you’d want to meet alone in a dark alley, though maybe a dark bedroom...
The thought surprised her, and she felt a rush of heat to her face, glad Jack had his back to her so he couldn’t wonder what was making her blush. He folded his arms across his chest, a posture of confrontation and protection. “Put your hands down by your sides,” she suggested. “And close your eyes.”
“Aren’t you going to swing a pendulum or a watch or something in front of my eyes?” he asked.
“That’s not the approach I use. I prefer something called progressive relaxation.”
“Is that the same as hypnosis?”
“It’s a way of readying your body for hypnotic suggestion. Now, close your eyes and focus on your toes.”
“My toes?”
“Agent Prescott, if you’re going to question every instruction I give, this isn’t going to work.”
“Sorry. I’ll focus on my toes.”
“Relax your toes. Now focus on your ankles.” She made her voice as low and soothing as possible. “Imagine a warm wave of relaxation moving up your legs, from your toes and feet to your ankles and then your calves and knees. Your body feels very comfortable and heavy, the muscles completely relaxed. The sensation moves up your thighs to your torso. Every bit of tension is leaving your body. Each vertebra of your spine relaxes, one by one. You’re feeling very heavy and languid.”
She continued the journey up his body, instructing him to relax his shoulders and arms and hands. “How are you feeling?” she asked.
“Fine.” His voice was clear and alert, his posture still as stiff as if he were standing for inspection.
“Think of someplace pleasant and relaxing,” she said. “A mountain meadow with a waterfall or a beautiful beach with ocean waves rolling in. Choose whatever place you like to go to relax.”
“Okay.”
“What are you thinking of?” she asked.
“The gym.”
She blinked. “The gym?”
“Working out relaxes me.”
That explained those impressive shoulders and biceps. “That kind of relaxation is a little too active. What about vacations? Do you like to go to the beach? Or to a lake in the mountains.”
“The last vacation I took, Gus and I and some other guys went hiking. We climbed a mountain.”
She could imagine—all macho competitiveness: heavy packs, miles logged, not bathing or shaving for days, eating food out of cans. She shuddered. “I don’t think this is going to work,” she said.
He sat up. “Let’s try again. Do the thing with the pendulum. I think I would do better if I had something to focus on.”
She hesitated, but if he left here, she would feel she had failed him. She reached up and unclasped the necklace she wore—a gold chain with a gold heart-shaped locket. An anniversary gift from Preston a few months before he died. “Sit back and relax as much as you can,” she said.
Jack settled back against the sofa, his gaze fixed on the necklace. “Focus on the heart,” she said, and began to gently swing the locket from side to side. “As you focus, count back slowly, from ninety-nine.”
“Ninety-nine,” he said. “Ninety-eight. Ninety-seven.”
She shifted her own gaze from the locket to Jack and found herself staring directly into his gold-green eyes. The naked pain and vulnerability revealed in his gaze startled her so much she almost dropped the necklace. He took her hand. “Please. You have to help me.”
His grip was strong and warm but not painful. Far from it. His touch sent warmth coursing through her, as if someone had injected heated platelets into her bloodstream. The heat settled in her lower abdomen, reminding her in a way she hadn’t been reminded in many months that she was a woman with a very attractive, virile man touching her. She carefully extricated her hand, which still tingled from the contact. “I want to help you, Agent Prescott,” she said. “But the mind is the most complicated machine imaginable. There isn’t a formula or solution to solve every problem.”
The clock on her desk chimed and she glanced at it. “I’m afraid our session today is over, but I hope you will make an appointment to see me again.”
He looked away, frustration clear in the tension along his jaw and the defensive set of his shoulders. “Do you really think it would help me remember Gus’s killer?”
“I can’t promise you will ever remember what you saw the day your friend was killed,” she said. “But I can help you come to terms with what happened.”
“Maybe I’ll come back,” he said.
“I really do think it would help you to talk to someone,” she said. “Not only about Gus, but about your own injuries. Being forced into medical leave must be difficult for you.”
He looked startled, his eyes locked to hers once more. “The other team members kidded me, said I should enjoy the paid vacation. But it’s driving me crazy knowing Gus’s killer is out there and I’m not doing anything to help stop him.”
“That’s something we can talk about the next time you’re in.” She stood, and he rose also and followed her to the door.
“Do you have another client now?” he asked.
“No, it’s time for my lunch break.”
He checked his watch, a heavy stainless model she recognized as designed for mountaineers and other outdoorsmen. “Let me take you to lunch. I want to make up for wasting your time this morning.”
Her heart sped up at the prospect of being alone with him in a nonclinical setting. “Agent Prescott, I don’t think—”
“Call me Jack. And I just want to talk. Not therapy talk, just, you know, conversation. I’m bored out of my skull not working, and I don’t know many people in Durango. Not outside of work, anyway. You seem like you’d be good company, that’s all.”
She should say no. Professional ethics aside—and really, there was nothing unethical about having lunch with a client—spending more time with Jack was dangerous to her equilibrium. He was exactly the type of man who attracted her most—powerful, dedicated, intelligent and virile. And all those traits made him the worst sort of man for her to be with.
But the temptation to sit across from him and learn more of his story, to have his attention fixed on her for a little while longer, won out over common sense. “All right,” she said. “I can have lunch with you.”
* * *
SITTING ACROSS FROM Dr. Andrea McNeil in a café down the street from her office, Jack felt better than he had since the shoot-out. Maybe it was being with a pretty woman. He hadn’t dated in a while and she was definitely a looker—her businesslike blue suit did nothing to hide her shapely figure, and her high-heeled boots showed her gorgeous legs to advantage. Her sleek brown hair was piled up on top of her
