I liked dangerous, messed up men. I knew that. I was drawn to them like a bumbling bee to a honey trap. I knew I’d be vulnerable to this man and all his wicked charms if I let him get under my skin in any way. I’d get horny and weak.
I was already horny.
There were just too many years of longing for him in my past, and too many signals that his system sent crashing into mine, flipping switches and pressing buttons, whenever he got close to me.
I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t let him get that close.
I took a careful step back.
“I’ll see you tomorrow for dinner. I’ll let you know what time to be ready.”
“You do that,” he said, the panther-in-heat look in his eyes lingering on my face.
I stuck out my hand. “Have a nice day, Johnny.”
He stared at me, like,Really?
“Consider it practice. You know, manners?” I prompted.
He slipped his hand slowly into mine and squeezed. Bad idea. It was the most sexually arousing handshake in history, as that warm squeeze sent a rush of heat and lust straight between my legs and my clit hummed with want.
I broke eye contact—because no way was I looking him in the eyes while my pussy flipped out at his touch—and snatched my hand back.
Professional relationship only.
No touching.
“I have to go. Pancakes.”
Then I darted out of his studio, my heart pounding.
ChapterEighteen
Johnny
“Johnny!” Vivian threw the door open wide, and her arms with it. As always, she seemed delighted to see me, as if my habit of dropping into her home with no notice, anytime I felt like it, wasn’t the least bit annoying or off-putting.
I hugged her and wondered, not for the first time, how many other strays her husband had picked up over the years and if they ever dropped in like this.
She smiled up at me like an old lady cherub in her floral-print kaftan, her pale white-blonde hair in soft wisps around her face. This woman was the loving grandmother I’d never had. My own grandmother was chilly and acerbic, the other one had died when I was three, and my step-grandmother was uncomfortably conservative. So, I’d adopted Vivian as my de facto grandma after we’d met at least a few dozen times and I finally decided to trust her.
Her husband was another story. I’d met Rory hundreds of times, spent hours in his office, talking to him, not talking to him, hating and resenting and fighting him. Then chasing him to keep talking to me, years after his retirement from his career as a child and adolescent psychiatrist.
When he’d explained to me that he couldn’t keep treating me because he no longer practiced and I got over the perceived rejection, I’d found creative ways to keep our conversation going. In retirement, the man had taken up endless creative hobbies, so I’d given him guitar lessons. After that, I’d come learn about shaping his bonsai trees with him or let him teach me how to paint, whatever it took.
Last year, after the cancer diagnosis and treatment, he got deeply interested in longevity and I brought him for a tour of my home gym. When he kept coming back to use the hot-cold circuit, I finally sent him a cold plunge bath of his own. He already had a sauna.
“Is he using the cold plunge?” I asked Viv as I stepped into the house and she shut the door. I glanced into the living room, but didn’t see Rory.
“Almost every day.” When I turned back to Vivian, she flattened her hands on my chest and looked up into my eyes. “Johnny. You’ve got to stop sending him gifts. All he wants is time with you.”
“It goes with the sauna, though,” I said lightly. “It’s a circuit. Hot, cold. You can’t have one without the other.” I knew Rory could afford to buy it on his own, but I’d taken care of it, paid to have it installed. I’d come by a few weeks ago to make sure the installers did a good job, but Viv wasn’t home at the time.
I’d told myself I was giving him the best kind of gift, something he wanted but might never get around to doing for himself. But when Viv looked into my eyes, I knew why I really did it. Rory had called me on it in our talks, many times; my habit of trying to buy people’s loyalty, because I didn’t know how to get it any other way. Or so I’d come to believe, according to him.
I knew he was right, because I still had this lingering expectation, even after all these years, that one day he’d tell me to stop coming to see him.
“I’m just taking care of his health, Viv. That’s good for both of us, right?”
