Her eyes were bright, feverish looking. She nodded.
“I know. It’s inappropriate. You having a physical response, assuming you did—”
“I did. A hell of one,” I said wryly.
“A hell of one,” she repeated faintly. “Okay, that’s encouraging, but you can’t think about me that way. I can’t treat you even in a group capacity if sexual feelings are involved, Tyler. It’s wrong and it’s dangerous.”
I let her see the darkness in my eyes, the heat. She was getting flustered, blinking faster, her neck and chest flushing a pretty pink. She chewed her full lower lip, giving me every cue of arousal possible.
“I know you feel it, too, Layla,” I said, my voice low and rough. I saw her respond to it, felt again that I could scent her, that I smelled desire on her.
“I shouldn’t have come here. I will refer you to another counselor on staff who can help you,” she said.
“I only want to talk to you. I can make an appointment if you’d rather I come to your office. Alone. One on one,” I said, letting each word drop slowly. A faint shiver ran over her and I felt it through my body as well.
“I can’t do that. I’m sorry,” she said firmly. And before I knew what was happening, she was out the door.
10
Layla
“Caroline, if you get an appointment request from Tyler Leeds, just refer him to another therapist, preferably Josh,” I said.
“Are you okay? Did this guy do something inappropriate?” Caroline asked.
“No. It’s fine. It’s nothing but a personality conflict. I just can’t treat him myself,” I said, dismissing her concern.
I saw my patients and then psyched myself up to go to the vineyard and speak to him in person. I had to ask him not to attend the support group. I hated to do it, but it was the only safe recourse.
When I reached the vineyard and parked in the crowded lot, I had to walk a long way into the new construction before I found Tyler. He had his shirt off. Damn the patriarchy sideways, why did men do that? All that expanse of tanned, sweaty skin drawn across the cut lines of insane muscles that my fingers itched to trace. It was aggressive, the sexuality that poured off of him. To think that for over a year he hadn’t felt so much as a stirring of response. Then the irony that I had ignited his interest, when I was the last person on earth who could ever be with him. It ached a little, the unfairness of it. That he wanted me, and I sure as hell wanted him and his one hell of a physical response after so long dormant. But I couldn’t have him. It was a breach of ethics, a breach of trust. I couldn’t. I could want until my mouth went dry and parched, but I could not have him.
“Tyler, do you have a minute?” I called. He said something to the other men and came over to the gravel path to meet me.
“What brings you here, doc?” he said.
“Could you put a shirt on?” I said.
“No. It’s hot. Why?”
“I’d just feel more comfortable talking to you if you were fully clothed. I wouldn’t think that would be an issue. Proper attire,” I said, my voice prim.
“You wouldn’t think, except I work outside, and it’s hot. No sense putting on a shirt I’ll sweat through in half an hour. What can I do for you?”
“Fine. I hate to ask this, but I need a favor,” I began.
“Anything,” he said quickly, as if he meant it.
“Stay home from group tomorrow night.”
“Are you going to meet me here?” he looked surprised and a little excited by the prospect.
“God, no! I just need you to not be there. I know the group was helpful to you so I’m willing to give it up. There is another counselor who’s willing to take it over but he can’t start until next week.”
“It sounds like you’re banishing me,” he said with a half laugh.
“I’m doing it for your protection,” I said.
“I’m in danger?” he said archly
“You deserve a counselor you can trust. It would be unforgivable of me to treat you knowing that there is a sexual element or undercurrent to any interaction between us. It’s an abuse of power, a violation,” I said. “I apologize for meeting you for coffee and trying to feed you pie and touching your arm and every other unprofessional thing I did that I hate myself for.”
“My shoulder,” he said.
“What?” I asked blankly.
“You didn’t touch my arm,” he said. “This is my arm.”
I rolled her lips under and nodded as if he were teaching me something entirely new, an anatomy lesson I had no idea of before. He stepped in closer and reached for my hand.
“This is my shoulder, that’s what you touched,” he said, lifting my hand and putting it back where it had been the night before. Then it had seared me through the fabric of his old t-shirt. Now it was a shock of skin to skin contact, flesh with no barrier. My lips parted. “I know exactly where you touched me. I haven’t stopped feeling it since,” he said.
I yanked her hand out from under his and stepped back. “I apologize. That was inappropriate. I came here to ask you to skip group one time until I can reassign it to another counselor. I won’t treat you. But I’ll get a colleague to take over so you can attend and get the help you deserve. I’m sorry, Tyler. I don’t know what kind of game you think we’re playing her, but I damn sure can’t win it. This is risking my career. It’s strictly forbidden, and you know why I can’t treat you.”
“Then I’ll quit attending group. I won’t be your patient.”
“No. Please, Tyler. You were opening up; you were interacting with Ben and the others. It was helping. Don’t give that up. I’m not worth that,” I said, anguished. I couldn’t let him give it up. Not after I had heard the raw grief in his voice, and the tiniest grain of hope when he said some interests were coming back. Even if I couldn’t be the one who brought pleasure back into his life.
“You think you’re not worth that? Me giving up a couple hours a week in an ugly room with some other crazy people? We’re a fucking dime a dozen, Layla, and you know it. That’s how easy it is to fill a room with us. You’re the reason I was going. Not because some magical healing took place there. God, you’re worth a hundred of them, of us,” he said, anger riding at the edge of his voice as he stepped closer.
“I am not. It’s insulting for you to say so,” I bristled. “You went through hell. Everyone in that group went through their own kind of hell. Don’t think that diminishes their worth or yours. I admire your courage and resilience and—”
“I don’t want you to admire me, Layla, I want your hands on me. So if I’m not your patient, maybe you can help me off the clock. With some sexual healing,” he said.
I stalked away appalled that he’d said that. I was more disgusted that my body flared in response to it. I hurried across the muddy ruts out to the parking lot, knowing that he was following me. I had to get in my car and drive off before he caught me. God knows what I’d do if he grabbed my arm. Flustered, I broke into a run and dashed to my car, trying to get it unlocked. Struggling with the door, I cussed and dropped my keys.