“What do you mean my Visa cannot be extended longer?” Gripping the bridge of my nose I stare at my office ceiling. White popcorn board sports a stain in the corner that predates me. The space is smaller than my pantry at home. I don’t care about the corner office but an upgrade from the closet would have been nice being the lead physician here.

“Sir, as I’ve told you. You simply stayed too long and to do so further jeopardizes your ability to come back to the United States for a set period of time.” The immigration officer on the phone talks in circles, but the gist of it is that my sponsor, Dr. Albert Conners died before he finished filing my sponsorship paperwork last year. It’s taken them this long with all the bureaucratic red tape to catch up to me. His protégé and my rival obviously didn’t bother to file my petition for residency. Of course it would be Dr. Nash’s screw up I have to fix. Good with kids and cancer research, but a total asshole to the rest of his colleagues here, especially me since I threaten his top spot.

A glance at my watch indicates I have to make afternoon rounds, but not before I envision strangling the immigration officer through the phone. She keeps giving me the run around, talking in circles and I think that maybe a part of her is enjoying the hassle this is causing me. I can stay, but I can’t stay, and no one, not even the immigration officer can give me a clear answer as to why or how to fix it except I need three copies of everything notorized. I’ve already spent fourty-five minutes dealing with this bullshit calling three different agencies within the US Department of Immigration and Naturalization to no avail. Apparently saving lives doesn’t rank high on good reasons to miss filing my visa extension or permanency for residency, but still.

The piles of unopened mail are stacked high on my desk along with what ifs that permeate my brain. I’m not terribly organized. I practically live and breathe working at the hospital. My house pretty much looks unlived in and I sometimes sleep on the reclining chair I moved here from the labor and delivery floor because it’s more comfortable than the futon this office came with.

Grasping at straws I say by way of explanation hoping this will buy me some time, “I’m half Canadian.”

“We were not aware of this, but regardless you might do better relocating to Toronto for the time being until the paperwork is properly filed.” Because I’m sure they’ll need triplicate fucking copies while I twiddle my thumbs up North. No thanks.

“I can’t just relocate to my mother’s country until this is fixed.” Her tone leaves me flabbergasted. I raise my voice hearing the patronizing breath she takes through the phone. Personally, I’d never been to Canada, not even for a medical conference, but I don’t tell her that. The vein in my forehead pulses. This is a problem of my own making, but I don’t want anyone, especially my patients to suffer.

“Then you’ll have to return to your country of origin.” Yeah, that is so not happening. Between the UN conveys that couldn’t deploy food and water to the refugees, there was nothing left of my dad’s hometown in Georgia since the military occupation well over a decade ago. My remaining relatives live on the coast of the Black Sea while mom and dad moved to London. No way in hell am I going back there. My work is here. My life is here. Just last week there had been an attack from a terrorist group at the capitol city airport.

“Ma’am, I am a doctor. I work at a children’s cancer center. My patients depend on me. There are stipulations for researchers and those in medical fields and engineering.” I know at least that much.

“As I have explained several times Mr. Lazare, you need to be on a plane out of American in less than fourty days in order to comply.”

“It’s Doctor Lazare. Doctor. Milo. Lazare.” I grit my teeth. This is obviously going nowhere. “My patients are getting experimental chemotherapy treatments. I can’t just leave America.” The throbbing vein is about to pop dealing with this paper pusher who is of little help to me.

“I’m sorry but those are the rules, Dr. Lazare. Fourty days. Contact me if you have further questions.” She lacks empathy scolding me with her smug shit eating grin I imagine through the phone. I bet this woman kicks puppies and steals candy from kids.

“Fine.” I roar disconnecting the call. I think of all my kids bravely battling the cancer ravaging their little bodies and I’m helpless to help them if I’m not here.

I swing my chair around looking out the equally small window in my office. A sea of cars from my ocean view of the parking lot sit below me. My steel grey BMW bike rests in my designated spot. I’d give anything to get outside and ride my baby right now taking it outside the city to open it up on the roads near the coast. The privilege of achieving materialistic comforts as opposed to the dirt floor hovel my dad grew up in isn’t lost on me. I don’t have anything left in Georgia to return to. Even going to my parents home in London isn’t a huge hardship, merely an inconvenience because it isn’t by choice. Life isn’t fair. I know this. My patients know this first hand, but I had hopes my banked karma would get me out of this mess.

Distraction made me miss the soft knocking. Another harder knock and I swing back facing the door.

“Come in.” I growl turning back to shuffle papers I should be reading and sorting so I can find the right ones to file the Visa extension.

“Bad time?” I look up and see my favorite patient’s aunt standing in the doorway. Correction, I’m not supposed to have favorites, but I do. This woman in front of me is one of the reasons why Maisy Roberts will grow up to be a spitfire because I’m determined to cure that little girl. I think she’s technically a family friend turned godmother, but you can see the love and devotion she has for the little girl and I admire that.

“Piper is it?” I try to remember the names of the supportive people in my patient’s lives, but it’s hard. I have so many and my focus is on them, not necessarily pretty relatives and friends. However, Piper is easy to remember. With an unusual name she is pretty damn hard to forget. Coming around the hall on my rounds one afternoon I was gifted to see Piper playing a game with Maisy in one of the therapy rooms. Her laughter and smile warmed me that day after delivering bad news to another patient. I took the good in this work when I could. Piper visits often, at least four or five times a week for hours at a time. Not that I paid much attention, or noticed the tiny lock of pink hair in her ponytail that matches Maisy’s.

Maisy’s mother, Diana mentioned once that Piper works at a gym and it shows. It’s hard to overlook her tight, lean muscular body under her workout clothes which seem to be the only thing I ever see her wearing on her visits. My hands could span her trim waist with ease though they would prefer getting tangled in her long dark hair. Clutching the edge of my desk, I dismiss those thoughts thankful for the metal frame in between us.

“Yes.” She doesn’t fully come into my office without looking in the hall first before shutting the door behind her leaving us alone. I sit up in my chair watching her. A floral scent tickles my nose pleasantly and kills the sterile hospital smell that usually lingers in here. I’m staring at her from head to toe taking in the loose top and skin tight pants that look painted on her body indecently while hot pink sneakers that look more suited to a twelve year old cover her tiny feet.

“What can I help you with? I’m about to do rounds shortly so I’ll be checking in on Maisy.”

I watch her shift from foot to foot and wring her hands in front of her. She’s never sought me out before and I’m curious.

“Uh, I was speaking with Diana, and uh…”

“Is Maisy alright?” I stand grabbing my charts. I flip through to hers and note the current chemo regimen we are using on her leukemia. That little girl is a heck of a fighter and I have a good feeling we will be able to get her into remission on this round.

She grabs my hand in hers. It feels familiar, right almost. God it’s so warm and distracting with her touching me. She’s the kind of woman that makes it hard to focus if I’m not careful.

“Maisy is fine. It’s just that Diana has this strange idea that you’re leaving before her treatment finishes.” Piper steps closer, and the movement shifts her ponytail letting me inhale her distinctive scent. Its honeysuckle and maybe lavender. Those bright yellow flowers that grow in bushes around my house. Annoying to cut back and once I do, I always regret getting rid of them when the smell doesn’t make it to my bedroom balcony. I have a feeling Piper isn’t going away either.

“Oh. That.” I brush it off. Amazing how quickly gossip travels in this place, and I put the charts down. I’ll have to speak to the charge nurse on the floor, nip this in the bud. There’s no need to worry anyone. According to the immigration officer I had fourty days to figure this out and I would, but I don’t tell her that.

“Diana said you could be deported and banned from returning because you’ve been here a while.” A worried expression wrinkles Piper’s face. “Can they do that? Legally?”

Exhaling a breath I step away raking my hands through my hair. It’s probably better than grabbing her and shaking her though I miss her contact no matter how brief.

“I honestly don’t know. I guess they can do whatever they want.” It’s part fear and one I hadn’t truly considered. These things didn’t happen, or at least they shouldn’t. I came here for medical school on a student visa filled with hopes and dreams. I hadn’t met the full residency requirement because I changed jobs due to funding and research opportunities never staying in one place long enough to file. Of course wanting to get ahead is costing me now that I am settled in one place.

“I’m sorry. I probably shouldn’t be asking you these questions.” Her ponytail sways over her shoulder, a swish of dark hair and a peekaboo lock of pink tempts my empty fingertips.

“No. You shouldn’t.” Annoyance fills my tone. She winces and I’m immediately sorry. Her beloved niece is sick, of course she’s worried. I don’t blame her for being concerned.

“How is it that you never became a citizen?”

She’s nosey too. This is the million dollar question I don’t have an answer for her.

“I guess I never considered it, but it doesn’t matter now. If they decide I have to leave, I will transfer Maisy’s case to Doctor Nash.”

“What? No!” Piper shouts, her face pink. Hey, I dislike the guy personally, but professionally he is a good doctor.

I’m also not used to anyone telling me no and it grates on my nerves. I’m responsible for a lot of people and have to exercise incredible control in stressful times. My patience is being sorely tested by this woman whose head barely reaches my chin.

“What do you mean no?”

“No, you can’t transfer her case.” She isn’t pleading, she’s demanding, pouting really. I take a gentle approach with my patients. It’s harder when its an adult I am grudgingly attracted too. She’d look good over my knee, few swats might change her tune and bring me some much needed peace. I decide keep that to myself. If anyone knew about my afterwork kink I bet that uptight immigration officer would send me packing.

Piper rushes me and clings to my coat invading my space. I don’t have the heart to untangle her when I’m drawn in by honeysuckle and her pliant body close to mine.

“Doctor Nash wants to take Maisy off your chemo cocktail, but it’s working. Nothing worked before, but this is. We need you, Maisy needs you.” Taken aback, this is the first I hear of Doctor Nash wanting to change treatment. I need to look into this. I need to trust he will make the best decision possible for my patient’s care in lieu of my potential absence I haven’t resigned myself too.

I take her hands in mine squeezing them gently hoping she doesn’t plan on jumping me in here behind closed doors even if the idea gets me hard.

“Look, nothing is happening yet. I’ll figure this out.” I’m not sure who I’m trying to reassure more, myself or Piper.

Her face turns upward, big brown eyes bore into mine reminding me of dark chocolate. The good kind from Belgium I tasted during my backpacking tour of Europe before medical school. Not too sweet or bitter, just smooth notes with a hint of caramel like the hint of pink hair she’s sporting. I love chocolate and I like Piper, but I push that aside with the reality that I don’t mix work with pleasure.

The space fills with a ballooning silence as if something epic is coming but I have no idea what.

“We can get married then.” A hopeful gleam in her eyes darts to mine and then the floor. I hadn’t anticipate that.

“I-I’m sorry what?” Piper manages to surprise me. I’m speechless. Shocked is one feeling, but my groin tightens looking at her before the brain shakes this off. It’s crazy. Like I said, I don’t mix work with relationships, just ask the score of unhappy nurses I turn down or the candystripper volunteers I’m old enough to parent.

She inclines closer breasts pressing into my chest which oddly doesn’t feel contrived. I’ve had a few women throw themselves at me over the years, but this isn’t one of those times. I can feel the bead of her taut nipples and pray my reptilian brain calms the fuck down. Her eyes plead and my mouth goes dryer than the best wine I’ve ever drank. Thinking of wine makes me question her age.

“Marry me.” She repeats steamrolling ahead. She’s serious and there’s that subtle demand in her voice. I don’t have an immediate comeback beside the obvious no because it shouldn’t be her asking. Call me old fashioned.

I’m stoic not touching her afraid I might do something I regret with her blatent offer. “No.” Visions of pushing her back against the desk and peeling her gym pants down her legs to bury myself deep within her cloud my judgement. Stupid brain. All I want to do is forget today ever happened and her she is tempting me with something I have no right to consider.

She doesn’t give up, my very own persistent overgrown honeysuckle bush stalks me around the office. “Marry me and stay.”

I back up. She follows and we continue this dance until I realize how ridiculous it is to be running from her in the enclosed space.

“Piper, no.” She’s making me angry or maybe I’m angry in general over all of this and the unexpected visit she’s graced me with.

“Look, I’m sorry this is a shitty a proposal but we need you here.” Piper trails around my desk slowly backing me up against the wall. She dips as if she’s going to get down on one knee. Her face fierce and wild.

“No, absolutely not.” I grab her hands and help her back up more roughly than I intend. She hisses and I pull away afraid I hurt her. “I’m sorry.”

“Coffee burn.” I see the bright red patch in the soft spot of her hand. A superficial burn.

“You need to be more careful Piper.” Our hands lock and I rub my thumb over the spot attempting to soothe it. I’m not having anyone, let alone this woman get on her knees for me. I do not need saving and if I want her on her knees it won’t be for this reason.

Hurt fills her expression and my chest burns knowing I caused it. She speaks softly, eyes half lidded and I lean in to hear her through the curve of her pouting lips. “I can get a ring? If you want?” She’s practically climbing me like a tree and I like it far far too much. I hold her back trying to gain some sanity so she can’t cajole or rub against me confusing me as if I have no control over myself.

“Piper, this is madness. No one is marrying anyone. No rings. No weddings.”

“Maisy and Diana are important to me.”

“They are important to me too.” She gives me a disbelieving look. Why does this woman make me want to argue and fight when I feel my most defeated this afternoon?

“We don’t even know each other,” I reason.

“It’s crazy. I know.” I’m glad she’s agreeing with me even if she’s pursuing this.

As doubtful as I am, her idea isn’t terrible. However, it’s not the course of action I want despite her pouty lips, dark as sin eyes and a body worth slamming against the wall so hard it jars my medical degree from its hooks.

“I doubt it would even work. The immigration officer seems pretty interested in getting me on a plane out of here.”

“So, we’ll call a lawyer and find out what can be done.”

Gently I step away. “It isn’t that easy.”

My body wants her, but I need space and time to think. I can’t deny the attraction. Its borderline inappropriate. No, it’s pretty damn inappropriate. I don’t want or need a martyred wife. Nor do I want my license revoked. She’s not a patient but it’s damn close.

Her face remains bright red and she looks down maybe embarrassed, but I can’t tell. “I get it.”

“Get what?” Her eyes gloss over and I expect tears.

“You not attracted to me, but that’s okay. This would have been a fake marriage anyway.” She clarifies confusing me even more. She wants to marry me, but not be with me? She thought I thought she wasn’t attractive? God my head hurt even more wrapping around that idea.

“A fake?” No. I had to question Piper’s sanity. My sanity. We were not doing this. Of course I am fascinated by her, but marriage? We didn’t know the first thing about each other. I sit down in my chair suddenly more tired than all my thirty eight years. I don’t even know how old she is.

Curiostiy begs the question, “How old are you?”

“Twenty-six.”

“Twelve years.” I mutter noting the age difference.

I doubt she heard me and continues, “Yeah you know, you do your thing, and I do mine, but Maisy gets cured. We could get divorced in a few years and maybe remain friends. You get to stay permanently in the states and we all live happily ever after.” She claps her hands, a big smile from ear to ear and wham bam problem solved, except it isn’t, not really.

Her words sit with me. It’s crazy talk in a desperate situation. How could I fake something like that with her? I look at her and realize how hard that would be. Her soft skin and light scent that follows her everywhere, even lingers in Maisy’s room when I’m there. Nothing about marriage to Piper could be fake. My body wants her far more than that even if my head and heart are at distinct odds.

“It’s not as simple as that.” I toss a pen on my desk thinking about how I’ll be forty in two years’ time and she won’t even be thirty.

“Sure it is.” Piper sits on my desk taunting me with the curve of her ass bubbling on the edge. She starts sorting the mail envelopes on my desk. For some unknown reason, I don’t mind her invasion of my privacy. Save for her shuffling and making quick work of the mess the office is quiet in a soothing way with her here. In under a minute everything is placed neatly in corresponding stacks I couldn’t have managed on my own.

“You need someone to come in here and clean.” We both look around the room assessing. Dust bunnies linger in corners from neglect. My bike helmet rests on the only other chair in the room with my jacket. Admittedly I’d rather be doing research than dusting. I couldn’t see myself in a cute little outfit and a duster, Piper however would look hot in one. She’s twenty-six for fucks sake. I shake the image out of my head but I know my home office could use a good cleaning.

She’s too young.

If she only knew what I was thinking.

There’s definitely a method to my madness, a chaos in my order. She’s right. I do need someone, someone who compliments my faults, someone who enjoys sorting mail… an idea comes to mind and before I can squash it, my mouth opens saying it going against all other thoughts I had in the span of five minutes.

I blame the honeysuckle.

That scent is like a drug and now I’m entertaining ideas I shouldn’t.

If there was a time to start drinking this might be it.

“If we’re going to do this Piper, it’s going to be for real. Not some fake marriage that gets me sent back doubly screwed.” Her eyes pop wide but I think she’s down with this as much as I am despite the hesitancy.

Maybe a little dusting outfit for our first anniversary.

What the hell am I thinking?

She steps back like she wants to run and I want to chase.

I definitely want to chase her.

“What do you mean real?” Her arms cross defensively giving me side eye. I’d been around the block enough to know that look.

Is she kidding me?

I get up and follow her until I’m the one leaning in close. Her loose workout shirt slips over her shoulder exposing skin that looks delicious bare. My fingers trail a path over the sharp jut of bone. I let my mouth hover next to her ear close enough that my tongue sneaks a taste of her lobe as I speak softly challenging her, throwing down the gauntlet.

“What I mean Piper is that you give up the sexy time.” I groan. Sexy time? Really? Usually, my English is flawless, but occasionally I say things I shouldn’t translating in my head no matter how long I’ve been here.

I clear my throat trying again. “We continue with marital relations.” Stopping while I’m ahead is a good idea, too bad I don’t follow it. Right now I don’t care how stupid I sound.

“Marital relations?” Her prominent eyebrows arch and I roll my eyes knowing how uncouth I sound. Maybe I should care how I sound? I might have actually blown this whole idea to hell and back before we said I do.

“Piper, I want you. I couldn’t live in the same space as you like a monk just waiting for a divorce.” My hips angle toward her testing her reaction. I don’t even believe in divorce but I don’t feel like having that fight when the rings haven’t been bought yet.

She pants leaning into me, her body melting against mine and I think I’m done for. Her hair shifts and kicks up that floral scent hardening my dick instantly. I grind into her as her small nails pinch the skin of my biceps. I like the sting of pain her hands bring against my body.

“D-dr. Lazare.”

“Milo. We’d be a heck of a lot more familiar than this.”

“D-dr. Milo.”

“Come on Piper, I can’t have my American wife telling tales that I don’t satisfy her–” I kiss the spot under her ear lobe letting my lips press gently teasing the skin, “every need in bed.”

She moans tilting her head back exposing the pale skin of her neck for my taking. I wonder if she will come from words alone. It’s an experiment I’d like to explore further another time as crazy as that sounds.

I nip her neck, my teeth grazing the skin. “Even my home country would repudiate me.” The room feels about twenty degrees warmer and I would love to toss my jacket to the floor and tug her shirt off her shoulder trapping her arms against her and out of my way so I can kiss and suck at her skin.

“You have a dirty mouth doctor.”

“You have no idea.” Pushing her back, her eyes widen, pupils dilate. She licks her lips and I think that maybe, just maybe she wants this as much as I do. I mean, why she would come here and offer herself up to me on a silver platter thinking this wouldn’t go anywhere sexually? I couldn’t marry a woman and do my own thing as she suggested. That would feel like cheating and I took marriage vows seriously.

Celibacy.

I snorted.

“You want my mouth all over you. Admit it. I can see your pulse beat under your collarbone.” I touch her skin lightly, it’s soft as I run a fingertip under the thin strap of her sports bra tugging on it. She shudders. I like the way she fills out her gym clothes with subtle curves.

“Milo.” I kiss everywhere but her mouth. I’m saving that for later when I have time to dive deeper.

“I wish I could strip you bare.”

“Right now? Why?” She squeaks.

“Because the pretty flush on your cheeks must cover your breasts under this shirt indicating a distinct change in blood flow to your more erogenous zones. Call me inquisitive.”

“You’re ridiculous.” Her breathy voice oozes desire.

I chuckle. “Who came to whose office with an outrageous idea to get married?”

“That’s unfair.”

“So would be denying the attraction we feel toward each other, no?” I ask.

“That’s blackmail.”

“Says the woman pimping out her body for medical treatment.” I cough and rephrase. “Figuratively speaking.”

She slaps my chest and I grab her hand playfully. “That is not what this is and you know it.” Her face flushes darker. It’s a huge turn on.

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” I’m only half sorry.

“I care about Maisy and Diana seems to think this is the only way to save her.”

“So it’s all Diana’s idea?” I tease.

“Yes. No. Stop trying to confuse me and give me an answer.”

Her lips press together and I want them open, apart and tasting my tongue. “I won’t do anything illegal.” I tell her, although the speed at which she arouses my body makes me reconsider every principal and oath I’ve ever taken.

“We have a lawyer friend, Natalie Croix. Diana works for her as a paralegal. I’ll ask her what we need to do to make this right.”

“Legal and real. We’ll probably have to stay married longer than a year to make sure.” I tap the end of her nose with my finger. She’s cute in a way I hadn’t thought of before, not my usual type if I had one.

“I want Maisy to be in remission.” She’s in my arms and I’m holding her close, close enough her scent makes me a little drunk, and her soft skin makes me woozy to go along with this crazy plan.

“Of course. Besides I can’t practice medicine from jail.”

She thinks about this.

“Right. I love Maisy, but I’d be a terrible Auntie from jail.”

I tip her chin up to look at me.

“I don’t think orange is a good color for you.”

“No? I don’t think it’s good for you either.” Her coy smile makes this troublesome to resist.

“No, not when you blush such a pretty shade of pink.” I tug that lock of hair that doesn’t match the rest and I swear she shivers.

Her hand covers her mouth as she speaks. “So we’re going to do this? For real?”

“For realsies.” I mimic my youngest patients’ words and her head bobs up and down looking anywhere but at me. I hope she’s not having second thoughts. I’ve already had a dozen, and then talked myself out of them. I’m out of options and I don’t bite the hand willing to offer me sustenance. Not yet anyway…