Page 10 of Cole's Command

“Sorry for the interruption.” Joe’s gaze shifted from him to his boss. “I have your drinks.”

“Fabulous, thank you,” Lewis replied, beckoning him in. “I’m sure Mr. V—” Hesitating, she smiled as she corrected herself. “Cole is thirsty.”

“Yes, thanks,” Cole agreed, torn between the audible way his new therapist swallowed at her adjustment and his genuine interest in the dynamic between her and her assistant.

It was clear to him that Joe desired more than only a professional relationship with his boss. His levels of attentiveness, as well as the way he’d grinned at the mere mention of her were evidence of that, but he wasn’t sure how Joe’s sentiments had been received. From first view, it seemed Lewis was not interested in a personal relationship. She hadn’t given any sign that she was open to a romance with Joe.

Or me. The analysis echoed around his head. She hasn’t shown any interest in me, either.

Cole inhaled as Joe placed the drinks down on the desk. Why was that thought so demoralizing? He hadn’t gone there for sex. He could get that at any club he chose to go to, as well as from numerous ladies who’d given him their numbers. Was his self-esteem so caught up in his vanity that he needed every woman he encountered to be interested in him sexually? He frowned at the idea. If that was true, then he really needed to talk through those issues.

“I’ll leave you to your appointment,” Joe said, his attention lingering on Lewis a little longer than it needed to before he stalked back to the door.

“Thank you, Joe,” she replied, barely looking up from her glass of water as she lifted it to her lips and sipped at her drink. Waiting until he closed the door behind him, her focus fell back to Cole. “So?’ she urged. “Those issues you mentioned...” Hesitating, she placed her glass down on the desk. “Are those what you’re here to discuss, Cole?”

“They’re a good place to start,” he confessed, shifting in his seat. “I’ll be honest. I’m not good at this sort of thing.”

“What sort of thing?” she pressed.

“Sharing.” He gritted his teeth, remembering all the times he’d wanted to talk to his brothers about the way he felt, and yet had never quite found the right time. He got on well with them all, but most conversations tended to revolve around either work or women and were usually superficial in nature. There hadn’t been many meaningful chats, especially since Michael had died. “But I know it’s important.”

“That’s why you’re here.” Her voice was the perfect blend of calm and intoxicating, like a stiff drink when he needed one.

“Exactly.”

“I applaud you for that.” Her chin rose and he noticed how she gripped her glass tighter. “In my experience, most men your age don’t want to open up. They bury their emotions with placebos like drink and drugs. In fact, I rarely see anyone in here younger than thirty unless they’ve experienced severe trauma, and your notes didn’t indicate anything of that sort.’”

Based on the cost, I’m not surprised.

“No,” he mumbled, reaching for his coffee and breathing in the aroma. The warm smell taunted, threatening to help ease him into this new era of disclosure, and yet still Cole sensed resistance within himself, some inane part of his genetics that refused to open up. “There’s nothing like that.”

“And yet here you are.” She smiled, those beautiful eyes gleaming at him. “You should congratulate yourself for that.”

“I haven’t actually said much yet...” his voice trailed away, conscious suddenly of the silence it left. He’d wanted to come and work on improving himself, had fought to get the appointment, and yet now, at this critical juncture, he could feel himself playing small, as though he sought to retreat from her scrutiny.

“But you made the appointment and showed up.” One of her delicate eyebrows cocked. “You’d be surprised at how many clients never show.”

Musing on her praise, he sipped at the hot drink, allowing it to awaken his senses. Clearly, Cole felt comfortable with Lewis. That was a good sign. It meant he had to proceed, had to trust his instincts and tell her more. Everything, his inner dialogue implored. Tell her everything.

“Where do I begin?” he asked, genuinely unsure where to start.

“That’s up to you,” she told him. “But consider where and when you first became aware of these issues. Who are they linked to?”

“That’s easy.” The answer was like a sigh. “It all started with my dad.”