JR (2 page)

Foster’s office.

“Come in.”

She nudged open the door to his workspace then turned to guide it closed, eliminating the risk of anyone overhearing her outlandish request. Resisting the urge to make up a lame excuse and duck back out, she scanned his inner office then took a wary step forward.

The area was spacious but comfortable. Soft incandescent light emanated from lamps positioned around the room. The warm illumination made the space seem intimate for its size. Plush carpet covered the floor and substantial masculine furniture in rich jewel tones clustered to facilitate group conversation.

Dr. Foster had designed the soothing atmosphere to encourage his patients to relax during their sometimes intense sessions. The innovative psychologist specialized in relationship therapy and sexual repression issues while holding a distinguished position here at Elembreth University, where he both taught and maintained a small clinic.

“Rebecca, is there something I can do for you?” Kurt—no, Dr. Foster—asked. She kept slipping lately.

“Yes, Doctor. First, while you met with Dr. Malone, Mrs. Henderson came in.”

“Damn. Is Jim screwing around on her again?” Dr. Foster cared for each of his patients on a personal level.

She admired the fact that he didn’t need case notes to remember the details of their situations.

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Tell her to come in. Luke was my last appointment for the day, I can see her right now.”

Rebecca hesitated. Would he be angry she’d overstepped her place by talking with Mrs. Henderson? His displeasure would make her offer even harder to make.

“Actually, she’s gone now. She requested a session with me instead.”

“About time.” He didn’t seem the least bit concerned.

“You don’t care that I met alone with one of your patients?”

“Of course not. You’re ready for this, Rebecca. You’ve put six years into your residency here at the clinic.

You did have your last exam today didn’t you?”

She nodded.

“Since you’re my best student, I know you aced it. Therefore, waiting for your degree on graduation day is a formality. You’re a well-qualified therapist. Mrs. Henderson is one of my more dramatic patients. How did you feel dealing with her radical emotions alone?”

“I did as you’ve taught me. I listened actively with compassion, then worked the case by giving feedback on what I heard, provided the statistics of cheating husbands, supplied her with resources for local support groups and talked her through how to find help if she chooses to divorce him.”

“Sometimes it takes more than facts and methodology to heal someone’s heart. But for your first time flying solo, it sounds like you did very well.”

Pride swept over her. She’d worked her ass off for this. His approval meant more than the piece of paper that would bestow her official title.

And his sexy smile made an excellent reward.

Dr. Foster could make a blind woman do a double take. In his mid thirties, he had slight laugh lines crinkled around his dark grey eyes. Their stormy depths contradicted his inviting personality, which enhanced his charm and made her curious about what lay beneath his enigmatic surface.

Standing over six feet tall, he towered above her. His height and lean but powerful build combined with his wavy black hair, which he kept long enough to graze his shirt collar, to give him a dangerous edge. It caught her off balance at odd moments during the day when her overactive imagination insisted she’d caught him staring at her.

To Rebecca, his psychical perfection was only a fraction of what made him attractive. Touted as the genius of his field, he had risen to his prestige early, though with some controversy. His opponents argued against his sometimes-extreme methods but, based on his record-smashing success rates and the rave reviews of his patients, they had conceded his superiority in the field.

His drive and passion for helping others outshone his piercing eyes in her estimation. The gentle care and devotion he lavished on his patients when assisting them in resolving their issues had made him her idol.

A million tiny things along the way had gradually shaped her case of professional infatuation into a deep caring for the man behind the doctor. From his easygoing personality, to his effortless problem solving and the natural insight he had into the way people wanted to be treated, Rebecca admitted her attraction to him had never been stronger.

Which made him perfect for her proposition.

“Your respect means a lot to me, Dr. Foster.”

“You’ve earned it.”

“Well, then, I also wanted to inquire about the ad for an experiment subject you assigned me to place in the paper.”

“Um…the ad?” For a moment he looked lost, as if he had no clue what she referred to. Before she could clarify, he recovered then asked, “Is there something wrong with it?”

Rebecca paused, gathering her courage before answering. “No. That’s not what I meant.”

Last chance, Rebecca. Say it or leave.

“I’m interested in participating in the study myself and wondered if volunteering would be against office policy.”

He blinked, not responding immediately to her statement, so she continued. She’d gathered her facts in anticipation of convincing him.

“You have a very competitive fee listed here but, no matter how much money is offered, finding volunteers for this type of personal, sensitive experiment is often a long and painful process. In the six years I’ve worked here, I know of eight promising studies left untried due to lack of willing participants. We both know no amount of theory will substitute for praxis.”

If she could assist in Dr. Foster’s experiment, she could repay some of the selflessness he’d shown her as a mentor. Her arguments seemed to work. He leaned forward, setting aside the case folder he’d been reviewing.

He cupped his chin, a gesture she’d come to recognize as his thinking posture, while he studied her across his expansive mahogany desk. She tried not to shift but failed beneath the weight of his stare.

What did he see when he looked at her?

Compared to the elegant, tailored suit conforming to the defined lines of his torso and great ass, her bargain-bin outfit must seem frumpy at best. Fancy clothes didn’t make the cut in her student’s budget but she made sure to dress professionally, if not always fashionably.

For a moment, they assessed each other.

Rebecca couldn’t help but note the way his unruly hair feathered across his brow in contrast to the neatness of everything else in the room. When the silence stretched a little longer than comfort allowed, Rebecca’s uncertainty grew. She began to stammer.

“I understand. You know, if it’s not okay for me to participate. I just thought it might be hard for you to find subjects or something.”
God, this is unbelievable!
She was an articulate researcher used to communicating detailed observations but she couldn’t form a simple sentence around him sometimes.

Dr. Foster smiled up at her. Rather than soothing her nerves, the expression filled her with desire and fuddled her mind further. The edges of his full mouth turned up until she glimpsed his brilliant white teeth. The thrill of anticipation his wicked grin caused reminded her of the way a mouse might feel right before a hungry cat gobbled it for a snack.

Why didn’t he say anything? This had to work. The study could solve several problems all at once.

Efficiency appealed to her.

“Have a seat, Rebecca.” His careful, modulated voice gave no indication of his acceptance or refusal as he gestured to the heavy wingback chair in front of his desk. When she perched on the edge, with her back straight and ankles crossed tight beneath her, he continued. “There’s no rule against staff participation so long as you are fully informed of the requirements and demands of the experiment. Though, I have to admit, I don’t know if you’re right for my study.”

Her stomach pitched at his reservation. She had to get this assignment. Stoically, she sat still as a statue while he took his time observing her reaction. If he wished to gauge her commitment, he wouldn’t find a crack in her resolve.

“My research will get quite personal. I’d need you to be open and honest with me in order for the trial to be successful.”

Rebecca hid a blush, recalling the times she’d copied over notes for the doctor’s case files. Although she’d tried to concentrate on typing the erotic words scrawled in his hasty masculine script, she couldn’t quite block out the detailed stories recounted to him by successful patients on follow-up visits.

Most of them had required standard treatment involving discussion and counseling but, on occasion, a case called for a more unconventional approach. The doctor had been known to observe couples having difficulty in order to provide objective, real-time feedback—witnessing an experience, he contended, neither party could be objective about relating in a traditional session.

“I can handle it, Doctor,” she said, not quite able to confront his steely gaze.

“Rebecca, I’m not trying to dissuade you. However, I need to be frank just as I would be with any other candidate. The study will test a new invention I’ve created. I believe the Dream Machine has the potential to revolutionize the field of sexual therapy. There are so many people who live their lives without realizing their sensual potential because they’re too afraid to tear down the boundaries imposed by society and be free enough to experience what they desire.”

As he explained, it seemed as if he spoke of her instead of a generality. Did he suspect her underlying reason for volunteering? Her face flushed and she hoped he couldn’t detect the telling reaction in the diffused lighting. Somehow, she knew he did. After all, he was a trained observer, noted for his attention to detail.

“My invention taps into subconscious desires by capturing dreams. During the study, I’d monitor your REM cycles using the device then discuss your fantasies with you. Are you prepared to do that with me?”

Rebecca shifted in his desk chair, which engulfed her, while she contemplated the ramifications of participating. Trying to still the subtle hints of her trepidation, she met his gaze head on.

“Yes, Doctor, I think I can.” Shame flooded her when the simple thought of revealing her fantasies to Kurt began to arouse her. Personal feelings shouldn’t be involved in a professional proposition but, from the first day she’d worked at Dr. Foster’s office, she’d battled a dazzling attraction. She gripped the black leather arm rest to keep from fanning her face. Moisture gathered between her legs to serve as indisputable proof. Instead of being mortified, she admitted she’d wanted him for so long that this would be a welcome relief.

She hungered for the things he could teach her.

“There’s one more thing. I’d need to monitor and influence your arousal level both during the dream stages and during our sessions. This will involve significant intimate physical contact between us. Can you agree to the terms of the experiment?”

“I… I…” The scientist in her wanted to ask for more details but the woman in her was too reserved. She’d been with a few men, boys really, during the first years of college but the brief liaisons hadn’t resulted in anything momentous. She’d done it to ease her innate curiosity. None of the encounters had been satisfying.

Besides, she’d been much too busy studying and working to spend time on needless pursuits. To be completely honest with herself, she conceded no one but Kurt had ever held her interest.

Afraid she might not live up to his expectations, she hesitated. A vision of him touching her, bringing her pleasure with his skilled hands, overtook her imagination. What if she wasn’t all Dr. Foster required? What if her capability to experience passion fell far below the level of normal desire? Her unease hung in the air as the pause lengthened.

Kurt sighed.

“Becca, it’s all right if you’ve changed your mind. I understand if you can’t do this. I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do.” The supportive words couldn’t mask the disappointment resonating in his voice.

The fact that he’d called her by her nickname, a name her mother and sister used, made his assurance cut to a more personal level. She recognized it as another test of their evolving relationship.

Instead of confessing her deeper reasons, she took the easy way out.

“No, Doctor, I want to participate. And…well, I need the money right now.” It embarrassed her to admit it.

He compensated her well and she didn’t want to seem ungrateful or careless with her finances. But, even if she did, that was easier than admitting how desperately she wanted him to tutor her on more than clinical depression or the scientific method.

“My sister is coming to the university next year. This morning we were notified of an administrative error in the financial aid office. The scholarship funds were overdrawn and hers got cut. If I don’t do this, Elsa can’t enroll.” Rebecca hated to admit her need for assistance. Her pride rebelled.

“This isn’t about
money
, is it?” Though he sounded reluctant to ask her, his eyes seemed almost angry.

Afraid she had made him uncomfortable, she worried he might dismiss her as a participant because of his inherent morality. “I’m more than willing to give you an advance on your salary instead. You can always come to me for help.”

“No!” she protested, a little too loud for the quiet intimacy of the office. She’d have to give him more of the truth to assure his acceptance. “I want to help you. You’ve supported me for years. Without you, I’d never have learned so much. I want to do this as a favor.”

“You don’t owe me anything. You’re hands down the best assistant I’ve ever worked with. Having you here has been my pleasure.” His sentiment seemed sincere. Slight dimples accentuated his cheeks when he smiled. Every time she saw them, it spawned an insane urge to lick the delicious indentations. Reining in her impulse, she focused on their discussion.