Wound Up (7 page)

“Just an epiphany. You know, the kind that makes your hand convulse.”

“I hate those.” The woman handed Grace a clean form. “Better that it happened here than, say, on the road or something.”

“No doubt.” Grace started on the new form, chewing her bottom lip and belatedly realizing she was massacring her lip gloss. Forcing herself to stop, she met the other woman’s frank stare. “Thanks for not pressing.”

Ms. Johnson smiled. “It’s not my place. Though I’m curious. In spite of the profession’s reputation, I’m human.”

Grace laughed. “You guys get a bad rap?”

“Human Resources is all too often not about the human but rather about the bottom dollar. It makes it hard to do what I want to do most, which is nurture our employees, or resources. But now I’m talking too much.”

Tucking a loose curl behind one ear, Grace offered a small smile. “I have that effect on people.”

“I suppose that means you’re in the right career.”

Grace found herself smiling. “I suppose it does.” Finishing the last of the paperwork, she handed it to Ms. Johnson. “Where do I go now?”

“I’ll take you to Mark’s office. He wanted you to meet the psychologist you’ll be working with.”

“If you’ll just point me in the right direction...” Grace’s stomach did a lazy somersault. “It’s very real all of the sudden.”

“Let me reassure you that you won’t have any trouble sitting in with this particular gentleman.”

“Why is that?”

“I’m HR, Grace. I can’t comment.”

Grace’s stomach took up a full gymnastic floor routine. “Good-looking, is he?”

The other woman’s lips twitched. “You didn’t hear it from me, right?”

“Minions never hear anything, Ms. Johnson,” Grace said softly.

“Then let me just say you’re going to be the envy of every woman in the place when they find out you’re working directly with him.”

Justin.
It had to be Justin.

Grace pulled the office door open and peered out into the hall. Might as well get this over with. “Which office is Mark’s?”

“Three doors down on the right. It’s marked.” Standing, Ms. Johnson held out her hand again. “It’s been nice to meet you, Grace. Don’t hesitate to call or stop by if you have any questions while you’re here.”

“Thank you. I will.”

The hallway was eerily quiet so early in the day. The click of her high heels seemed preternaturally loud as the sound of each step ricocheted off the walls. Certain she was making enough noise to constitute herself a one-woman marching band, she went up on tiptoe to keep her heels from making contact with the floor tiles. She hesitated a moment outside the third office door, letting fear wash through her before summoning a tide of confidence to carry it away. Smoothing the skirt of her business suit and tugging down the jacket to ensure it was straight, she rested her hand on the door handle. “Show ’em what you’ve got, Grace Margaret Cooper.”

With a small smile and a hell of a lot of bravado, Grace stepped through the door.

7

J
USTIN
WAS
ALREADY
in shock when Grace stepped into the room. He’d just been advised he’d begin seeing kids,
patients
, today—on his own. The woman who’d been scheduled to mentor him over his first thirty days had gone on emergency medical leave due to pregnancy complications late last week. That left Justin as the only counselor on staff.

Everything he’d learned over the past eight years vacated his brain. He couldn’t even gather enough common sense to respond to Mark’s basic introduction between him and Grace. He nodded at her.

Her face, initially open and pleasant, shut down.

All he registered was that his fingers had gone numb and he couldn’t feel his feet. Not relevant to the conversation in any way, but that’s where his head was in that moment.

“Justin?” The director’s sharp address pulled him out of the mental fog.

“Sorry. You caught me at a bit of a bad moment. I apologize, Ms. Cooper.”

A single, almost imperceptible tremor ran through her.

“I didn’t mention Grace’s last name, so I’m going to assume you two know each other?” Mark crossed his arms and leaned one hip against his desk, clearly waiting for someone to enlighten him.

Justin’s heart nearly stopped. Giving his boss the truth was the only option, but the words were hard to produce. “Grace and I have a relationship outside of the office.”

“No, sir,” she interjected quickly. “We don’t. We
had
a brief acquaintance. Nothing more.” She glanced over at him. “And that was definitively over before we became coworkers.”

This time Justin’s heart
did
stop. For a second, he couldn’t breathe. Black spots danced across his vision and his lungs gave up their push-pull partnership with air. “It’s a relationship.”

“I’m sorry you misinterpreted it as something other than what it actually was, Dr. Maxwell.” She ignored him, focusing instead on Mark. “It won’t impede our ability to work together, sir. What was and what is are two very separate things.”

Mark considered her a moment before he spoke. “It seems Justin here doesn’t agree.”

Justin mutely shook his head while, internally, he was shouting at her that what they had was more than an acquaintance. She’d experienced more. He had no doubt she had.

But she’d also walked out on him. He’d let her go, an action that would haunt him forever. Unless he made it right. He opened his mouth to speak, but she interjected.

“I’m sure Dr. Maxwell is merely acknowledging that we share a common educational foundation. He’s right, and I hope he agrees that this will allow us to work together well and serve the kids without any distractions.”

“Very nice speech, Grace.” Mark slid into his chair and laced his fingers together behind his head. “Now tell me what’s really going on.”

“I have to have this internship, Mr. Sanders. Without it, I don’t graduate and—” she spared a glance at Justin “—won’t be able to get on with my life. I want to put in my eighty hours, obtain a fair grade and find my niche in the workplace. Dr. Maxwell has nothing to do with that.”

“And what do you anticipate that niche to be?” he asked.

Justin tried to interject, but random hand actions were all he could offer. Neither Grace nor Mark paid him any attention. Sucking in a great lungful of air, he ran his hands through his hair. “Stop. Please, just stop.”

Mark arched a single brow as he dipped his chin in Justin’s direction. “He speaks.”

“I’m understandably a bit overwhelmed. Between realizing I’ll have patients immediately and then finding out I’ll be assigned to conduct Grace’s practicum, it simply took me a moment to process it all.”

“I’ll ask once, Justin, and I expect an honest answer.” Mark stared at him over the top of his wire-rimmed glasses. “Is this going to be a problem?”

“No. It won’t.”
I hope.

“Right answer. Your first patient is due in your office after lunch. Our IT guy is setting you up with an email address. As soon as it’s functional, I’ll send you your predecessor’s notes. They might help. In the meantime, I suggest you two sort out how you’ll handle the observation and case notes to satisfy the practicum. Your office is down the next hall, second door on the right.”

Justin risked a glance at Grace. She was pale but stood straight, her eyes focused somewhere over Mark’s chair. She lifted her chin and swallowed, offering a nod before pivoting to face Justin. The detachment in her gaze was like a dull knife carving out his heart. He wanted her to look at him the way she had that night in the café. He wanted her to smile and laugh and be the woman he’d...begun to fall for.

She was more,
they
were more, than a one-night stand, no matter what she wanted to believe. If he had to lie to get through the moment and get her alone? Fine. He would. But the moment it was just the two of them? He was going to sort this insanity out and force her to acknowledge that he wasn’t alone in this madness.

And he’d do it spectacularly.

“I’m not sure where I’ll be working,” Grace said unsteadily, shifting to face Mark.

“My office,” Justin answered swiftly. “It will help with the case notes if we can discuss them and talk out any problems you have. You’ll also be there if any kids or parents drop in. It’ll be excellent exposure.”
It will also keep you from running again.

“Fine.” She swept an arm toward the door. “After you.”

“You two play nice.” Mark stood. “And shut the door behind you,” he called, picking up the phone. “Hey, Sharon. I just wanted to let you know—”

The heavy door clicked shut.

“Shit.” Justin gripped the back of his neck and pulled until his arm shook. “He called HR to tell her there’s a potential conflict of interest.”

“There isn’t a conflict, Justin.” Grace’s cool tone washed over him like an ice bath.

“There
is
a conflict, Grace, because—” He stopped speaking as they passed the receptionist’s station. Smiling, he nodded at her and kept going.

“Already scoping out your next conquest?” Grace calmly asked.

Taking her arm, he steered her down the hall at a rapid clip. He stepped into his office and slammed the door, letting her go and rounding on her. “There is no ‘conquest,’ Grace.” Chest heaving, he yanked at his tie. He couldn’t breathe. “How the hell are we going to manage this?”

She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the desk edge. “There is no ‘this’ to manage.”

“The hell there isn’t,” he said, voice low and fierce. “You walked out on me yesterday. You left before we could settle things.”

“I figured ruining your life was a sufficiently dramatic scene between terminal lovers.” She arched a brow. “Was I wrong? Would you have preferred more?”

“I’ll admit my choice of words was poor, but—”

“Poor? Your choice of words was
poor
?” She planted her hands on the desk and leaned forward, eyes narrowed. “A poor choice of words is telling your gastroenterologist he has a shitty job. Advising the person you just spent the night sexing up that she’s totally and completely ruined your life? That’s a little beyond a poor choice of words, Justin. In fact, it’s so far beyond the boundaries of poor choice I’d bet it’s well into the land of the undeniably moronic.”

He stared at her, caught between laughing at her examples and throttling her for not listening. Apologizing was hard enough.

“Do you get that?” she continued. “Do you understand what you said to me?” Her breath hitched, and she pressed her lips together so hard they nearly disappeared.

He lost the ability to speak as he realized that he’d hurt her. Deeply. Far more deeply than he had initially realized.

If life were fair, she’d refuse to have anything to do with him. Good thing he never counted on life being fair, because he was
not
letting this go. Particularly not now, not with her convinced she was a memory he could do without. He wasn’t sure what she
was
exactly, but she certainly hadn’t been a hardship.

First things first. If she was worried he’d be unfair in her practicum, he’d sort that out and put her mind at ease. He’d find somewhere she could gain solid, supervised experience with an objective psychologist. That would also free him up to actively pursue her and get her to admit that what was between them was greater than the sum of each of them individually, more important than the politics of higher education. He waved at a spare chair. “Have a seat.”

Sitting, she crossed her long legs, her pencil skirt riding up her thighs and exposing more leg than his mind could manage.

Memories of the slide of that silky skin beneath his hands made his chest ache even as his fingers twitched. The smell of her perfume teased his nose. He had firsthand knowledge as to where, exactly, she dabbed it. His cock twitched.

“What?”

The soft question pulled him back into the moment. “Nothing.” He adjusted the front of his trousers as surreptitiously as he could. No doubt she realized the truth given her slow blink and single shake of the head.

Reaching for the phone, he pulled his small Rolodex from graduate school out of his briefcase. He found the number he wanted and dialed. The phone rang three times before his former academic counselor picked up.

“Stephen Ramsey.”

“Dr. Ramsey, it’s Justin Maxwell.”

“Dr. Maxwell now, isn’t it?”

Justin couldn’t stop the slow smile. “Yeah. I suppose it is.”

“How’s life in the real world treating you?”

“First day at the new job and I’ve got a professional problem.”

* * *

G
RACE
STIFFENED
.
How insulting could this man be?
I’ve gone from ruining his life to being labeled a professional problem?
She started to stand.

Justin put his hand over the receiver. “Sit.”

“Woof.”

“Damn it, Grace. Let me fix this.” He refocused on the call. “Right. I have a former student doing her practicum with me. She and I...” He propped his elbow on the desk and dropped his head in his hand. “It’s not a desirable fit, Dr. Ramsey. What are the chances I could have her reassigned?” Whatever the man’s response, Justin shook his head. “No. She has to have the final eighty-hour practicum to graduate.” A pause. “Yes, sir. She’s already walked with the spring class.”

Grace sat there, adrenaline-fueled anger making her blood nearly boil. He was trying to have her reassigned. No discussion. No negotiation. Just
wham bam thank you, ma’am, find a new place to work so you don’t screw up my life
. Maybe she wouldn’t need the practicum because she was going to kill him. Dead. “No, sir. I’d rather not go into specifics. Let me just say I believe it would be in her best interest for someone else to mentor her.” Justin paused. “No, sir. I’m capable, but—” He paused again, hand gripping the telephone receiver so tightly his knuckles bleached. “I understand. Thank you for your input.”

Grace watched as he set the phone down with precision before slowly swiveling his chair around to face her. “We’re stuck with this, Grace, so we’re simply going to have to find a way to make the most of it. It’s only ten days.”

She glanced at the generic clock hanging on one wall. Two work weeks. Ten business days. Seventy-seven hours and eight minutes to spend with the man who had taken her higher and driven her lower than any man ever had. To watch the man whose mind she respected, whose body she coveted, whose smile she craved, as he helped people. “And if I quit?”

His eyes flared. “Don’t even joke about that.”

“If. I. Quit.”

He sighed, scrubbing his hands over his face and muffling his answer. “You’d have to wait until next semester and apply for a new practicum.”

Not an option. She had to get out of this town. She’d saved every dime from her work-study jobs, every extra dollar from scholarship monies and every penny she’d found on the sidewalk in order to have a tiny nest egg stashed for her move to Baltimore. She’d bought a few key wardrobe pieces for her job and had enough left to secure an efficiency apartment, set up utility deposits and stock her pantry, probably buy a decent bed. That was it. If she had to use it to re-enroll in school? No. It wasn’t an option. He was right; they’d have to make it work.

Shrugging out of her blazer, she settled deeper into her seat. “So, how do you want to do this?”

He narrowed his gaze. “You couldn’t manage to take five minutes to fight with me yesterday, but you’re agreeing to stick this out?”

Her throat tightened, and she fought to swallow. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

“If I ruined your life, you reminded me what was most important.”

“And what’s that?”

“Survival.” The one-word answer was barely a whisper, but it scraped at her throat as if it had been shouted. When he looked at her quizzically, she shrugged one shoulder. If she spoke, her quavering voice and broken words would have given her away. She couldn’t live with herself if she cried in front of him.

“Look, the best thing to do is to have you find another mentor who can give you an unbiased grade.”

“Do you intend to fail me?”

“What? No!” He wove his fingers together, staring at them for several seconds before speaking. “No. I would give you whatever grade you earned.”

“Then I’m staying.” He opened his mouth, likely to protest, but she rushed forward. “What happened between us shouldn’t have happened. I get that. But I can’t afford another semester of school, Justin. I need to get a job, get the hell out of here. I can’t do that without this practicum.”

“It seems wrong to me.”

“If you give a damn about anything but your own narcissistic drive to be viewed as pious and above reproach, you’ll understand that letting me proceed here is what’s best for me. Do you dispute the fact that part of the definition of right and wrong is fairness?”

“No.”

“If that’s true, do you believe it’s fair to punish me, to make me put off my life for as long as six more months because you’re mad?” She fought the urge to rub her clammy palms against her skirt.

“I’m mad you walked out on me. I’m not mad you’re here.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “You didn’t ruin my life.”