Page 13 of Color of Love

“I wanted to see how you reacted to not getting your way,” she replied simply. His lips thinned to a mulish line. She took a deep breath and sighed when he didn’t respond.

“What triggered you on Saturday night?” she asked, again not expecting an answer. She saw guilt flash in his eyes briefly. What did he feel guilty about? Something to do with his flashback? Or because he said he’d ruined her performance? Did he care about her?

“Did you behave like this with your other psychologists?” she pressed. She wanted to give him a hard time, she wanted a reaction and was through playing their silent game. Was he like this with everyone or just her? She noticed he didn’t seem to have many friends, not much of a social life. Did he have a girlfriend? Had he had one since his wife died? She had a mischievous idea…

“When was your last sexual relationship?” she asked. His nostrils flared, she loved when they did that—ah—because she knew she was getting to him. He fixed her with a calculated stare, something wicked gleaming in the depths of those slate eyes then he reached over and flicked off the voice recorder.

“When was yours?” he asked coolly. Her heart thud in her chest at his words. His eyes captured hers, the silver depths swirling hypnotically, pulling her under and in that moment, she wanted to drown in them. She felt hot all over, her face flushed, and her body ached. For what, she didn’t know. She opened her mouth and closed it again, he’d stumped her. Realizing he had done this on purpose to shut her up, she fixed him with a facetious smile.

“We’re not here to talk about me. How many times a day or week do you have panic attacks, Blake?” she asked, getting up and taking the recorder back to her desk. She put it down, straightened a pen that was askew and picked up a business card. She went back over to him and stared down at him. He matched her look but didn’t answer. She slid her card across the coffee table to him and caught his eyes staring down the front of her dress. Goosebumps spread out over her skin at his blatant perusal. Another trick to throw her off. Damn, it nearly worked as well.

“My number is on there. I’m available to speak to any day, at any time, if you need me,” she said, sitting back in her chair. They continued their stare-off again until the end of the session, shorter today because he was late.

She stood up. “Well, I hope you found this to be another thought-provoking session?” She walked back to her desk and by the time she turned around he was leaving the room. She noted with triumph that her business card was no longer on the table.

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