Finding the Perfect Man (2 page)

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The ad ran in the paper for two days with no response. Even as disheartening as it was to think everyone who read it would take it as a joke, Jordan needed something to take her mind off her problems. Since the afternoon was slow, she pulled out her romance novel and sat on the couch in her office. Flipping to the page she’d left off last night, she relaxed and began to read.

With each word she read, she could vividly picture herself as the heroine. One of the main reasons she read these books was to take her mind out of her everyday problems, whisking her away to a different land where she could fall in love over and over again. Where there was always a happy-ever-after.

She flipped to the next page, fervent to read more of the exciting adventure the hero and heroine were taking, but the strident buzz of the speakerphone jarred her back to reality.

“Dr. Reed? Your appointment is here.” Erica’s voice boomed on the other end.

Jordan cleared her throat before responding. “I’ll be a few more minutes.”

She sighed, closed the book and stood. She slipped on her low-heeled, gray shoes before making her way to the desk. She opened a bottom drawer and placed the romance novel where nobody could see it.

Taking a quick glance in the wall mirror, she patted her hair into place, although she knew the bun was tighter than her grandmother’s knitting ball. She licked her lips, grateful the slash of pink lipstick looked bright and glossy.

With a straight back, she walked around the desk as she stepped back into her professional role. A role she’d taken a few years to perfect. While she was in college, her father’s mental illness hadn’t left a good name for the family. She didn’t want people to think she was insane like her father had been before his death.

She picked up the application of her newest client and slipped on her reading glasses. Brock Hamill, age thirty-six, engaged. His problem—emotionally upset over his fiancée’s recent infidelity.

She recalled this man’s story from when he’d first called. Apparently, when Brock discovered his fiancée had been cheating, the rejection had ripped apart his whole world and left him feeling unworthy of love. This man concerned Jordan, because on the phone, Brock had talked about not having a reason to live.

She knew the pain of losing someone who had mental issues. She didn’t want anyone to have to go through what Jordan had when her father died, and when she started helping a patient with suicidal thoughts, Jordan was determined to help this girl. If she could stop people from taking their own life, she would! She promised herself, when she set up her practice in Thompson Falls, Montana two years ago, that she’d do everything in her power to help these people. Unfortunately, she hadn’t been able to keep that promise because her client had taken her young life. Jordan refused to lose another client to suicide.

Emily’s circumstance still left a hole in Jordan’s heart, and because of that, Jordan was determined to help people like Brock. She’d make him see the importance of his life—without his cheating fiancée.

His last name caught her attention. Hamill? Could he possibly be related to Emily?

Shaking her head, she dismissed the thought. Hamill was a popular last name here in Thompson Falls.

She slipped on the white lab jacket and hurried to meet her patient. When she opened the door and glimpsed at Brock Hamill, her heart went out to him. The poor man looked miserable. His short, black hair appeared uncombed, and dark stubble covered his chin. A red plaid flannel shirt, several sizes too large and buttoned off kilter, hung from his shoulders. His pitiful baggy jeans could have been a reject from a second-hand store. A piece of masking tape held his outdated, thick-rimmed eyeglasses together at the bridge of his nose.

Pathetic man! His droopy, hangdog expression tugged at her heart.

She smiled and extended her hand. “Hello. I’m Doctor Reed.”

The man didn’t smile, but gave her a curt nod when he shook her hand.

“Please come in, Mr. Hamill.”

She motioned for him to go inside first then followed, closing the door behind them. He stood in the middle of the room, his gaze darting to the flowery decorations and the hardwood floor. His attention moved to the ceiling fan mounted spotlight, to the bust of Dr. Sigmund Freud on a tall pedestal, then to the walls holding her diplomas and certificates. Finally, his gaze dropped to the brown leather matching couches.

“I suppose you want me to sit there.” He pointed to the lounge chair.

“Only if that’s where you’d feel most comfortable.”

He shrugged then moved to another couch and sat. “Thank you for meeting with me on such short notice.”

Along with a mini voice recorder, Jordan picked up her notepad and pen and sat in the heavily cushioned chair next to the lounge. “That’s no problem at all.”

He glanced at the recorder. “What’s that for?”

“I record our sessions. Then I can go over our discussions later.” She paused and asked, “Do you mind?”

“Doesn’t matter.” He transferred his gaze from her face to the entwined fingers in his lap. “I feel rather stupid coming to you, but the word around town is that you’re an excellent doctor.” He stole a brief glance at her, before looking away.

“I do all I can to help my clients, Mr. Hamill.”

He nodded.

She waited for him to speak. Several silent moments passed, as he toyed with the bottom of his shirt. With his gaze downcast, he stared at his unevenly buttoned shirt.

He chuckled awkwardly and fixed the buttons before looking at her. “I guess I wasn’t paying attention when I dressed this morning.”

She kept her smile. “That’s understandable.”

He sighed heavily and seemed to relax, as he sank back into the cushions of the couch. “Well,” he began, “what do you want to know?”

“Tell me what brought you to see me.”

“There’s nothing exciting to tell.” His gaze shifted from her to the floor, then back to her.

“Oh, I’m sure there is,” she said then added, “please. I want to help you, and I won’t be able to unless I know what’s going on.”

He took a deep breath. “I met Lanie three years ago. We were the perfect couple, I thought. She had a good job, I had a good job, and we were both very successful.” He tapped his fingers on the brown couch. “We started living with each other shortly afterwards, and I thought we’d make it. She was busy with her career, and so was I.”

Jordan’s heart wrenched from the pain laced in his voice. “What is your line of work, Brock?”

He finally locked his gaze with hers. Though dulled with despair, the deep emerald hue of his eyes was beautiful.

“Construction.”

She nodded.

“Anyway, like I said, I thought our life together was going good. Sure, I came home late a few times, and some weekends I was too exhausted to do anything, but that’s normal, right?” He paused, as if waiting for an answer. “I think it would’ve been different if I had noticed a change in her attitude, but I didn’t.”

He adjusted himself on the couch, glancing down at floor. After several seconds passed, he cleared his throat. “Then a week ago I came home early from work and saw a strange car in my driveway.” His chest moved with deep breaths, and his Adam’s apple jumped twice. “I had a bad feeling. I walked into the house. The place was quiet. I crept upstairs to the bedroom, and that’s when I caught Lanie cheating on me.” His voice broke and he looked away. “I never saw it coming.”

“Did you actually see what was happening?”

“No.” He frowned. “I only heard.”

Brock
Hamill intrigued her. Underneath his pitiful appearance, she sensed a different man. He might be a little more challenging, but she’d work with him to build his self-esteem. There was nothing she wouldn’t do to help him.

“Brock, tell me about your love life. Do you and Lanie spend quality time together?”

He ran his hands through his messy hair and shook his head. “Not a lot.”

“How about before…in the beginning?”

“Yeah, in the beginning.”

“Can you tell me about it?”

He raised his eyes to her. A touch of anger lit them.

“In the beginning, we couldn’t get enough of each other. The sun rose and set on her. I wanted to spend every waking moment with her, but after a while, she just lost interest in me. I would have done anything for her—given her anything she asked for.”

Jordan didn’t exactly enjoy memories popping up of her and Kenneth when they first started dating. She knew exactly how Brock felt, because that’s how she felt. “Did you tell Lanie about your feelings?”

“Yes, and at first, she acted like she wanted to work on our relationship, but then gradually, she found other interests. She met new friends and wanted to hang out with them instead of her own boyfriend.”

Jordan couldn’t believe how much his story fit with hers and Kenneth’s love life. Scary…

She pushed away those memories and concentrated harder on Brock. Adjusting on her seat, she crossed one leg over the other. His gaze snapped to her legs, then quickly dropped to the floor. His large, dark, tanned hands gripped his knees. They appeared incredibly strong. Of course, he worked in construction.

“Then all we did was argue about her friends, so I quit taking her out,” he continued. “Soon, I started working more hours, and she complained about how much I slept when I was home. The arguments got worse and we spoke rudely to one another. Rarely did we say ‘I love you’.” He let out a breath. “I guess things weren’t as good as they could have been, but I still didn’t think she’d go behind my back and cheat on me.” He swept a hand over his face. “It’s all my fault. I drove her to it.”

“Now, Brock, you shouldn’t blame yourself.” Jordan leaned forward.

He sat up. His fingers dangled over his knees. Deep green eyes captured her attention, and she couldn’t believe how expressive they were. Underneath the stubble, his face was rugged—a square jaw, yet smooth lips. If he wore clothes that fit him, combed his hair, shaved, and got rid of those ridiculous glasses, he’d be one handsome man. Quite a hunk, in fact.

She inwardly cursed and shoved that thought out of her head. It didn’t matter what this man looked like. He was her client.

“It takes two to tango.” She smiled when he gave her a confused look. “Have you ever heard that old-fashion expression?”

“Sure, but what does that have to do with me?”

“That means it takes two to fight, two to make up, two to fall in love, and two to break up. You’re not totally to blame, and I’m going to help you realize that. Lanie had a part in disrupting your relationship, so don’t think all of it is your fault.”

His gaze moved over her face, from the top of her head, over her eyes, nose, coming to rest on her mouth. A quiver rippled through her stomach. She adjusted her reading glasses, uncomfortable at the close scrutiny. It was as if he could see right through her and read her thoughts. Thoughts that wouldn’t leave her mind no matter how hard she tried so dispose of them.

Suddenly, he flashed a crooked smile that totally disarmed her. Maybe he did know what she’d been thinking.

“Thanks, Dr. Reed. I hoped you would be able to help, and although I’m still doubtful, I can feel you actually care about my problem.”

“I do care.”

“I’m beginning to see a little clearer now. I understand what you’re trying to tell me.”

She picked up her pad and pen again, and straightened her back. She uncrossed her legs, tucking them to the side of the chair. His attention strayed to her legs before shifting away.

Swallowing, she moistened her extremely dry throat. “Brock, I have one more question. Did you confront Lanie about her affair?”

He shook his head. “After I heard what was going on, I quickly left the house. When I came back later, I couldn’t bring myself to say anything. She has no clue I know.”

“Perhaps that was an isolated incident?”

“No. I’ve driven past the house several times since then, and that same car was sitting in my driveway.”

“As much as you might not like to hear this, the first thing I want you to do is bring her with you to your next session.”

“What?” he shouted, rising to his feet. “I don’t want her coming here with me.”

“I understand how you feel, but in the long run—”

“And what next? Do you want her lover to join us on the third session?”

Although his anger disturbed her, she needed to calm him down. “Brock, you’re upset. Please have a seat and let’s talk about this calmly and rationally.”

He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry, Dr. Reed, but I don’t think I can do it. Not yet,” he said in a much calmer voice.

“What can’t you do, Brock?”

“I don’t think I can tell her that I know.”

“Do you want to bring her next time and tell her in front of me?”

He shook his head. “That would be too uncomfortable.”

“I understand.”

He glanced at his wristwatch, then at her. “I think my time is up.”

“If that’s what you want.” She stood.

“I’m sorry for blowing up like that. I’m still very touchy on the subject.”