Chapter One — The Meeting
Him
She hadn’t run the dishwasher. He could tell when he opened it. Carefully, he slid the spoon that she had used with her cereal that morning out of the silverware compartment and brought it to his mouth, licking down the side and across the bottom of the spoon. He closed his eyes, savoring the sensation, knowing that her mouth had been where his was.
He placed the spoon back into its former position and closed the dishwasher door. Moving carefully, he slid the doors open on the closet that contained her washer and dryer. He knew where she hung her wet swimsuits. He watched her hang them there every night. He considered the three that he saw and chose the one she used least, bringing it to his nose and inhaling deeply before folding it and pushing it into the pocket of his jacket.
It wasn’t much. He would rather have had something more personal. Maybe next time he would select something from her lingerie drawer. It was cliché, but then, he was a traditionalist. This time, he disciplined himself and didn’t go into her bedroom. There would be time.
Max
“Max! Come in, come in. Can we get you something to drink?”
Dr. William Kohler stood behind his massive desk, his hand extended, a welcoming smile on his leathery face. Dr. Kohler was career army, a field trauma surgeon, with the Gulf War, Iraq, and Afghanistan behind him. He had probably witnessed more evidence of man’s inhumanity to man than most people wanted to believe existed. But in all the years that Max had known him, Dr. Bill never failed to project a presence that was commanding and steady, yet somehow grandfatherly.
“Dr. Bill, it’s good to see you.” Max grasped the older man’s hand firmly and squeezed as they shook.
“How are you settling in? Maggie was telling me that the house was livable, but only just.” Dr. Kohler’s wife still dabbled in real estate, and she had found Max his house in the historic Seminole Heights area of Tampa.
“Well, she might have taken me a bit too literally when I told her I was good with a fixer,” Max responded wryly.
Dr. Kohler shook his head. “I warned you. She doesn’t actually see the houses she shows. She envisions what she would do to them. Plays hell with people who actually want things like toilets and working electricity.”
Max laughed. “Well, I have a tool belt and a jigsaw. How hard can it be?”
“You need to have a sit-down with Dr. Shaughnessy after this meeting. She’s done a bang-up job on hers. She should be here any minute.” He gestured toward one of the two chairs facing the desk. “Sit.” He sat in the large leather chair behind the desk and continued. “Personally, I will never again subject myself to a remodel. Told Maggie I would divorce her first.”
Max chuckled at that, sat down, then moved his gaze to a large fish that was mounted on the wall behind his desk. This was a new addition since the last time he had been in there.
“Well, I see you did it. I was hoping I might still have a chance to best you.” Max nodded his head and indicated the trophy. “Where did you land him?”
Dr. Kohler turned in his chair then laughed. “Off Redington Beach, about five miles out. Took me about two hours, and I thought I’d be having the undertaker weigh him and me; just put us both in the same coffin to save money and worry for the wife.”
Max smirked at the thought. Dr. Bill might be getting on in numerical age, but the man was not elderly by any stretch of the imagination. When he heard a faint, feminine clearing of the throat, Max’s attention left the fish.
“Well, hell, Rebecca, I have no manners when it comes to discussing fish. Didn’t even hear you come in.” Dr. Kohler stood once again, and Max followed his example.
The doctor smiled with obvious pleasure. “Max, this is Rebecca Shaughnessy. Rebecca, this is Max Lawrence. As you know, he’s taking over Howard’s position in psychiatry.” He turned his attention back to Max. “I know that you didn’t get to meet Rebecca during the interviews, which is why I wanted us to meet today.”
Max turned his full attention to the woman. His first impression was that she was tall. This was swiftly followed by the fact that her significant curves were somewhat obscured by the perfectly starched, dazzling white, and completely unwrinkled lab coat she wore. She was younger than he’d expected by at least ten years. Her hair was pulled back, so he couldn’t get a read on its length. But it was a deep, rich auburn.
He had a permanent hard-on for redheads that couldn’t be denied. But he was slightly surprised by his immediate visceral reaction to this one. He was a grown man, and it certainly wasn’t his habit to mentally ogle women he had just met.
Then came the eyes.
Large and green, framed by thick, dark lashes, they were spectacular. They looked out from behind stylish dark-framed glasses and widened slightly when they met his gaze. Then, like a blackout window shade going down, they lost all expression and became like chips of green rock. Not cold, but not warm, they reminded him of emeralds—rich, rare, and untouchable.
“Dr. Shaughnessy, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard great things about your work.” Max extended his hand, his eyes never leaving hers. He had a brief, curious thought about what her hand was going to feel like.
She hesitated slightly before she placed her hand in his, gave it a firm but brief shake, then pulled her hand back. “Thank you. I’m looking forward to sharing our data with you and your team.” Her voice was cool and even, with not a hint of emotional inflection. She did not keep her eyes on him as she returned to her seat.
Well, all righty, then. So much for the theory of redheads being warm and friendly.
Max returned to his seat and gave Dr. Bill a look that held a silent query. Dr. Bill looked down at the file on his desktop and chuckled briefly under his breath. “Right, then, now that everyone knows each other’s names, let’s get down to business. We’ll talk about the marlin later, Max.”
Rebecca
Rebecca closed her office door and walked to one of the two tufted-back easy chairs that were situated around a low table in the corner of her large office. She carefully laid the files that she carried on the table and set her briefcase against the side of it. In a smooth, perfectly controlled move, she sat down in the closest chair and stared, unseeing, at the wall of bookshelves beside the seating area.
So that was Dr. Max Lawrence. She reached for the file on him that was on the top of the pile on the table. Reading the file again was really unnecessary at this point, however. She knew his resume by heart. Former Army Ranger, specializing in martial arts training and hand-to-hand combat. Left active duty at age twenty-eight, graduated from Georgetown, completed psychiatric residency at Walter Reed by thirty-five, published by thirty-seven with a specialization in PTSD therapy. Dr. Kohler had served with Max Lawrence in Afghanistan and mentored him after his active duty was over. It was clear that Dr. Kohler had a personal fondness for him, and it could not be denied that Dr. Lawrence came with impeccable credentials.
Rebecca knew he was more than qualified. She had been relieved they were able to find someone who was not only a veteran himself but also had his level of specialized training in PTSD treatment.
What she was not prepared for was his easy, familiar manner and his exceptional good looks. She was not prepared for the frisson of awareness that spread out to her from a simple handshake.
She mentally pictured him again. He was tall, at least six or seven inches taller than her own five foot nine, and his thick, dark, unruly hair was just a tad too long. She wondered why he hadn’t kept the neat, military-style haircut that many of the veterans who worked at the hospital seemed to favor. His broad shoulders had barely been contained by the blue button-down shirt he’d worn. And his brown eyes had twinkled slightly when he’d extended his hand for that strong, firm, warm handshake.
Shaking her head, she stood and went around to her desk. So he was a good-looking ex-soldier. She worked in a large VA facility. There were lots of good-looking ex-soldiers around. She had to quit reading those military romance novels. Maybe she could get an update on her electronic bedside boyfriend or possibly consider a date.
Where had that thought originated? Rebecca didn’t date and had no desire to do so. She was perfectly content with her life, and there was no need for the added complication of a man.
Sighing, she sat down. Well, it was Friday, at least. She had the weekend to look forward to before she thought about Monday morning and her first one-on-one sit-down with Dr. Max Lawrence. She wasn’t sure why she was looking at this meeting with a feeling of dread. He was a colleague. It was as simple as that. As long as he knew his stuff and did his job, personalities did not come into play. For her, emotion in the workplace was inappropriate. And that included her own.
****
Rebecca could feel her temper near the boiling point. “No, Dr. Lawrence, we do not have all the clinical notes in one electronic database. Some of these test cases are decades old. You know, before Bill Gates took over the known universe?”
His head came up from the list he was reading, and his voice held a thread of humor. “Really? I thought Disney was the current master of the universe.” He grinned then continued, looking back down at the files in front of him. “Is it possible to get those case files at least scanned?”
With the ease of long practice, she breathed deeply, let her anger go, and modulated her voice. “Of course. Just give the final list to my secretary, and she will handle it for you. Now, if that is all, I need to get back to the lab. Do you have any more questions for me at this point?”
For the last five hours of this interminably long afternoon, Max Lawrence had tried to, and succeeded in, pushing every temper button that Rebecca owned. He questioned everything, from her organizational model to her lab set-up, and she was ready to blow a gasket.
“I’ll do that. You know, it’s after six, and we’ve been at this since lunchtime. I’m starved. Would you like to go grab dinner somewhere?”
Rebecca simply stared at him for a long moment, too taken aback to shield her expression. Why would he suggest dinner, for heaven’s sake?
Her brain uncharacteristically fumbled for an appropriate response. “Dinner?”
He grinned. “Uh, yeah, Dr. Shaughnessy, dinner. You know, eating. That thing humans do so they don’t fall on their faces after five and a half straight hours of looking at bad handwriting?”
She let her eyes hold his for a moment before she replied. “No. No, thank you. I have more work in my office.” She stood, jerkily gathering up her belongings from the conference room table and stuffing them haphazardly into her briefcase.
“You aren’t going to take a break?” His voice was low and husky, and he was looking at her intently. “We really have been going at this for a long time. You could use some food and a breather.”
“I don’t need food or a break, Dr. Lawrence. You may give any scanning requests to my secretary. I will see you back here Wednesday at noon.”
She picked up her briefcase and planner and headed briskly toward the conference room door. Once there, she hesitated. Without turning around, she spoke in a controlled voice, which took more than a small amount of internal effort. “May I suggest that you get any required sustenance prior to our meeting on Wednesday? I wouldn’t want you to fall on your face during the meeting.”
With that, she pushed open the door and returned to her office. Once there, she carefully closed the door and leaned back against it, struggling with controlling her emotions. Her heart was pounding in her ears, and she was literally shaking. She almost felt as though her panic attacks had returned, and she hadn’t had one of those in years.
Then she breathed deeply and called on the techniques she had learned in both practice and in private.
First, identify the feelings.
Well, that was easy. She was pissed, level-ten pissed. How dare this guy walk in and question virtually every aspect of a project that she had been working on for over a year?
Confusion was next. Why on earth did he ask to eat with her? She didn’t think that she had given any indication that she wanted to further their relationship. God, she felt so ignorant when it came to male-female politics.
After getting those emotions pinned down, she reluctantly accepted the foundation emotion. Excitement. She felt more excited than she could ever remember feeling in her life. But she had no clue why or about what.
God, this had disaster written all over it, and she’d only spent one day with him. Rebecca had rarely felt this out of her depth. Or, if she was completely honest, this breathless, heated exhilaration. What in the hell was happening to her?
Him
She was leaving the parking garage. Of course, he knew her car. It was later than she usually left. She worked so hard.
But he would change that. He would change a lot of things. He just needed to make her realize that she could let him take care of her.
He had waited so long. After they had forced him to be away from her, he had been unable to complete the necessary tasks to take care of her. But he was smart. He had learned much, he’d experimented, he’d seen the world, and he had bided his time. Those in Bangkok had served his basic needs, and in their way, had served to help him to mature.
But they were weak, inferior substitutes to her.
Now he had found her. But that was just the beginning. He had much to prepare. She would require his most valiant efforts. But there was no doubt that, in the end, she would see him. See him in all his power and his devotion. To her.
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