There was only one word to describe her—exquisite.

In my entire life, I’d never been so completely captivated by another human being. As soon as she stepped into my office, I was completely caught off guard by my body’s reaction to her: my pulse started to race, my body temperature rose, and sweat began to bead along my brow. I couldn’t help myself. She was a true beauty, like an angel with a body that looked like it had been sculpted by God himself. Her long, almost white, blonde hair flowed down her delicate shoulders, accentuating the ocean-blue color of her eyes. As she walked past me, the soft essence of lavender and vanilla filled the room, seducing my senses in a way that had me imagining her in my bed. I could almost feel her there, nestled in my arms as I inhaled her scent. This was not a good way to start a session. I was a complete mess as I made my way over to my chair. When I reached for my notepad, my eyes met hers, and my heart stopped cold. The way her eyes pierced straight through me made me wonder if she’d noticed the effect she was having on me. Had I managed to hide it, or had she realized from the moment she walked into the room, I’d been imagining her sprawled out on my desk as I explored every inch of her body? I was fucked.

I’d come across beautiful women before, but none had ever tempted me in such a way—none had ever made me consider risking my entire career for just one moment, just one touch, one taste. It was all I could think about. She was my every desire wrapped up in a beautiful, but damaged package. I knew I was in trouble. I knew I was crossing boundaries, but curiosity had gotten the best of me. It was the only thing keeping me from showing her the door. I had to know what brought her into my office.

I sat there marveling at her intoxicating beauty and couldn’t understand why she was single, and I certainly couldn’t understand why her mother didn’t think she was absolutely perfect. She was smart, independent, and had a body that could bring any man to his knees. Needing to know everything about her, I asked, “Could you expound upon some of the issues you’ve had with the men you’ve dated?”

Her teeth clamped down on her bottom lip, letting me know that she was contemplating her response. “I don’t know. I’m sure it’s the same for everyone.” She shrugged and continued, “At first, it’s like you’ve found the perfect guy. He’s handsome and charming. He does all the right things … says all the right things, and everything seems to be going great.”

I waited for a moment, giving her time to think. Her nose twitched as she gave me a look of indifference. “But over time, things start to change.”

I knew exactly what she was saying, but I wanted to hear her take on it. “How so?”

Her brow arched as she waved her hands. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s just me. Maybe my expectations are too high.”

“It’s perfectly normal to feel let down when things don’t turn out like you hoped they would,” I tried to assure her. “We all want to find that perfect someone, but it doesn’t happen overnight.”

Her chin lifted, and once again, her beautiful eyes met mine. I wanted to think that I was getting somewhere with her, but when I noticed a flicker of doubt in them, I knew then she still needed some convincing. She sighed in frustration. “I just don’t understand why it has to be so hard. It shouldn’t be this difficult. It has to be me. I must not be wired right or something.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Grace. It’s not all your fault. You know what they say, ‘it takes two to tango.’”

“Maybe so, but I know I’m not helping matters.” She leaned her head back and stared up at the ceiling. “I just don’t understand men. It’s like they’re creatures from another planet.”

“Just so you know, men feel the same way about women.” I laughed as I told her, “They’ve even written books about it … lots of them.”

“Pfft,” she scoffed. “Women aren’t all that complicated. At least with us, what you see is what you get.”

“Hmm … You’re kidding, right?”

“Yeah. I guess some women can be a little complicated.” She sighed. “But I think guys try to be complicated on purpose.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“You know. They do stupid stuff to keep a girl guessing … like they text to ask what you’re doing, and after you respond, they don’t text back for another three hours. It’s just a way to keep you off guard, right?”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

“Then, why else would they do it?”

“You may not like my answer.” I snickered.

Sarcasm dripped from her words as she replied, “Oh, no. I’d love to hear it.”

“Well, maybe it’s as simple as he got busy, or maybe you didn’t respond the way he hoped you would. Or maybe his mood changed, and he wasn’t up for talking. It could be any number of reasons, but it isn’t something you should take to heart.”

“Whatever.” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she muttered, “I think it means he isn’t really interested.”

“That’s a possibility, but in your case, I highly doubt it.” Her eyebrows furrowed as her eyes widened with surprise. The words had slipped from my mouth before I’d taken the time to think. I quickly tried to cover my tracks by asking, “Have you ever mentioned your concerns to the men you’ve dated?”

“When I have, they’ve always found a way to turn it all around on me, so I’ve gotten to where I just don’t care.”

I knew she was lying. She cared. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t be sitting on my sofa talking to me. “You never know. You could always ask them how they think the relationship is going.”

“Hmm … I don’t think so. If you have to ask a guy if he loves you, it takes some of the magic out of it, you know?”

“If you love someone, you have to keep the lines of communication open. It’s the only way to make sure you both are on the same page.”

She propped her elbow on the arm of the sofa and rested her chin on the palm of her hand. Her eyes roamed over me for a moment, then an enlightened smile spread across her face. “Oh, I get it. You’re one of those romantic types, aren’t you? You think love is the answer to everything?”

“No. Not at all. I don’t think there is just one answer to anything.”

“I’m glad to hear that, because I don’t think there’s enough love in the world to make a man pick up his dirty clothes off the floor. I mean, I’d settle for not finding his dirty socks on my living room floor. I can’t decide if they are simply that lazy, or if they’re doing it just to tick me off.”

“That’s a common problem. I have a question for you. What happens to the laundry he doesn’t pick it up?”

“I might give it a couple of days, but eventually I’ll pick it up myself and carry it into the laundry room.”

“And the socks?”

“The same.” Her brows creased with anger as she threw her hands up in the air and scolded, “Wait a minute! Don’t tell me it’s my fault that my exes didn’t pick up their dirty laundry!”

Watching her get all riled up turned me on in a way I couldn’t even begin to describe. I loved seeing that fire inside her, and I wanted more, much more. I adjusted myself in my seat and tried to bite back my smile. “No, Grace. That’s not what I’m saying at all. I’m just saying sometimes men need a little push.”

“Yeah … off a cliff,” she scoffed. She looked back over to me with a concerned expression. “I didn’t mean that.”

“Then, maybe we’re making progress.”

“Maybe so. Who would’ve thought a hot psychiatrist would actually be able to help.” Her cheeks turned a bright shade of pink as she realized what she said, and her little slip hinted that we might both be on the same page. “I mean … you seem to have an answer for everything.”

She was simply stunning. I wanted to give her more than answers. I wanted to pin her against the wall and show her how everything about her was driving me wild. Instead, I answered, “No. Not everything. Just the easy stuff.”

Her eyes roamed over me in an almost a provocative manner, making me wonder if she’d felt the same electric connection I’d been feeling since the moment she walked into my office. “So, if you know the answers to the easy stuff, then I’m guessing you know why men never ask for directions or why they leave the seat up.”

“Hmm … those aren’t exactly easy.” I chuckled.

A sense of satisfaction washed over her as she looked at me and smiled. Damn. I adored that smile. It was clear that I was making strides with her, but there was something more to her story. She hadn’t come to see me just to complain about the poor behavior of her ex-lovers. There had to be some other reason. I looked at her, trying to imagine what it could be, and I was still lost in thought, when she said, “It may be inappropriate for me to ask this, but are you married, or do you have a girlfriend?”

I was surprised but intrigued that she’d asked. “No, I’m not married and no girlfriend. It’s totally fine. For today, this is a two-way street. You can ask me anything.”

Her demeanor quickly changed as a mischievous smile spread across her face, and I should’ve taken that as a warning. “Are you sure about that?”

“Absolutely.”

Her voice was filled with excitement as she replied, “Okay. How about a little speed round of questions? Nothing too major. Just enough to let me know what I’m working with here.”

“Okay, but I’ll expect you to do the same for me when we’re done.”

“Sure. I’m good with that.”

Her enthusiasm was rubbing off on me as I placed my notepad on the side table and leaned back in my chair. “All right then, go for it.”

“Don’t think. Just answer,” she ordered with a smile. Her entire demeanor had changed. She was no longer on edge, and she actually seemed to be enjoying herself.

“This isn’t my first rodeo, princess. Give me what you’ve got.”

She adjusted herself in her seat and a spark of excitement flashed through her eyes as she asked, “Cats or dogs?”

“Dogs. A big one—like a mastiff. Not some yappy little thing.”

“Okay. Favorite sport?”

“Baseball.”

“Favorite movie?”

“Just one?”

She frowned at my question. “Yes. Think fast.”

“The Green Mile, or any movie with Tom Hanks.”

“Morning person or night person?”

“Night.”

“Favorite place to travel?”

“The beach.” I barely had time to think before she rolled out the next question.

“To-ma-toe or To-mah-toe?

“To-ma-toe.”

“Name one thing that freaks you out?”

“Hair in the drain.”

That one made her giggle, and my heart nearly leapt out of my chest. I found myself wanting to hear the sound again and again.

“Do you have any friends who are women, and I mean strictly friends? No messing around … not even a single kiss.”

“Yes. One. She was my neighbor growing up. A few years younger than me, and no, we’ve never kissed—not even once.”

Each question came quickly, which would make anyone think that there was no rhyme or reason to their delivery, but I knew better. Not only was she beautiful, but she was smart, too.

“Do you leave the toilet seat up?”

“Yes, but in my defense, I live alone.”

“Okay. I’ll let that one slide.” She shook her head slightly and smiled. “Okay, scary movies? Yes or no?”

“No way.”

“Do you have any kids?”

“No.”

She strummed her fingers against the end of the sofa as each question popped in her head. “Do you want to have kids?”

“Someday.”

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“Yes. I have a younger brother, Tucker, and an older brother, Colton.”

“Have you ever been heartbroken?”

“Yes.”

“Are you close with your mother?”

“I guess so.”

With an intrigued look, she asked, “Okay … Do you call her more than once every six months?”

“Yes.”

“Then you’re close.” She teased. Before I had a chance to respond, she asked, “Longest relationship?”

“Four years.”

She paused for a moment, letting me know she was surprised by my answer. I didn’t blame her. Four years is a long time to date without it going anywhere, but when all was said and done, we’d both realized our time together had come to an end. Grace quickly rebounded, and a spark of mischief flashed through her eyes as she continued, “Boxers or briefs?”

That’s when I knew—things were about to get interesting.