“Taking Pilates,” I muttered.

Beckett chuckled and moved aside as I pulled out my wallet. “I need to schedule an appointment with Dr. Harrison for next week,” I said a little sharply to the receptionist who seemed unfazed by my rudeness.

“You see Dr. Harrison? He’s pretty good. I go to Dr. Callahan,” Beckett announced as though I had asked. I tried to ignore him. Even though standing so close to him had my stomach doing the nausea dance again. Fluttery wings tortured my insides and I fought the urge to smile at him. Stupid, traitorous mouth.

Beckett waved his hand in front of my face. “Hello! Anyone there? Cat got your tongue?” he asked, and I swatted his hand away.

“Personal space, dude. Seriously,” I snapped even as my lips quirked and attempted to curve upward. There was no way I was going to let on that his charm worked on me.

“I’m here dropping off some insurance information to Lynn, my all-time favorite receptionist. Just in case you wanted to know,” Beckett went on.

“Yeah, I didn’t. But thanks for the update,” I deadpanned. I wouldn’t look at him. If I did, it would all be over. My poor stomach couldn’t deal with any more flipping and rolling.

I purposefully gave Lynn my full attention.

“I’d like something in the morning if possible,” I told her. Lynn seemed amused by the scene between Beckett and me.

“I’m getting the impression that you’re trying to ignore me,” Beckett observed when I still wouldn’t talk to him.

“Whatever gave you that idea?” I snarked as I handed the receptionist some cash to cover my co-pay. “Thursday would be great,” I told her, angling my body away from Beckett and his overeagerness.

“You don’t like me, do you,” Beckett stated and then shoved his way into my space again. His lack of personal boundaries was starting to become a problem. He jerked his thumb in my direction and widened his eyes dramatically at Lynn. “She doesn’t like me, Lynn. Can you believe it? Me! Everyone loves me.”

Lynn, who was an older lady with frizzy red hair and lipstick on her teeth and looked like someone’s granny after a three-day bender, gave Beckett an indulgent smile. She patted the back of his hand. “Not everyone is as susceptible to your honeyed tongue as I am, sweetheart.”

I rolled my eyes and feigned annoyance. I certainly wouldn’t tell the irritating man in front of me that my problem with him had absolutely nothing to do with not liking him.

Lynn leaned in toward me and dropped her voice in a conspiratorial whisper. “I don’t think he’s going away until you talk to him. He’s relentless.”

Beckett grinned at her and leaned over the counter to give her a loud kiss on the cheek. “You know me too well, Lynn.”

The cooing receptionist pulled out a small bowl of wrapped sweets and held it out. Beckett grabbed two and offered one to me. I shook my head. Beckett shrugged, unwrapped both, and popped them in his mouth.

“Did you have a good appointment?” he asked, his words muffled by the candy.

“My god, is this question and answer hour?” I asked, sounding cranky. Lynn snorted and I smiled at her. I was enjoying the banter between Beckett and me. Though I’d never admit that out loud.

“It’s official, Beckett, here’s a woman who won’t swoon over your witty personality,” Lynn teased, taking my money and printing off a receipt.

Beckett laughed again and this time I let myself look at him. He seemed so happy. So content. I couldn’t understand how someone with such a serious ailment could afford that sort of emotion.

But here he was, joking and goofing around, and it was hard to not be pulled in by his mood.

“Are you waiting to see your doctor or are you leaving?” I asked abruptly.

“So you can’t answer my questions but I’m supposed to answer yours?” he joked, his blue eyes sparkling. I should probably have been embarrassed at my lack of manners, but my foot had made a home in my mouth and seemed to be comfortable there.

“Answer it or don’t. Whatever,” I muttered, turning away from him and back to Lynn who was clicking away at her computer.

“So is there anything open next Thursday morning?” I asked, tapping my fingers on the counter in an anxious, uneven rhythm.

Lynn looked at the computer screen. “How’s 9:30?” she asked.

Beckett was watching me and not even trying to hide it. I felt twitchy under his intense gaze and wondered what it was about me that interested him so much. But I didn’t dare ask.

“That’s fine. Thank you,” I said to Lynn, trying to be more polite than I had been up to that point.

The receptionist handed me a small card with my appointment time on it, and I stuffed it into my purse. “Okay, well, see you next week,” I said lamely and proceeded to slink away as fast as I could.

“Corin, wait!”

I looked over my shoulder to see Beckett following me. I stopped, knowing that if I didn’t, he’d just run to catch up with me. Lynn the receptionist was right. Beckett Kingsley was relentless.

“Do you have somewhere you need to be?” Beckett asked randomly.

“Uh, well…I…uh…” Words got lost somewhere between my brain and my lips.

“If you don’t, I was wondering if you wanted to grab a tea or coffee or whatever. There’s a shop next door,” Beckett offered, and I stared at him, blinking, mouth open and closing like a damn fish.

“Uh. I…uh…”

Beckett held the door open and put his other hand on the small of my back. “After you,” he said, and I startled at the brief physical contact. My skin sizzled. I burned.

Just from the touch of his fingers through cotton.

I hurried outside, his hand falling away and I tried not to be sad about that.

“I should get back to my studio,” I protested weakly. I wasn’t sure I could survive drinking anything with Beckett without dribbling it down my chin and stuttering like an idiot.

Plus I didn’t do coffee. I didn’t make a habit of sitting with people I didn’t know, discussing the weather and politics or whatever it was normal twentysomethings talked about.

God knows what sort of things would come flying out of my mouth when I least expected it. If I wasn’t careful, I’d end up telling him about the new rash on my ass, or the fact that I currently had sweat dripping between my boobs.

“Come on, one cup of something or other won’t make you too late,” he urged, and I found myself following him next door without another thought. It was entirely too easy to agree to whatever he suggested.

I wasn’t sure why this good-looking, obviously very likable guy wanted to spend time with me. Maybe he was insane. Or perhaps he was luring me into a false sense of calm before he kidnapped and killed me. Some serial killers were known to be very charming and seemed like everyone else.

I’d have to keep a close eye on this one. I didn’t want to end up stuffed in his trunk.

I also wondered if he still didn’t harbor some strange responsibility complex after helping me all those weeks ago.

That seemed worse than the possibility of him being a raging lunatic.

“You don’t have to talk to me, you know. Just because you helped me that one time doesn’t mean you have to be my friend. And if you’re planning on kidnapping and killing me, I carry pepper spray,” I warned, pulling the shiny metallic tube out of my purse.

Beckett held his hands up. “Whoa! No killing. Just hot beverages. Promise!”

I put the pepper spray back into my purse, feeling foolish. “Then I’m not sure if you’re suffering from some sort of savior complex, but this,” I waved my hand between us, “isn’t necessary. I’m not looking for pity friends.”

I sounded so defensive. I couldn’t help it. I felt like this was all a great, big joke. That at any moment a bucket of pig’s blood would drop on top of my head and I’d be left looking like an idiot.

It had happened enough times in my life that it wouldn’t have been surprising. Well, not the pig’s blood but definitely the idiot thing.