Stealing Kisses. Harmony Evans

must be hard. My clients complain about that all the time,” she said, empathizing. “This place is huge. Maybe it needs some more furniture or something. So it won’t feel so...um...empty when you come home.”

      Derek furrowed his brow and looked past her into the living room. “It doesn’t look empty to me. I’ve got my top-of-the-line TV, a custom-built couch and the remote.” His eyes settled back on hers. “What more could a man want after a long trip?”

      She shrugged and slid her mug closer, debating whether to take another sip under his gaze. It was watchful, curious and just plain sexy. Yet he seemed totally unaware of her at the moment and instead appeared to be pondering her question seriously.

      Suddenly, Derek picked up both coffee mugs and put them aside. “But in a way, though, I think you may be right.” He leaned both elbows on the counter. “This place is missing something.”

      Derek inched closer, his head and eyes nearly parallel now with hers. Natalie held her breath, trying not to focus on his full lips and strong jaw threatening her ability to remain aloof.

      “It needs a woman’s touch,” he teased. “Interested?”

      His steel-gray eyes had a hint of fire in them. But there was no question that the rest of him, from his locks down to his toes, was smoking hot.

      Interested? She’d be a fool not to be, and an even bigger fool to fall for his charm and good looks.

      This is business, she reminded herself as she picked up her mug and leveled her eyes at him.

      Steam from the hot liquid rose between them, tickling her nose. Her lower abdomen pulsed with the tension of desire.

      Derek didn’t move. Neither did Natalie.

      She swallowed hard. His eyes immediately flicked down to trace the curve of her neck and her throat went dry. She’d always had a hate/curse relationship with her long neck, but the way Derek was looking at it made her wish it was even longer.

      Although she was flattered by his interest, the man was making her feel things that could only hurt her in the end.

      “I’m not available,” she said, her voice flat.

      And she wasn’t. To any man.

      Getting her heart broken was not on her to-do list.

      His arms squeaked against the counter like fingernails scratching down a chalkboard as he stood. His back was ramrod-straight and he didn’t say a word. It was clear she’d hurt him and that surprised her. She knew his reputation. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have other options for female companionship. It shouldn’t even matter that she’d rejected him.

      Then why did she get the sense that it did?

      Time to change the subject.

      She took another sip of the coffee.

      “Ooh-la-la is right. This is heavenly.” She sighed. “By far the best café au lait I’ve ever tasted.”

      The smile returned to his face, although her heart was heavy with the knowledge that when he heard what she was about to say, it wouldn’t last long.

      “I thought you’d like it,” he responded. “Now that I’ve been benched for the next few days, I’ve got a lot of time on my hands.”

      He rubbed his palms together as if he were formulating a devious plan. “So what’s on the agenda first? I’ve got a mountain of basketball shoes sitting in the middle of my closet just dying to be organized. One of the reasons I think I’m late in the morning is because I can never find shoes that match.”

      She flipped open her notebook. “That’s not quite what I had in mind.”

      He frowned as he stirred some sugar into his coffee. “O-kay. Maybe we can go shopping for a couple of new alarm clocks that have really annoying rings. The one on my phone obviously isn’t enough to wake me up.”

      She crossed her legs to steady her nerves, aware of his eyes on them as he sipped his coffee.

      “Actually, we’re going to see your father.”

      Derek clattered his mug against the granite countertop. “What are you talking about?”

      Her heart lurched at the sudden change in his demeanor. The hard stare he gave her now was a far cry from the way he’d been looking at her moments earlier.

      She shifted in her seat. “I’m talking about making things right with your family, especially your dad.”

      He flattened his palms on the counter.

      “How did you find out about him?” he demanded. “I thought you were a life coach, not a private detective.”

      She kept her voice calm. “I do background research on all my clients, and it’s amazing what you can find archived on the internet. The newspaper articles are all there and—”

      He cut her off with a wave of his hand. “My dad doesn’t want anything to do with me. Trust me.”

      “I think the opposite is true,” she ventured.

      His eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

      “I don’t think you want anything to do with him.”

      He said nothing, yet something seemed to deflate within him.

      “As I was saying, there are tons of articles about your rags-to-riches success story on the web, but your family is rarely mentioned.”

      “So?” he challenged. “I thought you were here to help me get off the bench and back on the basketball court where I belong, not poke around where you don’t belong.”

      She understood his anger, but she wasn’t going to let herself be deterred by it.

      “I’m here to help you in any way I can,” she replied.

      Derek walked around the counter, sat on the chair opposite her and crossed his arms. “Well, you can start by leaving my past out of it.”

      She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I can’t do that.”

      He leaned forward. “Why not?”

      She met his eyes and kept her voice firm.

      “Sometimes when people have unresolved issues in their past, it can affect their lives in the present, as well as the future. No matter how successful they become, there’s always something missing.”

      She knew that feeling all too well. It was something she struggled with every day.

      He waved her comment away and crossed his arms over his massive chest. “That sounds like some kind of self-help mumbo jumbo, Dr. Kenyon.”

      She took in a sharp breath and brought her hand to her mouth.

      “Don’t look so shocked that I did a little investigation of my own,” he advised.

      She said nothing for a moment, preferring to forget about that part of her life. A time when she’d tried to start over, and failed miserably.

      “Actually, I’m glad to hear that you did a little digging on your own,” she said, recovering quickly. “It shows you’re highly invested in doing things in your life differently.”

      “Or it could show that I’m highly interested in you,” he added, watching her for her reaction.

      Her heart fluttered, yet she managed to keep her expression calm and her voice light. “I’d heard you were a huge flirt, Derek. You don’t have to prove it to me.”

      His brows knit together and she sensed he was disappointed with her response. What had he expected her to say? Her interest in him was strictly professional and her fantasies were hers alone.

      “Do you remember Jamal Carter?” The former NBA star turned heroin addict had been her last patient in her short-lived second career as a psychologist.