On Monday morning, Rachel spoke to the closed closet door in her office. “Only three more minutes, Mr. Kasper.”
“I can’t breathe,” shouted a panicky voice from inside the closet. “I’ve got to get out of here!”
“Take slow, deep breaths,” she replied in a calm, soothing tone. “Close your eyes and envision a safe place. Distract yourself by imagining you’re in a cocoon.”
“All right,” came his shaky voice from the closet. “I’ll…t…t…try.”
“I know you can do this, Mr. Kasper.” Rachel kept her fingers crossed. Jonathan Kasper was a new patient of hers, but he had been coming to the Craig Clinic for years.
A short, balding man on the brink of retirement, he and his wife had big plans to travel around the world.
The only problem was he suffered severe attacks of claustrophobia every time he got on an airplane. He’d been making wonderful progress conquering his problem these past few weeks, but the acclimation phase was the most difficult part.
She glanced at her watch. This session was almost over and her new patient was due to arrive soon. Then she’d be free for a late lunch before the rest of her afternoon appointments.
She had a healthy salad waiting in the clinic lunch room, but there was a chocolate bar in the lobby vending machine calling her name.
Her office door cracked open, accompanied by a light knock.
“Yes?” she said, looking toward the door.
“Excuse me,” intoned a deep, masculine voice. “There wasn’t anyone at the reception desk. I’m looking for a Dr. Grant.”
“You found her,” she said as the door opened wider.
Then a cowboy stepped inside like he’d just walked off a movie set. He stood at least six four with a killer smile, the deepest blue eyes she’d ever seen, and dark whiskers shading his square jaw.
“You’re Dr. Grant?” His brow furrowed as he swept off his chocolate-brown Stetson and held it in one broad hand.
She smiled at the note of surprise in his voice. Maybe he wasn’t expecting a woman. The clinic, started by renowned therapist, Dr. Roger Craig, had recently offered partnerships to three independent psychologists, including her.
“Yes, I’m Dr. Grant. And you are?”
“Your one o’clock appointment,” he said. “I might be a bit early.”
Her impotency case.
Rachel cleared her throat and took a deep breath, trying to hide her surprise. She was expecting someone older and less…magnetic.
But she knew better than anyone that appearances could be deceiving. And since she’d never had an impotency case before, she wasn’t about to let this one get away. She put everything else out of her mind except making him comfortable.
“Welcome,” she said, extending her hand toward him with an encouraging smile. “And your name is?”
“I’m Hank,” he replied, clasping her hand in his big, warm callused one. A tingle shot through her arm as he gently squeezed her fingers.
His cocky, self-assured smile surprised her. She hadn’t expected a man with such an easy, confident air.
On the outside he was built like a football lineman, with a handsome, square-jawed face and those heart-stopping blue eyes. But underneath that delectable exterior probably lay a sexually frustrated cowboy.
She could hardly wait to get her hands on him. Figuratively speaking.
Then she remembered that someone else had made that appointment for him, according to Steven, the clinic’s receptionist. His mother? Brother? Girlfriend?
Her smile turned sympathetic as she realized her mistake. The confidence he exuded was probably a cover for the insecure man-child inside. The poor guy had even been too embarrassed to make the appointment himself. So better for her to take it slow and let him bring up his reason for being here.
“This is a little awkward,” he began. “I’m not sure where to start…”
“Why don’t we just take some time to get acquainted first?” She steered him toward the sofa. “That will make both of us more comfortable.”
He sat down on the sofa and looked around the office. “I’ve never been to a place like this before.”
“I hope it’s not too scary,” she said with a smile, walking over to the coffee station she kept in the corner of the room.
“I don’t scare that easily.”
So he liked playing the tough guy. That was called compensating.
“Please, just relax. I know why you’re here,” she said gently, “and I admire your courage in talking about something like this with a total stranger.”
She hadn’t expected a man so young, so attractive, so outwardly virile. The paradox intrigued her. He might make an interesting case study for the psychology book she wanted to write someday. Of course, she’d make certain his identity remained anonymous.
“Would you like a cup of coffee?” she asked, still sensing an air of uneasiness about him.
“Sure,” he said, settling back against the sofa cushion with a slight wince.
Rachel kept her gaze on him as she picked up the coffee pot. “Are you all right?”
“It’s nothing.” He set his cowboy hat on the table beside him. “I just got banged up a bit yesterday working cattle.”
He seemed determined to impress her. To prove his manliness. But he didn’t need to convince her, he needed to convince himself. Impotency had nothing to do with masculinity or toughness.
Neither of them said a word as she poured the hot coffee into a white ceramic mug, although she could feel his steady gaze fixed on her. She blamed the fiery blush in her cheeks on the steam rising out of the coffee pot. “Do you take sugar or cream?”
“No, black is just fine.”
“Shall I go first?” she asked, walking over to hand him the mug.
“Sure.”
She sat in an armchair across from the sofa and kicked off her heels. Then she tucked her legs underneath her, unaware of the way her gray silk skirt rode up her thighs until she caught him staring at her legs.
“Hank? Are you with me?”
“What?” He looked up. “Oh. Right. Sure, go ahead.”
Rachel cleared her throat. “Well, I grew up in Philly and attended Penn State University. That’s where I got my master’s degree in clinical psychology. Then I moved to Texas two years ago and earned my doctorate through North Texas University.”
She hesitated, uncertain if she should relate more personal information. It seemed the least she could do, since he was about to divulge his most intimate secrets to her.
“I’m thirty-two years old and happily single,” she continued. “Which still seems to shock my family. I collect antiques, and I am seriously thinking about getting a dog.” Her life didn’t sound too exciting, although he seemed quite interested. He leaned forward on the sofa, watching her intently as he sipped his coffee.
Time to get down to business.
“Are you single or married, Hank?”
“I’m single and like it that way.”
She nodded. At least he didn’t have to suffer from performance anxiety on a regular basis. “Do you date much?”
“Not as much as I’d like. I’ve been pretty busy with work these past few months.”
“What do you do for a living?”
“I’m a country veterinarian, although I have quite a few small animal clients in Pine City too.”
Rachel nodded. “Do you find yourself more comfortable with animals than people? Especially women? Is that why you’ve been avoiding more intimate relationships?”
He scowled. “I haven’t been avoiding anything.”
She leaned forward. “It’s very natural, in our sessions, to be defensive at first. But I think you’ll find it more helpful to be reflective. To listen, instead of instantly reacting. And take time to really think about what I’m saying to see if it might resonate with you.”
He sat there for a long moment; his skeptical gaze locked on her. At last he said, “I. Haven’t. Been. Avoiding. Anything.”
Hmm, she needed to take a different approach. Men like Hank didn’t react well to a soft touch—he wanted to battle. “Okay, let me ask you another question.”
“Shoot,” he said, taking a long sip of his coffee.
“Do you suffer from premature ejaculation?”
He spit coffee halfway across the room. “What?”
“I know impotency and sexual dysfunction are very sensitive subjects,” she said quickly, watching as Hank reared up off the sofa, “but it’s better to face them head-on.”
He slammed the mug on the coffee table “I don’t think you understand, lady.”
“Doctor.”
“Okay, Doctor. I came here to talk about something else. Something else entirely.”
“Hank, listen…”
“Doctor,” he corrected her. “Dr. Hank Holden.”
“Doctor,” she said, trying to hide her smile. Expressing his anger was a good sign and the first step to digging into the rest of his deeply buried emotions.
Yes, he would make an excellent subject to study for her future book. And as she watched him start to pace, stalking back and forth like a caged animal, a possible title popped into her mind: Feral Men and the People Who Love Them.
“We can talk about whatever you’d like,” she said, hoping to calm him. “I’m here to help you. Impotence can often be a complex problem, so there are many layers to probe. Once the physical reasons have been ruled out, we can turn to more intensive therapy.”
He stopped pacing and stared at her, the color draining from his face. “I don’t need any therapy or probing. Intensive or otherwise.”
Rachel swallowed. She had the distinct feeling she wasn’t handling this as well as she’d hoped. “It can be very beneficial in cases like yours…”
“Hold it,” he insisted. “There is no case. I only came here because of your friends…”
“What?” Rachel suddenly realized she’d been wrong. This man didn’t suffer from a lack of confidence. Just the opposite, in fact.
And she suddenly had a nagging suspicion he didn’t suffer from impotency, either.
The closet door suddenly crashed open, shaking the walls in her small office. Hank whirled around and barreled toward Mr. Kasper.
“Wait!” Rachel cried.
But it was too late. Hank tackled the older man to the ground. Mr. Kasper let out a gasp of surprise as his back end hit the carpeted floor and Hank pinned the man’s shoulders to the ground.
“Let go of him!” Rachel demanded. “What are you doing?”
“Saving you,” Hank snapped. “Now call the police.”
“Can I just go back in the closet?” Mr. Kasper asked, his face pale and dripping with sweat. Then he looked up at Hank and did a double take. “Dr. Holden? Well, my goodness, this is a surprise.”
Hank’s fierce expression relaxed and he helped Mr. Kasper to his feet. “Sorry about that, Jon. I didn’t recognize you without your Texas Rangers cap on.”
“No problem,” Jon said, brushing himself off.
Rachel hurried toward the older man. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Kasper. Are you all right?”
“I think I’m good. It got pretty hot in that closet.” Then he grinned, mopping his damp brow with his white handkerchief. “Sounds like it got pretty hot out here, too.”
She vigorously fanned him with a mental health journal, mortified that she’d neglected one of her patients. “I can’t believe you stayed in there for so long.”
“I think I’m cured,” he announced. “You were right about finding a distraction, Dr. Grant.” He rubbed his hands together. “Yes, indeed. That makes all the difference in the world.”
She swallowed. “Mr. Kasper, you realize that anything you might have overheard between Dr. Holden and I is strictly confidential. He’s a patient of mine…”
“I am not your patient,” Hank countered, before she could explain any further.
Mr. Kasper shook out the limp handkerchief and then stuffed it in his pocket. “So that means the confidentiality rules don’t apply?”
She opened her mouth, but Hank answered first. “Of course not. I’ve never even met Dr. Grant before today. And this is the first time I’ve ever been in a therapist’s office in my life.”
Mr. Kasper lifted his orange Longhorns jacket off the coatrack. “Well, I’ve got to run. I can’t wait to tell Thelma all about my day.”
Rachel struggled to maintain her composure. “I’m sure your wife will be thrilled you’ve finally overcome your claustrophobia.”
Mr. Kasper grinned. “Yes, that, too.” He zipped up his jacket as he headed for the door. Then he turned to Hank. “And don’t worry, Doc, I’ll make certain the paper doesn’t print anything about…” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Your little problem.”
After he left, Hank slowly turned to face her. “The paper? What exactly did he mean by that?”
She folded her arms across her chest, deriving a certain satisfaction from his stricken expression. “Didn’t you know Mr. Kasper’s sister-in-law is Midge Berman? She writes the daily gossip column for the Pine City Herald and recently became the host of a local talk show called Pine City People.”
He closed his eyes. “I don’t believe it.”
“I tried to warn you.” She experienced a twinge of remorse. “I’m sorry. I completely forgot he was in there.”
His eyes flew open. “How could you possibly forget a man in your closet?”
Not certain of the answer herself, she shrugged. When Hank had walked into her office, all her common sense seemed to have vanished. “I know why you’re really here.”
“You do?”
She nodded. “My friends have been worried about me because I’ve been getting odd, unsigned letters in the mail. The letters are benign, but I understand their concern. For some reason, they think I need to have a man in my life to protect me—or save me, as you so aptly put it.”
When Hank didn’t deny it, she continued. “So they somehow talked you into making an appointment with the intention of dating me? Even though that’s completely unethical.” She shook her head. “I apologize. I believe it’s cruel to lead someone on or give them false hope. That’s why I want to be honest with you.”
Hank stayed silent.
Rachel studied his face but couldn’t read his expression. Many people didn’t handle rejection well, so she wanted to let him down easy. “I don’t think you’re the man for me, Dr. Holden. Frankly, after a raft of blind dates, I’m not interested in dating anyone at the moment.”
“Good to know.”
Thank heavens. She was glad to see he was taking her friends’ elaborate ruse so well. “I’m curious, though. Why was this scheduled as an impotency issue?”
He hesitated. “My brother was actually the one who scheduled it. He made a big mistake.”
“Oh,” she replied, surprised but not wanting to push the matter. “Well, let me walk to you to the door.”
Hank picked up his cowboy hat and followed her across the room. “Sorry about tackling Jon. I hope he’s okay.”
“I think he will be.” She smiled as she opened the door for him. “Good luck to you, Dr. Holden.”
“Thank you, Dr. Grant.” He took a long look at her before walking out the door. “I’m going to need it.”