Читать книгу Her Only Chance - Cheryl Anne Porter - Страница 10

JAMIE TRIED to remember the last time she’d had a thirty-minute conversation about sex with a man and hadn’t at least been turned on first. She couldn’t come up with any time before today. Thank God. But now here she was, with her therapist, a slight older man with a gray beard and a notepad, sitting in his private, low-lit office. Talking about sex. For thirty minutes!

“I don’t have a problem with sex,” Jamie assured her therapist for the tenth time. “I like it a lot. Well, at least I did before this conversation. Now I may never want it again.” She grinned, but when the therapist didn’t even crack a smile, she hurriedly added, “Just kidding. Don’t write that down. Okay, so you’re saying I have a problem with one member of the opposite sex, right?”

“I don’t know, Jamie. You’d have to tell me.”

“I did tell you. Sex for me is pronounced Kellan Chance. You’d think the man and I were star-crossed lovers, and I’m compelled to keep reliving the tragedy.”

“Tragedy?” Dr. Hampton raised a graying eyebrow. “Is that how you see your relation—” A knock on the door interrupted him. “I’m sorry. Will you excuse me?” He stood up. “Roberta wouldn’t knock if it weren’t an emergency.”

Jamie waved a dismissive hand at him. “Please, go ahead.” Secretly thrilled with this temporary reprieve, she added a smile. “Take your time.”

Dr. Hampton nodded and crossed the room, quietly opening the door and leaving the room. Jamie watched him, thinking she needed to develop that soothing technique. She couldn’t seem to enter or exit a room without wrenching the door open or banging it closed. If only she could close her aching—and arousing—thoughts of Kellan Chance as easily.

It was true. Where Kellan was concerned, her heart and mind and body simply would not allow her to rest. He was entrenched in her senses. She felt certain she could smell his scent, taste his kiss, feel his touch…even after not seeing him for a year. No. Jamie leaned forward, crossing her arms atop her knees and resting her forehead against them. Do not think about him, Jamie. You’ll only lose.

She raised her head and stared across the soothingly lit and comfortably furnished office where Dr. Hampton plied his psychiatric trade. “I can do this,” she said softly to the man’s diplomas hanging on the wall behind his huge walnut desk. “I can and I will,” she said with more force, already feeling better. “I don’t have anything to worry about.”

Except Kellan Chance.

Slumping, Jamie muttered a mild expletive. The man is going to drive me crazy. She then remembered her conversation earlier with Donna about being crazy. Yeah, crazy about Kellan. Worse than that, she knew she still loved him, as Donna had accused. Not that loving him has done me any good, Jamie fussed. Kellan will never change. She knew it was true. The man, despite all his wonderful qualities, physical and otherwise, was a thrill seeker, a danger junkie. Her exact opposite. He was also, without being aware of it, her worst enemy. Or he would be, if the truth ever got out.

That truth was that Jamie had fallen for Kell—the classic “wrong man”—and hadn’t been able to get over him. In fact, she was so hopeless where he was concerned that her academic curiosity had finally taken over and had plunged her into research, which had fueled her doctoral thesis: Women Who Fall For “The Wrong Man”: Why Do They Do It?

How could she have known that, in psychology circles, her research and the resulting paper would be hailed as groundbreaking? That was another secret she wasn’t able to share with Donna or anyone else—her secret book deal with a major publisher who wanted her to develop her thesis into a nonfiction, self-help guide on relationships. Once she signed the contracts, she’d have a lot of money and even more publicity. But there would be no binding contract until she rewrote her thesis into lay terms, and made it slick and glossy in short chapters chock-full of advice, conclusions, lessons, and, worst of all, answers. Help.

The publicity plan scared Jamie the most. The publisher wanted to spring her on the public, present her as the one woman in today’s world who had all the answers about relationships. Jamie could read the caption now, headlining her photo on some glossy magazine page: What does this woman know about relationships that you don’t?

Not a damn thing. She still couldn’t believe this was happening to her. Who would have guessed that the woman from New York that she’d found herself cornered by at that faculty mixer—all Jamie had known then was the woman was someone important’s sister—was also a high-powered literary agent?

Even now, Jamie could remember how, out of sheer desperation for something to talk about, she’d spouted off about the research she’d done, the interviews, her conclusions, et cetera. And then the woman produced a business card, gave it to Jamie and said Kid, I’m going to make you a star.

Whew. A book like this was all about perception, Liz Clendenen, the agent—her agent—had told her. In Jamie, the publisher believed they had the right author, providing she turned out to be an entertaining writer, too. She was young. Attractive. Articulate. Educated. Yep, she had all the credentials, everything they could hope for. All in one package. Except…and only Jamie knew this…she was a fraud. She, too, had fallen for the wrong man. And she still wasn’t over him. That made her a victim of her own syndrome. Frankenstein’s monsterette. Dr. Jekyll and Ms. Hyde.

I have to quit bringing up Kellan to Dr. Hampton. He could unwittingly blow the whole book thing, along with my license to practice, if he thinks I have serious unresolved issues here. Jamie wondered how this could be happening to her. Just when everything fell into place in her life…it all fell apart. She had this unbelievable chance to succeed beyond her wildest expectations, and she’d lost control over her own destiny. Her feelings toward Kellan Chance could torpedo everything.

It had always been this way for her in her life. Every time she tried to do anything positive, something went wrong. No wonder she’d become a thinker, a watcher, and not a doer.

A moment later, she heard the office door behind her slowly opening. Her heart thumping, she quickly brushed her long hair back from her face and tugged at her short skirt. Just keep your cool here, Jamie. You can do this. She turned and smiled at Dr. Hampton.

His answering smile bled into a quizzical frown as he sat in his chair and opened his notepad. “You look nervous, Jamie.”

“I do? Well, I’m not. Except about getting my license to practice, that is.” No license, no certification meant…no book. Only, Dr. Hampton didn’t know that, and she couldn’t tell him.

He nodded. “Yes. Your license to practice.” But he didn’t elaborate. He just took up where they’d left off. “Before we were interrupted, you mentioned—” he checked his notepad “—Kellan Chance and tragedy. Tell me about that, Jamie.”

“Well, there’s no real tragedy. Not like a car accident, or plane wreck. It’s just that when Kellan and I get together, it always ends up in heartache, almost as if we were predestined for it. We always come to tragedy, it seems.” When the doctor said nothing, Jamie continued, blurting, “Kellan is Gaelic for warrior, you know. And he certainly lives up to his name. He’s a Navy SEAL. Did I tell you that?”

Dr. Hampton nodded. “Yes. But there’s more to him than that, isn’t there?”

“Oh, of course. He’s kind, considerate, intelligent. A real Southern gentleman. A well-rounded man.” The image that conjured up in her mind…Kell’s physical well-roundedness…had Jamie blushing and looking down at her hands in her lap. Why did she always become so wrapped up in Kell physically that she forgot his other attributes?

Dr. Hampton suddenly broke into Jamie’s reflective silence. “Those are all good attributes, Jamie. He sounds very nice.”

“He is.” Her words were a defeated sigh. “He’s more than nice. He was my best friend. We did everything together. I miss him—” Jamie watched Dr. Hampton writing furiously on his notepad. What now? What had she said to set him off on yet another blazing round of note-taking? That she missed him? Jamie sat silently, determined not to utter another word until her therapist/professor stopped scribbling her innermost secrets onto what would become nothing more to him than office notes.

The air conditioner suddenly kicked on, sending cooled air throughout the comfortably furnished office. Jamie was sure the walls were slowly closing in on her. Finally, Dr. Hampton stopped writing and looked up at her. Despite herself, she had to admire his expertise. “This works for you, doesn’t it? The long silences, all that writing? Just awaiting the patient’s thoughts—which they finally and desperately blurt out. It’s a good technique.”

“Is that how you feel, Jamie? Desperate?”

She stared at Dr. Hampton. He acted as if it was his job to jump on everything that came out of her mouth. Then she remembered…that was his job. It would also be her job someday soon—if she got past these sessions. “Yes, I feel desperate. But desperate to graduate and get my license. That’s all.”

Well, now, Jamie, that certainly sounded hostile. Dr. Hampton probably thought so, too, given the assessing stare he was sending her way. Swallowing, Jamie glanced at the wall clock behind him. The obnoxiously slow-moving big hand showed she still had fifteen minutes left in her hour. Great. Jamie smiled hopefully, helplessly, at her therapist and wisely said no more.

Dr. Hampton carefully placed his notepad on the small table next to him. He brushed something off his trousers, crossed his thin legs and met her gaze. Bad news was written all over his face. “You come back to your license almost as much as you do to Mr. Chance. I don’t suppose, though, that I blame you. Only I’m afraid, Jamie, that your license isn’t going to be forthcoming, at least not yet.”

His words were like an arrow to the heart of her future. Jamie put a shaking hand to her temple. “Would you please explain ‘not forthcoming’?”

“I’m afraid it means I’ll be, well, holding up your license.”

Jamie’s heart raced, leaving her weak-kneed. Her license. Her agent had called her just three days ago asking her when she’d have it. Liz had said Jamie needed to mail a copy to Highline Publishing and to her the day she got it. Only then would they draw up contracts that meant a signed deal. Jamie could hear herself assuring Liz she’d have it within a week or so. Or so? Suddenly “or so” appeared to be sometime in the next Ice Age. “Oh, God. Oh, please, Dr. Hampton, you can’t deny me my license. You can’t.”

Dr. Hampton’s gaze roved over her face. “I’m not going to deny you your license, Jamie. Well, not for any longer than I have to. I just think there’s something here that needs fine-tuning, let’s say.”

Fine-tuning? That’s it? Jamie leaned forward and stared at her former mentor, now tormentor. “That sounds hopeful. Considering I’ve studied under you for years, you’d have seen if I had any serious emotional problems by now. We’re just talking about temporary, right?”

“Correct. And I don’t feel you have serious emotional problems, Jamie. However, I am seeing something, in the course of these sessions, that I feel you need to address before going into practice for yourself.”

But I’m not going into practice, she wanted to yell. I’m going to be rich and be on TV. I’ll have books and make public appearances and—

Dr. Hampton continued “—while I don’t think you have a long-term problem, I just don’t see how, at this point, I can recommend you for licensing in marriage and family counseling.”

Still a bit breathless with the enormity of the man’s words, Jamie concentrated on breathing—and cooperating. “Okay. So we can’t do that now. What do I have to do? More classes? Labs? Some more interning?”

Dr. Hampton held out a steadying hand to her. “No, none of that. You’ve been exemplary in your courses. It’s not that at all.”

“Then what? It’s me, isn’t it? You’re just being nice and I am so totally messed up, aren’t I?”

Dr. Hampton chuckled. “No, calm down. You’re going way overboard with this.”

Yes she was, and she couldn’t stop it. “Am I at least going to graduate tomorrow night? I have family here for the ceremony. What am I going to tell them?”

Dr. Hampton gripped Jamie’s hand and looked her in the eye. “Listen to me. You don’t have to tell them anything. You will graduate tomorrow night, and your degree will be conferred upon you. It will be my honor to present it to you, Jamie.”

Grateful tears filled her eyes. Jamie slipped her hand out of his and reached across a small end table to the box of tissues. She plucked one out, wiped her eyes, then tossed it in a waste backet. “Well, thank God—and you—for that much, at least. My mother and sister are here from New Orleans to see me graduate.”

Dr. Hampton smiled. “Excellent. I’m sure you’re enjoying their visit. And I’ll look forward to meeting them.” Then his expression sobered, signaling a change in subject. “About your license, Jamie. Try not to be discouraged. Or too hard on yourself. I think you can work through this just fine. However, your graduate committee and I believe that before we can sign off on your state application you need to work a bit on finding closure.”

Jamie nodded, taking a moment to come to terms with what he was telling her. She also tried to think how she could get through this without Liz finding out. She had no choice but to cooperate. And to admit that this had really shaken her. Was there no area in her life where she could get things right the first time out? “All right. What do I have to do?”

“As I said, seek closure. With Kellan Chance.”

Jamie’s stomach tightened. As Donna had reminded her, she’d walked away from Kell—for the second time in her life—only a year ago. And now, her entire professional life rested on achieving closure with this man, a consummate warrior in her white-collar world? A teensy little fly in her great big jar of ointment? Dread washed over Jamie. Resting an elbow atop her knee, she leaned forward, rubbing at her forehead. “Great. Kellan Chance. The story of my life. I thought you meant undergo more sessions, talk about my feelings for him, something like that.”

“I do. We’ll continue those as well.”

“Dr. Hampton, perhaps I should explain. Kellan and I have quite the history. We go way back. Since before high school. Then, eight years ago, when I was twenty-one, I left him at the altar. Full church, white dress, all the trimmings. He was not amused at being humiliated in front of the whole town.”

“I suppose not. So you’re saying you don’t believe Mr. Chance has feelings for you?”

“Oh, he has a lot of feelings for me. All of them centering around murder.”

Dr. Hampton eyed her skeptically. “Are you certain? Because you said earlier in this session that you’d been involved with him after the, um, failed wedding.”

Guilt had Jamie darting her gaze around the room. “Yes. Two years ago we got together again. We lasted about a year.”

“I see. And how did it end that last time?”

“Badly. I walked away. Again.”

“Ah. Why is that?”

Jamie was getting tired of this being all about her. “Look, you need to understand the Chance family. It isn’t just a name with them. It’s their motto. The whole family takes chances in some way. Kell has two brothers—Brandon and T.J. Brandon is older than Kell. He used to be a Nightstalker pilot. Now that he is out of the military, he’s still taking risks, running his own security company. And T.J., the youngest, is into extreme sports. Very extreme. Even their parents are gamblers—real gamblers. That’s how they earn their living. So anywhere it’s legal, they’re there. When the boys were young and the Chances needed to go ‘earn a living,’ they’d have Aunt Tillie—who deals cards on a riverboat—sit with them.”

“Good heavens.”

“That’s milder than most people put it.” She stopped and looked Dr. Hampton in the eye. “And that’s the crux of the problem. I just don’t think Kell could change, even if he wanted to. And I don’t think he does. Taking risks is in his genes. He gambles with his health, his life, his body. Everything but his heart. He—”

“Jamie, what would you do if he did change?”

Her body’s response to that question startled Jamie. Fear had jetted over her. Fear, not relief. Warily, she eyed her therapist. “What do you mean?”

“If he quit taking risks. If he settled down, got a stable job. Would you marry him?”

“Wow. I can’t imagine Kell like that.” She laughed. “No, I guess he wouldn’t be himself, so I wouldn’t love him as much as I do. So I couldn’t marry him.”

Dr. Hampton just stared at her.

Jamie sobered. “Oh, God, I am so messed up. How could I get this far without knowing myself?”

Dr. Hampton relented, smiling. “I see this all the time at this stage, Jamie. We’re so busy learning and examining everyone but ourselves that we forget we’re human, too. I’m simply saying there’s something here worth exploring. Some unresolved feelings between the two of you. Do you agree?”

Jamie’s shoulders slumped with defeat. “Yes.” What choice did she have?

“Don’t look so glum, Jamie. You’ve made real progress in the past few weeks.”

“I suppose. I’m almost not against marriage anymore.”

Startled, Dr. Hampton sat forward in his chair. “That’s an odd conviction, Jamie, for someone who’s training to be a marriage and family counselor.”

Jamie started backpeddling before she lost more ground. “I’ll be a good counselor, Dr. Hampton. You know that. Just because something isn’t right for me doesn’t make it wrong for other people. I can separate the two.”

“Well, the only way we’ll know that for sure is for you to achieve a satisfactory resolution with Mr. Chance. In fact, I think your success in private practice depends on it.”

This was a disaster. Jamie exhaled slowly. She’d give anything if she could tell him the truth, that she wouldn’t be going into private practice. Then it struck her. It didn’t matter if she went into private practice or not. She’d still need the same skills, the same compassion, when she wrote her book because she’d still have patients, hopefully millions of them. Her readers.

Dr. Hampton was right. Facing Kell again would only make her a better therapist, a better author—a better person. Dammit. She brushed her hair back from her face. “So. Kellan Chance.”

Dr. Hampton nodded, seemingly a bit mollified. “Afraid so. But I don’t think it’s as dire as you believe.”

“Oh, it’s dire. I am the last person on earth Lieutenant-Commander Kellan Chance wants to see.”

“You’ve said as much. But isn’t he stationed here in Tampa at MacDill Air Force Base?” He flipped back through his notes. “Yes. Here it is—Special Operations Command, right?”

“Right,” Jamie grumbled. She knew how close Kellan was to her…geographically.

“Good. Because if you take care of things with Commander Chance promptly—then we might not have to delay your licensing for long.”

“Seriously?” Jamie perked up. “How long?” Maybe she could stall Highline Publishing. Maybe she could tell them her license was being processed. She could plead logjammed paperwork, delays at the post office, things like that.

“Well, how long depends on you. But I’m thinking maybe thirty days.”

Relief coursed through Jamie. Thirty days were so doable.

“I believe that since Mr. Chance lives here, all you need is opportunity.”

Jamie shook her head. “And more courage than I’ve ever had.” She could just see herself knocking on Kell’s door…after having told him, a year ago, that it was over forever between them. She could still see his stony expression that hid the hurt in his dark eyes. Guilt pushed aside her short-lived relief. She couldn’t play with Kell’s heart for her own gain. She had to be sincere in whatever she said or did. Or she’d never respect herself again. “So, all I have to do is get him to talk to me, just work out our issues? I mean, I don’t actually have to commit to anything with him, do I?”

“Oh no, no. We’re not in the business of forcing love. I wouldn’t counsel that. But, Jamie—is this something you can do? Do you feel safe, comfortable, in his presence?”

“Safe?” She thought of Kellan’s hawkish stare, his muscled body…the way his hands, his mouth, felt on her. She sighed. “Safe and comfortable are two things no one feels around Kell. He’s so intense. But in this context, yes, I’ll be fine. Despite his training and his occupation, he’s a very gentle man. Out at the base, the Special Ops guys are called the Quiet Professionals.”

“I see. That’s interesting—and good to hear. Because all I’m asking you to do is examine your own motives and feelings and then talk to him.”

“Talk to him,” she repeated. “This whole thing sounds as if I’m seeking forgiveness.”

Dr. Hampton’s expression softened. “You may be. But you won’t know until you talk to him.”

Just the thought of seeing Kell again had her stomach fluttering…with anticipation or dread, she couldn’t say. Heaving out a sigh, she met her professor’s waiting gaze. “So. I guess I have my marching orders.” She looked at the clock. Mercifully, her hour was up. Jamie stood and retrieved her purse. Dr. Hampton stood, too. “This isn’t going to be easy,” she remarked.

“I know. If it were easy, you wouldn’t have a problem.” With that, Dr. Hampton walked her to the door. “Try not to worry right now, Jamie. Get through graduation and enjoy your family’s visit. After they leave, we’ll talk again and go from there, okay?”

Jamie opened the office door and then turned to shake his hand. “Thank you…I guess.”

Dr. Hampton chuckled. “Jamie, you’re one of the finest doctoral candidates I’ve ever worked with. You’re infinitely qualified academically, and you’ll be fine. Trust me, this Kellan Chance thing is merely a hump you need to get over. One day you’ll look back on this and thank me—only sincerely.”

While pleased by his compliments—her flagging confidence really needed to hear them—Jamie just smiled. But she couldn’t help wondering if, once she walked back into Kellan Chance’s life, he would want to thank Dr. Hampton. Yeah, right. With a low-level air strike, maybe. Or a bouquet of bayonets.