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She had a feeling he was probably loved or hated around here, not much in between. He was a man who inspired reaction. He’d sure as hell always inspired one in her. Just not one that had any place at work.
Stop it. She sat up straighter, studiously ignoring how well his shoulders filled out that dress shirt, how the blue of his tie matched his eyes, and how his dark hair looked thick enough for her fingers to get lost in. Nope. Totally wasn’t going to pay attention to any of that.
He spread his fingers over the papers on his desk. “Okay, so I’m a big believer in learning by doing. You can read textbooks and academic journals until your brain explodes, but none of that is going to prepare you for when a client is there with you, asking for help. So most of this training is going to be you sitting in on sessions with me.”
Marin laced her hands together, trying to keep them still. She knew that experiential learning would be involved but anxiety still fizzed in her veins. “Okay.”
“And I don’t want you to feel like you have to stay silent. I’ll take the lead at first, but if you have something to add or a question to ask the client, go for it. I want you to participate. You may think of something I missed, which is always helpful. But it also makes people more comfortable if you’re part of the conversation and not just this stranger listening to them. If you go off track, I’ll help guide you back. Don’t be afraid to mess up. I’ve got your back.”
I’ve got your back. Images of being bent over that desk in the sleep lab, his hands on her hips, his body pumping into her, flashed through her mind. Heat crawled through her. Damn, she had to stop doing that. Why did he still have that effect on her? She was a grown woman, not some teenager with a crush. She really should’ve tried harder to find a guy in the last few years. It was screwing with her head that her only associations with actual sex involved this man. It was her only reference point. And it didn’t help that he was still so fucking attractive. Even more so now, if she was honest.
She cleared her throat, hoping her makeup covered the warmth that had rushed to her cheeks. “Telling a perfectionist not to be afraid to mess up is like telling the grass to stop being green.”
He gave her a half-smile. “Seeking perfection is the surest way to drive yourself crazy. Believe me. We’re an imperfect species. Good thing—since you and I would be out of jobs otherwise.” He leaned on his forearms, those blue eyes impossible to look away from. “But you’re not going to learn if you don’t take some risks. You’re not going to get in trouble for a mistake. I’m not your boss, and I’m not looking for reasons to mark off points. This is a team effort. Our goal is the same: Help the clients and keep Dr. Suri happy. That’s it.”
The sustained eye contact was almost too much. She released a breath and nodded. “Okay.”
“And you’ll learn quickly that we’re not very by-the-book around here anyway. People pay a lot of money to come to The Grove because we do take risks. We’re not afraid to try out experimental techniques or go about things from a different angle. The only rules you need to remember are that we’re here to diagnose and treat, not judge, that there has to be consent for every treatment we try, and that you have to keep your boundaries crystal clear with your clients. If you have those three things covered, you’re golden.”
“Got it.” She sat up straighter. “So what’s on the agenda today?”
Donovan checked his watch and stood. “An appointment in ten minutes.”
Her ribs cinched tight. “Right into the fire, huh?”
He smirked. “Is there any better place to be?”
She stood, smoothing her slacks just to give her fidgeting hands something to do. “Should I read the client’s chart first? Or maybe see the treatment plan? Are they going to be okay with me being in there? I don’t want to throw anyone off or compromise—”
“Whoa, there. Slow down.” He stepped around his desk.
She nodded, a quick, jerky gesture and her fists balled. Dammit. Dammit. Dammit. So much for calm, cool, collected Marin. She’d lose all freaking credibility if she had some kind of panic attack in his office before they even got started. “Okay. Right. Yes. Slow down. Sorry. I think I had too much coffee this morning.”
He stepped in front of her and took one of her clenched hands, smoothing it out and sandwiching her cold fingers between his warm palms. “Look at me.”
She did.
“Take a breath, Dr. Rush. You’ve got this.” He squeezed her hand, his attention not wavering from her face. “And even when you don’t, you’ve got me.”
His voice had lowered since he was close, and it reminded her of the long-ago voice on those private recordings, that sinful voice whispering filthy things in her ear. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to ignore the way his touch zinged up her arm, the way her heart went from jog to sprint. “I’m good. I’ll be fine. I just like to be prepared.”
“You’re as prepared as you’re ever going to be.” He let go of her hand, offering some relief from that electric sensation, but then he put his palm against the small of her back instead. Oh, that was so much worse. So. Much. Worse. Warmth curled up her spine. “Come on. You can get settled in the room before anyone shows up. Get your game face on.”
She let him lead her to the space next door, her heartbeat like a pulsing fist in her throat. She could do this. She had to.
He opened the door for her. Inside was a room much bigger than his office but matching the general decor she’d seen on the rest of the floor—modern touches tastefully mixed with a few antique pieces. Elegant but welcoming. Like a posh hotel. There were two heather-blue Victorian couches with curving wooden legs, a cushy armchair, and a pair of high-end desk chairs that rolled. Large black-and-white photos of various landscapes decorated the walls. And on one side of the room was a large plate-glass window that looked out onto the grounds, providing a gorgeous view. The desk was tucked in the corner—unobtrusive and simple, a place to take quick notes after a session.
“Nice setup.”
He let her step inside first and his hand slipped away, making her feel both relieved and adrift. “Yeah, they don’t cut corners here. Lots of space to use on this floor. And we can use our individual offices for sessions, but I pref
er this one because of the view. It gives clients the option of facing us or going Freudian on the couch and putting their back to us while they talk.”
“Right.” Marin walked over to a long panoramic photograph of a beach. It was a stunning landscape. Pristine sand and churning water, big sky. But instead of appearing serene, it seemed lonely, desolate. Maybe it was the black-and-white tones, but she found herself wishing it had been photographed in color. She turned back to Donovan. “So you’re not going to tell me anything about who we’re seeing?”
“Not enough time. But you’ll catch up easily enough.” He headed over to the desk and grabbed two steno pads. He handed her one along with a pen. “Just relax. The first time is always the hardest. Best to get it out of the way quick and dirty like.”
She snorted and quickly tried to block the noise with her hand.
