Cora Kenborn

Eight weeks ago, Johnny Malone showed up at my office, flipping a playing card between his fingers like I was wasting his time.Me. The one with the Ph.D.The one a self-confessed arsonist came to for help in controlling his "urges."The one he visits every week and undresses with his eyes.Lethal dark eyes that drown me in fiery lust and constant lies.But the deeper I sink the more those ethical lines blur, and his charm overshadows his inner demons.Ones with no family, no friends, and no past.Just a standing Tuesday appointment.He's hiding from something.Or someone?And I intend to find out.I've always had strict rules about men:No liars.No patients.No criminals.In one afternoon, I broke all three.They say you should never play with fire?Now I know why.

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