He hated that it was true. But it just proved to him that as much as he could feel himself falling for one adorably sexy Emma Harris, it couldn’t ever happen. “You think you’ll sell?”

“You’re changing the subject.”

“Trying.”

“Look.” She stopped working on Emma’s drink and looked Simon in the eyes, her own earnest. “It’s been a long time since you let yourself live a little. All I’m saying is there’s a spark between the two of you. Why not go with it?”

“It’s not that simple. She’s a patient.”

“And I was your boss. That didn’t stop us. You can’t deny that when you’re both in the same room, the heat factor goes up exponentially. I walked by the two of you a bit ago and got so much static electricity I nearly electrocuted myself going into my office.” Kelly smiled at him. “I like it. You need it. You need to act on it.”

“It seems unethical.”

“It’s not like you’re a doctor. Or a shrink. So what if you’re helping her get back to herself? And I’ve seen her look at you. Trust me, it’s two-sided.”

“She’s . . . not ready.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Kelly shrugged. “That’s up to her. But I’m talking about you. You’re too stubborn to let yourself be happy, like . . .” She cocked her head as she looked at him. “Like maybe you think you don’t deserve it.”

He opened his mouth, but she cut him off. “You do realize you’ve pretty much given up your life to help your dad. But, Simon, your dad never gave up his life for yours. He wouldn’t want this.”

“What would you have me do, Kelly? Put him in a facility? Let his business fall apart so he has no income?”

“No, I’d get help. I’d get a full-time aide for him. Several. One of them should take an evening shift or two so you could have a life too.”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you?” Kelly asked.

Emma came out of the back locker room, moving more easily across the floor than she had even two weeks ago. She had her things in a backpack on her shoulders, looking . . . damn. Better than she had in a long time.

Kelly gave him a meaningful look that said get your shit together.

Emma came their way and sat on the stool next to Simon. At the sudden silence between him and Kelly, she gave them a second, longer look. “Am I interrupting?”

“Yes,” Kelly said. “I’m lecturing Simon about getting a life, and how important that is.”

“Food,” Simon said to Emma. “You need food to refuel.”

Kelly rolled her eyes and turned to the fridge to pull out two chicken avocado salads, the toppings, including two small containers of crumbled blue cheese, and a small loaf of homemade blueberry-lemon bread.

“I’ll take his crumbled blue cheese,” Emma said, snatching it up.

“Because . . .” Kelly looked at Simon with faux guile. “He’s lactose intolerant?”

Emma snorted. “No, he doesn’t eat it because”—she lowered her voice to imitate his—“that stuff’ll kill you, Em.”

Damn. Why did he love it when she made fun of him?

Kelly laughed. She’d been trying to push Simon’s buttons. Instead she’d proved a point. That he and Emma had gotten close enough that she knew him better than . . . well, most people.

He’d let her in.

Yeah, yeah, fine. He had. But he hadn’t meant to, and until the other night on the roof, he’d had no reason to think she might feel the same about him. As for what he did feel for her, that was still a big hot ball of messy emotion the weight of an elephant sitting on his chest. Best to ignore.

Emma reached over and stole his pickle.

Kelly started to laugh again, but at Simon’s deadpan look, she pretend-coughed to cover it.

“He hates pickles,” Emma explained.

“Oh, I know,” Kelly said. “I’m just finding it funny that you know it too.” And with that, she smirked and walked off.

Emma watched her go. “What was that about?”

“Nothing.”

“Seemed like something.”

He shoveled some salad in.

“Think that’s going to save you?” she asked, once again mimicking him, using the very words and tone he often used on her in their sessions.

It made him laugh, and damn, Kelly was right. Emma was good for him. And something else too. He was no longer surprised by how comfortable he felt when he was with her. Yeah, so much of his life wasn’t his own right now, but this, her, was. Their working relationship had been built slowly, over months and months, on honesty and trust alone. It’d begun with Emma having no choice but to fully trust Simon, and he’d done his best to live up to that for her. Their ensuing friendship was also built on honesty and trust, but ironically, this had been him having to trust her, at least at first, and he’d been rusty at that. Still, it’d worked and it was good, so he saw no reason to give up either the honesty or the trust now. “Kelly thinks we should make a move on this thing happening between us.”

She stared at him. “And you?” she finally asked. “What do you think?”

Honesty. He told himself that was the only thing he had in his favor. “That we can’t do this and still work together.”

She nodded and set down her fork. “Well, that settles it then.”

Okay, good. One of them was thinking straight. She’d drawn the line in the sand, and neither of them would cross it. That was the smart thing to do. The right thing. The only thing, so he nodded, hoping like hell his disappointment wasn’t showing.

“Simon?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re fired.”

He blinked, compliant when she stood and pulled him to his feet, then stepped close and looked at him with those beautiful eyes that he’d never been able to resist. She went up on tiptoe and, hands to his chest, brushed her lips to his.

A simple touch, and his heart thundered in his chest. He wondered if she could feel it beneath her hand, but then he could wonder about nothing because she kissed him again, deeper, and his brain ceased functioning. God. Her mouth, her taste . . .

When Emma pulled back, Simon’s first instinct was to tighten his hold on her as they stared at each other. He finally cleared his throat. “That was a long time coming.”