Coming Clean (13 page)

I read over the document, noting a lot of the same expectations as Dr. Sparling had had. The confidentiality section was ironclad, on both sides, and we'd be agreeing to follow the plan Katya would design for us.

Admittedly, I was a little anxious about signing an agreement promising to do whatever someone else told me to regarding a topic as intimate as my sexual relationship, but if I hadn't been willing, I wouldn't have been there to begin with. So I took a leap of faith and scribbled my signature on the dotted line. Shaw did the same, taking mine from me and rising out of the chair to hand the contracts back across the desk.

Katya took them, signing the witness section of each before returning them to the folder and filing it away in a drawer. “Marvelous! Now, the first thing I need you to do is to send your son to stay with a relative for a bit.”

I drew my head back, eyes wide. I don't know what I'd expected, but that certainly hadn't been it. “Whoa! Is that really necessary?” I laughed.

Katya put her palms on the desk, linking her fingers. “I don't like to have my time wasted, so I won't do the same with yours.”

Um, okay. That really wasn't such a big deal. We could totally do that. I shrugged at Shaw. “I guess we can ask Chaz and Demi if they'd mind having more time with him. I'm sure they'd love another sleepover.”

“Oh, no. You misunderstand, darling,” Katya told me. “It will need to be for the duration of our sessions.
All
of our sessions.”

I was confused at first until I started doing the math and put two and two together.

“You want us to send our child away?” This airy sort of discombobulated panic rushed to my fingertips and toes and then retraced the path back to my heart before it ping-ponged up to my brain and then crash-landed into my heart again. Though likely it had found its final resting place in my throat because I was having a hell of a time getting any words to come out. “I—I can't—I can't do that!”

“You came to me for help, and I'm offering it. Did you not just say you trusted me?”

“Well, yeah, but I'm not going to send my child away!”

Katya frowned, disappointment settling into her features. “That is a shame. I am sorry we could not work together. Nevertheless, I wish you the best of luck. Do see yourselves out.”

“Hold on just a minute,” Shaw said, standing.

But Katya cut him off before he could protest further. “As I've already said, I do not like to have my time wasted. Nor do I like to repeat myself.”

“Can't you just tell us why it's necessary to send our son away?”

Katya sighed, though softened. “It would only be a temporary situation. Your relationship is lacking intimacy, and a great deal of that comes when a couple actually sleeps together. Cassidy sleeps with your child, and will likely continue to do so as long as he is there. It is a habit that develops not only for the young one but for the parent as well.

“Aside from that,” she continued, “I will be giving you assignments to complete. Assignments that will be detailed and vary in timing and setting. Having to make arrangements for the child will alter the mood I'm trying to create for these missions. I cannot help if you insist on working against me.”

Shaw and I looked to each other for an answer, neither of us seeming to have the right one. I could see the apprehension etched into his expression. Abe had never been away from us for more than an overnight visit. If the separation anxiety was already beginning to set in for me, I couldn't imagine what that might be like for Abe.

“I don't want to be separated from him any more than you do,” Shaw told me. “It's just temporary?” he asked Katya.

“Of course, darlings.” She laughed, the playful sound oozing with sensuality. “I only desire to stoke your passions once more, not to have you abandon your child.”

Shaw turned to me. “Do you think you can be okay with this?”

I knew he expected me to say I wouldn't, which would have been an honest answer, but I nodded instead. I didn't like it, not one bit, but we were doing this for Abe as much as we were doing it for us. Shaw and I were the catalyst of our family. Without a healthy relationship, Abe would be another statistic from a broken home.

“Yeah, it's temporary.” I managed a weak smile, one I knew Shaw wasn't buying. “I could use a break, right? I mean,
we
need a break, some time to sort things out and get back to the way we used to be. So yeah…We need to do this for us. We can send him to Stonington to spend some time with Da and Ma. Besides, he'll just think of it as a grand adventure.”

Shaw smiled, leaning over to kiss my forehead. “Okay, we'll do it,” he told Katya.

“Excellent.” Katya purred her approval. “The three of us are going to have so much naughty fun together. You will see.

“Now that we have that settled, you will need to answer your questionnaires, leaving no blanks, and get them back to me this evening. You can email the scanned copies to the address included in the header. It is very important that I receive them before your next visit. Those forms will help me develop a plan that is right for you. Do you understand?”

“Absolutely.” I'd make sure Shaw sat his butt down tonight and filled this form out without making a mockery of it like he did with Jeremy's.

“Wonderful. And no peeking at each other's answers.” She stood and walked around her desk to center herself in front of it. Long, lean legs with curvy calf muscles, the definition of which could be seen even through all of that tight leather, crossed at the ankles above her sensual feet. “And now for my number one rule: no orgasms by any method not directed by me. Which means…no sex, no heavy petting, and no masturbating for either of you. No exceptions.”

“What?” both Shaw and I squeaked at the same time.

“Doesn't that sort of defeat the purpose?” Shaw asked.

“The purpose is to find your passion again, is it not?”

“Well, yeah, but…”

“But, but, but,” Katya said, waving him off. “Katya knows best, sweetling. Do not ask questions. Simply do as I say.”

For whatever reason, I suddenly got an image of Mr. Miyagi saying,
We make sacred pact. I promise teach karate to you, you promise learn. I say, you do, no questions
.

Shaw leaned over and whispered, “Wax on, wax off, Daniel-son.”

“Oh, my God, get out of my head.” I laughed, suddenly straightening when Katya cleared her throat.

I could feel embarrassment warming my cheeks as I apologized, elbowing Shaw to do the same. I hadn't been called out by the teacher since the third grade when I'd giggled at the fart noises my best friend—and ex-lover—Casey, had been making with his armpit.

“If you do not want my help, we can destroy the contracts now,” she threatened.

“No! We do, we do!” I was surprised by how much I really meant it. “We'll do whatever you say. Won't we, Shaw?”

Holy Jesus! When I turned to look at him, expecting his agreement—however forced—I saw a version of Shaw that I hadn't seen in a very long time. His mouth was turned up in a teasing smirk, a sexy confidence smoldered in his eyes, and he sat back as if opening himself up, like he was daring another to try her hand at attempting to handle all that his body had to offer. That was the Shaw Matthews I'd hated, lusted after, and then ultimately come to love. And he was back in the game.

“I'm dying to see what's in store,” he told Katya.

Excitement coursed through my veins and my heart thundered in my chest. I'd lost me and he'd lost him, but we were on the right track to finding each other again. And we had a gorgeous instructor that oozed all things hot and bothered to help us along the way. I could hardly wait to see what our first assignment would be!

“Shaw, you must find a way to bring Cassidy to orgasm without touching her.”

That had been the very first assignment Dr. Minkov had given to us. Well, to me.

“And to be clear,” she'd continued, “you may not use dildos, vibrators, wands, whips, or any other fun little toys you might have on hand.” And then she'd leaned in to whisper something into Cassidy's ear, her bosom pressing suggestively close to my woman's. Cassidy still hadn't told me what all that was about, saying she was permitted to tell me only if I figured out how to accomplish the task.

It was more a riddle than a task. How the hell was I supposed to get her off if I couldn't touch her? I would've pulled a Cassidy and run an Internet search on it, but if anyone had felt the need to check my search history, that shit would've been embarrassing as hell.

No matter. Where there was a will, there was a way. Despite my already aching balls—a suggestion I was sure had been planted by Dr. Minkov herself, thanks to the “no getting off without her permission” rule, which Cassidy was damn sure going to stick to—I was determined to figure out the puzzle. It was just going to take a little thought. Thankfully, I had some time.

Katya had given us a week before our next session to get things with Abe settled. Cassidy was milking every second of our time with him, though she'd already made the arrangements to get him to Stonington and into her family's care by the end of the week. Abby, my “adopted” mother, was taking the primary role since Anna, Cassidy's ma, had the bed-and-breakfast to tend to with the beginning of the tourism season, which happened to coincide with the busiest time of year for Duff, as well as Abby's husband and son, Thomas and Casey, as they refreshed all of their lobstering gear and reset the traps. I knew firsthand how grueling that work could be.

In the meantime, I had more pressing matters to tend to. Like the matter of Wade's replacement in our partnership and getting Marcel Ingram signed.

I'd gone to see Wade and had asked him how the search for his substitute was going. The secretive bastard had only given me a dubious grin and said, “I've got it covered.”

“What the hell does that mean?” I'd asked.

He'd stood, come over to me to put his hand on my shoulder, and then said, “It means, I've got it covered.” He'd escorted me toward the exit after that, nudging me over the threshold and then closing me out, to leave me standing there looking like an idiot with a solid slab of wood touching the tip of my nose. Rude, much?

The office rumor, according to my assistant, Ben—who was absolutely on top of any gossip circulating the office and its validity, worse than any teenage girl—was that Wade already had a good idea who his replacement would be. In fact, many of our own agents had dropped out of the running because they were sure the decision had already been made. It would've been nice if Wade had filled me in, but it seemed he wasn't even willing to give me a clue. Whatever. He knew what he was doing. I hoped.

So that had left me with only the Marcel thing to deal with, and he wasn't going to be in town for much longer, so I had Ben get him on the line for me.

“Hey, man! You got any plans for today?” I asked Marcel once I'd picked up the line. “I thought maybe we could spend some time together.”

“Sorry, man, but the fam and I are going to head to the beach for a bit,” he told me. “Vale has never seen the ocean, and I'd like to try my hand at surfing.”

“Wow, surfing?”

“Yeah. When in Rome, right?” He laughed. “It's something I've always wanted to do, and Kentucky isn't exactly known for its bitchin' waves.”

I laughed when I heard Camille in the background, scolding him for the language usage in front of their daughter.

And then an idea hit me. A wonderfully brilliant idea. If it didn't backfire and blow up in my face, that is. “That sounds like a lot of fun,” I lied, having no desire to teeter precariously on a slim piece of wood—or whatever surfboards were made of—in the middle of a shark-infested ocean, the sister of which, the Atlantic, had once attempted to steal the life from me. Nevertheless, I made sacrifices where necessary when it came to business and the bottom line, and signing Marcel was a very lucrative bottom line. “Camille and Vale are going?”

“Yep!”

“Mind if my family and I tag along? My boy, Abe, loves the beach, and he doesn't get many playdates with kids his age. I bet he and Vale would have a blast. Plus, it'll give Cassidy and Camille a chance to get to know each other.”

“Actually, that sounds like a great idea. Camille has asked about meeting your woman. Cassidy Whalen, right?”

“Yeah. How'd she know?”

Marcel laughed. “Because where I'm the brawn, she's the brains in this family. She's done her research, and Cassidy Whalen is a pretty big name in the industry.”

“That she is.” I barely kept my competitive nature at bay, trying not to let the memory of Cassidy's past victory over me with the whole Denver Rockford thing rear its ugly head. She wasn't my competition on this one, but it seemed she might be in the plus category of my current endeavor. “Sounds like your girl and mine have a lot in common already,” I said with a forced chuckle of my own. “So let's do this, man.”

Marcel was on board. Score one for Shaw Matthews. I offered to arrange for a surfing instructor to meet us at a beach that I'd heard had decent waves without being overly crowded. Though he was game for the beach suggestion, Marcel was confident he could figure out the how-to's of the surfing on his own. I wasn't so sure of that for myself, so I'd have to YouTube it. We'd decided I would get a spot ready for us on the beach, complete with boards, a sun umbrella, and some refreshments. Ben would handle that shit, grumbling the whole time, but, hey, at least he'd get out of the office for a while.

After agreeing to meet at the beach in an hour, I disconnected the call, gave Ben his assignment, and then made another call. Cassidy answered, sounding slightly out of breath, having been chasing Abe around the house. “Get him ready and pack a bag,” I told her. “We're going to the beach. All three of us.”

Once we pulled into the parking lot off the shore, I got out and looked down toward the beach. Marcel was next to Camille as she lathered sunblock onto every inch of Vale's exposed skin. I tapped the horn twice, getting his attention and returning his wave.

When I closed the car door, Cassidy was standing beside me, hands on her hips. Hips that held a sarong skirt knotted on one side, which matched the sea-green one-piece she wore. The bathing suit showed off every voluptuous curve and swell of her body. The color, however, contrasted with the angry shade of her accusing glare. “I can't believe you, Matthews.”

“What?”

She gestured toward the beach. “That's Marcel Ingram! And I assume that's his wife and kid, right? Please tell me you're not seriously using Abe and me to get the contract.”

Not entirely, but admitting even a minuscule amount was not going to bode well for me. “Look, the biggest complaint I ever hear from you is that I don't give you and Abe more time because of my work. But I
do
still have to work, Cass. I figured this way, two birds, one stone. Besides, Abe's about to leave for who knows how long, and I'd like to have a little fun with my family if that's okay with you. What's so bad about that?”

She crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed suspicious eyes. Uh-oh. “Why do I get the feeling there's more to it than that?”

There was no use in lying. The woman could read me like a book, and lying would only make things worse. “Fine. I was kind of hoping you could work on Camille while I work on Marcel.”

“I knew it!” she shrieked. A vicious Cassidy Whalen tirade was about to commence at any second, so I had to get her calmed down.

“Wait a minute, Cass. Just hear me out on this,” I demanded. “Marcel and Camille are here on vacation and want to have a good time. And I know you miss this.”

Her eyes narrowed further. “Miss what?”

“Schmoozing clients.”

Her mouth dropped open. “I have not
ever
schmoozed clients.” Great, I'd insulted her delicate pride again.

“Fine. I schmooze; you show off how incredibly smart, talented, and sincerely invested you are in an athlete's future.” I crossed my fingers behind my back.

“I know what you're doing, Shaw. You don't actually think I'm stupid enough to fall for this line of bullcrap, do you?”

“No. You've always seen right through my
bullcrap,
” I admitted, and then stooped to eye level with her. Cassidy stared off, the crease in her brow that was always present when she was mad at me made an appearance, but I kept going. “I'm trying to spend time with you and Abe while showing Marcel we have the whole loving-family thing in common. Plus, it's a prime opportunity for me to give to you that which I know you miss so very much. I promise, my intentions are not purely selfish on this one. You miss it, and I miss seeing you in your element. I miss the vitality and snap you embody when you're doing your thing.”

I took her hips, pulling her closer and incredibly tempted to work that damn sarong knot loose. Dr. Minkov was a master of suggestion, indeed. “It makes me so fucking hard, Cassidy. Do it for me. Please?”

She finally looked at me; her lips parted and the crease smoothed. My words had affected her. “Okay, fine,” she said, succumbing to my charm.

“Yes! You're the best!” I said triumphantly with a loud “Muah!” kiss to her lips.

“But,” she poked me in the chest with her finger and then continued, “you've got bath duty with Abe tonight.”

“Totally cool,” I relented, following it up with a suckass, “
You're
totally cool. Like, the coolest baby-mama on the face of the planet. In the whole universe!”

She laughed at my antics. “You're such a suck-up. Get your son. I'll grab the beach bag.”

The introductions between Marcel's family and mine went swimmingly. Vale hid behind her daddy's leg, giving Abe a blushing grin. My boy, so much like his daddy, unabashedly stepped forward and asked her if she wanted to be friends. Vale nodded, that grin becoming more flirtatious as Abe gathered his sand pail and shovel in one hand and took hers in the other to run to the beach less than ten yards away.

Camille's excitement over meeting Cassidy wasn't anything like her daughter's shyness. She hadn't smiled like that even when meeting me. I knew right then that I was lucky Cassidy and I weren't competing over Marcel like we had over Denver. If we had been, I'd have been forced to throw in the towel early on.

Leaving the ladies to get to know each other better—or do their nails, braid each other's hair, gossip, or whatever it was women did—a very eager Marcel and I headed for the deep blue abyss. My onetime nemesis. Our relationship had been fragile. Scratch
fragile;
it had been downright death-defying.

“Shaw!” Cassidy called out to me. I turned to see what she wanted, noting the silent vote of confidence written in her expression. She must have noticed the hesitation in my steps. She wagged a finger at me. “No showboating.” Well, would you look at that? My woman was laying down cover before I even needed it.

“No worries. I'll let Marcel have all the fun,” I said, going with it. I hated that she knew I had a weakness, but I loved that she read me well enough to bail me out before shit got too real. “Women, right?” I laughed it off to Marcel.

“Right. Let's go, man.” Marcel grabbed one of the boards, nothing more than an unassuming rental, and ran toward the water with me following suit.

Luckily, I did have the time to review a short tutorial on surfing before I'd left the office, so I repeated the steps over and over in my head. Stringer, rails, nose, tail, fins, leg strap, check. Those were the important parts. The actual surfing basics had seemed simple enough. Paddle out, duck-dive under the crashing waves, paddle out farther, sit and wait for a swell, and then manage to pop up and keep my balance on the board to ride the wave in without falling off and sucking gulps of salty water into my lungs. Or hitting my head on a jagged reef. Or being mistaken for a seal and becoming a meaty morsel for a shark snack. Right. Simple.

Or not. The board and I fought for dominance as I tried to mount the damn thing to get started in the first place. I looked like a flailing fledgling, I was sure, but it was cool because so did Marcel. Finally remembering the video instructions, I found the middle of the board and was off and running, er, paddling. Marcel was no more than a half beat behind me on that one. Amazingly, we both managed to make it out to the swells without incident, and there we sat, waiting for the waves to kick up again.

“Sorry, man. I heard this was normally a good spot for surfing. Guess that explains why we're the only two out here.” I laughed.

“It's all good.” Marcel centered himself on his board and damn near teetered off. “I'm cool just being out here, you know? Reminds me of how small I am. And it's quiet…”

The way he trailed off like he was lost in thought made me take notice.

“Opposed to the screaming fans?”

He chuckled. “And the constant ringing of the phone, the doorbell, the clicks and flashes of cameramen, the whispering in my ear by every person I've ever known in the industry who has considered themselves to be my mentor. It's a lot.”

“That's because you're a superstar.”

He sighed. “So they tell me.” A plane flew overhead, dragging an aerial advertising banner behind it, and Marcel looked up, following its path. “Out here, I'm just an imperceptible speck of dust.”

“Is the fame too much for you to handle?” I had to ask because a client with spotlight issues and an MIA tendency was a risk to take on. If he thought the attention was bad now, what would come down the line once I was done blowing him up even further would hit him like a nuclear explosion.