This was how it always went with Liam, though. If we were walking down the hall in school, people called out to him, gave him fist bumps, and stared. But no one saw me, the girl hugging a book against her chest.
They never saw me.
My head began to clear, and suddenly, reality came crashing down when I realized what I’d done. I’d kissed my client. Crap!
I needed to think. Okay, it wasn’t that bad. He’d initiated the kiss—er, Ms. Heart had initiated it? Whatever. It wasn’t like I’d thrown myself at him. Really, my reaction to our kiss was textbook. I had a shot at kissing someone I used to daydream about. I’d played that moment a hundred times in my head over the years, and living it was a self-fulfilling prophecy. It was a bandage that I’d needed to rip off, and I finally had.
Now that I’d experienced Liam’s kiss, there was no need to dwell on it anymore. I was now firmly and completely aware of what I was missing.
I just needed to put on the mental and hormonal brakes. Even though I was a therapist, I was still a woman and he was a man. A man who kissed like a god—which I needed to stop thinking about. The kiss was a classroom assignment—that we’d aced.
I turned on my therapist brain, needing analytics to save me from drowning in Liam. This moment was an opportunity to observe Liam in his professional capacity as a public figure. How he behaved here would be an indication of what kind of steady boyfriend he could be. No woman wanted to date a man who flirted with everybody.
Not that I was interested in that information for myself. It was for his future girlfriend … not me. I started mentally listing my observations.
One, Liam was still self-conscious about his dyslexia. He’d reverted to clowning around to detract attention from that fact, especially when he was in an academic environment.
Two, the class clown thing was a shield he wore to protect himself from what others thought of him. The football star quarterback in the NFL was afraid of what these women would think of him. Perhaps that was why he kept dating women he didn’t care about. If he cared, he had to let them in.
Three, he had no idea he was doing it. He’d spent enough of his life wearing this protective shell that putting it on wasn’t a conscious decision anymore.
Four, I didn’t like the fake version of Liam. Not one bit. The real version? The real Liam got to me like no man ever had. But this fake Liam was annoying.
In fact, everything was annoying right now.
Liam’s laughter.
The extremely bright lights.
The ugly carpet.
I gripped my hands into fists in an effort to rein in my emotions. Being mad was not going to help Liam or me.
So why did I want to scream at the lady wrapping her arms around his neck for a picture? Why did I want to shout at her to take her hands off the football player and walk away?
Liam wasn’t good for me. He broke my heart, whether he realized it or not. I always walked away sad and broken.
Changing Liam was going to be a task, but in the end, I was determined to finish this week with my heart intact. And the first step into making sure that happened was for me to keep my emotions under control and sanity leading my actions. Getting jealous wasn’t going to help anyone.
So I needed to focus on the goal. Heal Liam and get out of his life. If I could do that, it would be the greatest feat I’d ever accomplished. I need to keep my head straight and my lips to myself. If I stuck to those two rules, I’d be fine.
I would survive.
Chapter Eight
Liam
I couldn’t get my mind off that kiss. It had rocked my world. I mean, I’d heard that phrase before and I’d seen guys do stupid things after kissing a woman, but I’d never dreamed anything like that would ever happen to me. And I’d never dreamed that the woman who would give me that experience would be Heather.
The crazy thing was, we’d had this whole conversation beforehand without saying a word. A total mind meld. And when I’d kissed her? I hadn’t existed anymore. The building hadn’t existed anymore. We’d been outside of time and space and oxygen.
Coming back to earth had been jarring, and I’d stumbled into a minefield of crazy fans.
Okay, not crazy in the sense that these ladies were going to slather themselves in body paint and tailgate outside the stadium next season. But crazy in that they were handsy. Guys gave bro hugs. I could handle that, though I preferred they didn’t. But these women were all about running their hands up my arms and across my shoulders.
“Oh man, I’d love to do research with you,” said the woman at my left who smelled like cat food. She licked her teeth and blinked both her eyes. Then she tried to shove her hand in my back pocket.
I jumped away and reached for another lady’s camera. “Selfie?” I asked as I pulled her between me and the cat woman.
“Sure.” She leaned back into my chest, and I bent down to be in the frame.
Normally, I’d lap up this attention, and I appreciated it coming to me after that kiss. I needed a moment to gather my bearings before I faced the woman who’d jolted my entire existence. But now that I was awake, all I could think about was being with Heather. I searched for her in the crowd and didn’t find her. Maybe she went back to check on Winnie. “Okay, ladies. It’s time for me to go.”
Hands pulled at my shirt to keep me in place as I pushed out of the room, and there was a general groan of disappointment.
Just as I was about to slip into the hallway, I spotted a flash of red, curly hair. Stopping, I reached out my hand for Heather. The crowd around me parted to make room for her to come to me. She looked at my hand and then tucked hers under her arms as she joined me.
What was that about? Did she not feel what I felt?
The. Earth. Had. Stopped. Moving.
The more I studied Heather, the more I began to realize that Heather silence was bad silence. I’d once told her that the Harry Potter series was for children, and she didn’t speak to me for three days. Plus, she looked mad. Maybe I wasn’t the most observant guy, but even I could tell that she was simmering beneath her impossibly smooth features.
We walked in silence as we stepped into the hallway, where a woman with a floral top and dangling bead earrings stepped up to us. “Goodness,” she exclaimed when she stopped in front of me. “You’re every bit as gorgeous as they say.”
Heather stiffened.
I chuckled. People said some crazy things. I’d learned to roll with it. “Thanks.”
The woman didn’t seem fazed by either of our reactions. “Listen. We’re doing a charity photo shoot in ten minutes with our cover models. Is there any way I could get you to, um … pose with them?” She touched my shoulder and then yanked her hand back as if she couldn’t believe she had touched me.
I glanced at Heather. Her head was cocked to the side, like she was curious.
“What’s the charity?” I asked.
“It’s to raise funds for classroom reading programs.” She pushed her glasses up her nose.
Dang it all if she didn’t hit my soft spot with that one. I donated heavily to local reading initiatives. The more money I gave, the easier it was to turn down actually talking in front of kids about the importance of reading. I wasn’t a poster child for literacy, but if I could help another child do better, then I would. “Do we have time?” I asked Heather.
She huffed. “Like I’m going to be the bad guy who says no.”
That wasn’t exactly a ringing endorsement. As much as I wanted to figure out what had happened back there, I couldn’t turn away the opportunity to help some kids. “Let’s do this.”
“Wonderful.”
Heather mumbled something as she followed us to another room that was set up with a backdrop of a Scottish castle. There were two guys in kilts and matching tartans, complete with leather belts and hair that would blow in the wind. I glanced around for a wind machine but didn’t see one.
The guys looked me over, sizing me up and realizing I was twice
their size. They went for the I’m-a-huge-fan routine, segueing into what-can-you-lift?
The photographer walked in during our gym talk, a camera around her neck and a frazzled look in her eye. “They just told me.” She flipped on Heather. “Are you his agent? Because a little notice would go a long way. I don’t have a football backdrop.”
I kicked on the charm. “I’m sure you have an idea we could make work, though.” I touched her arm lightly, just enough that she understood she had my undivided attention. “Come on, you’re thinking something, aren’t you?”
Her gruff demeanor melted, and she bit her lip. “Well, I do have an extra costume.” She shoved a blue kilt my way and bit her lip again.
I cocked a grin, ready to win her over so she’d stop yelling at everyone. “Sweetheart, if you wanted to undress me, all you had to do was say so.”
She giggled. “Just put the kilt over your pants and tuck them up. You’ll, uh—” She glanced down at my chest. “—have to take your shirt off, though.”
“No problem.” I was videoed without my shirt during postgame interviews all the time. It really wasn’t a big deal. She went to find a couple props, so I dipped down to catch Heather’s gaze. “You wanna help me unbutton?” I untucked my shirt and gave her a flirtatious wink. The tension between us was too much. I needed to let some air out of this balloon before I exploded.
She glared at me, but it was her blush that caught me off guard. And I silently celebrated inside when I realized that I’d been the one to cause that reaction in her. “I’m on the clock—and that’s not part of my job description.”
Needing to make her smile, I leaned in. “But kissing is?”
She pressed her lips together and shook her head. “Apparently, that is a new occupational hazard. I’m not a fangirl, Liam. Don’t treat me like one.” She stepped back. “I’m going to check on Winnie. We can leave whenever you want to.”
I stared after her retreating back until she disappeared from sight.
I was so confused, and it wasn’t only the kiss that left me scrambling for solid ground. It was everything leading up to the kiss. The touches. The hand holding. The supportive smiles. All of it got my heart pounding and me smiling.
But then, suddenly, she’d pulled back on all of that and we’d returned to distant Heather. Reserved Heather. It was almost as if she blamed me for whatever her issue was. Which couldn’t be the truth. After all, I’d only just come back into her life. If she was going through something, there was no way she could blame me. Right?
I gave a resolute nod to no one in particular. I was right, and the more I thought about it, the angrier I became. She wasn’t a fangirl—she was my employee. And we would leave when I was good and ready to go.
Which might be after this photo shoot. And it might be in five hours.
I’d take control of this situation—because somehow I’d completely lost it—and we’d get back on track. I needed to find a date for the team party, and I intended to do just that—even if it meant meeting every woman at this book convention.
Chapter Nine
Heather
Monday
“Dang it!” I yelled as I slammed my forefinger down on the delete button and erased the paragraph that I’d been working on for the last hour.
It was late afternoon on Monday, and I stared at my office wall as if it would help me craft case notes about what had happened this weekend with Liam, but I struggled to find the words to express how I felt about him. About the convention. And about our kiss. Plus, how did one explain what it was like to kiss their client without making it sound like one of Winnie’s romance novels?
I couldn’t. That was the answer.
Especially when the kiss had been so good. I kept coming up with comparisons, such as sweet as chocolate, delicious as ice cream, and better than the smell of coconut lotion on the beach. None of which were professional in the least.
I sighed loudly as I finished deleting the last word. I was back to staring at a blank Word document.
There was a soft knock on my office door, and before I could call out a “come in,” Myrtle came in. She held a mug and smiled at me through her thick glasses. We’d been together since I’d opened my own practice, and she’d rapidly become one of my closest friends.
“Everything okay?” she asked as she moved to stand behind my desk. She set down the coffee and then moved to sit on one of my office chairs. She tightened her grip on her knitted shawl and waited.
I blew on the curly strand of hair that tickled my lip before I finally gave up and tucked it behind my ear. “No,” I said, making no attempt to hide my grumpy attitude.
Myrtle chuckled. “Rough weekend?”
I scoffed, took a sip of my coffee, and then shot her a pained look. “Awful. Remind me to never work on a Friday night again.”
She furrowed her brow. “Did you fall asleep at your desk again?”
“No.”
She cocked her head as if she didn’t believe me.
“Well, yes. But that wasn’t the problem. The issue was, since I was here working late, I was here when Liam showed up.” I gave her a can you believe that look, to which she furrowed her brow.
“Liam? I don’t remember a client named Liam.” She tapped her chin. “Is he the guy that stood you up at prom?”
I groaned and leaned forward on my desk, burrowing my face into my elbow. Why did I tell everybody that story? It wasn’t flattering. Being stood up was horrible. Yet I’d spilled my guts about it to Myrtle. Probably because I didn’t think she and Liam would ever meet. Why would they? The two of them were from different eras of my life, and the two weren’t supposed to cross. Yet Liam had barged into my office like he owned the place, so here we were. “It was awful.”
Suddenly, I felt Myrtle’s hand on my back and she began to rhythmically pat it. “I’m sure it wasn’t as horrible as you think.”
I straightened and pouted. “It was worse.”
She chuckled as she leaned against my desk. “Why don’t you tell me what happened this weekend?”
I sighed and let it all spill out. I relayed my and Liam’s late-night meeting where he’d hired me for the week. Then I’d gone to the party. When it came to the convention, I hesitated to tell her everything, but then I felt stupid. If I didn’t care about the kiss, then it wasn’t going to matter if I talked about it.
When I ended with our awkward ride home and even more strained goodbye, Myrtle moved to settle back in her seat before she spoke. “Well, that was eventful.”
I faked a few whimpers as I nodded. “I’m insane. Literally and figuratively. After all, what kind of girl would allow the boy who broke her heart to come waltzing back into her life?” I raised my hand and pointed at myself. “Me. Apparently, me.”
Myrtle shook her head. “I don’t think you’re insane.” Then she sighed. “That’s how a human reacts when an old crush resurfaces. I would say that makes you normal.”
I offered her a weak smile. “Thanks. I appreciate your lies.”
“Anytime—and it’s not a lie,” she said as she reached forward and pulled out a few caramels from the glass bowl on my desk. “So what are you going to do for the rest of the days that he hired you for?”
That chunk of hair was back, so I pulled out my ponytail and finger-combed it back in place. I sighed. “I don’t know. I definitely need to bring him somewhere where kissing is not allowed.” I winced. “Does such a place exist?”
Myrtle was quiet. “There’s no kissing at my knitting group.”
I snorted as I thought of Liam sitting around with a group of Myrtle clones. Wait, that might be just what needed to happen. Women talked as they knitted. They shared and they discussed everything from current events to their pets. Liam sitting around a group of knitting women … it was perfect.
“Yes!” I exclaimed, causing Myrtle to jump.
“What?”
I waggled my finger in Myrtle’s direction. “You’re a genius.”
&nb
sp; “I am?”
“Yes. A knitting group is perfect. No reason to take off his shirt. No fans. And no kissing. Plus, I’m pretty sure Liam doesn’t have knitting friends, so this will expand his horizons and get him into a place where football isn’t important.”
“Hey. We know football.”
I gave her a look, to which she finally gave me a resigned nod.
“You’re probably right. We aren’t known for our football repertoire.”
“Which is great, because I want him to see that there’s a world outside of the sport. Not only so he can find a woman who is well-rounded, but so that he can have a life after he retires.” I tapped my chin. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard him talk about a hobby—even another sport. His dad and brother are big into golf, but he doesn’t go with them.”
I clapped my hands together and then rubbed them like I was doing something sinister. “I’ll be able to do my job all while keeping him at a distance. The best part is, no one will recognize him.” And performance Liam wouldn’t have a chance to appear. He’d have to be himself, to rely on the guy off the field. Which was a great guy—I wished he could see that.
Myrtle sucked in her breath.
I turned to face her. “What?”
“Cassie’s son is a huge Wolves fan. I think she might recognize him.” She gave me an apologetic look. “So it might not be the success you’re looking for.”
I tapped my chin as I mulled that thought over. Remembering how good it had felt to wear Lottie’s dress and hair cream, I brightened. “We’ll give him a regular-guy makeover.”
Myrtle snorted. “Aren’t makeovers supposed to make you better-looking?”
I waved away her comment. “It’ll be a reverse makeover. We’ll make him look ordinary.” My excitement began to grow as I grabbed my phone and texted Liam. “It’s really the best way,” I said as I shot off a text, telling Liam to meet at my office in an hour. Then I slipped my phone into my purse and pulled it up onto my shoulder.
His Romance Coach (A McKnight Family Romance Book 5) Page 7
