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Or you should have got off your arse and gone to the shop yourself. Honestly, do I have to do everything in this house?
“Dr Craven will see you now,” Tara says with a knowing smile.
Giddy with nerves, I glide through receptiontoward Nick’s office, my movements slow and heavy like I’m wading through deep water. Stalling outside the office door, I smoothdown my hair, straighten up my collar, take a deep breath and turn the knob. I’ve spent the whole week anticipating this moment, and my eagerness has now reached fever pitch.
Cautiously, I enter the room and find Nick shrouded in shadow, standing by the window with his back to me. Even before he turns around, he’s penetrating my senses, causing a monumental swell of desire between my legs. I’m almost high with excitement as my gaze travels over his broad shoulders, slender waist and perfectly formed backside.
Good God, I need to touch him.
Dazed and breathless, I whisper hello. At the sound of my voice, Nick turns around and smiles disarmingly. “Hello, Carly. Good to see you again.”
“It’s good to see you, too.” My crazy giggles erupt, and I want the ground to swallow me up. My nerves are shot to pieces.Why does he always have this effect on me?
With predatory grace, Nick walks toward me and asks for my coat. Without waiting for a reply, he twirls me around slowly, teasingly, his large hands cupping my shoulders as he slides down my sleeves, milking a small cry from my lips.
I give him a quick smile to hide my embarrassment. “Hey, I brought you something.”
He returns from the coat rack with a quizzical expression. “Oh?”
Silently, I pass him a purple gift bag. He reaches inside and pulls out a neatly wrapped package. He frowns at me, and I grin goofily. Carefully, he tears off the tissue paper to reveal a grey-and-black scarf made from particularly fine wool. He studies it a moment, caresses the material gently with his fingers, and then fixes his gaze on me.
“Thank you,” he whispers, eyes flickering with emotion. “It’s been so long since anyone bought me a present.” Something has stirred inside him, I can feel it. In some profound way, I know that I’ve touched him.
“I made it myself,” I declare proudly.
“Wow, then that makes it even more special. I promise to cherish it always.” He pauses, his eyes never leaving my face. “Who taught you to crochet?”
“My mother.”
“How quaint. It’s nice to know that the younger generation is still keeping the old pastimes alive.”
I frown.What an odd thing to say.
“So,” he continues, “I take it you like creating things.”
“Oh, yes. Ever since I was little, I’ve loved making presents for people.”
He laughs pleasantly. “What did you study at university?”
“Textile Design.”
“So, you’re a qualified designer?”
I make a noncommittal sound.
“Then shouldn’t you be doing something that exploits your creativity? Why are you working as a receptionist and not following your dreams?”
“Because I never actually finished my degree.”
“Oh. Why not?”
I look away, flustered. “I-I don’t know ...” There’s an uncomfortable silence. He regards me steadily, searching my face for answers. I’m the first to speak. “Look, Nick, I’m sorry. That came out wrong. What I really meant was, I don’t want to talk about it. It’s kind of a long story, and not one I enjoy telling, if I’m honest.”
“That’s quite all right. If you don’t feel comfortable talking about it, that’s absolutely fine.” Nick wraps the scarf around his neck and gestures to the padded chairs. “Shall we?”
Smiling, I take a seat opposite him and kick off my shoes, ready to begin the session.
“I think the treatment’s working,” I say brightly. “Since last week, I haven’t once craved a cigarette.”
