Stone winced. He hated playing second when they’d been equals, but, hell, he’d swallow it. Two weeks with no work was scary, but he’d swallow it, too, since he had no choice. But anger management? Yikes, that was a new one. He grabbed the paper and began scanning the document.
“And don’t think you’re gonna show up at these classes and breeze through. From what I’ve heard, she’s hard-core and incorporates an array of unorthodox treatments. In other words, it’s gonna be hell.”
Private counseling sessions. Yoga? No way. What did yoga have to do with anger management? Charity and community service? Meditation? His heart pounded and sweat pricked his skin. Holy crap, would she force him to sit on the floor cross-legged and chant to Buddha? This wasn’t a few hours of lying on a couch and sharing feelings. This was sleepaway camp where the serial killer came in and offed everyone in his path.
Yeah. He could only hope.
Williams stared at him as if expecting a temper explosion or strong denials. Stone choked back his righteous refusal to be a trained pony, because his damn job was his life.
He had nothing else left to give.
“Fine. I’ll do it.”
“You need to sign.”
Stone glared but grabbed the pen and scrawled his name on the line. Like he had a choice. Williams actually looked a bit surprised at his easy acceptance.
“You start Monday. Take the weekend off and get your head together.”
“Who’s running the classes?” Stone asked.
“Meadows. Arilyn Meadows. I guess she’s part owner of that matchmaking agency, Kinnections, but she also does classes on the side in anger management, counseling, and yoga.”
Great. That’s where the crazy stuff came from. The name rang a bell in his head, and a faint memory tried to grab hold. How did he know that name? So familiar . . .
“Anyway, do your time, and don’t let me see this trouble again. Now get outta here.”
“Yes, sir.”
He left the office and stopped to talk with some of the other guys who wanted to find out about his punishment. He took some ribbing, but generally everyone had his back. Good thing. He’d just reached his desk when he froze, his brain finally making the connection.
Arilyn Meadows.
He’d met her over the summer during a domestic abuse case with one of her best friends. A long, lithe body. Hip-length strawberry hair and grass-green eyes.
Also the biggest pain in the ass he’d ever met.
She was prickly, mouthy, and superior. She razzed him about smoking, accused him of slacking on the job, and had the balls to call him on the endless cliché that he ate donuts in his spare time. She drove him crazy, yet he’d responded to her physically in an instant. A strange, burning chemistry slammed through him when her gaze caught his, and he had the weird instinct to do things to her.
Sexual things.
There was something in those vivid green eyes that called to him. Secrets hidden he wanted to unearth. A demand to make her surrender.
Nuts.
He was certifiably nuts to get a hard-on by a hippie with a God complex. The thought of being tortured for six weeks in a room with her almost made him go back to his chief and tell him no.
Almost.
But he had no choice. The nicotine patch on his arm itched. Oh, he wanted a sweet smoke more than anything else. Would give up his last dime of savings for a puff. Instead, he gritted his teeth and drew out the one crumpled pack of Marlboros he’d left himself as a reminder. Sticking his nose against the pack, he took a deep breath. The faint scent of tobacco calmed him a bit. Ignoring his coworkers’ jibes and laughter, he got himself back together and stuck the pack back in his pocket till the next time. He may miss the habit, but he was nearing forty, loved carbs, red meat, and sugar, and was a walking symbol for an early heart attack. He also despised weakness, and a vice that strong needed to go.
He grabbed his keys and walked out of the station. Now he had to deal with a do-gooder who had no idea what cops went through. Still, he had no choice. Best thing to do was accept it, shore up his defenses, and get through it. A physical reaction meant nothing, and a few hours in a room with her would probably cure any type of attraction. He’d agree to her ridiculous terms, pass the course, and get back to his job and his life.
No. Problem.
“I’M GOING TO SUE you.”
Arilyn held her smile. The guy across her desk was a difficult client, full of macho attitude, fear of intimacy, and a bad attitude. Still, she believed in counseling her clients to their full potential in order to be able to pursue a healthy relationship. Since she was also teaching an anger management course, she knew well how to solve difficult issues.
“I’m sorry, Ben. Why don’t you tell me what the problem is?”
His eyes narrowed and he leaned forward. “You told me I needed to be a bit softer and approachable around women. You said being a bastard doesn’t necessarily get the girl. Does any of this sound familiar?”
She kept smiling and nodded. “Yes, that’s correct. Instead of treating women with ego and attitude, letting yourself be a bit more vulnerable and nice to a woman isn’t a bad thing. That’s the way to find and stay in a solid relationship.”
“Bullshit.” He had a basset hound kind of a face, with saggy cheeks and a droopy-type mouth. His stocky body was buff, since he worked weights like crazy, and his thick blond waves of hair formed a prideful lion’s mane, but Arilyn found his crude mannerisms a definite turnoff. They’d been working with his attitude adjustment for a while.
“Why is it bullshit?” she asked calmly. She dug her fingers into the cushioned arms of her chair and began dragging in long, slow breaths. He was pissing her off, and it wasn’t a good sign that she’d rather yell than help him work through his problems. Keep breathing.
“Because I tried it. Met a girl at the bar this weekend and approached. Instead of my usual lines, I gave her my name. Listened to her. Hell, I bought her way too many drinks. When I asked her out, she said no. Said she was more attracted to the dominant kind of man and that we wouldn’t fit. Left me at the bar humiliated and broke. Because of you and your stupid advice.”
Her smile slipped. Stupid, huh? Maybe he was stupid to think any intelligent woman wouldn’t be attracted to a complete macho idiot. “She probably wasn’t meant for you, Ben. Perhaps she just wanted one night and not a relationship.”
“That’s what I wanted, too! I’m over this. Over your counseling and computer surveys just to get a mixer where I may not even connect with anyone. Your agency sucks, and I want my money back or I’ll sue.”
She’d been well trained. When people dealt with emotions like love and vulnerability, many acted out. The contract was ironclad regarding legal liabilities; Ben would never be able to sue Kinnections. As many happy endings as she had helped with, there were also heartbreakers when a couple just didn’t make it. The scenario had occurred many times before, and usually she was able to calm them down, get back on track, and move on.
She opened her mouth.
“Maybe the problem isn’t Kinnections but your lousy attitude problem regarding women,” she snapped. “Maybe I haven’t set up a mixer yet because I feel sorry for every woman who has to meet you!”
His eyes bugged out. “You can’t talk to me like that!”
She leaned forward over her desk to meet him halfway, lowering her voice. “Watch me. You’re terminated from Kinnections. Your refund check will be in the mail.”
He sat up. “Wait. Maybe we should try again. I saw some of the pics on the website and your clients are hot.”
“Good-bye, Ben.”
“I’m going to sue you for wrongful termination!”