To Catch a Falling Star Read Free

electric spark to erupt from my hand and travel through my body. Just as the first time we met, he holds my hand longer than necessary.
    “Hi, Melody, good to see you again,” his voice rumbles through the empty hall. I frown. “We met…” He arches his brow and adds. “At Will and Portia’s wedding.”
    Wow, he has a good memory. It’s been over four years. “Oh, I remember you. I’m just surprised you remember me. I was huge,” I say, referring to my pregnancy. “I’m very sorry for being late. I got caught up at a crime scene.”
    “No prob,” he says, unimpressed with my apology.
    Balancing his folder and my purse in one hand, I slide the key into my office door, swing it open, and wait. He glances my way and unhurriedly swaggers his way inside. I resist the urge to rush him since I’m the one who’s late.
    I circle my desk, drop my purse beside my chair, and gesture for him to sit. He slouches in the chair and crosses his arms. How can someone be so sexy, sad, and attractive all at once? Oh, and unapologetically uninterested.
    Did I mention distracting? Summoning my wits, I sit in my chair and smile.
    “Will must have explained why I’m the one meeting you today.” I see on his face that he couldn’t care less. He doesn’t answer, so I proceed.
    “Oh, well. Dad is away, so here I am.” I sigh. Briefly, his silver eyes examine my body, as if stripping me. Then they turn into an apathetic stare. “Given the emergency and uniqueness of your case, Will asked me to see you until Dad gets back.” He nods. Am I boring him?
    “First, let me tell you a bit about my background,” I say as his uninterested eyes rummage through the room. Yeah, he is bored.
    “I graduated from the University of Connecticut with a degree in psychology, but I currently work as a police officer. Occasionally I assist with the counseling program offered by the church. I have a limited experience with substance abuse, though it was my area of interest while in undergrad.” His eyes meet mine briefly.
    “But enough about me. Tell me what brings you here.” Waiting for his reply, I open my notebook and grab a pencil. Silence permeates the room. I look up, and our gaze meets. Like a lazy cat, he stretches his lean body. Slowly, he examines my face. He briefly stares at my lips. My mouth goes dry, and I squirm in the chair.
    Finally, his eyes glint with what I perceive as irritation. “You didn’t read my damn file?” he asks.
    “Yes, I read it.”
    “So you know what a fucking screw-up I am.”
    “Yes, I know,” I say calmly.
    His eyes narrow slightly. Huh, got your attention. I pat myself on the back.
    “Why the redundancy?” His harsh voice is a sexy rumble.
    “Because I need to know if you have had enough and only you can voice that,” I say.
    “Yeah, you’re damn right I’ve had enough. Why else would I be here twiddling my fingers and playing patient while you play the good therapist who saves the fucking day. Oh, yeah, because of a goddamn judge’s order,” he says with anger, resentment, and defiance.
    “I like that you are able to answer truthfully. That’s a good start.”
    “Truth is I’ve had enough of it all. Including these fucking good-for-nothing therapeutic sessions.”
    Repressing the need to cringe at each time he drops the F-bomb, I inhale. With the tip of my pencil I push a picture frame with Ella’s photo in it toward him. “See this face?” He arches his brow. His eyes remain impassive.
    “I have not had enough time with her today. Right now, as we speak, she must to be wondering where I am.” My voice is calm, almost sweet. “So, if you think for a moment that you are going to waste my time, you are utterly wrong. I’m here attempting to help you as a favor to my brother and his wife. But trust me, Tarry, I’ll not put up with your lack of cooperation or tantrums.”
    He blows out a long breath of air and runs a shaking hand through his tousled hair.
    “Listen, I’m on a