Celtic Fire: Solstice Seduction

Excerpt From: Solstice Seduction

Chapter One

Emerson Matthews watched her patient through the two-way mirror, and he gazed right back. Obviously, he knew he was being observed. Stretching out his long legs he leaned back in the chair and stared as if he could bore a hole through the glass. He shoved his shoulder-length hair from his face in irritation—chestnut coloured waves she itched to drag her fingers through. At this distance it was impossible to discern the colour of his eyes, but she had no trouble making out his high cheekbones and gorgeous mouth.

It was impossible to look at him and not imagine how his lips would feel against hers. He pushed up the sleeves of his knit shirt to reveal beautifully sculpted forearms. With his broad chest, she couldn’t help but wonder what he looked like beneath his clothes. She’d bet his legs and ass were as tightly muscled as his arms.

She sighed. Getting worked up over a patient was number one on the no-no list for therapists everywhere. She’d clearly gone too long without sex and it was affecting her work. The slightly less rational part of her brain insisted that she was merely experiencing the logical response to being confronted with the single most gorgeous man she’d ever seen. No matter what he looked like, she needed to get her mind out of his pants and help him. Focus, Emerson. Focus.

She reread the scant information on his chart. Having attempted suicide by train, Taliesin No-Last-Name was brought into St. Mary’s Psychiatric Facility late last night by the local sheriff’s department. The train operator insisted that he’d hit the man, but the guy didn’t have a scratch on him. Even his clothes were fine. He’d complained of a headache, but that was it. He’d also initially demanded—loudly—to leave. But that wasn’t going to happen, not until he’d been thoroughly evaluated. Adjusting her glasses, she turned the knob and opened the door.

The man rose to his feet with a loose-limbed grace and offered her his hand as he read her name tag. “Dr. Matthews. I’m assuming it’s too much to hope that you’ve come to release me.”

“Why don’t we talk a bit first?” Trying to place his slight accent, she gestured to the chair behind him as she sank into the one opposite him. He didn’t bother to hide his annoyance as he sat and stared at her while she straightened the forms on her clipboard. His eyes were grey. Definitely grey. God, he was gorgeous. Focus.

“Despite what it likely says in your file, I wasn’t attempting suicide.”

She glanced at the chart. “I’m not sure how else to interpret standing in front of an oncoming train.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “I was pushed.”

“By whom?”

He shifted uneasily. “A friend.”

“Some friend,” she muttered.

His lips curved in a bone-melting grin. “Yeah. He can be a real bastard.”

Emerson stared at him trying to remember where she’d been going with that line of questioning.

Train. Death wish. Right. “The engineer’s statement doesn’t mention anyone else.”

Taliesin tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling. “It wouldn’t. My friend is rarely visible to humans.”

Rarely visible to humans. It was going to be a long night.

Emerson glanced out the window behind him and watched as huge fluffy snowflakes drifted to the ground. She might as well get comfortable. It wasn’t like she had anywhere to go—besides, she’d volunteered for the three weeks prior to Christmas, just so she could get time off over the holidays to spend with her family.

She studied the man across from her. He looked completely lucid, but his comments so far belied that. “Let’s start with a history,”

she said turning to a fresh intake sheet. “Name?”

He shifted in his chair and she tried not to admire the way the worn fabric of his jeans encased his legs. “Taliesin.”

“Last name?”

“I don’t have one.”

Emerson tried not to frown. “What about your parents? What’s their surname?”

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, a lock of hair partially covering his eye. “I don’t have parents in the strictest sense of the word.”

Emerson fought the urge to brush his hair aside and see if it was as soft as it looked. “You’re an orphan?” she asked. Perhaps she’d follow in Angelina Jolie’s footsteps and adopt him.... Okay, this was inexcusable. She was a professional, for God’s sake. Obviously she needed to get laid and quickly. This inability to focus was interfering with her job.

“Not exactly.” He stood and walked to the window.

She tried not to groan. His ass was as perfect as she’d imagined it would be. Clearing her throat, she asked, “Age?”

“Not sure.”

She studied his reflection in the window pane. If she had to guess, she’d say late twenties to early thirties. Time for a different tack. “I’ve noticed you’ve got a bit of an accent. Where are you from?”

“Lots of different places.” His lips curved in a sad smile as he stared out the window. “But I spent my formative years in Wales.”

That was an interesting coincidence. Her grandmother was from Wales. Of course, her sister, Beckett, would tell her there were no such things as coincidences, but Emerson didn’t buy into it. There were no mystical forces guiding hers or anyone else’s life. If God existed, and that was a huge if, as far as she was concerned, He sure as hell didn’t care about any of the people he’d supposedly created. If He did, He’d actually bother to answer prayers.

The pain of loss clogged her throat, but she pushed it away and stood, nearly colliding with the man she was supposed to be evaluating. Taliesin placed his hand under her elbow to steady her.

“Are you all right?” he asked, concern darkening his eyes.

The warmth of his body seeped through her blouse, and she wanted nothing more than to sink into him and forget. He stared into her eyes as if he could find the answers to the mysteries of the universe.

She swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry. “I’m fine,” she managed and stepped back.