with the girls at college, her practice was the only thing Isabel had left to hang on to. The only place she felt confident and in charge. Except lately, she hadn’t felt confident. She felt like a fraud. Maybe her clients had tuned in to that?
She needed to bump up the heat a little in her own life, get more experience in her area of expertise. How could she pretend to help her clients with their sexual problems if she could barely remember what sex was?
Breaking out of her thoughts, she caught the stress on Heidi’s face. “Were the Steiners the last appointment for today, Heidi?”
“Yes, Dr. Chapel,” she confirmed, rising from the love seat and retrieving the file from the desk.
“Why don’t we call it a day, then?” smiled Isabel. “Go home early. We could both use a bit of a break.”
Heidi nodded and walked back toward the reception area. “Maybe things will change once you publish your new book - ” Heidi said just before she closed the door, her smile not quite convincing.
Isabel looked around her office. Her beautiful office, filled with things she loved. The perpetual clock on the faux mantel a gift from her mother when she had graduated. The oak desk with its scarred top left behind by her mentor. Josef, a brilliant sex therapist, had not only helped her choose her specialty, he’d also passed on both his office and his client roster when he retired. Along one wall hung her diplomas and a framed photograph of her first book signing. A newspaper clipping with the national best-seller list showing her book third from the top was mounted over the bookcase. It would kill her to lose all of this now.
She simply couldn’t let it slip away. The long years at school had been hard, the painful years after Chet left even more difficult. It had been such a struggle to keep going. And financially, there was no one else to care for her and the girls. She had a mortgage payment, college tuition for the girls and a book deadline looming. She couldn’t afford to jeopardize any of it.
But casual sex? She’d only had two partners before her husband. According to Jenny, that was the problem. She needed more experience, and more than that, she needed more life in her life. Jenny could be right about that. Lately her life seemed to flat line. How could she encourage her clients to explore their sexual needs if she denied her own? At the very least she could go out and see what was going on in the world.
But The Shore? Or as Jenny called it - ‘the sure thing’? When Jenny had first suggested the newest hot spot for the older lady and younger guy, she’d been appalled at the idea. She wasn’t sure when older women had come back in vogue, and at forty, she had difficulty thinking of herself as an ‘older woman’. Now, it seemed the quickest way to reach her goal. One night plus one boy would equal a renewed enthusiasm and a better practice, she hoped.
She sat staring at the phone, then took a deep breath. Punching the familiar numbers into the keypad, she tried to ignore her stomach clenching with each ring. “Come on, Jenny,” she whispered. “Pick up before I lose my nerve.”
CHAPTER THREE
Tray Taylor’s head pounded with the music that vibrated up through his feet and seemed to course through his very core. The club was loud. Capital L. Dodging and pressing his way through the crowd, he ignored the candid approval and come hither looks he received from several of the women.
He knew he cut a pretty picture, as his mother would say, but for now he had only one goal. Get to Barry, who was waving from the far side of the club. His best friend had been a good sport about this evening, even claiming he could not, absolutely would not, step foot in The Shore on his own. Tray knew it was a crock, but he still appreciated Barry’s clumsy way of tagging along to make sure Tray would find the courage to go ahead with his plan.
The club was shaping up to be all that Barry had promised and the
She needed to bump up the heat a little in her own life, get more experience in her area of expertise. How could she pretend to help her clients with their sexual problems if she could barely remember what sex was?
Breaking out of her thoughts, she caught the stress on Heidi’s face. “Were the Steiners the last appointment for today, Heidi?”
“Yes, Dr. Chapel,” she confirmed, rising from the love seat and retrieving the file from the desk.
“Why don’t we call it a day, then?” smiled Isabel. “Go home early. We could both use a bit of a break.”
Heidi nodded and walked back toward the reception area. “Maybe things will change once you publish your new book - ” Heidi said just before she closed the door, her smile not quite convincing.
Isabel looked around her office. Her beautiful office, filled with things she loved. The perpetual clock on the faux mantel a gift from her mother when she had graduated. The oak desk with its scarred top left behind by her mentor. Josef, a brilliant sex therapist, had not only helped her choose her specialty, he’d also passed on both his office and his client roster when he retired. Along one wall hung her diplomas and a framed photograph of her first book signing. A newspaper clipping with the national best-seller list showing her book third from the top was mounted over the bookcase. It would kill her to lose all of this now.
She simply couldn’t let it slip away. The long years at school had been hard, the painful years after Chet left even more difficult. It had been such a struggle to keep going. And financially, there was no one else to care for her and the girls. She had a mortgage payment, college tuition for the girls and a book deadline looming. She couldn’t afford to jeopardize any of it.
But casual sex? She’d only had two partners before her husband. According to Jenny, that was the problem. She needed more experience, and more than that, she needed more life in her life. Jenny could be right about that. Lately her life seemed to flat line. How could she encourage her clients to explore their sexual needs if she denied her own? At the very least she could go out and see what was going on in the world.
But The Shore? Or as Jenny called it - ‘the sure thing’? When Jenny had first suggested the newest hot spot for the older lady and younger guy, she’d been appalled at the idea. She wasn’t sure when older women had come back in vogue, and at forty, she had difficulty thinking of herself as an ‘older woman’. Now, it seemed the quickest way to reach her goal. One night plus one boy would equal a renewed enthusiasm and a better practice, she hoped.
She sat staring at the phone, then took a deep breath. Punching the familiar numbers into the keypad, she tried to ignore her stomach clenching with each ring. “Come on, Jenny,” she whispered. “Pick up before I lose my nerve.”
CHAPTER THREE
Tray Taylor’s head pounded with the music that vibrated up through his feet and seemed to course through his very core. The club was loud. Capital L. Dodging and pressing his way through the crowd, he ignored the candid approval and come hither looks he received from several of the women.
He knew he cut a pretty picture, as his mother would say, but for now he had only one goal. Get to Barry, who was waving from the far side of the club. His best friend had been a good sport about this evening, even claiming he could not, absolutely would not, step foot in The Shore on his own. Tray knew it was a crock, but he still appreciated Barry’s clumsy way of tagging along to make sure Tray would find the courage to go ahead with his plan.
The club was shaping up to be all that Barry had promised and the
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