Her Only Chance. Cheryl Anne Porter
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a gray beard and a notepad, sitting in his private, low-lit office. Talking about sex. For thirty minutes!
“I don’t have a problem with sex,” Jamie assured her therapist for the tenth time. “I like it a lot. Well, at least I did before this conversation. Now I may never want it again.” She grinned, but when the therapist didn’t even crack a smile, she hurriedly added, “Just kidding. Don’t write that down. Okay, so you’re saying I have a problem with one member of the opposite sex, right?”
“I don’t know, Jamie. You’d have to tell me.”
“I did tell you. Sex for me is pronounced Kellan Chance. You’d think the man and I were star-crossed lovers, and I’m compelled to keep reliving the tragedy.”
“Tragedy?” Dr. Hampton raised a graying eyebrow. “Is that how you see your relation—” A knock on the door interrupted him. “I’m sorry. Will you excuse me?” He stood up. “Roberta wouldn’t knock if it weren’t an emergency.”
Jamie waved a dismissive hand at him. “Please, go ahead.” Secretly thrilled with this temporary reprieve, she added a smile. “Take your time.”
Dr. Hampton nodded and crossed the room, quietly opening the door and leaving the room. Jamie watched him, thinking she needed to develop that soothing technique. She couldn’t seem to enter or exit a room without wrenching the door open or banging it closed. If only she could close her aching—and arousing—thoughts of Kellan Chance as easily.
It was true. Where Kellan was concerned, her heart and mind and body simply would not allow her to rest. He was entrenched in her senses. She felt certain she could smell his scent, taste his kiss, feel his touch…even after not seeing him for a year. No. Jamie leaned forward, crossing her arms atop her knees and resting her forehead against them. Do not think about him, Jamie. You’ll only lose.
She raised her head and stared across the soothingly lit and comfortably furnished office where Dr. Hampton plied his psychiatric trade. “I can do this,” she said softly to the man’s diplomas hanging on the wall behind his huge walnut desk. “I can and I will,” she said with more force, already feeling better. “I don’t have anything to worry about.”
Except Kellan Chance.
Slumping, Jamie muttered a mild expletive. The man is going to drive me crazy. She then remembered her conversation earlier with Donna about being crazy. Yeah, crazy about Kellan. Worse than that, she knew she still loved him, as Donna had accused. Not that loving him has done me any good, Jamie fussed. Kellan will never change. She knew it was true. The man, despite all his wonderful qualities, physical and otherwise, was a thrill seeker, a danger junkie. Her exact opposite. He was also, without being aware of it, her worst enemy. Or he would be, if the truth ever got out.
That truth was that Jamie had fallen for Kell—the classic “wrong man”—and hadn’t been able to get over him. In fact, she was so hopeless where he was concerned that her academic curiosity had finally taken over and had plunged her into research, which had fueled her doctoral thesis: Women Who Fall For “The Wrong Man”: Why Do They Do It?
How could she have known that, in psychology circles, her research and the resulting paper would be hailed as groundbreaking? That was another secret she wasn’t able to share with Donna or anyone else—her secret book deal with a major publisher who wanted her to develop her thesis into a nonfiction, self-help guide on relationships. Once she signed the contracts, she’d have a lot of money and even more publicity. But there would be no binding contract until she rewrote her thesis into lay terms, and made it slick and glossy in short chapters chock-full of advice, conclusions, lessons, and, worst of all, answers. Help.
The publicity plan scared Jamie the most. The publisher wanted to spring her on the public, present her as the one woman in today’s world who had all the answers about relationships. Jamie could read the caption now, headlining her photo on some glossy magazine page: What does this woman know about relationships that you don’t?
Not a damn thing. She still couldn’t believe this was happening to her. Who would have guessed that the woman from New York that she’d found herself cornered by at that faculty mixer—all Jamie had known then was the woman was someone important’s sister—was also a high-powered literary agent?
Even now, Jamie could remember how, out of sheer desperation for something to talk about, she’d spouted off about the research she’d done, the interviews, her conclusions, et cetera. And then the woman produced a business card, gave it to Jamie and said Kid, I’m going to make you a star.
Whew. A book like this was all about perception, Liz Clendenen, the agent—her agent—had told her. In Jamie, the publisher believed they had the right author, providing she turned out to be an entertaining writer, too. She was young. Attractive. Articulate. Educated. Yep, she had all the credentials, everything they could hope for. All in one package. Except…and only Jamie knew this…she was a fraud. She, too, had fallen for the wrong man. And she still wasn’t over him. That made her a victim of her own syndrome. Frankenstein’s monsterette. Dr. Jekyll and Ms. Hyde.
I have to quit bringing up Kellan to Dr. Hampton. He could unwittingly blow the whole book thing, along with my license to practice, if he thinks I have serious unresolved issues here. Jamie wondered how this could be happening to her. Just when everything fell into place in her life…it all fell apart. She had this unbelievable chance to succeed beyond her wildest expectations, and she’d lost control over her own destiny. Her feelings toward Kellan Chance could torpedo everything.
It had always been this way for her in her life. Every time she tried to do anything positive, something went wrong. No wonder she’d become a thinker, a watcher, and not a doer.
A moment later, she heard the office door behind her slowly opening. Her heart thumping, she quickly brushed her long hair back from her face and tugged at her short skirt. Just keep your cool here, Jamie. You can do this. She turned and smiled at Dr. Hampton.
His answering smile bled into a quizzical frown as he sat in his chair and opened his notepad. “You look nervous, Jamie.”
“I do? Well, I’m not. Except about getting my license to practice, that is.” No license, no certification meant…no book. Only, Dr. Hampton didn’t know that, and she couldn’t tell him.
He nodded. “Yes. Your license to practice.” But he didn’t elaborate. He just took up where they’d left off. “Before we were interrupted, you mentioned—” he checked his notepad “—Kellan Chance and tragedy. Tell me about that, Jamie.”
“Well, there’s no real tragedy. Not like a car accident, or plane wreck. It’s just that when Kellan and I get together, it always ends up in heartache, almost as if we were predestined for it. We always come to tragedy, it seems.” When the doctor said nothing, Jamie continued, blurting, “Kellan is Gaelic for warrior, you know. And he certainly lives up to his name. He’s a Navy SEAL. Did I tell you that?”
Dr. Hampton nodded. “Yes. But there’s more to him than that, isn’t there?”
“Oh, of course. He’s kind, considerate, intelligent. A real Southern gentleman. A well-rounded man.” The image that conjured up in her mind…Kell’s physical well-roundedness…had Jamie blushing and looking down at her hands in her lap. Why did she always become so wrapped up in Kell physically that she forgot his other attributes?
Dr. Hampton suddenly broke into Jamie’s reflective silence. “Those are all good attributes, Jamie. He sounds very nice.”
“He is.” Her words were a defeated sigh. “He’s more than nice. He was my best friend. We did everything together. I miss him—” Jamie watched Dr. Hampton writing furiously on his notepad. What now? What had she said to set him off on yet another blazing round of note-taking? That she missed him? Jamie sat silently, determined not to utter another word until her therapist/professor stopped scribbling her innermost secrets onto what would become nothing more to him than office notes.
The air conditioner suddenly kicked on, sending cooled air throughout the comfortably furnished office. Jamie