When he returned, she was in the chair, the robe wrapped around her. And though her skin had a sheen of sweat, she was grinning. She took the bottle of water from him with a shaky hand and kept smiling. “I fucking did it.”
He nodded with pride. “You totally did.”
“Then I lost it.” She let out a laugh. “But I’ll take it. I’m not in a heap on the floor crying, so I’ll call it a win.”
He smiled and squatted down in front of her so he wasn’t looming over her. “Absolutely a win. You did awesome.”
“And…I made you cop a feel and now I feel kind of awkward. Was that okay? I mean, I know that you said touching can be part of the therapy but you probably meant with, like, discussion before or whatever and you taking the lead on that.”
“It’s not a problem at all. This is about your comfort level and what you feel you need. Bradley is going to touch you in the love scene, so I think it was a logical next step if you were comfortable with it.” He stood and helped her to her feet. “Did anything in particular trigger the panic attack or did it just hit you?”
She tied the belt on the robe and color appeared on her cheeks as she shrugged.
His internal sensors went off. “What was it?”
She wet her lips and dipped her head. “I…uh. Well, when we were acting out the scene, I noticed you…getting into it, you know, physically, which helped actually. It put me fully in the head of my character. But then when you opened your eyes, my effect on you…went away.”
Lane cringed inwardly and tried not to show his frustration at how his body had gone rogue. “Carlotta—”
She lifted a hand. “No, it’s fine. It’s just that reaction triggered those what doesn’t he like about my body? thoughts, which is dumb, I know. Because how you feel about how I look is not supposed to matter. I don’t want someone else’s opinion of my body affecting me. That’s the whole point of this. But it’s still a knee-jerk reaction.”
“Stop calling yourself dumb. You’re not. Being able to pick all that apart is insightful and self-aware. My body is going to react how it’s going to react. But my head stays in professional mode, so you can be assured of that.” Even though, in truth, he’d wandered way off the professional reservation fantasizing about Elle mid-session. “And I’m not going to spend time reassuring you or telling you what I think about your body. My opinion of it, and anyone else’s, needs to be completely irrelevant to you.”
“I know. I’m working on not caring.” She gave him a brief smirk. “So fuck you and whatever your opinion is, Lane Cannon.”
He laughed. “There you go.”
“And I’m going to take your initial reaction as a sign of my superior acting skills. I made you slip into the role, too.” She tilted her chin up in faux haughtiness, making her look even younger than her twenty-four years.
He grinned. “You’re going to nail the role.”
“God, I hope so.” She closed the distance between them and surprised him with a quick, tight hug. “Thanks so much for today.”
He gave her a pat on the back and then stepped away, forever conscious of keeping boundaries clear in a very blurry job. “It was all you.”
“No way. I think your idea about the blindfold was genius. It helped me get into character without having to think too hard. Next time, maybe I’ll be able to do it without making you close your eyes. I’m going to rock your world, Seedy Strip Club Guy.”
With that, she turned on her heel and headed toward the restrooms to change and leave. Lane shook his head. Genius. Yeah, that wasn’t a word thrown at him often.
He walked over to the stereo to shut off the music system and checked his watch. He was supposed to meet with one of his professors tonight. Dr. Arquette was his favorite teacher, but when she’d pulled him aside yesterday and asked to meet up with him to discuss his struggles in her class, his stomach had flipped over. He’d told her he couldn’t stop by during her office hours, but she’d said she’d be happy to meet him for coffee tonight.
So whatever it was, it couldn’t be good if she was going out of her way to set up a meeting with him on a Friday night. He grabbed his backpack off the floor and waited for Carlotta to leave before locking up and heading to his fate.
Chapter 7
The Pecan Street Café was busy with students and people in suits with loosened ties at this time of the evening. Dr. Arquette was already at a table sipping something steamy with foam. A half-eaten pastry filled the plate in front of her. She lifted her hand in greeting when Lane walked in, and he was jarred by how different she looked from when she was teaching class. Instead of slacks and a blouse, she was in jeans and a soft cream-colored sweater, her dark hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun. For the first time, it registered that she was probably around the same age as he was.
He put in a quick order as the waitress passed him and tried to keep a pleasant expression on his face as he walked over to the table. He nodded her way. “Professor Arquette.”
“Lane.” She smiled and motioned for him to sit. “And please, call me Allison. We’re both grown-ups and not on campus.”
He pulled out his chair and sat. “All right, Allison.”
She glanced at him in that way that let him know he made her a little nervous. He’d gotten used to that look when he’d worked as an escort. Tentative attraction. A certain brand of awareness a woman could get when she was interested in a guy but not sure how to proceed.
The waitress dropped off his black coffee, and he fought back the wariness that kind of look stirred up. This wasn’t a meet up before a “date” with a client. This was his professor. And he couldn’t imagine Professor Arquette being anything but professional. So even if she was interested, he doubted she’d go there. “I appreciate you meeting me so late.”
She waved a dismissive hand. “It’s not a problem. I usually stop here on my way home a few times a week anyway. Their chocolate croissants are a weakness of mine.”