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Tell me about it.
“By the way, how’s it going with my favorite hockey player?”
“Who?” she joked.
Dante bit off a laugh. “Jordan Serenghetti, of course.”
Sera debated how to answer. Obviously, I nearly slept with him was not the right choice. “He’s visiting the clinic weekly and...coming along nicely.”
“And you’re still his physical therapist?” her brother asked gingerly.
Therapist, in-law, hookup—did the label really matter? “Yup.”
Dante relaxed and sat back in his chair. “I knew I could count on you, Sera.”
“I didn’t say he’d be able to start the season. We’re still weeks away from any medical clearance.” She took a bite of her chicken parmigiana.
Dante nodded. “But you’re helping me get off on the right foot at the office. I’ve dropped the information into key conversations that my sister is Jordan Serenghetti’s physical therapist.”
“Yup, you owe me one.” Wouldn’t Rosana Perini be surprised to know that Sera was helping Dante instead of the other way around? “Don’t worry, I
’ll keep your dirty little secret from Mom. The halo will stay intact.”
“You’re priceless, sis.”
“It’s a big favor.” Probably the biggest that Dante had ever asked of her, come to think of it. All her instincts had told her to dump Jordan as a client as soon as possible—he was too much for her to handle on every level, and she’d been miserable at keeping it professional—but she was sticking it out for her brother’s sake.
“Oh, come on, Jordan Serenghetti isn’t that bad. I’ll bet there are plenty of hockey fans in the ranks of physical therapists who’d love to have him as a client.”
“I’m not one of them.” She just planned to survive the coming couple of months or so at her job—somehow—and be done. Before anyone discovered her dirty little secret—which she’d make Jordan swear to take to the grave.
Seven
She could do this. Sera sucked in a breath as she prepared to face Jordan Serenghetti again for the first time since that night. It was already Wednesday afternoon and time for their next therapy session. Somehow, she had to do an impossible balancing act between remaining professional and having a frank conversation that addressed moving forward from Saturday’s events.
If their families caught even a whiff of this... situation, that there was more to it than Jordan just lending her his car, it would be like a powder keg exploding. She’d never hear the end of it, never live it down. Everyone would look at her and Jordan and know.
She had to make the potential repercussions clear to Jordan—if he didn’t understand them already. And she also had to put the genie back in the bottle regarding what happened eight years ago—all in the hour or so they had for their therapy session.
She rolled her eyes. She could do this. How hard could it be? She was dealing with a love ’em and leave ’em type who tossed baggage overboard and bailed... He should have no trouble agreeing to keep things under wraps, right?
But yesterday’s delivery from the florist, arranged by Jordan, had made her think she had her work cut out for her.
And unfortunately, she was still driving his car—inhaling his scent and touching his belongings. She told herself that was the reason she couldn’t get him out of her mind. And she had to concede it had been a nice thing to do to lend her his ride—a very expensive luxury sedan tricked out with leather upholstery and all the latest gadgets that made her beat-up secondhand car look like a horse and buggy. Her own vehicle continued to be in the shop for repairs, and she’d had to make time-consuming calls to her insurance company.
As she stepped into the exam room at Astra Therapeutics, her gaze came to rest on Jordan leaning against the treatment table. Having no need for crutches anymore, he looked even more formidable.
He was dressed in a T-shirt and jeans. Really, what the man could do to a pair of jeans—let alone underwear—was sinful. And he was looking at her as if she were a pint of his favorite ice cream and he was a spoon.
Being this close to him for the first time after Saturday night caused memories to flood back. Her pulse picked up, and she fought the sudden visceral urge to fit back into his arms and pick up where they’d left off. Have mercy. This was going to be even harder than she’d thought.
“Hello, sunshine.”
“We’re here for your rehab.” She set down her clipboard. Staying businesslike helped her not lose her mind. She planned to address their never-to-be-repeated Saturday night. Just not quite yet. She needed to work up to it and then make it short and sweet.
He looked deep into her eyes. “I missed you after you left.”
So much for steering him in a different direction. “Well, I’m here now.”
