The Beauty's Groom Read online

All of his energy was exhausting her. “I’ll meet with him and let you know. I’m not promising anything at this point.”

  Cameron gave her a deep nod. “I know. I know.” He put his hand on the doorknob. “I appreciate you, Lu.”

  “He doesn’t know who I am, does he?”

  Cameron hesitated. “No.”

  Good. She had made it a point, as much as possible in her professional career, to hide the fact she was the daughter of Pete Chaos. And after this past year, she really didn’t want to talk about her father.

  He cocked an eyebrow at her. “You weren’t planning on going out of town for Christmas, were you?”

  Lu thought of her sister begging her to come to New York. She hadn’t officially told her no, but now she had a great excuse to stay. “No.”

  Chapter 3

  Forest sat in a waiting room, stewing in his humiliation. Cameron had directed him here so he could attend his court-assigned anger management sessions. Forest could read the name Dr. L.C. Lane on the plaque next to the large double doors. Pfft. He shouldn’t even be here. The fact that he had to even endure anger therapy for taking a punch at his old man was laughable.

  At the forefront of his thoughts, a fuzzy memory surfaced: his father standing by him at the funeral and whispering, “Take care of your brother and sister.”

  His last girlfriend had told him she couldn’t feel close to him because he never talked about his past. Why talk about the past? All that mattered was what was in front of him. He unclenched his fist and cursed beneath his breath.

  “Sir, the doctor will see you now.” An overeager blond woman wearing way too much lipstick grinned at him and held the office door open. She put her hand to her chest and winked at him. “My name’s Bridgette. If I can do anything for you, let me know.”

  He grunted and focused on the office. It reminded him of one of his professors’ offices at Colorado State University. He’d had a full-ride scholarship there for football, but he’d majored in psychology.

  The ceilings were tall, and the shelves were packed with books. The office had mahogany wood and burgundy leather furniture to match. Most striking of all were the floor-to-ceiling windows that faced Storm Stadium. Before he could stop himself, he rushed to the windows and admired the view. “Wow.”

  “Mr. Hightower.”

  The voice was liquid, like fine wine being poured into a fine glass at a fine party. He’d been allowed into some of those parties in the past few years since he’d been drafted to the Storm, but this was the first time he’d savored such a thing. “Hello.”

  The doctor stepped away from her desk.

  His mouth went dry, and he sized her up.

  The woman was tall. Five-ten or -eleven. Maybe a hundred and fifty pounds. Sleek with all the right curves. He could tell that she hadn’t dyed her flaming-red hair, unlike every other redhead he met nowadays. No. She was pale. Vampire pale, he thought. He smiled, thinking about the last conversation he’d had with his sister about a book she was reading. She’d described the man in her book as having vampire-pale skin. He’d balked then, but now he could see what she meant.

  “Is something funny?” the smooth voice asked.

  His gaze was drawn to deep ocean-green eyes, and it stayed there as he considered the haunted light within. “Nothing funny here.”

  Major attraction sizzled between them, attraction that he hadn’t been expecting. Suddenly, he realized that he didn’t know anything about this woman. Cameron Cruz had only told him he’d used her for some counseling after his first wife passed.

  “Please sit.” She gestured to a chair with the grace of a ballet dancer. It was like every movement she made was fluid. She moved to the opposite chair with the best view of Storm Stadium and sat.

  He wasn’t used to going up against opponents without knowledge of them. Stats. Insights. Strength, weaknesses. Most of his job was about strategy, analyzing the field and picking the best way to get the ball down the field. But right now he had no game, no idea what he was up against.

  “Mr. Hightower,” she said, gesturing to the chair again.

  He stared at the chair for a hard moment, feeling off-kilter, like he’d narrowly avoided a sack by throwing an incomplete pass. “I don’t need therapy. I’ll start with that.” He moved to the chair and sat. Focus.

  She opened a leather binder and pulled a pen out. “I guess that’s not what the court says, though, is it?” She stared at some papers and scrawled something.

  “What is that?” he asked, hating that she knew more than he did.

  “When I agreed to meet with you, Mr. Cruz sent a file over for me.”

  Just like that, the chemistry went cold. “Great.” She had a “file” on him. Probably a stack of paperwork from his old social work file.

  She sat up straight. Too straight, like she was part of an orchestra. “So why don’t we start where we are? Tell me exactly what happened.”

  “Obviously, you know what happened. If it’s not in my ‘file,’” he said, making air quotes, “then I’m sure you’ve watched the news clip. So why don’t you just tell me what I did wrong, and I’ll say ‘okay,’ and then we can be done?” He clasped his hands together. “You’ll call me a prodigy, and I’ll be cured, and you’ll sign the paperwork for the judge, and we all have a quiet, relaxing Christmas.”

  She let out a long breath and leaned back, closing the folder. “Frankly, Mr. Hightower, I’ve taken on clients like this before, but I’m doubtful you’re a good fit for me at this time.”

  She wanted him to say he wanted help. It was a tactic that coaches used on players, though usually that would come with terms like “buy in” and “ownership.” He thought of the judge, the severity of insisting on nine sessions before he could go back on the football field. And the clock was ticking. “Does this count as a first session?”

  She cocked an eyebrow at him. “I haven’t agreed to be your doctor yet.”

  He hated this powerlessness feeling. He’d been through lots of useless therapy after he’d been put in foster care. It made him feel antsy. “Okay, will you agree to be my doctor?”

  Clearly unamused, she crossed her arms. “From what Mr. Cruz says, your team needs you, Mr. Hightower. And you can’t help them unless you get through these sessions. But I think it might be better to talk to another doctor, one who can give you … what you want.” With a shrug, she stood and walked to her desk. “You can leave.”

  Forest was flabbergasted. He hadn’t been dismissed like this since he was in tenth grade and his literature teacher told him he was too stupid to go to college. And she’d been wrong. He stood and stared out at the stadium, his mind whirling. He had been expecting some therapist who would check the boxes and move on. When Mr. Cruz had told him that this therapist would help him, Forest had thought he meant the problem would just be taken care of—a perk of being a big-shot player. Apparently, that wasn’t the case.

  “I said you can leave,” she repeated.

  He turned and saw that she was looking over some other file. “Why did Mr. Cruz pick you to help me if you were going to give up so easily? I mean, what do you even know about football players?”

  She didn’t respond for a while. Then, sighing, she said, “Listen, I have a soft spot for football players.”

  He let out a laugh. “Oh, wait, did you date a quarterback in high school or something?”

  Anger flashed in her eyes, making him regret the joke. She wasn’t in a teasing mood. “Uh, yeah,” she said sarcastically. “I dated a quarterback in high school. Right.”

  He didn’t understand the bite in her words. “Are you serious?”

  “What do you think?”

  “Is this some psychological game where you’re evaluating me in some way?”

  Her phone buzzed. She picked it up and scrutinized whatever message was there. With a huff of irritation, she put it down and focused on him again. “Anyway, are you leaving, then?”

  “Wait, is that the quarterback you dated in
high school? Did you marry him?” But he hadn’t seen a ring on her finger.

  “Ah, no.” She stood. “Not married. Not that it’s any of your business.”

  They were in a staring contest now. Forest had no idea what was happening between them, but it was different from what he was used to from women. Since he’d been upgraded from backup quarterback to starting quarterback, women would kind of fall at his feet.

  Her phone buzzed again, and she stared at it. She let out a light curse word.

  Wanting to keep up the teasing between them, he said, “Go ahead. I don’t mind waiting. It’s not like we were in a session or anything.”

  “I thought our session ended when I asked you to leave.”

  She had him there, and Forest had to chuckle. He couldn’t stop himself from being interested in whatever had caused her to curse. He moved closer, trying to get a look at her phone.

  Her fingers flew across the keys. “Please go. It’s none of your business.” She put a hand to her head. “I can’t deal with this. Why haven’t you left yet?”

  He sauntered back to the window. “Listen, I have to do these nine sessions in the next—”

  “Five days,” she filled in for him. “I know.”

  “If Mr. Cruz recommended you, then it must be for a reason.”

  “I’m willing to help you, Mr. Hightower, but I do real therapy. I can’t have you telling me every second how you don’t need therapy and how I should just sign the paperwork and make it easy. Despite your astute observation about my phone, I am a professional.”

  Fine, she had conditions. “Okay. But I need something else, too.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  It would sound ridiculous, but he wouldn’t have all of his plans for Christmas wrecked. “I promised my brother and sister that we would go to the mountains this year and ski and spend time together. Frisco.” He pointed toward the mountains. “Staying in a house at Copper Mountain Resort.”

  “That’s going to be a lot of driving for you.” She frowned. “I mean, I guess we could do the sessions back to back, but that has drawbacks, too.”

  “No.” He spoke quickly. “I don’t get to see my brother and sister that often, and Christmas together has been planned for a long time. It’s really important to me that I spend that time skiing with them and hanging out with them. I don’t want to be spending all my time driving back and forth from the cabin back to here and vice versa. I need you to come to Frisco to do the sessions with us.”

  “Pahh.” Her face contorted into disbelief. “What? That’s … so unprofessional. I couldn’t—”

  He’d been ready for this drive down the field. “I’m pretty sure you know we were foster kids. Foster kids that didn’t get a chance to see each other for years. We were put in separate towns. It wasn’t until I got out of college that I finally had the chance to bring us all back together for the holidays and …” He inwardly cursed himself for getting so worked up about this. “I can’t let them down. I didn’t control my temper with my dad, and that’s on me. I wasn’t prepared for my father to show up. Who knew the man would show up after thirteen years and then …”

  He knew, logically, that none of what his father had said was true. But it still hurt.

  She hesitated, taking in all he’d just told her. “I’m sorry for what you’ve been through, Mr. Hightower. But I’m a professional, and I don’t think it would look good if—”

  “But we need this. Me and my brother and sister need this Christmas. We have plans. Come to Frisco with us. I’ll give you whatever you want up there.”

  “No way. You’re going to have to get someone else.”

  His mind whirled. “How? Who can I call?”

  She shrugged. “Call Mr. Cruz. He seems to have all the answers.”

  Forest detected bitterness in her tone. “What are you talking about?”

  Her phone buzzed loudly, drawing her attention to it.

  “Really? You can’t even give me your full attention to properly dismiss me?”

  She didn’t seem to hear him, shaking her head. “Oh no. No, no, no.”

  This was insane. Forest turned away from her, thinking that he couldn’t tell his brother and sister that Christmas in Frisco was canceled. He couldn’t let this Christmas be another disappointment in their lives. They had so many plans.

  He yanked out his phone and began texting Mr. Cruz. Help! The doc you sent me to won’t do it—

  “I’ll come,” she said.

  “What?” His fingers hovered over the phone. Now he was totally confused.

  Her facial expression turned severe and she put her phone on her desk. “Well,” she said, sounding a little more shrill, “you need help.”

  He didn’t know what had happened to cause the sudden change of heart, but he would take it. He shoved his phone into his pocket. “For real?”

  “I mean, it’s only fair to you that I go and give you my utmost attention right now, when you need support.”

  Something had happened that she wasn’t telling him. But he didn’t want to dig too deep, because apparently, he was getting a free pass all the way down the field.

  She nodded, stuffing a few things into the file, then straightened the desk. “When do we leave?” She looked up, staring past him out the window. “It looks like a storm is coming. Probably should get packed and head up, don’t you think?”

  Forest was stunned, but the way he’d grown up had taught him not to look a gift horse in the mouth. He’d gotten what he’d wanted. Dang. He rubbed a hand over his head. He hadn’t had a chance to run through all possible scenarios. “Well, you could come up tonight if you wanted.”

  “Are you second-guessing this?”

  “No.” He shook himself. “Listen, I’m picking my sister up at the airport after I leave here. We’re going straight up to the resort and hitting the slopes for a couple of hours. Do you ski?”

  “What?” She frowned. “No. I mean, yes, I can ski, but no, I won’t be doing family activities with you or anything.”

  “That’s cool. I can text you the address.”

  She motioned to the door. “Please leave your number and the address with Bridgette. I’ll text you when I’m on my way. And, uh,” she said, standing and moving around her desk, “I guess we should talk about conditions.”

  “Conditions?”

  She pressed her lips together. “I mean, to keep it all professional and for my personal comfort.”

  “Right, your personal comfort is my first priority,” he said with a touch of sarcasm.

  Which she ignored. “Okay, I assume you have accommodations for me. I have to have a place where I can eat.”

  “You can use the main kitchen or the table.”

  “I’m vegan, and I don’t like my food to come into contact with other food.”

  “Oh.” She was that type. “The house I’m renting has a top-level apartment. I wasn’t even going to use it. Now it’s yours.”

  “Fine. Also, I don’t think it would be good for me to interact too much with your siblings, so I’ll keep my distance.”

  “Works for me.” It would be better not to have this stiff around anyway.

  “We can do an eight a.m. session and a four p.m. session. Does that leave you time for other activities?”

  “Eight in the morning? Not gonna work. I like to sleep in during the break because—do you know how early I get up every day for training? Like, six.”

  Her expression turned solemn. “I think my coming to you is a lot of leeway. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  Dang, this woman was a buzzkill. “Yes.”

  “Then eight a.m. and four p.m.”

  “Sounds … very accommodating.”

  “That’s what we’ll do, then. I’ll come to your place tonight. We’ll start the sessions tomorrow. And your last session will be the morning of the twenty-second.” Her smile was professional and insincere. “That will leave you plenty of time to drive home and be able to practice on the t
wenty-third.”

  Five full days with this woman? But, he reminded himself, it sounded like he would only see her for therapy. He decided to be nice. “Sounds good. Thank you.” He moved toward the door, but he couldn’t stop himself from turning back and adding, “And quarterbacks aren’t that bad, I promise.” He flashed her his media smile. “You should give them a try.”

  Her face remained placid. “I’ve known way too many of them. And most of them I’ve found way too conceited.”

  One-two punch. “Message received, Doc. No conceited quarterbacks in your future.” He walked out, stopping to give Bridgette the details Dr. Lane would need to get to the house.

  As he drove to the airport to pick up his sister, he wondered how many quarterbacks, exactly, Dr. Lane known.

  No. He didn’t need to think about that. She was clearly not his type.

  Chapter 4

  Lu took great care to make sure her kitchen was properly cleaned in her high-rise apartment. She didn’t cook much, but her sister was coming. Her heart raced. Dang it, why did Lorin think she could just demand Lu’s attention by getting on a plane and coming to Denver?

  That’s why Lu was going to Frisco—so she wouldn’t have to deal with her sister.

  She tried not to feel guilty about the seven missed calls and countless texts from Lorin. Why should she feel guilty? Lorin was the one who had always hurt her.

  The last one said, I want us to be different now. I want a new start.

  New start? Ha! Lorin had blown that chance at their father’s funeral when she’d told Lu that Lu shouldn’t have let him die. She should have taken care of him.

  She sucked in an unsteady breath and texted Lorin. I won’t be available the next couple of days. I’ve had a client emergency, and I’ll be out of town and off my phone until Christmas. Too bad I’ll miss you.

  Was her behavior passive-aggressive? Maybe.

  She slipped her phone into her pocket and grabbed her bag. She’d told her doorman to have her car brought around.

  She felt a prick of unease as she thought of Forest Hightower and his piercing blue eyes. Of course she’d seen him in interviews, but he was much better-looking in person. Six-three, bulging biceps. She was tall for a woman, and while it was cliché, she did like taller men.