“Because you never think it through.” Tash broke into her thoughts. “You know I love you to bits, Jess. You’re my favorite kind of therapy. But I can’t keep picking up the pieces.”
“I’m not asking you to.” Jess grumbled. “How about if I make it something boring then?” She slumped down in her seat. “Shall we knit an afghan for an orphanage in Botswana…would you and Nana Jayne be up for that?”
“Absolutely.” Tash flashed a grin. They’d been friends too long for either of them to get offended easily. Especially when Jess was in this kind of mood. “Now, what about this guy from the party?” Tash’s brow furrowed with concern. “I think we should call Jayne and find out more about him.”
Jess took a quick glance around the room. Ever since she’d gotten here, she’d been expecting Van to come leaping out of the woodwork. Jess had given Tash a very edited version of the party, leaving out all the bits that had happened afterward. Tash would definitely not understand. Hell, Jess didn’t understand half of it herself.
“I’ll see her tomorrow at the clinic, I guess.”
There was no point worrying about Van now. And Tash would just see it as another mess she had to tidy up. Besides, Jess had plenty of other things to keep her occupied, like how to dodge the newly minted Cole-and-Madison couple at the apartment.
They were hell-bent on playing happy family. With her as the surrogate child.
It was hard not to be jealous. Or to look at Madison and see how easy the beautiful debutante had it. Clothes, money, a great apartment. Except Madison was too bloody nice to hate on. And Cole deserved to have someone in his life. He had a future full of promise with Madison. Jess just knew it.
Whereas the only thing Jess had in her future was her clinic appointment later in the week. She stuffed her notebook back in her bag with a grimace. Yet another round of pointless workouts and being rapped on the knuckles for not sticking to the prescribed physical diet.
Oh. Fucking. Joy.
At least she’d see Jayne there. Maybe she could find out more about the yummy professor. Starting with where the hell he was hiding.
* * * * *
“You!”
Jess froze, her hand stuck on the door handle of the treatment room.
It was no wonder she hadn’t seen Van around campus. Her initial jolt of excitement faded fast at seeing him again, ice replacing the warmth that had pulsed through her veins. Replaced by the first twinge of humiliation. And anger. He should have stayed in his secret little hidey-hole, but like a worm crawling out of the woodwork, Van showed up in the worst possible place. He was the shiny new toy the physio staff had been talking about. He was the physiotherapist they’d been pushing Jess to see.
All of the tumblers clicked into place as Jess figured out where she’d seen Van before. The thumbnail photo at the top of his introduction letter, the one she’d thrown in the trash four weeks ago. Van, AKA Vance Sheffield. She and Tash had joked about licking his smarmy smile right off his face.
Her gaze flicked to the real deal, in full living color. His photograph did him no justice. No wonder she’d missed it.
Which didn’t make Jess feel any better.
In fact she felt a hundred times worse when she realized Van must have known who she was. She pressed a fist against the lurch and roll of her stomach. He had to have read her file.
“You knew! Didn’t you?”
Anger rose in a wave of ice, splashing over Jess like a cold sweat as she advanced on him. Van said nothing. Just watched her with a guarded expression. Arrogant prick. Silence wasn’t going to let him off the hook. One tiny smirk and she’d clock him.
“Well? Did you?” Her voice grew harder. “Did you know who I was when you came to my party? When you fucked me?”
Van’s head snapped up and he glanced around the hallway.
“Keep it down,” he hissed, hauling Jess into the room and snicking the door shut.
She ripped her arm free of his hold.
“Just answer the question!” Jess let loose with her anger, holding nothing back. Fuck it. She’d liked him. Really liked him.
Van backed off to stand at the other end of the room, giving her space.
“I didn’t intend for it to happen,” he said, raking his fingers through his hair.
“I’ll bet.” Sarcasm dripped in great steaming globules. “Yeah, I heard you protest real loud when you took me to bed.”
“You wouldn’t let me say anything,” Van threw back. “I tried to tell you. Several times, in fact.”
“I only covered your mouth with my hand. I didn’t staple it shut,” Jess said scathingly. “Although now I wish I had.”
They shared a look. Van wiped at his mouth and she knew neither of them had forgotten anything about that night. It had been a wicked, wonderful thing.
“Of course I didn’t say anything.” Van’s voice softened as he came closer. “You’re beautiful. And I wanted you.” He stopped just shy of touching her, hands outspread. “You wanted me too.”
Jess sniffed. “I really don’t remember.” She hoped he’d mistake the heat staining her cheeks as embarrassment and not what it really was. Pure unadulterated lust. Even after knowing who he was and what he’d done, there was something about Van she found hard to resist.
The air around her shifted and Jess knew he’d moved closer still. Fire crept from her face, down suddenly aching nipples, curling low in her stomach. She kept her eyes on the floor, determined not to look up.
“Want me to remind you?” His voice was low and purring and Jess felt herself melting into it. She could see his mouth forming those words in her mind, the smolder in his eyes. Total invitation.
She swallowed with difficulty, trying to hold on to her anger. Everyone knew anger drove other hormones. And she was so damn angry right now, all she wanted was to shove Van to the floor and fuck his brains out. Violently.
“I didn’t think so.” He moved away with a dry chuckle.
His retreat allowed Jess the room she needed to clear her head. She leaned back against the door, looking across at him. He wore blue jeans and a fitted business shirt all buttoned up, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Hard muscled thighs clung to the outline of his pants. Not stretchy pants like other therapists wore. No. His clothes were designed to show off every hard ridge of muscle.
Damn him.
Van so didn’t deserve to register on her hotness meter. But then, he must’ve known she was coming today. He’d worn these for her?
Anger sparked back to life as she understood how subtly she was being played.
“So, now we have that out of the way, shall we talk about your place on my treatment program?”
Jess stiffened further as Van hammered home the final nail in his coffin. The real reason he’d come after her at the party. Never mind the fact it was her who had latched onto him. He would have come for her. They both knew it.
Anger bubbled out of the well of hate that lay deep inside her, the seething heat of it spilling up through her gut, spreading out through her chest. Jess crossed her arms to hold it all in.
“Surely you don’t think I’m going near your program now?” She stared down both barrels at him. Cool and calm topped screaming banshee any day. Jess had learned that the hard way. “You’d be going against your oath. Sleeping with a patient?”
“You’re not a patient.” Van’s mouth twitched, adding a splash of fuel to the slow-burning fire in her stomach. “I don’t take on patients. I train the staff to carry out the program.”
“So that’s how you get around this?” Jess waved her hands, indicating the room and herself. It obviously wasn’t the first time Van had taken advantage of this kind of situation.
He stared back. Not biting. But not denying her accusation either. Jess forced back the bitter taste welling in her throat. He was just like Cole. Controlled and co
ntrolling.
A keen edge of disappointment cemented her resolve. “Count me out. I won’t be part of it. Not now. Not ever.”
Van’s jaw tightened, revealing the first tic of displeasure. “Can you at least tell me why?”
“I can give you a thousand good reasons,” Jess said, dropping her hands, tired of it all. A stupid program wasn’t going to fix her leg. She was always going to have scars, a limp, aches and pains. Why couldn’t they accept that like she had? “It’s bullshit. Some special program is supposed to fix me?” She snorted. “Been there. Done that.”
She’d only agreed to meet with Vance Sheffield today because she was worried she might end back in surgery if her leg muscles continued to spasm. Jess had been lying through her teeth to the clinic staff about it getting better. Joining Van’s rehabilitation program had been her last chance. She didn’t want to miss any more of her life lying in a hospital bed. She’d lost too much already.
No way was Jess going ahead with Van’s treatment now.
Jess had dated someone from the hospital once. A nurse. Devon. He’d been all fun and flirty while he’d been pursuing her, in fact he’d been champing at the bit to take her to bed…right until the moment Jess had gotten her first twinge of pain. Fun and flirty had turned to fussing and frustration. It’d gotten so Jess hadn’t been able to separate hospital from home any more. And she needed the normality of home.
She needed to be more than just an injury.
Breath hitched in her chest. She didn’t want Van to view her as a patient. Like she was less than whole. Jess had snuck down the fire escape and gone to his bed because she’d needed an outlet. To have fun. Because that was better than lying in the dark angsting over her brother curtailing her living arrangements. She’d wanted to be reckless, to be just like everyone else.
Realizing Van had known all along stripped Jess of all that.
“You’ve been doing the same treatment for two years,” Van kept on and Jess scowled. He was so confident he was right. That he knew better. “There’s a lot more I can do. My program is designed for people like you. The success rate—”
“Oh, keep going, buddy. You’re saying all the right things.” Acrid resentment burned up through the back of her throat. Next he’d be selling her a used car.
At least he’d answered any lingering question Jess had about how Van saw her. He didn’t see Jess at all. Just the injury.
“Would you really cut your nose off to spite your face?” His air of reasonableness was crumbling, hints of frustration cutting through his professional, medical mask. “Why not give it a go to see if it’s good for you?”
Jess let out a short laugh. “Good for me? Oh, yes. I must do what’s good for me.”
How many times had Jess heard those words when it came to doing things she didn’t want to do. No. Van had conveniently forgotten the fact she was a woman. She sure as hell wasn’t going to hang around to be reminded of that any more.
“You’re being obtuse.” The vein in his jaw thumped under his skin.
“Using a big word doesn’t change the fact you’re not listening. I’ll do what’s best for me. And what’s best for me is not to do it.”
“You know that’s not true, Jess.” Van tried another tack, his tone softening. He even slid a nice hint of regret into his voice.
He was good.
But Jess had heard it all before. She shook her head.
“Says you. And everyone knows physiotherapists are wannabe doctors in disguise.” It was a bitchy comment and Jess wasn’t proud of it—but hey, he’d started it.
And finished it. Van threw back his head and let out a chortle of genuine laughter.
“You know nothing about me.” His gaze bit into her. “The last thing I want is someone helpless and needy, relying on my every word to tell them what to do. So try again, little girl.”
“Not so little you didn’t take up the offer to fuck me,” Jess threw back.
Van straightened, standing opposite her like a gunslinger, pulling a trigger-happy glare. She grew short of breath, her lungs constricting as his gaze heated, slipped down past her lips, flicking across her body. She guessed what he was thinking. What they were both remembering. Naked and twined around each other, skin slick with sweat…the thrust of his cock, his whispered urgings a background to her screams of pleasure…
Warmth flooded Jess’s limbs and her eyes took their own little wander down memory lane. She paused at his hips, the sexy spot where his waist dipped in, marked with twin freckles she’d wanted to lick…
“Obviously, that was a mistake,” Van said.
Jess’s attention snapped back to his cold, hard stare. Her cheeks heated but she refused to drop her eyes.
“Well, at least you’re being honest.” She was proud of how icy and remote her voice sounded.
“Shit. Sorry.” Van tugged at his hair, his expression turning remorseful. He leaned against the desk, looking up through his lashes at her. “I’ll level with you. Okay? I just want you to do the program. You’re sexy and independent. Do you really want to rely on your brother for the rest of your life? I want to help you so you can ultimately help yourself.”
Jess blew out a breath as he changed tack again. Nice. Sexy. Honest. Conniving. She was getting whiplash trying to keep up.
“Of course you do.” She didn’t bother hiding her sarcasm. “You’re a consulting physiotherapist. That’s what you do.”
Especially when he was a hot, sexy therapist who’d stacked the cards in his favor. Would she have slept with Van if she’d known what he was? No…maybe… At the end of the day, it didn’t matter because he hadn’t bothered to find out.
“Last chance Jess.” He dropped his hands to his sides. “You either come on the program or you’ll miss out.”
Jess didn’t need to think it over. “I’ll give it a miss.”
“Shame.” Van dipped his head. “I honestly think with your particular injury we’d have seen some real improvement in your knee.”
“The miracle cure?” This time Jess did scoff, even as a flicker of hope flared to life. She hated herself for wanting to believe in him. She hated Van for pretending full recovery was obtainable. “I don’t care about my stupid injury. My mother died. I lived. I don’t have to be perfect.”
Van’s face fell. “You know that’s not what I mean. It’s about you having the best life you—”
“So why try to fix me.” Jess clenched her hands at her sides. “I’m fine as I am. Having the best life.”
“That’s a ridiculous argument and you know it. I accepted you the other night. It wasn’t your injury making me lay down with you, kissing you, licking at your pussy.” He took a step forward with each remembered action until he stood in front of her. “When I made you come with my fingers. When I came inside you—”
“Stop it.” Jess jerked back, anger warring with lust, the need to touch tempered with the urge to slap him. “You don’t need to remind me. It was a mistake. Remember?”
Her emotions rolled hot and cold, fire and chilling ice. She had to get out of here. Jess straightened her spine and opened the door.
“Jess?”
“Stay out of my business.” She turned back for her final parting shot. “And stay the fuck out of my medical file.”
Spoiled. Brat.
Narcissistic. She-devil.
Sexy. Little. Minx.
Fuck. The chant went around and around in Van’s head as he waited for his anger—and his hard-on—to abate.
She’d gotten the better of him. A second longer and he would have claimed that smart-ass mouth of hers, pushed her up against the door and had her. Fuck. She’d been thinking it too. In between the times when she’d wanted to punch his lights out.
Van slumped against the nearest table. He’d known it was going to be hard to get Jess on board, but he’d at leas
t thought she might be reasonable. His program was groundbreaking. It helped people exactly like Jess to get the most out of things.
Being with her had been a mistake. The best kind of mistake. But it had also ruined any chance of getting Jess on his program.
Van loosened a sigh. Somehow he doubted he would have swayed her, no matter what had happened. Jess was stubborn. And she refused to acknowledge what she might be giving up.
But then, Van knew firsthand people didn’t always do what was best for them. They gave up. Wasn’t that why he’d been forced to drop out of medical school? Wasn’t that why he’d specialized in injury rehabilitation instead of diseases?
Numbness crept in to claim his chest and Van rubbed at it restlessly.
His brother’s misdiagnosis five years ago had been a horrible mistake. But the tragedy hadn’t been Ryan’s untimely death. Or even the fact Van had left medical school to come home and look after him. The tragedy had been how his parents had dealt with it. They’d taken Ryan’s death as if it were the end of their own lives. His father had sunk into a depression he’d never climbed out of. He’d turned his back on his marriage, his remaining son…his life.
When he died too, the loss had been the final straw for Van’s mother. Once confident and determined, she’d gotten so she couldn’t do anything without checking with Van first. He’d stayed nearby, unable to go back to med school. Stuck.
The local physiotherapy school had been a good alternative and Van had quickly moved into the top spot in his class. His affinity for people and his background in medical knowledge opened a lot of doors. Van had specialized in accident injuries, meaning he stayed well away from the medical wards. He worked with people who had a chance to get better, who generally worked hard to achieve it.
Not for a Moment: One Moment, Book 3 Page 6