Revived

It’s good that he’s dating, and he’s clearly not drinking, judging from the lemonade he just ordered.

But his date is a bit handsy. I have a full show of her hand on his thigh, inching its way up. He has to keep stopping when she gets too high. Really, he should just tell her to knock it off. I mean, of course, it’s not bothering me. I just don’t think you should grope someone in public at dinner.

An image of Leandro’s hand sliding up my thigh flashes through my mind, and I feel myself grow hot.

I take a drink of my wine to cool off.

Just focus on your food and the pleasant conversation and Dan sitting next to me.

Not the man on my left.

Or his handsy date.

Kat Whisker.

The laugh I held back earlier slips out, which I quickly cover with a cough. Dan glances at me and then goes back to talking to Carrick.

I can feel Leandro’s eyes on me, but I won’t look at him.

But then again, maybe not looking at him is even more obvious.

I’ll just casually look at him, like a normal person would.

I glance in his direction to find him already staring at me.

Why is he staring at me? And why do I have to find him so damn attractive?

It’s not helping that he’s all looking seriously dapper, and his beard is gone.

I wonder if he shaved his beard off for his date with handsy Kat.

It’s not like I can even ask him. He made it clear that he doesn’t want people to know we know each other. That’s understandable. I am his therapist after all, and Leandro has a public persona to keep up even if it has been sketchy as of late.

I smile at him and try to think of something that a person who doesn’t know him would say. “How’s your dinner?”

Wow, that was awesome, India.

A grin edges his lips. “It’s okay. The steak is a bit overdone for my liking. I prefer it rare.” His eyes flash with the emphasis on the last word.

Okay. Deep breath. I take another sip of my wine.

“How’s yours?” His deep accented voice seems closer.

As I turn my head, I see that he’s leaning in my direction.

I glance down at my salmon, which I’ve hardly touched. “It’s good.”

When I meet his eyes again, he’s smiling at me.

My ear pricks up when I hear Dan ask Carrick, “So, how do you guys know India?”

I glance at Andi, gauging her response. She has loosened up so much since I first met her. She’s more open, but whether she’ll want Dan to know I was treating her is another story.

“India helped me deal with some issues I had with Carrick’s racing.”

Okay, she’s fine with it, which is good.

I smile at her.

“So, is she as good as they say?”

“Better,” Leandro says, surprising me.

The whole table turns to him.

His face doesn’t even flicker. “Andi raved about her, and the change in her was noticeable, even to me.”

I give Andi a warm smile.

“So, have you used your connections to take Jett to the Prix?” Dan says jovially. He knows what a Formula 1 nut Jett is.

“Who’s Jett?” That’s Leandro again.

“India’s son,” Dan answers casually.

He doesn’t know that Leandro is a patient.

I don’t discuss my private life with my patients.

I can feel my face heating.

“I didn’t realize you had a son,” Andi says.

“India’s fiercely protective of him,” Dan comments. “I haven’t even met him, and we’ve been dating for two months.”

I can hear the issue in his voice, and it makes me uncomfortable.

I know it bothers Dan that he hasn’t met Jett yet, but I don’t introduce men to my son, not unless I’m serious about them. And I haven’t been serious about anyone ever before. So, introducing someone to Jett would mean I really see a future with the guy, and I’m not sure if Dan is that person.

“How old is your son?” Andi asks with a lift to her voice. Probably to take away from the discomfort of Dan’s comment.

I try to curb my need to protect my life from people. “He’s twelve.”

“Twelve?” Leandro exclaims from beside me.

I know for a fact that my cheeks are bright red right now.

I really want to kick Dan in the shin, hard, for bringing Jett up.

“What I mean is, you don’t look old enough to have a twelve-year-old,” Leandro says, his voice sounding different.

I swallow past a breath. “I was young when I had him.” I force bright into my voice and my eyes to look at him.

What I see staring back makes my breath catch and sends shivers hurtling through my body, all the way down to my toes.

The way he’s looking at me is like he’s seeing me in a whole new light.

Not just as his therapist, but as a woman.

And it thrills me to my very core.

“I can’t believe you never told me that you know Carrick Ryan.”

We’re outside my front door, and Dan has his arms around me.

He’s driven me home from dinner. Andi was trying to talk us into drinks afterward, but in all honesty, I didn’t want to hang around and watch Kat feel up Leandro.

It was bugging me.

It shouldn’t have because I’m seeing Dan, and I’m Leandro’s therapist. But I don’t lie to myself, and being attracted to the guy is a problem.

One that I need to control.

Because I can’t stop treating him.

I should. Finding a patient attractive is never a good thing. But I’ve never found myself in this situation before.

What reason would I give to stop treating him?

Oh, I kind of find you insanely attractive, so I can’t treat you anymore.

I don’t think so.

I just need to pull up my big girl panties and repeatedly remind myself that he’s my patient.

And I’m also in Dan’s arms right now, arguing with myself over another man.

I’m scoring major points tonight.

Right, no more Leandro thoughts.

“Andi’s a patient, and I only know Carrick through her. And you’re not a big Formula One fan, so I didn’t think it’d matter if I told you or not.”

“It doesn’t.” He brushes my nose with his. “But the guy is a legend, as is Leandro Silva. Though I hear he’s not racing anymore after his accident.”

“Hmm…”

“So, dinner was nice.”

“It was.”

He brushes his lips over mine in that soft way of his.

It’s nice. Just, sometimes, I wish he’d go wild with me. Push me up against the door and ravage me.

Not kiss me like he thinks I’m going to break.

Feeling oddly frustrated, I deepen the kiss, slipping my tongue into his mouth. Pressing my body up against his, I moan into his mouth.

His fingers gently slide into my hair.

But I don’t want him to be gentle.

I push him up against the outside wall of my house. Splaying my hands on his chest, I kiss him harder. Nipping his lip with my teeth, I let my hand lower to his erection that’s digging into my hip. I start to rub him through the fabric.

Then, I lower the zipper of his trousers, but he catches my hand, stopping me.

“India.”

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