Page 27 of The Dark Before Light

As the words come out, I grimace. Idiot. I could slap myself. But as I open my mouth to apologize, she shocks the hell out me by laughing. It sounds like fucking bells.

Eyes sparkling, she shrugs. “Win some, lose some.”

My burst of laughter is loud and startles us both. Stirling stares at me, lips parted, then seems to remember where she is and who’s waiting for her.

She starts to turn, then glances back. “Wednesday at seven?”

My nod is swift. “Sounds good.”

She clears her throat. “Okay. See you then.”

“Kieran,” I whisper.

She shakes her head, too amused to be irritated, and walks toward the car. I tuck my hands in my pockets and watch the sway of her hips. Because I’ve clearly lost all sense.

Behind me, Sven rumbles, “Open her door.”

I jerk into motion, overtaking Stirling before she reaches the car. As I pull open the passenger door, my hand falls to her lower back in a move so natural I don’t realize I’ve touched her until she jerks forward. My fingers tingle; I curl them against my palm.

“Thank you,” she says in a stilted voice, slipping into the seat.

Once she’s settled, I lean down to make eye contact with Toasty. “Gentlemen open doors for ladies.”

He pales.

“Drive safe, yeah?”

He nods, throat convulsing.

“Enough, Kieran,” murmurs Stirling.

My gaze snaps to hers, my giant grin triggering another roll of her eyes. I relinquish my hold on the door and she pulls it closed. They drive away.

I’m giving Sven a raise.

Chapter 9

Talia

Kieran slouches on the sofa in my office, making it appear child-sized. His arms are spread over the back, long legs splayed. The suit jacket and tie he came in wearing hang on a hook by the door. A white button-down is open at the collar and rolled up his forearms. He finally had his hair trimmed, and he shaved this morning.

He looks content, powerful, and smug.

“Does this mean you’ve forgiven me for last week?” he asks with an endearingly crooked grin.

His entire demeanor is different today, but the most drastic change is in his eyes. Vivid and lively, they virtually glow. From a professional standpoint, his attitude is a massive step in the right direction. No one wants a client who resents every session. But I’m also not naive enough to think my prowess as a therapist is the cause.

I shouldn’t have engaged with him Saturday night. Used his first name. Let his charm get under my skin. I gave him an inch and now he’s taking a mile—or thinks he is.

“The seating arrangement today had nothing to do with you, Mr. Hayes.”

His smile widens at my formality and the reminder that he’s not my only client. “You had time to change.”

I rearranged my damn schedule to make the time. No more skirts—no skirts ever again with this man. I’m wearing wide-leg trousers and flats. Full coverage blouse. Black, black, all black. My hair is in a severe bun, my lips bare except for Chapstick.

“You’re in a good mood today,” I remark with a smile—a slight one, my lips staying sealed. I haven’t missed his fixation with my teeth.

He shrugs. “I guess I am.”

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