Unending Desire: Outlawed Realm, Book 1 (2 page)

A glimmer of hope raced across his youthful features, replaced quickly by doom. Wrapping his arms around his well-fed frame, he rocked and muttered, “Why is this so fucking hard for me? Why can’t I be like everyone else and work in an office with other people rather than hiding in my room all day? If it wasn’t for my boss letting me program from home, I wouldn’t even have a job.”

“We all have our fears. Together, we’ll work through yours.”

He remained unconvinced. For the rest of his hour, he spoke of each defeat he’d endured during the last seven days. Repeatedly, Regina reminded him of the small victories, then fell silent as he did, her thoughts continuing to drift, her body hungering for what she’d encountered this morning.

The feeling that somehow she wasn’t alone any longer. A sense of being wanted and loved that she’d never experienced with any man. There had been too few in her life, none memorable, none touching her soul.

“Dr. Page?”

Regina started at the sound of her name. Her patient stood near his chair, shifting his weight from foot to foot, anxiety not allowing him a moment’s rest. Did he want to run from here now? Had she spoken her thoughts aloud, unknowingly causing more distress?

A moment passed. When she said nothing, he asked, “My hour’s up…isn’t it?”

His hesitation touched her, making Regina feel bad for her previous irritation and inattention. She offered a gentle smile. “Yes, it is.” Walking him to the door leading into the reception area, she said, “Work on those exercises we talked about. Record each victory, no matter how small you believe it to be. Remember, every panic attack has a beginning, a middle and an end. It will be over.”

His meaty shoulders slumped. “Not soon enough. It’s never soon enough.” With a heavy sigh, he moved toward the exit, offering a nod of farewell to Carly, Regina’s receptionist.

The young woman watched the outer door swing shut, then tapped her finger against her computer screen. “Your next appointment cancelled a few minutes ago. Claimed to have a flat tire. I told her she’d be charged for the hour. Didn’t faze her at all.” With a shrug, Carly brought down her hand.

Regina glanced at the heels of Carly’s boots rapping the hardwood floor. A sure sign she wanted to get out of here as badly as Regina did, though for different reasons. Having recently given birth, Carly couldn’t wait to get home to her new baby and husband.

What many would have considered an ordinary life, perhaps even dull. Compared to Regina’s, it was Las Vegas on steroids. Tonight, as all her other nights, she’d return to an empty house, eat a solitary meal, then read patient files before exhaustion drove her to sleep.

Maybe she should start prowling singles’ chat rooms, then take the ultimate leap to an Internet dating service.

Or get a cat. Maybe a dog. Possibly both.

“Looks like you have an hour to kill before your last appointment of the day,” Carly said.

Leaning against her doorjamb, Regina had an overwhelming urge to cancel her final patient, telling her something had come up, that the doctor wouldn’t be able to see her tonight.

“Hey, you okay?” Carly asked, leaning forward in her chair, her blue eyes narrowed in scrutiny.

Uncertain how to answer, Regina lied. “Sure.”

Carly regarded her for a long moment, then sucked her bottom lip.

“How about you?” Regina asked. “Everything all right?”

Guilt flashed across her face. With her short black hair and pretty features, she resembled a young Demi Moore in that old movie
Ghost.
She even spoke with a trace of Demi’s huskiness. “Can I take off a little early? The sitter called. She said Emma’s been fussy all day. I think she’s getting a cold. Poor little thing. The sitter took her temperature three times. It’s a bit elevated, and I—”

“Go,” Regina interrupted. “Take care of your daughter.”

Dimples on both sides of Carly’s mouth deepened with her grin. Nodding gratefully, she opened her bottom desk drawer and pulled out her purse.

Regina turned to go back into her office, then stopped abruptly at the sensation of warmth enveloping her. A thrilling jolt of heat as though a lover had wrapped her in his powerful embrace.

Someone’s watching.

The thought happened before she could stop it. She glanced at the front door to her office suite, half expecting someone…a man…to be standing there, an expression of wonder and longing on his face, his body as needy as hers.

No one had opened the door. No one had come inside. A wave of disappointment swept through Regina, followed by confusion.

What is the matter with you?

Carly’s chair made a brief, squeaking sound. The girl had slung the purse’s strap over her shoulder but hadn’t left her desk. Instead, she stared at Regina.

“What’s wrong?” Carly asked.

Regina managed to speak far more calmly than her bewilderment should have allowed. “Nothing.”

“You sure? You seemed kind of happy for a second, almost excited, then…” She paused, as though struggling for the correct words.

“Did you feel it?” Regina asked.

Carly’s slender brows shot up to the edge of her dark bangs. “Feel what?”

The surge of heat. The sense of someone watching.

“Nothing,” Regina answered, then added quickly to the girl’s troubled expression, “I’m fine. Really.”

Carly didn’t appear convinced. “Look, I can stay if you want. Maybe I should. Your last patient’s really strange. The vibes I get whenever she’s here. Ugh.” Her narrow frame shuddered. “You probably shouldn’t be here alone with her. She’s obviously not using her real name.”

Regina arched one brow. “Some people are named Smith.”

“Not her,” Carly argued. “She doesn’t look like a Smith. And what’s the deal with not telling us her first name?”

Regina stated the obvious. “Could be she’s embarrassed to be here.”

“Uh-uh. I think she’s hiding something. She pays in cash. Who does that? And she talks funny—when she does talk. Haven’t you noticed her odd accent?”

Regina crossed her arms over her chest. “How many of my patients speak English as a second language? How many of your neighbors are from other countries? And as far as Smith is concerned, maybe it’s her husband or ex-husband’s name.”

Carly’s brow wrinkled with her worried frown. “Even if it is, there’s something deeply weird about her. Something I can’t put my finger on.”

“She’s anxious,” Regina explained.

“No, it’s way more than that. Do you notice how she never looks at you directly?”

Few of Regina’s patients did. Humiliation over their problems made them timid and withdrawn. “That’s not unusual, Carly.”

“Maybe not. But more than a few times I saw her staring at me when she didn’t think I’d catch her. Before she glanced away, she had this really bizarre look on her face.”

“Could be she envies you. Could be she’s noticed the pictures of Hank and Emma on your desk and would like that for herself, rather than being alone all the time, living half a life.”

That took the steam out of Carly’s argument. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to notice Regina had been talking about herself.

Sucking her lower lip, Carly turned pensive, as though she was recalling her encounters with Ms. Smith. At last, she shrugged. “Yeah, well, maybe.” Pushing out of her chair, she backed to the front door, grabbing her black leather jacket from the coat tree. “You’re certain you’ll be all right?” She pushed her right arm through her coat sleeve. “Want me to go downstairs and grab a snack for you before I leave? Maybe a danish or—”

“I’ll go down and get it, okay?”

Carly pushed her other arm through its sleeve, shrugging her shoulders into the garment. “Sure. I’ll come in early tomorrow to make up for the time.”

“See you then.”

The door clicked closed on Regina’s words. Minutes after Carly’s hasty departure, Regina remained in her outer office, expecting, hoping for the previous warmth to return.

It did not.

Frustrated, she went into her office and paced, too restless to sit, her anxiety beginning to match that of her patients.
Dammit. Get a grip.
Unable to take her own advice, Regina pulled her purse out of her desk drawer. With a ten-dollar bill and her office keys in hand, she dropped her purse back into the drawer, locked the outer door to her office and hurried down the hall to the elevator, not wanting to spend the next hour alone. Not wanting to wait for something that made no sense…that probably hadn’t happened at all.

Although it was only mid-November, the building’s coffee shop—Cup-a-Joe—was already festooned with Christmas decorations. Large red bows embellished the decorative gas lamps at the two entrances. Dainty lights in bright red, green, yellow and blue blinked around the establishment’s service area and its numerous arched windows facing the street. Throughout the day, the weather had continued to deteriorate. Currently, a steady rain fell, the sodden clouds making the hour darker and drearier than it should have been.

The pungent scent of freshly brewed coffee, coupled with the sweet fragrance of baked goods, drew Regina into the cozy, packed space. Couples occupied all of the seats near the windows. Solitary diners had taken most of the tall pedestal tables where one had to stand while enjoying the fare. A relaxed, dreamy quality permeated the room. Muted conversations lulled rather than disturbed. An occasional chuckle enhanced the festive décor, heightening Regina’s loneliness. A month ago, she’d refused to notice, suppressing her aching solitude beneath countless cases, patients who had their own problems.

Tonight, though…

She couldn’t help but notice the couples, many young, others approaching middle age. The psychologist in her studied their comfort level with each other, their quick, easy smiles, carefree conversations, contented silences. She could see these people belonged together, whether through romantic love, friendship or family ties.

Yearning she couldn’t seem to shake continued to hound her.

Six months before, she’d lost her mother—her best friend—after a grinding bout with breast cancer. The road to death hadn’t been easy, nor had the woman’s life. From the time Regina was small, she’d watched her mom worrying about them having enough food, a place to sleep, and had vowed to make things better for them. She’d worked tirelessly to earn her PhD and build her practice, doing all that she could to avoid making any mistakes, especially when it came to men.

Her mother had fallen hard for Regina’s father, an older boy in her neighborhood, with that leading to no end of grief. He’d abandoned them when Regina was two, unwilling to accept any responsibility, wanting to hang with his friends and work just long enough to be eligible for disability. Without a high school education or family support, Regina’s mother had taken whatever menial jobs she could get, supplementing her meager earnings with state aid, leaving her daughter too afraid to take a risk on any guy.

A young man near one of the wood-paneled walls slung his arm around his girl. She leaned into him, saying something that made him throw back his head and laugh.

Regina couldn’t stop staring, envying them.

“Ah, ma’am?”

She turned. The ponytailed barista arched her brows, waiting for Regina’s order. Neither thirsty nor hungry, she couldn’t bring herself to leave for her empty office, so she selected a white hot chocolate with extra whipped cream and a blackberry scone.

Patrons from behind discussed what movie to see tonight—the new Brad Pitt flick, which critics had likened to
Se7en,
or the more in-your-face action-adventure starring Matt Damon.

Just as the group decided where to go, the barista delivered Regina’s order. Glancing around, she took her items to the last empty pedestal table and forced herself to go through the motions of setting up her fare, something she would have advised her patients to do.
Stay with it. Don’t run. The bad will end.

She wanted to believe it but couldn’t. Rarely had she felt more alone. She licked at the whipped cream on her decadent hot chocolate, then took a sip. The sensuous taste sparked momentary pleasure many women would have claimed, or joked, rivaled an orgasm. For Regina, it was a poor substitute, unable to replace the thrill of a lover’s kiss or his impassioned caress.

Mechanically, she took a bite of her pastry. Flakes from the buttery dough fell to her napkin, while the aroma of sweetened blackberries brought to mind a homey kitchen filled with extended family. A Norman Rockwell portrait of a time long gone. What family ate together anymore? What family had ever been perfect?

Arching a brow at her sentimentality, determined to push it aside as she’d done all of her life, Regina swallowed, then took another bite. Mid-chew, a sudden flush of warmth washed over her, permeating her limbs, oiling and loosening them.

Within seconds, she sensed it again…someone watching.

Anticipation made her look up; life experience made her wary. Peering right and left, Regina noted that no one glanced in her direction. Conversations continued. Patrons consumed their food and drinks.

Disconcerted, she glanced behind herself, seeing nothing different. No one acknowledged or even noticed her.

Heat continued to travel to her pussy, lingering there. It climbed to her throat and cheeks. A picture scrolled across her mind of large hands on either side of her face, gentle and caressing, lips brushing her skin, the rush of warm breath tickling her cheek, her lids closing on a lusty moan, her body sagging against hard male flesh scented with musk.

Where are you?
Regina’s mind asked before she knew it would.

At the establishment’s street entrance a knot of people stood in the open doorway, shaking water from their umbrellas, brushing beads of moisture from their coats.

The edge of her napkin fluttered in the dank breeze. The patron closest to her, a young guy in a beautifully tailored suit, called out, “Hey, close the door. You’re letting in the cold.”

Regina experienced only building warmth. She rested her fingertips on the top of her table, noting how cool the polished wood was to her touch.

Her attention swung from the baristas behind the serving area to the individual facing it. A man who must have arrived shortly before those who’d left the door open. Tall, with a powerful build, muscled yet lean, he wore a black crewneck sweater, jacket and a dark blue topcoat. The ends fluttered above his similarly colored pants. Combed away from his forehead, his thick raven hair was wavy and worn longish in the back. Strong masculine features, ruggedly handsome, complemented his olive complexion.