Rock My Body (Black Falcon #4) (9 page)

“Buttons” – Pussycat Dolls

Oh shit.

Tyke Douglas is just as freaking sexy in person as he is in the damn pictures. This is so not good.

Those green eyes of his, paired with the sexy-as-sin tattoos covering his delicious forearms could get me into so much trouble.

“Sweet bejesus!” Kimmy’s voice startles me as she meets up with me on the path heading toward the cottages. “Did you get a load of that piece of man meat? I don’t think we’ve ever had anyone as fine as Tyke Douglas here before.”

I lick my lips and try to be as professional about the situation as I can, all the while pretending that my pulse isn’t still beating wildly out of control. “Yes, I guess he is quite handsome...if you’re into that whole ‘tattooed bad-boy’ thing.”

Kimmy cackles beside me. “Who
isn’t
into that? Any woman who says they aren’t is a damn liar. There’s no way any single woman wouldn’t take one look at that and not fantasize about screwing him seven ways ‘till Sunday. You can tell me what you really think of him—I can totally keep a secret.”

It’s tempting to gush over his hotness with Kimmy, but I know better than to let my guard down with someone I barely know. It’s too risky. If anyone ever found out exactly how attracted I am to him, I’d surely be fired on the spot.

I shrug. “Honestly, Kimmy, he isn’t my type.”

She sighs longingly next to me as she toys with a strand of her long blond hair. “If you say so, but Frannie, you are most definitely
his
. Did you see the way he was looking at you? I swear he was going to try to jump your bones right there in front of Timothy.”

“You saw that, too, huh?”

She nods. “I watched it all go down from the doorway as I started following you out. Be careful, girl. A woman can only resist so long when a guy like Tyke Douglas sets his sights on her. But I don’t doubt a night with him would be worth risking everything for.”

I pat her shoulder. “Don’t worry. I promise he has no effect on me whatsoever.”

“If you say so. I’ll see you at dinner,” she calls as she trots off toward her cabin, which is conveniently next to mine.

I hate that this is only my second day here and already I’m allowing a man to get to me. No matter how much my body may crave him, I have to fight it.

I fold my arms across my torso. “Be strong, Frannie. He’s just an absurdly sexy man. You can totally ignore that fact and remain completely professional.”

I square my shoulders, finding a new sense of self-pride as I step up on the stoop of my little cottage and unlock the door. I will not flush my job down the drain over a handsome face and a seriously toned body. There’s too much riding on me getting my act straight just to piss away my very first job opportunity. This job has to work. It’s all part of my plan to become a better person—someone my parents will be proud to call their daughter again. They haven’t really spoken to me much since Annie died. It’s like the good daughter is gone and now they’re stuck with me—someone who’s exactly the opposite of their ideal daughter.

After a quick shower, I decide to wear a blouse that reveals no cleavage whatsoever and a pair of Capri pants. Even though the memory of Tyke’s eyes roaming down my body, staring longer than necessary at my chest, causes my belly to tingle, I can’t allow that to keep happening. So, from now on, I’ll only wear the most conservative outfits I brought. There’s no sense in putting myself in a vulnerable position. That’s part of the twelve steps we teach all recovering addicts. No matter what they are struggling with, avoid putting yourself in situations where you might be tempted to fall back into old patterns.

After I double-check my appearance in the mirror, I head to the main house for dinner. So far, I’ve thoroughly enjoyed having dinner with the clients. It’s given me an opportunity to observe their behaviors and get to know them before I start my first official day of counseling with them tomorrow.

This morning after breakfast, I met with Wayne in his office. He explained that they now have more clients than they’ve ever had at the facility, and he no longer has enough time to counsel all of them on his own.

That’s where I come in.

We went over the files of all the existing clients here at Serenity and discussed their treatment plans. Wayne is giving me a lot of responsibility already, telling me that I’ll be leading some group sessions, as well as giving me a few additional files for the one-on-one sessions I’ll be taking over.

I’m excited for this opportunity. It’s a test, I’m sure—to see how well I’ll do here before he gives me a full caseload. I’m ready to prove, not only to him, that I can do this, but to myself, too.

The moment I step up through the back door of the main house, I’m hit with the delicious aroma of dinner. I inhale the tangy-sweet smell into my nose, and my mouth instantly begins to water.

Sue stands over the stove stirring something in a big pot as I pass by. “Wow, Sue, that smells amazing. What is it?”

She turns to me and smiles. “It’s ham covered in honey and brown sugar glaze, topped with pineapple.”

“I can’t wait to try it. I’m going to get so fat working here. I’ve never been fed this well,” I tease her.

She chuckles. “A little bit of meat on a woman has never killed anyone.”

I lean against the counter and watch as she dumps the gravy from a pot into a few serving boats sitting on a metal tray. “How long have you worked here, Sue?”

She scrapes the rest of the steamy liquid into the last boat and twists her lips. “Since it opened, which has been about ten years now.”

I step around the counter and begin helping her load the serving cart. “Any pointers you can give me? Anything I should know in order to keep my job here?”

She sets the last of the salads onto the cart. “It’s really a pretty nice place to work. Dr. Shepherd and Timothy tend to have the roughest job detoxing the clients when they first come in. The rest of us get to be more friendly with the clients—some a little too friendly, if you know what I mean.”

I laugh and the memory of first meeting with the clients pop into mind, and the handsome activities director who seemed a little too friendly with our resident pop singer. “You mean Randall?”

Sue nods. “You’ve been here one day and have already picked up on it. You’re going to do all right here, Mrs. Mead.”

“Please, call me Frannie, Sue. Mrs. Mead is my mother, and I am most definitely not married,” I say, earning a laugh from her. “Has he ever...”

I try to stop myself from digging into someone else’s business, but the beginning of my thought is already out there and there’s no taking it back.

“Messed around with a client?” Sue furrows her brow as she considers the question. “I don’t think so. He’s probably been tempted, but he knows Dr. Shepherd has a zero tolerance for fraternization with the clients. He’d surely lose his job if he did.”

“Noted. Not that I would ever have any kind of relationship with a client, though.”

Sue sighs as she wipes her hands on a dishtowel. “That’s what they all say, but I’ve seen it happen more times than I can remember. The therapist before you had an affair with a football player that we had here at the facility for a while.”

“Really? What happened?” I ask, extremely interested in where this conversion seems to be heading.

“Timothy caught them in the therapist’s office. Apparently, he walked in during a session, and she was counseling the client in more ways than one on her couch.” Sue waggles her eyebrows, and I burst out laughing.

“Remind me to never sit there.”

It’s easy for me to joke around with her and act like I would never be caught in a situation like that because it’s easier than revealing the truth about myself to someone who won’t understand. I’m an addict myself, but my drug of choice isn’t anything crushed, shot, or snorted. It’s better if I put on a facade and pretend that I’m a very conservative woman—a little prudish. It won’t make my coworkers here suspect that every moment I’m around men I’m attracted to, I’m in danger of relapsing into my old ways.

Sue steps back and appraises the cart that we’ve just loaded. “I think that’s it. Thank you for all the help.”

I dust my hands off. “Anytime. It was good chatting with you.”

I push through the door of the kitchen and make my way into the huge dining room. Every time I come in here, I think of those old movies where the mansions have humongous formal rooms, each detail of the place screaming that the owner is made of money.

Several clients mill about the room, paying no mind that I’ve even entered as they continue to talk among themselves. In the short time I’ve been here, I’ve already sort of learned the hierarchy—Josie Sullivan has to remain the center of attention at all times, while the rest of the clients take a backseat. Wayne tries to combat this by reminding her constantly of the rules he’s set in place about respecting everyone, and allowing others an equal chance to express their feelings and thoughts. Randall fawns over Josie, giving her a little extra affection when he thinks no one is looking, but I can tell he’s not in love with her or anything. I’ve noticed the way his eyes linger on me a little too long from time to time. I know guys like him. Totally hot and one hundred percent player—the kind of guy I need to steer clear of.

I make my way to the seat where I’ve been sitting for the past couple of days, to the immediate right of Wayne, who sits at the head like our leader. Before I have the chance to pull the chair out myself, it slides out for me. My gaze instantly lands on the large thick fingers wrapped around its edge, before my eyes trail up the toned, tattooed forearms of none other than Tyke Douglas. The wicked gleam in his eyes is much too appealing, taunting me to give in to his subtle advances and flirt back.

I swallow hard and tip my chin up, doing my best to act like being this close to him doesn’t bother me one bit. “Thank you, Mr. Douglas.”

Even the slow nod he gives me is sexy. “Dr. Mead.”

Sliding into the seat, I feel it scoot in behind me, his thumb grazing my shoulder. Goosebumps erupt all over my skin at the thought of Tyke’s proximity. The feeling doesn’t let up because moments later he takes the seat directly beside me.

I risk a glance at him just as he unfolds the cloth napkin from the table and then smoothes it over one leg. I find myself mesmerized by the way his thick fingers move so gracefully across the material and my gaze lands on his crotch, a visceral reaction to the idea of what could possibly be under those snug jeans causing me to bite my lip.

A deep chuckle snaps me out of my daze, and I quickly look away, refocusing harder than necessary on the silverware in front of me.

I go to work, straightening my fork next to my knife, and feel his hot breath on my neck as he leans in and whispers, “See something you like, Doc?”

Still unable to look at him, I shake my head, feeling my hair slide across his face. “No.”

“Did you say something, Dr. Mead?” Josie asks from across the table, and I’m instantly mortified that I said anything out loud.

My cheeks heat, and I know without a doubt they’re rosy red. “No, Josie, I was just thinking out loud.”

She raises a perfectly plucked eyebrow at me. “Okay...”

For a moment, I worry that I’ll have to explain myself further, but thankfully Randall sits next to her and Josie forgets me almost immediately.

I snap my gaze to Tyke and narrow my eyes, the urge to let him know that he’s not going to possess any power over me whatsoever overwhelming. No amount of smooth talking will make me change the rules I’ve set for myself. I’m going to remain celibate, no matter how much it freaking kills me.

“No more of that will be tolerated, Mr. Douglas,” I tell him sternly, which only makes his smile widen.

Dear God. Why does he have to have such a sexy mouth? This isn’t fair. How am I expected to live so close to this man if he continues to pursue me in such a forward manner?

Tyke rests his arm on the table and grins crookedly. “We’ll see.”

I open my mouth to scold him, but before I have the opportunity, Wayne’s voice startles me. “Good evening, everyone.”

I turn toward the door just in time to see my boss strut into the room in yet another fabulously pressed and extremely expensive-looking suit. It’s almost as if everyone answers in unison because a chorus of good evenings rings around the room.