I stood watching her hasty getaway. Those long thick waves tumbling down her back, the ends catching on the breeze.

Cursing, my feet itched to chase her down, apologise again and tell her the truth behind my sneaking out of bed at the crack of dawn to avoid her. And that it hadn't been about her. She had done nothing wrong, in truth she had done everything right... more than right.

But I didn't because I was the fucking scum of the earth.

I'd slept with a woman, a woman half my age, less than twelve months after the death of my wife —the only woman I would ever love.

Closing the door, her stricken eyes haunted my thoughts as I headed toward the kitchen. My head was banging like a marching brass band and the painkillers were upstairs in the bedroom. The same bedroom I'd just slept with a total stranger.

How messed up was that? I'd suffer from it. I deserved to feel like shit.

Coffee brewed, I poured myself a large mug and sat down, staring out toward the garden that Emma had loved to spend hours in when she was alive. I'd barely touched it, rarely ever stepping foot outside. But Hank, my gardener, had kept it just as beautiful. I could at least do that for her.

Barely a half-hour later, I heard the front door open, and slam shut.

"Adam?"

It was Chris. I didn't answer, sure he would make his way through.

"Jesus, Adam. You put the phone down, so I headed straight over." He looked over his shoulder. "Is she still here?"

"No," I hung my head before meeting his stare. "I think she heard me on the phone to you. Asshole!"

"Hey, hey." He held up his hand to protest.

I waved it off. "And ran out the door as if I'd lit a fire under her ass." I blew out an agonised breath, leaning back in my chair; my fingers wrapped around my mug.

"Phew, okay." He was already opening a cupboard door and grabbing himself a mug. Chris treated my home like his second home. "So, what's the problem?" He poured himself a coffee then made a beeline over to the refrigerator.

Had he not listened to anything I'd said over the phone?

Sitting himself in the chair opposite. "So, I assume you will not be seeing her again?"

"Jesus, Chris! Are you for real? I not only dishonoured the memory of my wife. I may have just scarred that poor young woman for life."

He blew over the top of his mug before taking a sip, unconcerned with my outburst. "How old was she?"

I cringed; clearly, I'd lost my senses last night. Blame it on the alcohol? Doubtful. "She was young enough to be my daughter." I shrugged. "Don't know, guessing maybe twenty."

"You dog!" He grinned like a goddamn fool.

"Fuck off Chris. Did you not listen to anything I've said?"

He slammed his mug down. "No! You listen up Adam. There was abso-fucking-lutely nothing wrong with what you did last night."

I levelled him a stare, my chest tightening "Emma's barely—"

"Emma's gone," he cut in, stopping me short. "And you've been in this dark hole since." He paused, inhaling. "Adam, I don't say this because I want to hurt you. I know you hurt every day. I know you miss her every day. But this can't go on. It's not fucking healthy, man."

He ran his hand through his messed-up hair. "The only time you're alive is when you're operating and then the sparks gone. You're like a walking corpse. You can't just live to work."

I was still in a dark place. And it was true going to work was the reason I kept on going. I'd been unable to bring myself to move anything from our bedroom. Even her shoes were sitting exactly where she'd left the. Her perfume on the dresser and her lemon cardigan she'd pulled from her wardrobe not having time to slip it on as she'd found herself breathless, collapsing to the floor.

I'd moved into our guest room so I wouldn't have to change a thing.

Crazy?—maybe to some. But on those dark days when I felt lost, I found comfort from lying on our bed. Her smell was still there, barely... but just enough so I could breathe.

And I knew it wasn't healthy. But when she died, my heart hadn't merely been broken. It was a shadow of what it was and had been fading a little more every day... that was until last night.

And as much as it appalled me. I couldn't deny something inside me had warmed and being with her... made me face a few home truths, one being how much I missed the feel of a woman's touch.

Not only that, she made me forget myself for a few hours and it was nice to look into someone's eyes and see desire and need, rather than pity.

And the guilt of missing...wanting that closeness, was shredding me from the inside out. I felt disgusted for thinking it and Christ, admitting that I actually enjoyed it.

Chris was studying me as our gazes disagreed. "And do you honestly think Emma would want to see you like this? Shutting yourself off from everything and everyone?"

The promise I'd made had been a hollow one at best. "It's not that easy, Chris."

"No one said it was. But no one would think any less of you for living, Adam." He pinched the bridge of his nose, his voice dipping. "It's time Adam. Time to let yourself live."

I scrubbed my hand across my face. Would anytime ever be the right time? And what was that saying—time waits for no man? "You realize I'm never going out with you again."

He barked out a laugh. "The first time you come out with me in years, and you not only got hit on—but a beautiful woman went home with you." He shook his head. "Lucky bastard. If that had been me. Damn, I'd still had be rolling around in the sheets with her. She was sumthin' else."

Dropping my hand, I lifted my mug to my mouth as a smile teased my lips.

"Anyway, throw me a bone. She was good, right? I mean, she looked like walking advertisement for sin."

"Jesus, Chris, don't talk about her like that. You make it sound sordid. I already feel like I used the poor girl."

"That was no girl. Girls don't have curves that a man could drown in. That my friend was a bonafide 100% sensual woman." His brows inched upwards. "And who's to say she didn't use you?" He finished his coffee. "You've been out of the game a long time, and women nowadays don't hang around for men anymore. They take the bull by the horns." He got up for a refill. "And stop crying into the breastmilk—you were safe, right?"

My stomach twisted. "Yeah, I think. It was a blur and—" I'd got lost in her the second I'd closed the front door. Her dress had been off by the time we'd reached the top and those amazing breasts hidden behind all that pretty lace...damn, I'd been dumbstruck.

"Jesus, you think?" His mouth dropped open as he sat down again.

I scoffed, feeling embarrassed for even telling him this. "First time I went off like a fricken firecracker, it was over before it started." It had been a long time since I'd touched a woman sexually.

Flashes of her creamy thighs raced through my head and her smell, like sweet peaches.

"Ouch... but c'mon, he has been benched for a while." A stupid grin took over his face. "The first time? You dog—how many are we talking?"

"Seriously, how old are you?"

He laughed. "Well, I hope you enjoyed it my friend, because believe me that was a once in a lifetime deal."

"What—it could happen again. You have women all the time."

"Yeah, but it usually takes work. Dinner, drinks and some serious sweet talking." He rolled his eyes. "You had an off the chart hot woman sit down and kiss you for Christ-sake and then she went home with you." He let out a slow breath. "That's unheard of."

Now it was my turn to smirk. "Someone a little jealous?"

"Yeah, damn straight. But face facts. You won't see her again and that's the beauty of a one-night stand."

He was right. The likelihood of seeing her again was slim to none. None withstanding, the way she flew out of here and the way she looked at me reduced the odds even further.

A strange feeling tightened across my gut and a wrenching feeling of losing something I'd never had wormed its way through my thoughts.

What the? I shook it off. It was ridiculous to have any feelings about what happened.

But Chris wasn't wrong. She was beautiful and off the scale sexy. My cock twitched at the memory, which was surprising as last night was the first time he'd shown any sign of life... that kiss. The taste of her, the feel of her soft lips had a lightning bolt straight downstairs. Making him harder that I could ever recall.

Another flash of her body and what her skin felt like under my fingers. Soft and hot. And those little moans she made as I kissed down her neck nearly had me coming before I'd got my clothes off. My cock thickened this time at the memory, and I resisted adjusting him whilst being stared at by my best friend, looking like he was getting ready to share something with me as his face fell into a frown.

"Anyway, tomorrow. I tried everything. Including offering cash and to cover some shifts."

Tomorrow? I mentally pictured my schedule. I wasn't on shift till Monday. "What about tomorrow?"

"Yeah... about that. The Lockwood annual barbeque."

"What about it?"

"We drew the short straw this year."

Shit. I'd avoided that particular event for the last three years straight. I shook my head. "Count me out."

The Lockwood family practically built Lockwood Creek... the entire town and Hank Lockwood, driven by the loss of his twin sister, had built the world renowned and celebrated Mercy Heights Hospital, named after his sister and his daughter.

Mercy Heights was ground-breaking in cardiac pioneering procedures and treatment. Cardiologists came from all over America... hell, the world to train here and it was the reason I'd moved across the country to finish up my residency here and worked my balls off to be offered a coveted position.

And where I'd met Emma.

And with their money and influence, the Lockwood family were never far from any decisions made over there, putting staff in their place, never letting them forget who they worked for—or who ran the show behind the scenes.

Chris shook his head stubbornly. "Na-ah. Not happening. Chief said it's me and you buddy and there is no way you're sending me in there solo."

"Can't you just say you're sick or something?"

"Used that last year."

"There must be some get-out clause."

"Nope, so suck it up. You've had a bonafide reason, but that won't wash any longer. The great Dr Adam Matthews, can't play that card forever." He shrugged. "And prepare yourself. Mercy Jane Lockwood lines up all her eligible female divorcees and singleton friends... vultures the lot of them and attempts to raffle you off to the highest bidder."

"What the hell, Chris." I sat up straight. "You can definitely count me out?"

"No can do. If I have to suffer it—then so do you, my friend."

He pushed his chair out and stood. "On that bombshell, I need to hit the road. I'll swing by here tomorrow at one." Pointing his finger. "And you better be here." He padded down his pockets to find his keys, and I walked him to the front door, trying to wrangle an excuse to get out of the dreaded barbeque.

"Honestly, Chris, is there no way out of this?" The idea of spending an afternoon in the company of the Lockwood family made my insides shrivel.

"Aside from selling your soul to the devil—which I've heard rumours that the devil is actually Mercy Jane Lockwood."

I'd remembered Emma's run-ins with Mercy. But like most people, they'd eventually bend to my wife's request. Emma had a way with people and would often steer the person to her way of thinking and then make them think it was their idea.

I smiled. It was another thing I missed so goddamn much. Emma had me wrapped around her finger without even trying.

Chris opened his car door and stopped, shouting over. "And be grateful her daughters are too young or else she would throw one of them at you, no doubt."

I cringed at the idea. A younger version of Mercy Jane Lockwood—Hell no!

"Later." He climbed into his car.

Watching him pull out of the drive, I couldn't put it off any longer. I would need to head upstairs and change the sheets whilst trying to think of anyone who would trade places with me and go with Chris.

Who was I kidding? I was screwed. And perhaps this was my punishment for last night.

Times up, Adam.