The corner of his mouth curved. “Yeah, okay, I walked right into that one. That’s what he said, right?”
She feigned an innocent look. “I didn’t say a word.”
“Uh-huh. Maybe that’s what I would’ve said back then if I had known the state of things. But someone was good at keeping secrets.” He sent her a playfully admonishing look. “But this time—no running away, all right? I know where you live, woman. I will hunt you down.”
She laughed, her nerves making her a little giddy, and took the notepad from him. “Got it. No running.”
Not like she had anywhere else to go.
There was a knock at the door, and she turned to look that way. A blond man with football-player shoulders and a leading man face was leaning in the doorway with an easy smile. “Ready for me, doc?”
Marin took a deep breath. Here we go . . .
11
Donovan waved the man in. “Come on in, Lane. I’d like you to meet Dr. Marin Rush. She’s going to be braving the X-wing with me and sitting in on the session today.”
The man’s smile was affable, dimples slashing his cheeks, as he walked over to Marin and put out his hand. “Lane Cannon. Nice to meet you, Dr. Rush.”
“As well,” she said, shaking his hand. Lane had bright green eyes, the hint of a Southern accent she couldn’t pin down, and a hand that was big and warm around hers. She could imagine him to be a firefighter or something—some job where you needed to be big and tough but reassuring at the same time. Or more likely with the cost of The Grove, a guy who played a firefighter on TV. She knew she’d find out his background in the session, but she’d always had a habit of guessing who and what people were on first impression. It was a game she liked to play. She was right a good part of the time.
Donovan tucked his hands in his pockets. “Lane is one of the surrogates who assists us when we have clients who need that kind of intensive help.”
“Surrogate?” Marin blinked, the word not registering for a second. How could he be—then it clicked. “Oh. Oh.”
Her cheeks felt warm all of a sudden.
Lane smiled like he was used to that type of reaction. “Yeah, that kind.”
She heard a buzzer sound in her head, like a game show contestant getting something wrong. Bzzt! Wrong answer. Not a firefighter. Not an actor. Not even close. “A sexual surrogate.”
He released her hand. “We use the term therapeutic assistant around here, but yes. I’m certified in California for what I do, but Louisiana’s laws are a little knotted about it, so we’re more careful about terminology.”
“I can imagine.”
Donovan indicated they should take their seats. Lane claimed the couch, and Marin found her way to the office chair next to Donovan. She kept her expression neutral, but her mind was reeling. She knew the history of sexual surrogacy. It’d been around since Masters and Johnson, but she had no idea it was a method still in active use or that there was a certification.
Donovan hooked his ankle over his knee and leaned back in his chair. “Lane’s assisting me with a client who has crippling social anxiety about dating. Bianca will be coming in shortly to join us, but I usually chat with Lane first to get an update.”
Marin nodded and straightened her spine, trying to find her professional self again. “What’s the background?”
“Bianca was scarred in a car accident when she was young and has avoided intimate relationships because of how she looks. But now she’s in an online relationship and is hoping to bring it to the in-person level. She’s gotten to the point of video-chatting with this guy, which has been a major step. But even after that progress, she was still a thirty-two-year-old with no sexual experience and was terrified at the thought of navigating an adult relationship. That’s why we brought Lane in originally.”
Marin took notes. “How long have you two been working with her?”
“Six months with me. I brought Lane in about three months ago. He’s been doing one-on-one intimacy training sessions, taking it very slowly. But Bianca has made a lot of progress in the last month. They moved onto full intercourse last week, and last night the plan was to try again since they had the normal discomfort associated with first times during the previous session.”
Marin’s attention flicked up at that, the question falling out of her mouth before she could halt it. “You can have sex with the clients?”
Lane’s lips curved upward, and he stretched his arm over the back of the couch, completely relaxed. “If it’s a part of the treatment plan, sure. Of course, both parties have to agree to move forward in that way. Not all of my clients need it taken that far. A lot of my work is getting people used to touching and being touched. But it was important for Bianca to take that step. She didn’t want the pressure of having her first time be with someone she actually had feelings for.”
“Understandable thought process for an older virgin,” Donovan said, almost to himself. “Especially for someone like Bianca who likes to get everything just right.”
Marin’s gaze flicked over to Donovan. He was looking down at his notes, but his mouth twitched into a wry expression as if he’d sensed her looking at him.
Is that what he thought? That she’d used him like a surrogate? For practice?
Donovan tapped his pen along the edge of his notepad and gave her a quick knowing glance before addressing Lane again. “So how’d it go?”