The Third Kiss. Leanna Wilson

you find me?”

      “It’s not a secret that you come here every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, is it?”

      “No, but—”

      “Good, then your secretary isn’t in trouble.” He swiveled a kid-size chair toward him on its legs and settled into it as if it were as comfortable as a leather recliner. He stretched out his long legs and crossed them at the ankles, the toes of his custom black boots pointing toward the ceiling.

      Irritation sparked inside her. How would he like someone barging into one of his high-powered business meetings? “I’m in the middle of a session.”

      “Hey, cowboy,” Matt addressed Jeffrey. “How are you?”

      Her attention snapped toward the little boy who stared at Matt like he was Paul Bunyan reincarnated.

      But he wasn’t. He was a wealthy business owner. He’d franchised his family’s store, taken it nationwide, diversified Cutter’s assets and branched out beyond Stetsons and Ropers to retail clothes, fast food and oil. He bought and sold companies like most people borrowed books from the library. His rate of return with women was, according to the tabloids, even faster.

      And here he was at a little, out-of-the-way orphanage, concentrating on a five-year-old as if he was about to make a business deal. “Do you mind my interrupting you and Dr. Watson for a minute?”

      Brooke caught a small, almost indiscernible, shake of the little boy’s head. But it was there! She wouldn’t have believed it if she hadn’t witnessed it. Her heartbeat kicked up its pace.

      Unbelievable! She’d been working with Jeffrey for over six months and there had been only minuscule improvements. Most of her colleagues would have given up by now. Then Matt Cutter waltzes in the room and the kid merely acts shy, instead of traumatized. What was it about the famous cowboy? Who was he…Prince Charming in a Stetson?

      That was dangerous thinking, even if she didn’t want a Prince Charming. And she didn’t.

      Women acted as if he was Tom Cruise or something, swarming around him, fawning over him, buying up any newspapers, magazines or tabloids that printed his picture. Well, she didn’t get it. Maybe that’s why she was more irritated than delighted at Jeffrey’s tiny response.

      “What are y’all reading?” Matt asked, disturbing her thoughts even more as he turned the book over on her lap and brushed his hand against her thigh. A jolt of electricity coursed through her. “Hmm. Looks interesting. But carnivals and circuses are for little kids. Not big boys like you.”

      Annoyance nettled inside her, especially when she saw Jeffrey’s eyes widen.

      “I’ve got a book at home, cowboy, that I bet you’d like. It’s about cowboys and horses. Would you like me to bring it sometime for you to read?”

      Again, the little boy gave a microscopic indication that he would.

      Amazed, Brooke wondered what magic Matt had woven in the few moments he’d been here. She stared at him, bewildered and confounded, but also impressed and baffled. This showed progress. And gave her hope for the little boy. But how had Matt accomplished so much in so little time?

      Catching sight of Mrs. Morris walking the periphery of the rec room, wearing her brightly colored quilted vest, Brooke leaned toward the little boy. “Jeffrey, it’s time for me to go, but I’ll be back in a couple of days. Okay?”

      No response. Frustration returned full force.

      Trying to remain positive, she touched his shoulder lightly. “I’ll bring you a cowboy book then, if you want.”

      She stood, indicating it was time for Matt to follow her. Picking up her briefcase and taking her childhood book away from Matt, she told Jeffrey goodbye and turned on her heel. Mindful that the CEO was following at his own leisurely pace, she wondered if he was surveying the orphanage, planning to buy it and turn it into condos or a golf course. Men like Matt Cutter always had their own agendas.

      When she glanced over her shoulder to give a final wave to Jeffrey, she almost tripped over her own two feet. Matt Cutter was following her, all right—and staring right at her behind! Instead of outrage she felt a shiver of satisfaction ripple down her spine. Matt Cutter dated only the most beautiful women—actresses and models, the créme de la créme.

      Although she felt a boost to her womanly pride to know he was looking at her with obvious desire, that’s where it ended. Because she did not want Matt or his interest. No way. No how.

      “Goodbye, Dr. Watson,” Mrs. Morris said as Brooke signed out for the day. “We’ll see you Wednesday.”

      “Yes, yes, fine.” Straightening her thoughts as she would a stack of wrinkled, ruffled papers, she sharpened her focus. “If there are any changes with Jeffrey…if you need me for anything…just call.”

      “Of course.” The woman shifted her gaze and patted her graying pageboy cut. “And, goodbye, Mr. Cutter. Come back anytime to visit. Anytime.”

      He stopped and gave the older woman’s hand more of a caress than a shake. Brooke tried not to roll her eyes. Then he gave a nod to the receptionist and flashed one of his famous smiles to the other gawking workers lurking around doorways as if they had nothing better to do than stare at the famous CEO.

      “It was a pleasure, ladies,” he said with a wave.

      A pleasure? Good grief! Was he running for public office? She shoved her way out the door and into the glaring sunshine.

      After reaching the curb, they walked through the parking lot. When she was sure they were out of hearing range of the orphanage, she turned on Matt Cutter with professional outrage. “What do you think you’re doing? I was in the middle of a session and you barged in—”

      “Whoa.” Matt held up one hand in self-defense. “Mrs. Morris said your time was up, anyway. She was on her way over to take Jeffrey back to class. I simply interrupted for her.”

      He gave her his know-it-all grin that had zero effect on her. Except to aggravate her even more.

      “A nice lady, Mrs. Morris,” he said, apparently oblivious to Brooke’s anger, or perhaps he was ignoring it. “She was gracious enough to show me where you were. Said it wouldn’t hurt since Jeffrey doesn’t respond to anyone.” A frown pinched his forehead. “What’s wrong with him, anyway?”

      “It’s unethical for me to discuss a patient. Besides, it’s none of your business.” She crossed her arms over her chest. The Texas sun beat down on her, causing a trickle of perspiration to slide down her spine. Or was Matt to blame for her sudden flush? “Now if you’re here about those damn boots—”

      “Easy, Cinderella. I didn’t come bearing gifts, glass slippers or boots. But if that’s what would make you smile, then I’ll try to find something.” He patted his shirt and pants pockets. “Or better yet, next time I’ll bring a dozen roses with me.”

      She didn’t want roses or anything else from this man. “Just get to your point. There is a point to your being here, isn’t there?”

      “Always.”

      She waited.

      He watched her. Not really watched, but eyed her, sized her up, letting his gaze roam over her freely, intimately. She felt a shiver ripple through her that wasn’t revulsion. It was awareness…arousal…alarming!

      Why wasn’t she insulted? Why didn’t she want to slap his face? What made her suddenly think about kissing his arrogant mouth? She had to get away from this man. The faster the better.

      “Well…” She tapped her toe.

      His blue eyes glimmered with a low-burning heat that made her insides shift eagerly, no, restlessly. Uncomfortably, she corrected.

      “Mind if we go somewhere where we can speak privately?” he asked.

      “Yes, I do mind. I mind your