“Once I got George’s remains returned to the US, I held a memorial. One of my psychology professors attended. A week or so after, she invited me to lunch, where she urged me to resume my studies.
“I did, and, after earning my doctorate, that same advisor encouraged me to make a clean break. Too many people in my circle had known George and our story. She called the specter of it stagnating, and challenged me to relocate and make a new life for myself.
“She had a colleague here in Auclair who wished to retire but wanted to leave his patients in good hands. She recommended me. Now, four years later, here I am.”
“With a thriving practice.”
“I’ve been fortunate.”
This is one messed-up situation, he thought. He was a cop after information that she had refused to give up. She could be the oracle that would provide him with what he needed to get Malone. Instead, she stubbornly remained an obstacle.
Yet none of that mattered right now. She lay with her hands pressed together beneath her cheek, looking warm and tender, approachable, touchable, sexy as hell, and he wanted her.
“You relocated to a new place,” he said, “but have you made a new life?”
“Are you circling back to the forbidden subject of my personal life?”
“Well, we didn’t finish that earlier conversation about it.”
“Yes we did. I told you that I don’t discuss it.”
“Not with patients, I know. Not normally. But think of all that’s happened with me that’s never happened to you with another patient.”
“None has ever broken into my office or come to my house. None has ever kidnapped me.”
“See? Transformative experiences. You saved my life tonight,” he said, gingerly patting his middle. “In some cultures, saving someone’s life binds you to them forever.”
She laughed softly. “What cultures?”
“I forget, but I know it’s a thing.” He turned onto his side to face her. “Don’t panic, I’m just getting a crick in my neck.”
He made a production of resettling, which brought them closer together. “Ah, much better. Where was I? Oh, I know. Given the life-changing experiences we’ve been through together, I believe I’m entitled to know a little about your life outside the bell jar.”
“Like what?”
“Like if you’ve had any torrid affairs.”
She gave him a look.
“Oh.Nottorrid? Hmm, that’s too bad.” He feigned regret. “Well then, how about boyfriends? How many? More than one, less than, say, twenty?” He made a spiraling motion with his hand. “Ballpark.”
Another look.
“Okay. Is there a current boyfriend?”
She lowered her eyelids halfway. Her facial features went into repose. He recognized the signs of withdrawal intended to conceal her susceptibility, when actually it did the opposite; it announced it.
“No?” Then, suggestively, he whispered, “Want one?”
Her eyes opened and looked deeply into his with yearning. It wasyearning, dammit. He knew it. But what she said was, “You can’t be a boyfriend to me, Mitch. I’m your therapist.”
He slid his hand up under her hair and conformed it to her nape. “Dr. Reede?”
“What?”
“You’re fired.”
Chapter 26
