“He controls you?”
“Like one of those radio-operated airplanes,” she said dryly. “Do you suppose we could talk about something else now?”
“Of course.” He reached over to brush a strand of hair from her cheek. “How’s your ankle?”
His touch caused a tiny shiver to course through her. Her voice was just a bit hoarse when she said, “It’s better, thanks.”
“It’s swollen again. You’ve been standing on it too long today. I’m sure it hurts like hell, but you’re not a complainer, are you?”
“I try not to be.” Whining and complaining had never been tolerated by her father; she’d learned early to keep her troubles to herself.
His mouth twisted wryly. “When I hurt, everyone knows about it. I’ve been told I’m a rather…difficult patient.”
That made her laugh. “I’d just bet you are.”
His gaze lingered on her mouth, and her smile wavered. Was he suddenly leaning closer? She cleared her throat. “Maybe I should…”
What? She couldn’t think of one reasonable excuse to retreat, except, of course, cowardice.
He was definitely moving closer, and there was a gleam in his eyes now that made her pulse speed up. “Um, Gideon…”
“You know all those times we talked on the phone during the past couple of years?”
“Yes?”
His fingers slid down the curve of her jaw. “I didn’t picture you looking quite like this.”
“What—” She started again. “What did you think I looked like?”
“Different.” His fingertips traced her cheek, and then the pad of his thumb moved lightly across her lower lip. It was as if he were a blind man learning her face by feel alone, and the sensation was decidedly erotic. It wasn’t hard to imagine him exploring the rest of her body the same way.
It wasn’t hard to picture herself learning his body the same way. And that image was so tempting that she knew she had to move now, before she did something really foolish and unprofessional—like make a pass at her client.
“I think I’ll read for a while before I turn in,” she said, scooting away from him. “I have a couple of manuscripts to look over, one that looks pretty good, another that has so many flaws I’m not sure it’s fixable. But I thought I would look at it one more time, just to make sure I’m being fair before returning it to the author. I can’t wait to read your new book when you finish it, by the way. I’m really looking forward to it.”
He studied her face for a moment, his gaze so intense that she wondered if he saw too much there, but then he asked, “How would you like to read it now?”
“It’s finished?”
“No. But I’ve printed out what I’ve written to this point. Sometimes I edit more efficiently on paper than on screen.”
“I thought you had a policy of not letting anyone read your work before it’s finished. You don’t even like to submit sample chapters to your editor.”
“Not usually, no. But I’ve had some problems with this one, and you’ve always given me good advice in the past.”
Those words delighted her as much as her compliments about his books had seemed to please him earlier. “I would love to read your manuscript.”
He nodded, though he looked as though he half regretted the offer. “Be sure and tell me if there’s anything about it that bothers you. I can’t promise to be gracious about taking the criticism—I never am—but I want you to be honest, anyway.”
“I’m always honest with my clients,” she said firmly.
He seemed rather amused by the fervency of her assurance. “Go on back and put your feet up, and I’ll bring the manuscript to you.”
“In the bedroom, you mean?”
His eyes met hers. “Yes.”
“Oh. Well, you can just bring it in here and I’ll—”