The Mighty Quinns: Rogan. Kate Hoffmann

dark hair, constrained earlier by a neat clip, now fell in waves around her face, and her lipstick was smudged. She wore a tailored blazer and a white blouse that now seemed a bit wilted.

      “Shouldn’t you be in bed?” she asked, reaching for her nearly empty glass.

      “I was going to ask you the same thing. You look like hell.”

      She held up her glass in a mock toast, then drained the tiny bit of vodka in the bottom. Then she popped the two olives into her mouth and considered his statement. “Great. Then I feel as good as I look.” Frowning, she held out her glass to the bartender and he dutifully prepared another and slid it across the bar.

      “How many of those have you had?”

      “How many of these have I had?” Claudia asked the bartender.

      The young man held up three fingers.

      “Including that one?” Rogan asked.

      He nodded.

      “I think she’s had enough,” Rogan ordered.

      “You’re the man in charge,” she murmured, pointing at him.

      “They’re all safely into their rooms,” he continued. “I don’t think you’ll have any problems until morning.”

      “Thank you,” she said, taking a sip of her new drink. “It’s been a very enlightening day. I’ve come face-to-face with my limitations as a therapist and I feel a bit bruised right now.” She giggled. “And just a little drunk.”

      “I know I told you to loosen up, but I didn’t mean for you to get pissed at the first available opportunity.”

      “Just following orders.” She turned to smile at him. “I am most definitely loose.”

      This was unexpected, Rogan mused. When he’d challenged her to relax, he hadn’t expected her to go so far. But now that she had, he’d make sure she got back to her room with her dignity intact.

      “So, tell me about yourself, Mr. Quinn.” She leaned closer and bumped against his shoulder. “What makes you tick?”

      “Are you trying to analyze me?” Rogan asked.

      “Oh, I don’t have the energy for that tonight. I’m just making polite conversation.”

      “What would you like to know?”

      “Are you married?”

      “No,” he said. She got right to the point. But he wasn’t sure what her point was. Did his relationship status make a difference to her?

      “Explain,” she ordered.

      He gave her a dubious look. “Explain? I’m not sure what you mean.”

      “Exactly how does a man as attractive as you are, with a voice like yours...” She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “And who smells as great as you do. How is it that you aren’t happily married with three children and a dog?”

      “I guess I haven’t found the right woman yet.”

      “You are interested in women, aren’t you? You can tell me.” She pressed a finger to her lips. “I’m a professional.”

      “Yes,” he said, nodding. “I’m interested in women.”

      Claudia sighed, then took another sip of her drink. “Oh, good. It would be such a shame if you weren’t. She drew a deep breath. “So, do you have a girlfriend?”

      “Do you always interrogate strangers like this?” he asked. “Or is this the martini talking?”

      “I always do this,” she said. “I have a natural curiosity. Most people don’t mind. In fact, most people enjoy talking about their problems, and when they find out I’m a psychologist, they’re happy to get a free session.”

      “Well, I don’t require your services, Dr. Mathison.”

      “Everyone has at least a few problems worth talking about,” she countered.

      “Like your need to control every single moment of this trip? That’s going to be a problem. Maybe we should talk about that.”

      She considered his statement for a long moment, then nodded. “Point taken. I have my own little demons. But I’m curious about yours.”

      “I don’t have any.” Rogan recognized the lie. But the last person he wanted peering into the dark corners of his mind was Dr. Claudia Mathison.

      “I’ll make you a deal,” she said.

      “What’s that?”

      “If you get me to loosen up, then I get to peek inside your head.”

      “You want to x-ray my brain?”

      “No,” she said with a giggle. “I want to shrink your head. I want to figure you out. If you manage to loosen me up, then I get to analyze you. You have to answer all my questions.”

      “Believe me, you won’t find anything of interest inside my head. I’m a pretty normal bloke.”

      “There’s no such thing. Besides, look at yourself. You’re gorgeous—and you’re not married. Not even attached.”

      “How do you know I’m not attached?”

      “Because if you were, you wouldn’t be staring at me like you want to kiss me,” she said.

      Rogan gasped. “I do not—”

      “Oh, come now. You’re most definitely flirting with me. You touch me every opportunity you get.” She nodded at his hand resting on her leg, his fingers in hers. “See there? So tell me all your secrets.”

      Rogan downed his whiskey, then motioned for another. He’d never met a woman like Claudia, a woman who said exactly what was on her mind the moment it occurred to her. He was used to expending all his energy trying to figure out the opposite sex. Women never said exactly what they meant, they were always playing some sort of game.

      Maybe that was why he’d been reluctant to make a romantic commitment. How could a guy trust his heart to a woman when he couldn’t be sure when she was telling the truth and when she was lying? “I don’t have any secrets,” Rogan said. “Maybe we should talk about tomorrow’s itinerary.”

      “Classic avoidance,” she said.

      “I’m doing my job,” he countered.

      “I’m sure everything will go exactly as planned.”

      “You can’t plan for every eventuality, Dr. Mathison. I—”

      “You should call me Claudia,” she interrupted. “Unless you deliberately want to maintain a distance between us. Which doesn’t seem to be the case since you’re still touching me.”

      Rogan looked down to find his fingers still tangled in hers. Hell, he hadn’t even realized what he was doing. He gently pulled his hand away.

      “I might change our plan a bit,” he said. “I don’t want to stress the group out too much on the first day.”

      “It was a certified disaster today, wasn’t it?” she muttered. “I should have planned better. But it was just like a— What do you call that when snow slides down the side of a hill and—”

      “Avalanche?”

      “Yes! An avalanche. It started small and it just got bigger and bigger until I couldn’t seem to stop it. Avalanche. Why couldn’t I remember that word?”

      “You’re exhausted. Your brain isn’t functioning at full capacity. And you’re working on your third martini.”

      “I require very little sleep,” she informed him.

      Jaysus, she was a quirky little thing, Rogan mused, suppressing