Sisters in Love (Snow Sisters, Book One: Love in Bloom Series #1) (19 page)

“Yeah, well.” She looked up at Danica.
“Things change, I guess. Would it be okay?”

“Of course, Kaylie. What’s one more person?”
Camille squeezed Kaylie’s hand.

Danica didn’t have the mental ability to weed
through her sister’s ever-changing feelings about the men in her
life any more than she was able to deal with sitting next to Blake
with his knee less than an inch from hers, his cologne wafting into
her space like a hook reeling her in, and those lonely, confused
eyes calling out to the therapist in her. Her head swooned with
lascivious thoughts, and her desire was out of control, like she
might lean over and kiss him at any moment. She didn’t trust
herself.

She looked down and focused on the meal
before her. She could pick up a fork and find her mouth. She could
pick up a drink and suck it down. Baby steps, she told herself.
Danica focused on the clanking of forks to plates, the discussions
about the toast of the best man, and she tried her hardest to pay
attention to the bits and pieces of Kaylie’s conversation with
Marie, but her head was full of conflict and her heart was full of
lust for Blake.

Finally, the meal ended and she saw an
escape. Danica stood from the table. “I have an early day tomorrow,
so I’m afraid I’m going to bow out early tonight.” She managed her
most sincere smile. “Camille, Jeffrey, thank you. I’m really
excited about your wedding. It’s going to be amazing.”

She hurried from the restaurant and into the
safety of her car. Danica banged her head on the steering wheel and
let her head rest there while she asked herself why she was acting
like such an idiot.

A knock on the window startled her.

Blake was peering through the window. She
took a deep breath and rolled it down. The cold air whipped through
the car. “Mr. Carter,” she said in her most professional voice.

“Danica, can we talk?”

“Sure, Monday.” She looked straight ahead,
not at Blake.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring your work
into this and ruin your night. I just needed to talk.” Honesty and
worry laced his every word.

“It’s all right. It’s not that.”

“It wasn’t? What did I do? What did I
say?”

She stole a look at him, and if she could
feel a heart tear into shreds, hers was doing it right then. His
face was stricken with confusion. Danica opened the door and
stepped from the car. She didn’t know if it was a good idea or not,
but it was as if her legs had a mind of their own, and they were
headed toward the side of the restaurant. He followed beside
her.

Stars illuminated the clear sky like hundreds
of tiny beacons of light. They walked along the side of the
building to an outside dining area that was used only in the summer
and offered a spectacular view of the snowy mountaintops.

“Blake, I’m not sure we should—”

He stepped in front of her, cutting off her
words, and looked down at her with an intense gaze. “Please, don’t
push me away. You’ve done more for me in the past few weeks than
anyone has done for me ever. In my whole life.”

The thin, gray line she desperately wanted to
cross held more than just right or wrong. Her career hung in the
balance. Danica felt her body being drawn closer to him.
God
help me
. The heat that emanated between them had a pulse of its
own. She knew in that moment that she was done being his
therapist—maybe even being a therapist altogether.

He put his hands on her arms, and she tried
again to disconnect from the warmth beneath them.

“I don’t mean to keep screwing things up. I
know there’s a client-therapist relationship, and I don’t mean to
cross any lines.”

She looked down at his hands on her arms, her
breasts moving up and down with each heavy breath. Her voice failed
her. Had she misinterpreted his actions?

“You set me straight,” he said. “You
listened; you helped me; you didn’t just fawn over me. I need
that.”

Great. I’m a good therapist
. Danica
pushed her shoulders back, and his hands dropped to his sides.
“That’s what I’m here for,” she said. Her hands felt heavy, like
they didn’t belong hanging by her sides. She longed to lift them,
touch his hips, place her fingertips on his lower back and pull him
in close.

“I can’t talk to anyone the way I talk to
you,” he admitted.

“It’s part of the charm of being a
therapist,” she said. It was common for clients to be attracted to
their therapists, she told herself, but not common, or acceptable,
for it to be the other way around.
Damn it
. Had she jumped
the gun? Was it foolish to think about giving up her career? Maybe
he didn’t want her in
that
way after all.

“I used to be able to ignore all the bad
stuff around me, but now, now I process it in a way I never thought
I would, or even could. The strange thing is that everything I’m
processing, I realize they’re things that I never want to do. I’m
done hurting people. And what’s even stranger is that when it
happens, when I’m in the midst of these…revelations…all I want to
do is pick up the phone and call you.”

Oh God. Was it possible for her legs to stop
working? She resumed walking down a paved path through the trees
just to be sure she wouldn’t melt right there and then. Moonlight
sparkled above them, illuminating the Christmas lights that the
restaurant kept in the trees year-round. If she weren’t so
conflicted, Danica might think she was having the most romantic
night of her life. Instead, she had to be careful how she responded
to his admission. She stopped walking and faced him head on. She’d
always believed in honesty, and it had served her well. Under the
light of the moon, speaking to the only man to make her stomach
flutter in months, if not years, she took the path of honesty once
again.

“I don’t think we should do this anymore,”
she said. There. She said it. Her stomach hurt, her heart ached,
and she held her breath, waiting for his response.

“Walk?” he joked.

Despite her nerves, she laughed.

“I need you, Danica,” he said.

But not in the same way I’m needing you
lately
.

“I don’t think I can sort through all of this
without you.” He lifted his hand to touch her cheek, and she
watched his face change as he caught himself and dropped it to his
side instead. “I’m sorry if I screwed this up,” he said
honestly.

How long could she play this game? Did she
seriously misread him? Did he want her to just be his therapist?
The words flew from her mouth before she could stop them. “Damn it,
Blake. Is it just me, or is there something more here? I feel like
a high school girl crushing on the football player, and yet there
you are, telling me that you need me as your therapist, but your
body language—”

He touched her cheek, giving away nothing
with his serious eyes.

Shit
. “Well, okay,” she said.
Damn
it
. Tears welled in her eyes. She was such a fool. Why didn’t
she leave well enough alone? She turned to leave, and Blake caught
her by the arm.

“You mean, you
like
me, like me?” he
asked.

She didn’t answer.

“You like me. You
like
me?” A grin
spread across his beautiful lips.

“Okay, enough. I’ll refer you to a new
therapist.”
And find a new career
. “I’m sorry for my
unprofessionalism.”

In the next breath, he drew her body against
his own and wrapped her in the warmth of his arms. His lips pressed
against hers, the sensual, intoxicating smell of him penetrating
her senses, and she relaxed into his embrace. His tongue explored
her mouth with sensuality, not rushing or taking her, but savoring
her, tasting her. His hands spread across her back, and she was
lost in his kiss, and the smell of his cologne, and the night air
across her warm cheeks. She felt lighter than air, as if she were
floating away on a cloud. His lips softened, and he placed gentle
kisses on her pulsating lips.

“I thought it was just me,” he admitted.

Danica’s trembling hands were rooted to his
back, her eyes glued to his. She ached to kiss him again, but the
therapist in her knew better. Even if she was going to throw away
her career, she still knew right from wrong. “We can’t do this.
It’s wrong. You’re my client—or were my client—or whatever.”
Oh
God. Help me
.

“I am your client.”

“I can’t have a relationship with my client.
It’s unethical.” She was powerless to pull herself from his
arms.

“I need you as my therapist.” He kissed her
again. “I want you as my girlfriend.”

Danica pulled away. “I could lose my license.
I can’t do this.”
I want to do this
. She’d been so careful
about who she dated and how she handled herself in her professional
and personal life. She should know better than to throw that away
for a man who was in only the beginning stages of his therapy. But
she could not deny the desire that stretched from her fingertips to
her toes and burrowed into every nook and cranny in between.
Crap
. Her legs carried her in the direction of the parking
lot.

“Danica, wait.” He came after her, falling in
step beside her. “I do need your help with my personal life,
getting on track, understanding things.”

“I can’t help you with that now.” She stopped
walking and turned toward him, her voice angrier than she’d thought
it would be. “We kissed, Blake. We can’t kiss. I can’t be your
therapist now that we’ve kissed. It’s not right.”

The silence between them was broken only by
the night breeze through the trees. For the first time in her life,
Danica didn’t have an answer. She stormed away, a mountainous lump
pushing against her throat. By the time she reached her car, tears
streaked her cheeks like rain.

Sunday morning found Danica puffy-eyed and
listless. She’d spent the night angry at herself, sexually
frustrated, and worst of all, she knew she’d let down a client—a
very hot client who also needed her help.

She went through her morning routine like an
automaton, showering, dressing in her pre-finding-herself boring
attire of black slacks and a gray, cashmere sweater. She gave up on
her wild hair and left the house with what her mother might have
called her sixties' Afro look. She didn’t give a damn. She’d lived
her life carefully, always putting work and professionalism before
her own needs, and she’d been proud of who she was. She’d thrown
that all away in one night—over one goddamned kiss. Any way she
looked at it, she was an idiot. Now her client was left to fend for
himself—no, she’d find him another therapist. More importantly, she
couldn’t help but wonder if she had walked away from the one man
whom she might actually have been falling for. Thoughts of the way
he’d jumped into changing his behavior, mostly on his own accord,
flitted through her mind. His serious and sad eyes when he spoke of
how he didn’t want to hurt anyone anymore bored into her. If she
were truthful with herself and remembered the way he’d eyed the
blonde, she’d tell herself what she might tell Kaylie about a guy
like him:
Get over him.
Once a player, always a
player
. Despite knowing what was best, and what was dangerous,
Danica still couldn’t stop thinking about him. Thank God she had
Michelle to distract her today.

Danica was glad to see Nola back on her feet,
pink-cheeked and bright-eyed, when she picked up Michelle. Michelle
was dressed in her typical black attire, but when they stepped from
the car and headed toward the bakery, Michelle pulled the
multicolored scarf from her purse and wrapped it around her
neck.

“I love that look on you,” Danica said.

“I feel funny wearing it around the kids at
school, but I do love it. Thank you,” Michelle said.

They sat at their usual table by the window.
Michelle ate her croissant and watched Danica pick at hers.

“Are you okay today?” Michelle asked.

Danica tried to smile, but felt her cheeks
fall flat. “Yeah, just a little tired.” She was the Big Sister.
Danica knew she’d better pull her act together, for Michelle’s
sake.

A group of four teens burst through the door.
Michelle cast a quick look at them, then cowered into her chair,
expertly shaking her head so her hair fell over her cheek—a
ready-made veil.

Danica took note of the effervescent teens,
laughing and joking in the way kids did at that age—too loud and
ignorant to notice or care about the stares of others. She watched
Michelle take another quick glance at them. When they’d first begun
going out for breakfast, Michelle had picked that particular bakery
because she said no one from her school would go there. Now she sat
with her shoulders hunched, tugging at one end of her scarf, slowly
unwrapping it from around her neck. It was clasped between her
hands when the tallest boy came and stood beside the table. His
hair flopped trendily over his eyes, the rest at a shaggy-chic, ear
level.

“I know you,” he said, not in an unkind
way.

Danica watched silently, feeling the pain of
Michelle’s embarrassment.

“Hey,” Michelle said without looking up.

“What’s up?” he said to Michelle, then turned
toward Danica. “Hey, I’m Brad.” He waved, then put his hands in his
sweatshirt pockets.

“Hi, Brad. I’m Danica,
Michelle’s…friend.”

The boy stood there, a friendly smile
plastered on his face. He looked from Michelle to his friends, then
back at Michelle again.

Danica wanted to say something to break the
awkward silence, but she knew teens too well. The wrong thing could
set them off.

“Great scarf,” he said.

Michelle smiled beneath her hair.

“Come on, B-man,” another boy hollered.

“Hey, we’re heading to the Village. Wanna
go?” He looked at Michelle with the same friendly smile that had
been there since he'd arrived at the table.