flight washing every surface around her with antibacterial wipes—while wearing a surgical mask. The claustrophobic Millie Zastrow had paced the aisle between her seat and the bathroom like a caged animal. Eddie Findlay, who was agoraphobic, spent the flight muttering to himself from beneath a blanket and scaring away the passengers sitting around him. Leticia Macullum had self-medicated with wine to the point that she fell asleep shortly after takeoff and hadn’t even been bothered by the height, usually a crippling fear for her. And Marshall Block had spent his time carefully surveying the floor for any errant pests that might have taken up residence on the plane, as he was an insectophobe.
There were moments, many more of late, that Claudia had to wonder whether she’d picked the right profession. She’d worked with this group for two years and not one of the five had conquered their fear. In fact, they’d just added more fears to the list. Surely she should have helped at least one of her patients by now.
Last year, she’d taken on a part-time teaching job at a small university in Sydney and was considering a career change. Maybe she’d be better at academia than she was at clinical work. And most of her patients would be fine with other doctors. Maybe they’d even be better off.
She glanced over at the group and felt a surge of guilt. They all seemed to enjoy coming to group therapy, and though they often argued among themselves, they’d grown to be a family of sorts—a dysfunctional family, but a family.
Some days, they seemed so close to resolving their fears, and other days, they became overwhelmed by them. She’d hoped this trip would push them out of their comfort zones. None in the group had ever traveled, chained to their day-to-day routines by their fears. They all preferred a controlled environment with their usual coping mechanisms firmly in place.
So she’d decided that maybe by throwing them into a new situation they’d learn how to exist in the real world—without her help. So far, she’d been wrong.
“All of you stay right here,” she said. “I’m just going to run to the ladies’.”
“Take these,” Emma Wilson said, holding out a packet of wipes. “You don’t know what kind of plague is growing on all those fixtures. Ebola, typhus, meningitis. I could make you a list.”
“I’m sure that’s not necessary,” Claudia said. “And I think I’ll risk it without the wipes.”
She spun on her heel and hurried down the concourse, tears pushing at the corners of her eyes. This was turning into an unmitigated disaster. Everything she’d worked so hard to achieve was now in jeopardy, and all because of this one stupid idea. It had sounded so good on paper, and she’d imagined how she’d put her successful story into a journal article or even a book. She’d even devised a name for it—adventure-based therapy.
Claudia wandered over to an empty row of chairs and sat down. The tears began to tumble down her cheeks and she allowed herself the release, hoping a good cry would restore her emotional balance.
Covering her face with her hands, she let the frustration out along with her tears, scolding herself for her hubris. If she was going to teach, she’d need to publish. But she’d been so anxious to find a new direction for her professional life that she’d risked the well-being of her clients and her reputation. If they could barely make it through a three-hour flight, how would they finish the rest of the week?
“Are you all right?”
Claudia looked up to find a man standing in front of her, his handsome face etched with concern. “Of course I am. Why would you assume I wasn’t?”
“You’re sitting alone in a nearly deserted airport at midnight and you’re crying. It was just a wild guess.”
Her cheeks warmed and she wondered if he was trying to pick her up. Nothing about her demeanor would lead him to think that she was open to that. Maybe he had some kind of white-knight complex that compelled him to help people in need. He smiled and a shiver raced down her spine. Or maybe he was just a nice guy showing a bit of concern for a stranger.
“I’m just taking a moment to vent,” she explained. “This whole day has been one disaster after another.” She drew a ragged breath. “I just had to release some of the stress.” Claudia held her arms out and shook her hands, closing her eyes as she worked the tension out of her muscles. When she opened her eyes again, she found him staring at her.
“Stress can kill you,” he said. “Can I get you anything? A cup of tea? Something to eat?”
Oh, gosh, he really was sweet. Either that, or he was some sleazy lothario, cruising airports at midnight, looking for vulnerable women. No, that couldn’t be it. He was far too handsome to need to resort to such brazen tactics.
“I’m really quite fine,” she said. “A few more moments and then I’ll get back to my group.”
“Your group?” He chuckled softly. “You wouldn’t be Dr. Mathison, would you?”
“I would,” she said. “How did you—” Claudia paused. “And you’re Rogan Quinn?” She forced a smile. “Of course you are.” Fresh tears pushed at the corners of her eyes. “This is just fabulous. I’m supposed to be in control and here you find me blubbering like an idiot.”
Rogan shook his head. “You don’t look like an idiot. And sometimes we can all use a good blubber,” he teased. “To be honest, you’ve seemed wound a bit tight when we’ve spoken on the phone.”
“What?”
“This trip is supposed to be fun. I see I have my work cut out for me.”
“I’m not the one who needs help,” she said, sending him a defiant glare.
“Oh, but I’m sure I can do you some good, as well,” Rogan replied. “Loosen up. You’re on holiday.”
“I am quite loose, thank you very much.” Claudia wiped the last of her tears from her cheeks. “And I’m not on holiday. This is work for me. No different from my therapy sessions in the office.”
“Work or not, I’ve made reservations at a nearby hotel,” he said. “I figured a decent night’s rest would be just what the doctor ordered.” He held out his hand. “Come on, then. Pull yourself together and we’ll move on.”
She placed her hand in his. It would have been rude to ignore the kind gesture. And he really was trying to help. But Claudia wasn’t prepared for her reaction to his touch. Her heart skipped a beat and for a moment, she forgot to breathe.
It had been such a long time since she’d been with a man, so long in fact that she’d forgotten what desire felt like. But that wasn’t what she was feeling here, was it? Yes, he was handsome and sexy and had a smile that could melt anyone’s reserve. But they’d just met.
She got to her feet and managed to find the wherewithal to speak. “Thank you.” She gently pulled her hand from his, but as they walked down the concourse toward the baggage claim, he smoothed his palm across the small of her back.
They weren’t in a crowd. There was no need to touch her, yet he seemed quite comfortable doing so. Stop! This was crazy, trying to analyze his every behavior and her accompanying reaction. He was simply being polite. But, oh, it felt so delicious to experience this excitement again.
“So, you had a pleasant flight?” he asked.
Claudia laughed out loud. “You’re kidding me, right?”
“I was just making conversation.”
“Mr. Quinn, I—”
“You can call me Rogan.”
No way. Referring to him in such a familiar way would make it even more difficult to keep her thoughts professional. Rogan. It was an unusual name...for an unusual man.
There was something about him that was magnetic. A charisma, a charm that was completely irresistible. When he smiled, she felt as if she were the only woman in the world.
She’d