The Devaney Brothers: Michael and Patrick. Sherryl Woods

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      5

      The memory of that soul-searing kiss kept Michael awake most of the night. It had taken him totally by surprise on so many levels, his mind was still reeling.

      Even after Bryan’s warning, he hadn’t actually expected Kelly to make a move on him. A part of him still thought of her as Bryan’s kid sister. That she had impulsively and thoroughly out-of-the-blue locked lips with him had shocked him right down to his toes. That wasn’t some kid’s move. It was the act of a woman willing to take what she wanted.

      That he had responded, that he had all but devoured her right there in the middle of his brother’s pub in front of a whole slew of witnesses—including her disapproving brother—had been almost as shocking. Maybe that head injury he’d dismissed had left his brain more addled than he’d realized.

      He’d admitted to Kelly that part of the blame was his. He had—albeit unintentionally—pretty much challenged her to kiss him. What red-blooded, healthy, spirited woman wouldn’t have reacted exactly as Kelly had? That didn’t make it right. It certainly didn’t make it smart. And it most definitely didn’t make it something that could be allowed to happen again.

      Unfortunately, short of firing her, he wasn’t entirely clear on how he was going to guarantee that there wouldn’t be a repeat, especially now that they both knew exactly the kind of fireworks they’d be avoiding. Most men—and even a few women—would not willingly turn their backs on that kind of instantaneous combustion, no matter how dangerous.

      Michael muttered a sharp oath under his breath. Why hadn’t he seen that kiss coming? He could have deflected it, laughed off the incident and gotten a decent night’s sleep. Instead, he’d tossed and turned, his body half-aroused by lingering memories of the way Kelly’s mouth had felt on his. Here it was nearly eight in the morning and he was as stirred up as he had been within seconds after she’d dragged her lips away from his. Worst of all, there wasn’t even enough time for him to haul himself into an ice-cold shower before Kelly arrived for their Saturday morning session.

      Well, there was only one thing to do, he finally concluded. He had to face the whole situation squarely and give Kelly the option of quitting or sticking around under a stringent set of hands-off guidelines.

      There was just one tiny little flaw in that plan. Massages were part of the therapy. He’d discovered already that there were a dozen different reasons why it was necessary for her to touch him. Trying to ban all contact between them was pretty much self-defeating in terms of his recovery. Not banning it was dangerous for entirely different reasons.

      Michael thought of the thousand and one dangerous situations in which he’d found himself during his years as a SEAL. How could he possibly let one sexy little therapist scare him out of doing what needed to be done? He couldn’t, not if he ever expected to look at himself in the mirror again.

      Bring her on, he thought with renewed determination. Let her tempt him. He would be strong. He would resist. He would concentrate on the reason she was in his life...to make him whole again, to get him back on his feet. He would pretend she looked like a frog and had the skin of an alligator.

      He choked on the image. Maybe he should forget about trying to deceive himself into thinking she wasn’t attractive and concentrate on developing the willpower of a saint.

      * * *

      “You did what?” Kelly’s boss at the rehab clinic asked incredulously when Kelly stopped by with coffee and blueberry muffins on her way to Michael’s on Saturday morning.

      The coffee and treats were a Saturday ritual. The stunned expression on Moira’s face was a rarity. So was the hard look that followed. Kelly found herself wincing under that intense, disapproving scrutiny.

      “Tell me again,” Moira commanded. “I can’t believe I heard you right the first time.”

      “I kissed Michael,” Kelly repeated. “I flat out, on the lips, kissed him.” Her chin shot up in a display of defiance. “And I would do it again, if I got the chance.”

      That said, her belligerence wilted. “Not that I’m ever likely to have another chance,” she said. “He’ll probably fire me when I walk in there this morning.”

      “He should,” Moira said without the slightest trace of sympathy. “Of all the unprofessional, self-defeating things you could have done—”

      Kelly cut her off. The lecture wasn’t really unexpected, but it was unnecessary. “You’re not telling me anything I haven’t already told myself a thousand times since last night. What do I do now?”

      “Go over there and face the music,” Moira said. “And don’t be surprised if it’s a funeral dirge.”

      “That’s what I love about you, Moira. You always paint such a rosy picture of things,” Kelly said wryly.

      “What did you expect?”

      “I suppose I was hoping you’d mix a tiny bit of compassion in with the lecture,” she admitted. “Imagine that this was a guy you’d had the hots for during most of your adult life. Wouldn’t you have done exactly what I did, given the chance?”

      “You weren’t exactly given the chance,” Moira reminded her. “You stole it.”

      “A technicality,” Kelly insisted. “Remember, he did kiss me back.”

      “Which only proves he’s a red-blooded male.”

      “You don’t intend to give an inch on this, do you?” Kelly asked wearily.

      “And let you off the hook? No way.” Moira’s disapproving frown did lift ever so slightly, though. She leaned forward and subjected Kelly to a thorough survey. “Judging from the pink in your cheeks and the sparkle in your eyes, the kiss must have been worth putting your professional reputation on the line.”

      Kelly sighed. “Oh, yes,” she confided dreamily. “That kiss was everything I ever dreamed of, and then some. I can only imagine what kissing him would be like if his heart was really in it.”

      “Probably best not to go there,” Moira said. “You might be tempted to try it again.”