Chapter 11
Dylan always arrived at her office using the door reserved for occupants only and the elevator that accessed her privacy exit.
This morning, as she stepped off the elevator on the sixth floor, she was searching the bottom of her shoulder bag for her key ring, so she didn’t see Mitch standing just to her left until she ran into him.
Hands raised and patting the air, he said, “Don’t freak out.”
Oh, God, no. Not yet. It was too soon to see him again after last night.
She would have had to face him tomorrow at his scheduled appointment, but by then she’d have had time to decompress. While in her bath, she had resolved to regard him only as a patient and reestablish the balanced, ordered life she led.
That resolution hadn’t yet gained traction. She’d slept restlessly, and morning had brought its own round of upsets. She discovered she’d failed to charge her phone overnight. Each step of her two-mile jog had felt like she was slogging through quicksand. Her hair dryer had blown a fuse.
Now him. She was certain he had banked on catching her unexpectedly and alone in this rarely used hallway. Once again he had caught her unprepared to see him, and that made her furious, which she made no effort to hide.
“When someone tells you not to freak out, it’s usually because they sense that you’re on the verge of it.”
“Are you?”
“Never,” she snapped.
“Honestly? Never? Huh.”
She ignored his feigned bafflement. “Mitch, you must stop just showing up like this. It’s—”
“Against the rules. I know, I know.”
“Then why are you here?”
“I didn’t know how else to reach you.”
“By phone?”
“I tried. I called the emergency number on your business card. Twice. Both times I got this infernal, eternal recording about your charges per quarter hour for unscheduled counseling by telephone.” He quoted, “‘If it’s a life-threatening episode—’”
“Is this a life-threatening episode?”
“Can you be more specific?”
“Is it or not?”
“Well, depends, doesn’t it? It’s life-threatening to take the ramp onto the expressway. To pull your socks on while standing up. To eat sushi at a truck stop that sells live bait.”
She gave him a droll look. “I won’t play your straight man.”
“You should at least give it a shot. You might be good at it.”
When she didn’t return his goading grin, he exhaled heavily. “Okay, no more joking. I really did need to talk to you as soon as possible this morning, and intercepting you was the only way I knew to go about it.”
Reminding herself to think of him only as a patient in need of psychological help, she dialed down her annoyance.
“If you genuinely feel an urgency to talk to me today rather than wait until tomorrow, call the office number.” She checked her wristwatch.
“Ellie is due in ten minutes. I’ll tell her to work you in. For now, you’ll have to excuse me.”
She sidestepped, but he did the same to block her. They kept up that dance until he said, “Bowie put a patrol officer on my tail last night.”
She stopped her efforts to go around him. “Why did he do that?”
“Yesterday, when I learned that you hadn’t told John about the kiss, essentially giving me no choice except to continue our sessions, he and I had words, and I left headquarters in a huff.”
“I’m guessing it was more than a huff.”
“Well, apparently John thought so.”
“That’s why he had you followed?”
He gave a curt nod. “My tail, this young cop named Clarence, reported to him that I’d broken into this building. John jumped to the conclusion that I’d come here to take my anger out on you.”
“You mean physically?”
“That was the implication.” Her genuine shock must’ve shown because he followed up quickly. “That’s right,” he said with bitterness. “Can you believe it? Made me livid, and I told him so.”
He described how he’d exited the building unseen and surprised the officer who’d been dispatched to spy on him. “I took Clarence’s phone and lit into John. I assured him that when I left you, you were sound of body and mind.”
The statement ended with the hint of a question mark, which she pretended not to notice. “I regret that this drove another wedge between you,” she said, meaning it. “Where did you leave it with him?”
“He apologized. Still, it was an insult that I won’t soon forget.”
She stared at the V-shaped depression under his Adam’s apple as she thought that through, then looked into his face again and gave him a small smile.
“I think you care for John Bowie and his opinion of you more than you’re willing to admit.
You’re on the outs. That happens between even the best of friends.
“But I understand why you’re upset. A slight from a good friend hurts more than a slight from someone who doesn’t matter so much.”
He watched her for a moment, then hooked his thumbs into his belt and rested his hands on his hips. “That sounded like shrink talk. Are you going to charge me for this session? If so, I prefer your parlor sofa with all the pillows to standing out here in the hall.”
This was only the third time she’d seen the man, yet she’d become familiar with his shrewd squint and the lines it caused to radiate from the corners of his eyes. He tilted his head to a certain angle whenever he was appraising her, as he was now.
Realizing just how familiar and attractive those characteristics had become to her, realizing how badly she wanted to smile, she pulled her gaze from his and looked at her watch again.
“My first patient is due in fifteen minutes. We’ll begin your next session by addressing Bowie’s hasty judgment and how it affected you. Ellie will be at her desk by now. Call her to reschedule for later today.”
“No need. I only came to explain the situation and give you a heads-up. John will be calling you to ask about my visit here last night.”
“If you made it clear to him that all was well, I doubt he’ll contact me.”
He shook his head. “I guarantee that he will. He’s a thorough son of a bitch. He’ll want your word for it. He’ll want to hear from your own lips that I didn’t lay a hand on you.” He waited a beat, closed the distance between them by an inch, then, very low, asked, “What will you tell him, Dylan?”
They stared at each other long enough for her to know that she would soon be in violation of her own guidelines and boundaries as yet to be drawn. She had to move away from him.
This time, he didn’t block her. She walked to the private exit door before turning and answering his question in the coolest voice she could muster. “I won’t tell Bowie anything except to remind him that what we talk about in our sessions is confidential.”
“Confidentiality. Your number one rule.”
“Yes.”
“Just checking to see if you had changed your mind about that.”
“I’ll never change my mind about that.”
He gave a hitch of his chin. “Right.”
He punched the down button on the elevator, and it opened immediately.
After stepping in, he turned and gave her a look that originated not only from his eyes.
His entire aspect was behind that look. It caused a purling sensation where she definitely should not be feeling one.
He held that look until the door slid closed.
Almost frantically, she went digging into her shoulder bag in search of her key ring, that damn elusive key ring that refused to be found. Then, surrendering to her shakiness, she pressed her forehead against the cool metal surface of the door.
Dylan, what are you doing, what are you thinking? You cannot do this.
The keys, which she hadn’t realized she’d located, were being squeezed so tightly they were digging into her palm.
She fumbled with them until she isolated the right one.
But when she went to insert it into the old-fashioned lock, the doorknob turned in her hand.
She gave a slight push, and the door swung open.
She stared, frowning with puzzlement as she wondered how that could be when she distinctly remembered locking the door behind herself when she had left last night.
Then, with a soft gasp of realization, she looked back toward the elevator. It had already reached the ground floor.