Picture Of Perfection. Kristin Gabriel

last, Gillian put the charcoal pencil down and straightened her legs, wincing at the ache in her stiff knees. She’d been sitting in one place for too long and now her right foot was asleep. She paced the floor, trying to get rid of the pins and needles sensation flooding her foot.

      Then she turned back to the bed and stared at the sketch of Carter Phillips. He stared back at her, looking so honest and handsome that she wanted to cry.

      Her anger had faded and the desire to crumple up the sketch of Carter and toss him into the trash no longer burned inside of her.

      She closed the sketch pad, then set it on her desk. After so many years of therapy, she knew her overreaction to his motives for buying the portrait was a symptom of a deeper problem. The nightmares were starting to take a toll on every aspect of her life. She couldn’t prepare for a gallery showing with the lack of sleep she was experiencing. That wouldn’t be fair to her or to Jon.

      She’d tried sleeping pills in the past, hoping they’d prevent the nightmares or, at the very least, stop the debilitating aftereffects. But the pills only seemed to make things worse. The tranquilizing effect had made it harder for her to waken from the nightmare and left her shaky and dizzy.

      Gillian opened the center drawer of the desk and pulled out a slip of paper with a phone number on it. Her best friend had given her the name of a respected hypnotherapist over a week ago, but she’d been putting off making the call.

      She stared at the telephone on her desk, wondering if she’d be strong enough to let someone take her back into the past. The nightmares were already painful, but this time she’d be volunteering to relive the heat of the fire, the smoke-filled air, and the panic-stricken terror that had engulfed her that horrible night.

      Taking a deep breath, Gillian picked up the receiver and dialed the number.