"So." He leaned back against the cushions, one arm stretched along the back of the couch, completely at ease. "Why are you really here, Em?"
Emmy's cannoli suddenly required her full attention. "I told you. Questionnaire stuff."
"You could have emailed me a questionnaire."
"These aren't those kind of questions."
"What kind of questions are they?"
Emmy set down the cannoli. Took a breath. "There's a section of your intake form I skipped. When I filled it out."
Grant waited.
"The, um." She could feel the heat starting to climb her neck. "The intimacy section."
His eyebrows rose a fraction—just enough that she caught it—but his voice stayed even. "Okay."
"Cecelia says it's one of the top predictors of relationship longevity. We can't make informed matches without it." Emmy was definitely blushing now. "I just need to ask you some questions. About your... preferences."
"You're cold." Grant was already moving, reaching for the blanket draped over the arm of the couch. He crossed thedistance between them and settled it over her lap himself, his hands brushing her knees through the wool. "You've been shivering since you sat down."
She hadn't noticed. But he was right—the brownstone ran cooler than her apartment, and she'd worn a silk blouse that did nothing against the October chill. The blanket carried a faint scent of laundry detergent and something else. Something that was just him.
"Thanks," she managed.
"So." Grant settled back, giving her his full attention. Those steady eyes and the patience of a man used to reading a play before it developed. "Intimacy questions."
"Right." Emmy pulled the questionnaire and a notebook from her bag. The words blurred slightly. "Okay. First question?—"
"Wait."
She looked up.
"I'll answer," he said. "But you have to answer too."
"What? No. That's not—I'm not the client."
"You want me to bare my soul about my bedroom preferences to someone who won't play fair?" The corner of his mouth twitched. "That doesn't seem right."
"This is professional."
"Then professionally speaking, I need to feel comfortable. Reciprocity helps."
He was teasing her. She could see it in his eyes, that glint he got when he'd wound her up and was enjoying the view. But underneath the teasing was something else. A challenge. A way to make this less clinical and more?—
More them.
"Fine," Emmy heard herself say. "Fine. Reciprocity. But I'm expensing the therapy I'm going to need after this."
Grant's smile widened. "Deal."
Emmy looked at the first question. Took a breath.
"How important is physical compatibility in a long-term relationship? Scale of one to ten."
"Nine." Grant didn't hesitate. "Maybe ten."
"That's—" Emmy blinked. "Really?"
