Off the Clock. Roni Loren
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sighed. “Just please, please tell me you were at least eighteen.”
“I’d turned eighteen a few months before that.”
He tilted his head back and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Somehow, that doesn’t make me feel any better. I can’t believe you were that young. You seemed so smart and … poised.”
“Poised? Ha. I hope you’re a better read of people now than you were then. I was anything but. I was kind of a disaster.”
He lowered his head and peered at her. He could still see the girl she used to be in the curves of her face, but everything was more refined now, polished—the look in her eye world-weary. “I looked for you the next week.”
Her gaze slid away, refocusing on some invisible imperfection on her slacks. “I had to drop out for that semester. Family stuff. Long story.”
“Oh.” That wasn’t what he’d expected to hear. But her shoulders had curved inward, her entire posture closing off—don’t push. If they were in a session, he’d chase that rabbit. But she wasn’t his client. She wasn’t even his friend. It wasn’t his business. He leaned back on his hands. “As for that other elephant—that I don’t want you here—you’re wrong.”
Her attention flicked up at that, a don’t-bullshit-me look on her face. “You tried to talk Dr. Suri out of hiring me. I was sitting right there.”
“I wanted a more experienced therapist, yes. But that was nothing personal. I have a busy schedule and was hoping to have someone who could hit the ground running. I know what it’s like walking out of a research environment into a clinical one. It’s not an easy transition. The lab is all about facts and numbers and structure. Therapy is almost all feel and instinct and thinking on your feet.”
She uncrossed and recrossed her legs, meeting his gaze levelly though he could sense her nerves in the way she was holding her posture so rigidly. “I’m not going to pretend this isn’t new for me or that I don’t have a lot to learn. But I promise I’m more motivated than anyone to make this work. I work hard and learn fast. You tell me what you need me to do or learn or improve, and I’m going to do it.”
Donovan ignored the ping that went through him at her words. It’d been a long time since they’d shared those few days together, but he’d never forgotten the fantasies she’d helped him with, how she’d gotten turned on by the kinky ones. How willingly she’d melted under his touch. Tell me what to do, and I’m going to do it. He could think of more than a few things to put on that list. Starting with …
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