Indecent Suggestion - By Elizabeth Bevarly Page 0,22

Do you remember anything that I said to you?”

The Feders exchanged a glance, then shook their heads and turned back to look at Dorcas.

“Then I think you’ll see some results,” she told them. “As I said, if not, do let me know, and we’ll see if another session will take care of it. But I think the two of you will be pleased.”

Oh, Dorcas did so love being able to help people. And the Feders seemed like such a nice couple.

“Now go home and relax,” she told them. “Take the rest of the day to yourselves and see what develops. Maybe you could do a little laundry,” she suggested helpfully. “A load of lights. See what happens when you go to put it away. You can settle up with my receptionist on the way out. She should be off the phone by now.”

The Feders gazed at her with obvious confusion about the laundry recommendation, but Dorcas only smiled and showed them out. She needed to get them close to some underwear as soon as possible. Whatever it took to get these two lovebirds in the sack going at it. As often and as long as possible.

Becca and Turner Feder were in for a pleasant surprise, she thought as she watched her office door close behind them. And with any luck at all, it would be soon.

TURNER KNEW THE HYPNOSIS hadn’t worked on him as soon as they hit the street. Because not only did he not feel in any way rested or relaxed—though he had to admit Becca seemed more mellow at the moment than he’d seen her for a while—he was craving a cigarette more than he’d ever craved anything in his life.

Well, except for Becca, natch.

But he was craving a cigarette. Something fierce.

“It didn’t work up there with the Amazing Dorcaso,” he said after they exited the building and began the walk toward where they’d parked her car.

“What do you mean it didn’t work?” Becca echoed, halting in her tracks, forcing Turner to stop walking, too. He turned to face her as she added, “How do you know it didn’t work? It’s too soon to know that.”

“I know because right now, I want a cigarette real bad,” he told her. “Don’t you?”

She thought about that for a moment, then frowned. Dejectedly, she confessed, “Yeah. I do.”

“I told you hypnotherapy was a load of crap,” he said.

They started walking again, more slowly this time. “Well, Dorcas said we could try again,” Becca reminded him. “Maybe we could go back up right now. It’s ten o’clock, when our original appointment was scheduled. She’d have time to see us again for another session.”

“No way,” Turner said decisively. “I’m not going through that hoodoo again. If it didn’t work once, doing it again won’t make any difference.”

She eyed him thoughtfully for a moment before asking, “What do you think she meant by all that ‘go home and do laundry’ stuff?”

“Got me,” he replied.

Becca’s disappointment was obvious. “I was so sure it would work,” she said. “Now what are we going to do?”

Turner glanced up the street, at a drugstore on the corner. “I don’t know about you, but I’m going for a pack of smokes.” He started off, but Becca’s hand on his arm halted him.

“Wait,” she said.

“What?” he asked, turning around to face her.

“Maybe we could still try to quit on our own. Cold turkey.”

He expelled an irritated sigh. “We tried that already, remember? Back in college. It was pointless.”

“But we were kids then,” she reminded him. “We’d do better now. We’re grown-ups. We have more stamina.”

Oh, she had to use a word like stamina, Turner thought. Yeah, he’d love to show her some stamina now. Except not where it came to quitting smoking. On the contrary, he wanted to start smoking with her. And there wouldn’t be a cigarette in sight when he did. Screw the statistics that said college boys had more stamina than guys his age. Turner could prove it all night to Becca if she gave him half a chance.

Oh, yeah, baby. I got your stamina right here.

“Turner?” she said, bringing him out of his reverie. His daydream. Fantasy. Lurid desire. Whatever.

“What?” he asked, unable to curb his irritability.

“You look kind of…”

“What?” he demanded again, even more grouchily this time.

But instead of answering him, Becca began to nibble her bottom lip worriedly. Oh, hell. He hated it when she did that. Because it made him want to nibble her bottom lip, too. And still she had her