Page 47 of The Night Before (Savannah 1)

“Kind of like a bad movie. A really bad movie.”

He grinned and saw a bit of amusement in her eyes, just beneath the strain. So she had a sense of humor. That would help.

“I think I’ve been coming here for two-and-a-half years—well, before I stopped a few months back—and I always saw Rebecca, er, Dr. Wade, in that chair—” Caitlyn motioned toward the desk chair and shrugged, then rubbed her arms as if an eerie sensation had stolen up her skin. Crossing her legs, she flashed him a bit of calf, though she seemed unaware of the movement. Surely she knew she was a striking woman . . . then again, maybe not.

“Maybe we should just take this session to get to know each other,” he suggested, reining in his thoughts. Rebecca’s desk chair squeaked as he shifted in it. “How about this? I’ll tell you a little about myself and then you can tell me about you.”

“Kind of like that old kids’ game? You show me yours and I’ll show you mine?” she asked, then seemed horrified at the insinuation.

“Not that intense. At least I hope not today.”

“Good. I’m not sure I’m up to intense.” She shoved her hair out of her face and managed a thin smile.

So far this wasn’t going as he’d planned. He wheeled the chair to a small table where a pitcher of iced tea was sweating and a small electric soup maker was warming water. “Coffee? It’s instant. Hot or cold tea?” he asked, and she shook her head.

“I’m fine—well, maybe tea.”

He poured hot water into a mug, then handed the cup, spoon and tea bag to her. “Sorry, fresh out of honey or lemon or cream or sugar or even sugar substitute.”

“That’s fine. I’m a purist.” Dunking the tea bag in her mug, she leaned back in the rocker and again he noticed that she was a striking woman. Paler than most, her fair complexion complemented a toned and supple body. A few light freckles bridged her straight nose and thick, red-brown lashes rimmed wide hazel eyes that, in the right light, looked green. Full lips turned down thoughtfully at the corners, and the space between her eyebrows puckered as if she were in deep, troubling thought. When she looked up at him, he was taken with the intensity of her stare, those hazel eyes dark with worry. “I thought you were going to tell me about yourself.”

“That’s right.” He managed a smile. “I’m afraid it’s pretty boring. Born and raised in Wisconsin, one brother, went to school in Madison, then transferred to Michigan for grad school. I taught for a few years, then went into private practice. I was working in the D.C. area and was thinking of moving when I talked to Rebecca and she suggested I come down here. Savannah sounded interesting. A real change. So I decided to go for it.”

“What about all your patients in D.C.?”

His smile broadened. “I weaned them.”

“They’re all healed?” she asked, snapping her fingers. “Psychoses, depression, whatever. Just like that?”

“Healed? Hmm. A relative term, but yes, actually, most of them are in pretty good shape. A few I referred to colleagues.”

“How long have you been here?”

“About two weeks.”

“Am I your first patient?”

“In Savannah, yes.”

“Do you have references?” she asked, then glanced at the diplomas and awards for service that he’d hung over the now-cold fireplace. “Oh . . .”

“You can call Michigan. Talk to Dean Billings in the Psych Department. Last I heard he was still working, but he could’ve retired, I suppose.”

“So why did you show up at Josh’s funeral? T

hat’s kind of weird. You knew about me.”

His smile stretched. “You caught me. I was looking for you. Figured you’d be there. I’d been talking to Rebecca—Dr. Wade. She’d called me specifically about you. She’d mentioned you before, then called when she read about Josh’s death in the on-line version of the Savannah Sentinel. She thought you might like to talk about it.”

“She should have called me.”

“I think she tried. No answer.”

“I didn’t answer for a few days . . . wasn’t up to it. The press was calling and I was upset.” Her brows pulled into a tighter knot. “But she didn’t leave a message.”

“Maybe she intends to call back,” Adam suggested, knowing it was a lie as he stared into the hazel eyes of this beautiful, vulnerable woman. He felt like a heel, but tamped the feeling down.

Caitlyn dunked her tea bag and didn’t comment, but he knew the wheels were turning in her mind and she was second-guessing her appointment. Maybe he’d blown it. He leaned back in his chair and tented his hands. “So, now tell me about you.”

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