Authors: Kelli Ireland
Justin considered him. “You seem a little young to already have your own parole officer.”
“Old enough,” Gavin bit out.
“Sure.” Justin waited for the silence to stretch enough that the kid glanced up. “So, this was part of your plea deal?”
Twisting the bill of his hat to the front, the teen slouched in his chair. “Something like that, yeah.”
Justin picked up a pen and began to roll it between his fingers. “Talk to me about what you’ve got going on that might land you in front of the judge.”
Gavin sighed. “It ain’t nothin’. Cops just get worked up over stupid stuff.”
“Probably, but the longer you sit here avoiding my questions, the longer we’re going to drag this session out.”
Dark, angry eyes glanced his way before the youth refocused on the floor. “Fine.”
“I’ll put this out there again. Talk to me about what’s going on that landed you on the cops’ radars.”
Gavin lifted his chin, the look on his face unreadable. “I got this gig making some extra cash on the side.”
Grace immediately interjected. “Hold up, hold up. You can front all you want with other people, but in here? You come clean. It’s honesty or nothing.”
Justin’s eye twitched. If the kid chose nothing, the conversation was over.
Gavin stared up at Grace, jaw set. He considered her for a moment then gave a finite nod. “Fine. I got a job as a courier for a guy.”
“I take it you weren’t delivering letters unless they were
H
or
X
,” Grace drawled.
Gavin snorted. “Pretty much.”
“Decent money?”
The kid grinned. “Better than ‘decent.’ I mean, I bought these threads with my own Benjamins.”
“You understand that green came at a cost, though.”
“So?” His shoulders hunched. “I didn’t hurt nobody.”
The conversation went on as Justin watched with a combination of amazement and amusement. He’d seriously underestimated Grace and her ability to handle this kid. Then she said something that made the skin on the back of his neck prickle.
“Are you sure you didn’t cause anyone harm by serving as a courier?”
Gavin’s response was quick. “No. I didn’t put drugs in nobody’s hands.”
Justin interceded. “Sure, but you took the drugs from the main man to his distributor. That
did
put drugs in someone’s hands.”
“Man, I didn’t sell drugs to nobody.”
“Your rap sheet said you were charged with intent to distribute.”
“I was framed.”
“You’ve admitted you were couriering, Gavin. Don’t go south on me now.” Justin slouched in his chair, the picture of a relaxed guy in a common conversation. “It’s important that you realize the choices you make have repercussions. You chose to act as courier. Your choice put the drugs in the hands of someone who sold it to someone else. You follow?”
“You’re talking simple economics, supply and demand.”
Justin had been where this kid was, understood what it meant that he’d learned so much about the economics of drug commerce. Gavin was in deeper than they’d realized.
So damn young.
This kid was a mirror image of who he’d been and where he’d been headed. His heart ached for Gavin, and he fought the instinct to do whatever he had to in order to save the teen from a life that was no life at all.
Psychology 101. You can’t save them all.
“What?” Gavin asked childishly for all he was clearly higher up in Deuce-8’s ranks than Justin had been led to believe.
“Nothing. Just thinking. Tell me something, Gavin. What’s your mom like?”
“You leave my mom out of this,” he yelled, surging to his feet. “You don’t got no right to bring her into this room!”
Justin put his hands up, palms out, in a “backing off” gesture. “It’s cool. I’ll leave it alone.”
“Gavin, stop.” Grace’s calm command cut through the explosive tension. “You might live in a world where violence is accepted, even encouraged, but I won’t allow you to subject me to that. Do you understand?”
The teen resettled himself in his chair. “Sorry, Ms. Grace.”
“Forgiven. Now, tell
me
something. What’s the one thing that you want me to know about you?”
Justin watched Grace manage the kid and realized she’d made the right move in taking over the conversation. It made sense Gavin would talk to Grace and reject Justin, given a choice between the sexes. Clearly, his mother meant something to him. Justin doubted the kid’s father was in the picture. The only male with any authority he respected would be those higher up in Deuce. So Justin would try harder, work harder.
The timer went off and he stood, casting Grace an assessing glance. Eyes bright and cheeks slightly flushed, he saw she was invigorated by how well the session had gone. He was proud of her. Gavin had gravitated to her like a moon caught up in a planet’s gravitational pull. Justin understood the draw. There was something about her that made you want to be closer to her, physically and emotionally. It had started so long ago for him he’d almost forgotten what that first hit of Grace could do to a guy. Gavin might be a kid, but he was on the cusp of adulthood. He was no more immune to Grace than Justin was.
He shoved his hands in his pockets and Gavin tensed. Slowly, he removed them. “Nothing in there but some loose change and lint. Okay?” The teen nodded and Justin let out the breath he’d inadvertently been holding. “Let’s leave it here and pick things up again Wednesday. You’re in three days a week for how many weeks?”
“Four.”
“I’ll note that in your chart. It’ll give us a chance to get to know each other.” He offered the young man a hand, held it out there and waited while it was considered. Slowly, as if Justin posed an undefined threat, Gavin reached out and gave him a quick, firm shake. “Cool. Catch up with you Wednesday, then.”
He was out the door with only a brief glance at Grace.
“Kid’s got a crush on you.” Justin gathered up his notes and turned to find Grace writing like mad. “What’s up?”
She didn’t look away from her notepad as she answered. “Give me five—ten—minutes. I have to get this stuff down.”
He shrugged and started for the door. “I’ll be in my office when you’re done.”
“Justin?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
That stopped him. “For what?”
“Letting me run the session.”
“You were great in there. Besides, it wasn’t so much about me letting you, Grace. The kid cleaved to you. If you have a better chance to reach him, you should lead the session.”
She nodded. “Right. I just...”
“What?”
“I won’t be here for the entire four weeks he’s scheduled. Is it smart to let him get invested in me as a counselor?”
He leaned against the door frame and considered her, his mind working frantically but with absolute clarity. “I’d rather let it play out and see where it’s going to go in the time we have. If we work together, we might be able to stop his behavior from escalating.” Pausing, he considered how much to say, how much to offer her, and settled with “I want him out of that lifestyle, Grace.”
“You want to save the world,” she mused.
“I’m not sure about the world, but a kid... I want Gavin out of Deuce-8.”
“It’s personal, isn’t it.”
Her statement was so matter-of-fact, so nonquestioning and nonjudgmental, that he found himself fighting not to let the truth pour out, to open up to her about his descent into darkness. The words were there, parked on the tip of his tongue, held in check only by pride and fear. He’d overcome his past, but it would always be there. Tattoo cover-up jobs were great, but beneath his ink lay a tattoo identical to the one Gavin sported—the deuce with two dots parallel to the point and a sideways figure eight between them.
No, now wasn’t the time to confess past transgressions to Grace. That time might never come. All the more reason to keep his mouth shut now when emotions were running high.
“Justin?”
His chin snapped up. “Let’s wrap this one up. We’ve got another appointment in thirty minutes. Sixteen-year-old girl with suicidal ideation.”
The glow in Grace’s face faded. “I’ll be ready.”
Without another word, he left the room. She was too much of a temptation in so many ways. And her quick statement that she wouldn’t be here for Gavin’s full four-week counseling assignment... It had stolen his breath, made his mind go blank. He rubbed clammy palms over his thighs. He had to make her see that staying, taking the risk, was worth it.
That
he
was worth it.
11
G
RACE
DREW
THE
tattoos
she’d been able to see with as much detail as she could remember, but her mind was wandering. Why had Justin let her, as a brand-new graduate, take the lead in the therapy room? Sure, he was also a new grad, but he had his doctorate. She only had her master’s. Not bad, but definitely not comparable to a PhD. Big difference in practical theory and clinical exposure. He’d seen patients on campus and had assisted in running trials for the psychology department. Still, this was different. This was his first real job.
Her hand stilled mid-design. This
wasn’t
Justin’s first real job, though. He’d worked as a stripper and as a teaching assistant for the university for years. He’d worked far longer than she’d given him credit for, at least initially. She’d dismissed his work history as inconsequential, and that was incredibly unfair. She had been so busy holding him at arm’s length personally that she had dismissed him professionally. He deserved better than that, deserved credit for his efforts and experience. That knowledge didn’t make it any easier to accept his praise, though.
And what about the personal aspect? Hadn’t she dismissed him just as effectively in her private life? That he might actually care about her on some genuine level terrified her. So, yeah. She might have dismissed him out of hand.
Her mind flashed on the kiss at the bus stop. The kiss had been spectacular, full of the same passion Justin had shown the night they’d been at the hotel. But the significance was far more complex. When they’d first been together, they’d set the rules. One night. No holding back. No apologies and no regrets. She’d adhered to those rules to the letter, as they’d suited her. There was no room in her plans for sentiment, no matter that she might crave more than she’d bargained for.
Liar.
There was no “might” to it.
Flinching, she flipped to a new page and began to doodle, not thinking about what she was doing. Justin’s face emerged. It was a good rendition, illustrating his dark hair, lush mouth and piercing eyes. The planes of his cheeks were a bit hollow in her rendition, so she shaded this way and that before she had the picture right to her mind’s eye.
Beneath his image she wrote and underlined a single word.
Impossible.
Nothing described what was going on between them any better than that. She couldn’t give up the education she’d fought to obtain, and she wouldn’t risk staying in proximity to her mother on a maybe. If she’d learned anything from that woman, it was that relationships couldn’t be counted on to solve a person’s unhappiness. That was up to her to do. She had to seize life by the throat and wrestle it to the ground until opportunity was hers to seize. She’d settle for nothing else, particularly on a maybe from someone who had wounded her emotionally. It would be sheer foolishness.
Ripping the sheet of paper free, she wadded it up and tossed it into the garbage can. No quick pen sketch would ever do the man justice, any more than a single word could describe how she felt about him. She grabbed her stuff and left the therapy room.
Justin was in his office, dark head bent low over some form or another. He glanced up. “Hey. How’d the sketches go?”
“Good. At least I think they’re good.” She handed the pages over, uncertain she’d caught what he wanted.
Justin’s gaze ran over the four pages of drawings she’d done. “Holy crow, Grace. These are amazing. You didn’t mention you were an artist.”
“I’m not,” she said softly. “I just like to draw.”
And paint.
Oh, she loved to paint.
Finger tracing the Deuce-8 symbol, he shook his head. “Seriously. You’re incredible.”
She’d wanted to hear those words from him, but now they were tinged with irony. She’d wanted someone to tell her she was special, but now that someone had, she was going to walk away from him in two weeks.
She regretted for the hundredth time agreeing to dinner at Justin’s house. Inundated with Justin and his family, she knew instinctually exactly what would happen. She’d make dinner, Darcy would praise her profusely because that’s who she was, and Grace would soak up her praise like a desiccated sponge dropped in a sink full of water. Justin would help her cook, directing her with light touches, complimenting her not only with words but with his eyes, his body. She’d feed him. The intimacy of that gesture, for her, would be her undoing. No, she had to cancel. It sucked. Man, it sucked. But it was better for everyone.
“Do you want help with your case notes?” Justin set the pad aside, his eyes locked on her.
“I—I’m sure I can manage,” she stuttered, her determination to cancel dinner slipping away as she watched him.
He smiled. “Let’s get cracking then.”
“Aren’t you done with your notes already?” He should have been.
“I waited on you so we could do them together.” Her brow furrowed and he chuckled. “You’re worried I didn’t do my job.”
“No.”
Yes.
“It’s fine, Grace. I dictated what I needed to and I’ll work from that to fill in any blanks.”
“Oh,” she said stupidly. “I didn’t consider dictation.”
His gaze narrowed and a wicked smile curled the corners of his lips. “It’s quite a useful...tool.”
The sexual innuendo rolled over her like a heat wave. She was suddenly sweating and needed air. “You want me to go to Starbucks and get us drinks?” Spending the extra money was foolish, but if it got her out of the office and away from him? It was totally worth it.
“There’s coffee in the break room. I’d rather you stay right here and work with me. Side by side.”
Damn. She’d hoped she could bribe him. Settling her chair in front of the desk, she couldn’t help but draw in the clean, crisp smell that defined Justin.
He slid in closer so their elbows touched. “Let’s get this party started.”
His low, smooth voice churned up things that were better left dormant in her, cravings for more from him than just the one night they’d had. He was offering more, but how far could things possibly go in the two weeks she was here? And when she was finished? How could she leave a man like this behind? Then again, how could she not? Could she risk everything she’d worked for on the slight chance that this thing between them might go somewhere?
“No,” she said aloud, startling both of them.
“No party?” he asked lightly.
“Sorry. I was answering a personal thought and it slipped out.”
He leaned back in his chair and draped his arm around her. “What thought?”
“I don’t want to discuss it.”
“Was it work related?”
“No,” she answered too quickly, giving him insight into her that she didn’t necessarily want him to have.
“Was it about me?” The quiet question held an undertone of hope.
“Yes.” Her answer, just as quiet, hurt. “But I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Fair enough.” He sat up, reached for his laptop and dragged it over. “Let’s get started.”
“That’s it? ‘Fair enough’?”
“You said you didn’t want to talk about it. I respect that.”
Grace was so confused. She wanted him to press, wanted him to be more determined to know what she was thinking just as much as she wanted him to leave this, and her, alone. Frowning, she reached for her pad of paper. “I need a laptop.”
“I’ll see what I can do about that,” he answered, sliding his laptop in front of her. “Use mine for now.”
“What will you use?”
“My personal computer.” When she hesitated, he pressed. “It’s fine, Grace. I brought it with me.” He retrieved an older machine and set it in front of his workspace. “You can argue with me about it later. Right now, we’ve got to get the notes in before our next client.”
She settled in to work, forcing her mind to replay the session as she tried desperately to ignore the brush of his arm against hers, the heat from his body and the sound of his breathing.
The knowledge she was going to have to edit the hell out of her case notes struck her as funny, and she smiled. No way was she going to manage to get this right with him so close.
It just wasn’t happening.
* * *
Y
ES
! J
USTIN
WANTED
to shout to the heavens. She was thinking about him and it bothered her. That indicated she had thoughts she didn’t want to have. He’d take it because it meant he’d succeeded in getting her to consider him, and likely them, on her own. Yeah, he’d take it.
Her body was so close he wanted to touch her, to trace the soft contours of her face, trail his fingers down her neck and across the modest expanse of décolletage she was displaying. He wanted to tease that slim glimpse of skin with his fingertips, make her nipples pucker under that proper shirt and hear her gasp with surprise. She always did, as though she was shocked at her response to him. He freaking loved that about her.
His stomach lurched at the word.
Love.
He could easily love her. He’d spent years watching her, wanting her, listening to her talk, hearing her defend her hypotheses to fellow students, seeing her kindness with those who didn’t understand a concept, having her come by his office to talk. He’d known one night with her wouldn’t be enough; he’d been half in love with her even before they’d made love. Experiencing her body, loving her physically? It had changed things between them, even if she didn’t realize it yet. She would. He’d make sure of it.
“Justin? Which ICD-9 code would I use to classify ‘save this kid’s life’? Because I’m just not finding one.”
Jolted back to the moment at hand, he glanced at her and grinned. “There’s no superhero code in the medical indices. We’ll have to come up with something creative, because I’ve heard that billing the state for these types of services can get dicey.”
“Fair enough. I’ll leave that part blank for now.”
“We’ll figure it out together.” And they would, because she’d be here tomorrow and the next day. His heart rate doubled, the rush of blood making him light-headed. He pressed a hand to his forehead.
“Did I hurt your brain with the brilliant question?”
“Yes, you hurt my brain.”
“Sorry.” The smile in her voice was evident even if she wasn’t showing one. His office phone rang, startling him. “Excuse me while I answer the Bat Cave line.” He grabbed the phone. “Dr. Maxwell.”
“Hey, Doc. I have this rash I can’t seem to get rid of. It’s on my—”
“Stop right there, sir. I know exactly what you’re suffering from. Only immediate surgical intervention stands a chance of saving your life. I suggest a complete lobotomy, stat. Go to the nearest emergency room and advise them you’re there on the advice of your psychologist.”
His best friend, Eric, laughed. “Very funny, man. How’s your first day going?”
“Awesome, actually. I’ve dealt with an overworked HR department, a director on a mission to run this place efficiently if it kills us all, a college intern I just happened to teach who is also hot as hell and a patient who loved the intern and shunned me.”
Grace shoved his shoulder. “Shut up,” she hissed.
“Well, if she’s hot, I’d shun you, too. Grace Cooper?”
“How could you
possibly
know that?”
“Cass and I went by the diner for a late lunch. Darcy mentioned that we’d just missed you and your lovely
girlfriend
by a few minutes.”
“She’s not... That is, I don’t mean to say... Damn it.”
Eric laughed. “Don’t worry. I totally get it. What are you guys doing for dinner tonight?”
“It’s not like that, man.” Justin pulled at his collar. Why couldn’t he breathe?
“Come out with us. We’re going to this dive bar Cass loves. They make mean nachos.”
“You had me at
nachos
, but it’ll probably just be...” His plan to make her see the potential between them by taking her to the diner hadn’t exactly panned out. Maybe asking her out, introducing her to his friends, showing her he wasn’t the ass she believed him to be, was a good idea. “I’m in recovery mode at the moment.”
“With her?”
Thank God Eric understood. “Yeah.”
“Stick your size twelve and a half in your mouth?”
“To the knee, my friend.”
“Ouch. Been there, done that. Don’t worry, I’ll warn Cass and we’ll be on our best behavior. You, though? You’re on your own. I can only do so much to make you look good.”
Justin laughed. “Understood. I’ll see you there. Wait. Where? I have no idea where we’re going.”
“For such a bright guy, you’re a bit of a dumbass at times.”
“Address, please, before I release my minion on you. She’s smart. So smart, in fact, I would imagine she could have you locked up tight in a padded cell before you figured out the straight jacket wasn’t Cass’s new kink.”
Eric snickered. “Funny guy. We’ll be down at Pandora’s on Post Avenue.”
“Deal. I’ll look the address up online and be there...when?”
“We’re going for dinner, so about sevenish. I would imagine we’ll be there three or four hours.”
“Cool. See you then.”
“Bring her, Justin.”
“Do my best.”
“Later.”
He hung up the phone, his hand lingering on the receiver.
Grace swiveled toward him. “Unless you’ve got a secret stash, I assume I’m the referenced minion?”
“My one and only.”
The words hung in the air until she cleared her throat and twisted back to her computer screen. “I assume everything’s okay?”
“Fine.” His absent tone registered even with him and he forced a small smile. “Just have to figure out how to accomplish a particular goal.”
“Which is?”
“Nothing. Forget it.” He couldn’t admit that winning her over was his mission for the evening. Before any winning could occur, he had to get her to agree to go.
“Okay.” She resumed entering her notes, but her progress was notably slower.
An idea struck. Picking up the phone, he called his other close friend Levi.
“Hello?” he muttered.
“It’s almost three o’clock, Sleeping Beauty.”
“Nice try. You’ll never be Prince Charming.”
That hit a little close to home. “I could be if I tried.”