Free The Tease (The Darling Killer Trilogy) by Nikki M. Pill Page B

different kind of talent. I love doing therapy, I love the work. But I also think it’s immoral to deprive women of the kind of joy and empowerment they could feel if they just let themselves. So I hope to do some research, write some papers, change as many minds as possible.”
    I stopped myself and took another sip of the drink. He smiled, staring intently at me with his dark eyes. I focused again on the texture of the tablecloth, because I had a wild impulse to run the backs of my fingers over the planes of his face. He looked like someone had drawn his features with the sweeping elegance of a cathedral ceiling. “You’re more than meets the eye,” he said.
    I blushed.
He’s flirting with me. He’s actually flirting with me.
    We finished our appetizers, and then our drinks, and then switched to coffee. Before I knew it, it was eleven p.m. I realized that my blinks were getting microseconds longer, and I was seeing Lisa behind my eyelids again.
    “I should get going,” I said, with unfeigned regret. “Normally I’m not such an old lady, but I didn’t sleep much.”
    “Of course,” he said. “I’ll get your coat.”
    As he walked me to the door, he asked if I drove. “I took the train,” I said.
    “May I drive you home?”
    I hesitated. I didn’t want to say anything more embarrassing, and worse, I didn’t want to fall asleep in his car.
    “I’m not trying to be pushy,” he said. “But I’d like to know you get home safely, because I’d like to see you again.”
    Wow. When’s the last time a guy was actually gallant with me?
“That would be great,” I said.
    I sketched out the direction for him, and he drove me home. He was good at keeping an easy, natural stream of conversation going, which I kept up almost absently. I was worried about the kiss.
    No matter how impassioned I was about women taking charge of their own sexuality, the first date always confounded me. He said he wanted to see me again, but did he mean he was really interested? Did he want a kiss? Did I want to start anything with Lisa’s ghost in my head? I resolved to give him a gentle peck on the cheek. I kind of looked forward to it.
    “This is my place,” I said. He pulled up to the curb and put the car in park, but left the motor running.
    “I’ll stay here and make sure you get in the door,” he said.
    “Thank you.” I leaned in and kissed his cheek. “I had a great time.”
    “I did too,” he said. He took my hand and kissed it. His lips were soft, not wet and slick, warm. When he looked up from my hand and met my eyes, lips still pressed to my knuckles, a jolt of electricity shot straight from my hand to my chest.
    “I’ll um—” I couldn’t call him because he had only emailed me. “I’ll email you my phone number.”
    “I’ll use it,” he said.
    I nodded, grinning like a fool, and got out of the car. True to his promise, he waited by the curb until I was safely inside. I wished I could see his facial expression as I walked in. People give so much away when they think you can’t see them.

CHAPTER SEVEN
    L ynne arrived a few minutes before noon and threw her skinny arms around me in a tight hug. The sickly-sweet smell of synthetic perfume designed for teenagers filled my nose. I held my breath and patted her back.
    As much as I loved StudiOh La La, it made more sense for Lynne to take the private lessons at my home studio. La La was all the way in the West Loop, which would cost both of us half an hour in decent traffic, and also would cost an extra twenty dollars an hour to rent. It had better floors and mirrors, as well as more space, but I figured we could cross that bridge if Lynne truly fell in love with the art.
    She stepped away, and I got a good look at her lime green leotard, black wrap skirt, black fishnet stockings, stiletto heels, and kelly green legwarmers. Her greying hair was pulled into a ponytail at the nape of her neck, and her thin lips were liberally coated with a shade of dark red