“Thursday.” Nathan said shortly. He stood, and tried to brush past Chris to reach his desk, but he blocked his way. The only thought in Nathan's mind was that he needed to put that immense desk between them. For both of their safety.
“It’s a date!” Chris made his way toward the door but Nathan spun on his heel and stopped him with and out-flung arm.
“It is a therapy session, Mr. Hobbs. Nothing more.”
“You’re going to try to heal me?” His voice dripped with sarcasm.
“I can’t help you if you don’t want it.” Nathan's frustration came off a little breathier than he would have liked. Standing so close to this man was disconcerting.
Chris reach forward and tucked a stray hair behind his ear. Nathan froze at the contact.
“Oh, I want it.” Chris' tone was entirely too serious, and Nathan felt his breath catch in his throat. Why did he have to look at him with such intensity? He forced himself to look away.
Before he could manage a response, Chris had stepped past him and out into the hallway.
Nathan had no idea whether or not he would show up for their Thursday session. He also had difficult time determining whether or not he wanted him to.
With a deep sigh, Nathan sunk into his plush leather chair. He leaned forward and placed his forehead against the cool desk.
What had he gotten himself into?
Chapter Five
Two days later, Chris was still having trouble distracting himself from thoughts of the incredibly sexy Dr. Bennett. Holy smokes, but he made his blood churn! Never would he have expected that the laid back, witty guy from the bar would be none other than his pristine therapist with the leather loafers and the fancy suit.
He had kept himself busy between the shooting range and exploring old haunts on his motorcycle. Though he was still the best shot on base, and had even run in to some old riding pals, there was not much that kept the absorbing, compelling man from his mind.
He pulled the Harley into a gas station after a particularly long afternoon astride the beast. He had almost finished pumping the gasoline when he heard a commotion on the far side of the station.
A young woman was battling three rowdy kids as she attempted to put air in a seriously deflated tire.
Annabelle Pomeretti.
Chris felt his stomach roll and twist. For a moment he thought that he might actually be sick. There, in her beat-up blazer was the wife, the widow, of Chris’s recently deceased best friend.
She looked like hell. No surprise there.
A young mother of three, newly widowed and left to fend for herself.
It was no surprise that she looked as if she had been hung out to dry.
For a moment, he considered speaking with her, but then thought otherwise. She looked stressed-out enough without a confrontation with Chris. For he knew that it would be just that. He was supposed to visit the family after Tony’s funeral, but he had not. Tony had been an avid family man. His wife and children were the pride of his life. As the best friend, and as a member of the same unit, he should have been there to help the family in their time of need.
However, he simply could not bring himself to do it. Guilt washed over him for his actions. He kicked the bike into gear and rumbled away before she could recognize him. Maybe he was a coward, but he was not ready to speak with her.
Instead, he decided to go visit one of his old riding buddies. At least these guys, who had slowly eased away from the life of crime, were not known for asking questions.
Chapter Six
Nathan sat at his desk, brooding. Chris was potentially coming in for his appointment this afternoon and he had no idea what to do.
All of his spare time in the past days had been spent going over the extensive notes of Chris’s case file.
He was a highly decorated Seal sniper with more medals of honor than he had even heard of. It was obvious that he was the best of the best. The elite. He was known for his ability to evaluate a situation with quick and precise determination. He flawlessly executed his plans, led his unit with poise and precision, and never took unnecessary risks. Their team was both skilled and unnaturally successful on their missions. How, then, had everything gone so terribly wrong?
The case report from his most recent mission was shocking enough to raise the hair on the back of Nathan’s neck.
The elite group of seals had somehow been ambushed while they had been separated. One by one, the team members were slaughtered.
All except for Chris Hobbs.
The incident was currently under investigation and Nathan now understood why Chris was so hesitant to talk.
There were conflicting testimonies in the case. Chris’s debriefing had raised some questions that were inconsistent with the investigator’s findings.
Obviously his survival had raised questions. Despite their best efforts the analysts were unable to locate, or determine, infiltration by any enemy forces.
It appeared that the deaths had been an inside job. Cold-blooded murders.
Nathan could not blame his commanding officers for sending Chris to a therapist. Their theory was that if Chris was responsible for the deaths of his teammates, then a therapist might be able to draw a confession from him. If he was somehow innocent, they might be able to gather details about what actually occurred. If this were the case, they figured that he would need professional help to deal with the trauma of such a brutal, internal attack.
Was Chris Hobbs a homicidal manic? Had he murdered his own teammates and best friend?
Nathan tried to force that thought from his mind but it kept circling back to the same details.
A small notation at the base of the report was what concerned Nathan the most. One of the victims had almost survived the attack. While the medics had been struggling to keep him alive, he had spoken in short incoherent bursts. The only thing that anyone had been able to piece together was a short string of words. They were: “Hobbs took him out.”
Nathan could not keep that phrase out of his mind. Hobbs took who out? All of them?
That is what the evidence pointed to. The sole survivor with a finger pointed firmly in his direction.
Nathan had no idea how to process this information. Additionally, if he was expected to draw forth a confession, how could he manage that now, when their professional relationship was already so muddled?
Try as he might, Nathan could not find a solution. He only hoped that if he did show up for their session, he could remain calm.
If Chris really did take out his entire team, should Nathan be afraid of him? Surprisingly, He did not feel that fear. Despite what he had learned, Nathan still found himself innately trusting of the man. Maybe it was because of the fact that they were already intimately connected, but at no point during their encounter at the bar had Nathan felt unsafe or uncomfortable with Chris. If he had, he would have been long gone before Chris could have said, “What are you drinking?”
Nathan needed to keep his wits about him on this case, for sure. Not only did his evaluation have the ability to make or break Chris’s career, but he also knew that the committee would be watching the case closely. If he was suspected of showing preference, or irrational judgment in any way, it would be the end of his own career.
With a sigh, he turned back to the beginning of the file. Maybe if he re-read the notes he would come across something helpful. Not, he reminded himself, that it had worked the first dozen times.
Chapter 7
With a soft knock Chris entered the office to find Nathan swinging his chair back and forth in front of the window. He must have been deep in thought because it was obvious that he had not heard him enter.
With a grin, Chris crept up behind his chair with the silent steps of a professional. When the high-backed chair swung in front of him, he stopped it firmly in its tracks.
He had never seen a man move so fast. Nathan was out of the chair in an instant and rounding on him as if braced for a fight.
When recog
nition dawned on him, he placed an open palm against his chest and took a series of calming breaths. Seeing him thus disconcerted made Chris feel a sudden jolt of desire.
“You can’t sneak up on people like that!” Nathan gasped.
Chris laughed. “Sure I can. I have years of training that tell me it’s okay.”
Nathan punched him on the shoulder, giving an exasperated grin. In response Chris slid and arm around his shoulders and turned him toward him.
With wary eyes, Nathan gazed at him. One dark arched eyebrow raised as he waited for Chris to release him. He did, but not before they both felt the heat that pulsed between their bodies as they pressed against one another.
“You’ve read my file,” Chris quipped, as he flung himself lengthwise along a nearby couch. Placing his arms behind his head he closed his eyes and assumed what he considered was the stereotypical therapy position. “I’m ready for you to shrink me, Doc.”
He heard Nathan sink into the chair directly across from him.
Chris knew from the look that had crossed Nathan's face earlier that he was now intimately familiar with the details of the investigation. If that were so, then there was no point in Chris elaborating any further. He had made his statement and he was sticking to it.
“Are you going to take this seriously?” Nathan's voice was low and calming.
“Sure.” Chris replied. “I’d say we are about as serious as I can ever remember being with a man. We’ve seen each other, what… three times this week?”
He could almost hear Nathan close his eyes in frustration. “I’ll take that as a no.” He sighed.
“What do you want to know?” Chris asked. “I’m an open book.” He settled more comfortably into the sofa.
“Why don’t we just start with you telling me about yourself?” Nathan's voice once again reverted to its professional tone.
“Well… as you know I’m extremely charming. Damn near irresistible, so I’ve been told. I mean by you.” He turned his head and glanced quickly at Nathan, who was flushed and looked extremely discomforted. “You said that, you know.”
Nathan’s only response was a glare that could freeze fire.
“Anyways…” Chris resumed his pensive playacting. “I’ve spent more time overseas in the past ten years than I have on home soil. I own my own home, which my sister happily decorated even though I can’t for the life of me find a thing in it, and I’m more of a dog person than a cat person, but that’s really irrelevant since I don’t own either. If you want references I would be happy to pro…”
“Are you finished?” Nathan’s voice cut his off with steely precision. “As witty as you seem to think that you are, Mr. Hobbs, your little speech actually reveals quite a lot about you.”
“Is that so?” He rolled to his side and stared at him. “I would love to hear your evaluation.”
“Oh, you’re textbook.” He smiled blandly. He knew very well that Chris would bristle against any claim of the sort, and he continued, relentlessly. “You’re a classic loner. No enduring personal relationships. Sure, you have friends and family, but no one would be surprised if you disappeared for several years and then showed up at the holidays as if you never left.” Nathan watched his eyes narrow. Chris clearly did not like where this was going. “You ride a motorcycle and run with the most elite men in the military because you think you’re tough. So tough, that you are perfectly unscathed by the brutal deaths of your team, best friend, and what should have been your own end of the line.”
Chris was mad now. Nathan could see it. He felt an inner grim satisfaction. He was annoyed by Chris' refusal to take his sessions seriously and he had decided to cut through his playacting. His words were hitting Chris too close to home, now, and that was a good thing. He continued.
“Instead of being open about what happened, you keep your mouth shut because you think that you can deal with it. Well, you know what!” He was almost shouting, now. “You can’t. I lost one of my own brothers in Afghanistan, and I thought the other four were going to tear themselves to pieces before they accepted help. That’s the reason I went into PTSD and grief counseling. I saw what it did for them. I know what it can do for you.”
“I don’t need counseling.” Chris sat up and faced him with a serious expression.
“Why not?” Nathan challenged. “Tell me what happened, and let me be the judge of that.” He saw his patient tense, and smiled inwardly. He was not letting him get out of this.
“I’ll tell you if I can get a repeat of the other night.” Chris grinned. “Stop it,” Nathan warned.
“Alright, fine...I’ll make an exception if you at least go on a date with me,” he demurred, grinning.
“Get out,” Nathan hissed. His face was carefully neutral, his voice like ice.
With a gesture of surrender, Chris got to his feet. For a moment, he thought that he had seen a flicker of interest in his eyes. When Nathan’s office door swung shut behind him he felt a moment of pride that he was so sensitive to his flirtations. Afterward, however, he felt guilty for giving him such a hard time.
Chapter 8
Nathan was at a loss. What was he supposed to do about Chris’s impossible attitude?
He blatantly refused to talk, continuously upended their professional relationship with flirtations and reminders of their one steamy encounter. The problem was, a part of him had wanted to accept his offer.
That, more than anything else, worried him.
He should not be harboring feelings for a patient. He should not be thinking about, remembering, or fantasizing about sexual encounters with aforementioned patient. He should not be considering a date, and where that might lead, and whether or not it produced results.
The worst part was, he had liked the idea of a date even without the offer of information.
He just wanted to see him again. That was all.
Nathan shook his head and tried to regain some semblance of sanity. He was supposed to be focusing on his case, not his long legs spread over the length of his sofa. Not his killer abs that even the layered shirts that he had been wearing could not disguise. Definitely not how his arms had clenched around him, holding him close, as they made love.
Nathan needed to focus. He needed to find a new approach. A solution.
He drummed his fingers on his desk as he thought.
Finally, he flipped open his case file and dialed the number inside.
While he waited for an answer, he lectured herself on the necessity of maintaining a professional relationship with one's clients. Especially, one who could be as potentially dangerous as Chris Hobbs.
“Barclay.” The gruff voice answered.
“Commander Barclay. This is Doctor Bennett at the VA Clinic. I was hoping that you had a moment.”
The man on the other end of the line grunted.
“Hobbs’s giving you problems, huh? I’m not surprised.” He sighed, and Nathan imagined a weathered man rubbing his brow in frustration. “What can I do to help you?”
“I’d like a little insight, if you don’t mind.” He explained. “I don’t seem to be getting anywhere and I was wondering what your thoughts were on the situation.”
“It’s a damn muck-up.” The commander spat. “Hobbs is one of the best men I’ve ever worked with. It doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t fit.”
Nathan waiting with bated breath for him to continue.
“He has an impeccable record. He is thorough, reliable, and resilient. His men loved him. They trusted him. I just don’t see how Chris could have done this. If Murphy hadn’t said those words I’d have told the investigators that they were off their rockers. Even so, who knows what sort of mindset Murph was in at the time. Maybe he was confused…”
Nathan listened to the commander trying to piece together an outcome that seemed unlikely.
“Commander Barclay, I can’t seem to get your boy to open up. Do you have any suggestions?”
Laughter trickled over the phone.
“Hobb
s isn’t going to open up to anyone. Especially not a therapist. He’s rock solid and too smart for that. No, if he tells anyone, which I highly doubt he will, it will be someone he trusts with his life. Hell, he wouldn’t even talk to me and we’ve been to Hell and back more times than I can count.” He paused, and then continued. “Chris isn’t one to volunteer information about himself, and definitely not about something he has already decided to keep a secret. Those of us who know him well only have our own observations to work with. I can’t say that I envy your job, Dr. Bennett, but I hope you understand how important it is that you succeed.”
Nathan considered the Commander’s words.
He thanked him and hung up with a new level of resolve. He needed to trust him. Not as a therapist, but as a person.
He wondered how serious he had been about his offer of a date. He just might have to take him up on it and find out.
Chapter 9
Chris was lounging in his living room, pretending to watch television, but really just lost in his own wayward thoughts. A knock at the door drew him from his reverie.
When he opened the door, Chris wished that he had glanced through a nearby window first. By the time he was standing in front of the glass frame, it was too late. The visitor could clearly see his shadow approaching through the tempered panes and he could not back away now.
Annabelle Pomeretti stood on his covered porch with a weathered box against her hip. The look on her face meant business. She was not going to be avoided any longer.
“Anna.” Chris greeted her.
She stared at him for a long moment before responding.
“I expected you to come visit.” Somehow he managed to sound cold and full of emotion at the same time.
Celestial Seductions: The Complete Series: An MM Gay Paranormal Mpreg Romance Collection Page 40