Flawed Beauty Read online

  Tate rose, turned on the light in the adjoining bathroom, and left the door open a crack so the light would eek into the bedroom. She shook her head, disappointed in herself. She was almost twenty-two years old and still needed a nightlight. How pathetic.

  §§§

  The lack of sleep was really beginning to take its toll on Tate. Too many late nights, followed by the nightmares which plagued her, then having to be up early for school had her really dragging by Wednesday. While she could always use the money, she was happy Zeal’s wasn’t very busy. By nine o’clock, her head was pounding and so she reached up and yanked the elastic tie out of her riotous blonde curls. Stopping by the bar, she begged a glass of water from Rocko. After popping a couple of ibuprofens, she headed back to her tables. She’d just returned from the bar with an order when she saw Jace sitting in her section. She tensed and halted at the sight of him. Due to her nightmares and lack of sleep, she was feeling a little raw and vulnerable. She was not in a frame of mind to deal with him tonight.

  He looked a little different from the rocker she’d seen the previous weekend. Gone was the five o’clock shadow and his hair no longer drifted across his forehead. But he was still gorgeous. Tate felt the familiar tingle at the sight of him. She almost turned away. She didn’t want to be his challenge. What had Thor been thinking?

  She took a deep breath and headed to his table. He was busy texting when she got to him. “Hey, Jace. Can I get you something from the bar?”

  Without glancing up from his phone, he said, “I’d like a tonic water with lime, please.”

  Feeling very much dismissed, and oddly hurt by it, Tate spun around and headed to the bar and got his drink. Returning to him, wordlessly she placed the drink in front of him and turned to go.

  “Hey, wait. Sorry about that, life as an intern means never really being away from the hospital.”

  “No problem. Let me know if you need anything else,” she said as she turned away once more.

  “Wait, Tate. Hold on. Come back, please.”

  “Yes?” she said, brushing a hand over her bleary eyes.

  “Have you thought any more about those tickets? The game is tomorrow night at eight,” he said with his endearing grin.

  The need to capitulate to his request was almost too great. But she wasn’t ready to fall back into old patterns. She was already having enough problems sleeping.

  “Thanks, but I have to work. Have a good time,” she said as she turned away once more. The next time she cast a glance his way, his table was empty, except for the money to cover his tab. She drew in a shaky breath. It was really better this way, she told herself. For some reason, she felt like crying.

  She didn’t see Jace again that week, and he didn’t play in the band that weekend. A small part of her was glad, but another part she tried to ignore, liked the buzz of excitement he brought – liked the thrill of being sought after.

  §§§

  The alarm clock sounded out its annoying buzzing way too early. Tate stretched to relieve the achiness in her muscles. Sunday morning was the worst time for her, as it was the second day following two very late nights and very early mornings. Without giving in to the need to sleep for just five more minutes, she jumped up and headed to the soul-fortifying hot water of the shower – or at least mostly hot.

  Her Saturday and Sunday self-defense classes were always her biggest. While she was usually reserved and fought shyness, self-defense was something she felt passionate about, and it showed, as she bubbled over in her exuberance of the topic. After she’d covered all the common-sense ways women could use to remain safe, she began on the physical aspects. Her recommendation in the face of an attack was to do whatever was necessary to get away: kick, scratch, spit, gouge, or bite. Anything that would cause the attacker to pause just long enough.

  After her two hour class, she hit the gym. She worked her way around the weight room first, then hit the treadmill for a five-mile run. She plugged her ear buds into place, set her iPod on shuffle, and pressed the start button. She started slow, but gradually increased in speed. As much as she tried to block the images from her mind, snapshots from her nightmares appeared in her mind. Those were followed by images of bodies, slick with sweat, pressing her down, and her watching them impassively, hoping –

  praying – that this time it would be different; but it never was. Glancing down at her iPod, she pushed the volume up until the music blared so loud, it hurt her ears.

  Sweat was pouring into her eyes by the time she glided off the machine. She reached down and switched off the iPod. Her ears continued to ring from the abuse they’d endured. With her hands on her knees, she bent with her chest heaving as she strove to slow her breathing.

  With one last, deep inhale, she rose, and swiped the back of her hand across her brow. Before her, leaning negligently against the treadmill next to her, wearing long blue shorts and a white, fitted, sleeveless shirt, was none other than Dr. Jace Staton. The fitted shirt showed off his powerful physique perfectly. His folded arms caused his biceps to bulge, and around his right bicep was a thin tribal tattoo. He looked tanned, fit, and delicious. She cringed as she thought how she must look.

  “Good workout?”

  Embarrassed at being caught at such a severe disadvantage, she looked down and only nodded.

  “Come here often?” he asked with a grin.

  She couldn’t contain the grin at his trite line. “Not as much as I’d like. You?”

  “Nope, first time. Thor told me about it.”

  Ahh, the plot thickens, she thought. I’m going to kill the little matchmaker.

  “Well, I’ll leave you to it,” she said.

  “Wait… Can’t you at least show me the ropes?”

  She slid her eyes over him. “I don’t think you need any help finding the ropes.”

  His lips twisted in wry amusement. “What? A compliment from the elusive Tate Morgan?”

  “Hardly elusive,” she muttered.

  “You’re kidding, right? I can’t get within five feet of you before you run away.”

  She blushed.

  “Come on, Tate. Throw me a bone.”

  Tate put her hands on her hips as she tried to think of some way out of this situation. “I thought I was clear. I… I don’t have time to… do whatever this is,” she said, waving a finger in the air between them.

  “So you admit there’s something?”

  So far out of her depth, she could do nothing but shrug her shoulders helplessly.

  “Listen, I have to be at work later, will you at least have lunch with me? Nothing formal, just two people sitting around, getting to know each other. No pressure. What’do you say?” he asked with such an endearing grin, she found herself unable to resist returning it.

  “Just lunch?”

  “Just lunch.”

  “Don’t you want to work out first?” she asked.

  Tate was surprised to see a blush steal over his features. “I… actually already worked out this morning at the hospital’s gym,” he said with a grin.

  She lifted confused eyes to his. “I don’t understand. Why are you here then?”

  “For you,” he said simply.

  She inhaled deeply at the intensity of emotions which tightened her chest. For her?

  As she needed to shower and change, Jace agreed to meet her at a small café not far from Zeal’s that served a Sunday brunch. Now that she wasn’t under the direct influence of his charm, she began to doubt the sanity of her actions. Okay, she could do this, she told herself as she lifted a hand that trembled slightly to the door of the café. Jace wasn’t like any of the others in her experience. He was a mature man, not a fumbling boy.

  He stood and made his way to her, devastating her with his smile. Her heart began to pound when he placed his hand in the small of her back, directing her to the table. His touch was warm and it made her feel protected. Could she trust him? No… she just couldn’t risk it.

  He handed her a menu once they
were seated.

  She glanced at it and handed it back. “I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

  He twisted his lips into a wry smile. “I don’t think I’ve ever ordered for a woman before.”

  She blushed. “Is that wrong?” she asked, suddenly unsure.

  “No, not wrong, just different,” he assured her with a smile. “How about waffles with fruit?”

  “Sounds good,” she murmured, feeling awkward.

  Once the waitress had completed ogling Jace and took their order, he sat back and regarded her with a smile.

  “So, how long have you worked at Zeal’s?” he asked.

  She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, suddenly shy. “Almost two years.”

  He waited for her to elaborate, and when she didn’t, he said, “Thor says you teach self-defense at the gym.”

  “I do.”

  Again, he waited for more, and the silence hung heavy on the air between them. Nervously, Tate ran her fingertip over the stem of her water glass. She raised wary eyes to his and blushed.

  “Do I make you nervous, Tate?”

  She shrugged, uncertain as how to answer.

  “Why is that?” he asked, tilting his head to the side as if trying to decipher a complicated problem.

  Clearing her throat, she looked back down at her glass. Quietly, she said, “I… don’t date much.”

  “Your choice, I’ll bet.”

  Again, she shrugged.

  “Mmm, so I’m the exception to your rule. How interesting,” he said with a smirk.

  “Don’t flatter yourself, doctor,” she muttered.

  “Oh, but I am flattered. What made you say yes? Was it my… good looks… my charm… my witty banter…” he asked with humor dancing in his unbelievably beautiful blue eyes and a sexy grin on his lips.

  Her lips twitched involuntarily into a smile. God, he was charming. She had no doubt that very few women ever turned down the delectable Jace Staton.

  “I was just trying to get you off my back,” she said mock censure.

  “Oh, it’s not your back I’m interested in… well, maybe a little bit. You do have a nice back.”

  She just shook her head and smiled.

  As promised, lunch was kept light with no pressure. He continued to try and draw her out and she found ways to keep him at bay. Time seemed to slip by all too quickly. She was disappointed when he declared it time for him to leave for work. He paid the tab, left a nice tip – which she appreciated, and together, they walked outside the café.

  Awkwardly, she slid her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. “I had a nice time, thanks,” she murmured.

  “Good, maybe we can do it again sometime?”

  “I don’t know. I’m really busy right now,” she said, looking down at the ground, wanting so much to say yes, but afraid to.

  “So you’ve said before. And yet, here we are.”

  “Here we are,” she repeated.

  “Tate?”

  She raised her unsure tawny eyes up to his brilliant blue ones. He moved a step closer and captured her face lightly within his palms.

  “The last time you didn’t know it was coming, but now you do.”

  He gave her time to pull away, and when she didn’t, he slowly lowered his lips to hers, and with the softest of touches, he kissed her. Her chest tightened painfully and her heart pounded as the sizzle from this small contact seemed to overwhelm her. Everything around her blanked from her consciousness. All she was aware of was the warmth of his palms against her cheeks, the texture of his lips against hers, and his intoxicating scent of soap, shampoo, and his own unique smell.

  He drew back slightly and took a small, shaky breath. “Wow,” he murmured.

  “Wow,” she whispered back, suddenly becoming aware once again of the sun shining; the birds chirping; the wind blowing through the trees; and embarrassingly, the people strolling past them on the sidewalk.

  Ever so lightly again, he pressed his lips once more to hers before stepping back and clearing his throat.

  “I’m sorry, but I have to go. I want to see you again. Okay?”

  “Okay,” she answered, still mesmerized by his kiss.

  He rewarded her with a one hundred kilowatt smile. “Excellent! I’ll call you,” he yelled over his shoulder as he dashed off.

  Tate stood staring after him for a very long time. What had she just done?

  Tate checked her phone continuously like a lovesick fool all week. But he never called. What did she expect, really? He was way out of her league. He could have anyone, and probably did, as far as she knew. It was really better this way, she comforted herself. As she’d told him, she was really busy.

  Chapter 2

  As Friday was a short day for her at the university, she’d made an appointment with Dr. Barclay for that afternoon. Tate hated having to rehash things from her past over and over, and put off going to the psychiatrist as long as possible. But the nightmares were beginning to come every night and sometimes more than once.

  Dr. Barclay’s office was situated on a street lined with older Victorian-styled homes, which had all been rezoned commercial, and now housed realtors, lawyers, doctors’ offices, and some exclusive dress shops. Dr. Barclay’s receptionist, Amy, was sitting at her desk with the phone pressed to her ear. She smiled at Tate and held up a finger as she talked and took notes on a pad in front of her. Tate smiled back and sat in an antique high-backed chair covered in burgundy velvet in the waiting area. As she waited, Tate took advantage of the time by pulling out one of her many reading assignments.

  “Tate?” Amy said, getting her attention.

  Tate stowed her book back and made her way to Amy’s desk.

  “Tate, Dr. Barclay was called away on a family emergency and won’t be back for several weeks. Dr. Randall is filling in for her. Is that okay?”

  “Is Dr. Randall a woman?” Tate asked tentatively.

  With a soft smile, the motherly Amy said, “Of course.”

  “Okay,” Tate answered.

  “Good. Dr. Barclay has prepped her on your case. You’ll like Dr. Randall, she’s very nice,” Amy assured her.

  They always were, Tate thought. She could only imagine what they really thought when they discovered her past.

  Dr. Randall rose when Tate entered the room. She was somewhere in her mid-fifties, with black hair streaked with grey throughout. She was a small woman, with jet-black eyes. Tate thought she looked very exotic – maybe Hispanic or Indian.

  Moving towards her, Dr. Randall held out her hand. “Hi, Tate. I’m Dr. Randall, please come in and have a seat.”

  Wordlessly, Tate sat in the sitting area adjacent to the desk. In Tate’s immense experience, she’d found doctors thought having a desk between them and the patient placed a barrier between them. Tate didn’t think it mattered either way, as there would always be a barrier.

  Dr. Randall sat across from her and flipped open a manila file folder on top of the iPad on her lap. “So, Tate, I’ve had an opportunity to discuss your case briefly with Dr. Barclay before she left and I’ve read your file. How can I help you today?”

  Having spent the majority of her life in therapy, Tate wasn’t uncomfortable in these surroundings. As she never discussed her past with anyone, it was almost a relief to unburden herself to someone who’d not judge her, mock her, or blame her. Tate assumed this is what having a mother – a real mother, felt like.

  “My nightmares have returned,” Tate replied simply.

  “Is there anything going on in your life which would predicate their return?”

  “Not that I’m aware,” Tate answered.

  “Tate, I know you’ve been through all this with Dr. Barclay, and I’ve read your file, but I think it would be beneficial for us if we discussed your past together. Are you comfortable with that?”

  Tate simply nodded. She’d been through all this before.

  “Okay. Let’s talk a little about your childhood. Tell me about your parents…” gla
ncing down at the file, she continued. “Tilda and Travis Moon.”

  Tate stared out the window behind Dr. Randall as she retold the story she’d been repeating since she was thirteen. “My mother was bipolar and was fine when she was on her meds. When she stopped taking them, she became easily agitated and irrational. She struggled to maintain a job and drank and smoked a lot. She was excessively jealous of my father and they fought continuously about it. I think she was even jealous when he’d pay attention to me or my sisters. I don’t know if they actually loved each other, or were just used to their existence.”

  “Was your mother abusive to you?”

  Tate gave a wry smile. “I don’t think she cared enough either way to be abusive.”

  “Tell me about your father.”

  “My father worked several different jobs, all of which he hated. He was always looking for the brass ring. I think he was angry at his lot in life and resented having to support my sisters and me. When my sisters… left, neither he nor my mother seemed to care at all. He wasn’t abusive either, and like my mother, he was… aloof. I never remember receiving any type of affection from him until I was almost thirteen… and then it was, well, inappropriate.”

  “How inappropriate?”

  Tate looked down as she intertwined her fingers. “He… we… didn’t have intercourse. He just touched me sometimes… never below the waist or anything. But it made me uncomfortable. He always wanted…” Tate swallowed, even now feeling the shame, “to see me without clothes.”

  There was a pause, then without looking up, Dr. Randall changed directions and asked as she typed on her iPad. “Tell me about your sisters.”

  “I had three older sisters: Ophelia, Harmony, and Jasmine. We were all a year apart,” Tate fidgeted in her seat as she spoke of them.

  “Why does it bother you to speak of your sisters? Do you still have contact with them?”

  Tate cleared her throat. “No. I haven’t seen them since I turned twelve. They took care of me when I was little, made sure I ate, took a bath, slept inside the house when my parents locked me out. Then, one by one, they just… left. No goodbyes, no explanations… just gone. Now I know what happened to them, but at the time…” Tate shrugged her shoulders as she looked down at her hands.