Page 41 of Luke, The Profiler

Chapter Eleven

The Fly

I slid into my desk chair at four minutes to three. Usually I liked to prepare before a client meeting; review notes on who they were, what their business and family life was like, and what their long-term goals were. I’d then go over material pertaining to the specific elements of their lives—body weight and personal acceptance, family crisis, fertility issues, low self-esteem, career stagnation—with the idea of brainstorming with the client on how they can make their lives better.

But with the imprint of Luke’s kiss still throbbing on my lips, it was all I could do to remember how to log in.

Thankfully I got it right, and the screen went live just as the office door I’d closed suddenly swung open. Luke wandered in with two cups of what I suspected was coffee from my favorite coffeeshop in hand.

I jumped out of my seat like I worked on a spring. “Luke—”

“I had one of the guys run out to replace the coffee you left behind earlier,” he said, handing a cup over before making himself comfortable on a plush gray loveseat covered in a baby pink throw.

That was sweet of him, but boundaries were boundaries. “Luke, leave. And close the door behind you, this is a private session.”

“I’m a psychiatrist, remember? I understand better than anyone that whatever I hear in this office is between you and your client.” He toasted me with his coffee. “I’m the best-qualified bodyguard to be in the same room with the body we’re guarding while that body is working, so put your nose to the grindstone and get to work. You won’t even notice I’m here.”

“You can’t be serious,” I gritted out between bared teeth, proving he was right about how I jaw-clenched when I was angry. That was a tell I’d have to work on when I wasn’t wanting to strangle him with my bare hands. “The contract I signed said I would have certain autonomy in my day-to-day life.”

“Whenever possible,” he added, clearly knowing the wording within the contract far better than me. “I’ve reviewed the circumstances, and I’ve concluded that it’s not possible to leave you on your own.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because I’m not going to put up with being away from you in another fucking room when we’re under the same roof. It’s three o’clock, by the way.”

“What? Oh.” I stared at him, trying to figure out if his words made me want to kill him more or round the desk and join him on the loveseat. “They haven’t logged in yet. Look—”

“I’m not leaving,” he cut in, and the stubborn jut of his chin was clear all the way across the room. “You’re still mad at me, so I’m going to bug you until you give up on being mad at me. Personally I think it’s a brilliant strategy.”

Brilliant strategy? Clearly this was one psychiatrist who needed some psychiatric work of his own. I opened my mouth to tell him as much when a chime on my desktop sounded.

“Hello? Uh, is that Eden Steadfast standing there?”

Hastily I glanced at the monitor, saw that I was showing the webcam a fabulous view of my torso, and immediately plopped back down into my seat.

Luke, the bastard, smiled from his place on the loveseat and sipped his coffee.

“Good afternoon, Howard.” Mentally I patted myself on the back for remembering my client’s name. Now, if only I could forget Luke and his overwhelming presence over there on my freaking loveseat, I’d be all set. “Sorry, I’ve got a, um, a pesky fly in my office. It’s a bit distracting, but now that it’s time for your session, you’ve got my full attention.” I opened the file nearest me—thank God it actually had something to do with my client and wasn’t just a random prop—and tried to focus. “It’s been a couple weeks since we last spoke, and you were dealing with the feeling that everything was total chaos around you, making it impossible for you to decide what steps you needed to take in both your personal and professional life. By any chance, did you try some of the suggestions I came up with during our last session?” As I spoke, I caught Luke’s scowl when I likened him to a pesky fly before he set aside his coffee and rolled to his feet.

Uh-oh.

“I did, Eden, and I can’t tell you what a difference you made in my outlook.” As my client spoke, Luke silently glided over to my desk, plucked a pen and a notepad from my desk, then for some odd reason, went over to the bookcase across from me and rearranged some books. “Your suggestion of taking control of my surroundings and putting each room of my apartment in order was such a calming exercise, and a perfect metaphor for what I needed to do with my life…”

Ah. Now I understood. There had to be a camera placed where Luke had adjusted the books. That was where I’d had to sweep up the drywall dust.

Wait.

Did Luke just cover up the camera?

“It’s almost become like a ritual I now go through whenever I start to feel an anxiety attack coming on,” Howard went on. “I just take a deep breath, look around at the junk I’ve allowed to clutter up my life, and methodically go through it to see what needs to be kept, and what I need to let go of. Not only am I getting an ever-cleaner house that I can be proud of, I’m also getting a clearer view of how to get rid of the things in my life I no longer need. I just need to decide to… to let go.”

“I’m so pleased to hear how you’re being methodical as you gain control over aspects of your life, Howard.” I tried to keep my eyes on the screen, but I could still see Luke turning back toward my desk, scrawling something on the notepad. “Decluttering your surroundings is a conscious step in decluttering your life, and it’s not always easy to figure out what you need, versus what you need to let go of. Tell me, what’s your process in making these decisions?” I could only hope I sounded like my usual professional self, because I wasn’t really paying that much attention to the gibberish coming out of my mouth. I was much too focused on Luke, who stopped in front of my desk, turned the pad around, and showed me what he’d written.

Fly? Are you talking about me?

I shifted in my chair, using the motion to cover a minute nod. Duh. Of course I was talking about him. He was the only pesky pest in the office, after all.

“Well,” Howard said, his earnest voice floating in one ear and out the other, “I went through those questions you suggested I ask myself. For instance…”

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