Searching for Always (Searching For 4)

He blinked. "Just told you. Me. My mother."

Her voice softened, deepening to a velvety, soothing pitch, urging him to spill all his secrets. "I think there's someone else. Another person in the house. A foster brother or sister? A friend? You got used to dealing with your father's rage until he went after someone new." She leaned forward, gaze locked on him with a sense of urgency. Within those emerald depths lay a vastness of understanding and gentleness he'd never been on the receiving end of. "Who was it, Stone?"

He jerked back. He'd gotten bashed in the face with a baseball bat and refused to cry. There was so much inside scarred up and dead he was grateful he never had to revisit. But Arilyn's final question stole his breath and drew blood.

He was done.

Stone stood up. "This is bullshit," he stated quietly. "I told you before I'll be straight with you, but don't dick around in my head and think you won't get hurt."

She never flinched. Just studied him for a long time, their gazes locked in a battle, until she slowly nodded. "I apologize. I went too deep, too fast. Why don't you sit back down and we'll talk about something else."

Who did she think she was? A yoga teacher turned matchmaker playing at being a therapist? She led a charmed life and had no idea of the harsh realities in the world. She controlled her reality while she viewed others through a set of rosy glasses so she could avoid the true mess. Breathing. Meditating. Helping animals. Even with a broken relationship behind her, she pretended to understand and transcend, citing a higher purpose and acceptance she didn't really feel.

It was a bunch of crap.

Maybe it was time she knew what it felt like to have her safe bubble ripped away.

Stone made his decision and slowly stalked across the room.

SHE'D SCREWED UP.

Arilyn watched the bristling, towering male approach her. Why did she push? Usually the first counseling session was easy, a getting-to-know-you phase and an opportunity to build trust. Instead, she'd done the unthinkable and hit on some hard issues way too soon.

Now she was in trouble.

Damn him. It was all his fault. All of that rippling male sexuality squeezed into a tiny office space would make any woman crazy. He practically gobbled up all the oxygen, and his wicked smiles and hot inky eyes roving over her figure should be illegal. Who owned biceps that massive? Her fingers curled with the need to sink her nails into them and test the hardness. She bet he'd be able to lift her high and pin her against the wall without strain, without needing a breath. How hot was that?

He was literally the worst type of man in the world to be attracted to. All that experience training her mind to be stronger than her body faded to nothing when he looked at her as if he planned on ripping off her clothes and ravishing every inch of her body with his tongue and lips and teeth.

Oh my God, what was she doing?

Arilyn fought the treacherous, weak need for his touch and struggled for calm. She needed to be in control of the situation, speak firmly, and get the session back on track.

Before he reached her.

"There's no need to get any closer or prove your point. I made an error, and I apologize again. Why don't we take a break, get some water, and meet back in a few minutes?"

His gaze pinned her to the chair. He took a few more steps.

Her heart exploded in her chest. Arilyn tried to breathe.

"W-We need to make sure we keep our professional distance and don't blur any of the lines. I'm your counselor and teacher. Emotional highs and lows are expected when we're exploring triggers that cause anger."

He didn't break a smile or his stride. He stopped in front of her, forcing her head to tilt way, way back to hold her ground. Showing strength was key. Stay cool and calm. Even though his body heat was blistering in waves around her, and he smelled so damn good, like woods and musk and ocean and soap. With his tight, worn jeans, black T-shirt stretched over meaty biceps, and the deadly focus from those carved features, a shiver raced down her spine. Sexy stubble hugged that square jawline, emphasizing the lush softness to his lips, framed like a gift. He was total male predator, domineering cop, and sexual alpha male wrapped up in one package.

"Let's talk triggers."

She shivered. "Y-Yes. For instance, it seems we hit one now. Why don't we talk and explore it?"

He laughed low. "Do you soothe all your angry male clients this way? Talk them down with that musical voice of yours? Pretend to know what they've gone through? Tell them the world is a big, beautiful place full of rainbows and leprechaun gold?" He dropped his voice. "Is that what you tell yourself?"

She jerked in the chair. Her breath strangled in her throat. He wasn't touching her, yet her skin blistered from his nearness. "I understand more than you think," she said calmly.

"Bullshit. You know nothing about hard times or pain, other than the normal breakup of a relationship. How do you expect to counsel us on anger when you've denied yourself that human emotion?"

His words stung and pummeled. She lifted her arms halfway to cover her face from the attack. Then felt herself snap.

She jumped from the chair and faced him head-on. The look of surprise on his face only urged her forward. "You want to know how I know about pain? Do you think I was raised in a bubble of goodness and light, dragged from Buddha's mountaintop? I earned my peace by working for it! I sweat blood and tears and opened myself up for something better to climb out of such a deep depression I never thought I'd survive. My mother died of cancer. I watched her disintegrate before my eyes, changing from a laughing, robust woman to a shell. She smoked, drank, partied, had bad food. She was the poster child of extremes in the pursuit of fun. Before I barely buried her, my father died right afterward, committing suicide because he couldn't live without my mother. You think I wasn't angry? Sometimes I'd scream at the top of my lungs just to stay sane. My father killed himself because I wasn't enough. Try living with that one."

"Arilyn--"

"No, I'm not done. I was a complete nerd and geek and had difficulty making friends. I was left alone with no one except my grandfather. Instead of taking a bucket of pills to live or becoming like my mother and trashing my body, I decided to search for more. I studied yoga, meditation, religion, and learned how to live in the light rather than in the darkness. I learned how to treat my body like the temple it is. I forced myself to open up and confess my fears and my pain to a therapist. I decided to help others, but I work on myself every damn day, even though I sometimes don't want to."

The silence was shattering. Her righteous anger drained away and left her with pure horror. What she shared almost crippled her, but she dug deep and owned every last shred of truth. Why not? Why hide any more from him or pretend to be something she wasn't? Maybe it was best he knew all her crappy secrets and that most of the time she had no idea what she was doing. That she'd been broken once, too.

"Feel better now?" she asked. "I believe our session is over. I'll see you tomorrow in class." Wrapping the last shred of her dignity around her, she backed away around the chair and walked to her desk. Lengthening her breath, she reconnected with her center and allowed the rioting emotions to ride through her.

He turned and stopped at the door. "I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for."

"Yes, I do." He glanced at her. Those inky eyes pierced into hers and right through to her soul. The energy between them knotted tighter. "I misjudged you. I make mistakes, too, and when I do, I say I'm sorry."

Her tension eased. Slowly, Arilyn nodded, accepting his gesture. "Apology accepted."

"Good." He grasped the doorknob and pulled. "I won't make the same mistake again."

He left. His words echoed in the air, more like a threat mingled with a promise.

One she definitely didn't want to explore.

Her cell phone chirped. Arilyn grabbed it, grateful for the distraction, and collapsed in the chair. "Hi, Anthony. What's up?"

"Two things. Lenny and Mike are ready for

their foster parents."

A combination of grief and joy rushed through her. She'd gotten attached to those fur balls and the house wouldn't be the same. "That's great."

Anthony's voice softened. "I know it's hard, A. You gave them a priceless gift. The shelter would be in trouble without you."

She blinked back the sting of tears and fought through. She loved fostering the animals to go into their forever homes, but the good-byes were brutal. Still, the puppies would be together and happy and that was what mattered. "I'll bring them by tomorrow."

"Thanks. I also got those pics you sent me. Place looks like a breeding ground for abuse. I'm waiting on a few organizations to get back to me so we may be able to move on this by late next week."

Arilyn knew she should be happy. Hell, it was great progress, especially with Stone's backup confirmation, but she kept thinking about that empty doghouse. She sensed a presence there, but who knew what type of shape the dog was in? "Any possibility of getting it checked out earlier? I'm worried."

Anthony sighed. "I know. We all are, but this business requires patience. Move too fast or get sloppy and we don't get any results. Right?"

"Yeah, right." That depression was slipping back over her. "Thanks for calling, Anthony."

She hung up and tapped her fingers on the desk. Usually she was the embodiment of patience. Waiting for karma to kick in. Waiting for justice. For happiness. For . . . everything.

She was tired of being passive in so many areas of her life. Opening her heart and hoping for good things.

Maybe some action was needed in order to make a difference. She didn't want to hang around anymore like a good girl. She wanted results.

Tonight.

When the idea took root and flowered, she refused to doubt herself.

Arilyn made her decision and got back to work.

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