Reese was forty-five minutes early for her nine o’clock appointment with Paul Malloy, but it gave her time to do some billing and set a pot of coffee to brew. Boy was she glad she got there early. When she opened her office door, it was only then she remembered she had left her desk in shambles on Friday. She couldn’t believe she had left the file on Asshole Andrew on her desk, exposed for anyone to find. Of course no one was ever there unless she had a client, but still, it was very careless of her.

She shuffled all the loose paperwork into the manila file and put it in the locked cabinet which served as her little kitchenette. It was nothing more than a microwave, mini-fridge, coffee pot and assorted utensils and paper dishware.

She put on a pot of coffee and set about organizing her desk. Can’t be coaching the art of organization when she was a perpetual mess, now could she? But she functioned better in chaos. If she put something away, it was forgotten, so it stayed in sight until she was done with it, or until the next client showed. Then all stray pieces of paper got dumped into the desk drawer. The big drawer to the right, not the little pencil one in the front. God forbid any of her clients looked in that drawer. They’d probably think she was a hypocrite and leave.

Promptly at nine o’clock the outer office door chimed and the coffee pot burped its last gurgle. All thoughts of Gregory, Luke, the messy desk, and anxiety attacks blew from her mind like dust in a breeze. She put on her coaching attitude and became professional.

Reese opened her office door a second after there was a tap. Holy God, keep your composure, she told herself. Paul Malloy was divinely handsome. She was secretly attracted to bad boy types, but this was no bad boy. He was all business in his crisp white shirt and black pinstripe suit. His skin was tanned like he had been somewhere tropical recently and his thick black hair was stylishly cut. His sparkling blue eyes were the only indication he had any Scandinavian or UK heritage.

“Miss Caldwell?” He extended a hand and took a step toward her. She felt swoonish like she did all those years ago when Wayne had extended an elbow to her. She should have stepped back and let him in, but she couldn’t move. She felt transfixed.

“Do I have the wrong office?” He said, lowering his hand.

Embarrassed, she lifted her hand for the return shake to find the air empty. “I’m sorry, Mr. Malloy. Yes, I’m Reese Caldwell.”

He smiled and she thought she might surely buckle at her knees. For God sakes, she was being pathetic. She smiled and they shook. She felt red hot flames course through her arm as their flesh touched. He looked at her quizzically as if he had felt the same thing.

“Won’t you come in,” she said and stepped to the side, grateful to release his hand.

He entered the room, scanning the space quickly.

“Can I get you a cup of coffee, Mr. Malloy?” She added a cup of tea to the offer. He seemed like a tea drinking kind of guy.

“Please, call me Paul, “ he said, again scanning the room as if he was looking for something.

Reese directed him to the area in front of her kitchenette where she had two brown leather barrel chairs around a small round glass table.

“Thank you. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but I am quite short for time. Can we get started, Miss Caldwell?” That was the second time he called her Miss, not Ms. or Mrs. How did he know she was a Miss?

“Certainly. And you can call me Reese. I have some intake paperwork for you to fill out,” she said as she took the prepared clipboard from the file cabinet top next to the coffee pot. “Can I get you a cup of tea while you complete this?” She handed him the clipboard and he sat in one of the chairs. He flipped through the four pages and then he looked at his watch. Wasn’t she the one accommodating his schedule?

He looked up at her and gave an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude. I just have a boat to catch and I’m nervous I’ll miss it. I would love a cup of tea.” Before she could ask, he said, “one sugar and a drop of milk.” Reese didn’t ask what type of tea he wanted. A man who was all business would want black-leaf tea while conducting business. At the end of the day, he might like a green-leaf or flavored, non-caffeinated tea, perhaps sharing a pot with his wife. Did he have a wife? A girlfriend? A lover? Surely he did. He was probably blissfully in love with her and doted on her and brought her the tea.

Really, Reese? Knock it off, she demanded of herself. She prepared the tea and fixed a cup of coffee for herself. She placed his at the round glass table and brought hers to her desk where she did an Internet search on him while he quickly moved through the paperwork. She found his website and saw he was indeed getting onto a boat. He was doing a cruise where he was the guest of honor. He was doing a gallery reading every night and had a private readings scheduled for the morning hours. She was about to click on his profile page when he said, “Reese, I’m all set with these.”

She x’d out of his website and hoped she wasn’t blushing. She took the clipboard from Paul Malloy and did a cursory look through them, mostly to make sure he signed the disclosure that she was not a therapist and any sessions were not to be construed as therapy although coaching was by nature therapeutic and all that mumbo-jumbo. His scrawled signature was on the line.

“Very good,” Reese said and sat in the other chair. She would read the paperwork in more detail later, but for now, she wanted to get some verbal information from him.

“Paul, what is your initial reaction to me asking you what factor made you look for a life coach?” Benign enough question, but the answer could hold a lot of valuable information.

He hesitated like most new clients who wanted to say, “well my life sucks and I don’t like where it’s heading, so I put on the brakes and said it’s time for a change but I’m scared as shit to rock the boat.” He still didn’t answer even after she gave him a minute to say what was on his mind.

She gave him and encouraging smile and said, “first thing that comes to your mind. Don’t think about it.”

He looked away from Reese for a few seconds and then back to her. “Miss Caldwell, I didn’t come here because I need a life coach. I came here because I think you might be in trouble.”

The smile slipped away from Reese’s mouth. She felt conned. She felt used. Why the ruse?

“What kind of trouble?” She asked despite the urge to tell Paul Malloy to get his psychic ass out of her office.

“I don’t know really.”

“Have we met before?” She asked, suddenly feeling as if she should know the handsome man in front of her.

“Not to my knowledge.” He looked at his well-manicured fingernails and Reese looked too, noticing his left index fingernail was chewed done to a raw red stub.

“Then how do you know I am in trouble?”

“First, I’m not wholly sure you are in trouble and second, I don’t know if you know who I am …”

“World renowned psychic medium?” Reese interrupted.

“You didn’t say anything on the phone yesterday,” he said.

“Neither did you.”

He looked at Reese as if he wanted to read her on a psychic level. She immediately imagined an invisible shield going up and around her. Not that she believed in psychic powers, but she could never be too safe.

“True, but in my defense, when people find out who I am they either call me a hoax or beg me to do a reading for them.”

“Well in my defense, I don’t much care if you are a hoax, and I won’t be asking for a reading. I would however like to know why you felt the need to trick me."

“Understandable, but I couldn’t be sure if you would meet with me.”

“Well you’re here now. Why don’t you explain to me why you think I might be in some kind of trouble.” Did she really want to know what this guy was all worried about? What if he foresaw her death or something?

“It’s hard to explain.”

Reese mirrored his earlier action and looked at her black leather wristwatch which glowed in the dark when she pressed the button. Sometimes a vigilante needed to know the time even in the dark.

She looked back at Paul and he smirked at her. She smirked back with a one sided grin. “If I’m not here on a Sunday morning with a paying client, I’d rather not be here.”

“I am happy to pay your going rate.” He still had that damned sexy grin on his face.

Reese didn’t answer. She expected him to pay her unless of course he really did have information which might keep her out of harm’s way.

He waited a few beats and then said, ‘What is your going rate anyway?”

Reese had tried giving him the rates yesterday over the phone but he had dismissed the information as if money meant nothing to him. She should have been more weary at that point.

“Hundred and twenty for a fifty minute session, “ she sighed.

He whistled and said, “that’s more than I charge.”

“I’m sure I feel a joke at your expense lurking in my head, but I’ll try to contain myself.” She was getting pissed now. She genuinely helped people in life and he had the audacity to belittle her fees.

“So you’re not a believer?” He said, leaning forward to prop his elbows on his knees. He nestled his chin in his bent knuckles and gleamed a white smile at her.

“A believer? As in all that ghost hocus-pocus? Is that how you got the information I might be in trouble? From a ghost?” Good lord, was she quoting her dead brother? If only poor Paul Malloy knew.

Paul cocked his head, eying her. Probably still trying to tap into her psychic waves or something. “Did you know you have a spirit following you around?” He didn’t blink once. He was waiting to see her reaction.

How the hell did he do that? Reese wondered. Was Luke in the room and she couldn’t see him? She felt violated and wanted to scream at Luke to run and hide. Luke was her secret and her secret alone. She didn’t want to share him with anyone.

“By the look on your face, can I assume you know about the spirit?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about. You are the ghost specialist. Why don’t you tell me why he thinks I’m in trouble?” Reese was terrified Paul Malloy would take Luke away from her. She wanted to scream at Luke. Didn’t he like the arrangement they had? No one knew about Luke. Was he trying to get to the other side and was too afraid to tell her? Did he ask this guy to tell her? No that couldn’t be. Luke tried to keep her from meeting Paul Malloy. Didn’t he?

“He?” Paul looked baffled. “The spirit following you is female.”