What could they talk about that wouldn’t add to his stress? She’d googled Gavin Miller when Ms. Dreyer had called to tell her about the job, but most of the information pertained to either his writing career or his canceled engagement to the actress Irene Bartram, both of which were off-limits. However, there was that photo of him talking with the famous quarterback Luke Archer after a football game. “Are you a sports fan?”

“What would give you that idea?”

“You’re a guy.” Her smile invited him to share the joke.

“How gratifying that you noticed.” He gave her a look that made little flickers of heat waltz through her. Then he tilted his head as though considering an important issue. “I like ice hockey and tennis.”

“Not football?”

“Ah, you are referring to my association with the legendary Luke Archer.” Anger sparked in his eyes. “I cheered him on in the Super Bowl, which was a mistake. He’s become an arrogant ass. Pardon my language.”

Surprise flicked at her.

“You’re quite welcome to tell him I said so.” Amusement slipped in alongside the anger in Miller’s tone.

“I’m not likely to have the opportunity to speak with Luke Archer.”

“Then I’m quite safe in saying anything I want to about him.”

Her curiosity got the better of her. “Aren’t you friends?”

“Former friends.”

“I’m sorry.”

He laughed, and this time it was real. “He pissed me off last night, so I’m venting. Mostly because it’s impossible to get a rise out of the Iceman. I suppose I still consider him a friend.”

“That’s his nickname, right? The Iceman?”

“One he is not particularly fond of, although he certainly fostered it.”

The stim unit emitted a soft beep, indicating that it had shut down.

“Have fifteen minutes passed already?” Miller sounded almost disappointed.

“I can set it for another fifteen minutes. It will be even more effective on the muscle knots.” She rose carefully from the creaky chair.

He hesitated a long moment before shaking his head. “I’m just wasting your time. Go work your magic on someone more appreciative.”

If she had someone else to work on, she wouldn’t care if they were appreciative or not. “Ms. Dreyer has paid for my time, so you should take advantage of it.”

“Ah, so tempting,” he said with that unsettling gleam in his eye. “But I must decline. Remove the pads.”

Once again he leaned forward so his neck was bared to her. As she bent to disconnect the electrical leads, she caught the scent of him, a slightly spicy, exotic fragrance from his hair that must be the shampoo he used, with an undercurrent of the body-warmed wool of his sweater. It was clean, masculine, and hazardous to her professional demeanor. She fumbled the wire, yanking on the pad that was attached to his neck. She stroked the pad in apology, hoping to soothe any hurt. “I’m so sorry.”

He took a deep breath. “Barely felt anything.” His voice held that strange tightness again.

She paused a moment and closed her eyes, forcing herself to focus on the job and not the man. Once she felt in control, she finished disconnecting the wires and began gently peeling the pads away from his skin. It shouldn’t hurt, but she still found herself brushing her fingertips over the soft skin as a sort of healing massage.

It was impossible to gauge his reaction, because he remained motionless until she had the pads and stim unit back in their case. “You can move now,” she said. “In fact, I’d like you to, so you can tell me how it feels.”

He tilted his head to one side and then the other. “It bends more easily.”

Pleasure glowed through her. “Think how much better it would be after a longer treatment.”

He held up his hand to stop her. “Jane thinks if I can get my muscles to release, my muse will come dancing out of hiding. But she has the cart and the horse in the wrong order. All your good work will be undone by tomorrow morning, because you can’t break through writer’s block with a clever little machine.” He stood and offered her a charmingly apologetic smile. “It’s been a delight to meet you, Allie. I’m the worst sort of patient, so count yourself fortunate that you don’t have to deal with me any further.”

Disappointment and a touch of panic stifled the glow inside her. She placed the stim unit case back in her duffel bag and zipped it closed. She straightened to look Gavin Miller right in his ocean green eyes. “Mr. Miller, it’s the worst patients who need help the most.”

He went still again, his expression turning somber. “You are a wise and determined woman, but you are overmatched here. I am far more pigheaded than you could ever be.” He picked up her duffel, hefting it with a pained look. “You’re also strong. What do you have in here . . . gold bricks?”

She gasped and reached for the handles. “You should not be lifting anything heavy with your back problems. Please give it to me.” Her fingers grazed his, so she felt their warmth as she tugged at the bag.

He resisted for a split second before relinquishing it to her and rubbing his shoulder. “My chivalrous impulses are few and far between for good reason.”

“You shouldn’t attempt any jousting or sword fighting, either,” Allie said, following him into the entrance hall. His snort of laughter gratified her, but it didn’t lift the sense of failure that made her feet feel like lead. The duffel was indeed heavy, and she didn’t look forward to hauling it the many blocks back to the subway in abject defeat.

Miller swung open a door concealed in the dark wood paneling to retrieve her coat from the closet. As he held it for her to slip her arms into, his fingers brushed the bare skin of her neck under her ponytail, making her hiss in a breath at the intimate contact. It was the same spot where she had laid the pads on his neck, and she wondered if he had felt even a shadow of the same sensations that were zinging through her body, leaving a trail of heat behind them.

She stepped away from him and turned to zip up her coat. Before she pulled on her leather gloves, she held out her hand. “I wish you the best of luck, Mr. Miller. Your books are terrific, and I look forward to the next one. After your fallow period, I bet it will be the best yet.”

Miller took her hand, his grip strong and warm. “From your lovely lips to God’s unresponsive ear,” he muttered. But then he smiled, and this time it reached his eyes, turning the stormy green to rich jade. “Perhaps your little shot of electricity has indeed penetrated my thick skull and reset my brain.”