Feels So Right

Wesley’s silence made her look up from scooping her own ice cream. He was staring at her, shaking his head. “Strange.”

“What is?”

“I don’t ever remember you talking about a client so much.”

Blush. Inevitable. Unwelcome. Grrr. “He’s an interesting case.”

“Uh … ruptured disc? Dime a dozen.”

“No, but I mean …” What did she mean? She sat down and lost herself in her first bite of Häagen-Dazs heaven instead of trying to figure it out.

“What else could be unusual?” He pretended to count on his fingers. “Had to give up an athletic career, I think you’ve seen that before. Trouble adjusting to new reality of his body, ditto …”

“Yes. I know, but—”

“Me?” He put his counting fingers away and dived into his dessert again. “I think you’re hot for this guy.”

“No. No way. No. That is ridiculous. Completely—” She broke off, wrinkling her nose. “I’m objecting too much, aren’t I.”

“You said it, not me.”

“Okay, okay.” She licked her spoon and heaped up another bite, making sure it had plenty of chocolate-covered almonds in it. “He’s hot. So what?”

“So what are you going to do?”

“Do? I’m going to help his pain, teach him how to manage the injury, try to show him that his life isn’t over and wish him well. What did you think?”

“I don’t know, ask him out?”

“A client? Don’t think so.”

“We went out.”

“You asked me. After we finished working together.”

“Make his treatment short, then ask him out. Or I know.” He brightened. “Send him to a friend. What about whatsername, Julie, who you used to—”

“He came to me, I’m his physical therapist and I will treat him.”

“Ooh.” Wesley narrowed his eyes. “Mighty possessive, aren’t we.”

“Professional. Why are you so anxious to foist me off on this poor man?”

He reached across the table and ruffled her hair, chuckling. “Because I know you well enough to know that the more you like a guy—if the way you acted with me was any indication—the colder and more professional you become. So he probably has no idea that you’re leaving drool spots on his blanket.”

“Am not.” She gave him a sidelong glance. “Okay, that one was a mistake.”

Wesley cracked up. “Okay, okay. But I’m right. So think about it.”

“Yes, master.” He was right about the way she acted around guys she was attracted to. In high school, for four long years she’d been passionately in puppy love with Brad Johnston. Time after time she’d been in situations where she could have gotten to know him. School paper. School plays. Social-activity committee meetings. But the more she adored him, the less she spoke to him. So guess what, they never went out. Someday she was going to run across him, grab him and plant on him that kiss she’d fantasized about every night. The guy would have no idea what had happened. He probably didn’t even remember her.

However, in this case, her shyness was a good thing. If Colin caught wind of her attraction he could cause unpleasantness that would damage her professional reputation.

“In any case, I’m mostly interested in helping him.”

“I know. That’s what I love about you.” Wesley let his spoon fall back into his bowl and heaved himself out of the chair, something he couldn’t have done that well even six months earlier. “I should go. This was fabulous, thanks. Need help with the dishes?”

“Nah. They all go in the dishwasher.”

She gave him a hug, congratulated him again on his successful second date with Cathy the previous evening and sent him shuffling off. His balance was much improved from when she’d started working with him two years earlier, but his gait was still not the graceful stride he must have had before the accident. She hoped Cathy fell madly in love with him. Hell, she wished she could have fallen madly in love with him. But Demi too often seemed to go for men who wouldn’t look twice at her. Sometimes she thought she was sabotaging herself. Other times she figured it was because she essentially made herself invisible around the guys she wanted.

Love and relationships were so confusing, sometimes she wished she didn’t want either one.

She carried the ice-cream bowls to the sink, rinsed and stuck all the dishes in the dishwasher, then curled up in her favorite recliner with her knitting and the audiobook she’d been making piss-poor progress on in the past few days ready to play on her iPod. Great story about a guy who thought he—

Phone.

She sighed and put down her knitting. She looked at the display and sighed again, louder. Carrie, her sister. Demi wasn’t in the mood. But if she didn’t answer now, Carrie would call back and leave increasingly hysterical messages about how she was starting to picture Demi lying dead in her apartment. Carrie never used to be that neurotic, but in the past few months she’d gotten more clingy and more intensely … herself.

“Hi, Carrie.”

“Hey, little sister. How’s everything?”

“Good.” She braced herself. Of course she’d have to ask the question back, only her sister wouldn’t be able to answer in one syllable. She’d need at least a hundred. And all her “problems” would be these amazingly impressive ones that made Demi feel like cow poo. “How about you?”

“Crazy, crazy busy. Dan got another promotion, which means he’s traveling nearly the entire week every week, and keeps missing the kids’ school stuff. Rachel got the lead in their second-grade play, and Boris started the Suzuki violin program at his preschool. I’m actually busy selling houses, which I can’t believe, considering how strange the market has been.”

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