Searching for Always

by Jennifer Probst

  He blinked. "Just told you. Me. My mother."

  Her voice softened, deepening to a velvety, soothing pitch, urging him to spill all his secrets. "I think there's someone else. Another person in the house. A foster brother or sister? A friend? You got used to dealing with your father's rage until he went after someone new." She leaned forward, gaze locked on him with a sense of urgency. Within those emerald depths lay a vastness of understanding and gentleness he'd never been on the receiving end of. "Who was it, Stone?"

  He jerked back. He'd gotten bashed in the face with a baseball bat and refused to cry. There was so much inside scarred up and dead he was grateful he never had to revisit. But Arilyn's final question stole his breath and drew blood.

  He was done.

  Stone stood up. "This is bullshit," he stated quietly. "I told you before I'll be straight with you, but don't dick around in my head and think you won't get hurt."

  She never flinched. Just studied him for a long time, their gazes locked in a battle, until she slowly nodded. "I apologize. I went too deep, too fast. Why don't you sit back down and we'll talk about something else."

  Who did she think she was? A yoga teacher turned matchmaker playing at being a therapist? She led a charmed life and had no idea of the harsh realities in the world. She controlled her reality while she viewed others through a set of rosy glasses so she could avoid the true mess. Breathing. Meditating. Helping animals. Even with a broken relationship behind her, she pretended to understand and transcend, citing a higher purpose and acceptance she didn't really feel.

  It was a bunch of crap.

  Maybe it was time she knew what it felt like to have her safe bubble ripped away.

  Stone made his decision and slowly stalked across the room.

  SHE'D SCREWED UP.

  Arilyn watched the bristling, towering male approach her. Why did she push? Usually the first counseling session was easy, a getting-to-know-you phase and an opportunity to build trust. Instead, she'd done the unthinkable and hit on some hard issues way too soon.

  Now she was in trouble.

  Damn him. It was all his fault. All of that rippling male sexuality squeezed into a tiny office space would make any woman crazy. He practically gobbled up all the oxygen, and his wicked smiles and hot inky eyes roving over her figure should be illegal. Who owned biceps that massive? Her fingers curled with the need to sink her nails into them and test the hardness. She bet he'd be able to lift her high and pin her against the wall without strain, without needing a breath. How hot was that?

  He was literally the worst type of man in the world to be attracted to. All that experience training her mind to be stronger than her body faded to nothing when he looked at her as if he planned on ripping off her clothes and ravishing every inch of her body with his tongue and lips and teeth.

  Oh my God, what was she doing?

  Arilyn fought the treacherous, weak need for his touch and struggled for calm. She needed to be in control of the situation, speak firmly, and get the session back on track.

  Before he reached her.

  "There's no need to get any closer or prove your point. I made an error, and I apologize again. Why don't we take a break, get some water, and meet back in a few minutes?"

  His gaze pinned her to the chair. He took a few more steps.

  Her heart exploded in her chest. Arilyn tried to breathe.

  "W-We need to make sure we keep our professional distance and don't blur any of the lines. I'm your counselor and teacher. Emotional highs and lows are expected when we're exploring triggers that cause anger."

  He didn't break a smile or his stride. He stopped in front of her, forcing her head to tilt way, way back to hold her ground. Showing strength was key. Stay cool and calm. Even though his body heat was blistering in waves around her, and he smelled so damn good, like woods and musk and ocean and soap. With his tight, worn jeans, black T-shirt stretched over meaty biceps, and the deadly focus from those carved features, a shiver raced down her spine. Sexy stubble hugged that square jawline, emphasizing the lush softness to his lips, framed like a gift. He was total male predator, domineering cop, and sexual alpha male wrapped up in one package.

  "Let's talk triggers."

  She shivered. "Y-Yes. For instance, it seems we hit one now. Why don't we talk and explore it?"

  He laughed low. "Do you soothe all your angry male clients this way? Talk them down with that musical voice of yours? Pretend to know what they've gone through? Tell them the world is a big, beautiful place full of rainbows and leprechaun gold?" He dropped his voice. "Is that what you tell yourself?"

  She jerked in the chair. Her breath strangled in her throat. He wasn't touching her, yet her skin blistered from his nearness. "I understand more than you think," she said calmly.

  "Bullshit. You know nothing about hard times or pain, other than the normal breakup of a relationship. How do you expect to counsel us on anger when you've denied yourself that human emotion?"

  His words stung and pummeled. She lifted her arms halfway to cover her face from the attack. Then felt herself snap.

  She jumped from the chair and faced him head-on. The look of surprise on his face only urged her forward. "You want to know how I know about pain? Do you think I was raised in a bubble of goodness and light, dragged from Buddha's mountaintop? I earned my peace by working for it! I sweat blood and tears and opened myself up for something better to climb out of such a deep depression I never thought I'd survive. My mother died of cancer. I watched her disintegrate before my eyes, changing from a laughing, robust woman to a shell. She smoked, drank, partied, had bad food. She was the poster child of extremes in the pursuit of fun. Before I barely buried her, my father died right afterward, committing suicide because he couldn't live without my mother. You think I wasn't angry? Sometimes I'd scream at the top of my lungs just to stay sane. My father killed himself because I wasn't enough. Try living with that one."

  "Arilyn--"

  "No, I'm not done. I was a complete nerd and geek and had difficulty making friends. I was left alone with no one except my grandfather. Instead of taking a bucket of pills to live or becoming like my mother and trashing my body, I decided to search for more. I studied yoga, meditation, religion, and learned how to live in the light rather than in the darkness. I learned how to treat my body like the temple it is. I forced myself to open up and confess my fears and my pain to a therapist. I decided to help others, but I work on myself every damn day, even though I sometimes don't want to."

  The silence was shattering. Her righteous anger drained away and left her with pure horror. What she shared almost crippled her, but she dug deep and owned every last shred of truth. Why not? Why hide any more from him or pretend to be something she wasn't? Maybe it was best he knew all her crappy secrets and that most of the time she had no idea what she was doing. That she'd been broken once, too.

  "Feel better now?" she asked. "I believe our session is over. I'll see you tomorrow in class." Wrapping the last shred of her dignity around her, she backed away around the chair and walked to her desk. Lengthening her breath, she reconnected with her center and allowed the rioting emotions to ride through her.

  He turned and stopped at the door. "I'm sorry."

  "You have nothing to be sorry for."

  "Yes, I do." He glanced at her. Those inky eyes pierced into hers and right through to her soul. The energy between them knotted tighter. "I misjudged you. I make mistakes, too, and when I do, I say I'm sorry."

  Her tension eased. Slowly, Arilyn nodded, accepting his gesture. "Apology accepted."

  "Good." He grasped the doorknob and pulled. "I won't make the same mistake again."

  He left. His words echoed in the air, more like a threat mingled with a promise.

  One she definitely didn't want to explore.

  Her cell phone chirped. Arilyn grabbed it, grateful for the distraction, and collapsed in the chair. "Hi, Anthony. What's up?"

  "Two things. Lenny and Mike are ready for
their foster parents."

  A combination of grief and joy rushed through her. She'd gotten attached to those fur balls and the house wouldn't be the same. "That's great."

  Anthony's voice softened. "I know it's hard, A. You gave them a priceless gift. The shelter would be in trouble without you."

  She blinked back the sting of tears and fought through. She loved fostering the animals to go into their forever homes, but the good-byes were brutal. Still, the puppies would be together and happy and that was what mattered. "I'll bring them by tomorrow."

  "Thanks. I also got those pics you sent me. Place looks like a breeding ground for abuse. I'm waiting on a few organizations to get back to me so we may be able to move on this by late next week."

  Arilyn knew she should be happy. Hell, it was great progress, especially with Stone's backup confirmation, but she kept thinking about that empty doghouse. She sensed a presence there, but who knew what type of shape the dog was in? "Any possibility of getting it checked out earlier? I'm worried."

  Anthony sighed. "I know. We all are, but this business requires patience. Move too fast or get sloppy and we don't get any results. Right?"

  "Yeah, right." That depression was slipping back over her. "Thanks for calling, Anthony."

  She hung up and tapped her fingers on the desk. Usually she was the embodiment of patience. Waiting for karma to kick in. Waiting for justice. For happiness. For . . . everything.

  She was tired of being passive in so many areas of her life. Opening her heart and hoping for good things.

  Maybe some action was needed in order to make a difference. She didn't want to hang around anymore like a good girl. She wanted results.

  Tonight.

  When the idea took root and flowered, she refused to doubt herself.

  Arilyn made her decision and got back to work.

  eight

  HOW'S ANGER MANAGEMENT?"

  Stone shot his partner and friend a withering look. Taking a long pull of beer, he chalked up his cue stick to buy some time for his next shot. After stalking the station for the past few nights because he had nothing better to do, Chief Dick was pulling him off suspension in two more days. Sure, he might get stuck with the night shift, but it was better than nothing.

  "Sucks."

  "Is your teacher hot?"

  His fingers jerked around the stick. Yes. Unfortunately, Arilyn Meadows was too hot for his taste, and he couldn't afford to get burned any longer. Their conversation at Kinnections had been . . . disturbing. He'd ached to walk over and kiss her, soothe away the sting of pain in her eyes and replace it with want. Dirty, lewd sex was okay.

  Not tender, emotional crap. Ugh.

  That's when he knew she was big trouble.

  Her words haunted him last night. The way she admitted to her past and all its ugliness. He'd assumed she lived some type of enchanted life in an ashram where everyone sang "Kumbaya." Wrong on all counts. Losing both parents so tragically had to take a toll. Yet she'd fought through and not only survived but flourished. She actually gave a crap about others, too. He knew people who led charmed lives and didn't care about making anyone else's better.

  Yeah. She was big trouble, all right.

  He needed to complete the course, prove to his captain that he had his life together, and return to his normal routine. Normal may be a bit lonely, but it worked. The ups and downs of complicated relationships just wasn't for him. His past marriage had taught him well.

  But damned if he still didn't want to have one night of dirty sex with his teacher.

  "Yeah, she's hot. But a pain in the ass."

  "How so?"

  Stone lined up and took the shot. The six ball sank in the corner pocket. "We met her before. Arilyn Meadows. Remember the domestic abuse case with Genevieve MacKenzie and David Riscetti? She called it in."

  His partner whistled. "Damn. How's that for karma? She so did not like you. Thought you ate too many donuts. Liked me a lot, though."

  Stone glared. "Yeah, what woman doesn't like you, dude? She's everything I'm not."

  His partner grinned, those shiny white teeth mocking his own dull ones from years of smoking and too much coffee. "Like what?"

  "Vegetarian. Buddha worshipper. Believes breathing staves off criminal intent. Probably refuses to kill ants or spiders, cleanses her colon on a monthly basis, and stalks fur warehouses to vandalize for the greater cause."

  Devine nodded his head. The dim lights flickered, highlighting white-blond hair and reminding Stone of a real-life Gabriel. The guy was pure Hollywood and recruited female groupies on a regular basis. He also rarely got embarrassed, backed him up in any situation, and was the best shot Stone had ever seen. When they got a chance to shoot.

  Devine gave him the famous smirk that would make Pitt weep. "Maybe you need to change it up a bit. The women you usually date haven't worked out well. Try someone different."

  Stone snorted. "Yeah, after one night that one would be sniffing after china patterns and picking baby names. No, thanks. I don't need that type of complication."

  "Why not?" He jerked and screwed up the shot. Devine gave a snort of laughter. Bastard.

  "I'm just sayin' there's nothing wrong with hooking up more than one night with a good woman. Just because the last one screwed you doesn't mean they're all like that. Maybe she'll surprise you."

  "I don't like surprises," Stone said.

  His friend shot him a knowing look. "You don't like the bad kind. Like walking in on your wife and finding her screwing another guy. At least this one sounds like she has character."

  Yeah. She did. It was evident in every move she made. Character and good intentions. Still didn't mean he wanted to try a woman like Arilyn Meadows. She'd probably lecture him on health issues, want to engage in deep conversations regarding their relationship, be the queen of lost causes, and drive him crazy.

  Total disaster.

  He watched Devine study the table and crack the stick. Nice shot. "I don't like any type of surprises," Stone finally said. "And maybe this advice shouldn't be coming from a man whose future with women consists of what they want for breakfast. You're a man whore, Devine."

  His friend shot him a grin. "I'm ready to settle down the minute I meet the right woman. It's not about quantity, man. It's about quality."

  "Whatever. Hey, there's Dunn and McCoy." Stone lifted his beer and slapped his coworkers on the shoulder. Tim Make It Work Dunn was the only sergeant in the department, ambitious, and on track for detective. His ginger hair and pale skin got him a lot of ribbing, but he still drank anyone under the table. Jay McCoy had been on the force a long time and had settled down with the wife and three kids. He managed to balance family life with the workload, and was definitely the most chill in the department. He was also the best practical joker. When the worst pranks came out, everyone knew Jay was behind them.

  McCoy bumped his shoulder and grabbed two beers from the bar. "I put this on your tab, dude. That Mentos thing got me in trouble. Spilled the damned soda all over my papers and had to redo them, you asshole. The Dick went nuts."

  Stone laughed and lifted his beer in a salute. "The classics are the best. Took me long enough to rig the whole operation. Needed some revenge for the shit you put in my trunk."

  Tim cocked his hip against the table and rolled his eyes. "A little soda explosion is hardly revenge. You gotta step it up if you want to play in the big leagues, Petty. Now let's play some pool."

  "Fine. Rack 'em up, Devine. I'm getting a refill."

  Stone walked to the bar, chatting a bit with Ray, and spotted Patrick at the far end of the bar. The older man was new but had become a regular. Stone enjoyed his conversation and friendly ribbing. He was a veteran who had kicked ass in Nam, played a mean game of pool, and could swig a Guinness like nobody's business. He lived in the senior citizen home, but he seemed fine to Stone.

  "Hey, Pat, how's it going?"

  The man looked up and grinned. His stately silver hair and bushy eyebrows spoke
of good, solid genes. "Stone! I'm good, man. You playing with your crew? What happened to bustin' criminals in Verily?"

  Stone laughed and nodded to Ray to put the drinks on his tab. "Not too much going on lately. Maybe you should go stir up some trouble at the center and get me some excitement going."

  "Man, do I wish." Patrick rolled his eyes. "I'm trying to fit in there, but for God's sake, it's so lame. No interesting women. All they do is talk about their arthritis or foot problems or gas. Tried to go on that bus trip to see Mamma Mia! It was painful. Abba songs and girly stuff the whole time. It's like they're all halfway to the grave."

  Stone shook his head. "That's tough. Can you live on your own? Have any family members to help you out?"

  "Nah, I had to sell my house because of the diabetes. It was time. Can't drive anymore anyway. My granddaughter already does too much for me. She's a good girl."

  Ray set down the beers. Stone nodded his thanks. "Good to have family who cares."

  "Maybe I can set you two up? She needs a decent man."

  Alarm bells rang. "Sorry, Pat, I seem to do better with the bad girls."

  Patrick laughed and raised his Guinness. "I did once, too. Maybe you just need to try a good girl for a change."

  "Tell you what. Devine over there knows the right way to treat a woman. Why don't you ask him?"

  Patrick nodded. "Seems like a handsome guy. She picks me up here a lot, so we'll see."

  "We're playing a game. You want in?"

  "How much?"

  Stone grinned. "How much you got, old man?"

  "More than you'll ever take from me. Might as well empty your pockets now."

  "You're on." They walked over to the table and Patrick greeted the other men. "You got a ride tonight from your granddaughter?"

  "Nah, don't want to bother her. I'll walk."

  Stone looked outside. It was getting dark earlier with the change of season. "I'll drive you later."

  Patrick agreed, and they spent the next few hours playing pool and darts and trading war stories. By the time Stone dropped Patrick off at the center, he felt more relaxed. It was nice to make a new friend, especially one who seemed to get his rough sense of humor. He fit right in with the cops, being used to the blue-collar talk from his military past and having been a mechanic. Plus, he'd gone nuts over Stone's muscle car, declaring it one of the finest automobiles he'd ever seen, and the man knew his cars.