GuardMyBody

by S. C. Wynne

  “People do that for the others around them.” He surprised me by reaching over and patting my back. The feel of his firm hand through my shirt sent tremors down my spine. Good shivers, little tingly sensations that settled warmly in my groin.

  “I’ll have to remember what a good actor he is next time he tells me he can’t afford to give me a raise,” I said, straightening my spine so that his hand fell away. I wasn’t looking for comfort.

  “Everyone handles grief differently.” He didn’t seem to notice my subtle rebuff.

  I snuck a peek at Michael under my brows. His expression was inscrutable as he watched Fredrick. Was this all an act? Had he and Fredrick planned this ambush?

  Michael focused on his meal and I pretended to concentrate on mine. I’d promised Fredrick I’d stay for dinner and I’d done my best. As soon as dessert was over, I was out of there. I didn’t feel like hanging around and possibly being tag-teamed.

  “I wouldn’t try to set you up like this.” He was watching me curiously. “I just came to have dinner, that’s the God’s honest truth.”

  He seemed sincere for what it was worth. “It wouldn’t have the desired result, I assure you.”

  “I’ve got plenty of patients and I don’t believe in forcing someone into therapy,” he said.

  “Good. I’m not easily forced.”

  “I will say this though, I’m kind of glad I came tonight.” His voice was like velvet.

  “Why’s that?” I asked somewhat suspiciously.

  His cheeks seemed flushed as he answered. “I’m glad to have met you. You probably noticed me staring at you outside.” It was more of a statement than anything.

  “Not particularly,” I lied. I could only hope he hadn’t noticed I’d practically tried to flee the party just so I didn’t have to acknowledge the hard-on he’d almost given me.

  “This is going to be coming out of the blue, but would you want to grab a drink next week?”

  Yes, I’d say that was a little out of the blue. But it was difficult to ignore the little bolt of pleasure that rolled through my body at the idea of seeing him again. Although I wasn’t sure how to respond, because while I thought he was ridiculously attractive, I wasn’t looking to meet anyone. “Drinks. With you?”

  He nodded, grinning confidently.

  I had to admit he was the first man I’d found attractive since Rory. But I was a basket case, I knew it and anyone who tried to get to know me was going to know it pretty quickly. Especially someone trained to sit down with nutcases.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “You seem like a nice guy.” He shrugged. “I work a lot and it’s not always easy meeting people. Isn’t this why single people go to parties?”

  “I’m not sure.” I was uncomfortable at the idea of pursuing whatever this might be. I liked him physically, and he had a good sense of humor which was one of the most attractive things in a guy for me. Rory had been funny. He’d made me laugh so hard at the little things. He’d made life funny and bearable. Rory. God, I missed him so much.

  Michael seemed to be watching all the emotions skittering across my face. “Please don’t shoot me down. I’m very sensitive and I don’t want to go home and cry in my bath tonight.” He smiled confidently but there was a hint of insecurity in his gaze.

  “You don’t mean get together as doctor/patient, right?” I asked suspiciously.

  “I wouldn’t invite a patient out for drinks.” He laughed.

  “Yeah, I guess that would be unprofessional as hell.” I wasn’t sure what to do. I did find it a little endearing he was afraid I would reject him. I was tempted. I had an inkling I would like him even more if I spent time with him. Was that what I wanted though?

  “For some reason Fredrick really wants us to get to know each other, so I figure why not?” he said.

  “I thought it was obvious he wants us to get together so you can fix me. Did you not get that?”

  He grinned. “No, I got it.”

  “I don’t want to be psychoanalyzed by you.”

  “You’ve made that point beautifully.”

  “There are plenty of other nice guys here, why me?” I meant that too. Why me out of all the other people here? Did he feel the weird pull I was feeling toward him? Was this only physical for him? I felt guilty and confused but also incredibly tempted.

  “You’re a suspicious fellow. I didn’t expect so many questions to a simple request.”

  “Indulge me.” I wasn’t the most trusting of people, and I wanted to be sure this drinks thing wasn’t just so he could report back to Fredrick about me.

  “Well, let’s see, this is awkward but you did ask.” The vulnerability I’d seen earlier was back. “You’re a good-looking guy. I find you appealing and I’d like to explore that.”

  “You find me appealing and you want to explore that?” I smiled.

  “Am I beating around the bush too much?” he asked. “I’d love to get to know you better over drinks. Who knows why anyone chooses one person over another? For me it’s always cut and dried. There has to be some sort of chemistry. I immediately found you physically attractive but when we started talking I liked how your brain worked. You’re witty and intelligent. So I am excited to see where getting closer would take us. I’m praying it eventually leads us to sex. Hot, dirty, extended, long nights of sweaty sex.”

  I squirmed in my seat and from the temperature of my cheeks knew I was probably bright red. “Holy crap, you’re unusually blunt.”

  “That’s what my patients say.”

  “I’m not your patient and I’m never going to be.”

  “Good. Because like I said, I’d like to do things with you I couldn’t do with a patient.”

  That heat returned to my cheeks and groin. “Wow.” Was I ready for that? Was I prepared for a sexual encounter? God, my body seemed to think so. But was I emotionally able to picture having sex with another person other than Rory? I wanted to be brutally honest with myself about what this was. I hadn’t been with a guy since Rory died. I hadn’t wanted to until now. And the guilt I was feeling about lusting after this beautiful man in front of me was painful. Would it be worth it? Would it make me feel distant from Rory? I didn’t want that. Nothing would be okay if it tore me away from my memories of Rory.

  “I think we would be good together,” he said gently. “I do.”

  “I appreciate your honesty.” I released a huge sigh and my body began to relax. I liked knowing where I stood with him at least. It took a lot of the nervous guesswork out of this for me. Now the only worry was if could I handle being up close to someone new? Could I take it or would I shatter into a million pieces and disappear forever?

  “Drinks next week?” he asked, watching me curiously.

  I found myself answering without the usual dismay that accepting invitations filled me with. There was a tiny spark of excitement at seeing him again. “Sure, what do I have to lose?”

  I’d already lost it all.

  * * * * *

  When I picked Fredrick up Monday he was in a chipper mood. He settled himself happily in the back, folding his hands on his pile of folders. He looked so proud of himself. “I hear you’re having drinks with Michael.”

  “Shouldn’t that information be private? Doctor-patient something or other?” I asked.

  “We both know you’re not seeing him as a patient.”

  “But you are.” I watched in the mirror as surprise rippled through his gaze.

  “He told me as a friend.” He sniffed. “Apparently he likes you.”

  “About that—I thought you weren’t going to pull any funny business and try setting me up?”

  “I forgot.”

  “Yeah, right. I guess you forgot to tell me you were seeing a shrink too?” I kept my eyes on the road and allowed him some time to answer.

  “I didn’t think it was important. You were suffering enough. You didn’t need to hear my problems.”

  “You should have told me,” I said gruffly. “Y
ou’ve been there for me, and I appreciate it. I should have been there more for you.”

  “Oh my dear boy, don’t go all soft on me. I didn’t keep you company all those hours just for you.” He stared down at his hands. “Being around you helped me still feel close to Rory. I’m no saint.”

  “Don’t worry. I wasn’t going to nominate you for canonization,” I said. He was such a liar. I knew there was truth to what he said about being near me kept Rory alive for him. But he’d put in too many hours for it to only be that. He’d given me a job when I wasn’t a good risk, and taken my drunken, self-pitying phone calls at three in the morning. I’d been a wreck and far from pleasant to deal with. He might not want to admit it, but he had a heart.

  “I’m no Joan of Arc,” he said, riffling through his papers.

  “Hmm.”

  “Are you going out Friday?”

  “Nope, the only night he had free was tonight,” I said.

  “Monday night?” He frowned.

  “Does he know about me and Rory?”

  He put the paper he was studying down. “I didn’t tell him any details about your relationship with Rory. But no doubt he put it together. It’s not a big leap.”

  “True.”

  “I didn’t go there to talk about you. I went to whine about myself. So fear not, he doesn’t know the depths of your debauchery.”

  “Good. I like that to unfold naturally to my new friends,” I said.

  The day seemed to drag more than usual. It occurred to me that maybe it was because I was actually looking forward to seeing Michael tonight. I hadn’t expected that and was surprised by the realization. He was intelligent and funny and I had to admit I enjoyed his easygoing nature. But as luck would have it, Fredrick’s cases were long and tedious and we were stuck at the courthouse until four thirty. I dropped Fredrick off and raced back to my place to shower. I was supposed to meet Michael at six and I was cutting it close.

  I arrived at the martini bar Michael had suggested a little after six. I was late and frazzled and worried this had been a horrible idea. He was waiting for me in the lobby, messing around with his phone. He didn’t notice me walk in, so I had time to handle the rush of excitement that jolted through me at seeing him. My legs felt wobbly and I was breathless at the sight of him, but I tried to settle myself. I was a grown man after all. He was wearing a light-green silk shirt that hugged his broad shoulders and a lock of curly hair fell over his forehead. He had a boyish air about him that belayed his age. He looked up and his dark-brown gaze locked with mine. The smile that split his face was amazing and my heart warmed inexplicably.

  “I was afraid you were going to stand me up,” he said as he rose. “Shall we sit in the bar?”

  “I thought this place was only a bar.”

  His warm hand cupped my elbow and I tried to ignore the twittering in my stomach. “No, they serve food too.”

  I’m pretty sure I didn’t absorb his words. I was ridiculously nervous and hyper-aware of his expensive cologne and how his jeans clung to his thighs and rear.

  We took a window seat and the table was so small our legs brushed easily. That didn’t help my pulse any. The pressing warmth of his firm muscles touching mine made my crotch hard. The lighting was intimate and the place had a sexy and expensive vibe, with leather seats and golden-brown faux-painted walls with murals of Italy. I decided on a caramel appletini and Michael got a blueberry martini.

  “To taking chances,” Michael said as we clinked our glasses.

  “We’re real thrill-seekers, sitting down together to have drinks.” I smiled. Little did he realize my sarcasm hid what a risk this was for me. This was a monumental moment, to be sitting here with him, contemplating caring in any way about another man besides Rory.

  “It’s Monday,” he said. “Most people go out on Friday or Saturday, but rebels like us, we go on a Monday.”

  The sweet and tangy beverage slipped easily down my nervous throat, warming my stomach. “Fredrick was all a-twitter when he found out we were getting together,” I said. His full lips parted in a smile and I tore my gaze away from his mouth with some difficulty. I struggled against the fantasy of kissing him when I stared too long.

  “I know. He called me and tried to pump me for information.”

  I looked down at my hand, nervously clutching the stem of my glass. “I know you can’t tell me anything specific. But he’s doing okay, right?”

  Michael hesitated and then spoke slowly. “He’ll be fine.”

  “That’s good.”

  “What about you?” There was the tiniest line between his brows.

  “I’m better than I used to be.” I shrugged. “I’m not trying to drink myself to death anymore.”

  “And here I am buying you a martini.” He frowned. “Do you have a drinking problem?”

  I shook my head. “No. It wasn’t that I couldn’t stop drinking before. I didn’t want to be sober. Ever. It hurt too much.”

  “But you’re not doing that anymore?”

  “No, I’m not. Don’t worry. You’re not undoing my twelve-step anything. I drank until I was unconscious for one sole purpose. I was trying to not feel anything. But it didn’t work and I don’t do that anymore.”

  He nodded in understanding. “Good, I’m glad you have it under control. It never does help. You just wake up with the same problems but now you have a hangover.”

  “Bingo.” I decided to just ask him how much he knew instead of trying to guess. “Fredrick said he didn’t give you any details about Rory and me.”

  “Not really. He came to me to deal with his depression and through the course of talking about that he shared snippets of Rory and you. Of course, I didn’t know it was you at the time.” His eyes were empathetic. “I know that Rory died and that Fredrick was struggling with that.”

  “I see.”

  “Do you mind if I ask you how Rory died?”

  I wasn’t really surprised, but of course I minded. I didn’t want to think about it, let alone talk about it.

  “Didn’t Fredrick tell you?”

  “No. He was vague on details.”

  I swallowed. It made sense that he’d want to know exactly what happened. But I didn’t relish reliving it.

  “Have you talked to a therapist at all about your loss?” he asked.

  “God, I hate that term. It sounds like I lost a sock in the dryer or something,” I snapped. I shouldn’t blame him. No one knew how to approach death comfortably. That included me.

  “How would you prefer I put it?”

  I fiddled with my cocktail napkin nervously. “And that sounds exactly like something a therapist would say.”

  He cocked his head. “You don’t have to give me a hard time. I didn’t bring the topic of Rory up, you did.”

  “You certainly ran with it,” I said. I knew I was acting like a prick but I was confused. I was irritated by my attraction to him and conflicted by my sadness at not having Rory still with me. I wouldn’t be sitting with him, getting a hard-on if Rory was still alive. But he wasn’t and this sexy man who seemed attracted to me was.

  “I apologize. I didn’t realize it would be so difficult for you to talk about.”

  “It is.”

  “Sorry. I just thought since we’re trying to get to know each other, that was a pretty significant event in your life.” He shrugged. “But that’s fine.”

  I bit my lip, watching him. I knew there was nothing strange about wanting to know the details, so I relented. “He got shot.”

  Michael’s eyes widened in horror. “Jesus.”

  I took a long pull off my drink and continued grudgingly. “We were working as private detectives at the time. It shouldn’t have happened.”

  “No. Of course not,” he said.

  “Well, I mean I should have been in front. I should have been the one killed.” It pleased me to say it out loud finally. I’d held it in for so long it was a wonderful relief to send those shameful words into the universe. Rory s
hould be alive and I should be six feet under instead.

  His brows drew together. “That sounds like you’re harboring guilt.”

  That made it sound so civilized and neat. Harboring guilt. No, Doc. More like consumed and ravaged by guilt. That might be more accurate. “Fuck, yeah,” I said.

  “Did you make him go first or tell him to go first?”

  I shook my head. “No, I didn’t. But he was so impulsive I always tried to get ahead of him. He wasn’t careful enough.”

  “But you didn’t get ahead of him that day?” he asked softly.

  “No,” I said bitterly. “I took a bullet to my shoulder, but he’s dead and I’m stuck among the living without him.”

  “God, that’s horrible. I’m sorry for what happened to Rory. But I’m…glad you’re alive.”

  “Well, that makes one of us.”

  “Saying things like that can get you in trouble,” he said. “Have you had suicidal thoughts, Andrew?”

  I smiled grimly. “Wow. You just kicked into full doctor mode right before my eyes.”

  His expression was concerned but he looked a little embarrassed. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

  I released a big sigh and slumped slightly. “I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought of killing myself a thousand times over the past year. But I’m still here.”

  “And you feel stronger? You’re doing okay now?” he asked. The warmth of his gaze seemed to indicate he did care.

  “It’ll never be okay that Rory’s gone.”

  “No, of course not, but you don’t want to hurt yourself anymore, right?” he asked.

  Did I? I didn’t feel like it today. That was a good sign, I suppose. “Not at the moment,” I said gruffly.

  “Acceptance doesn’t mean you’re all right about losing him, you know? Survivors often get that confused. It’s more a coming to terms with the fact that you’re not the one who died and you still have a life to live.”

  “Now see, that’s where you’re wrong, Doc, because when Rory died, I felt like I died too,” I said.

  He reached across the table and took my hand. It surprised me but I liked it. His grip was warm and firm and my body responded at the gentle stroke of his thumb on my skin. A flush of arousal rippled through my crotch and into my stomach as my pulse ramped up at his touch. “That’s not true. You’re here and alive and I can feel your living pulse under my fingers.”