Mirin, Christelle - Emma's Heart (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) by Christelle Mirin Page A

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