* * *
M: By the way, did I tell you that I woke up this morning thinking about what you did to me against the wall?
J: Did you touch yourself?
M: What do you think?
J: That you had that gorgeous sexy O mouth going on this morning in your bed.
M: Maybe I did
J: Would love to see that. Fingers or toys?
M: Both. And if you want to know more, you’ll have to take me to dinner.
J: That can be arranged, but I’m going to need to eat food, and eat you.
M: How about you make arrangements for the former, and I do for the latter?
J: I’ll make reservations at a restaurant. I might need to taste you first though. Not sure if I can wait. I’ll text you later. I have a meeting in five min. Walking into the building now.
M: Mmm . . . I like the way you think . . . and I have an appt too. Can’t wait to see you again.
J: Can’t wait to see you.
Michelle grinned wickedly as she turned her personal phone to silent, then tucked it into a desk drawer. She always gave her clients supreme focus, and that included not only silencing the phone, but placing it completely out of sight. Besides, Jack was already front and center in her mind; she didn’t need to clutter her thoughts with even more of him when she had to focus on her next patient. He was some kind of magic, though; he’d been the only man whose touch had made her forget Clay. She hadn’t thought of her good friend once last night. Jack had been so overpowering, so dominant that there was no room for anyone but Jack in her head and heart.
He was a good drug, the kind who could wash away the bitter aftertaste of unrequitedness.
Now, here in the light of day, her mind tripped briefly back to Clay. She’d been in love with that man for ten years, and it sucked that he hadn’t loved her back. She’d hoped that Liam, the charming actor she’d dated a few months ago, would blunt her feelings. But as she flipped open her laptop to check on her next appointment, Michelle knew there hadn’t been enough of a spark with Liam—there wasn’t a true light-up-the-night ignition that could erase the past.
It would take a once-in-a-century eclipse to blot out the ache she’d felt for Clay, who was now so happy with another woman. Longing had camped out in her heart for so many years it had squatter’s rights. She wished someone had warned her that loving someone who doesn’t love you is like a permanent sore in the mouth—painful, and you want to touch it all the time, to worry away at it. The ache had dulled in the last few months, but he was still in her heart and she had no clue how to fully erase him.
She clicked open her calendar, checking on the details of her next session. At least she had her work to focus on. Her clients and their challenges fed her, made her whole in a way that only her work as a psychologist could do. She scanned the notes from her office manager who’d arranged the appointment, though she knew very little about the man coming to see her. That was par for the course. She rarely knew much in advance, and her job was to get to know clients during their time together.
But she knew this much. No first name, but the last name was Sullivan. His sister had called to set up the appointment for him, citing intimacy issues. There was a line about “difficulty moving on from last relationship,” and a reminder that discretion of the highest order was vital, since the patient was a prominent businessman.
Not a problem. Never a problem. Discreet was Michelle Milo’s middle name. She hadn’t even breathed Shayla’s name out loud to Jack when she’d called her service late in the middle of the night to talk.
Well, let’s see what we’ve got. She was ready to focus on this Sullivan fellow for the next hour.
When she heard a knock at two o’clock sharp, she opened the door to her office, and all thoughts rushed out of her brain but one.
One word. Blaring like a neon sign.
Smoldering.
This man was smoldering.
And she’d already met him last night.