Page 50 of Cross That Line

"That's the point."

She followed him out of the car and was surprised once again when Tyler held out his hand. "Ready?"

"You want me to hold your hand?"

"You're my girlfriend. You're here to support me in my hour of need." She could see the mischievous humor lurking in his brown eyes.

"Fine." She slid her hand into his, refusing to admit that she felt a jolt of electricity and a deep warmth spreading through her body.

He squeezed her fingers, gave her a smile, and then they entered the building.

Chapter Fourteen

Tyler didn't really need to hold Rachel's hand when they walked into Waverly Health and stepped up to the admissions desk to check in. In fact, he'd never been a man to hold hands with a woman unless they were running through danger. But he liked holding her hand.

He had also enjoyed the nervous flush that spread across her cheeks when he'd suggested they fake a romantic relationship. He'd expected her to say no, because she wasn't a woman to step over the line. But she had been doing just that the last few days, and every time she did, he liked her even more.

As they waited for his appointment, he perused the lobby, which felt expensive and luxurious with marble floors, thick rugs under seating areas, a waterfall coming down a stone fixture and soft music playing in the background. It was relaxing, but it did not seem like a place that Jack would have chosen to come to.

Jack was rough around the edges and much more comfortable in places that didn't feel rich. On the other hand, if they'd offered him a treatment that would help him, he wouldn't have said no.

"This is taking some time," Rachel muttered. "You can let go of my hand."

He smiled and squeezed her fingers again. "You wanted to be part of the investigation. Sometimes, we have to go undercover."

She gave him a pointed look. "You're enjoying this too much."

"Probably just the right amount." He paused as a tall man in a charcoal suit came through the front doors. His dark hair was threaded with silver, and he appeared to be in his late forties. An even bigger and stockier man in a dark jacket was just a step behind him.

Tyler caught the glint of a small pin on the first man's lapel: Army aviator wings. Another vet. One with a lot more money than most, judging by the suit and the shadow who’d stopped just inside the entrance, watching the room.

The receptionist sat up a little straighter and said, "Good afternoon, sir."

He gave her a nod as she buzzed him and his shadow through the door behind the reception desk.

"Who was that?" Rachel murmured.

"No idea. But someone important enough not to sign in."

The door opened once more, and a woman in a nurse's uniform called his name.

"Showtime," he said as they stood up and moved to the door.

The nurse took them down two long hallways, eventually knocking on a door with Megan Prescott's name on it.

At her call to enter, the nurse opened the door and waved them inside.

Dr. Prescott was even more attractive in person than she'd been in the security photo. She was tall and stylishly dressed in a slim-fitting skirt and blouse with high heels that added a few inches to her height. She had short blonde hair and brown eyes and appeared to be in her early forties.

"I'm Dr. Prescott," she said, extending her hand.

He let go of Rachel to shake the doctor's hand. "I'm David Burke, and this is my girlfriend, Marie Warren."

"It's nice to meet you both." She waved them into the two white leather chairs in front of her glass desk. Then she sat down behind the desk. "I understand you've been suffering from PTSD since leaving the Army."

"Yes. I have headaches all the time. Some are so bad I can't think straight. I barely sleep two hours a night. I'm haunted by dreams, and my doctor can't seem to help me. He just tells me to exercise, practice yoga, and take supplements that just don't work. I need stronger intervention, and I heard that your clinic is really successful treating people like me."

"And how did you hear about us?"