Counselor Undone by Lisa Rayne

the phone in his hand and saw it had an active outgoing connection.
    Michael pushed the End button and slid the phone back
into his pocket. “Now you have my number. Call me if you should need anything
on the way home. If not, great. But, do call me when you get home so I know you
arrived safely.”
    She opened her mouth to protest, but Michael cut her off.
She gave a short laugh. “Okay, okay. I’ll call you to let you know I made it
home. Can I go now?”
    He backed up.
    Not giving him a chance to say anything else, she shoved the
car into Reverse and zipped out of the parking space. Her eyes caught on
his one more time when she hit the breaks to shift into Drive .
“Goodnight, Michael,” she said quietly.
    He slid a hand into his pants pocket. His responding
farewell came out in an unintentionally husky voice. “Goodnight, Jordis.”
    Her fingers clenched the steering wheel. She looked away
quickly and maneuvered out of the garage. When she cleared the gate, he dropped
his head back and closed his eyes.
    What was he doing? All he had to do was walk her to her car
and say goodnight. Instead, he’d made out with her in an elevator and harped
about her safety as if he were dropping off a date.
    Turning toward his SUV, he pulled out his key ring and hit
the remote unlock button. The SUV’s lights blinked at him as the keyless entry
system chirped. Michael walked over slowly, pondering that he’d given Jordis
his mobile number.
    He took great care to make sure few people had his mobile
number. It avoided problems, especially those of the female variety. Only his
assistant, Chase, and a few key senior partners had his personal cell number.
If anyone else needed to reach him, they could leave him a voicemail message at
the office—he picked those up religiously—or contact his assistant
who always knew how to get in touch with him.
    He found it ironic women tried so hard to get his personal
number, and the one time he offered it willingly to a female associate, she
didn’t want it. He was almost insulted, but he suspected with Jordis it came
down to a show of independence. His display of old world manners had thrown
her. He’d caught her look of surprise when he’d helped her don her jacket. That
bit with her car keys—not letting him open the door for her—had
also been revealing.
    Michael slid into his ride. He put the key in the ignition,
but didn’t start the car. He glanced over at the elevator bay, pulled out his phone,
and made a call.
    When he finished, the scene in Jordis’s office flashed
through his mind. He’d almost kissed her then. When he’d touched her in the
doorway, he’d wanted only to challenge her bravado a bit, but the smell of her
perfume—a hint of sweet and floral with a crisp aquatic note—had
drawn his mind from her late night lawyering habits to her womanly curves. Once
his hand contacted her warm skin, all he could think about was how soft she
felt, how beautiful her eyes were, and how much he wanted to explore those
luscious lips.
    He’d watched her eyes shift colors like they had in the
conference room when she’d caught him staring at her legs. The vein in her neck
had pulsed at Mach speed, and he’d wondered if anxiety or attraction fueled the
response. She didn’t seem the anxious type. Given her response to him in the
elevator, he’d like to think it had been attraction. Yet, when he and Chase had
walked past her office after Monday’s meeting, he’d heard Vivian ask her about
her sexual preferences. Her nondescript response left questions to which he’d
like to know the answers. It would be his luck that she was indeed gay.
    A gush of disappointment skittered across his gut, making
him grab the steering wheel and squeeze tightly. Shaking off the implications
of his reaction, he chastised himself. Get a grip, Remington. There’s no way
she would have responded to you that way if she were gay.
    Kissing her had felt right, like coming home . His gut churned and an