Free Sisters in Love (Snow Sisters, Book One: Love in Bloom Series #1) by Melissa Foster

would
egg me on, with women, you know? But then, in the same breath, he’d
hint that I shouldn’t be doing what I was doing.” Blake locked eyes
on Danica. “He’s the reason I’m here. He gave me your number before
he…before the accident.”
    “Well, he sounds like a good guy. I’m sorry
that you lost him. That must be very painful. Do you want to talk
about the accident?” Danica felt herself warming to him, like she
had to Keith Small, a previous client. An alcoholic who went to
every AA meeting with the hope of actually changing, even though he
still went home and drank. It had taken over a year of working with
him, but he’d eventually gone through rehab and was now living a
sober lifestyle. She saw the same hope in Blake’s eyes. She’s seen
that look many times before. While tragedy was a major catalyst,
few clients actually remained steadfast in their path to change
after the initial shock of losing someone wore off.
    Blake shook his head. “Not really.”
    She could barely take her eyes off of him. How could one man be so attractive? “Okay, Blake, what would
you like to share with me?” My bed? Jesus Christ, where did that
come from? This is not a good idea.
    “My other…habits.” He leaned back again,
crossing his arms. “This is weird, isn’t it? Talking about this
stuff after you’ve seen me with those women? I mean, if this is
awkward for you, we don’t have to talk about this.”
    “Blake, this is my job. I see you as a
client, and I’m happy to help you with these issues. But as I said
when you came in, if you are uncomfortable, please, by all means,
let me refer you to someone else.” Danica should have felt
relieved; instead she felt competitive. She was damn good at her
job, and she vowed to treat him like any other client. No more
dirty thoughts. Danica didn’t see him as a client yet, but she’d
push past her sinful stirrings and remain on the professional side
of that ominous, thin, gray line that every therapist had to
respect. She could be his therapist. She was the best therapist in
town, at least she liked to think so.
    Blake looked at her, nodding, considering. He
leaned forward, then back again. “You’re sure?”
    “Yes, I’m sure. Listen, I’ve helped—for lack
of a better word— players before. While that might be
something you want to work on, I feel like there’s more here than
just what you do in your spare time. You've lost your friend,
someone who obviously meant a lot to you. Maybe that’s where we
should start, when you’re ready.”
    “Maybe. But I’m not ready.”
    “Okay. Do you want to continue today’s
session? We have another fifteen minutes. Or we could end today’s
here and you can take some time to figure out if you wish to
continue with me.”
    Blake stood, and Danica fought the urge to
reel off her credentials: PhD in clinical psychology from Boston
University, undergrad degree from Tufts.
    He shook Danica’s hand with a firm grip.
Danica stood tall, her shoulders back, queen of her therapist
domain. “I’m glad you came in.” Then she added, just to solidify
the professional relationship, “I’ll drop your bill in the
mail.”
    Blake nodded. “Thank you,” he said, and
headed for the office door. He stopped before opening it and said,
“It was nice to see you again.” He smiled, and Danica felt her
professional posture slipping away. She cleared her throat to
settle her nerves.
    “Yes, you too. And I’m sorry about your
friend.” Danica watched him walk out the door, and when it was
firmly closed, she collapsed into her chair, letting out a long,
relieved sigh. Blake Carter . Her nerves tickled with
delight. He was right there, in her office. Is this what all the
fuss was about with Kaylie and Belinda? That heat that began in
your thighs and traveled up to your chest, feeling like it might
explode? Now she understood. She stood and paced, her arms crossed,
a smile painted across her cheeks. Her cell phone rang, reeling