MATCHMAKER (A Billionaire Bad Boy Romance) (23 page)

“Besides freaking out on some guy in the bathroom and being unable to focus on anything but getting the hell out of there, my day was great,” I seethed.

“That bad, huh? Are your days always like this?”

“Lately.”

“Well, that’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” she replied with that same, beautiful smile that reminded me so much of Sophia.

“You know, when you smile like that, you remind me of someone.”

“It’s a type of transference,” she said.

“Oh. I thought it was just a coincidence.” I rolled my eyes.

“Not many people are familiar with therapy terms, so I thought I’d let you know,” she replied. “Who do I look like?”

“My ex-wife,” I said, my voice tightening as it always did when I mentioned her. “When she was younger. The two of you could be twins.”

She looked… excited by this? But then her professional demeanor returned. I could read people. That’s why I was a good businessman, and this woman was definitely trying to conceal her adoration of me. I wanted to push the limits.

“I like you in that outfit,” I said. “And the glasses are a nice touch.”

She straightened and cleared her throat in a business-like manner. I thought it was cute. “If we are going to work together, you’ll have to respect my boundaries. Though I am aware that you are attracted to me, I need you to know that it is nothing more than a type of transference, and you cannot express inappropriate things toward me,” she said like a little psychology robot.

“Okay, Doc. Deal.”

“Again, I am not a doctor. I am working on my doctorate, though,” she informed.

“Must get expensive. I could offer you a loan,” I hinted.

“So what happened today, in the bathroom?” She was good at ignoring my hints.

“Some new hire came in. I don’t even remember hiring him. Everything has been hazy for the longest time. He was in the bathroom with me. I was so jumpy, and when I saw him behind me in the mirror I nearly socked him in the face,” I informed her, unable to meet her eyes.

“No need to be embarrassed. People who experienced trauma often have flashbacks and do things like this. It’s nothing new.”

“I thought I had special trauma,” I mocked. “When are you going to fix me? I need to tell Fiona.”

She laughed, and I melted a little inside again. “Therapy doesn’t work like that, Mr. Carson.”

“For the right price, I’m sure it can.” I winked.

“No. Not for the right price. It’s an organic process, one that involves your brain. Unless you can magically wipe your brain, there will be no bullshit here,” she replied.

“Do you know anyone who can wipe my brain?” I asked. She looked at me, icy. I recoiled.

“Has it ever occurred to you that it’s okay to need help?”

“Help is for people who can’t help themselves, and I always can.”

“Then why are you here?” she asked.

“Because of Fiona. She’s driving me crazy,” I said, lying. I didn’t want her to know about my business blunders. It was too mortifying.

“Tell me more about that,” Katie said. She took a deep breath and looked around the room. Was she uncomfortable? Jealous?

“I haven’t been myself lately, apparently. I’m not the man she fell in love with,” I said, being honest this time.

“Go on,” Katie said, her voice a bit more strained now. She really was having a hard time with this.

I took a deep breath and continued. “She’s constantly on me about investing. She wants more and more and more.”

“Do you feel she isn’t grateful?”

“No, it’s not that... It’s just that she needs so much of me. And some part of me likes it. But sometimes, I just want to rent a room somewhere and leave. Like I did the night the attack happened.”

“Do you blame her?”

I paused, reflecting. “Maybe a little. I mean, if she hadn’t been ragging on me all night, I would have gone home.”

“What does she ‘rag on you’ about?”

“Money. And she accuses me of cheating. Mind you, I have a wild past, but when I’m with a woman, I am faithful. I don’t see the point in not being faithful. If I wanted multiple partners, I could find a partner who is okay with that. Truthfully, I’m not okay with that, either,” I said. Although her face didn’t change, I sensed a hint of surprise. “Does that surprise you? It does that to a lot of people.”

“No. As a counselor, you learn not to judge or follow preconceived notions.”

“Sounds like business,” I replied.

“I can see you’re avoiding this subject, and I respect that. But the first step to fixing a problem is to face it—to face that it was difficult, and that you went through a lot. It’s a process, but you first have to acknowledge it.”

“I mean… I can admit that I haven’t been the same since it happened. I know that.”

She smiled. “Good.” I slipped some of my Xanax out and began chewing it.

“You’re not supposed to chew those.”

“I wasn’t supposed to be the type of person who took medication either, but here I am,” I replied, the bitter taste of the pills on my tongue.

“You’re not driving, correct?”

“No. I’m being picked up, as usual,” I informed her.

“So, what is your issue with medication?” You said before that you weren’t on any, Katie asked.

“I didn’t want to admit it. And like I said before, I pride myself on being strong. I don’t like to use a crutch.”

She sighed. “Medication isn’t a crutch. Sometimes, it just saves you time until the therapy kicks in.”

“Well, before the attack, I’d have to be kicking and screaming before I’d let someone shove pills down my throat. Now, I have to use them just to get through the day,” I said honestly.

She had a pained expression on her face, and she reached for her notebook to scrawl something down.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she replied, her voice wavering. Was she about to cry?

“I didn’t mean to make you get your panties in a bunch, Doc,” I joked.

As soon as I said this, her face became cool and icy again.

“What you’re experiencing is normal, and there is nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, it takes
strength
to admit that you need help,” she said, her voice soft and filled with caring and tenderness.

“Do you say that to everyone on pills?”

She shook her head. “No. I mean it.”

“You think I’m strong?”

“Very,” she said, a twinkle in her eye. “But healing takes time. Speaking of time, our session is about up. We will carry on with this conversation next week.”

“Do you have any other sessions after this?” I asked.

“No. Why?”

“Well, I was wondering if maybe we could grab some dinner. I didn’t eat enough today, and I’m sure you could use the help with food since you won’t let me give you a loan for school,” I said.

“I could go and eat with you, but it would be platonic. And I would pay for my own food. If you can respect that, I can go,” she said, but I couldn’t help but notice her fooling around with her necklace and a blush come across her cheeks. She was so damn sexy.

“Whatever you say, Doc. I know just the place.” I had no intention of her paying for her own food, and every intention of wooing her. “The place is a bit out of the way, so I’ll call my driver.”

“No, really—you don’t have to do that.”

“I either ride with my driver—which is in a car I picked out and which lives up to my specifications—or I ride in style. It’s not about you, dear,” I said as sincerely as I could.

She nodded, looking quite youthful suddenly. In this light, she looked very young—not a day over twenty-one. I could see she was still not used to the city. It was in the way she walked and spoke. I could sense the same when people from far away came to the Big Apple to make a business deal. I know who belonged. She didn’t belong here yet, but I was certain, with maturity and fierceness, she would.

The limo arrived, and she sat a safe distance from me.

“Where to, Mr. Carson?” the driver asked.

“The Tempest Grille,” I said. “Pronto.”

“The seat is so warm,” she said.

“They’re called seat warmers,” I teased.

“I know that. Just not used to it.” She spoke coolly, folding her pretty hands in her lap like a perfect lady.

She kept her eyes focused straight ahead. Her hair had come a bit undone from the wind. Her elegant cheekbones looked gorgeous and sharp, and her long, pretty neck was intoxicating. I wanted to lean over and feast upon it, but she leaned the other way, almost a bit too much. Like she was too aware of me.

She looked at me. Our eyes met. I could tell, even in the dark, that she was beginning to lose her professional composure.

“What?” she snapped.

“Nothing,” I replied. I looked forward and smiled.

We got to the restaurant. As usual, there was a big line. I ignored it and walked to the front. People stood back, gaping at me. They all knew who I was.

“Aren’t we waiting?” she asked. That was cute. How considerate.

“I own this restaurant,” I said.

“Oh,” she muttered, a bit taken aback.

“Well, at least in the sense that I pay someone to control it for me, who then pays someone to manage it. But it’s essentially mine. If I wanted to close it down, all I would have to do is walk up to one of those motherfuckers and say it’s over.”

“Ah.” I could tell she didn’t have a clue what the fuck I was talking about, but it added more to her charm.

We sat in the best seat in the house overlooking the Empire State Building. The waitresses bustled over to me, handing us gold-plated menus. Katie looked around dreamily, looking so young again. She took her glasses off and wiped them on her napkin, almost as if to make sure this was really happening.

“When you get your doctorate, you’ll get used to going to places like this,” I said. “By the way, do you like red or white wine?”

“Red. Thank you.”

“So tell me more about your degree.” I sat closer to her than was normal. In this environment, I was the king again. She looked at me, and to my surprise, allowed my proximity.

“It’s a Psy.D. Kinda like an MD. I don’t want to do research. I want to distinguish myself as a counselor,” she said.

“You know, I always had respect for educated people. If I were smart enough, I would have gotten a doctorate. But I’m real—I’m smart enough to get what I need done, smart enough to know people—but I ain’t nothing special up here,” I said, pointing to my skull.

“You seem, at least, above average,” she said, grinning. “Have you ever had a formal IQ test done?”

“No. Can I?” I played along.

“Yes, I can test you,” she said, smiling.

Our dinner arrived. She had ordered a modest salad. I got two appetizers in response so she could share some. If there was anything I knew, it was how to charm a woman into enjoying herself.

“Sophia could read me pretty well, too,” I said.

“Really?” She wiped her mouth with a napkin. I noticed her glass was almost empty. I took it gently from her soft hand, letting mine linger on hers. Just the feeling of her skin made my groin swell. It was so soft.

I had her. I knew it. Her response was to recoil, to excuse herself to the bathroom. I waited for her, my eyes never leaving hers as she walked back, a new shade of pale lipstick applied. Yes, I definitely had her. But she was a fighter. Making her my conquest was not going to be easy. Not a sexual conquest, but an emotional one. I had no intent of cheating on Fiona, but I couldn’t deny the spell this woman had cast upon me.

“The food is great,” she complimented.

“Thanks. I had to sample all of it. It was a hell of a job.”

“You like to take care of people, don’t you? I can tell.”

“Yes.”

“But has it ever occurred to you that maybe you need to let someone take care of you for once?”

I took a huge swig of wine. “Why do you have to play these psychological games?” I grunted.

“I’m not. I’m just asking. I think it’s a part of your problem. Why?”

“Because it’s weakness. That’s why. Letting someone take care of you is weakness.”

“So I’m being weak right now?”

Fuck. She’s good at this.
“No. That’s different,” I countered.

“Why?” she asked.

I didn’t have an answer. “It doesn’t have to make sense. I just feel so damn weird when people try to take care of me. I always did with Sophia.”

“Does Fiona do it, too?”

“No. That’s what I like about her. She wants me to take care of her, always,” I said.

“I’m sure that’s a lot of pressure. Perhaps we should have her in the next session.” Katie looked thoughtful.

“She’d be into that,” I said.

“Okay.” She toasted me. “Deal.”

“Under one condition,” I said, turning to her. We were close now, almost close enough to kiss. I lingered—and she stayed, eyes wide, staring at me with those gorgeous brown eyes. I felt I’d known them for a damn lifetime. I breathed deeply, almost losing myself in her scent—a natural, womanly scent. “You have to let me pay a little extra. To help with school.”