Chapter 2
Dr. Blakely Smythe
After all that happened tonight, it's impossible to sleep so I grab a Kindle romance and head for my couch. I know I’m using the novel to block my real emotions but it’s late. I’ll deal with my feelings tomorrow or even next week. However, every time my finger swipes across the screen, I feel the warmth of the bodyguard’s hand which causes the lips between my legs to dampen.
My reaction to him is probably due to an overdose of oxytocin, the hormone that causes a victim to fall for her savior. Regardless, like a love-struck teenager, I squirm, wondering if I’ll ever see him again. He obviously was interested in me and didn’t try to move away when I covered his hand with mine. Was I too forward when I insisted he take my card? Shouldn’t he have asked for my number first?
Shit. I’ve studied human behavior, have a practice on Fifth Avenue and yet when it comes to my own relationships, I’m a novice. I try to break my thoughts away from how he held my gaze captive while we sat in the dark. This works quite well until I reach a sexy scene in my novel. The lips between my legs twitch, my nipples harden and I use my fingers to release the tension.
The last thing I remember is my Kindle clunking to the floor. All night, I dream of a pirate with dark eyes who dives into the water to save me from drowning.
I chuckle as I make my coffee when I wake. It doesn’t take a degree in psychology to figure out what my subconscious was trying to say. Later, at my office, I check my day planner. In addition to Rasha, I’ve got two appointments before noon and two after.
The young Iranian shows up, right on time. “I really don’t need a doctor. I just wanted to thank you. Of course, I’ll pay you for your time.”
I wish I had a dime for every time I heard that line.“Please sit.”
She looks a bit panicked gazing at my couch so I point to the overstuffed chair, opposite mine.
“There is fine. We can just talk for a little while, if you like.” I give her a warm smile and lean back so as not to crowd her. “How are you?”
“Fine.” The way her mouth turns down and the dark circles under her eyes tell a much different story but I don’t challenge her, not yet.
“Your brother?” I raise my eyebrows, not caring so much about him but more how his actions have affected her.
She shakes her head, long dark locks hiding her face. “He’s under arrest. My parents blame me and have officially disowned me.”
“That hardly seems fair. I know how difficult families can be.” My chair creaks when I cross my ankles and fold my hands in my lap to seem as unthreatening as possible.
Her brown eyes darken as her gaze goes up toward my window with an unremarkable view of the building next door.
“This is all because I refused to marry the man they chose for me.” She grabs a tissue from the small end table next to her chair and blows. “He’s twice my age and a friend of my father’s. Everyone says because of my actions and the fact I wear jeans, it would be better if I were dead. My father lost his job and my parents are no longer welcome in their mosque. My whole family is shunned because of me.”
One of the things I try to do is help victims understand their role. In this case, Rasha decided to be powerful, even if she doesn’t realize it. “Didn’t you know this would be the result of your actions?”
“Well, I knew it might be hard for them to accept my decision but I never expected my brother to try to kill me.” Her voice cracks. “Thank God Ms. Melanie brought her bodyguard or who knows what might’ve happened. You seemed so calm last night. How did you do that?”
“I just hide it better. I was very afraid as well.”
Rasha closes her sad eyes and sighs. “Last night keeps playing over and over again in my mind. How my brother just appeared at the bottom of the stairs and how Mr. Taylor flew across the room. He was almost superhuman.”
“He was amazing.” The pirate of my dreams appears in the dim room but I cast him overboard so I can focus on my patient. “Are you safe now, Rasha?”
“Yeah. It’s weird. A huge man showed up this morning as I left my dorm and said he’s my bodyguard. When I didn’t believe him, he gave me his cell phone, and the billionaire, Grayson Patten the third, answered. Can you imagine? He said not to worry, the cost is covered. How do you suppose he even found out about me?”
“Grayson is good friends with CJ Quinn. I would guess Melanie had something to do with it.”
“Well, I’m not quite sure whether to thank her or throw the big brute back.”
I chuckle at her wording. “Why?”
“Are they all so bossy?”
“I think it comes with the job description. You probably should keep him until he says it’s safe.”
“From his point of view, that will probably be never.” She looks at the door, as if he might walk in at any minute.
I try to add a bit of reason. “Mel said Grayson’s men are top notch. I suggest you let this man, whoever he is, watch over you. Will you be okay, financially?”
