~E~

"It's getting to the point where I can't leave my house." The last word comes out as a choked sob, and my heart aches. My patient of three years now has been dealt a rough hand. Countless sessions of talk therapy have only helped her slightly; after having spent many months in a psych ward this past year.

"I feel as if I'm drowning, the depression's claws are digging in deeper and deeper." Connie curls into a ball on the couch in my office, her long arms wrapping around her thin frame.

"Have you seen Dr. Mello lately? What are you taking for meds?" I know she saw him last week, our notes are shared between each other, and she refused more medication. Went against his recommended advice.

"I did see him last week. He just wants to drug me." Connie rolls her eyes, letting out a huff of breath.

"Why do you feel that way? He's trying to help you."

Connie stands suddenly, her anger clearly visible in the clench of her fists. She begins pacing back and forth, another symptom of her depression. She's agitated easily; thinks the world is against her.

"Because, he's not helping me, is he, Dr. Russe? Or is he wanting to make more money off me? Here take this magical pill, Connie. You'll sleep forever but who cares?"

I move towards her, gently resting a hand on her shoulder, causing her to stop in place. Without words, I look at her, empathy shining in my eyes. My understanding, my caring—it's all there for her to see. Words don't work well, her father's abuse having caused deep damage.

Her head falls forward; long wavy hair cascading over her face. Her chest rises and falls with a sob, and I squeeze her shoulder. "I..." Connie tries to choke the words out but they fall short, stuck in her throat, her sobs taking over.

I guide her to sit on the couch, sinking down next to her. I rub her back while she cries. She needs to get this emotion out, this pain inside her. She'll never heal otherwise.

A knock sounds on the door; my body jumping at the sharp noise. Who could that be? I only get interrupted in emergencies, and a shot of anxiety courses through me hot and fast. I pat Connie's back and hurry to the door. A knock sounds again as I pull the door open an inch.

Faye smiles, her features strained. "I'm so sorry to interrupt, Emma," she blurts out, her voice shaky, "but there is a gentleman on the line insisting to speak to you. He wouldn't tell me any information. I tried to say you were with a patient but he wouldn't listen." Faye wipes her hand across her brow as she jiggles her legs nonstop.

I know how these patients can be and Faye usually gets the worst of it. I smile warmly, "Okay, tell him he has to wait. I'll be done with this appointment soon. Otherwise, I can call him back."

Faye nods as she turns to go, the chimes of the ringing phones calling her back. I close the door and turn to see Connie rocking back and forth, hiccups racking her body.

And the day has begun...

* * *

I'm shutting down my laptop; the pile of charts on my desk mocking me. Look how much work you have to bring home. How fun for you. I roll my eyes; shoving the charts into my bag. The work load never ends. Especially on a Tuesday night.

My stomach rumbles, and I picture my empty fridge at home. Takeout it is. I sling my bags over my shoulder, glancing around my office one last time before heading out.

Curt asked me to dinner, and so did Max. Both of them make my stomach curl. I politely turned them down, their messages flooding my phone all day. Curt is nice; he's a bit too nice for my taste. Slightly a mama's boy, he loves to brown nose and plays the role of charmer very well.

Max is bad news. I had a no contact order in place years ago, when he wouldn't leave me alone after our breakup. It was our sophomore year of college and we'd had a few fun months together. Until, he began getting possessive. Not letting me hang with friends, following me around campus. It only got worse until I had to break it off; his actions leaving me no choice.

I really hope he isn't back here to cause trouble. I have a lot more on the line now, with my business, than before.

I round the corner and slam into someone, their body as hard as a wall, causing me to lose my balance as I stumble backwards. My bags scatter to the floor, my purse spills its contents out on full display. The charts slide out, patients' records fluttering to the ground.

I gasp as a pair of strong hands grasp my waist, keeping me upright. What in the fuck just happened? Gulping down air, my hand flies to my mouth as I clutch my chest with my other, trying to still my racing heart.

"Are you okay?" Knox's deep voice rumbles through me, his hands still gripping my waist. I look up to see his face hovering inches above mine. My heart pounds erratically, my face flushes ten shades of crimson. So much for calming down. Real smooth, Em.

"I'm fine," I stammer out, taking another step backward. I need distance, space, from him, his presence is knocking me off kilter. Leaning against the wall, I close my eyes for a minute, still reeling from the near fall.

"Do you need help picking up your things?" Knox asks, and my eyes bounce around, taking in the mess around our feet. Fuck!

"It's okay," I say as I bend down, picking up the charts and papers first. Knox bends down as well as he grabs papers and hands them to me. He doesn't touch the items from my purse, his movements are almost shy. Aw, a gentleman? Maybe?

"Here let me straighten those." He takes the charts from my hands, pushing the papers neatly into the folders while I toss my crap back into my purse. My face flames red again as I notice the condoms and lube on the floor. Great, Em. All of your life on display...

I can't help but chuckle, the situation suddenly hilarious. Maybe it's the embarrassment or maybe it's the shit-eating grin he keeps tossing my way, but the giggles escape, shaking my whole body. Knox laughs, too, throwing me a wink.

"Condoms and lube, eh, doc?" Knox jokes, and I want to melt into the floor.

"Listen here, doc, always come prepared right?" Shocking myself, I wink back, a sudden streak of self-confidence blooming inside me.

Knox's eyebrows rise, his mouth slightly parting. He's panting and I look away, grinning to myself. Score one for me.

What? I shouldn't even be trying to score.

"Hmm, good advice, doc. Were you a girl scout back in the day?"

I laugh, shaking my head as I stand; my purse back together albeit rather messy. I hold out my hand for my other bag but Knox slings it over his shoulder, his own bag still rests on the floor. What is he doing?

"Have you eaten yet?" He asks me, as he throws his bag over mine, the weight not affecting him one bit. His eyes burn into mine, the heat palpable between us.

I shuffle my feet and look away, unable to hold his heated glare. My poor skin is only slightly cooled from the last heated flush. "No," I say, while fiddling with my purse.

"Want to grab something with me? I was about to head out for dinner." Knox waits for my answer, his sexy build moving closer.

What do I do, what do I do? I'd love to join him for dinner but it's... it's not a good idea. Fuck. He's staring at me and I need to give him an answer. I shift my gaze back towards him. My breathing picks up. A trickle of sweat runs down my back.

I'm lost. What do I say? My body and heart are screaming at me to go, while my mind says no. My mother flashes in my head, her finger wagging in my face. The number one rule is the most important and Knox breaks it.

His therapist brain is scrambling to analyze me; his eyes saying it all. I know exactly how it looks because I do it myself. Trying to see into someone's mind; trying to fix them.

I sigh longingly and before I change my mind I blurt, "No, I don't think that's a good idea." I look away before I fully see it. The way his face fell, the light dimming in his eyes. I crushed his excitement and guilt poured through me.

"Why not, doc?"

"Please, call me Emma." I say, still unable to meet his eyes. The doc nickname annoys me; he slid by with it a few times already.

"Okay, Emma. What's the harm in grabbing a bite to eat? A friendly meal?"

His emphasis on the word friendly is not lost on me. I know he means everything but; the electricity between us is too strong not to feel.

"Nothing. It's..." I trail off as a familiar male voice calls my name from behind Knox. He turns and that's when I see the owner of the voice near the lobby. Panic washes over me and I freeze.

Max. What in the hell is Max doing here?

~K~

Emma's entire body is frozen, and it doesn't take a genius to see she's fearful of this guy. Whoever he is.

"Emma? Emma! I'm glad you're still here! I've been trying to reach you all day." This buffoon rushes over, pulling Emma into a hug, as he steps between us. I clench my fists, biting my tongue. I want to rip him off her.

Stepping back, I place Emma's bag on the ground and adjust mine. I watch Emma, trying to figure her out. If she says yes to this guy after saying no to me... stop it, she isn't yours. You don't even want her to be yours.

Emma moves away, breaking the embrace. "Max. What are you doing here?" She asks, her voice wavering.

"I want to take you to dinner. I've been asking you all day but you don't answer my texts or calls."

Oh, so it's not just me. Hmm, then why does she seem frightened?

Emma puts another foot of distance between them, glancing at me, her look asking for help.

"Actually, we have plans for dinner tonight." I announce, moving next to Emma. "We were about to head out."

Max turns to face me, and if looks could kill, I'd be dead on the floor. The snarl drips off his face. I cross my arms, moving slightly in front of Emma. A protective instinct from out of nowhere has me guarding her with my body.

"And who are you?" He spits, baring his teeth.

Who in the fuck does this clown think he is?

"I'm her boyfriend, that's who." I spit back. Boyfriend? What the fuck? Couldn't think of anything better, Knox? Like maybe her brother?

I hear Emma inhale sharply behind me, my words striking her. She doesn't speak, though, her body still rooted firmly behind me.

"A boyfriend? She didn't mention you. In fact, I do recall her saying she wasn't seeing anyone." Max looks at Emma over my shoulder, his eyebrows raised in question.

"Well, we only made things official today, if you must know. Hence, the dinner."

Max shakes his head, a creepy smile crossing his lips. Who is this character? I'm ready to deck him; my fingers curling into fists, opening and closing over and over again. I mentally count to ten, trying to hold my temper in. My mother taught me that trick back when I was younger and my anger sometimes got the best of me. "Oh, my sweet, Knox,” she used to say while combing my hair, "One day that temper of yours is going to get you in trouble. Learn to control it, my love." It's gotten me in trouble before. Big trouble. Which actually led me to where I am now.

Emma breaks the silence, her voice barely more than a whisper, "Max, I never confirmed with you. I have plans with Knox. I'll call you this weekend, okay?" She moves next to me, her smile sweet.

Max holds his hands up in surrender. "Okay, fine. I'll go. This time. Next time, you're mine, boyfriend or no boyfriend." With that he spins on his heels, leaving as quickly as he came.

I turn and face her, her smooth complexion now blotchy and red. She blinks back tears, her hand running over her mouth and neck mindlessly.

"Are you okay?" I ask. I want more than anything to pull her against me and hold her. She's shaken and it's not sitting well with me.

Emma nods, her brown hair falling to her face. She pushes it back behind her ears as she smooths down her skirt and takes a deep breath. "Thanks for your help, Knox. I appreciate it." She twists her fingers together, glancing at the door.

"You're upset. Let me take you home." I pick up her bag once again, throwing it over my shoulder.

She shakes her head, her eyes sad. "I'll be all right. I've dealt with him before."

"Can I walk you to your car at least?" Hope fills my voice. Jesus, what's wrong with you, man? You’re like putty in this woman's hands.

"Sure, I'd like that."

I wave my hand in front of me, gesturing for her to lead. I follow behind, my eyes falling to her ass. It sways perfectly in tune with her hips and I crave to touch it, grab it.

"Goodnight, guys!" Ally, the evening receptionist, calls.

Emma waves goodnight, as do I. We weave through the lobby, a few patients waiting, before we exit the office, out into the warm evening.

I feel my shirt stick to me as soon as the hot, muggy air hits us. Emma hurries to her car, and I quicken my pace to keep up with her. The heavy bags pull on my shoulder but I ignore it, my eyes focused on her.

We reach her car, and her finger is already pressing the fob button to unlock the doors. The car beeps and the light flashes. Before she can, I open her door and she turns towards me. Her eyelids flutter softly and my fingers twitch as they ache to touch her. Our eyes lock, the sparks bouncing between us. This woman— what is she doing to me? Why does my body react this way?

My mind flashes back to Sharon and I break the eye contact; the moment gone. I need to ignore this... this connection. It's dangerous. Love is dangerous.

"Well, thanks for everything." Emma says. My eyes find their way back to her, her own eyes never leaving my face.

I nod, unable to form any words. I'm afraid of what I'll say. Kiss me... come home with me...

"See you tomorrow?" Emma asks, and I nod again. I scramble for something, anything to say, but I'm blank, my mind erased.

She slides into her car, her purse discarded next to her on the empty seat. I hand her her bag as I force myself to look away from her long, sexy legs I so desperately want to touch. She takes the bag and our fingers brush. I jump at the contact and so does she, as we both look away.

I step back and shut her door as she fires up the engine. She rolls the window down half way, her face lit up from her smile. Her hair flies around her face, frizzy and unruly, no longer hanging straight. The humidity is thick and it swirls between us. My own skin feels clammy and I'm not sure if it's the weather or her.

I'm pretty sure it's her. Damn, Knox, speak already.

My phone buzzes in my pocket and my stomach twirls. Ethan. He's been calling all day. I'm not going to be able to ignore him much longer.

"Have a good night, Emma." I wave at her as her smile grows.

"Oh, now, he speaks. Okay, there, doc?"

I chuckle and rub my hand against my jaw. The stubble burns my fingers. "Call me Knox. First name basis now, right? I can't help I'm transfixed by your beauty. Go out with me." I pause as it dawns on me I'm rambling.

Shit, man! What are you doing? See, you open your mouth and spew stupid shit. Why in the fuck did you just ask her out?

"I don't know, Knox. It's just... we work together... you know..." Emma trails off. She looks down at her lap as her fingers intertwine over and over again.

I lean down towards the window. My face inches from her, her scent invades my senses. "I don't know why Emma, but there's this pull between us. I know you must feel it." Emma inhales sharply and her body tenses. "I'm doing my damned best to ignore it, but I don't know how much longer I can."

She turns her head towards mine. Her eyes caress my face as she looks me over. She stops and studies my lips, her own lips parting slightly. My eyes drop down to her chest. It rises and falls with her dip of cleavage soft, and supple. It takes all my restraint not to bury my face in her neck.

"We have to ignore it." Emma whispers and I step back. The words sting. I don't know why they do but they do. I shouldn't care. I should be happy she said no. Women are trouble. More trouble than they're worth. Why am I even asking her? Giving her the chance to reject me, turn me down? Making me look like the desperate fool?

I shrug. "Yeah, you're right. Forget I said anything."

I give her a final wave and turn. I jog to my truck. My brain is scrambled. I don't even know what the hell I'm doing when I turn around and watch her drive away. A strong desire comes over me to run after her. I know she feels it. What am I doing anyway? I can't have her. I won't date anyone again. My ex changed me. And, that's the sad truth.

* * *

The aroma of my mother's coffee seeps into my nose and I close my eyes. All I want is to de-stress. The past couple of weeks have been exhausting as I brought all my patients over to the new practice and also began seeing new ones. The long hours of appointments, paperwork, it's catching up to me. Don't forget avoiding Emma. Or is it more like failing to avoid her?

I can't get her out of my head. My mind races with thoughts of her. On my way to work: wondering what she'll be wearing, or if I'll see her. In between patients: I dart looks around, hopeful, optimistic. A glimpse of her is all I need. At night: I keep myself busy with my patient charts or TV, but my mind circles back to her. On repeat.

It's like a sickness. It's taken me over. I try hard to ignore it, push it away, but it creeps back in. Without realizing it, I'm thinking of her, watching for her to pass me in the hallway, or to be in the break room at the same time.

I need to stop. My brain screams at me, brings those memories back full force, the ones about how love can fuck you sideways. So why can't I stop?

Why is Emma such sweet temptation?

"Knox? Knox?! Earth to Knox!!" My mother snaps her fingers in my face. I glance up and she's staring at me, studying my face. Hmm, I wonder where I get my overly analytical brain from.

"Sorry, ma. I've got a lot on my mind." I take a sip of my coffee. The warm liquid soothes me. My mom makes a good pot of joe.

Her hand covers mine and she squeezes gently. "I know, but God only gives us what we can handle."

I sip more of my coffee, the hints of vanilla and caramel are delicious. She's been telling me that since I was a kid. Who knows if I believe it anymore. Why do some people get dealt horrible hands? While others have much easier lives?

Growing up, I believed it to be fate. In God's hands. But now, I don't know. Things are too unfair in life. And, love isn't everything it's cracked up to be.

"Dating anyone?" My mom smiles at me over her coffee cup. She keeps telling me I'm ready.

I shake my head and her face doesn't waver, her smile still warm. "No. I haven't had much time." Emma's face pops into my mind. I do have time. Enough time to spend all of my waking thoughts on her. We haven't spoken since the night I walked her to her car.

"What's with the dazed look on your face? That look right there is a woman's work." She points to my face with her spoon, before she dips it back in her coffee. My mother loves to dunk cookies while she drinks her coffee, then she scoops all of the crumbs out with a spoon.

I finish off my coffee and I stand to get more. I don't feel like commenting on her observation, so I avoid it. I want more coffee, anyway. The coffee pot is half full, the aroma strong. I add a couple spoonfuls of sugar, pour the coffee in, and grab the creamer. I pour some in as I stir, the liquid now light brown. I take a sip and groan. Nothing beats coffee. The cookies on the plate look scrumptious and I grab a couple on my way back to the island. My mother's eyes follow me the entire time. She studies me while I dip my cookie in my coffee.

"What's her name?" She asks and I freeze, my cookie halfway to my mouth. Crumbs fall into my coffee and float to the top.

"Whose name, ma? I told you there isn't a girl."

"You're not telling me the whole truth, Knox. I've been able to read you like a book since the day you popped out of me. Don't tell me I can't read your body language. Your dazing off, your body movements slower, less hurried. Only one thing makes you distracted and that's a damn woman. So spill it."

I laugh. You knew you weren't going to be able to hide it from her. "Fine." I hold my hands up in surrender. "But, we aren't dating. I'm telling you the truth. She's a coworker, is all."

"A coworker?" My mother's reaction doesn't surprise me. She knows I don't like to mix business with pleasure ever since... well, never mind. She's not important anymore and I push her image away.

"Yeah." That's all I can manage as I sip more of my coffee. What else is there to say?

"You really like her, huh? I haven't seen you this way in a long time."

My eyes meet hers, a reflection of my own. Both of us have deep brown eyes with small hints of gold flecks in them. "Yep," I sigh, my body deflated. "The crazy part is I barely know her. But there's this... I don't know, I can't explain it."

"A connection? Something that keeps bringing you back to her?"

I nod. Ginny Rothwell, always the best mind reader in town. "You got it. I try to ignore it. I'm not ready yet, anyway." I shrug and pop the last of the cookie in my mouth.

Not being ready is something I tell my mother. I'll never be ready. But, she doesn't need to know that.

"Oh, Knox, Sharon was so long ago. I'm sure you're ready now. You're just afraid."

"I'm not afraid." I state. There's no way I'm afraid. I don't have time for the drama, the commitment that comes with a relationship. I like being single, carefree, with girls at my beck and call if need be. Why complicate things?

Because your bed is lonely every night. Because you constantly think of a woman's body wrapped around yours, finding comfort and peace with each other. Because you want her. Dr. Emma Russe.

"Then, tell me, what is it?"

I shrug as I look away. It's hard to lie to someone you love when you look them dead in the face. "I can't complicate my life right now. Besides, I'm fine. I'm enjoying being alone."

I risk a glance at her as she studies me intensely. I go to open my mouth when the kitchen door slams behind us. We both startle and look to see Ethan stumble his way in. My stomach clenches and my mother grips her coffee cup.

Ethan sees us sitting together and his face lights up. "Hello, family!" He sings. He moves closer, his eyes bloodshot as his hands shake. I close my eyes and look away. He's high. The classic signs are all there.

"Knox!" Ethan shouts. He slides up next to me as he wraps his arm around my shoulder. He leans in close, the scent of stale cigarettes and alcohol dripping off him. "I've tried calling you all week. Glad I caught you here."

I give him a fake smile and move to stand. Ethan loves to be in your face when he's high. My mother's worried eyes search mine as they plead for help.

I gesture to my now empty seat. "Sit down, Ethan. How about a cup of coffee?"

Ethan's eyes dart around. "I... I can't stay long. My ride is waiting outside."

"What ride?" Our mother asks, her voice laced with concern.

"A buddy, Mom. It's no big deal." Ethan doesn't sit but grabs several cookies. He shoves one in his mouth and the rest in various pockets on his jeans and in his jacket. He moves around the kitchen as if in search for something.

A loud knock sounds on the door and my mother jumps.

"I'll get it," I say as I hear a loud voice call from the door.

"Police, open up!" Shit, why are the police here? I turn back to my mother as she cries out. Ethan runs out the back door and I follow, hot on his trail. I hear the police barge through the door, their loud voices carrying through the house.

"Back here!" I yell over my shoulder as I run to catch him. What in the fuck has he gotten himself into now?

I pass into the neighbor's yard after I hop the short fence. "Ethan! Wait up!" I yell but it's no use. Ethan jumps into his friend's car and it takes off, a trail of dust left in its wake. Police cruisers speed by, their sirens screaming into the warm afternoon air.

I stop as I lean over the neighbor's fence. My breath comes out in spurts; my heart racing. An officer comes up behind me, my mother not far behind.

And there goes my quiet Saturday afternoon.