Mirin, Christelle - Emma's Heart (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)
Emma’s Heart
With approval from her cardiologist, Dr. Joseph Reese, Emma Shane is finally well enough for sex after her heart transplant. On a walk in the park, she meets Logan Walker. There’s something about him that is so familiar, but she just can’t place where she’s met him before.
Logan has lived alone since his lover fell down the fire escape and died from head injuries. There’s something about Emma that strikes a chord in him, and he’s drawn to her.
The doc tells Emma about cellular memory, memories from the transplanted organ. Whose heart has Emma received? Could that be the connection?
Logan, the doc, and an old friend, Clay Archer, help her through some startling realizations. They also test her to see how much her heart can take—and how much she can love. Surprisingly, Emma has room in her strong, steady heart to love all three of them.
Genre: Contemporary, Ménage a Trois/Quatre
Length: 22,534 words
EMMA’S HEART
Christelle Mirin
MENAGE AMOUR
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Ménage Amour
EMMA’S HEART
Copyright © 2012 by Christelle Mirin
E-book ISBN: 1-61926-351-3
First E-book Publication: February 2012
Cover design by Jinger Heaston
All cover art and logo copyright © 2012 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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EMMA’S HEART
CHRISTELLE MIRIN
Copyright © 2012
Chapter One
“I would say you are now healthy enough for sex as long as you don’t get too wild,” Dr. Reese said, raising an eyebrow.
Emma Shane laughed long and hard, feeling it all the way to her belly. “And just who am I going to have sex with, huh? You know George left me right before the transplant. I haven’t even thought about meeting someone else. All I’ve had time to think about is my health and getting my life back.”
Dr. Reese closed the file and crossed his arms over his chest. He leaned his hip against the exam table. “You’ll find someone, Emma.”
Concern was evident in his eyes, along with a friendship that had grown over time. But a friendship was all it was, nothing more. Besides, even though the doc was a looker, he’d never shown an interest in taking the doctor-patient relationship any further. Meeting another man held no interest for her right now either. All she cared about was her health and living just a little longer.
Dr. Reese sighed and patted her shoulder. “Well, Emma, if you weren’t my patient, I’d do you. You know that, right?”
Emma laughed even harder this time. “You do make me feel good,” she said, once she caught her breath. “And you don’t even have to do me.”
It was Dr. Reese’s turn to laugh. “Okay, get out of here. I don’t want to see you for three months. Unless you have problems”—he pointed at her—“don’t call me.”
“I won’t, Doc.” She jumped off the exam table and slipped off the gown the nurse had given her.
“Put some clothes on, Emma. You’ll give my nurses a fit if you run around in just your undies.” Doc gave her a stern look then laughed. “Make your appointment before you leave. Don’t make me call you.”
“All right, all right,” she said, stepping into her jeans. “Stop your nagging. You might as well be the husband I’ll never have, I guess.”
Doc hesitated at the door. “If you ever need someone just to talk to, call me.”
Buttoning the waistband of her jeans, Emma sobered. “I will. And thanks.”
Doc smiled. Then he turned and left, closing the door behind him.
Shrugging on the white button-down blouse, which always made her feel like she should be working in an office somewhere, a thought struck her. She’d forgotten to ask the doc about the other things. Shirt still hanging partially open and half unbuttoned, she quickly opened the door to the exam room and stepped out into the hall. He was already gone, probably in another room with another patient. Ah well, she thought, moving back inside the room and closing the door. It wasn’t really that important.
Finally getting her shirt buttoned and tucked into her jeans, Emma grabbed her jean jacket and headed for the nurse’s desk.
The nurse was waiting for her. “Here you are, Ms. Shane. We’ll see you again at the end of August.” She handed her a small appointment reminder card. “If you have any problems before then, be sure to give us a call. Of course, you know the procedure about getting your labs done the week before the appointment, right?”
“That I do,” Emma said, shoving the little white card with her next appointment written on it into her wallet. “I swear you people aren’t happy unless you’re sticking me with needles or running some weird tests.” She shoved her wallet back into her purse and grinned at the nurse.
“And if you don’t be good, we’ll be poking you with even more needles.” She smiled at her and waved her off. “Go enjoy what’s left of the day, Ms. Shane. It’s gorgeous outside.”
“That it is. I may even take a walk by t
he lake.” She gave her a wave and headed in the direction of the elevators. A walk by the water might be nice. Then maybe stop and grab a glass of wine somewhere. Well, wine was a thought anyway. She wasn’t allowed alcohol yet. Wait, the doc had said she could have one glass once in a while. No overdoing it. With a punch of the down button, Emma was looking forward to really starting to live her life again. The doc had said she was ready for sex, but what the doc didn’t know was how wild sex needed to be for her. She wondered if she should have told him about what her sex life was like before the transplant. Smiling, she could picture the look on his face if she told him just how much she liked the cold steel of handcuffs against the sensitive skin of her wrists.
Twenty minutes later, she pulled into Edgewater Park and drove to a parking spot that was closest to the water before pulling in. She was going for a walk, but there was no sense in pushing it too far. Shutting the engine off, she slid out of the driver’s seat and closed the door, locking the car behind her. Keys in her pocket, she slid her purse up onto her shoulder, shoved her hands in the pockets of her coat, and began to walk.
The water was a blue-gray, matching the sky. There was a light breeze kissing the waves, and every so often she’d catch a glimpse of the foam of a white cap.
Emma continued along the path, listening to the seagulls screeching, letting the runners pass her as she ambled along, just enjoying being outside without a mask on her face.
A young man sat on a bench up ahead, hands in his lap, gazing out at the water. As Emma approached, she noticed the man looked a little lost. Emma stopped beside the bench. “Nice day, huh?”
The young man sat completely still then suddenly shivered. It seemed to shake him out of his daze. “What? I’m sorry. Did you ask me something?” He looked up at Emma with the bluest eyes she’d ever seen.
“Are you okay?” Emma asked, placing her hand on the back of the bench.
“I’m fine,” he replied, a sort of sad smile forming on his lips. “Just a bit out of it, that’s all.”
“Mind if I sit down? Looks like you have a pretty nice view here.” Emma lifted her hand toward the lake.
“I don’t mind.” The man scooted farther down the bench, giving her room. Then he turned his gaze back to the water and leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped between them.
Emma sat down and draped one arm along the back of the bench, crossing one knee over the opposite knee. She drew in a deep breath, catching the scent of the water, which always managed to smell a little fishy. She glanced at the man beside her.
Young, maybe late twenties, with beautiful blue eyes the color of the ocean, much bluer than the water of Lake Erie. He had dark-blond hair, slightly wavy, ruffled by the breeze as it grazed the crisp white collar of his shirt. His clothing was odd for someone sitting on a park bench on a Thursday afternoon. He wore black pin-striped suit pants, a jacket to match slung over the bench back behind him, and shiny black shoes that looked like they cost the full amount of one of Emma’s paychecks after taxes.
What was this guy doing here? What was his story? And why in the world did he look so damn familiar?
He certainly didn’t dress like the people Emma knew. All of Emma’s friends and coworkers wore jeans, work boots, and hard hats. Well, that was when she did work. Emma hadn’t worked in well over a year. Thinking about it now sort of depressed her. She enjoyed her work and missed it at times like this. She loved inspecting new construction, being a part of building something fresh and new. She sighed and looked out over the water. The breeze was kicking up stronger now, threatening to turn itself into an outright wind.
Emma bent her arm that had been resting on the back of the bench, keeping her elbow propped on it, and took her earlobe between her thumb and forefinger and began rubbing it slowly as she gazed out at the water. Her world had changed so much in the last year. Some things for the better, some things just up and disappearing. Like George.
“Now you’re the one who looks a bit out of it,” the young man sitting beside him on the bench said.
Emma dropped her hand from her ear and chuckled. “We’re some pair, huh? Both of us a bit on the bleary side and not a drink in sight.”
Those blue eyes were trained on her, a look of intensity creasing his forehead. Emma felt almost like a bug under a magnifying glass. Strangely, the feeling didn’t bother her. What was it about this guy?
“Would you like to go have a drink?” the guy asked, out of the blue and speaking a hundred miles an hour.
A weird fluttering tickled inside Emma’s chest then was gone. “You know, I wouldn’t mind that at all. Looks like it might be kicking up a storm anyway.” Maybe he was interested in her. Going for just one drink wouldn’t hurt, would it?
The young man smiled for the first time, dimples in his cheeks deep, his straight white teeth nearly sparkling. Emma’s stomach tightened. This man before her was even more handsome when he smiled. Emma drew in a slow breath and forced herself to relax. It wasn’t like one drink was going to lead to anything more.
The young man stood up, carefully lifting his coat from the back of the bench and draping it over his arm. “Shall we meet at The Neighborhood? It’s a pub about six blocks down, on the corner at West 117th?”
Emma stood, sliding her hand into the pocket of her jeans, and pulled out her keys. “You sure I can’t give you a ride…I’m sorry, but I don’t know your name?”
“Logan.” He offered his hand.
Emma took it, noticing how soft and warm it was and how nice it would feel sliding up her thigh— “My name is Emma.”
“Glad to meet you, Emma.” Logan pulled his hand gently out of the handshake. “I hope you don’t mind that I prefer to meet you at the pub instead of riding with you. I don’t want to leave my car parked here. You’re not offended in any way, are you?”
Emma shook her head. “Of course not. Why would that offend me? I totally understand, and I’ll tell you what, I’ll buy the first round.”
That smile again, blooming on his lips. Damn.
“I’ll see you in a few minutes then.” Logan turned and began to cross the park to another parking lot.
Emma watched him go. Even the young man’s walk seemed familiar. Emma tossed her keys up in the air a few inches then caught them in the same hand, feeling better than she had a few minutes ago. Turning, she headed for her car, wondering where in the world she’d seen Logan before. It wasn’t that she’d seen him once or twice, either. It felt more familiar than that. Like she’d seen him every day or something.
She beeped the lock on her car and slid into the driver’s seat, still puzzled. She started the car and backed out of the space and turned toward 117th Street. Maybe she could solve the mystery of where she’d seen Logan over a drink.
The way Logan talked though, the words he chose and the way he said them, even the way his mouth moved when he talked gave Emma the impression he wasn’t a beer-drinking kind of guy. Even the word “guy” didn’t fit him. “Young man” was better. Emma shook her head, wrist resting on the steering wheel while she waited for the traffic light to change. Logan seemed so upper crust and higher class that she couldn’t imagine where she’d met him before. What made him ask me out for a drink? I’m not like him. It must be because he was interested in her.
The light changed, and Emma moved forward. Even if he was interested, Emma wasn’t sure she was ready for a relationship. Sex, well, the doc had said she was ready for that. From the way her tummy and her pussy had responded when Logan smiled that great smile of his, Emma wouldn’t mind getting a little closer to the guy. Maybe even a lot closer. Emma tucked her hair behind her ear. She was nervous now, and she shouldn’t be. But it had been a long time since she had been intimate with anyone, and even though the doc said she was good to go about having sex, she was worried about her heart. “Never know until you give it a try,” she said, pulling into a parking space in front of the pub Logan said to meet him at. Whether she ended up gett
ing to know Logan a lot better or they just had drinks, it didn’t matter. Emma was just happy to be alive and breathing, with at least the promise of making a new friend.
Chapter Two
Logan Walker sat at the bar, wondering exactly what he was doing there.
He had gone to the park on impulse and sat looking out at the lake, missing Christi. It had been a year and a half since Christi had fallen down the stairs. Logan had recently begun to feel his life wasn’t over, even if Christi’s was. For some odd reason, he had left the dealership early today and took a walk in the park, and that was what had placed him on the bench looking at the lake. He didn’t know why he’d gone there, only that he had an unrelenting urge to go. He had fought it all morning and finally gave up around three o’clock and jumped in his car and ended up at the park.
He took a sip from the glass of water that sat on the bar in front of him. Was fate involved in his life today? To have met Emma there in the park had to have been fate. He didn’t know the woman, but there was something about her that seemed…familiar. Especially when he had glanced over at her and Emma was rubbing her earlobe with her thumb and forefinger. Christi used to do that when she was thinking.
Logan shrugged, trying to loosen the tight muscles in his shoulders. Being only four thirty in the afternoon, the pub was literally empty. Logan glanced toward the booths, wondering if he should have sat there instead of here at the bar. The booths would have been more private. But then, he didn’t know if he wanted to be more private at this point. Emma looked like a nice girl, but he never knew, did he? He checked his watch. Emma should have been here by now. The traffic wasn’t bad just yet, and it was only six blocks.