Healing Touch: Play Doctor, Book 2 (3 page)

“Plastic bags okay for you, sir?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” He acted before he could think better of it, snatching the candy off the shelf and passing it over the scanner, which beeped brightly as it registered the bar code on the treat. “Go ahead and ring up the rest of this stuff. I’ll be right back.”

Luke dashed out the door.

The zucchini expert, on constant alert, must have sensed him nearing. She flinched at his hasty approach.

He stopped short, closing the gap one step at a time, the bag of chocolate replacing boring zucchini in his outstretched hand.

“For your help.” He willed her to take it.

She bit her lip, hesitated, then shrugged a loop of material off her shoulder, opening one of her bags.

After tucking the candy inside, Luke backpedaled slowly. He didn’t take his warm gaze from hers. “Thanks.”

That dazzling smile made a reappearance a moment before the light changed and she trotted across the street as if her burdens weighed nothing. Three or four times, she whipped her stare over her shoulder as if verifying he didn’t intend to tail her.

He wondered if she shopped at VegVana often as he resumed his place in line, ignoring the dirty look from the guy behind him. He could learn to love this food group if necessary.

“That was really sweet.” The cashier fluttered her lashes at him. All he saw was the memory of soft brown eyes and a riot of long, wavy hair.

“Yes, she was,” he sighed.

“Damn. Two nice people in a row. That’s gotta be a record.” The woman pouted when he didn’t respond to her flirtations. “Have a nice day.”

“You too. And I think I just did.”

He slotted his purchases into the saddlebags of his motorcycle, whistling.

It’d been a long damn time since he’d felt like this. A bag of candy was a small price to pay for hope.

Maybe cooking would become his new favorite pastime after all.

Chapter Three

Brielle Norris hated the trembles zipping along her legs from hips to toes. Pretty soon her knees would knock together beneath the airy bohemian skirt she’d opted for this afternoon. Ridiculous. It was as if she strolled through the Arctic instead of the blazing summer heat she’d endured on the bus ride across town. Three parkas wouldn’t have kept her from shivering.

Just thinking about spilling her guts to a stranger had her doing an about-face, spinning on her heel in the marble foyer of the high-rise building she’d been referred to by the operator of the university’s anonymous health services hotline. She couldn’t believe she’d actually found the guts to call the toll-free number. Or for that matter, that she’d tucked the business card with the info into the pocket of her clean, secondhand black slacks a day earlier. She’d found it in a Plexiglas holder beside the sink in the bathroom of her new office.

Hell, it’d taken her almost seven weeks of working in Elembreth University’s Science Department—and more than a dozen failed attempts—to find the nerve to shut herself in the tiny, no-stall deathtrap at all. But she’d done it. And the literature boasting free mental health support had seemed like a sign.

She couldn’t live impaired forever. At least, she didn’t want to.

Coworkers were starting to wonder. She slipped out to the fast-food joint across the street multiple times a day. They couldn’t know she didn’t have a real addiction to trans fats so much as she had to use their large, bright facilities. Returning with something off the dollar menu justified her trip, and eased her guilt for using the restrooms, without denting her tight budget.

Brielle couldn’t afford to lose her job as a student services coordinator, even if the title was a fancy way to describe something that felt like a glorified gofer.

Brielle was fairly sure she’d only gotten the position because they were desperate. Two women had gone on maternity leave. At the same time, a guy had quit to run away with his boyfriend to some remote South Pacific island, where they intended to live the good life as pool boys at a glamorous resort. She wished she were that bold.

With no experience and no qualifications to recommend her, it seemed like she’d fallen into the right place at the right time. Maybe Fate had decided to give her a break. Brielle worked hard and learned fast, no matter how trivial the tasks they assigned her, but she knew only too well that sometimes her quirks were more than normal people could comprehend or tolerate.

Sometimes putting up with her weirdness was too much to ask.

Like it had been for Brad.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she gripped the handrail on the inside of a tiny wedge of the revolving door. It spun around on the boundary of the building she had intended to flee from. Quitting was not an option. Not if she hoped to change her future. She committed herself to going all the way around instead of taking the easy way out by collapsing on the sidewalk, no closer to ending the horrible ride filled with fear her life had become. She clung to the shiny bar until she escaped…right back inside the lobby of the tower of terror.

Why the hell couldn’t they have a regular, old-fashioned door?

Enough running. Enough sacrifice.

She needed help to stop the cycle of pain she’d allowed to dominate her universe for far too long. Playing the victim had never suited her.

When she popped into the pristine, air-conditioned heaven—or hell—for the second time in less than a minute, the receptionist, who might have worked here since the building opened in 1952, gave her a wan smile. “Back again so soon? How can I help you, dear?”

“I have an appointment with Dr. Malone and Associates.” She tried not to wince when the lady nodded as if to say,
No kidding, you could really use a shrink or twelve.

“No need to be nervous. Luke’s offices are on the top floor. Just wait until you see the view from up there.
He’s
— Er, I mean,
it’s
gorgeous.” She tossed Brielle a conspiratorial wink that made her guilty for thinking such harsh thoughts about the other woman. Maybe she needed to add paranoia to the list of ailments she sought treatment for.

But didn’t it freaking figure? Top floor.

“The elevators are right over there, around the corner.” The receptionist waved a manicured nail, decked out in sensible taupe polish, in the direction most of the foot traffic seemed to flow toward.

“Where are the stairs?” Brielle had her limits. And the tight enclosure of the door had nearly done her in. No way could she handle being stuck in a brass box for the eternity it would take to reach the summit of this ivory tower just to see the honorable, and apparently sexy, Dr. Luke Malone.

It didn’t matter how damn good he was.

“Honey, that’s twenty-six floors up.” The receptionist stopped chuckling when she realized Brielle didn’t join in. “You know, they’re real long flights of steps. These ceilings are high.”

Brielle simply waited, tapping her foot.

“All right, have it your way. I’ll call and let them know you’ll be a few minutes. Go down the hall then turn left after the Ficus tree.”

Brielle nodded. She hurried off before she could change her mind again.

The heavy metal door clanged shut as she began her trek. Somewhere around the fourteenth floor she began to wonder if the elevator would have been so terrible. The thought alone had her breathing double time. She slowed to avoid turning into a sweaty mess by the time she reached the summit. Good thing she had experience sneaking down the fire escape when her father had gotten drunk enough not to notice. The skill had likely saved her life as a teenager. Plus, her apartment complex’s super hadn’t taken the
Out of Order
sign off the hazard they called an elevator since she’d moved in to her modest third-floor flat six months ago.

Probably for years before that.

Grocery shopping had become a strategic test as she picked up a bag or two of supplies on the way home each day to avoid the logistical nightmare posed by a boatload of packages. If she ditched the bus a stop early, she passed right by VegVana and the general grocery store next door to it. From there, the walk and climb weren’t so bad. Plus, she saved the money others might have paid in gym fees.

Without purchases to lug today, the giant blue numbers painted on the cement walls ticked off the floors she passed at a steady pace. Exertion distracted her from the tumult of emotions bouncing around in her core.

Could she really do this?

Brielle huffed out a sigh when the enormous
26
on the door in front of her came into view. She took a few deep breaths on the landing, then exited the stairwell. A stroll to peek at the office wouldn’t hurt anything. No one said she had to go inside.

A squeak escaped her when she nearly barreled into a tall man who occupied a lot of space in the hallway. He rested his shoulder on the wall, arms folded over his broad chest and feet crossed at the ankles. His suit fit like a glove, highlighting his trim waist and the long lines of his torso. A quick twist allowed him to check the shiny silver watch gracing his wrist.

“Under ten minutes. Not too shabby,” he admitted. “Sometimes my friend Kurt and I race. But not after lunch out. Especially not after gyros from the street meat truck that comes on Wednesdays. We’ve learned that lesson the hard way.”

At his rambling, a laugh bubbled up from beneath the layers of worry, doubt and tension stratified endlessly inside her. Maybe she wasn’t the only nervous one in Dr. Malone’s lair. “Yeah, that doesn’t sound like a great idea.”

Grateful, she lifted her gaze, then stumbled back when she recognized the candy man from VegVana. “You! What are you doing here?”

Had he followed her? Panic clawed at her throat for a moment. Until he clarified.

“Ah, sorry. I should have officially introduced myself. I’m Dr. Luke Malone.” He slowly extended one of his big hands. Not in a grab for hers, but in invitation. It stayed steady, allowing her to decide if she should accept it or not.

Everything about him gleamed in the sunlight streaming through the skylights. His almost too-long, blond hair, his dazzling white teeth and cuff links she’d swear were studded with diamonds. The only thing ruining the effect was an out-of-place goatee, drastically darker than the rest of his gilded perfection.

Brielle swallowed hard and stared. Part of her jumped for joy at seeing him again, especially now. Another sliver screamed at her to run. Something about him mesmerized her, and that couldn’t be good. She’d trained herself to keep her wits handy when it came to men.

“You must be Ms. Norris?”

“Brielle Kelly Norris,” she answered on autopilot. She gulped when her palm disappeared inside his. Had she chosen to meet him halfway or had he enchanted her with his golden demeanor?

All smiles and light, he erased some of her uneasiness. Somehow his size didn’t frighten her, though she knew she’d be wise to retreat a few more steps. Out of his grasp. Away from his heat. This was the man she’d have to embarrass herself in front of. Repeatedly. At least for the duration of the five free sessions the university covered. No use getting attached.

Then again, it helped to know he wasn’t flawless. His clueless expression in VegVana went a long way toward helping her feel on footing slightly more even.

“Pretty name. You okay?” He tilted his head as he examined her respiration. “Is it all right if I take your pulse?”

“I think so, Dr. Malone,” she whispered.

“Please, call me Luke.” His light hold lingered, thumb brushing over her wrist. The gentle touch certainly didn’t make her heart hammer any less. “Tell me if it becomes un-okay at any time and I’ll let go. Agreed?”

She nodded.

“Good. Mrs. Allerton, from downstairs, said you looked like you might be a runner.” He shook his head at the receptionist’s term. “I thought it’d be best to meet you out front. Wouldn’t want you tumbling down the stairs if you changed your mind. Twenty-six flights is a lot. A return trip, with fifty-two, is insanity.”

She opened her mouth to deny her urge to flee. But closed it, preferring not to lie.

“It’s okay.” He didn’t release her hand, not that he could have since she didn’t ease up her grip on his. Instead, he turned toward the office she spotted over his shoulder. “Many of our patients are frightened at first. You don’t have anything to worry about here.”

A snort escaped before she could prevent it.

“Well, yeah, maybe a few things. But I’ll let you fill me in on those when you’re comfortable. Let’s go inside and talk. Maybe I could interest you in a glass of iced tea.” He lulled her with his easy manner. “Everything is up to you. You’re the boss. Nothing you can’t handle.”

“Thanks.” She bit the inside of her cheek, hoping she didn’t prove him wrong. Her dry throat begged for the drink he offered.

“No problem.” He drifted closer, still in lock step with her, when she didn’t flinch. “Really, Brielle. You’ll see. You’re safe here. I promise.”

How could he tell exactly how to comfort her? He must have earned his reputation as the best in his field. The hotline worker had assured her she’d gotten lucky. Dr. Malone had only recently started seeing patients again, in addition to his duties as department chair, even though that’d meant he’d sacrificed his Saturdays. His selflessness swayed her, just like his kindness had the day she’d run into him a few weeks ago.