The Perfect 1 Page 2

  “Let me explain. It’s too complicated to go into all of it since I have another patient coming in. But how about CliffsNotes? Then we can discuss it in its entirety during our next session. That will give you time to think over my proposal. Just hear me out.

  “My younger brother is the author and extreme adventurer Lincoln Bass. He writes the Maxwell Swan series and is a New York bestseller. He has about ten books out now, I think. It’s his entire life. Well, that and being an insane adrenaline junkie. The man knows no fear, at least not until now. His first love is anything to do with the ocean really. If there’s water, he’s there.” He paused to gulp. I could see tension lines creep across his forehead. “About five months ago, Linc had an accident. I don’t want to get into the details for personal reasons, but it was horrific, almost fatal. He has a brain injury that has left him blind.”

  An emotion I hadn’t felt in many years washed over me. Empathy. “Wow, that’s awful. I’d like to say I can’t imagine what it’s like to lose your career and everything you love, but I know all too well. Still, I’d never wish my life on anyone else.”

  “He’s very depressed, as you can imagine. I can’t ethically treat him, and he flat out refuses to talk to anyone. He’ll barely even have a conversation with me. His next book is written but needs to be finalized within six months, and he’s mad at the world. Normally, my baby brother is kind and easygoing. Now he’s angry and hostile. We’ve tried different methods to aid him in his writing, but he finds fault with every program. He can type amazingly fast, but the one thing he cannot do is read back his own words.” He stopped to look at me. I knew what he was thinking.

  Oh, hell no.

  “If you’re thinking what I think you are, I can’t help you. I’m just as messed up as your brother sounds. He needs a professional for this job, someone balanced, and that’s not me. You know—”

  He cut me off with an outstretched hand. “That’s where you’re wrong. This is a perfect scenario. You listed reading as one of the things you love most. All you’d have to do is read his chapters back to him, do some light typing, and make any corrections he feels are necessary. He needs a descriptive human voice for this so he can hear the dialogue flow—whatever that means. And you, Jensyn, this would give you purpose, and you wouldn’t have to be fearful. He won’t be able to see you, so there’ll be no judgment. You’ll just be a voice, and you can choose to be whoever you want. Just go and meet him. Don’t say no yet.”

  I pondered his words. This would give me an opportunity to do something besides stay behind my gates and attend these sessions. Sometimes I did get bored. It would be nice to have some adult conversation with someone other than my household staff and Dr. Bass. I could at least check out the situation. Could I even consider this? “He really can’t see?”

  “I would never fabricate a story like this about my own brother. I wish it were a ruse, but it’s the truth. You can feel safe; he’ll never know who you were. As far as he’ll know, you’re a friend of a friend. I’ll never even tell him you’re a patient. This is win-win for you both. You need to step out of your comfort zone. We’ll never discuss your time with Lincoln during our sessions. All of that will be confidential, between you two. Take a week and think it over. I don’t want it to feel as though I’m pressuring you. We’ll finish this conversation later.”

  “I’m curious. What does he write? I only read horror.”

  He looked amused. “Little brother writes spy books. His Maxwell Swan series is huge. I’m surprised you haven’t heard of him. It’s more than espionage; there’s romance, too.”

  I choked down a snort. “Oh, gag. I tried reading Tom Clancy once, and it was too technical for me. I want to be entertained, not learn the ins-and-outs of a submarine. And romance. Kill me now. He truly is a fiction writer.”

  “You’re quite the cynic, aren’t you? You know you can’t base your entire viewpoint of love on your ex. Besides, you told me he was a douche anyway.”

  I laughed. “I suppose I enjoy horror because I can closely relate to the genre.”

  “Well, maybe my brother will change that. But you have to be patient. Like I said, he’s angry, and I’m hoping you’ll pull him out of that dark hole he’s in.”

  “I’m in that same dark place, only I’ve been there longer. You do realize you’re putting together two broken people. Don’t you have family, and wouldn’t they be better suited to help?”

  “My parents would be here in a heartbeat, but to be honest, I had strict orders from Lincoln not to tell them about the accident. He doesn’t want them uprooting their settled life in Sedona.”

  My jaw dropped. “Your mom and dad left this tropical paradise for Arizona? Wow. Once I moved here, I’d already decided I want to be interned in these sands.” I laughed.

  “I think my parents wanted the solitude and quiet of the mountains. Plus, the scenery is just as beautiful. It was either Sedona or my father threatened to drag my mother to Stockholm.”

  “What, why would they go to Sweden? Okay, now I am intrigued.”

  “My mom was born here, full Polynesian, but my dad’s from Sweden.”

  “Now there’s a combination. Wow.” Well, that explained why he was handsome. It was in his genes. “What made you stay? Other than the weather, the landscape, the beaches… I could go on.” I grinned. I began feeling a sense of ease. It had been a long time, and I hardly recognized the sensation.

  “Everything you listed. Plus, I love my practice, and Lincoln is here. I gather Hawaii is your safe haven. You’ve lived here, what, nine years? Are you happy? Because you come across as very lonely. I really want to help you, Jensyn.”

  I felt my eyes brim with tears as I twisted the tissue in my hands. “There’s nothing wrong with living a solitary life. People do it all the time.”

  “But you’re not completely solitary. You have staff who take care of your home and grounds, and you chose therapy. Why is that? After many attempts at psychiatry, explain why you sought me out.”

  I stood again. “Isn’t our time up?”

  He chuckled. “Now, isn’t that my line? Just answer my question. Why did you seek counseling?”

  I gripped my purse. “Therapy with you? Maybe because I enjoy your company. You are much better looking than my groundskeeper,” I quipped.

  “I’m hoping it will be more than my fetching appearance that keeps you coming back.”

  I looked down at my own flip-flops and shrugged. “It makes me feel normal to talk to you. I guess. You’re the only person I trust with my past. There’s no one else, and as much as I despise talking about it, I feel better after I leave. You’re my only friend.”

  He touched my arm, standing in front of me. “It makes me happy you think of me as a friend and confidant, but to find real joy, you need more. Not every person on the planet will judge your appearance. Most want a deeper connection. And I think working with my brother will give you not only another friend, but possibly a different perspective on what you’re capable of.”

  The feel of human contact from just his small touch made me giddy. I’d spent too many nights taking care of myself. And even though I’d had sex three years ago, that one instance was a fluke. A drunken partier had mistakenly stumbled onto my private beach. In the moonlight, I could tell he was attractive, and he was too intoxicated to notice my imperfections. Three drinks and two orgasms later, he was gone.

  I looked at Dr. Bass. “Not only smart, but hot,” I retorted.

  He chuckled, clearing his throat. “So you think I’m hot? I’ll pass that assessment on to my husband.”

  I blushed profusely, suddenly warm even though it was overcast. How did I not realize Dr. Bass was gay? I really had gone off the rails if my gaydar wasn’t working anymore. How embarrassing. I just came across as a horny woman. Ugh!

  “I’ll see you next Tuesday. Try to have a good week. Get out and mingle. And please, call me Lucas,” he casually demanded.

  I nodded, squeezing past him. Mingl
e, yeah, like that would ever happen. The last thing I needed was a bunch of strangers evaluating me. Been there; done that.

  I did love it here. Moving to Tahia had been a wise choice. Even though the population was large and vacationers appeared to flock here by the droves, I was able to purchase a secluded and gated lot with a private strip of beach. Living here had kept me out of the public’s eye. I felt protected and safe.

  The drive home would give me time to contemplate what Dr. Bass had asked. I mean, it wasn’t a terrible idea. It meant having a purpose, something to do, something to aspire to. The man was blind after all. It wasn’t as if he’d notice I was less than perfect. I would be someone to verbalize his work, and I could feel comfortable while doing it.

  I would really have to give this idea some thought and evaluation. I wondered if Lincoln was gay, too. Not that it mattered.

  Once I arrived home, I quickly jotted down a few things and gave Anai a shopping list. I had employed her for about eight years now. Somewhere in her fifties, she wasn’t only a fabulous cook, but did my personal shopping as well.

  I watched as she perused the list. Her eyebrows arched as she came to the last item.

  “You only read scary books. Branching out, are we?” she asked, grabbing her purse.

  I didn’t intend to reveal the author was my psychiatrist’s brother. “I gather you’ve read his stuff?”

  “Are you kidding me? I would never miss a Maxwell book? Very exciting,” she replied blushing, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Lots of sex stuff.”

  I pursed my lips, my eyes going wide. “Well, you’ve certainly had me fooled. Here I thought you were some righteous senior who sang in the Sunday choir.”

  “What? I can’t sing in the church and enjoy carnal pleasures? I didn’t realize the two were mutually exclusive.”

  “I just had no idea you had this side. You shock me.” I laughed.

  “Well, since I’ve shocked you, maybe reading a few of his books won’t be a bad thing. It just may pry you and that wand thingy apart.”

  I felt my cheeks burn, for the second time today, as I feigned ignorance. I groaned inwardly. “What thing? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “In your nightstand drawer, Miss Jensyn. Do not play dumb with me. Back massager, my ass. I may be old, but I have been around the block once or twice.”

  “Okay, okay, can you leave now before I die of mortification?” I begged, prodding her toward the front door.

  “Just for future reference, the Rabbit is better.”

  Jesus. I didn’t even remember being this embarrassed when my mother and I had the sex talk. Good grief, I wondered how many others in the house knew about my nightly endeavors.

  I decided on a relaxing walk along my beach while waiting for Anai to come back with my new books. I wanted to read something of Lincoln Bass’s before I made a decision. What if I chose to do this and got bored? Yeah, because your life is so damn exciting. Basically, driving up the street was a thrill. I could try it for a week, and if I didn’t feel comfortable, I could leave. I would just tell Dr. Bass it didn’t work out.

  I stood ankle deep as clear emerald water splashed around my bare feet. I yawned, then stretched, looking out toward the horizon.

  On days like this, I could almost forget my past. The reality was I would have been close to retiring by now, at least from the runway. I would most likely have my own clothing line and brand of cosmetics. Just possibly, I would have become a great actress. Probably a shitload of endorsements, too. My face would still be beautiful. People would still want me.

  I shouldn’t feel so much self-pity. I was wealthy, had a beautiful home, and had seen most of the world. I’d lived a full life by twenty-five—maybe not a happy one, but a prosperous and famous one. Maybe I should have been more grateful. I’d been given opportunities many weren’t fortunate to have. But I’d earned it. Sure, beauty wasn’t a skill, but it had paved the way to my success.

  Sometimes I felt as though I’d experienced age reversal. At fifteen, I was an adult. I drank and partied with the rich and famous. Hell, I’d lost my virginity at seventeen to an up-and-coming action star who was almost twice my age. I looked mature even then. Now, at thirty-eight, I was acting like an ungrateful brat. I might have lost my looks, but not my life.

  Modeling was your life.

  Who was I kidding? Everyone raised me to believe my appearance was my only talent. My world. That I was the center of the universe. Others wanted to be around beautiful people. I was no longer part of that clique; I’d been replaced and forgotten long ago. Why didn’t I just die? Was this karma? Maybe purgatory. Dead, I would have been immortalized in history forever. Now, because of my looks, I was history.

  A memory.

  A relic.

  A fossil.

  Chapter 2

  I was currently reading the third book in the Maxwell Swan series by Lincoln Bass. Surprisingly, they were quite good, and I adored his writing style. Horror had always been my favorite genre, but his books were changing my mind. Easy to understand and exciting, they kept me interested. And the sexual tension between him and his love interest, Suzanne Sweet, was explosive. Not focused on the illusion of real love, but more on sex and humorous banter. Those scenes were definitely battery worthy. More so after viewing the photograph of the author on the back of the book.

  Lincoln didn’t have his brother’s coloring. While Lucas was fair-haired, I presumed Lincoln had inherited the darker hair and skin from his mother. It was obvious he spent a great deal of time outdoors because, in the photo, he wore a wetsuit and held a spear gun. Not bodybuilder big, but a frame that appeared lean, with dense muscle and abs that went on for days. He was quite beautiful. Athletic with defined features. He definitely displayed his Polynesian heritage, because the olive skin tone was much darker than a tan. The combination of that picture and the adult content in his books made for a satisfying night. Now that I had read him and seen what he looked like, it made me even more liable to become his aid.

  Him being blind was a plus.

  I shook my head with a cringe. Even in my mind, that sounded horrible. What kind of human being was I that I didn’t truly have sympathy for this man and his plight? The truth was I got tired of people judging me on my appearance. I rarely saw disgust; I witnessed pity. Whoever I encountered felt sorry for me, but none more than myself.

  This would be the first time in years I would be in the same room with a gorgeous man and not be critiqued. I had to admit I was tired of being enslaved to my estate and private beach. Yes, I had all the amenities anyone could ask for, but I yearned to feel normal. To pretend I was still beautiful. Here was my chance. I could walk around freely, and Lincoln Bass would never be the wiser. I would just be a feminine voice sent to aid him. But he’d never truly understand the assistance would go both ways.

  As much as he might need me, the truth was loneliness had entombed me. I’d only come alive one time in my wretched past, and that was when I’d allowed an intoxicated man to make love to me on the beach.

  Love. I almost laughed. We had sex. Fucked. And even though it fulfilled me during those fleeting moments, it only made me yearn for things I could never have.

  *****

  During our next session, I let Lucas know I would attempt working for his brother. He expressed I could do a trial period, and if it became too much, I should stop.

  “As much as I love my little brother, he’s known to be rather obsessed when it comes to his writing, and the fact is, since his accident, his temperament is less than cordial. He’s become rather a prick.” Dr. Bass half smiled.

  I chuckled, rolling my eyes. “You’ve never worked in fashion. I spent over twenty years in the industry. Trust me; I’m used to dealing with pricks bigger than your brother. That profession seems to have an abundance of them. And if I could live a couple years with my ex-husband, the king of douchebags, I’m sure I can weather the time with your brother.”

  He stood, r
emoving his glasses, then rubbing his eyes. “I do not want to jeopardize any progress we’ve made, so if this becomes too much, you need to be honest and tell me. Even though we won’t be discussing your time with Lincoln during our sessions, I need you to be candid about your feelings if you become overwhelmed. If I conclude my idea wasn’t good, I will remove you from the situation.”

  “You won’t have to remove me or even ask. I’ll walk away on my own. This will be the first time since my incident I’m going to interact with a stranger on a daily basis. I’m doing this because I want to step out of my comfort zone.”

  “Bullshit, Jensyn,” Dr. Bass blurted. “My brother’s blind. You’ll be able to connect with someone who can’t judge you. Just remember. He’ll be evaluating you on your personality. You won’t be able to fall back on your looks if he ends up not liking you.” He laughed.

  “I’m prepared. I’ve even read some of his books. They aren’t as bad as I thought. I’m not promising fabulous typing skills, though.”

  “If I’m being honest here, your typing technique isn’t why I asked you to do this. I just need you to read his work. Jensyn, you know what it’s like to lose everything. I’m worried if he doesn’t find the strength to adapt, he’ll—”

  I stopped him with a wave of my hand. “That he’ll end up like me. A bitter, pitiful, semi- agoraphobic?” I whispered, lowering my eyes. “Then why are you even bothering? You expect me to become some Good Samaritan and save your brother. Jesus, I can’t even salvage what’s left of me, Lucas. Maybe I’m not who you want. I’m sure you have tons of other people who would help you.”

  He stood above my chair with both hands resting on the back. “Oh, Jensyn, I couldn’t have asked a more qualified person. You both need each other. Lincoln will give you something I can’t. He’ll prove to you that the person you are inside is far more valuable than your outward appearance. I truly believe you’ll be able to hold your own. That anger you have deep within will come in handy to keep my brother focused. I’m warning you, though. He will try his best to push you away, and he’ll make it seem as though it was of your own accord. Lincoln has turned into a petulant child.”