The Last Honest Man. Lynnette Kent
motioned Adam inside and then stepped in herself, they stayed on the grass.
Moving across the concrete floor, Phoebe opened the inside door. “Air-conditioning is a gift from God.” She led the way through a darkened laundry room to the bright kitchen. “What can I get you to drink?”
“W-water’s g-g-great.” He looked around with interest. Phoebe kept an old-fashioned kitchen, with natural oak cabinets, a big table with a scarred top, and a couple of pie safes used for storage. Dried herbs hung from the ceiling in front of the window looking over the pasture, and wildflowers filled colorful jars on the windowsill above the sink.
“There you go.” She handed him a tall, thick glass filled with ice cubes and water. “Let’s sit down.” Waving him toward a chair across the table, she pulled one out for herself and sat. “It’s time for us to get to work, right?”
Dealing with the dogs would have been easy, compared to this. Adam took a gulp of water and tried to ignore the twist of fear in his belly. “Whatever you s-s-say.”
OVER THE NEXT THIRTY minutes, Adam’s frustration level climbed steadily. Phoebe had thought she was prepared for the usual first-session difficulties. But somehow she couldn’t remain unaffected by this client’s struggle.
Fifteen minutes before the scheduled end of their session, Phoebe pushed her glasses up on her nose and then set her hands flat on the table. “That’s good. You read the whole paragraph with much softer consonants, and your long vowels are improving. Let’s stop on a high note.”
Adam shook his head. “I-I d-d-didn’t h-hear any imp-p-provement. I-I’ll r-read it a-again.”
She took the card away from him. “No, you won’t. I’m the therapist and I call the shots.”
His mouth tightened even as he clenched his fist and punched the table. “I-I d-don’t h-h-have m-much t-t-t-time.”
Phoebe leaned over and placed both her hands over that rigid fist. “Here’s your first homework assignment.”
He lifted his eyebrows. “H-h-homework?”
“If you want to move fast, you have to practice. Now, listen.” Gently, she massaged his fingers, his wrist, the back of his hand. “You tense up when you speak. You make a fist and use it to get you through blocks. I want you to think about relaxing this hand when you talk.” As she continued to stroke and knead, his grip loosened. “There doesn’t have to be anyone else around. Say whatever comes to mind. Recite poetry, song lyrics, your grocery list. But think about keeping this hand open and soft.” Finally, his palm was revealed, his fingers gently curved. Phoebe laid her palm gently against Adam’s. “Say something to me.”
He stared at her for a long moment, his brows now drawn together, his blue eyes narrowed with effort. His mouth opened and his fingers tensed.
“Relax.” She stroked her fingertips over his.
Again he tried to speak, and again his fingers tightened. Finally, after several more attempts, he managed a sound. “N-n-n…”
Phoebe waited, her palm resting in his.
“N-n-n…n-n-ni…” Adam squeezed his eyes shut and drew a shaking breath. “N-n-ni…n-nice.”
Smiling, Phoebe squeezed his hand with both of hers. “Exactly. You don’t need this hand as much as you think you do. So practice talking without it.”
When she went to withdraw, though, his fingers caught hers. “Th-thanks,” he said quietly, holding her gaze with his own.
Even without the smile, he was a mesmerizing man. She found herself lost in his eyes, all too aware of his skin touching hers. Suddenly, the air conditioner didn’t seem to be doing a very good job of cooling the house.
The loud chime of the clock in the other room woke Phoebe from her trance. “Nine o’clock—you’ve definitely worked long enough for one day.” She pulled her hands from his, got clumsily to her feet and took their water glasses to the sink. “Construction starts very early in the summer, doesn’t it? Because of the heat?”
“S-sure does.” He crossed the kitchen on the way to the screened porch. “I-I’ll b-be at w-work b-by s-six.”
“And you have such a long drive back to town.” She followed him to the porch door, where Gally, Gawain and Lance waited patiently. “Um…let me take them to the barn. I’ll be right back.”
He held up a hand. “D-don’t. I j-just haven’t sp-spent any time w-w-with d-dogs for y-y-years. It’s ok-k-kay.”
Whether by instinct or intelligence, Gally, Gawain and Lance stayed still as Adam stepped outside. He didn’t try to pet them, didn’t even look at them as he walked by.
“Stay,” Phoebe told them, as a precaution. Then she caught up with Adam on the driveway. “Are you sure this is a good time? I’m still building my practice, and I have open appointments almost any hour of the day.”
The night was very warm, with a high humidity that carried a thousand different scents—grass and horses, the wild magnolias blooming in the woods, the roses she’d planted near the barn, and an indefinable accent that simply said “country.”
Adam took his keys out of his jeans pocket. “N-no. I-if it w-w-works f-for you, I-I l-l-like this arrangement.”
“Okay, then.” Above them, stars had begun to pop out in a not-quite-dark sky. “I’ll see you Monday? Same time?”
He looked across the pasture, and then his gaze returned to her face. “W-would I-I-I m-make m-more pr-progress if I-I c-came t-t-tomorrow, t-t-too?”
Her heart began to flutter. “I…well, I think you would. There are s-some intensive p-programs that go for f-five s-straight d-days. We c-could try.” The thought of seeing him again so soon had started her own stutter acting up. Phoebe swallowed hard, trying to relax, to recover her self-assurance.
Her effort fell flat in the face of his wonderful smile. “G-good.” He took a deep breath. “Th-this r-r-really is a n-nice p-place. M-makes m-me feel b-better, just b-being here.”
She nodded. “M-me, too.”
“S-smart w-woman.” He gave her a two-fingered salute and headed toward the truck. “S-see you t-tomorrow night.”
“Adam?” He turned back, brows lifted in question. “W-would you chain the g-gate closed when you g-get outside?”
His white teeth flashed in the dark. “N-no p-problem.”
Watching him walk through the twilight, she allowed herself a moment of sheer gratitude for the beauty of a male body. She could imagine the pleasure of running her hands over Adam’s strong, bare back, his tapered waist, his tight rear end. Her breath shortened as she visualized the glory of lying with him on soft sheets, in a dark room with only moonlight as a lamp to light their exploration of each other. Adam would be a wonderful lover, sensitive and considerate, powerful and yet gentle at the same time. His hands would be so warm on her skin….
Phoebe herself was warm by the time the fantasy had run its course. She blushed even hotter when she realized that darkness had fallen completely while she’d stood like a statue, lost in her erotic thoughts.
“Lance, Gally, Gawain? Let’s go, guys. In the house.” She led them inside, made sure their water bowl was filled, then proceeded through her nightly routine, deliberately blocking all thoughts of Adam DeVries from her mind. Tonight was Lance’s turn for a brushing, which she completed while watching a dog show on TV. All three dogs got their teeth cleaned—good-natured Lance and Galahad the cheerful mutt didn’t mind too much, but Gawain, a high-strung Weimaraner, fought her every step of the way, as usual. Finally exhausted, with a day of work ahead, Phoebe had no choice but to go to bed.
In the dark and quiet of a country night, her thoughts refused to be controlled any longer, and she pondered long after the canines had settled into