Page 12 of Physical Therapy

EIGHT

Edith

Guidelines state that when one is uncomfortable with the behavior of a patient, that their legal rights allow them to request the patient leave.

I want Boe to stay.

His heady scent still tickles my nose from the proximity he held while questioning my personal standing. It took everything in me not to lean into him as he whispered in my ear. The man is capable of putting you under his spell, and that—especially in my profession—is one hell of a problem.

“I would warn you that stalling our sessions in this way will only lead to me extending how many are required to satisfy the courts’ needs. But”—I hesitate, tipping my head briefly to one side—“I get the impression that wouldn’t inconvenience you in the slightest.”

“I get the impression inconveniencing me is something you enjoy. Am I right?” He steeples his hands before him, elbows on the armrests.

“You have a need to assert dominance.” I flip my notepad back over.

“Most women enjoy it.”

“A need to control the world around you.”

“Again, I’m told that’s quite a turn on.”

“And a desire to unsettle others with your false confidence.” I can’t keep the smile from my face.

I’ve got the bastard.

“Who says I don’t have confidence?” He frowns, and yet, he’s still the most handsome man I’ve had grace my office… ever.

“If you did, you would have walked away from confrontation rather than engaged. You wouldn’t have had the need to seek reassurance of your worth by asserting dominance over those you perceive as a threat.”

He tips his hands toward his bottom lip, dragging the side of his forefingers over the supple flesh while he regards me. “You think I pretend to be someone I’m not?”

“In a way, yes.” I uncross my legs, tucking them to one side instead.

“What do you think I hide?” he tests. “If my character is nothing but a ruse, then who am I truly, Dr. Potts?”

“Why don’t you tell me?” I slip my shoes off and tuck my legs on the seat beside me before realizing what I’ve done.

His gaze drifts to my feet, then leisurely back to my face. I slipped up, and he knows it.

“I bet you’d love to spend hours on me, wouldn’t you?” Boe’s smirk grows. “I fascinate you.”

“You intrigue me. There’s a difference.” I’m losing my grip on him, relinquishing control.

“How so?”

With every less than perfect answer I give, his arrogance slowly returns. “Fascination is related to desire. Intrigue is purely curiosity.”

“What does it take to make you fascinated then, Edith?” He leans forward, hands clasped while he waits on my answer.

I touch my pen to my lips, half-heartedly watching the slow drift of the clouds out my office window. “I’d have to say, honesty. An honest conversation is a sure way to keep me wanting more.”

“Honesty.” He mulls the word over. “I’ve been honest.”

“You’ve been evasive.” And given his reaction to the pen against my mouth, it seems the technique required to swing the balance back my way is to play him at his own flirtatious game.

Boe pauses to retrieve his phone from the pocket of his slacks. I rest my chin atop my hand, elbow braced on the side of the chair, and wait him out.

He sighs, scrolling the screen. “Do you often share intimate details with people you barely know, Edith?” He can’t, or won’t, look at me.

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