She was late. As usual. And today was so NOT the day to be late. She had an appointment with a new client that should start 15 minutes. But like always, she had gotten distracted and had to rush back.

Abby McDaniels pulled into the driveway and slipped the shades from her eyes. There wasn't another car in sight, which was strange. Abby climbed out of her 1971 Plymouth GTX and reached inside for the two bags from the market. She'd have just enough time to stash the cookies and get the therapy room set up. She dropped the bags on the counter and turned the stereo on. Soft notes of Beethoven filled air. Golden sun filtered into the small kitchen, making the hardwood floors gleam. That had been part of the appeal when she had bought this place. She had dreamed of somewhere to call home and the cottage had been perfect.

Abby made her way slowly thru the house, making sure everything was in place. She opened the french doors that led out to the deck. The sun reflected off the clear blue water of the pool, casting waves along the ceiling. She grabbed her clipboard from the small desk inside the door and looked over the intake form. Her patient was male, 6-foot tall, just at 240 pounds, occupation listed was athlete. Abby sighed softly. It was sad how many of her patients were people just wanting to get back to their former selves.

She turned at the sound of the doorbell echoing thru the house. She opened the door and looked WAY up into the most intense blue eyes she had ever seen. Abby felt herself take a step back. Man! This guy was HUGE!

"I'm looking for Abby McDaniels. I have an appointment." Oh hell! His voice was like velvet slipping over her skin.

"I'm … I" Abby could barely find her voice "I'm Abby McDaniels."

His blue eyes swept over her once, from head to toe and back again. "I'm John Cena." He stuck his hand out. Abby looked down, her mouth working like a fish. She reached out and took his hand, her smaller one all but disappearing in his. "Excuse me" Abby suddenly found her voice "I'm so sorry. Come on in."

She stepped aside, allowing him to pass. His large frame made everything seem, well, smaller. Abby stepped forward, noticing she barely came up to his shoulder. They stood there, looking each over other. For the first time she found herself truly speechless. Abby let her gaze trail from those incredible blue eyes, down the long line of his throat, over those too-wide shoulders. That was when Abby noticed his right arm hung loosely at his side. However, his left arm was curled slightly in toward his body. Damn. Looked like he was nursing a shoulder injury. Abby collected herself and stepped toward the therapy room.

"I know it's not usual to have to go to somebody's house for treatment." Abby glanced over her shoulder and gave him a little smile. "But I believe the best results happen when the patient isn't stressed."

John grunted softly. He had been paying attention to her right up until the second she glanced over her shoulder and smiled. It wasn't a real smile. Not like one if she were really happy. But that little flash did something to him. Maybe it was the soft light in her big brown eyes or maybe it was how she made him feel so … Hell, he couldn't put a word to it. But she definitely made him feel something.

He followed Abby deeper into the house, noticing how tidy everything was. Abby had entered what he guessed was the "therapy" room. It was plain – creamy white walls, transparent white curtains fluttering in the breeze. The only hints of color in the room were a dozen pink roses sitting on a side table. Standing in the center of the room was a long table; thick white towels were neatly folded at one end. Abby reached for the clipboard and motioned for John to sit on the table. He glanced down at her then slowly shifted his weight onto the table.

"Care to tell me what brings you in?" Abby glanced from the form, then to John, and back again. Often times, this was the hardest part. Getting people to talk wasn't always easy.

John shrugged his good shoulder slightly and frowned. "About seven months ago my shoulder separated, the rotator cuff tore and it hasn't healed right." He didn't mince words, did he? Abby arched a brow and waited for him to continue. "The scar tissue build-up has reduced the range of motion." John blew out a breath and looked over at her.

Setting the clipboard aside, Abby stood and took a small step toward him. "I guess we better get a look at that shoulder." She leaned close, her hands going to his shoulder. John's eyes focused sharply on her as he took a deep breath. Shit. She smells good – almost too good. The clean, soft scent of her teased him. His eyes closed. He tried to focus as her gentle fingers probed the tender area of his shoulder. Abby made a small sound under her breath. She could tell there was a great deal of tenderness in the joint. She could feel the line where the incision had healed. It wasn't nearly as smooth as it should have been. Abby wrapped her fingers around his thick wrist and gently lifted his arm.

"Tell me when this starts to hurt." She was able to move his arm less than six inches before she hard his sharp breath.

"Right there, huh?" John nodded and glanced at her. Damn. He knew rehab was going to be difficult but he sure as hell didn't expect this. Abby was beautiful – even with the frown creasing her brow. This was so not the distraction he needed right now. He needed to focus. He needed to get past this and get back in the ring. Then he heard the words that sent all his good intentions straight to hell, "This shirt has got to come off."