“Alright, take a deep breath in with me.” I listened as Kaspar took an exaggerated breath in and followed his breathing, but it wasn’t enough.
Udo rubbed his tires against mine, making the car jerk to the side. I had control of the car, but not of myself.
“Only five more laps.”
Five more laps and I would be dead—or at least it felt like it.
“Kaspar,” I croaked out, “I think I’m having a heart attack.”
There was a beat of silence before a familiar, yet unfamiliar voice came on over the headset. “Callum, I think you’re having a panic attack. Have you ever had one before?” Rylee’s soft voice drifted through my head.
I couldn’t be having a panic attack. Panic attacks were for pussies. I’d seen plenty of wrecks in my days and been a part of quite a few of them as well. There was no way that’s what this was.
“The medic, Rylee. I’m…” My breath got caught in my chest, and I wheezed.
“Pull into the pit, Callum,” she demanded.
If I didn’t finish, I wouldn’t qualify.
“I know what you’re thinking, and it doesn’t matter. Your safety and health are more important than anything else at this moment.” If it had been anyone else who’d said those words, I wouldn’t have listened. Maybe I only listened because I knew if I didn’t, I was going to wreck and very well might not make it back.
When the pit lane came into view, I slowed down even more and made my way to our slot. The moment I stopped, someone ripped off my helmet, and our team medics were by my side, checking me out.
“Can you get out?” he asked from beside me.
There were too many hands all around me as they tried to unbuckle me and remove the steering wheel so I could get out. The rest was a blur. It was as if I’d blacked out. The only thing I remembered was our team doctor saying I was fine, but I’d had a panic attack. Colton and Rylee were in the room, but I wasn’t sure when they had arrived because they hadn’t been there when we first went in.
Rylee gave me a sympathetic look while Colton remained stoic. I hated to disappoint him, but I was more disappointed in myself. How could I have lost control so easily from witnessing a wreck I’d seen hundreds of times before?
There was no simple explanation.
Aspen
Barcelona
“Mr. Crew is here to see you, Dr. Belle,” my secretary, Maria, called through from the intercom.
I looked at the clock and saw that he was over twenty minutes early. Not something I was used to in Barcelona.
“Let me finish up these notes. Give me five minutes, and then you can send him in,” I replied, pushing my glasses up the bridge of my nose. They were constantly sliding, and I was endlessly pushing them up all because I couldn’t touch my eyeball to put in my contacts.
Five minutes later, Maria knocked on my door before she opened it and let my next client in.
Standing, I smoothed down my black skirt and moved around my desk to meet him. Today hadn’t gotten off to a great start with my ex-boyfriend showing up out of the blue at the ass crack of dawn to ask me to take him back after he dumped me for another woman four months ago. I was finally moving on after he broke my heart, and the last thing I needed or wanted was to see him again.
The whole thing with Alejandro had left me out of sorts all morning long, and I didn’t want my new client to pick up on it. The first impression was always important, especially with a patient. It factored in with how soon they opened up.
Lifting my head and extending my arm to shake his hand, I was shocked when I took him in. I blinked slowly, as if in a dream. The man before me looked like JKF Jr. in the flesh with longish brown hair that was sexily tousled like only the rich seemed to be able to do. Only this guy had blue eyes that reminded me of a stormy ocean. The scruff on his jaw made me want to feel it between my legs. The fact that he had that much power over me in only a few seconds spelled bad news.
Stepping closer, I greeted him. “Good afternoon. I’m Dr. Belle. It’s nice to meet you.”
Taking the hand that was still hanging, he gave me a grimace of a smile. His low, but deep voice grumbled out. “I wish I could say the same thing.”
Alright, he was going to be one of those clients that hated being here and talking about their problems–typical American.
“Why don’t you have a seat wherever you feel comfortable, and we’ll start. Would you like something to drink?”
“Water would be nice. Thanks.” He looked around at his seating options before he chose the leather chair in front of my desk.
I didn’t like to tell my patients where to sit, especially the ones who didn’t want to be here in the first place. It seemed all the new ones who’d never been to see a therapist before expected me to demand they lie on my couch and spill all their deep dark secrets in the first hour after meeting me.
Taking my seat behind my desk, I cleared the lust from my throat before I hit the intercom button. “Maria, could you please bring us two bottles of water?”
“Yes, Dr. Belle. I’ll be right there.”
We remained quiet, examining each other as we waited for Maria to bring our drinks. I didn’t want to have to stop when she came in, and the view before me didn’t hurt.
I couldn’t remember the last time a man affected me so viscerally. Not even Alejandro had made me forget myself for a split second when we’d met.
Again, Maria knocked before she came in, as she always did. She placed both water bottles on my desk without a word or even a glance at the dream-like man in front of me before she left.
Leaning forward, he took one of the bottles, twisted off the cap, and then drank almost half the contents in one swallow.
“Shall we get started? I was told you needed an expedited process, but that’s all I was told. Whoever called for you didn’t seem to understand therapy doesn’t really work that way. It’s ongoing work.” I got right to the point. There was no sense in us wasting time if he was going to scoff at this being more than a one-time session.
Twisting the lid back on this water, his blue eyes locked with mine and rendered me incapable of thought for a moment. I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to help him if I couldn’t get my libido in check. Had no sex for four months reduced me to a woman who couldn’t control herself?
“I’m a bit of an emergency case. I’ll admit I’ve never been to a therapist, although my boss’s wife is a counselor and there have been times when I felt like I was in a session, or what I imagine a session to be like when talking to her.” He slid his hands over his jean-clad legs. Jeans that were plastered against muscular legs that had me wanting him to rip them off and show me what he was hiding. “Sorry, I’m rambling. I’m nervous that you won’t be able to help me and while I hate to admit it, I need help. And fast.”
“May I call you Callum?”
“Yeah, of course,” he answered as if it was a silly question.
He had one of those voices that made you want to listen to him say anything. If he wanted to recite the phone book to me, I’d happily lie in a puddle of my own drool as I sat and listened while ogling him. Which was a problem.