by Desiree Holt
Linda, the office manager, greeted her when she walked in.
“I put the file for the new patient on your desk. I guess he was referred by his doctor?”
Cassie nodded. Best to let everyone think that. “I’ll give a summary report to Dr. Joseph when I’m done with him today and also have you email a copy to Sam’s doctor.”
Linda quirked an eyebrow. “Sam, is it?”
Big mouth, Cassie thought.
“Yes. I happened to meet him yesterday at Rolling in Dough. He’s up here for a few weeks and needs a therapist.” She made a show of checking her watch. “Oh wow. Look at the time. I’d better get ready for my first appointment.”
She breezed past Linda and hurried into the tiny cubicle she called her office, right off the big workout room where all her equipment was.
Castile General Clinic was owned by three doctors—Herm Joseph, Clay Hamilton, and Sophia Presnell. The two men were orthopedists, while Sophia was a general practitioner. They all had grown up in Castile and chosen to come back here a couple of years ago to open the clinic. Between the hazards of both summer and winter sports, there was plenty of need for orthopedists. Sophia provided general medicine where required and served Castile and the surrounding community. Mostly they were people who did not want to make the trek into Bar Harbor or Bangor. And the town really needed its own health care facility.
When Margie told her they were looking for a physical therapist, she took it as a positive sign and applied. Now, four months later, she had settled into a nice groove.
The first two patients of the day required only some simple, basic exercises, learning how to do them and being supervised until they could continue on their own. She was glad it was. Nothing too difficult because she couldn’t get that Escalade out of her mind. Should she ask one of the doctors, all of whom were much more familiar with what people around here drove than she was, if anyone they knew drove an Escalade? But then they’d want to know why and what could she tell them?
Stop it! He’s not here. Get your shit together.
She seemed to be saying that to herself a lot these days.
She was still chewing on it when Linda buzzed her to tell her that her eleven thirty was here. Sam! Oh god. Now she really needed to get herself together. If she was a dithering mess when he walked in, he’d walk right out again for sure. Putting a smile on her face and picking up his file, she walked out to the reception area. Sam was standing to one side looking as if he wondered if he’d made the right decision.
“Good morning.”
He nodded. “Morning. I’m here.”
She almost laughed. “I see that, and I’m glad. Come on back.”
He followed her into her office.
“I wanted to go over the program your doctor has requested, before we get started.” She opened the folder she carried. “It’s pretty basic, but it’s going to take commitment on your part to be successful.”
“Successful.” He snorted. “Yeah, that might be a far reach.”
Cassie pasted her best professional, encouraging smile on her face.
“You might not think so, but if you follow the plan you may end up with at least 80 percent of use of your arm again.”
“That much?” His words were edged with sarcasm. “Wow!”
She closed the folder and looked at him. “Sam. I know how discouraging this is for you. I—”
‘You know?” he interrupted. “How do you know? Have you gone to war as a whole person and come back unable to do your job anymore? Have you been in a situation where a simple task requiring two good arms becomes next to impossible? Have you watched your friends go back to a world that was everything to you and know you’ll never be able to join them?”
Cassie drew in a calming breath. This was not the first time she’d faced a patient with this attitude, but it was certainly the first time she’d faced one who affected her personally the way Sam Alvarez did.
“Okay. Let’s look at that. When I was working in”—she stopped.—“in my last job, I dealt with a lot of wounded vets. Many of them had the same attitude you do, so I get it. You’re the only one who can change it, but I will tell you this. The more negative you are, the less you’ll work at this, and the worse your situation will be. If we don’t follow the program, this is as good as your arm is ever going to get. The choice is yours.”
He sat looking at her for a long time, his face giving away nothing. Then, as if someone had waved a magic wand, his lips curved in a trace of a smile.
“If I do good in class today, teacher, will you have lunch with me?”
Now why the fuck did I say that?
The minute the words were out of his mouth, Sam wished he could take them back. Why the hell would she want to have lunch with him? So they’d had a pleasant time over coffee. So what? That didn’t mean they were starting a relationship. God! He didn’t think he was even capable of one anymore. And for sure who the hell would want to have a meal with someone as surly as he was?
Just as he was about to tell her to forget it and let’s get on with this, she smiled and winked at him.
“How’s this? If you do well today, I’ll buy you lunch.”
Her reaction stunned him so much all he could do was nod his head.
Cassie rose from her chair. “Okay. Then let’s get started. Follow me.”
She led him into a big room where all the exercise equipment was set up. He also spotted two small rooms to the side with tables that he knew were for deep-muscle massage when it was needed. She led him into one of these.
“Okay.” She set her folder down on one of the tables and pointed to a row of hooks. “Take off your shirt and hang it on one of those hooks. Let’s see what we’re working with here.”
He sat, stoic, doing his best not to be an ass, while she looked at the anatomical diagram his doctor had sent, marked with arrows and notes. She examined his arm carefully, testing strength and motion. At last, she nodded and motioned him off the table.
“Okay. I put together some basic exercises for this first day. You’ve been more than a week without any workout at all, so I didn’t want to throw too much at you today. This will give me a good idea of your capability.”
“I can handle anything you throw at me,” he assured her. He needed to handle it.
“I’m sure you can.” She winked again. “After all, you’re a big bad SEAL.”
He wanted to say he wasn’t a SEAL anymore, but he kept his mouth shut. If he started whining, she might not have that lunch with him, and suddenly he wanted it. Was actually looking forward to it. Go figure.
The hour passed more quickly than he expected. Cassie Malone was no lightweight when it came to demanding work from her patient. Maybe the usual pain was blunted by the fact her agile fingers woke up his slumbering libido. Out of nowhere he had an image of those same fingers gripping his shaft, stroking and squeezing it. Her head was bent, her blonde hair falling like a silk curtain to surround him.
Still, at the end of the session, he felt as if a truck had rolled over his arm yet, strangely enough, the pain wasn’t as intense as he expected. Oh, he hurt and he ached, but then she took a tube of cream and rubbed some into his aching muscles. He was surprised at how gentle her fingers were, even as they worked the cream into the muscles and joints.
“Okay, Mr. SEAL.” She capped the tube. “You did very well today. I want to set you up on a three-day-a-week schedule, but you have to do those first three exercises at home on the in- between days.”
He frowned. “How come not every day?”
“Because the muscles need time to adjust after each session. And I can’t repeat this enough. If you want that arm to heal, on those off days you need to do those first three exercises at home.” She gave him a mock scowl. “I mean it, you know.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Okay. Good work. Let’s go into my office and get that schedule down. I want to see you Monday, Wednesday, and Friday until we get some more strength and mob
ility in that arm. Then we can cut to two days a week and finally just an occasional checkup. Sound good?”
“Sure. I want to get this fixed as soon as possible. Okay, schedule first, then lunch,” he reminded her.
“Oh.” She paused. “I didn’t realize you meant today.”
“Sorry.” All expression disappeared from his face. “Or have other plans.”
She looked at him for another long moment. He’d love to know what was going on behind that public mask she wore because he’d been trained to sense things, and he had the feeling something was going on with her that was anything but pleasant. He wanted to find out and tell her that if she had a problem, he’d take care of it.
Really, Sam? Stick your nose in her business when she was waffling about the lunch?
“No. I have no plans. Lunch it is. And thank you. Now, let’s work on that schedule.”
He tried to conceal the feeling of relief that washed over him. What the he was happening to him? For months he hadn’t given a damn about socializing with anyone. Now, in the space of two days, he was about to break bread for a second time with a woman he’d just met. Was he crazy? Maybe.
While she brought up the calendar on her computer, he pulled his shirt on and smoothed his hair back with his hands. When she finished entering dates and times, she copied the ones for him onto a separate page, printed it out, and handed it to him.
“I know sometimes things happen at the last minute. All I ask is that you give me as much notice as possible if you have to cancel.”
He folded the sheet of paper and stuffed it into his pocket. “No problem. So. Ready for lunch?”
She burst out laughing. “You never give up, do you?”
“Not even a little. That’s a trademark of SEALs.”
“Okay, Mr. SEAL. Let’s get to it then.”
Chapter 4
Since Sam really didn’t know the good places to eat in Castile, having been hibernating in the cottage, he asked Cassie to choose a restaurant. They ended up at The Lobster Roll, a rustic café at the end of Main Street, overlooking the ocean. As he slid into the booth and glanced out the window, he thought idly how incongruous it was that something so wild and untamed as the Atlantic Ocean could have such a soothing effect. Watching the waves crash onto the shore, the whitecapped breakers rolling in, seeing the boats navigating with care on the choppy seas, was perhaps the best tranquilizer he could ask for.
Maybe because its wildness was so predictable. Or maybe it was the challenges it presented that wiped out the nightmarish memories in his brain. All he knew was that each day he’d been here, without him realizing it, he felt a little more at peace. He had a feeling the life of the ocean had a lot to do with it.
And now, sitting here across from a beautiful woman, the only one who had rung his chimes since he was wounded, he felt like smiling for the first time in weeks. From the moment he’d looked up to the road and seen her standing there, something inside him had clawed itself awake. His dormant cock not only woke up it was sending him urgent messages. Looking at her now he wanted to run his fingers through the rich, honey-colored stands of her hair. Stroke them down her cheeks to see if her skin was as soft as it looked, tempting him to touch it. Lose himself in the depths of those hazel eyes. Maybe cup those nice, round beasts visible through her sweater, and—
Holy fucking shit. What was wrong with him? This very nice woman, who hadn’t been put off by his rude personality, who wasn’t upset when he spilled coffee and pastry all over her and was helping him rehab his broken wing, would probably smack him with one of the weights in her therapy studio if she knew what was going on in his mind.
“You look very pensive.” Her voice broke into his thoughts.
“Just looking out at the ocean,” he told her. “You know, when I first came here a little over a week ago, I was just looking for a place to be left alone, with not too many people around, where I could figure out the rest of my life.”
“Interesting.” She studied his face. “And are you finding it here?”
“To tell the truth, it’s better than I expected. There’s something about the ocean, no matter how wild it is, that has a calming effect. And the people, what little contact I’ve had, are friendly without intruding on your space. Even you, Cassie, didn’t ask a lot of prying personal questions like the other people who’ve been working on me. I feel as if I’m in a time warp. I didn’t know places like this existed.”
“Then I’m glad you chose to come here. And you aren’t nearly as surly as I expected you to be.”
Her tempting lips curved in a smile, and again he imagined them warming his cock, sliding up and down. Shit. If this kept up, he wouldn’t be able to get out of this booth when they were finished. With a supreme effort of will, he forced the image from his mind.
“Oh. Well.” He wasn’t sure how to respond. “I guess I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Good, because that’s how I meant it. So how about we order? I didn’t realize it but I’m starved.”
“Must be all the energy you expend working with us surly clients.”
She glanced at him then grinned when she realized he was joking.
“Oh, right. Ha ha.”
“So, what do you recommend? Maine’s supposed to be the lobster capital of the world, right?”
“It is indeed. Their best lunch is the bowl of clam chowder and a lobster roll.” She looked up at him. “You’d probably need two rolls. And if you eat all your vegetables, you can have an ice cream cone.”
Sam burst out laughing, a sound so rusty because he hadn’t used it in a long time.
“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.” After they gave their orders to the server, he leaned back in the booth and studied the woman across from him. Not classically beautiful but with a type of natural beauty that made his dick get hard. That was the second time in two days, after months of having a limp shaft no matter what he did. What the hell? She’d been very professional, touching him when she conducted his therapy, but he could still feel her soft but strong hands on his skin.
There was an outward appearance of calm to her, but when he really looked in her eyes he could see fear swirling there, bracketed by fine lines of tension. And though she tried to be casual about it, Sam noted she’d chosen a booth at the back of the small restaurant and sat facing the doorway. Every time someone entered, her body tensed, an almost unconscious change of posture. What the hell was going on here?
They made small talk while they waited for their food, but Sam could tell Cassie’s mind was only half engaged.
“Just out of curiosity, are you expecting someone you don’t want to see?” he asked.
“What?” She shifted her gaze back to him, her entire body rigid and her hands curled into fists.
“You seem to be fixated with the entrance, and every time someone walks in, you look as if you’re about to jump out of your skin.”
“Oh! Sorry.” With an effort she couldn’t quite hide, she forced herself to relax. “No. Yes. No.” She shook her head. “I mean, it’s nothing. I’m hoping this guy I dated in Boston and broke it off with doesn’t find out where I am and decide to come up here and try to talk me into coming back.”
Sam was grateful that the extreme control he learned with the SEALs prevented him from reacting the way any other man would. Although his guts were churning, the tone of her voice alerting him that this might be more than just a lovers’ quarrel made all of his spidey senses start hopping around on his skin.
“Lovers spat?” He hoped his voice had just the right teasing note. “Is that why you left Boston?”
She shook her head. “Of course not. He was just getting a little too possessive, and I was getting tired of Boston. But I don’t think he’d bother to come all the way up here. Anyway, he doesn’t know where I am.”
His eyebrows rose. “You left without telling him? That must have been some breakup.”
Cassie picked up a paper napkin and began shredding it. “I j
ust wanted to make a clean break. A fresh start. It’s better this way.”
They were interrupted by the arrival of their chowder and tall glasses of iced tea and gave themselves over for a few moments to enjoying the steaming, thick chowder. Then Sam circled back around to their conversation. There was something going on here, and his finely honed intuition told him he needed to find out what it was.
“So why Castile?” he asked. ”It’s not exactly the hot tourist spot in Maine.”
“And that’s the primary reason I chose it. I used to visit my aunt here in the summers. She had no children so when she died, she left her cottage to me. I like the town, the slow pace of life, the people. I’ve made a couple of friends since I moved here. It’s a quiet life, and I’m enjoying it.”
He wanted to ask her why, if that was true, the arrival of each new person made her almost jump out of her skin. But he kept his silence while they finished the very excellent chowder. He didn’t know why in the hell he was worried about this, anyway. He hadn’t looked at a woman in any way except for sex since he became a SEAL. Hadn’t wanted to. His entire focus was on being the very best, and in the SEALs there was a lot of tough competition for that. After all, their motto was, “The only easy day was yesterday.”
So, what was it about Cassie Malone that plucked at his emotions and pulled at his protective senses? As soon as he got his shit together he’d be out of here, anyway.
But, he thought, one of the many things he’d honed as a SEAL was the recognition of danger, and, for whatever reason, it hung around her like a big red cloud. He knew he should let it go, but suddenly this woman was becoming the focus of his life, and damned if he knew why.
He was fascinated with the way she ate her chowder, delicately placing each spoonful in her mouth. Each time she leaned forward, the dark green sweater she wore hugged her breasts, outlining their fullness. Sam’s hands itched to cup them. Feel the mounds and brush his thumbs over her nipples. He wanted to lick the stray drop of chowder from her full lower lip then slide his tongue into her mouth. He studied the way her fingers held the spoon, remembering their strength on his shoulder and arm, and wondering how they’d feel holding his cock.