Thank you for your continued support. I sincerely appreciate it.

Standard disclaimer.

Fairly long chapter.

Sorry for any extreme mistakes, I've been tired since the start of school, which was on Monday.

There is no kiss sweeter than a chocolate kiss.

Sam slept hard that night, and apparently, lulled by post-orgasmic glow, he didn't dream.

Sex was the cure for nightmares.

Good to know.

His morning went pretty much status quo.

Mark met him on the beach, and they'd gone several miles, when he got a cramp and went down.

Sam was too far away, and his heart nearly stopped, before he got to Mark and dragged his ass out of the water.

Mark rolled around in agony on the sand, while Sam dug his fingers into his calf and rubbed the cramp out.

After being successful, he collapsed onto the sand next to Mark.

"No more," he commanded.

Mark was gasping for breath.

"You're right. You're a fucking animal in the water. No one should be able to swim that long and that hard."

"No, I mean, because you nearly drowned yourself," Sam said.

"Well," Mark managed, sitting up with a smile. "Only half drowned, thanks to you."

"Fuck it Mark! I'm not kidding. You're not swimming with me anymore."

Mark's smile faded, as he studied Sam for a long moment.

"You do realize, that not everyone's going to die on you, right?"

"Shut up!"

"What crawled up your ass today? You had a good time last night...I saw you actually crack a smile at Mercedes."

'Mercedes. God, Mercedes.'

Sam pushed upright and despite his trembling limbs, he started walking.

"Good talk," Mark called out after him.

But Sam kept going, heading back to the house. He wanted to run, but his leg didn't have the same want.

Brooding about that, he pushed hard, forcing himself to stay at the tide line, where the sand was the softest and choppiest, because, that made the going, extra teeth-grindingly difficult.

Difficult worked.

He wanted to feel the pain, to remind himself why the hell he was here. Which was not to dally, with the sweet, warm, giving, sexy-as-hell Mercedes Jones.

Though, she'd been all those things and more, and she'd revved his engine good.

Every time he thought about how hot she'd looked, lying all spread out for him on that couch, he got hard.

'Stupid!'

What he'd done last night, had been beyond stupid and he knew it. It was also selfish, and he had no excuse, other than she'd blindsided him, with her open, honest sweetness.

He should have ignored the attraction...he'd fully intended to...but that hadn't worked out so well for him.

And now, he could add being an asshole to his list of infractions. Because, taking advantage of Mercedes last night, had been a real dick move.

But she was…well, everything he wasn't.

And she didn't deserve the likes of him, or what he'd done.

She probably already hated him for it. But he told himself this was for the best and took a long, hot shower.

Sam pulled on clothes, while eyeballing the empty Vicodin bottle on the dresser.

This was a ritual...the stare down.

In the end, he shoved the bottle into his pocket as he always did, wanting the reminder close at hand.

The reminder to keep his head on straight, keep his mind on the goal...and getting back in the game.

With that in his head, he left for his doctor's appointment.

"Looking better," Dr. Scott said an hour later, eyeing the latest screen of Sam's leg.

"I feel all better," Sam said, lying through his teeth. After this morning's exercise, he hurt like hell.

Not fooled, the doctor gave him a long look.

"I'm good for light duty."

"Uh huh." The doctor leaned back in his chair and studied him. "Lighter duty than what, rappelling out of helicopters, rescuing dignitaries, etcetera?"

This was the problem with having your boss put you on leave, until you were medically cleared.

Thanks to Francine, Dr. Scott knew far too much about him.

Sam blew out a breath.

It wasn't Dr. Scott's fault. He was a good guy, and under different circumstances, he would even be considered a friend...if Sam had friends. He didn't. He'd let his friends die on a mountaintop four years ago.

'So what is Mark,' a pesky little voice asked. 'Or Mercedes?'

'Accidents,' he decided.

"Look," Dr. Scott said, leaning forward, "You want out of here. I get that. And you're getting closer. But let's give it another week, okay?"

'Another fucking week,' Sam internally swore. But reacting badly wasn't going to help him.

He'd use the week to finish Mark's Jimmy. And the Shelby. He couldn't leave without the Shelby.

"Fine. But you tell her."

"Francine?" The doctor smiled grimly. "Gladly."

When Sam got back to the house, his phone was blinking missed calls.

He deleted them without a glance, then went to work on the Jimmy.

Later, he switched to his real love...the Shelby...stopping to look up some parts on the Internet.

There, he got distracted by an e-mail from Mark with a link.

He'd been tagged on Facebook. In fact, on the Lucky Harbor page, there was an entire note on him, listing sightings and news.

They called him Mysterious Cute Guy.

It was enough to give a guy nightmares.

Except, he was already having nightmares…

Sam waited until hunger stopped him and drove into town.

Lucky Harbor was nestled in a rocky cove, its architecture a quirky, eclectic mix of the old and new.

The main drag was lined with Victorian buildings, painted in bright colors, housing the requisite grocery store, post office, gas station, and hardware store.

Then, there was a turnoff to the beach itself, where a long pier jutted out into the water, lined with more shops, the arcade and Ferris wheel, and the diner.

Eat Me, was like something from an out-of-time Mayberry, except in Mayberry, he'd probably not have gotten laid at Vets' Hall, in a storage attic above the entire town.

Noticing the brand new front door, Sam entered the diner and took a seat at the counter.

Then, Santana silently poured him a mug of coffee.

This was routine...they'd been doing the same dance for months, rarely speaking to each other.

He really appreciated that in a waitress, and he liked her infinitely more, than the eternally grumpy diner owner, Sue.

She scared him, just a little bit.

Just then, Santana dropped the local paper in front of him and cocked a hip tableside.

At that, he slowly pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head and gave her a level look.

Her return look, had bad attitude written all over it.

She wore a black tee, with some type of Chinese symbol on the front and the requisite frilly pink apron, which looked incongruous, with her short denim skirt, boots, and general kick-ass attitude.

She gestured with a short jerk of her chin to the paper, and he took a look.

The headline read...COUNTY HOSPITAL'S AUCTION...A HUGE SUCCESS.

'So far so good,' he thought.

Then, he read the first paragraph, which credited the success of the auction to the nurses, specifically Mercedes Jones, who, along with her new boyfriend, had gotten the entire Vets' Hall on its feet, by starting off the bidding with a bang.

Sam reread the article.

'New boyfriend? Mysterious Cute Guy?'

He graced Santana with his no-nonsense, don't-fuck-with-me look.

It had cowed many.

But Santana didn't appear impressed, or even particularly intimidated.

He set down the paper and pushed it away.

And she pushed it back with a single finger.

"Do you have a point?" he asked.

"Several, actually. First, Mercedes is my friend. And I recently encouraged her, to make a change in her life. You were that change. Don't make me sorry."

Sam wasn't used to threats, however sweetly uttered. He has never been.

He'd been raised by two military parents, who'd taken turns parenting him, when one or the other had been on tour overseas.

He'd been loved, but weaknesses had not been tolerated. Even his current job, added up to a life lived by rules, discipline, sheer wits, and honor.

The honor part was troubling him now.

Somehow, in spite of himself and his reclusiveness, he'd managed to find celebrity status, in this crazy-ass, one-horse town, and even worse, there was Mercedes...wanting him to take her, for a walk on the wild side.

Bad idea.

The worst.

But he'd done it anyway. He'd fallen captive to those melted chocolate eyes, even knowing, he planned on being out of Lucky Harbor any minute now.

"She's a big girl," Sam finally said.

Santana stared at him for a long moment, then shook her head and walked away, muttering something beneath her breath, about the entire male race being genetically flawed.

Sam was actually inclined to agree with her.

He paid for his coffee and received another long, careful look from her.

'Message received.'

As to whether he was going to heed the warning, the jury was still out.

Sam went straight back to his big, empty house, and cranked the music to ear-splitting levels, as he worked on the Shelby.

He'd seen the car in the newspaper on his first day in Lucky Harbor, and hadn't been able to resist it.

He'd never been able to resist a sweetheart of a car.

Or, apparently, a sweetheart of a woman…

Mercedes sat in a hospital board meeting, surrounded by a bunch of administrators, that included her boss and her mother, in what should have been the meeting of her life.

Instead, her mind was a million miles away. Or more accurately, in a certain storage room.

Memories of that storage room, and what Sam had done to her in it, were making her warm. Very warm.

She still couldn't believe how fast she'd gotten naked with him.

'Well, not quite naked,' she reminded herself.

But she'd been in such a hurry, she hadn't even lost her panties, not completely.

Sam had simply slipped them aside with his fingers.

Just remembering, made her damp all over again.

'Dear God.'

She'd never gone up in flames, so hard and so fast, in her entire life.

'Heaven.'

He'd taken her to heaven in seven minutes. A record for her. And she'd do it again, in a heartbeat.

That is, if the man who'd taken her to heaven, hadn't vanished from the auction without a word.

'That should teach me, to have completely inappropriate sex with a man, whose name I'd learned, only twenty minutes earlier.'

But all it'd really taught her, was that, she'd been missing out. Man, had she been missing out.

Worse, she knew the magnitude of her attraction for him now, and she was afraid that the next time she saw him, she was going to shove him into the nearest closet for round two.

And round three.

Mercedes took a moment to fantasize about that, about what she'd be wearing the next time.

Maybe her little black dress again...he'd seemed to really like it.

And maybe next time, she'd leave the panties at home...

"Mercedes?"

Mercedes blinked away the vision of Sam and her panties and came face to face, with a not amused Shelby Cochran.

"The amount?" she asked, in a tone that said, she'd repeated herself several times already.

"Eighteen thousand," Mercedes replied, as she looked down at the check in her hands...a check she was incredibly proud of...the total of the proceeds from the auction.

"You said, the board would donate twenty-five percent of it to the Health Services Clinic," she went on.

"There isn't an HSC," Shelby said. "Not yet."

Mercedes bit back her retort, knowing better than to show weakness.

"There will be. We've proven need."

"Have we?" Shelby asked.

"Yes."

Mercedes forced herself, to look the other board members in the eyes as she spoke, no matter how resistant they were.

Dr. Scott was there, rumpled and gorgeous as usual. And his eyes warmed, when he met her gaze.

No one else made eye contact, she realized. She took a big gulp of air.

"The need is obvious. There's nowhere else in the entire county, providing drug programs, teen pregnancy counseling, women's services, or an abuse hotline. We all know that. The ER is losing money, because, we're taking on patients who'd be better served by a Health Clinic."

"You mean people who can't, or won't, pay." This was from Biff Langley, head of the board of directors.

He was tall, lean, and fit, looking forty, instead of his fifty-five. He had sharp eyes, a sharper mind, and was all about the bottom line.

Always.

He was listening though, and Mercedes appreciated that.

This was important to her, had been, since Kamara died, because, she'd had no place to go and get the services she'd so desperately needed.

People rarely talked about Kamara and what happened to her. But Mercedes hadn't forgotten a thing, and she intended to make sure, that no other scared eighteen-year-old girl, ever felt the helplessness and terror, that her sister had.

"We've run the numbers," Mercedes said, talking directly to Biff now.

The hospital, just outside of Lucky Harbor, serviced the entire county, but was private. It is run by a board of directors, who all tended to bow to Biff's wishes.

And she needed his support.

"A Health Services Clinic, is eligible for programs and funding, which the ER isn't. I've written the grant requests. If you go with my proposed plan and allow use of the old west wing, then, one hundred percent of the HSC revenue, will go right back into the hospital's pockets."

"It would also mean, that the full financial responsibility for the Health Services Clinic, would be the hospital's," Biff pointed out.

She knew, he already knew this. He just didn't like it.

"Yes," she agreed. "But with the grants and donations, HSC will run in the black, and in the long run, it'll save your ER losses. We've got most of the first year's funds already."

"You're short ten big ones."

"True, but I won't stop until we have the rest," she promised. "This makes sense for our community, Biff, and it's the right thing to do."

She paused, then admitted the rest.

"I'm going to be a pain in your ass over this."

"Going to be?" Biff shook his head wryly. "Listen, Mercedes, I believe in what you're trying to do, and I want to be on your side. But let's face the truth here...your proposed programs, will bring a certain…demographic to Lucky Harbor, a demographic, we typically try to divert away to other parts of the county. The town isn't really behind this."

"The town can be persuaded. People are in need, and HSC can meet that need."

Biff was quiet a moment, and Mercedes did her best not to fidget. She was only moderately successful.

"I'll make you a deal," Biff finally said. "At this week's town meeting, I'll give everyone a formal spiel, then ask for thoughts."

People went to town meetings, like they went to the grocery store or got gas. It was simply what everyone did.

If Biff asked for opinions, he'd get them, in droves.

"If we get a positive response, I'll consider a one-month trial run for HSC. One month, Mercedes," he said, when she smiled. "Then, we'll reevaluate, on the condition of the actual costs and the bottom line at that time. If you've got the budget for the rest of the year, after that month, and if there've been no problems, you're on. If not, you drop this."

He gave her a long look.

"Is that acceptable to you?" he asked.

There was only one answer here.

"Yes, sir," she said, with carefully tempered excitement.

"Oh, and that budget of yours, better not include, paying you to go to the pharmacy and pick up meds for our patients and then delivering them."

He was referring to how she'd picked up Mrs. Garland's meds for her, just that morning and brought them to the woman's home.

How he'd found out, wasn't too much of a mystery. Lucky Harbor had one pharmacy, which was located in the grocery store, and everyone in town was in and out of that store often.

Anyone, from the pharmacist, to the clerk, to any of the customers could have seen her, although, she hadn't made a secret of what she was doing.

Nor had Mrs. Garland made a mystery out of, how she'd felt about Mercedes delivering her meds.

"Do you expect a tip?" she'd asked.

And Mercedes had shaken her head no. But Mrs. Garland wasn't to be deterred.

"Well, here it is. Put on some makeup and do something with your hair, or you'll never catch a man."

At the memory, Mercedes felt an eye twitch coming on, but she didn't let it dampen her relief. She was much closer to opening the HSC, than she'd ever been.

"I did that on my own time," Mercedes said. And Biff nodded.

"And if by some miracle, the town meeting goes well, how long would you need, to get up and running?" he asked.

She'd had volunteer professionals from all over the county, on standby all year.

"I would open immediately...with limited services...adding more, as quickly as I can get supplies and staff scheduled."

"See that 'immediately', is actually immediately," Biff said. "And I'll expect to see numbers weekly."

"Yes, sir."

An hour later, Mercedes was on the ER floor, still doing the happy dance.

Finally, she had something, other than sexy Sam to think about, because, hoping for town approval and actually getting it, were two very different things.

Not that she had time to think about that either, thanks to a crazy shift.

She had a stroke victim, a diabetic in the midst of losing his toes, a gangbanger who'd been shot up in Seattle and made it all the way to Lucky Harbor, before deciding he was dying, two drunks, a stomach-ache, and a partridge in a pear tree.

And in-between patients, she worked the phones like mad, preparing for a very tentative Health Clinic opening, the following week.

The west wing in the hospital, had once been the emergency department, before the new wing had been built, three years ago.

It was perfectly set up for the clinic, and easily accessible, with its own parking lot.

But it needed to be cleaned and stocked. And she needed staff on standby.

The list of what she needed and what she had to do, went on and on.

When Mercedes yawned for the tenth time, she went in search of coffee.

As she stood there mainlining it, waiting for it to kick in...her mind danced off, to revisit a certain storage room…big, warm hands, both rough and gentle at the same time, stroking her...

"Mercedes, my goodness. Where are you at, in that pretty little head, Disneyland?"

She blinked and the daydream faded, replaced by the sight of her mother, who stood in front of her, smiling with bafflement.

"I called your name three times...know what? The same thing happened in the board meeting. Honey, what in the world are you thinking about today?"

She'd been thinking about the sound Sam had made, when he'd come, a low, inherently male sound, that gave her a tingle even now.

"Dessert," she said faintly. "I'm thinking about dessert."

"Hmmm." Her mother looked doubtful, but didn't call her on it. "Have you seen the paper?"

"You mean the local gossip rag, masquerading as legit news?"

They'd labeled Sam her boyfriend.

'Wonder who ran the fact check for that tidbit?'

"Yeah, I saw it." Every person she'd come across had made sure of it.

"Honey, I just don't think it's a good idea to risk so much, on a man you know nothing about."

"It's not about taking risks, mom."

And it wasn't.

She had risked nothing, not really. Well, maybe she'd risked getting caught, having wild sex in a public place, but she'd felt safe enough, or she never would have done it.

No, for her, it'd been about being selfish for the first time in recent memory...taking what she wanted.

And yeah, maybe that was going to wreak some havoc on her personal life. But since when, was worrying about what people thought, a life requirement?

'Since a long time ago. Since I'd gotten it in my head, that I had to be good, to be loved.'

"Mercedes, honestly," her mother murmured, her tone full of worry. "This is so unlike you, seeing a man you don't even know."

'Yes, Mercedes...the shock...the horror. The good girl, actually wanting something for herself. How dare you?' Mercedes thought bitterly.

"We're not seeing each other," she said. At least, not how her mother meant.

"But the newspaper said..."

"We're not," Mercedes repeated. Sam hadn't said so in words, not a single one in fact, but he couldn't have been more clear, as he'd vanished.

"So you're telling me, that I'm worrying about nothing?" Mrs. Jones asked.

"Unless, you enjoy having to wash that gray out of your hair, every three weeks, yes. You're worrying about nothing."

Her mother patted her brunette bob self-consciously.

"Four weeks and counting. Do I need a touch-up?"

Just then, Marley came running through, looking breathless. She was a fellow nurse, twenty-two years old and so fresh out of nursing school, she still squeaked when she walked.

And because she was a trainee, she got all the crap jobs...such as, signing in new patients.

"He's here," she whispered dramatically, practically quivering with the news. "In the waiting room."

"He?" Mercedes asked.

Marley nodded vigorously.

"He."

"Does 'he' have a name?" Mrs. Jones asked dryly.

"Mysterious Cute Guy!"

Mrs. Jones slid Mercedes a look, but she was too busy having a coronary to respond.

'Why is he here?'

"Is he hurt or sick?" she asked aloud.

"He asked for Dr. Scott," Marley said in a rush. "But Dr. Scott's been called away."

Mercedes moved around Marely and said,

"I'll take him."

"Are you sure?" she asked. "Because, I'd be happy to..."

"I'm sure."

At that, Mercedes turned away, leaving her mother and Marley in her wake.

With her heart pounding, Mercedes headed down the hallway towards the ER waiting room, taking quick mental stock.

She had nothing gross or unidentifiable on her scrubs...that was always a bonus. But she couldn't remember, if she was wearing mascara.

And she really wished she'd redone her hair at break.

'Seriously? Girl get a grip!'

Sam was indeed in the waiting room, but there was no noticeable injury.

He was seated, head back, eyes closed, and one leg stretched out in front of him.

He wore faded Levi's and a black T-shirt, and looked like the poster boy, for Tall, Dark, and Dangerous.

Pretty much, anyone looking at him, would assume he was relaxed, maybe even asleep, but Mercedes sensed, he was about as relaxed as a coiled rattler.

Sam opened his eyes and looked at Mercedes.

Inexplicably nervous, she glanced at the TV mounted high in a corner, which was tuned to a soap opera.

On the screen, was a beautiful, dark-haired woman, getting it on with a guy half her age in a hot tub. She was panting and screaming out the guy's name.

'Oh, good. Because, this isn't awkward enough,' she thought.

She hastily looked around for the remote, but it was MIA.

Naturally.

Sam's brows went up, but he said nothing...he didn't need to. The last time she'd seen him, he'd been pouring on the charm and getting into her panties with shocking ease.

Okay, maybe not so much on the charm. Nope, he'd drawn her in, with something far more devastatingly effective...that piercing, fierce green gaze, which had turned her on, like she'd never been turned on before.

And apparently, nothing much had changed in that regard.

She'd just handled three emergencies in a row, without an elevation in her heart rate, but her heart was pumping now, thudding in her chest and bouncing off her rib cage at stroke levels.

'He walked away from me,' Mercedes reminded herself, clearly not intending to further their relationship...if that's what one called a quickie these days.

Meanwhile, the woman on the TV was still screaming, like she was auditioning for a porno film.

The air conditioning was on, which in no way, explained why Mercedes was in the throes of a sudden hot flash.

Whirling around, she continued to search in desperation for the remote, finally locating it, sitting innocuously on a corner chair.

It still took her a horrifyingly long time to find the mute button, but when she hit it, the ensuing silence seemed more deafening, than the screaming had been.

She could feel Sam looking at her, and she bit her lower lip, because, all she could think about, was that he'd made her cry out like that too.

But at least she hadn't begged.

"I'd offer a penny for your thoughts," he said. "But I have the feeling, they're worth far more."

"I'm not thinking anything," Mercedes said, far too quickly, then felt the heat rise up her face.

"Liar!" Sam said.

He rose from the chair and shifted closer, and she stopped breathing. Just stopped breathing. Which wasn't good, because, she really needed some air.

And a grip.

Sam leaned into her a little bit, his lips brushing her ear.

"You weren't quite as loud as she was."

She closed her eyes as the heat renewed itself.

"A nice guy wouldn't even bring that up," she said.

He shrugged, plainly saying he wasn't a nice guy. And in fact, he'd never claimed to be one.

Of course, there was no one else the waiting room, but just across the hall at the sign-in desk, were Marley and her mother, neither of them bothering to pretend to be doing anything, other than staring in open, rapt curiosity.

Mercedes turned her back on them.

"I wasn't loud," she whispered.

'Oh good Lord!'

That hadn't been what she'd meant to say at all, but it made Sam smile. A genuine smile, that crinkled the corners of his eyes and softened his face, making him even more heart-stoppingly handsome, if that was possible.

"Yeah," he said. "You were."

Okay, maybe she had been. But she couldn't have helped it.

"It'd been a while," she admitted grudgingly. 'And you really knew what you were doing.'

As Tamara had reminded her, her last boyfriend had been a Seattle accountant, who'd decided she wasn't worth the commute.

That had been last year...a very long, dry year…

Sam's eyes softened, and Mercedes realized, that they weren't clear green, not even close. Lurking just beneath the surface, were layers of other shades, which in turn softened her.

He'd held her like no other, whispered sweet, hot nothings in her ear, as she'd indeed panted and cried out, and begged him, just like the soap opera actress.

Damn...she could still get aroused, at the memory of the strength of his arms, as he'd held her through it, that intoxicating mix of absolute security and wild abandon.

"It'd been a long time for me too," he said, surprising her.

How did a guy who looked as good as he did and exuded pheromones and testosterone, like they were going out of style, not have sex for a 'long time'?

On the screen behind him, the woman was still going at it, and watching her without the sound, made it seem even more X-rated.

"I did not go on like that," Mercedes murmured, and though Sam wisely held his tongue, his expression said it all.

"What, you think I did?" she asked in disbelief.

His gaze flicked to the screen, then back to her face.

"If it helps, you looked way hotter and sounded much better while doing it."

'God!'

She turned away from him and was at the door, before his low, husky voice sounded again.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"Walking away. You should recognize it."

"I'm actually here as a patient."

At the only words in the English language, that could have made her turn around, she did just that.

"You are? Are you sick?"

He pointed to his head.

"Scott told me to come back in ten days, to get the stitches out."

'Scott? He's on a first-name basis with Dr. Scott?'

"Dr. Scott got called to Seattle." She let out a long breath. "But if he left the order, I can remove the stitches for you."

Her mother and Marley were still watching, of course, now joined by additional staff, who apparently, had nothing better to do, than attempt to eavesdrop on her and Mysterious Cute Guy.

Mercedes would lay odds, that this Cute Guy sighting, would go wide and be public by the end of her shift.

Oh well, nothing she could do about that.

"Let's get this over with."

"Is it going to hurt?" he asked.

Mercedes looked at Sam...at his big, tough body...at the way he limped ever so slightly on his left leg, and then into his eyes, which were amused.

He was teasing her.

Well, fine. She could give as good as she got.

"Something tells me you can handle it."

Hey there Trinity, you always put a smile on my face(like so many other reviewers) and no, I'll never get tired. Thanks again.

Stay safe people!