Sherryl Woods - The Devaney Brothers - Michael and Patrick - Michael's Discovery

“Yeah, I could see that on Saturday,” she said dryly.

He laughed. “Okay, I can usually handle my mother.” His expression sobered. “Come on, Kelly, tell the truth. You don’t really have a date, do you?”

Continuing to lie was obviously pointless. Apparently she wasn’t all that good at it. “No,” she finally admitted with a sigh.

“Then come.”

“Why is my being there so important to you?”

Now it was his turn to look vaguely bewildered. “It just is,” he said finally. “I feel more...” He paused, searching for a word. “I feel more normal when you’re around.”

The explanation left her more confused than ever. “Normal how?”

He looked away as if he were almost embarrassed to make the admission. “You don’t get that expression in your eyes when you look at me that everyone else gets,” he said.

Kelly was beginning to get the picture. “No pity?”

“Exactly. And you don’t let me off the hook when I’m behaving badly. Everyone else does, as if I deserve a pass because I’m in this damned chair. That’s the last thing I need. I need to be held accountable for my actions. I need you right now.”

Kelly swallowed hard against the tide of emotion rising in her throat. Michael’s admission that he needed her—that he needed anyone—took her breath away. It was a huge breakthrough for a man who’d probably gone through his whole life trying to convince himself that he didn’t need anyone. How could she possibly turn him down after that?

“What time?” she asked, resigned.

As he realized what she was saying, a smile spread slowly across his face. “Pick me up at seven?”

Kelly almost agreed, then recalled that he’d told his family to meet at the pub at six-thirty. “Isn’t that a little late?”

He gave her a rueful look at having been caught. “I was hoping they’d get all the introductions out of the way before I got there.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so. I’ll pick you up at six-fifteen, and no dillydallying. Be outside and ready to go. I’ll remind you of that when I’m here on Thursday.”

Michael laughed, clearly in a much better frame of mind now that she’d caved in to his request. “Yes, ma’am.”

Impulsively she went back and touched his cheek. The faint stubble was rough against her palm. His heat and masculinity drew her as no other man’s ever had. It was getting harder and harder to go on with the charade that she was immune to him. “It’s going to be okay, you know.”

He placed his hand over hers and held it in place. “With you there, something tells me it will be.”

* * *

Michael still wasn’t used to Kelly having her hands all over him. It didn’t seem to faze her, so he knew he shouldn’t let it bother him, but it did. In fact, it was driving him crazy. As if worrying about Friday night weren’t bad enough, today he couldn’t seem to keep his thoughts from straying to what it would be like if Kelly’s touches were a little—okay, a lot—less impersonal.

“How do you do it?” he asked finally when it felt as if he might explode if she stroked her hands over his thigh one more time. He’d spent the past few weeks trying to hide the fact that he was in a perpetual state of arousal when she was around and it was beginning to get to him.

“Do what?” she asked, sounding oddly distant.

“The massage thing.”

“I took classes.”

He glanced back over his shoulder and frowned. “Not what I meant, and you know it.”

She met his gaze, then looked hastily away, her cheeks suddenly rosy.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” he persisted.

“It’s my job,” she said, her tone as prim as someone’s elderly maiden aunt. “You’re a client.”

“I’m also a man,” he reminded her. Some wicked instinct had him rolling over to prove the point. He was thoroughly aroused...and that was despite a concerted attempt to remain completely disconnected from the massage.

Kelly’s attention was immediately drawn to the evidence. She swallowed hard, then deliberately looked away. Michael tried to gauge her reaction. It had almost seemed as if she was more fascinated—maybe even secretly pleased—than embarrassed. Maybe she wasn’t as immune as he’d thought.

“Look, I...” Her words dwindled off.

He reached out and clasped her hand in his. “I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I really don’t. Actually, I was curious about how you remain detached from what you’re doing.”

She met his gaze. “The truth?”

“Of course.”

“The issue has never really come up before.”

“Before?” he repeated, a certain measure of gloating creeping into his voice. “Meaning it has with me? You aren’t unaffected by touching me?”

She pulled away. “Don’t sound so blasted pleased with yourself. We really shouldn’t be having this conversation. It’s inappropriate and totally unprofessional on my part. Besides, we had an agreement.”

She was so clearly dismayed that he instantly backed off. Besides, he had the answer he wanted. The attraction wasn’t as one-sided as he’d imagined. Satisfied with that knowledge, he rolled back on his stomach and rested his head on his arms. “I’ll drop it, then,” he murmured.

“Thank you.”

“But don’t be surprised if it comes up again tomorrow night when you’re not on the clock.”

Her hands on his leg stilled. “Michael!” she protested weakly.

“Kelly!” he responded, teasing.

She sighed heavily. “What am I going to do about you?”

“An intriguing question,” he told her. “Let’s put that on the agenda for tomorrow night, too.”

“You realize if these topics come up tomorrow night, we might never actually make it to the pub?”

He hid his grin. “Definitely an added bonus,” he conceded.

She smacked his uninjured leg. “Forget it, Devaney. I’m not providing you with an excuse to get out of introducing your families to each other.”

“Oh, well, it was worth a try,” he said with an air of resignation.

And getting Kelly to admit that she was not oblivious to the effects of these massages had definitely been a side benefit. Of course, it was also likely to fuel his own fantasies so that he wouldn’t get a minute’s rest between tonight and tomorrow. He figured the sacrifice of a little sleep was worth it.

* * *

Kelly was a nervous wreck on Friday night. She told herself she was worried for Michael’s sake, that she merely wanted everything to go well, but it was more than that. The entire conversation they’d had about the impact of her massages on him had been disconcerting at best. His assurance that he intended to get into the subject again tonight the instant they were alone had her feeling edgy with anticipation of an entirely different sort.

She had been stunned when he’d revealed that he was thoroughly aroused. Stunned and, she was willing to admit, thrilled that she could have that kind of impact on a man she’d been convinced didn’t think of her as a woman at all. There was little question now that Michael saw her as a desirable grown-up, not a kid. But what would he do about it? Would he do the noble thing and ignore it because of his friendship with her brother and her role as his therapist? She hoped not. She’d been waiting far too long for him to notice her.

Of course, that wistful thought lasted only the length of time it took to say “lost license.” She could just imagine what Moira would have to say if Kelly revealed that there was anything the least bit provocative about her contact with a client.

She should get a grip, she told herself sternly, and tell Michael he had to do the same. Or she should quit. One or the other. She certainly couldn’t let things continue as they had been, not if she valued her professional reputation.