She was a beautiful, engaging woman. There was no denying that. Objectively speaking, Emma Carson was gorgeous. But there was something far beyond her physical appeal that was almost indefinable. She had a glow, a quality that was so alive and vibrant . . . it drew people to her. I’d seen it happen time and again.
And I couldn’t deny that I was drawn to her, too.
For months now, since I’d been back in Florida, I’d done my best to ignore my feelings for Emma. It wasn’t easy. The whole time I’d been in Slovenia, I’d thought of her, dreamed of her, remembered the nights we’d shared . . . and then I’d come back to find her on the verge of being involved with Noah. Not that I blamed her; I’d done nothing but left her alone with only a rambling note and a vague promise to return.
But being near her, working with her, and knowing all the while that I couldn’t touch her the way I wanted to was damned frustrating. And now that we’d had that long talk on the night she came home from Virginia, my feelings were even more tangled. If she walked away from Noah, what did that mean for us? Was there even a chance that she’d trust me once more? I wasn’t sure about that.
One thing I couldn’t deny, though, was that what I felt for Emma Carson was far beyond anything I’d felt for any other woman—including Laurel, my ex-fiancée. The day I’d found Laurel giving our patient a blow job, I’d been angry and hurt, but that had been pride. Seeing Noah Spencer touch Emma’s back broke me in a way that Laurel’s indiscretion never had.
I knew that I might as well admit it to myself. I loved her. I had been in love with Emma Carson for a long time, and denying it to myself was ridiculous. Even if she never gave me another chance, my love wasn’t going to go away or change. The pull I felt for her was never going to ease, and even if I lived a hundred years, I’d still be in love with her.
As though she felt the direction of my thoughts, Emma turned her head to look at me. Her bright blue eyes held mine for a long moment, and I had the uncanny sense that she was connected to me, reading me, seeing me for everything I was and wasn’t. Fred was talking to her, pointing to something low on the wall in front of them, but Emma didn’t break our gaze. Her smile deepened just slightly, and then she sighed and gave her attention to the contractor once again.
My heart was thudding erratically against my ribcage. I was sorely tempted to stride across the room and take her hand in mine, just to be able to touch her in some way. Before I could do something stupid, though, my phone buzzed in my pocket. Pulling it out, I frowned at the screen.
Ted:Hey, son, long time, huh? Got a minute to call your old man? I have a question for you.
Scowling, I clicked off the phone and slid it back into my pocket. The last thing I needed right now was to hear from my loser of a father. It was rare that Ted reached out to me when he wasn’t in Florida, which made me wonder if he happened to be passing through now. I hoped that he didn’t call or text Gram and Pop. He was a constant source of disappointment to them both, and as I was fiercely protective of them, I hated when my father let them down yet again.
“Everything okay?” Emma and Fred had finished apparently. Fred had left, and Emma stood in front of me, a small frown between her eyebrows. “You look pissed off. Can’t be anything I’ve done, unless you have really strong feelings about music subscription services.”
Forcing a smile, I gave my head a shake. “No, nothing’s wrong. Just . . .” I heaved a breath. “Something annoying that has nothing to do with anything here.” I pushed all thoughts of Ted to the deep recesses of my mind. “What do you think about the plans we have here? Are you happy with Fred’s suggestions?”
Emma’s face lit up. “Oh, absolutely. I think it’s going to be a perfect place for patients to come to enjoy listening to their favorite music, to sing along as loud as they like . . .” She tilted her head to one side as though listening to a voice only she could hear. “Deacon, as I was talking to Fred, I had an idea. I’m not sure how you’ll like it, but . . . since Angela has gifted us with this amazing room, it occurred to me that we could conduct a study about the effective use of music therapy in the treatment of various forms of cancer. I know that Angela would be thrilled if her gift gave other people a chance she didn’t have. What do you think?”
Emma’s eyes were sparkling, and her cheeks were flushed with pleasure. She was never so animated or alive than when she was talking about helping others, I realized. It was her passion, her happy place.
I remembered a conversation that the two of us had had during her early months at the hospital, when I’d noted that she loved to take care of others and wondered who cared for Emma herself. At that moment, I’d known that I wanted to be the one to make her happy, to protect her, and to make sure she didn’t exhaust herself in the service she loved. I’d done a pretty piss-poor job of that in the long run.
Noah had had the same urge, I thought, but he didn’t know how to take care of Emma without smothering her. His idea of protection would impede her work and dim that light that shone so bright.
If I had another shot, I’d do it better this time. I’d give Emma the chance to grow, to shine, while I made sure she was nourished and loved, too. I wasn’t sure I’d ever have the opportunity to prove myself to her again . . . but if I did, I didn’t intend to waste it.
I realized suddenly that she was still waiting for my response. Slowly, I nodded, smiling. “I think that’s an amazing idea, Em. You should go for it.”
“Weshould go for it,” she corrected. “This is a project I want us to do together, Deacon. It’ll be so much more effective if the paper has your name connected to it, too.”
Laughing, I wagged my head. “All right, then. We should go for it.”
“Excellent!” She threw her arms around my neck and hugged me, her laughter like a song against my ear.
Out of instinct, I caught her to me, pulling tight. It had been a long time since I’d held her like this, and my body responded out of memory and want, tightening and thickening, urging me to touch Emma in ways that would have been wrong at this point.
She eased away from me, her smile a little less bright, as though she’d been having the same thoughts. “Sorry. I just . . . this was exactly what I needed today. It’s a force for the positive, you know?”
“Yeah, I get that.” I stepped backward, if only to keep Emma out of easy reach of my greedy hands. “Why don’t you put together the proposal, write the hypothesis, and then we can outline the process together?”
“I can do that.” Emma wrapped her arms around her waist, and I watched her chest rise and fall under the thin material of her dress. “I guess I’d better get back to work. I need to visit a few patients and update some plans.” She moved to the doorway. “Thanks, Deacon. I really appreciate everything you’ve done to make this possible.”
“Anything, Emma,” I murmured.
When she cocked her head, her forehead wrinkling, I cleared my throat and spoke again. “Uh, any time. No problem.”
As I watched her walk away, I realized that was true. I’d do anything for this woman. Anything, at any time.
I was in trouble.
6
