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Already she was regretting her decision to stay on as Jordan’s therapist—news that she’d broken to Marisa in a brief text. Only sheer strength of nerves had gotten her through a total of four therapy sessions with Jordan so far—and counting. In the past two weeks, he’d shed his crutches—though he still wasn’t close to being completely recovered, of course. In therapy, he’d done the exercises that she’d shown him, including doing hamstring stretches, using a stationary bike and walking on a treadmill. They’d worked
on gaining balance, extension and strength in his knee—with a minimum of quips thrown in.
She admired his powers of recuperation. She ought to be pleased. And yet...her only defense was that she was in charge during their sessions. He was all taut, lean muscle—in his prime and in great shape.
After making sure that everyone at her table was satisfied with their order, she wound her way back across the bar with her now-empty tray. She again tried to shake off the prickly sensation of being watched in a sensual fashion. Jordan had done it in the past, before he’d known who she was, but now it was more pronounced—blatant, even. It should have been the opposite since they were in-laws. He knew she couldn’t be just a casual hookup, because they’d see each other again. Didn’t the guy ever obey a DANGER sign?
She frowned. She ought to remind him about what had happened during spring break eight years ago. She’d been tempted to on several occasions, but her pride had stopped her. The last thing she wanted to do was tell Jordan that she’d been one in a long line of forgettable women.
From the periphery of her vision, she noticed a young brunette sidle up to Jordan and strike up a conversation. After a moment, Jordan smiled and slid into flirtatious mode. Naturally.
Sera belatedly recognized the other woman as Danica Carr, an occasional patron. Not too long ago, she’d been approached by Danica with questions about getting into a physical-therapy program. Angus had told Danica that Sera had worked her way through school by waitressing.
Sera determinedly ignored Jordan and his new friend and kept busy as the bar got more crowded. The distraction of work was a relief, but almost an hour later, she had the beginnings of a low-grade headache. It was a lot of effort pretending Jordan didn’t exist. And he was still talking to Danica.
As she paused at the corner of the bar at the end of her shift, Sera felt her temper spike, or at least lick the edges of her conscious. She untied her apron and stuffed it behind the counter. Once upon a time, she’d been Danica. Young, trusting and on the cusp of making a significant career choice.
These days, she didn’t even go on dating apps. All that swiping left at the end of a long day was exhausting. If she couldn’t trust her instincts about a guy even after months of dating, how could she put her faith in a mere photo on her phone?
Jordan was probably a dating-app star. The thought popped into her head, and she could feel her mouth stretch into a sour line. Whether Danica knew it or not, Jordan was a lion playing with a kitty, and Sera suddenly knew it was up to her to be the lion tamer. She couldn’t stand by and do nothing while another naive young woman got taken in by Jordan Serenghetti.
Sera watched as Danica walked away and rejoined her party at their table. Straightening away from the bar, Sera moved toward Jordan, and at the last moment, he turned his head and noticed her—almost as if he’d known all along exactly where she was.
He was dressed in jeans and a crewneck T-shirt that showed off his biceps—how did he manage to be a walking billboard even injured? His gaze flicked over her, quick but boldly assessing, missing nothing from her breasts to her hips. Still, she refused to be unnerved or to succumb, where most mortal women would be tongue-tied and giggly.
When she stopped in front of him, Jordan remained silent, watchful, his expression for once indecipherable. Fortunately, Marc Bellitti and Vince Tedeschi were caught up in their own conversations at the bar and seemed too distracted to notice.
“Danica is a naive kid,” she said without preamble. “Move on. She’s not in your league.”
Jordan smiled. “You know my league?”
Serafina pressed her lips together. Jordan Serenghetti really was beyond redemption—not that she was in the savior business. “I don’t do bad boys. My mother taught me right.”
Jordan’s expression bloomed into a grin that shot straight through her. “Straitlaced. You need to loosen up.”
Ha! Easy for him to say. He was the guy who was nothing but loose...and went over like smooth cocoa butter with most women.
Though not with me, she reminded herself. Not anymore. “And for the record, you’re my patient. It’s all business between us.”
He glanced around him. “We’re in a bar, not at Astra.”
“But I’m still working.”
He rubbed his chin and then teased, “You’re not a woman who’s bowled over by my charm?”
“Of course not. Far too levelheaded.” These days. It was hard to explain how she’d fallen prey to Neil not so long ago, but maybe she’d been overdue for a lightning strike... Then again, the more she thought about it, the more she wondered whether she’d fallen for Neil precisely because he’d been smooth and worldly and sophisticated. Maybe she’d been determined to prove that she could play in the big leagues and wasn’t helpless little Sera who needed protecting.
“And yet, I sense fire and passion in you,” Jordan murmured.
“That’s because I put you in the hot seat, Serenghetti. I see right through your game.”
He made a show of glancing around him. “You’ve stolen the Razors’ playbook?”
Sera placed her hands on her hips. It wouldn’t be good if Angus noticed her in an argument with a customer—particularly a famous hometown favorite—but fortunately the bar was packed. “You know what I mean. I know your type, and I can read your plays off the ice.”
“Jealous of Danica?”
“Please.”
