Page 4 of The Healing Touch

Becca did know exactly what he meant. She was job hunting. He’d given her an ultimatum—come to Charleston or be fired. Since there was no way her anxiety would allow her to go to his signing, she’d quit and started looking for something else right away. She had rent to pay, and it wasn’t easy finding something she could do from home.

What she hadn’t expected was for him to show up at her door before she’d even had a shower. Here she was in aGot Coffee?nightshirt, and he was there dressed in some designer special. They weren’t exactly on even footing at the moment.

“I have to find a job, D. I have bills to pay.”

“You have a job.”

“No, I don’t, because I can’t go with you.” She pushed off the door and went into her barely there kitchen and put on a pot of coffee. She needed caffeine if they were going to verbally brawl. It would help soothe her nerves. Having Dimitri in her space wasn’t helping her anxiety either. Yes, she’d known him for what seemed like forever, but she hadn’t seen him in person since the end of her freshman year in high school. He took up the entire room without even trying. Dimitri was a big man. Tall, over six feet, easily. Blond hair like her own with blue eyes that reminded her of a cloudless summer sky. He was beautiful.

The only problem? He knew it and used it to his advantage. All his brothers were like that, though. Well, except for Viktor. He was always on the lookout for “the one.” She wished Dimitri would be more like his brother. That way she wouldn’t have to hear all about the crazy things women did to get his attention. They had no clue he could give two shits about their shenanigans. He just wanted in their pants, and once he became bored, he tossed them aside like yesterday’s first draft.

So why shouldn’t she think he would discard her as easily as he did all the others? Once her usefulness ran out, what other reason could he have for sticking around?

“Well, why can’t you go?” He sat on her couch, and she winced when it barely fit him. He looked pristine next to the faded fabric, making her want him here even less.

How to tell him she was terrified of going outside her door? It was an irrational fear and one she had to face, according to her therapist. Dr. Gainey didn’t simply medicate the patient and let them go on as they were. She subscribed to the doctrine of treatment that made patients face their fears head-on along with the medication. You had to retrain your brain, so to speak, and the only way to do that was to go out there and perform the task the brain thought it couldn’t handle. Becca wasn’t ready to do that yet, though. She might not ever be.

“Why do you even need someone to go with you?” Better to go on the offensive before he started in with the dimples and the pleases. She was a sucker for those, and he knew it.

“Because I do.” His eyes took on that bullheaded, stubborn look she hadn’t seen since she was fifteen, but oh, did she remember it, and remember it well. It was the same look he gave her every day in high school when she refused to speak to him. He’d gotten his way then too.

“Then take Chrissy, or Kathy, or…what the hell is her name?” She could never keep them straight. This latest one had lasted longer than the others, though.

“Charlene.”

“Whatever.” She shrugged. “Take your flavor of the week with you.”

“Flavor of the week?” He tilted his head, thinking. “That’s a good description. I’m using it in my next book.”

Becca leaned against the sink and crossed her arms. “Well, take her.”

“Can’t,Krasivaya. I sent her packing last week.”

That was a new word. She’d have to look it up later. It used to frustrate her to no end when he’d carried on the conversation in Russian just to piss her off. It was one of the methods he’d used to get her to talk to him in high school. She’d been curious enough to start looking words up. It turned into a game of sorts, but it helped her more than she’d ever told him.

“I’m sure you’ve got a new trollop waving you down on all sides. Take one of them.”

“No, I don’t.” His face turned serious. “I want—no, Ineedyou to go, Becca.”

“Why me?”

“Because you’re the only person I trust.”

Not what she’d expected to hear. Did he worry someone would dip into the money bag and rob him blind? If that was the case, he needed to invest in new women with actual morals, not his loose floozies.

She pulled down two coffee mugs and dug out a half gallon of milk from the fridge. “Are you worried about theft? Just take credit cards, and you’ll be fine with whomever.”

Dimitri nearly swallowed his tongue when she bent over in the fridge and her short nightshirt rode up her ass, revealing a pair of very lacy pink panties. When the fuck had she morphed into a sexy nymph?

Rebecca wasn’t one for video chat. She always preferred texting or phone calls, so he’d barely seen her over the last few years.

But he was seeing her now.

Sweet Jesus, the girl had grown up. He’d noticed that long blonde hair flying in all directions, her face flushed and her breathing a little winded—a just-fucked look if ever there was one. It made him wonder if she’d been busy before he’d started pounding on her…on her door.Pounding on her door.God. He needed to stop this. It was Becca, not his, what did she call it? Flavor of the week. She was Becca, not his flavor of the week.

Didn’t stop him from appreciating the fine ass she had on display or the fact she was braless. That hadn’t escaped his attention either. It was starting to make him uncomfortable, and if he stood up right now, it wouldn’t be his legs that were the problem, but an entirely different part of his anatomy. One she wouldn’t appreciate.

“It’s not theft.” He watched her pour the coffee and add the barest hint of milk to hers before gesturing to his own. He shook his head. He drank coffee as black as he could get it.

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