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through her and she quickly dismissed it. Who was she to be jealous over some woman she didn’t even know—over a man she knew even less.  It was ridiculous.
    She cleared her throat to get his attention, startling when he snapped to attention and pinned her to the spot with a blazing stare full of unbridled rage.  “What the fucking fuck are you doing in my house?” He charged towards her, temper in every step.  Shaking she hurried to back up and put distance between them as he ate up the space between them in seconds.
    “I—I brought coffee,” she explained, eyes wide as saucers.  He reached her side and grabbed hold of her upper arm, dragging her to the door.  Her hands shook and coffee sloshed onto his floor as he pulled her along behind him like a rag doll, not stopping or slowing down.
    “Fuck your fucking coffee.  Get out.  This is my house.  You don’t belong here, your job is to work the desk in the warehouse, not come snooping around.”  He was panting, his nostrils flaring as he barked out his words at her.  She stared up at him, terrified and fascinated at the same time.  He was clearly furious with her, but underneath that was an extreme sadness.  He was grieving; and that grief was threatening to break him.  Cautiously, she laid her one hand over his, feeling a spark of electricity when their skin touched.
    “Sam.  Who is she?” she asked, sympathy evident in her tone.  He flinched as though she’d slapped him and just when she thought he was going to tell her, he shut back down.  He pushed her own the door onto the porch.
    “Get to the warehouse.  No more fucking around or you’re gonna get a late start and I have emails that need to be sent right away.”  He slammed the door in her face.
    At her desk, Emma shook her head, clearing away the memory of the run-in they’d had all those weeks before.  Neither had mentioned it, although she was hoping that it wouldn’t be long before he would confide in her.  She found herself watching him when he wasn’t looking…there was a definite attraction between them; something about him called to her.  Whether it was the demons he was so clearly fighting or just his overly sexy physique; she wasn’t sure, but she knew she wanted to find out more about him.  To be let in and trusted with his darkest secrets.  Every time their eyes met, she felt as though she could glimpse into his soul, the damage and heartache he was carrying around was clearly starting to take a toll on him.  If he didn’t let someone in soon, he was bound to break. Her own heart ached for him and she was determined to help him even if the stupid man couldn’t see that he needed it.
    Sam couldn’t take the way Emma looked at him with those big blue eyes of hers.  When he wasn’t wanting to snap at her for looking at him with such sympathy, he was imagining bending her over his workbench and fucking her into oblivion.  Thank fuck she’d given up wearing those tight little skirts that molded to her delectable ass.  If he’d had to see her bending over once more in one of those fucking skirts, he would have lost all self-control.  As it was, his hand had been getting more of a workout than it should have been every night after he finished up in the shop.
    That morning when she’d showed up unannounced in his house, catching him off guard, he’d been so fucking furious.  No one had ever seen him let out his grief the way he was that morning thinking of Hailey.  Ironically, the only reason he’d even had that photo out was because of Emma.  Guilt over his reaction to her was weighing on him; he wanted her.  That sexy little body wrapped up in the exterior of a sweet woman was calling to him.  He didn’t know how much longer he was going to be able to deny himself the desire he felt for her.  He was hyper aware of every move she made, if she got up to use the bathroom, he wondered where she was going.  And then when he realized, he wondered what