leather chaise in the center of the room, and unbelievably he felt a strange sensation, like he was finally home. “Just like old times,” he said, strolling into the office.
Dr. Julianne Turner’s thick, luscious coral-tinted lips spread into a breathtaking smile as she closed the door behind him.
Being a connoisseur of women, as he’d proudly proclaimed, Quentin immediately noticed that the good doctor’s perfume had changed. It was no longer soft and floral, but more fruity and woodsy. That wasn’t all he noticed in his short jaunt across the room to the chaise. Her clothes were different. Gone were the knee-length skirts that let her legs play peek-a-boo when she sat down. Now they were proudly showcased in a black number that hit her thigh a good five inches above her knees. Not only that, the tailored cut of the shorter dress led his eyes to her rounded hips and ass.
“What’s going on?” he suddenly asked.
“Sorry?” She leaned back so that she could look up to his tall frame.
That’s when he noticed the extra burst of color in her redbone complexion and that unmistakable twinkle in her eyes that let him know what time it was. “What’s his name?”
“What’s whose name?” She blinked, but the smile never left her face.
Quentin flashed his secret weapon—his dimples. “The name of the brother that put that huge, Kool-Aid grin on your face,” he said. When she opened her mouth to respond, Q held up a finger to cut her off. “And please, don’t insult my intelligence and tell me there isn’t a guy. You have that glow that women have when they’re with child or after a night of unbridled—”
“Quentin!” Alyssa snapped.
Dr. Turner finally blanched. “Mr. Hinton!”
“Quentin,” he corrected as his smile wrapped around his face like a rubber band.
“It’s been a while since you’ve been to my office, so maybe I need to remind you that these visits are for your benefit. I’m not the topic of conversation here. I would appreciate it if you would keep your sly comments and wolfish gaze to yourself. Do I make myself clear?”
“Wolfish?”
“I guess she told you.” Alyssa laughed.
“Now would you like to have a seat?” She gestured to the chaise and when she did so, Quentin caught the flash of a three-carat diamond ring.
He quickly grabbed her hand and pulled it toward him for closer inspection. “Silly me, how did I forget the third reason?” His gaze returned to her face as hurt and betrayal dueled for top billing.
Dr. Turner pulled her hand out of his grasp. “Now that you’ve satisfied your curiosity, can we get down to the reason you’re here?”
“Sure. But I’m still waiting for the name of this lucky bastard, and where I can find him so that I can wring his neck.”
“Mr. Hinton—”
“It’s still Quentin.”
“Is this going to be problem?”
“What, you bailing on me too, so that you can participate in this ridiculous institution?”
“Who said anything about my bailing on you? You’re the one who stopped coming to your therapy sessions. I could look at that as you bailing on me.”
“All right. I’m back. Now you can give this clown back his ring.”
“Reginald is not a clown.”
“Reginald?” He laughed. “You’re marrying someone named Reginald?”
Her brows arched above her eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with the name Reginald. He’s a very respectable and distinguished doctor in his field.”
“Oh, respectable and distinguished.” Quentin rolled his eyes. “That’s another way of saying comfortable and reliable.” He moved toward her and crowded her space. “Tell me, how is old Reggie in the sack?”
Dr. Turner gasped and stepped back. “Careful, Mr. Hinton! You’re in dangerous territory.”
He smirked and erased the space she’d put between them. “Does that mean I’ll get a spanking if I don’t behave?”
“No, it means I’ll have to terminate this and any future sessions. And I won’t hesitate to do so.”
After his therapist’s declaration, Quentin stood his ground, engaging in a staring contest to see whether she was serious or not.
She was.
He exhaled a long breath and then slowly gave her a lazy smile. “Well, I had to give it the old college try. Congratulations are in order.”
Dr. Turner drew in a deep sigh of relief as if she’d narrowly escaped a predator. “Thank you. Now would you like to take a seat?”
Q weighed the question in his head as his gaze bounced from the chaise to the door—and then to a frowning Alyssa. “Well, since I’m here.” He walked toward the chaise and then stretched out.
Dr. Turner took her usual chair and picked up her ever-ready notepad. “So what would you like to discuss today?”
“You mean, other than my abandonment issues? My war against love? Or these crazy dreams I keep having?”
“Dreams? What sort of dreams?”
“What else—wedding dreams.”
“You’ve been dreaming about weddings?”
“Hell, that shouldn’t be much of a surprise, considering how everyone keeps dropping to their knees and popping the big question. I swear, love has become a global epidemic that, quite frankly, some scientists need to hurry up and make a pill to eradicate.”
“That’s a bit extreme, isn’t it?”
“Humph. Not from where I’m standing. My once-devout bachelors-for-life are dropping like flies at the slightest whiff of a woman’s perfume. All my dogs have traded in their Milk-Bones for collars and short leashes. And, get this, they’re happy to stay and play in their own backyard. What kind of madness is this?”
“All right. So, no love. No marriage. It’s just you and your cousin Jeremy living the bachelor lifestyle from here till eternity?”
“Ha!” Quentin rolled his eyes.
“Problem?”
“Yeah. My family is nothing but a bunch of Judases.”
“Oh. So you lost the last member of your boys’ club?” Quentin grumbled.
Dr. Turner laughed.
“Maybe I need to just change doctors,” Quentin mumbled under his breath.
“No. No. Please. I have to hear this story.”
Quentin
