The Cure

"Why am I doing this?" Kendra Abernathy murmured to herself for the hundredth time.

Because you're depressed, that's why. You need therapy.

She sighed in defeat, the truth tasting no better than before. She should be happy. She had a boyfriend, a steady job, a hobby or two, what more could a girl want?

"Zing," she grumbled. Where the heck was the zing in her life? Nothing excited her, nothing made her heart pound, nothing made her want to get out of bed in the morning, except...

She jumped at the sound of the phone on the secretary's desk and dug her fingers into her thighs, crinkling her polyester skirt. Nothing excited her except him.

"The doctor will see you know, Miss Abernathy. I'm sorry you had to wait," the secretary said with a soft smile.

Kendra stood, her dark blue skirt falling to her knees without the slightest hint that she'd crushed it. "That's all right. I understand. He's a very busy man, I mean, doctor." She nervously straightened her glasses.

She turned toward the inner office door as it opened. A soft whoosh of air escaped her lungs at the sight of the very tall, very handsome fair-haired man. Her jaw fell lax, but she managed to keep her mouth closed. His deep blue eyes sparkled as he smiled at her, and she felt like melting.

Again.