Chapter Five
Tasha
Over the next week, I spent each day vacillating between euphoric anticipation and paralyzing doubt.
The anticipation was heady and fueled in no small part by the texts that appeared steadily on my phone from one Mac, which was the name Derek had used to enter his information on my phone. He’d sworn that no one would ever be able to figure out that pseudonym. I’d expressed my doubts, but he’d kissed me until I forgot what I’d been protesting.
The man was relentless. He sent me messages each morning, wishing me a good day at work and hoping I didn’t have any ‘surly, uncooperative patients.’ I’d giggled at that and responded that thanks to him, I’d met my quota this year for those kinds of patients.
The texts continued throughout the day, sometimes just checking in, others telling me how he was doing. And every night, he reminded me of how many hours until our Friday night date.
What woman wouldn’t be walking on air with that kind of attention?
But the doubts were strong, too. Of course, I worried about what would happen if something real and lasting developed between Derek and me. I’d have to tell Corinne and the clinic leadership eventually, and things could get messy. There were ethical lines I was skirting here, and others I’d flagrantly crossed. It made me nervous.
I’d known I was treading on dangerous ground when I’d gone to Derek’s house on Sunday. To my credit, Ihadtried to mitigate the potential complications by getting in touch with Shaw Kincaid, using the number he’d given me that first day, explaining that I’d assigned Derek a task and suggesting that he could stop by to make sure the patient was complying. He’d been easy-going about the idea, telling me he thought he could get all of their buddies together to go over.
I’d breathed a little easier, hearing that. I could stop by Derek’s house so that I didn’t disappoint him, and at the same time, we’d have several chaperones, making sure that we kept everything between us on a professional level only.
But then I’d gotten held up when I’d stopped to see my parents, and by the time I’d arrived, the guys were getting ready to leave. I knew I should have left then, too. And when he’d touched me, I knew I should have gently but firmly shot him down. It might have hurt, but in the long run, it would have been better for both of us.
It had been his words that had seduced me even more than his lips or his hands. What he’d said about exploring possibilities struck a nerve until I knew there was no way I could say no. I had to try. We had to see.
Aside from the complications of work, niggling questions about whether or not I was ready to make this leap now assailed me, usually attacking in the middle of the night, when everything seemed worse. Given my background, it was only natural that I’d move cautiously into any new relationship. I wasn’t sure I could trust my own judgement.
Not for the first time, I wished I had a close girlfriend I could consult. That was one of the downsides of growing up in the Army; while I made friends quickly, I rarely kept in touch beyond social media shout-outs and Christmas cards. The girls I’d gotten to know in high school, when we’d actually stayed at one posting for all four years, had dropped from my life after I’d gotten involved with Wes. Isolating me had been one of his crueler goals.
Of course, there was always my mom, but I knew I couldn’t confide in her. She’d freak out about me being with anyone just now. Or she’d have my dad run a thorough investigation on Derek. She’d end up stressing me out more than I already was.
And so I rode the waves of joy and fear on my own until Friday night. I only saw Derek briefly during the week; given his progress, it was completely appropriate to cut back his therapy times. When he did come in, I reviewed his status, reiterated the importance of easing back into work and recommended that he continue using the essential oils. He’d winked at me and promised that he’d never stop using the oils ... that he’d gotten completely addicted to them over the past few months.
I was sure my face had gone red; although his words were innocent and in keeping with our therapist-patient relationship, there had been something in the way he’d said them that had lit up parts of my body. I couldn’t help flashing back to how his hands had felt just below my breasts, teasing with his feather-soft touch.
On Friday, I left work right on time and drove home as fast as the speed limit would allow. Derek was picking me up at six, which meant I had about forty-five minutes to get ready. The beauty of having short hair was that I didn’t have to fuss with it, which would help tremendously. I jumped into a fast shower, and washed, shaved and rinsed all the necessary parts. Wrapping myself in a fluffy towel, I rubbed cream into my legs and arms, adding a little bit more for my stomach and breasts. A tingle of excitement sparkled through me; it was as though by paying attention to body parts I’d been neglecting for quite a while, I was giving into the idea that I planned for more than just kissing at the end of tonight’s date.
I wasn’t into heavy makeup at the best of times. I studied my face and ended up dotting on some concealer, dusting on some powder and brushing on a little mascara. It made my skin tone a little more even without overdoing it.
Derek had let me know that the restaurant he’d chosen was, in his words, “nice without being too fancy schmancy.” I’d interpreted that to mean I could wear a dress without feeling out of place. I didn’t have too many date outfits; everything in my closet was geared to comfort for work and the occasional Army dinner or ball when my parents forced the issue of my attendance. But a few months back, on impulse I’d bought a deep green silk dress. It fit me like a glove, hitting just above my knees, and while it was low-cut enough to make it seem I had actual cleavage, it wasn’t too daring. The tiny straps over the shoulders were each adorned with a single bow.
I added strappy silver sandals, some simple jewelry and spritzed on a little bit of perfume ... and then I was ready. I still had ten minutes to spare, which was just enough time for me to freak out.
My doorbell rang, and dread made my stomach flip over. It had to be my mom, stopping for one of her random drop-ins with her always-impeccable timing. I pressed a hand to my middle to settle the butterflies and yanked open the door, prepared to scold.
On the other side, standing on my small front stoop, Derek McTavis looked a whole hell of a lot better than my mother would have.
He wore gray dress pants that were just snug enough to remind me of that perfect ass without being indecent. His burgundy shirt was open at the collar, and the long sleeves were turned up to show his forearms.God, did forearms turn me on.
And he’d gotten his hair cut—short this time, back to a regulation cut. It made him look like a different man: he wasn’t Derek, my patient anymore; he truly was Captain McTavis.
“Hey, Tasha.” He lifted his left hand, and I realized he was holding red tulips. “You look ... wow.”
I hardly registered the flowers. “You got your hair cut!” I blurted out.
He grinned at me. “Yes, ma’am, I did. I had to, with going back to work.”
His smile was so familiar that my nerves calmed. He looked different, but he was still Derek. I accepted the flowers and then stood to the side. “Come on in. Let me put these in water.”
He hesitated a moment before stepping over the threshold and closing the door behind him. My heels clicked on the tile as I headed for the kitchen and bent over to retrieve a vase. “You’re early. In the interest of complete disclosure, I thought you were my mom.”
