Читать книгу The Mighty Quinns: Rogan - Kate Hoffmann - Страница 10
ОглавлениеTHE SOUND OF his mobile woke Rogan out of a deep sleep. He moaned as he rolled over and searched for the phone on the bedside table.
Delicate feminine fingers smoothed over his belly and he smiled as her warm naked body curled closer.
“Are you going to answer that?” Kaylee murmured.
He squinted his eyes to read the display. If it wasn’t his mum or one of his siblings, he could let the call go to voice mail. But when he saw the name of his next expedition client, Dr. Claudia Mathison, Rogan changed his mind. “This will just take a second,” he said.
Kaylee sighed. “Make it quick. I have to leave soon.”
He sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, then held the phone up to his ear. “Dr. Mathison,” he said in a sleep-tinged voice.
“Good morning, Mr. Quinn. I hope I’ve caught you at a convenient time?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “I just have a few more things that I’d like to discuss. Details that are important to make this trip go as smoothly as possible.”
Psychologist Claudia Mathison had been calling him at least twice a day over the past few weeks with her little “details,” and frankly she was beginning to drive him mad with all her requests. Yes, he understood that this trip would be a big challenge for her five phobic clients. But these were people who lived in the real world, not some invalids who could barely care for themselves.
When Rogan had booked the expedition, he’d bragged to his brothers, Malcolm and Ryan, how this could provide a whole new market for Max Adrenaline, the family’s adventure-guiding business. Over the past couple of years, they’d been hit hard by a rival Kiwi—their father’s former business partner, in fact—who ran his own outfit off South Island. But Rogan argued that by opening themselves up to new and different clientele, they may just be able to expand on their core business of climbing and trekking expeditions and gain an edge on their competition.
But Rogan also had an ulterior motive for bringing in new business. Though at first, he’d been happy to work with his brothers and carry on the memory of his father, he’d never intended it to be his lifelong profession. Once the business was squarely on its feet, he’d always planned to go his own way. But the business never seemed to operate in the black, and lately he’d begun to wonder if there wasn’t more to life than climbing mountains and crossing glaciers.
He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but whatever it was, he was sure it would make him happy again. He’d grown weary of the constant stress and his current rootless existence. He wanted to see new places, discover new adventures, but he’d been stuck guiding the same itineraries for the past four years.
Adding new routes was always a risk for the company and a huge investment in time and equipment. But if he and his brothers could find an easy source of income, one that didn’t involve gambling their capital, then maybe he could finally walk away from Max Adrenaline and live his own life. Which meant he had to keep Claudia Mathison happy.
“What can I do for you this morning, Dr. Mathison?”
“I’ve been going over the tent pairings and I think we’re going to need two extra tents,” she said. “In fact, it might just be better if they all had their own tents, if that wouldn’t be too much trouble. I’m dealing with very mercurial personalities here, and I want everything to go as smoothly as possible.”
“No, it wouldn’t be too much trouble to double the number of tents from three to six,” he said. “As long as your patients don’t mind carrying their own. Just keep in mind our two-person tents for this type of expedition are eight pounds. So everyone will have to carry that extra weight on their packs.”
“Eight pounds? That’s not much,” she said.
“It is when you’re climbing a steep trail,” he countered. “Which we will be doing on this trip.”
“Perhaps you could send someone ahead with the tents?” she suggested.
“Dr. Mathison, I thought you wanted to challenge your clients. Take them out of their comfort zone. I’ve planned a week of survival training and wilderness camping. If you want Max Adrenaline to do all the work, then we should just make reservations at the nearest spa and settle in with massages and mineral baths.”
A long silence fell between them and Rogan bit his lower lip. He knew better than to sound off like that, especially with a new client. But if this was how she meant to go on, the trip was going to be a rough ride for them both. In addition to her ever-growing list of necessities to calm her phobic patients’ fears, now she was taking away the basic challenge of the trek. This woman seriously needed to loosen up.
Still, they were desperate for her business. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Maybe I should ring you back after I’ve had my coffee.”
“Perhaps that would be best,” she said. “I’ll speak with you later. Ring me at twelve forty-five my time. That would be three forty-five for you. I have a twenty-minute opening in my schedule and we can work out the final details.”
Rogan rubbed his forehead. If it was nine in the morning where he was in Auckland, then it was seven in the morning in Sydney, where she lived. “Do you always get to work this early?” he asked.
“I don’t need much sleep,” she said. “I’ll talk to you later.”
“All right. Catch you later.”
Rogan flopped back down on the bed and threw his arm over his eyes. A few seconds later, Kaylee pressed a kiss to his chest. He looked down to see her smiling at him, her blond hair tumbled around her face. “Good morning,” she said.
“Morning,” he replied. “Sorry about that.”
“No worries,” she replied. “It’s time to get up. I’ve got a lot of packing to do today.”
Rogan frowned. “Packing? Are you going on holiday?”
Kaylee gave him an uneasy smile. “No. Actually, I’m relocating.”
“Really? Getting a new place?”
“More like a...a new life,” she said. She sat up beside him and pulled the bedcovers up around her naked body. “I meant to tell you last night, but then we had a few drinks and things got randy between us. I’m moving down to Christchurch with Denny Fitzgerald. He’s gotten a promotion and he asked if I’d come with him. And I said yes.”
“Wait,” Rogan said, shaking his head. “You and Denny?”
Kaylee shrugged. “Yeah. He’s a nice guy, Rogan. We’ve been getting closer. He’s sweet and he loves me and he wants to make a life with me. And he’s around.”
“When did this happen?”
“It’s been going on for about a year, but nothing official. Until now, that is.”
“Why haven’t I heard about it?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because you’re never home. Listen, you’re a nice bloke, Rogan, but a girl can’t live on a few weeks of incredible sex three or four times a year. As good as it all is, it’s just not enough. I want something...more. I want a husband and a family. Denny can give that to me.”
“I could do more for you,” Rogan said. But even as the words came out of his mouth, he realized they weren’t true. If he really had wanted more with Kaylee, he would have made it happen. He’d been perfectly content with what they’d had—great sex every two or three months when he happened to be home...and then not a moment spent worrying about her in between.
Kaylee reached out and smoothed her hand over his cheek. “That’s just what you think you want,” she murmured. “But I know you. You could never be tied down. It’s just not you.”
“Yeah,” Rogan muttered. “But occasionally I wish it was.”
A wistful smile curled the corners of her mouth. “Denny and I are going to be very happy.”
Rogan reluctantly nodded. “I hope he appreciates what a great girl he’s getting.”
“I think he does.” She crawled over him and began to search the bedroom for her panties. “You’ll find someone else. Women are always attracted to men like you. At least for a while.”
Rogan watched silently as Kaylee slipped into her clothes. He wanted to pull her back into bed and have his way with her just once more. But that would serve only one purpose—to make him feel worse about her leaving. Of all the girls he’d dated, she’d been his favorite. Though he and Kaylee had never defined their relationship, beyond enjoying each other in the bedroom, he’d still looked forward to seeing her again at the end of every trip. She was sweet and sexy and undemanding—always satisfied with what he had to offer. Until now.
She plopped down on the bed and tugged on her shoes, then turned to him. “So, I guess it’s goodbye, then.”
“I guess so,” Rogan murmured.
She bent over him and brushed a quick kiss on his lips. “It’s been fun. And I’ll miss you. Take care and don’t fall off any mountains.”
Rogan reached up and smoothed a strand of flaxen hair out of her eyes. “I’ll miss you, too.”
She laughed, her eyes sparkling with a devilish glint. “No, you won’t. You’ll have a new girl in your bed by the end of the week.”
Kaylee jumped up and walked to the door, turning back just once to blow him a kiss. “Ta ta, Rogan. Have a nice life.”
“Ta ta, Kaylee. Take care.”
He listened to her footsteps as they echoed through the cottage, then shut his eyes as the front door closed. “Bloody hell,” he muttered.
The sound of the front door opening ended his temporary depression and Rogan grinned. Maybe she’d changed her mind already. Denny Fitzgerald was a tosser, and no sane woman would choose him. “Back so soon?” he shouted.
“It’s me.”
A few moments later, Rogan’s older brother, Mal, walked through the bedroom door. “I met Kaylee on the way out. Rotten news, that.”
Rogan cursed softly, then crawled out of bed and grabbed his jeans, tugging them on as he walked to the loo. “When did you find out about her and Denny Fitzgerald?”
“Dana told me a few months ago. I assumed you knew.” Dana, their sister, usually wasn’t great about keeping a secret.
“Just found out this morning,” Rogan said as he began to brush his teeth. “Can’t say I blame her. I can’t offer her much of a life.” He looked out the bathroom door. “What are you doing here?”
Mal held up a large envelope. “I brought you this. It’s the first three chapters of the biography Amy is writing about Dad. I thought you might like to read it. It’s quite good, if I can say so about my own girlfriend’s writing.”
Rogan grabbed a towel and wiped his mouth, then wandered back out to the living room. When he didn’t grab the envelope right away, Mal shrugged and dropped it on the table in front of the sofa.
Rogan wasn’t sure how he felt about everything that was happening in regards to Max Quinn. The book, the expedition to recover his body from Everest and the publicity that was sure to follow. He understood why Mal was so keen on it all, but there was some instinct buried deep inside Rogan that shouted caution.
But then, Rogan knew more about his father than Mal did—than Mal wanted to know. He’d first heard the rumors about their father on a trekking expedition to Annapurna. A few blokes from another team were chatting over dinner and the conversation had turned to women climbers, and one in particular. Annalise Montgomery. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but when he heard his father’s name mentioned, he spun around to face the other climbers. The pair quickly went silent when they recognized him and they’d refused to say more. Rogan wished that had been the end of it.
Rogan sat down on the sofa and regarded the envelope pensively, then reached out to pick it up. “Are you sure you really want to open all this up again, Mal? What if we find out something we don’t want to know? Something that hurts Mum?”
“She thinks the book is a good idea,” Mal said.
“But she’s still wobbling on the expedition. She said as much to me last week,” Rogan countered.
“She’ll come round. We’ve almost worked out the funding. And you can’t tell me you’re not interested in climbing Everest.”
Truthfully, Rogan was interested in the climb. He wouldn’t have clients to worry about and it would be different. Max Adrenaline had never offered an Everest expedition in deference to his mother. Still, he didn’t expect that she was going to approve of all three of her sons climbing the peak that had killed her husband.
“I still think we ought to discuss the book,” Rogan said. “All of us. You, me, Ryan and Dana.”
Mal shrugged. “Getting all four of us together at one time is nearly impossible. And what difference would it make?” He stood up. “Now, I have to find my old bike. Have you seen it? Ryan was using it last winter. Amy wants a bike with a basket so she can run errands around town without the car.”
“Haven’t a clue. Why don’t you just buy her a new bike?”
“I suggested that, but she’s on an austerity kick right now. She says we should start saving our money. So we can start a family.”
“You’re not even married yet,” Rogan said, staring at his brother.
“I know. But we’re talking about making it official. And after that, who can say. We both want kids, so it might happen sooner rather than later.”
“Jaysus, Mal, things are moving a bit fast, don’t you think?”
“No,” Mal said, shaking his head. “Now that we’ve decided we want to be together, we’re moving forward. Just as Dad always said, ‘one foot in front of the other.’ That’s the only way to get anywhere in life.”
“How is that going to affect your schedule?”
“Amy realizes we’ll have to be apart for long periods of time. But she says she understands that’s the way it has to be. We’ll work it out. Although I would like to cut back a bit on leading the long trips. I was hoping to talk to you and Ryan about that.”
Rogan ran his fingers through his tousled hair. So much for his own plans to leave the family business behind. Now that Mal was talking about marriage, that would leave only Ryan to guide the big expeditions and he couldn’t do it alone. The business and the family would surely suffer.
“Sure,” Rogan said. “No problem.”
“Great. It’ll only be for a while. Business is going to pick up and we’ll be able to afford to hire more guides. At some point, I’d like to take just a few trips a year.”
Rogan pushed to his feet. Max Adrenaline had always been Mal’s baby. He was the one who’d convinced Rogan and Ryan to sign on. And now, he was the one anxious to step back. “So you managed to find the one woman in the entire bleedin’ world who was willing to put up with the lifestyle. How did you manage that?”
He brushed past Mal and walked to the kitchen, his frustration slowly simmering. Why were things always so much easier for Mal? It always seemed as though he had complete control over everything—his life, his emotions, his women.
“Don’t take your pissy attitude out on me,” Mal said as he followed him through the back. “It’s not my fault Kaylee decided to run off with Fitzgerald.”
Rogan drew a deep breath before he began to make a pot of coffee. “It’s not her. I just had a bad start to my day.”
In truth, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a good start to his day. Nothing seemed to move him anymore, not even the view from the top of a mountain or the smell of a deep, damp rain forest. There was something missing, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.
Had he been free to live his life as he pleased, he’d probably escape to some monastery in Tibet and try to suss it all out. But he had responsibilities he couldn’t escape, responsibilities that Mal reminded him of nearly every day.
“Well, chin up,” Mal said, repeating another familiar family phrase.
That was how the Quinns had always dealt with problems—chin up, one foot in front of the other, stiff upper lip.
“Right-o,” Rogan muttered.
“Besides, your new client can’t be as bad as you’re making out,” Mal said.
“She rang this morning with yet another list of things she wants to discuss. Is there a nit she hasn’t picked yet? I’m thinking I ought to pass her off to you. You could handle her nagging better than me.”
“She’s your client,” Mal said. “And what’s that supposed to mean? I can handle the nagging?”
Rogan chuckled. “You’re the one with a permanent woman in your life.”
“Yeah. But Amy doesn’t nag me.”
“Never?”
Mal shook his head. “No. In fact, we get on quite well. I love being with her. There isn’t anyone I’d rather spend my time with.”
“Why?” Rogan asked. “What is it about her? Why is she so special?”
Mal sat silently for a long moment as he tried to put his thoughts into words. “She makes me laugh. And I make her laugh. I reckon if we have that then there’s not much that’s going to tear us apart.”
Rogan leaned back into the sofa and closed his eyes. Maybe that was what he was missing—someone who could make him laugh. Someone who would always be there to brighten up his days and nights.
“It’s a weeklong trip right here on the North Island,” Mal murmured. “You’ve taught survival skills how many times? It’s good money. Just get it done. You’ll be home and hosed before you know it.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Rogan admitted. “How are antibacterial wipes required for survival? And she seems to be unusually obsessed with the amount of toilet tissue I’ll be bringing along. You can see why I have my concerns. I get the feeling I’m going to be babysitting a lot of needy children rather than five adults.”
“Keep her happy,” Mal said. “This is a whole new market for us. Besides, she paid up front and we’ve spent the money already.”
“That’s probably why she paid in advance. Just so I couldn’t cancel.” He sighed. “I’ll get through it. Maybe not with my sanity intact, but I’ll make it work.”
“Good,” Mal said. “Now put a shirt on and I’ll take you to brekkie. And then we’ll go over Dr. Mathison’s lists and make sure everything is confirmed.”
“Do you think I ought to go after her?” Rogan asked.
“Dr. Mathison?”
“No. Kaylee. Maybe she’s the one who can make me laugh and I just haven’t sussed that out yet. I’d hate for her to marry that tosser before I was sure of how I really felt about her.”
“Believe me,” Mal said, “if you loved her, you’d know it. It would hit you like a brick to the head and a kick to the gut. Trust me on this.”
Rogan glanced over at his brother. He really had no choice but to trust him. Mal was the only one of his siblings who’d owned up to experiencing that emotion. Though Rogan would understand if Kaylee wasn’t the one for him, he couldn’t imagine there was anyone better out there. Not that he ever wanted to fall in love like Mal.
For now, he’d focus on his next trip, and making sure Dr. Claudia Mathison was pleased with the experience. He could worry about the rest of his life later.
* * *
CLAUDIA WATCHED AS the baggage carousel began to turn. She bit back a yawn as she observed her five patients, all in various states of distress. They’d finally managed to get on a plane from Sydney to Auckland after three aborted attempts to board. Then the three-hour flight had been a stress-filled nightmare, as every one of the five had had some complaint.
Emma Wilson, her germophobe, had spent the flight washing every surface around her with antibacterial wipes—while wearing a surgical mask. The claustrophobic Millie Zastrow had paced the aisle between her seat and the bathroom like a caged animal. Eddie Findlay, who was agoraphobic, spent the flight muttering to himself from beneath a blanket and scaring away the passengers sitting around him. Leticia Macullum had self-medicated with wine to the point that she fell asleep shortly after takeoff and hadn’t even been bothered by the height, usually a crippling fear for her. And Marshall Block had spent his time carefully surveying the floor for any errant pests that might have taken up residence on the plane, as he was an insectophobe.
There were moments, many more of late, that Claudia had to wonder whether she’d picked the right profession. She’d worked with this group for two years and not one of the five had conquered their fear. In fact, they’d just added more fears to the list. Surely she should have helped at least one of her patients by now.
Last year, she’d taken on a part-time teaching job at a small university in Sydney and was considering a career change. Maybe she’d be better at academia than she was at clinical work. And most of her patients would be fine with other doctors. Maybe they’d even be better off.
She glanced over at the group and felt a surge of guilt. They all seemed to enjoy coming to group therapy, and though they often argued among themselves, they’d grown to be a family of sorts—a dysfunctional family, but a family.
Some days, they seemed so close to resolving their fears, and other days, they became overwhelmed by them. She’d hoped this trip would push them out of their comfort zones. None in the group had ever traveled, chained to their day-to-day routines by their fears. They all preferred a controlled environment with their usual coping mechanisms firmly in place.
So she’d decided that maybe by throwing them into a new situation they’d learn how to exist in the real world—without her help. So far, she’d been wrong.
“All of you stay right here,” she said. “I’m just going to run to the ladies’.”
“Take these,” Emma Wilson said, holding out a packet of wipes. “You don’t know what kind of plague is growing on all those fixtures. Ebola, typhus, meningitis. I could make you a list.”
“I’m sure that’s not necessary,” Claudia said. “And I think I’ll risk it without the wipes.”
She spun on her heel and hurried down the concourse, tears pushing at the corners of her eyes. This was turning into an unmitigated disaster. Everything she’d worked so hard to achieve was now in jeopardy, and all because of this one stupid idea. It had sounded so good on paper, and she’d imagined how she’d put her successful story into a journal article or even a book. She’d even devised a name for it—adventure-based therapy.
Claudia wandered over to an empty row of chairs and sat down. The tears began to tumble down her cheeks and she allowed herself the release, hoping a good cry would restore her emotional balance.
Covering her face with her hands, she let the frustration out along with her tears, scolding herself for her hubris. If she was going to teach, she’d need to publish. But she’d been so anxious to find a new direction for her professional life that she’d risked the well-being of her clients and her reputation. If they could barely make it through a three-hour flight, how would they finish the rest of the week?
“Are you all right?”
Claudia looked up to find a man standing in front of her, his handsome face etched with concern. “Of course I am. Why would you assume I wasn’t?”
“You’re sitting alone in a nearly deserted airport at midnight and you’re crying. It was just a wild guess.”
Her cheeks warmed and she wondered if he was trying to pick her up. Nothing about her demeanor would lead him to think that she was open to that. Maybe he had some kind of white-knight complex that compelled him to help people in need. He smiled and a shiver raced down her spine. Or maybe he was just a nice guy showing a bit of concern for a stranger.
“I’m just taking a moment to vent,” she explained. “This whole day has been one disaster after another.” She drew a ragged breath. “I just had to release some of the stress.” Claudia held her arms out and shook her hands, closing her eyes as she worked the tension out of her muscles. When she opened her eyes again, she found him staring at her.
“Stress can kill you,” he said. “Can I get you anything? A cup of tea? Something to eat?”
Oh, gosh, he really was sweet. Either that, or he was some sleazy lothario, cruising airports at midnight, looking for vulnerable women. No, that couldn’t be it. He was far too handsome to need to resort to such brazen tactics.
“I’m really quite fine,” she said. “A few more moments and then I’ll get back to my group.”
“Your group?” He chuckled softly. “You wouldn’t be Dr. Mathison, would you?”
“I would,” she said. “How did you—” Claudia paused. “And you’re Rogan Quinn?” She forced a smile. “Of course you are.” Fresh tears pushed at the corners of her eyes. “This is just fabulous. I’m supposed to be in control and here you find me blubbering like an idiot.”
Rogan shook his head. “You don’t look like an idiot. And sometimes we can all use a good blubber,” he teased. “To be honest, you’ve seemed wound a bit tight when we’ve spoken on the phone.”
“What?”
“This trip is supposed to be fun. I see I have my work cut out for me.”
“I’m not the one who needs help,” she said, sending him a defiant glare.
“Oh, but I’m sure I can do you some good, as well,” Rogan replied. “Loosen up. You’re on holiday.”
“I am quite loose, thank you very much.” Claudia wiped the last of her tears from her cheeks. “And I’m not on holiday. This is work for me. No different from my therapy sessions in the office.”
“Work or not, I’ve made reservations at a nearby hotel,” he said. “I figured a decent night’s rest would be just what the doctor ordered.” He held out his hand. “Come on, then. Pull yourself together and we’ll move on.”
She placed her hand in his. It would have been rude to ignore the kind gesture. And he really was trying to help. But Claudia wasn’t prepared for her reaction to his touch. Her heart skipped a beat and for a moment, she forgot to breathe.
It had been such a long time since she’d been with a man, so long in fact that she’d forgotten what desire felt like. But that wasn’t what she was feeling here, was it? Yes, he was handsome and sexy and had a smile that could melt anyone’s reserve. But they’d just met.
She got to her feet and managed to find the wherewithal to speak. “Thank you.” She gently pulled her hand from his, but as they walked down the concourse toward the baggage claim, he smoothed his palm across the small of her back.
They weren’t in a crowd. There was no need to touch her, yet he seemed quite comfortable doing so. Stop! This was crazy, trying to analyze his every behavior and her accompanying reaction. He was simply being polite. But, oh, it felt so delicious to experience this excitement again.
“So, you had a pleasant flight?” he asked.
Claudia laughed out loud. “You’re kidding me, right?”
“I was just making conversation.”
“Mr. Quinn, I—”
“You can call me Rogan.”
No way. Referring to him in such a familiar way would make it even more difficult to keep her thoughts professional. Rogan. It was an unusual name...for an unusual man.
There was something about him that was magnetic. A charisma, a charm that was completely irresistible. When he smiled, she felt as if she were the only woman in the world.
She’d known men like him. They’d always been the ex-boyfriends or ex-husbands of her clients. Men who could make a woman fall in love so hard that she lost all ability to make rational decisions. Rogan Quinn was a dangerous sort.
“Perhaps you should go on ahead and arrange transportation to the hotel,” she suggested, hoping for a moment alone.
“I have our van waiting in the car park. Everything is taken care of.”
Claudia felt all of her tension slowly dissipate. She fought the urge to throw her arms around his neck and kiss him. Though she wasn’t usually prone to displays of public affection, this man was competent and organized and quite pleasant. He might be a flirt, but he’d just rescued her from disaster. He deserved some type of compensation.
“This will definitely be reflected in your tip,” she murmured.
As soon as she said it, Claudia regretted the backhanded compliment. It made him sound so mercenary, when he’d only been trying to please her with his professionalism.
“It’s all part of the job,” Rogan replied.
She gave him a quick glance, trying to read his expression. He didn’t appear to be insulted. Claudia prided herself on her ability to anticipate problems and deal with them before they turned into disasters. To him, she must look like an incompetent boob. “I hope this delay won’t cause too many problems with the itinerary.”
“I think, from now on, we need to keep the itinerary as flexible as possible.”
“But everything is planned. I want to make efficient use of our—”
He reached out and pressed a finger to her lips. “Loose. Easy. Go with the flow. I’ve got it all covered. Trust me.”
Claudia nodded silently. She wasn’t known for her flexibility. Every last minute of her day, her week, her life, was planned. She didn’t do anything unless it appeared in her date book. But she wasn’t beyond experiencing something new, moving out of her own comfort zone. Maybe this trip could be a learning experience for her as well as her clients.
They walked together to the baggage claim carousel and found her patients huddled in a group, deep in discussion. When they saw Claudia, they quickly pulled apart, shooting her nervous looks. Emma stepped forward, squaring her shoulders as she prepared to speak. “We’re tired and we’re hungry,” she said. She glanced around at her compatriots and then all nodded their agreement. “We want to go to a hotel and we want separate rooms.”
“And room service,” Eddie Findlay, Claudia’s agoraphobe, whispered. “I’m not eating in a public restaurant.”
“I’ll need a ground-floor room,” Leticia Macullum added. “If there’s a fire, I won’t be jumping from any windows.
“No lifts me for me,” Millie Zastrow added. “And I have to have a large room. With big windows. That open.”
“But, Millie, I thought we’d conquered your fear of lifts,” Claudia said. “Remember our coping mechanism? The counting game?”
“No lifts,” Millie insisted, crossing her arms in front of her.
“I’m sure we can accommodate all your requests,” Rogan said in a genial tone. “Let’s gather up your luggage. I’ll just go fetch the van and we’ll be off.”
Emma smiled in triumph. “Good. We’re all very exhausted from the trip.”
“Do you know how long it’s been since the establishment was fumigated? I—I have a problem with insects.”
Rogan turned to Marshall Block. “I’m not sure. But I’ll ask when we arrive.”
Claudia stood back and watched as Rogan got them all moving toward the exit. She knew he was an experienced guide. That was why she’d requested him. But she hadn’t expected him to be so patient and understanding. He seemed to sense the mood of the group and adjust his tone accordingly. Surprisingly, the entire group fell into line behind him.
Rogan only had to address a few of their concerns about the service record of his van before he managed to get everyone safely inside. As they drove to the hotel, Claudia studied his profile in the darkened interior. His rugged good looks would cause any red-blooded woman’s gaze to linger a bit longer.
His dark hair was shaggy and thick and she decided the only grooming he gave it was a quick comb-through with his fingers. His deep tan set off perfect teeth and eyes that were as blue as the sky on a clear day. Though she preferred a smooth-shaven man, the stubble did give him a rugged appearance. But it was his smile, so warm and engaging, that she found so attractive.
She let her gaze drift lower and made a careful catalog of his other physical attributes. He was tall and lanky, but she suspected that beneath the casual clothes, he had a beautiful body. Not soft and pale, like most of the academics she’d dated, but hard and muscled, like a man who spent most of his time in harsh conditions.
No one spoke on the way to the hotel, and the ride was mercifully short. When they got out of the van, Rogan helped carry the baggage inside, then gathered them all at the reception desk. “Let’s meet here at noon tomorrow. I’ll leave you all to get brekkie on your own. Just put it on your room tab and it will be covered for you.”
“What are we going to do tomorrow?” Leticia asked in a timid voice.
“I haven’t quite worked that out yet,” he said. “But it won’t involve any airplane flights.”
That seemed to bring a chorus of relieved sighs. Claudia cleared her throat and said to her patients, “Why don’t we plan on getting together for a group session tomorrow morning at eleven? We should discuss what happened today and—”
“I think it would be better if we left today in the past and started fresh in the morning,” Rogan interrupted. “No use dwelling on it. It’s important to keep moving forward.”
Claudia bit back a gasp. It was terribly presumptuous of him to countermand her authority at such an early point in the trip. But it would be unprofessional to make an issue out of it in front of the others. “Perhaps that would be best,” she said.
She didn’t want to start an argument now; she’d take Rogan aside later and quietly inform him of his error.
Her mind flashed an image of the two of them alone, but it wasn’t a congenial meeting of minds that she imagined. To her shock, the scene was intimate, the lights dimmed, the mood relaxed. Claudia shook herself out of the brief fantasy and looked over at Rogan, only to find him staring at her.
“Yes, we’ll meet in the lobby at noon,” she said. Her clients all nodded in agreement, then lined up to check in to their rooms. “I’ll leave you to take care of the details,” she said to Rogan.
She grabbed her bag and headed toward the comfortable sofas, but at the last moment she made a detour toward the hotel bar. Though she’d never been much of a drinker, right now she needed something to bolster her spirits. This trip would be the biggest challenge of her career. But it could also be her greatest success. It could open doors and position her as a new voice with a fresh approach. She could imagine any number of universities interested in her groundbreaking work—maybe even a few outside Australia.
And yet, here she was, ready to give it all up and get on a plane back to Sydney, with or without her group. If she really wanted this to work, she’d have to gather her resolve and fight through the frustrations. Besides, she couldn’t help but be a bit curious as to what Rogan Quinn might have planned for them all. Even if she didn’t have much confidence in her plan right now, he seemed to think it would work.
“Trust the expert,” she murmured to herself. After all, she’d put her career in his hands.
* * *
HE FOUND HER sitting in the bar at the hotel, nursing a martini with two olives. Rogan hadn’t paid much attention when Claudia had wandered off. But once he’d gotten all her patients checked in to their rooms, carried Leticia’s luggage up the stairs to her second-floor room and devised an escape route for her in case of fire, he’d realized that Claudia hadn’t yet checked in.
Rogan sat down on the stool beside her. “Whiskey,” he murmured to the bartender. “Neat.”
Claudia glanced over at him, her eyes bleary. It looked as if she’d been “venting” again, but her cheeks weren’t damp and her nose wasn’t red. Even now, completely exhausted and most likely drunk, she was beautiful—and probably completely unaware of it.
Her dark hair, constrained earlier by a neat clip, now fell in waves around her face, and her lipstick was smudged. She wore a tailored blazer and a white blouse that now seemed a bit wilted.
“Shouldn’t you be in bed?” she asked, reaching for her nearly empty glass.
“I was going to ask you the same thing. You look like hell.”
She held up her glass in a mock toast, then drained the tiny bit of vodka in the bottom. Then she popped the two olives into her mouth and considered his statement. “Great. Then I feel as good as I look.” Frowning, she held out her glass to the bartender and he dutifully prepared another and slid it across the bar.
“How many of those have you had?”
“How many of these have I had?” Claudia asked the bartender.
The young man held up three fingers.
“Including that one?” Rogan asked.
He nodded.
“I think she’s had enough,” Rogan ordered.
“You’re the man in charge,” she murmured, pointing at him.
“They’re all safely into their rooms,” he continued. “I don’t think you’ll have any problems until morning.”
“Thank you,” she said, taking a sip of her new drink. “It’s been a very enlightening day. I’ve come face-to-face with my limitations as a therapist and I feel a bit bruised right now.” She giggled. “And just a little drunk.”
“I know I told you to loosen up, but I didn’t mean for you to get pissed at the first available opportunity.”
“Just following orders.” She turned to smile at him. “I am most definitely loose.”
This was unexpected, Rogan mused. When he’d challenged her to relax, he hadn’t expected her to go so far. But now that she had, he’d make sure she got back to her room with her dignity intact.
“So, tell me about yourself, Mr. Quinn.” She leaned closer and bumped against his shoulder. “What makes you tick?”
“Are you trying to analyze me?” Rogan asked.
“Oh, I don’t have the energy for that tonight. I’m just making polite conversation.”
“What would you like to know?”
“Are you married?”
“No,” he said. She got right to the point. But he wasn’t sure what her point was. Did his relationship status make a difference to her?
“Explain,” she ordered.
He gave her a dubious look. “Explain? I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Exactly how does a man as attractive as you are, with a voice like yours...” She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “And who smells as great as you do. How is it that you aren’t happily married with three children and a dog?”
“I guess I haven’t found the right woman yet.”
“You are interested in women, aren’t you? You can tell me.” She pressed a finger to her lips. “I’m a professional.”
“Yes,” he said, nodding. “I’m interested in women.”
Claudia sighed, then took another sip of her drink. “Oh, good. It would be such a shame if you weren’t. She drew a deep breath. “So, do you have a girlfriend?”
“Do you always interrogate strangers like this?” he asked. “Or is this the martini talking?”
“I always do this,” she said. “I have a natural curiosity. Most people don’t mind. In fact, most people enjoy talking about their problems, and when they find out I’m a psychologist, they’re happy to get a free session.”
“Well, I don’t require your services, Dr. Mathison.”
“Everyone has at least a few problems worth talking about,” she countered.
“Like your need to control every single moment of this trip? That’s going to be a problem. Maybe we should talk about that.”
She considered his statement for a long moment, then nodded. “Point taken. I have my own little demons. But I’m curious about yours.”
“I don’t have any.” Rogan recognized the lie. But the last person he wanted peering into the dark corners of his mind was Dr. Claudia Mathison.
“I’ll make you a deal,” she said.
“What’s that?”
“If you get me to loosen up, then I get to peek inside your head.”
“You want to x-ray my brain?”
“No,” she said with a giggle. “I want to shrink your head. I want to figure you out. If you manage to loosen me up, then I get to analyze you. You have to answer all my questions.”
“Believe me, you won’t find anything of interest inside my head. I’m a pretty normal bloke.”
“There’s no such thing. Besides, look at yourself. You’re gorgeous—and you’re not married. Not even attached.”
“How do you know I’m not attached?”
“Because if you were, you wouldn’t be staring at me like you want to kiss me,” she said.
Rogan gasped. “I do not—”
“Oh, come now. You’re most definitely flirting with me. You touch me every opportunity you get.” She nodded at his hand resting on her leg, his fingers in hers. “See there? So tell me all your secrets.”
Rogan downed his whiskey, then motioned for another. He’d never met a woman like Claudia, a woman who said exactly what was on her mind the moment it occurred to her. He was used to expending all his energy trying to figure out the opposite sex. Women never said exactly what they meant, they were always playing some sort of game.
Maybe that was why he’d been reluctant to make a romantic commitment. How could a guy trust his heart to a woman when he couldn’t be sure when she was telling the truth and when she was lying? “I don’t have any secrets,” Rogan said. “Maybe we should talk about tomorrow’s itinerary.”
“Classic avoidance,” she said.
“I’m doing my job,” he countered.
“I’m sure everything will go exactly as planned.”
“You can’t plan for every eventuality, Dr. Mathison. I—”
“You should call me Claudia,” she interrupted. “Unless you deliberately want to maintain a distance between us. Which doesn’t seem to be the case since you’re still touching me.”
Rogan looked down to find his fingers still tangled in hers. Hell, he hadn’t even realized what he was doing. He gently pulled his hand away.
“I might change our plan a bit,” he said. “I don’t want to stress the group out too much on the first day.”
“It was a certified disaster today, wasn’t it?” she muttered. “I should have planned better. But it was just like a— What do you call that when snow slides down the side of a hill and—”
“Avalanche?”
“Yes! An avalanche. It started small and it just got bigger and bigger until I couldn’t seem to stop it. Avalanche. Why couldn’t I remember that word?”
“You’re exhausted. Your brain isn’t functioning at full capacity. And you’re working on your third martini.”
“I require very little sleep,” she informed him.
Jaysus, she was a quirky little thing, Rogan mused, suppressing a smile. “Yes, you mentioned that on the phone.”
“I know I can be a pain in the arse,” Claudia said. “And I’m sorry if I was overly demanding. I could tell you were irritated, but it always pays to be prepared. I like to be prepared. You can appreciate that, can’t you?”
“I can,” Rogan agreed. “But then, there is something to be said for spontaneity. Interesting things happen when you don’t plan for them.”
“I suppose so,” Claudia said. “I didn’t expect you to be so attractive. I didn’t plan on that.”
He chuckled softly. “What did you expect?”
“Someone older. Rougher around the edges. More commanding.”
“I’m not commanding?” Rogan asked.
“No. I mean, you’re obviously very competent. But I’d call you affable. Yes, that’s it. You’re affable.”
Was that really her first impression? Rogan wondered. Women were usually much more taken by his charm and devastating good looks. Or so they said. “And you’re drunk,” he said.
“Maybe,” Claudia admitted. “Just a little. But you’ll still be affable in the morning.”
For some reason, the sentiment seemed to amuse her and she got caught up in a long fit of giggles. Rogan found her loss of control just as endearing as her joke and he joined her until they were both giddy and breathless. Claudia took a deep breath. “I feel better now,” she said.
“Better than having a good cry?” he asked.
“Much better.”
“Come on then,” he said. “I’ve got you a room. You can finish your drink there. That way, if you pass out, you’ll already be in bed.”
He picked up her glass and waited while she got to her feet. Her bag was still sitting next to the stool. “Can you have someone bring her bag up to room 1114?” he asked the bartender.
“I can get my own bag,” Claudia protested. “I’m not that drunk.” She bent down to pick it up but had to reach out to balance herself on the back of the stool. “Then again, maybe I am.”
“Come on, Doc. Just put one foot in front of the other. The lift isn’t that far.”
“You are a very good guide,” Claudia said, waving her finger at him.
It took a bit of time for her to balance her purse and her bag, but then she took off at an amazingly brisk pace, her shoes clicking smartly against the marble floor as he followed. When they got to the lift, she pushed the button and stared at the lights above the door. He stood behind her, wondering what was going through her head.
Rogan knew exactly was going through his mind. His gazed drifted down to her bum and he contemplated the curves beneath the unfaded denim jeans. By appearances, she seemed to be the model of perfection, right down to her painted fingernails. But he got the sense that the prim and proper exterior was hiding a mess of contradictions on the inside.
He’d always heard that about shrinks, that they were usually more crazy than their patients. She’d been crazy enough to try to get five of her phobic patients on a plane together and fly them all to New Zealand, and crazy enough to plan this trip.
But though it was probably going to be a hellish week for him, he relished the chance to get to know her a little better.
Rogan had always been attracted to “easy” girls. Those who didn’t fuss over their appearance and who were ready to surf or bike or hike at a moment’s notice. That was obviously not Claudia Mathison. She was a planner, the kind of woman he usually found irritating. And yet, he found himself strangely attracted to her. Or maybe it wasn’t attraction, but curiosity.
Still, he’d be wise to temper the attraction with a healthy dose of suspicion. She wanted to analyze him, and he wasn’t about to bare his soul to a stranger, even if she was a beautiful, sexy, intriguing woman.
Revealing his insecurities and vulnerabilities wouldn’t do either one of them any good. She’d see him as flawed and he’d be constantly on edge, waiting for her to use the information against him. Hell, he hadn’t even revealed his innermost fears to his own brothers, and they were the two people he trusted most in the world.
Then again, maybe that was why he’d never fallen in love. He’d never trusted a woman enough to let her get close...really close. That kind of trust was a double-edged sword. It could open up a person to love but it could also destroy him in a single blow. Look what had happened to his mother. No, he’d keep his heart to himself.
But her challenge did intrigue him. He was sure he could get the good doctor to loosen up—without revealing any of his secrets.
The lift doors opened and she stumbled inside. Rogan followed her and they stood together as the door closed. She was closest to the control panel and he waited for her to push the button for the eleventh floor.
He smiled to himself. She’d fixed her gaze on the lights above the door again, her pretty face crunched into a frown. “This lift is broken,” she finally said. “It’s not moving. Or is it moving?” She leaned back against the wall. “Maybe I’m the one that’s moving.”
Rogan leaned across her and pushed the button. “I fixed it.”
As they rode up, he closed his eyes for a moment, drawing a deep breath and taking in the scent of her perfume. He usually didn’t care for perfume, but right now, his senses seemed to be operating in overdrive. Everything about her was much more tantalizing than it should be. By the time they reached her room, Rogan was already wondering what it might be like to kiss her.
She had an amazing mouth, wide and expressive, with lips the color of ripe berries. He knew the unwritten rule that a guide should never seduce a client. But Claudia really wasn’t a client. He wasn’t guiding her, he was guiding her patients. And so was she. By all accounts, they were coworkers. At least, that was the story he was telling himself.
He pulled her keycard out of his jacket pocket and handed it to her, but she struggled to make it work. Rogan reached for it, but she brushed him off. “I can certainly get the door open,” she said.
She made an amusing spectacle, her dark hair tumbling around her face, her color high. Each attempt was followed by a soft curse. “Not so quick,” he advised. “And wait for the light to go green before you pull it back out.” Claudia gave it a few more tries before she reluctantly handed the card to him. “You do it.”
He reached around her and unlocked the door, then pushed it open. “After you.”
Claudia turned and stood in the doorway, blocking his entrance. “Thank you for everything you did. I appreciate your...efficiency.”
He held out her drink. “Well, good night then.”
She reached out for it, but miscalculated and ended up knocking the glass into his chest. The vodka sloshed onto his shirt and she reached out to wipe it away. Rogan captured her hand with his and pressed it against his chest, her delicate fingers splaying over the damp fabric of his shirt. His pulse quickened and his heart pounded against her palm.
“Can I ask you a question?” she murmured.
She raised her gaze to his and he fought the urges coursing through him. “Sure,” he said.
“If you’re thinking about kissing me, what’s stopping you?”
Was that an invitation? Or a rhetorical question? He wasn’t sure. But the scent of her hair and the sight of her lush, damp mouth was too much to resist.
At the same time, she was drunk and he wasn’t about to do something that she’d regret the next morning. He bent closer and brushed his lips against her warm cheek.
When he drew back, her green eyes were wide with surprise, her lips parted as if she were about to say something. He fought the urge to take things a step further. Then she threw her arms around his neck and took the decision out of his hands.
Her lips were soft and damp, and as the kiss spun out of control, Rogan smoothed his hands around her waist and drew her closer. So much for him loosening her up. She seemed more than willing to live in the moment, and this moment was surprisingly powerful.
A flood of desire surged inside him, the anticipation acute. And yet, he couldn’t act on it; given her condition, it would be best to make a quick retreat.
He drew away, and before she had a chance to kiss him again or invite him inside, he gently pushed her farther into the room. “Good night, Claudia,” he said, grabbing the door. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
He turned and stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind him. As he strode toward the lift, Rogan reviewed his last move in his mind. There was an obvious attraction between him and Claudia that couldn’t be denied. But how far was she willing to go to explore it? Once sober, would she shut him down with some excuse about professional behavior? Or would she let down her hair and indulge?
He was a good guide, and he could handle whatever her patients threw his way. But Claudia was a different matter. She seemed to put him off his game, to jumble this thoughts and tease his desire. And with so much riding on the success of this trip, could he risk adding seduction to the adventure?
But was it a risk? After all, he was a master at separating sex from emotion. It wouldn’t be any different with Claudia Mathison.
