired reaction. He’d sure as hell always inspired one in her. Just not one that had any place at work.
Stop it. She sat up straighter, studiously ignoring how well his shoulders filled out that dress shirt, how the blue of his tie matched his eyes, and how his dark hair looked thick enough for her fingers to get lost in. Nope. Totally wasn’t going to pay attention to any of that.
He spread his fingers over the papers on his desk. “Okay, so I’m a big believer in learning by doing. You can read textbooks and academic journals until your brain explodes, but none of that is going to prepare you for when a client is there with you, asking for help. So most of this training is going to be you sitting in on sessions with me.”
Marin laced her hands together, trying to keep them still. She knew that experiential learning would be involved but anxiety still fizzed in her veins. “Okay.”
“And I don’t want you to feel like you have to stay silent. I’ll take the lead at first, but if you have something to add or a question to ask the client, go for it. I want you to participate. You may think of something I missed, which is always helpful. But it also makes people more comfortable if you’re part of the conversation and not just this stranger listening to them. If you go off track, I’ll help guide you back. Don’t be afraid to mess up. I’ve got your back.”
I’ve got your back. Images of being bent over that desk in the sleep lab, his hands on her hips, his body pumping into her, flashed through her mind. Heat crawled through her. Damn, she had to stop doing that. Why did he still have that effect on her? She was a grown woman, not some teenager with a crush. She really should’ve tried harder to find a guy in the last few years. It was screwing with her head that her only associations with actual sex involved this man. It was her only reference point. And it didn’t help that he was still so fucking attractive. Even more so now, if she was honest.
She cleared her throat, hoping her makeup covered the warmth that had rushed to her cheeks. “Telling a perfectionist not to be afraid to mess up is like telling the grass to stop being green.”
He gave her a half-smile. “Seeking perfection is the surest way to drive yourself crazy. Believe me. We’re an imperfect species. Good thing—since you and I would be out of jobs otherwise.” He leaned on his forearms, those blue eyes impossible to look away from. “But you’re not going to learn if you don’t take some risks. You’re not going to get in trouble for a mistake. I’m not your boss, and I’m not looking for reasons to mark off points. This is a team effort. Our goal is the same: Help the clients and keep Dr. Suri happy. That’s it.”
The sustained eye contact was almost too much. She released a breath and nodded. “Okay.”
“And you’ll learn quickly that we’re not very by-the-book around here anyway. People pay a lot of money to come to The Grove because we do take risks. We’re not afraid to try out experimental techniques or go about things from a different angle. The only rules you need to remember are that we’re here to diagnose and treat, not judge, that there has to be consent for every treatment we try, and that you have to keep your boundaries crystal clear with your clients. If you have those three things covered, you’re golden.”
“Got it.” She sat up straighter. “So what’s on the agenda today?”
Donovan checked his watch and stood. “An appointment in ten minutes.”
Her ribs cinched tight. “Right into the fire, huh?”
He smirked. “Is there any better place to be?”
She stood, smoothing her slacks just to give her fidgeting hands something to do. “Should I read the client’s chart first? Or maybe see the treatment plan? Are they going to be okay with me being in there? I don’t want to throw anyone off or compromise—”
“Whoa, there. Slow down.” He stepped around his desk.
She nodded, a quick, jerky gesture and her fists balled. Dammit. Dammit. Dammit. So much for calm, cool, collected Marin. She’d lose all freaking credibility if she had some kind of panic attack in his office before they even got started. “Okay. Right. Yes. Slow down. Sorry. I think I had too much coffee this morning.”
He stepped in front of her and took one of her clenched hands, smoothing it out and sandwiching her cold fingers between his warm palms. “Look at me.”
She did.
“Take a breath, Dr. Rush. You’ve got this.” He squeezed her hand, his attention not wavering from her face. “And even when you don’t, you’ve got me.”
His voice had lowered since he was close, and it reminded her of the long-ago voice on those private recordings, that sinful voice whispering filthy things in her ear. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to ignore the way his touch zinged up her arm, the way her heart went from jog to sprint. “I’m good. I’ll be fine. I just like to be prepared.”
“You’re as prepared as you’re ever going to be.” He let go of her hand, offering some relief from that electric sensation, but then he put his palm against the small of her back instead. Oh, that was so much worse. So. Much. Worse. Warmth curled up her spine. “Come on. You can get settled in the room before anyone shows up. Get your game face on.”
She let him lead her to the space next door, her heartbeat like a pulsing fist in her throat. She could do this. She had to.
He opened the door for her. Inside was a room much bigger than his office but matching the general decor she’d seen on the rest of the floor—modern touches tastefully mixed with a few antique pieces. Elegant but welcoming. Like a posh hotel. There were two heather-blue Victorian couches with curving wooden legs, a cushy armchair, and a pair of high-end desk chairs that rolled. Large black-and-white photos of various landscapes decorated the walls. And on one side of the room was a large plate-glass window that looked out onto the grounds, providing a gorgeous view. The desk was tucked in the corner—unobtrusive and simple, a place to take quick notes after a session.
“Nice setup.”
He let her step inside first and his hand slipped away, making her feel both relieved and adrift. “Yeah, they don’t cut corners here. Lots of space to use on this floor. And we can use our individual offices for sessions, but I pref
er this one because of the view. It gives clients the option of facing us or going Freudian on the couch and putting their back to us while they talk.”
“Right.” Marin walked over to a long panoramic photograph of a beach. It was a stunning landscape. Pristine sand and churning water, big sky. But instead of appearing serene, it seemed lonely, desolate. Maybe it was the black-and-white tones, but she found herself wishing it had been photographed in color. She turned back to Donovan. “So you’re not going to tell me anything about who we’re seeing?”
“Not enough time. But you’ll catch up easily enough.” He headed over to the desk and grabbed two steno pads. He handed her one along with a pen. “Just relax. The first time is always the hardest. Best to get it out of the way quick and dirty like.”
She snorted and quickly tried to block the noise with her hand.
The corner of his mouth curved. “Yeah, okay, I walked right into that one. That’s what he said, right?”
She feigned an innocent look. “I didn’t say a word.”
“Uh-huh. Maybe that’s what I would’ve said back then if I had known the state of things. But someone was good at keeping secrets.” He sent her a playfully admonishing look. “But this time—no running away, all right? I know where you live, woman. I will hunt you down.”
She laughed, her nerves making her a little giddy, and took the notepad from him. “Got it. No running.”
Not like she had anywhere else to go.
There was a knock at the door, and she turned to look that way. A blond man with football-player shoulders and a leading man face was leaning in the doorway with an easy smile. “Ready for me, doc?”
Marin took a deep breath. Here we go . . .
11
Donovan waved the man in. “Come on in, Lane. I’d like you to meet Dr. Marin Rush. She’s going to be braving the X-wing with me and sitting in on the session today.”
