gave her his most charming smile. ‘Why wouldn’t I?’
‘Because you’re the type to push yourself too hard,’ she said softly. ‘What did you do, George?’
She could read him like a book. He wasn’t sure if that intrigued him more or worried him. Most people were happy just to see the surface; Serena clearly looked deeper and he had a feeling that she saw what most people missed about him. Which in itself was dangerous. Apart from his family, he didn’t let people get that close.
‘I tried driving at the weekend. On private land, so there wasn’t a risk to anyone else.’ Odd how it felt important to tell her that. Normally, he didn’t give a damn what people thought about him. But what Serena thought … For some reason, that mattered. And he’d rather not start analysing why.
She raised an eyebrow. ‘Did it hurt?’
‘No. I realise I’m not quite ready to drive in London again, yet,’ he admitted, ‘but now I’ve got a benchmark to work with. And it really helps, knowing that I’m not going to be dependent on the girls and Ed—my brother—for what already feels like for ever.’
She examined him, then made him go through the full range of movements just to the point of pain. ‘That’s good. Your range has improved hugely over the last few weeks.’
‘Thanks to you.’
‘And you, for sticking with the exercises. A lot of people struggle and some of them just give up.’
‘Not me. I want my independence back, and if that means sticking to an exercise programme, then the exercises take priority over everything else every day,’ George said.
She smiled. ‘Actually, you’ve done well. I think you’re ready for the last stage.’ She gave him more exercises; even as George concentrated on her instructions and making sure he was doing everything correctly, to get the maximum benefit from the movements, he couldn’t help looking at her.
And he caught her looking back at him. Specifically, at his mouth.
All his senses immediately went on full alert. Was she thinking about it, the same way he was? What would she do if he kissed her?
He had a feeling that she’d retreat into formality again. She’d panicked enough at his last appointment, when he’d suggested she kiss him; he was pretty sure that actually doing what he’d suggested would send her running in the opposite direction.
But next week was his last appointment. He didn’t have time to wait and coax her round to his point of view. He was going to have to make his move then, or lose the chance of seeing her again—for good.
On Monday morning, Serena put George through his paces again.
And then it was over. He was signed off. No more physio.
No more seeing her, unless he asked her out now. He’d thought about it all weekend. On paper, it was ridiculous. She wasn’t his type and he was pretty sure he wasn’t hers. Yet she intrigued him too much for him to let it go. ‘That was my last appointment,’ he said.
‘I know. You’ve done very well.’
‘I brought you these, to say thanks for all the work you’ve done on my wrists and my leg. And for being patient with me. I know I haven’t exactly been the easiest of clients.’ He produced a flattish square box, slightly bigger than a CD case; it was wrapped in thick burgundy-coloured paper and tied with a gold gauzy ribbon.
She shook her head. ‘I’m sorry. I can’t accept gifts.’
‘Rules and regulations?’ he asked.
‘They’re there to protect patients.’
‘And staff, I guess.’ To make sure that nobody could claim that a therapist had taken advantage of a vulnerable patient and extorted expensive presents from them. He could understand that. ‘Pity. It isn’t a diamond tiara or anything like that,’ he said, just to reassure her. ‘It’s just something small.’ The kind of thing he’d take to the hostess of a dinner party.
She looked embarrassed. ‘It’s very kind of you to think of me, Mr Somers, but I’m afraid I really can’t accept anything.’
He put the box on her desk. ‘Serena. Look at me,’ he said softly.
Looking at him was a mistake. Those blue, blue eyes. That beautifully shaped mouth. Serena could barely tear her gaze away from it.
‘Serena,’ he whispered.
And she knew in that second that he was going to kiss her.
In the name of common sense, she should back away. Or at least turn her head aside so he ended up kissing her cheek and not her mouth.
But she couldn’t move. It was as if some invisible force was holding her in place. Making her wait for the moment when he finally kissed her.
George’s lips brushed against hers ever so gently; to her surprise, his kiss wasn’t demanding and forceful, but sweet and light and coaxing. Tempting.
Back away and tell him you don’t do this.
But her common sense was drowned out by the way her lips were tingling. She wanted more. Lots more. Right now.
As if he could read her mind, he touched his mouth to hers again. And again, his mouth nipped gently at her lower lip, inviting and inciting. The next thing she knew, her fingers were sliding into his hair, his arms were wrapped tightly round her, and her mouth was opening under his. Inviting the kind of kiss she hadn’t shared with anyone since Ethan’s father.
And even that had been a pale, pale imitation of the way George was kissing her. The way his mouth promised as much as it demanded, giving as well as taking. Her blood felt as if it were fizzing through her veins. And her temperature was most definitely spiking.
He broke the kiss and stroked her face. ‘Serena. I knew it would be like that between us,’ he said softly.
Hot. Intense. Perfect.
‘I’ve wanted to do that for weeks.’
She’d wanted it, too. But it couldn’t happen. She dragged in a breath and took a step away from him; not that it made much difference. They could’ve been standing at opposite ends of Wembley Stadium with thousands of people jammed between them, and she’d still be spine-tinglingly aware of his presence. ‘We shouldn’t have done that, Mr Somers,’ she said shakily. ‘You’re my patient.’
‘Actually, I’m not,’ he pointed out. ‘That was my last session. My treatment’s over. So we’re not patient and therapist any more. We’re just you and me. Two ordinary people. There’s no reason why we can’t do whatever we want.’ He stole another of those sweet, mind-drugging kisses. ‘I’d like to see you outside work, Serena. Will you go out with me?’
She shook her head. ‘I can’t.’
‘You’re involved with someone else?’
This was her cue to tell a little white lie. She knew instinctively that George Somers was an honourable man. He wouldn’t
