“Didn’t he recognize the name of his therapist when you introduced yourself earlier?”
“I didn’t write Margaret O’Fallon, LCSW. Just Maggie and my number.”
Kenzie grinned, revealing a huge white smile. “You little tramp. I love it. If this guy is anything close to as hot as Natalie described him, send him to another therapist and go out with him. Your dry spell is making me itch.”
Maggie rolled her eyes and leaned over to retrieve her iced tea. “You and me both.”
After another twenty minutes of catching up on local gossip—which her BFF was the best at—Maggie dragged herself to her Lexus and drove to her Cape-style house on the edge of Rocky Harbor. She didn’t have the million-dollar view of the water her parents had, but she enjoyed the quiet of the woods behind her and the marshland to her left.
Local wildlife often made their way to her backyard, grazing on her garden and making Sweetie Pie, her little white Shih Tzu, go crazy, and Maggie wouldn’t trade it for the world. She had her own little slice of heaven right here in the outskirts of town.
Maggie pulled into her driveway and before she got completely out of the car, heard tiny yips coming from the house. She looked up into the bay window to see Sweetie Pie perched on top of the couch, barking excitedly.
“I’m coming, Sweetie. Give me a sec.” Maggie grabbed her bag and let herself into the house, reaching down to scoop up the little pooch in her free hand. “Did my baby girl miss her mama? Yes she did. Yes she did.” Maggie nuzzled her dog, gave her a kiss, and let Sweetie outside to do her business.
Leaving the front door open so Sweetie could come back inside when she was ready, Maggie slipped out of her heels and began taking off her jewelry as she headed down the hall to her bedroom. She sat down on the mattress, admiring the four-poster bed and thinking back to the last time it had hosted anything besides sleep.
Which made her thoughts roam to her earlier encounter with Tall, Dark, and Handsome. Of all her damned luck. She finally took a risk and was assertive with a man, only to have him be on the no-no list. Granted, she could refer him to a new therapist. However, refusing to treat a patient because you wanted to have sweaty sex with him was probably as unethical as sleeping with a patient.
Stripping off her skirt and blouse and tossing them in her dry-cleaning pile, Maggie stepped into her bathroom and turned on the faucet to the whirlpool tub. She wrapped herself in her purple, silk robe and went to check on Sweetie Pie while the bath filled.
“Are you hungry?” Maggie called outside and the white fluff ball came running in. She’d run off once last summer and was nearly accosted by a fox. Thankfully Maggie had been out gardening and rescued the dog from being on the dinner menu. Ever since then, Sweetie had avoided the woods unless Maggie was right next to her.
She filled the doggie dish with a mixture of canned and dry food, poured herself a glass of white wine, made a plate of grapes and crackers, slid her cell in her robe pocket so she could check her emails, and made her way back to the bathroom. After removing her robe and setting her dinner by the tub, Maggie dipped one foot in, then the other.
“Perfect.” She slid deep, resting her head against the cushioned pillow. When she remodeled the house, a corner whirlpool tub was on the top of her wish list. She picked her leg up out of the water, pressing the button to turn on the jets with her big toe. “Even more perfect.” The pulsating water on her lower back massaged and loosened the stress of the day.
Who was she kidding? The day had only been stressful because she’d finally found a man who stirred her on the inside. And she couldn’t have him. She’d had her share of boyfriends over the years, men who were steady and held regular jobs. A banker, a financial analyst, a teacher. Men who had regular schedules and could be counted on to be home for dinner every night. Not like her parents’ relationship for the past fifteen years.
Even though those were qualities she wanted and needed in a relationship, she’d never lived with a man or had dinner with a boyfriend every night.
Maggie scooted up in the tub, turned off the jets, and picked up her wine. The cool liquid only made her hotter for the sexy pilot with anger issues. Did she believe he was a victim of circumstance? Maybe. Only time would tell. She’d met her share of players, of men who told her what she wanted to hear, whether it be in her personal or professional life, and her bullshit meter had a pretty good track record.
Her cell phone rang, making her jump and spill some of her wine in the tub. Placing her glass down on the wide rim—built for the soul purpose of housing candles, wine, and food—she retrieved her phone from her robe, eyeing the unfamiliar number.
“Hello?”
“Hello.”
Maggie shivered at the deep tenor. “Who is this?” she asked, not wanting to admit she’d recognize that voice blindfolded and…naked.
“Ouch. I guess I didn’t leave a lasting impression on you if you don’t recognize my voice.”
“You only said one word. How am I supposed to figure it out from Hello?”
“You recognize me now?” Graham’s voice sounding deeper, softer. Seductive.
“Maybe.” She grinned and twirled one of the curls that came loose from her bun.
“I’m that guy you met in the coffee shop this morning. The one you gave your number to and offered to show around town.”
“Yes, I think I remember now.” She reached for her wine with her free hand and accidentally knocked the plate of grapes and crackers in the tub. Muffling a curse, she picked up the floating food and tossed it on the plate, making a mess of water and bubbles and sodden Wheat Thins.
“Are you in the bathtub?”
“Uh, nope. Just watching a movie.” She stilled, careful not to make any more splashing noises.
“Are you naked?”
“Excuse me?” Maggie stood, the loud splash of water spilling over the edge of the tub giving her away, making her feel exposed. She grabbed a towel and quickly dried off.
“Sweet baby Jesus. You’re killing me.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Riley, but we need to end this call. As I said in the office this morning—”
“I didn’t call Ms. O’Fallon and this isn’t Mr. Riley. I called the beautiful redhead who stole my breath in a coffee shop this morning. The one who left a trail of cherry vanilla that I can’t stop smelling. The one with soft, pale skin that reddens when she’s embarrassed. The Maggie who offered to show me around town.”
“I…how do you know my skin is soft?” Seriously? Why did I just say that?
“You’re not going back on your word, Maggie-from-the-coffee-shop. I have your phone number on my cup and I intend to use it. Often.”
“Is that a threat?”
“Not a bad one. Think of it as a wonderful promise.”
“You still have that cup?”
“Of course I do.”
“Why didn’t you just put my number in your phone?” Stupid, stupid, stupid! He’s sidetracking you!
“I’ll meet you at the coffee shop at nine Saturday morning. I have a few places I want to see, but I’ll gladly go wherever you want to take me. Dress comfortable.”
“What? No. I don’t—”
“Good night, Maggie. I’ll see you in two days.” He hung up before she could swear at him. The nerve! As if she’d go out with him, the pompous, arrogant, sexy pilot.
No, she’d call him back and cancel this ridiculous ploy of his to get into her pants. Maggie stormed from the bathroom and into her room, stripping off the towel and sliding into a pair of shorts and a tank top. How dare he power play the situation? She told him in her office, their relationship was strictly professional. There was no way she’d be his tour guide or his date or…anything.
Besides, she’d see him before Saturday. They had a Friday appointment. She’d set him straight. Under no circumstances would she date a patient.
Not a single one.
***
“Your eleven o’clock is here.” Tiffany beamed from
the doorway, her eyes wide with excitement.
“Send him in.” Maggie’s voice wobbled. She stood, straightening her skirt, and tugged at her purple camisole, making sure her girls were nicely covered. Normally she dressed more casual on Fridays, but she needed to keep her professional appearance up, and decided on a charcoal pencil skirt and black blouse. The top three buttons were not meant to be used and while Mackenzie would have worn it with only a bra revealing her cleavage, Maggie needed the extra armor.
If she had one weakness, it was accessories. Though her clothes were simple in color and lines, she’d grown attached to shoes, jewelry, and handbags growing up in a wealthy home. Her dad was away for months at a time, and always returned with gifts for her and her mother and while she preferred to have her father than the gifts, the girly-girl in her couldn’t refuse the Belgium chocolates, French wines, and sparkly gems.
Maggie rolled her shoulders back and moved her feet—clad in gorgeous purple peep-toe pumps with a black lace overlay—toward the door to greet her next patient.
“Dr. O’Fallon. Nice to see you again.” Graham held out his hand.
“It’s just Ms. O’Fallon.” Maggie looked down at his long, strong fingers and reluctantly reached out, nervous about the jolt she knew would come with the contact. He held her only a second longer than necessary, and she felt his lingering touch down to her Jimmy Choo’s. She prayed he wouldn’t bring up their phone conversation from the other night.
“Mr. Riley. Please, have a seat.” She motioned toward the couch. He gave her a wicked smile before following her gesture and turning. She took a moment to appreciate his backside. He had the most perfect butt. Firm, round, and filling out his warn jeans like candy fills a piñata. Sweet and hard and ready to be broken into. His navy blue shirt molded to his wide shoulders and lean torso perfectly, making Maggie wonder what it would feel like to run her hands down his back and chest.
“Everything okay?” Graham asked once he was situated on the couch, the corner of his mouth turned up in a knowing smirk. He leaned back and crossed his leg, resting his right ankle on his left knee, and patted the space next to him. “Have a seat.”
Maggie quirked an eyebrow and sat in her usual chair across from the couch. She placed her notepad in her lap, folded her hands, and put on her professional smile. “So how are you doing since our last visit, Mr. Riley?”
“Wonderful, Doc. Who doesn’t love being in Maine in June? The weather is perfect. My family is great. And the people I’ve met since I’ve been in town have been very…welcoming.”
Ignoring his taunt, Maggie continued. “Do you miss flying?”
Graham’s smile dropped and he turned to look out the window. “Yeah. I do.”
“Tell me, why did you become a pilot?”
“You really want to know?” That adorable boyish smile turned to her, as did his laughing, steel grey eyes. “I should probably lie down for this session, huh?” Graham stretched his legs on the couch, rested his head against the armrest, and closed his eyes. “It pretty much started when Blake joined us.”
“Blake? Is he one of your brothers?”
“Yeah. We’re all pretty close in age. Luke and I are only two years apart and were both adopted the same year. I was twelve. He was ten. Rachael came around a few years later, then Colton and Blake. We were all teenagers then, except Blake. Just hitting puberty and trying to hang with the big boys.” Graham opened one eye and nodded toward the chair next to her. “Mind tossing me that pillow?”
She picked it up and threw it at him. He caught it and nestled it under his head, smiling mischievously.
“Four teenage boys in the same house? Your mother must be a saint.”
He crossed his feet at his ankles and threaded his hands together, resting them against his six-pack abs. She could see the definition in his stomach as he lay flat, his shirt molding to his body. Maggie squeezed her thighs together, her Kegel muscles hard at work.
“Mom and Dad didn’t have cable, but we had a VCR in the basement, and four movies. Top Gun was our favorite. We watched it at least once a week. Once a day for the first month Dad introduced it to us. Immediately we filled our roles. Colton has always had an edge to him, probably why the Marines work so well for him, so it was a no brainer that he’d take on the role of Iceman. Luke has always been a giant, but was kinda scrawny back then, and he never complained much, so he had the role of Slider, Iceman’s sidekick. Blake, being the youngest and kind of a meathead, was donned Goose.”
“And you got to be Maverick.”
Graham opened his eyes. “Impressive. You know the movie.”
“What girl hasn’t watched the volleyball scene? It’s a classic.”
“I’d be more than happy to reenact it any time.”
“You’d need your brothers’ help for that.” Maggie blushed, ashamed at herself for flirting during a session.
“If that’s what it takes, Doc, I can rouse up a game.”
“No, thank you. Let’s get back to why you wanted to be a pilot.”
“The role of Maverick seemed to suit me pretty well. I started looking into the Air Force, but that didn’t interest me too much. I just wanted to fly, not fight. So my dad convinced my parole officer—”
“Parole officer?”
“Sorry, Doc. Sealed file. It will take a lot of…convincing to open that one.” He moved his hands behind his head, an evil grin on his face. “As I was saying, my dad hooked me up with community service hours at a nearby private airport. Started out by washing down the planes, then learned to play around with the engines. Bill, one of the veteran pilots who flew tourists around, brought me up one day and that was it. I knew what I wanted to do for the rest of my life.”
“Fly tourists?”
Graham unfolded his legs and sat up. “No, just fly. I took lessons, paid for flight school, and got a job flying advertisements over the beach during the summer.” His grey eyes danced with excitement. “When you’re in the air you don’t have to deal with the crap littering the streets and filling the television or Internet. It’s just you and the sky. You control how fast, where you want to go, when you want to dip, turn, or fly smooth. When there’s turbulence in the air, you gotta think quick and figure out to accelerate or decelerate, how to move out of the pocket. It’s pretty damn euphoric.”
“Why didn’t you join the Air Force? Why fly commercial air?”
The glow left Graham’s eyes and he ran his hands through his hair and shrugged. “Money. You don’t make much flying a banner at your tail.”
“Do you like your job?”
Graham stood and shoved his hands in his pocket. He made his way to the window and looked out, a faraway expression on his face.
“I don’t not like it. I can’t imagine myself sitting in an office every day. Or driving around city streets and dealing with traffic and lights.”
“I’m assuming you drive? And when you do, you obey basic traffic laws?” she teased.
“I’m a rule follower, Doc. Always have been. Well, most of the time.” He winked.
Oh lordy. Her cheeks warmed and she lowered her head to her pad. Her empty pad. So engrossed in learning about Graham Riley that she hadn’t written anything down.
“Tell me more about that day. The day the passenger angered you—”
As quick as the shadow appeared on his face, it went away. “And here I thought you wanted to get to know me.”
“I do. I want to know what lead to the outburst at the airport.”
“Doc, do you have a family?” Graham took the chair next to her, the one no one ever sat in—
it was simply there to balance out the room—and leaned into her personal space.
“This isn’t about me, Mr. Riley.”
“I’ll assume you have someone you care about in your life. A mom, dad, brother, sister. Friend. Someone who you would never want to see get hurt. Can you honestly tell me that if they were threatened, knocked down on their ass by a drunk man twice their si
ze, you wouldn’t want someone to step in and defend them?”
She watched him study her face, working hard to remain impassive and not reveal how she really felt, that she believed him and supported him. Still, she needed to file a professional report based on fact, not feeling.
“And this flight attendant was family?”
Graham sat back, keeping his focus on her. A man who didn’t avoid eye contact was usually honest. “Family isn’t determined by blood. She is a hard worker. A grandmother supporting her daughter and grandchildren.”
“And so you took the situation a little too personally? Maybe overreacted?” She didn’t believe what she said, but needed to provoke him, to read his expression.
He surprised her by smiling. “I didn’t overreact. I never do. Overreacting can hurt someone. Kill someone. Being a pilot means you have to read the situation, take everything into consideration and weigh out all the options before reacting. Granted, sometimes all that is done within seconds. We’re trained for that.”
“But you weren’t flying a plane. You were punching a human being.”
“And saving a life.”
“Was her life truly threatened at that point, or more so her dignity?”
“Is there a difference?”
The facetious tone didn’t hide the subtle traces of the sensitive man hidden beneath the layers of alluring muscle and good looks. His eyes spoke of honesty and decency. His mannerisms, unless he was an incredibly good actor, reflected a softer side in the overly confident man. The way he softened when he talked about his family, and how protective he was of his flight attendant, revealed a level of kindness that did funky things to her insides. Things she didn’t want to feel.
Maggie reluctantly eyed the clock on the wall. Saved by the bell. “Well, it looks like our time is up for today, Mr. Riley.” She stood and flipped her notebook closed so he couldn’t see her lack of notes.
“Do I have any homework? Doctor’s orders to go for walks on the beach, take cleansing breaths and meditate or something?”
Staying Grounded (A Rocky Harbor Novel Book 1) Page 4