“Of course. I’ll do my best.”
But it wouldn’t happen. Jonah would not get my message, or if he did, it wouldn’t matter. He would show up in my office at three o’clock today.
“Sorry, I didn’t get a message.” His eyes glinted with mischief.
He had gotten my message, all right.
It wouldn’t do any good to fight him on it. He was here, so I’d say my piece in person.
“Mr. Steel.”
“Jonah.”
“Fine, Jonah. You cannot be here. You know why—because of my unprofessional behavior the last time you were here. I should not have kissed you. That effectively destroyed any doctor-patient relationship we had.”
“Well, you’re the only therapist I want. If I can’t talk to you, I don’t want to talk to anyone.”
“Jonah, you’re putting me between a rock and a hard place. I want you to have therapy.”
“Then give me therapy. Here I am.”
I sighed. “Look, I have this hour available. Let’s talk if you want to talk. But it will be like two friends talking. This won’t be therapy. I won’t charge you for it.”
“That doesn’t seem very fair.”
I shook my head. “I feel very strongly about this. I won’t charge you. Just two friends talking.”
He smiled. “What if I want to be more than friends?”
“Oh my God, you’re not making this easy.”
“Good things never come easy, Melanie.”
“Just sit down,” I said. “Since you’re determined to be here, let’s at least talk about something.”
“Okay. Last time you asked me to think about what I was truly responsible for.”
Had I? Normally I reviewed the patient’s file prior to a session, but because I didn’t have any intention of having a session with Jonah, I hadn’t. “That’s right. So let’s start there.”
“I am responsible for the beef ranch.”
“And?”
“That’s it.”
“All right. So you’re responsible for the beef ranch. Technically, that’s all you’re responsible for.”
“Yes.”
“Now, what do you feel responsible for?”
He sighed. “Everything. I feel responsible for everything, Melanie.”
Chapter Seven
Jonah
Her beautiful emerald eyes focused intently on me. Melanie Carmichael was an old soul. Until now, I had never believed in any of that crap. But those eyes… They had seen things. Things I couldn’t even begin to imagine.
“You know what I mean, don’t you, Melanie?”
She chewed on her bottom lip.
She knew.
“Yes, I do know what you mean. For people in your situation, it’s very common.”
I shook my head. “No, that’s not what I mean. I mean you know. You, personally, know.”
She said nothing, just looked down at her hands folded in her lap.
“You gnaw on that lower lip of yours any more, and you’re liable to draw blood.”
“We’re not here to talk about me.”
“Why not? This is just a friend talking to a friend, remember? This isn’t therapy. Those are your rules. Not mine.”
She looked at me, her green eyes glaring. “What makes you think I’m your friend?”
“Isn’t that what you said? It would be like a friend talking to a friend? I think you’re the one who said we were friends, Mel.”
“No one calls me Mel.”
“It’s a spunky name.” I smiled. “I feel like you need a little spunk in your life.”
“You don’t know me well enough to know what I need.”
“Melanie it is, then. I’d like to get to know you. Melanie.”
She gnawed on that lower lip again. Damn, she was sexy. Her lips were already red as currants, but when she nibbled on them like that, they turned a deeper burgundy. Melanie Carmichael had great lips.
“So why do you think you’re responsible for everything?” she asked.
Back to that, were we? Well, I could play this game. “I don’t really know. Why do you think you’re responsible for everything?”
There went the teeth on the lip again. “I don’t.”
Maybe she didn’t. Maybe I was misreading her. But I was pretty sure little miss therapist had her own baggage. And I was going to find out what it was.
“Let me answer your question. I don’t really know why I feel responsible. I am the oldest, and my father told me to protect my younger brothers. Marjorie too, when she came along. Although at that point, I had already failed miserably protecting my brother.”
“And you never got over that.”
“No, I didn’t. And there’s something you never got over as well, isn’t there?”
“I don’t want to talk about me.”
“All right. That’s fair. Tell me how I can help myself, then. Tell me how I can leave all this fucking guilt at the door and have a good life. Because that’s what I want, Melanie. I want a good life, a life of happiness and wonder. A life filled with love. How do I find that?”
Her green eyes misted over. Hell, I hadn’t meant to make her cry. It looked like the waterworks were coming. I wanted to go to her, force her out of the chair, and hold her, tell her everything was all right.