Cement Heart(37)

“This is weird,” I said out loud as I looked around the room.

The clock on the wall caught my attention. It read 11:10. I was ten minutes late. Oops. I flipped the switch up and turned to sit down on the couch. My ass hadn’t even hit the seat when the door sprang open.

“Lawrence?” A short, smoking hot woman with slick, shoulder-length black hair was standing in the doorway.

The receptionist is in there? Weird.

“Yeah, that’s me.” I held my hand out. “I’m here to see Dr. Roberts.”

“I know.” She laughed as she shook my hand. “I am Dr. Roberts. Come on in.”

Reeling from the shock, I followed her into her office. “Wait. You’re Dr. Roberts?” I asked incredulously.

“Yep.” She nodded as she reached behind me and shut the door.

“You’re Dr. Shawn Roberts?”

“Yes.” She laughed again.

“But Shawn is a man’s name.”

She raised her eyebrows and shrugged. “My mother didn’t think so. Please, have a seat.” Motioning toward the couch, she sat in the chair across from me and smiled.

Are you fucking kidding me?

The Gods must have been smiling down on me after all. She was my therapist? How fucking lucky could a guy get? This was going to be a breeze. I’d turn on the old Viper charm and be in and out of here in one session, tops. And if I was really lucky, I’d escape with a blow job and a new phone number to add to my drawer.

“So.” Still smiling, she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and crossed her legs. “Your appointment was a last-minute addition to my schedule, so I know almost nothing about you, other than your name and that you play for the Wild. Why don’t you tell me why you’re here?”

To fuck you senseless.

“Honestly? I’m here because my coach made me come.”

“Ah…” She nodded. “So this wasn’t your idea?”

“Not even fucking close.”

“I see.” She stood and walked behind her desk, which was off to the side of the room. “Do you want anything to drink? Water? Coke? Orange Juice?”

“Nope.”

“Suit yourself.” She shrugged. The leather in the couch crackled as I leaned over and craned my neck, trying to get a better look at her ass as she bent over to grab a bottle of water out of the fridge tucked in the corner. She stood up quickly and caught me staring. A shy smile crept across her face and I knew it wouldn’t be long. Thank God I had a condom in these jeans from last week. Doctor or not, rule number one still applied.

“I know what you’re thinking.” Sitting back down across from me, she cracked the top off her water bottle and lifted it to her lips, not taking her eyes off of me for a second.

I leaned back against the couch and stretched my arms across the top of it, smiling at her. “You do, huh?”

“Yep.” She set her water bottle down on the coffee table and leaned in close. “And you can stop thinking it right now.”

“Huh?”

“You’re not the first male athlete who’s sat on that couch, you know? Most of them come in here expecting to find a man, and then they see me and think I’m gonna be some easy conquest for them.”

Holy shit.

“If I were a bettin’ gal, I would say that’s exactly what you were thinking too. Am I right?” She sat back and crossed her arms, silently challenging me with the lift of one eyebrow.

“No,” I denied sternly.

“Okay, Pinocchio.” Her condescending laugh filled the room. “Why don’t we talk about why you’re here now?”

I stared straight at her without saying a fucking word.

“Okay, why don’t you tell me a little about yourself instead?”

Nothing. I wasn’t about to give that arrogant bitch any information. She wanted it? She’d have to work for it.

“Alrighty then.” She sighed, obviously frustrated at my stubbornness. “Let’s do this. I’ll tell you a little about myself and if you want to jump in and contribute, you can.”

She paused for me to respond; instead, I yawned.

“As you already know, my name is Shawn Roberts. I grew up on the north side of Chicago and lived there until I was ten, when we moved to Texas so I could train for the Olympics full-time. In 2000, I went to Sydney with the women’s gymnastics team and was the favorite to win gold on the balance beam, but in a horrific practice the day after we got there, I fell off the beam and landed wrong. I shattered my ankle, and that was the end of my career. So I came home, regrouped, went to college, and here I am.” She held her hands up as she smiled proudly at me. “Your turn.”