Happy Friday everyone.

Thanks to all who have added this story to their favorites, or who are following. It makes my heart swell to know there are people out there reading what I write.

in reply to noone who reviewed chapter one: I'm super happy you enjoyed the first chapter. And you can be pretty sure there will be smut in here eventually. I can't seem to write a fic without it, maybe I should set that as a challenge for myself.

I'm also working on another AU OUAT fic and a potentially huge MC one. I get so excited when I finish a chapter and I desperately want to post everything I write, but you'll be glad to know I restrain myself, because, seriously, some of this is not ready for human eyes.

Just a side note but my work is unbeta'd so be be kind. Let me know what you think so far... please :)

Chapter Two

Emma couldn't remember driving home after the charity auction and she jumped a little when the cool air hit her as the car door was opened.

"Thank you, Darius," she smiled to the doorman of her apartment building, handing him her car keys so her Porsche could be moved to the garage by one of the 24-hour workers the homeowners' association employed.

Darius smiled as he closed the car door and hurried to open the heavy ornate wooden door to the building. "Your husband's a very lucky man," he said to her as she entered.

"Maybe you should remind him," she grinned glibly over her shoulder as she crossed the marble floor to a long bank of elevators.

The doors opened as soon as she stood in front of the car and Emma wondered, not for the first time, how the person inside the elevator knew the instant a passenger was waiting.

"Good evening, Mrs..."

"Good evening, Jack," Emma replied sharply, cutting him off impatiently. She was not usually this abrupt with the cheerful people who eased the transition from home to car, but the evening events had rattled her somewhat and the last thing she wanted to hear was her married name.

Jack immediately detected her mood and just smiled. He knew it had to be bad for this woman to be curt. She was one of the most gracious and friendly in the whole building. Not stuck up like most of the other inhabitants.

They rode in silence up to Emma's home, the gilded doors opening to her foyer with a soft ping of a bell.

"Thank you, Jack," she said distractedly as she exited the car. She wasn't surprised when the elegant mahogany door opened before her and Emma handed off her wrap and purse to Rosario, her housekeeper.

"Was the event a success?" Rosario asked pleasantly, the Hispanic lit to her voice soothing as always to Emma.

"I think so," Emma smiled. "Regina was certainly pleased."

"Miss Mills does like to make money," Rosario returned almost conspiratorially.

"That she does," Emma agreed.

"Shall I prepare a bath?"

"Yes, thank you, Rosario. That's just what I need."

Rosario nodded her head slightly to Emma, something she did to acknowledge a request, almost as if in place of a curtsy, then moved smoothly off to attend to her task.

Emma moved through the vast apartment. The space took a complete floor of an old apartment building on New York's 5th Avenue and, in Emma's opinion, it was far too large for two people. But the property had been purchased as a wedding gift by her husband's grandfather and so this was where they lived. They employed a live-in housekeeper and a chef and Emma was at times, grateful for their presence in the sometimes tome-like home. Her years of longing for space bigger than a shoebox seemed a lifetime ago and sometimes she found herself yearning for those simpler times, not matter how hard her life had been.

She walked closer to the tall windows which faced Central Park and gazed out onto the expanse of the green space below her, bright in the lamp lights that illuminated the area. She closed her eyes and rested her forehead against to cool glass, her hands pressed either side of her head and her mind again playing out the evening.

How could she have been so stupid, so youthful in her thoughts to have allowed that man to kiss her, and even worse, to have been the one to initiate their kiss and to match his passion with her own, something she hadn't allow herself to feel for a long time.

But, man, was that a kiss or what, she thought to herself with a smirk. She couldn't ever recall another man kissing her like that, including her husband. She opened her eyes and the gleam bouncing off her wedding band made her mood sink.

She moved back from the bank of windows and over to a bureau that housed the good whiskey. She hadn't lied when she told Killian she wasn't a big drinker, but there had been a time in her life when she had been, not to the extent of being an alcoholic, but in her younger days, she could certainly handle the hard liquor. She now had a sudden need for some of the amber liquid, and she poured herself a good measure into a crystal stout tumbler.

She swallowed her drink in one gulp, savoring the taste as the liquid burned her throat, and considered another.

"Surely it can't have been that bad," a deep voice filled the room and Emma exhaled slowly before reaching for another glass and placed it next to her own.

"It was typical," she returned as she poured more whiskey into her glass and a good measure into its twin.

"Do you think the gallery raised more than last year?" he asked as he moved to stand next her. She turned and handed over his glass.

"I don't see how it can't have. Regina is an expert at this sort of thing," she smiled, pushing all thoughts of the other man from her mind.

"Well, you know my cousin," her husband smirked.

"Regina will never change, Walsh," she returned as he closed the space between them and kissed her cheek.

Walsh Austins could easily be considered handsome man. His brown hair always had a shine to it and was perfectly placed and his golden eyes shimmered. He was broad and toned, his clothes impeccable and his arrogance almost the size of the Chrysler Building.

Emma watched as he swallowed some of whiskey she had poured of him.

"Shall I expect a large charge on the card?" he smirked to her.

"I was working, Walsh. I wasn't there to shop," she returned. After three years of marriage he still didn't take her work seriously.

"Whatever you say, dear," he patronized, his eyes twinkling.

Rosario stepped into the living area, her smile slipping slightly when she saw her employer had returned.

"Your bath is ready, Mrs. Austins," she said tight-lipped.

"Thank you, Rosario," Emma smiled. She turned and pressed her back against the dark wood of the bureau, her ankles crossing gracefully, as she watched Walsh moved through the space to settle himself into a large leather chair.

"How was your meeting with Jacobson?" she asked, hoping to keep him from asking more questions about her evening.

"Jacobson is moron," he griped. "He refuses to acknowledge if he doesn't submit to a merger, Austins Industries is just going to swallow his company anyway," Walsh smirked to his wife. "My father always gets what he wants."

Emma schooled her emotions, keeping her features free from any physical response to his words. She knew how true Walsh's words were. After all, she was living proof of that. She was well aware of Walsh's gaze on her, and his sardonic grin as he swirled the liquid in his glass. His eyes never left her as he swallowed the last of his drink and Emma fought hard to keep her body from shuddering in disgust.

He stood quickly and returned to her side, setting his tumbler back on the smooth surface of the bureau.

"I have some work I need to complete so don't disturb me," Walsh ordered as he turned to leave the living space, obviously heading for his vast home office.

Yeah, because that's something I want to do, Emma thought as she watched him stride out the room. She vaguely wondered if Walsh could smell Killian's cologne on her, because that's all that had filled her nostrils since she had left the gallery. His scent clinging to her dress.

"Oh, Emma," Walsh paused before the headed down the hallway, turning back to face her. "Don't go to sleep. I will be fucking you later."

"As romantic as ever," she mumbled to herself and gulped down the last of her whiskey.

…

The sharp rap on the door startled Emma and she lifted her head from her work, calling the person to enter.

The heavy oak door opened swiftly and a man entered carried a heavy looking package. He wore one of the long, brown, lab coat style work coats the employees wore in storage and Emma was surprise to see him bring the large object into her office at Gold Antiquities.

"What's this, Drew?" she asked.

"It was delivered this morning, Ms. Swan. With strict instructions for yourself to open it."

"Thank you," she smiled as she rounded her desk, trying to remember if she was expecting a delivery of some art work that needed appraising.

Drew placed the package on the large easel Emma kept in her office for such things. "Shall I wait?" he asked, stepping back.

"No, its fine," Emma returned cordially and Drew nodded before he slipped from the room.

She felt a little giddy at the thought of what could be underneath the brown wrapping as she cautiously slipped her paper knife under the fasting and pulled the covering free.

She gasped as she recognized the painting as soon as it was revealed. It was the painting from the auction a few nights ago. The one by Killian, the one he had tried to gift to her instead of sell.

Her eyebrows furrowed a little. She was sure this had been auctioned off, in fact, she remembered specifically noting it had been bought and not pulled from the sale. Her fingers danced over the dark wood frame before she noticed a folded piece of paper tucked slightly into the frame in the bottom right corner.

She pulled it free gently and opened it to find a hand written note, the writing distinctly male and rough.

Don't worry. It's bought and paid for. I bought it myself, for you. I know that's kind of crazy, right? An artist buying his own work, but you are the only one who understands it almost as much as I do. Until we meet again, Killian.

Emma couldn't help the smile from spreading across her lips as she brought the paper to her lips, inhaling deeply, imagining Killian's cologne emanated from its smooth surface.

"So," a gruff British voice called, and Emma spun quickly around to see the man himself leaning casually against her open door, one leg crossing the other and his arms folding across the wide expanse of his chest. "You wanna get some lunch with me, Swan?"

He smirked at her surprised look as she just stared at him for a moment.

"Don't tell me," he said as he finally entered her office. "You were just being polite and you hate it really."

"No...No. I love it," Emma stammered turning her head back to the painting. "But really, I can't..."

"You can't accept it?" he said for her, and Emma was again surprised at how close he suddenly was, standing behind her and whispering the words into her ear.

"Really," she returned, turning her head slightly to catch his eyes over her shoulder. "I can't."

"You can and you will, because it's a gift, love. And you will upset me if you refuse. And then I will not be able to paint and Regina will lose money at the gallery and it will be all your fault."

Emma narrowed her eyes a little at his reasoning. "Your logic is a little weird, Mr. Jones."

"Killian," he ordered softly.

She nodded as her gaze involuntarily flickered down to his lips, remembering how soft they were, how they'd moved against hers and longing too much to feel them again. She lifted her eyes to his to see his own on her lips and she smirked.

She stepped closer to the painting, lifting it from the easel and moving across the room to a long wall. "I think it would look best here," she commented tilting her head slightly in imagination.

Killian crossed and took the painting from her, moving to the other side of the room adjacent to her desk. "I think it will look better here, that way every time you look up you will see it and be reminded of me."

Emma ducked her head, hoping she wasn't blushing because she hardly needed a painting to remind her of this handsome man who invaded her mind at every chance he could.

Killian braced the frame on the top of the sideboard there and stood back and Emma was drawn to his side, noting it did look good there.

"Perfect," she whispered.

Killian turned to her. "So, lunch, Swan?

Emma hesitated a second, her thumb rubbing along her wedding band. "Well, it's the least I could do really."

"Damn straight," Killian grinned. "I'm shit broke now!"

…

A half hour later, Emma and Killian were seated in an old time diner far from Emma's work place and off the beaten track and she watched as Killian took a large bite of a thick, juicy burger.

Killian grinned to her, chewing on the meat, as she shook her head and looked back down to her Mediterranean salad, her fork spearing a slice of cucumber and a chuck of feta cheese.

"That stuff will kill you, ya know," she commented before lifting her fork to her mouth.

"Probably," Killian returned after he swallowed. "But at least I'll die happy and with a full stomach. You can't tell me that's filling."

"Of course it is," Emma retorted.

"Yeah, well, I don't believe you," Killian shot back. "Rabbit food!"

"It's healthy and delicious," Emma bantered back. "And you don't know what you're missing."

She speared more of her food and lifted her fork to Killian. "Try," she coaxed.

Killian looked at her as though she was insane. He didn't eat salads on principle. He just didn't trust green food. His eyes caught the mischievous glint in her green orbs and before he knew what he was doing, he opened his mouth to accept her eating utensil.

She grinned as he munched thoughtfully and swallowed quickly. "Yep, tastes like shit," he grumbled.

Emma lifted an eyebrow. "You know that from experience?"

"Metaphorically," he shot back and then flashed her a half smile, and Emma's breath caught a little at the sexy grin he offered her.

He offered her his burger and Emma looked at it skeptically.

"Have you ever had a burger before, Princess," he teased at her look of disgust.

"Of course I have," she shot back. "I worked at a diner since I was 16, the free food an added bonus."

He waved his burger at her again, and Emma huffed as she set her fork against her plate and took the offered food from him. She grinned at him as she took a huge bite of the bun and meat before handed it back.

She chewed slowly and closed her eyes with bliss as the burger juices hit her throat. She'd lived on burgers while working at the diner, but she had to admit, it had been a while since she had eaten one, burgers not being the food her in-laws thought acceptable.

She moaned in spite of herself and her eyes snapped open at Killian's soft chuckle.

"Been a while, huh?"

She smiled at him as she nodded, lifting her napkin to dab her mouth delicately. "That's a good burger."

"I said you were crazy to order that salad," he informed her before taking another bite.

Emma looked down at her healthy meal choice, before pushing her plate aside and reaching over to bring his closer to her, stealing a few of his fries and popping them into her mouth before he could protest.

"Feels good to walk on the wild-side?" Killian smirked at him.

Emma shot him a look, her mind screaming if you only knew before she schooled her features, her need to keep her walls in place, to keep her public persona in check, trampling down any real emotions. "I will so be regretting this later when I'm trying to work it off at the gym," she mumbled around a mouthful of his fries.

"I know better ways to work out then paying for some fancy gym," Killian grinned to her, his blue eyes twinkling and an eyebrow lifting as if in challenge.

Emma swallowed her fries nervously. Of course he would bring their conversation around to sex. Most of their interactions so far have had something to do with sex in some shape or form. After the kiss they had shared at the auction, Emma had found herself aroused and unfulfilled. Later that night, with Walsh pushing into her with absolute no regard to her or her needs, she couldn't stop her mind from wandering to Killian and Killian's lips. The feel of his body pressed closely to hers, his hand on her thigh and the heat she could feel through the thin material of her dress. It helped take the pain away from what Walsh was doing to her body. Of course, he left her hanging as he did on every occasion they were intimate since the night of their wedding, but this night was different, this time she couldn't ignore the need within her.

"Someone's got a dirty mind," Killian taunted.

Emma just looked at him as she took a sip of her water, hoping to God she wasn't blushing as much as she thought she was.

"So, you gonna take advantage of my most generous offer of my time and my body." Killian was teasing her, she knew it.

"I…" she took another drink. "I'm still married."

"And?" Killian questioned.

Could she do this? Could she have a relationship with this man that included sex? Could she break her vow to her husband and to God? Emma looked hard at the man before her. He was the complete opposite of Walsh. Rugged in a way she found very handsome, a way that appealed to her deep within her soul. He still wore a scruff of facial hair and, while she usually preferred a clean shaven face, on him it looked right, looked great in fact. His hair was a little wild but maintained and she vividly remember the way it felt when she had threaded her fingertip through it.

His clothes were more casual than what he wore when they first met. Dark jeans, a black button-down shirt with the top three buttons unfastened, giving her a good glimpse of his dark chest hair, and a leather jacket which was hung on the back of his chair. Casually rugged, Emma thought to herself with a small smile.

Emma thought it was time for a change of topic. "So, how long have you had this painting gig?"

Killian laughed softly and Emma berated herself for being so obvious in wanting to change the conversation.

They spent the next hour just talking. They discuss his painting, her work at the auction house, the economy, the plight of the black rhino, and the fact Killian was deeply disturbed by Jell-O.

The time flew by and before Emma knew it she was again outside the Gold Antiquities building.

"So, you gonna meet me in the park this evening?" he asked.

"I can't," Emma answered automatically as she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

"Can't, or won't," Killian challenged. After a beat, he continued. "Come dressed for a work out," he added cryptically with a wink.

Emma struggled to come up with a solid reason why she couldn't. Couldn't meet him later, couldn't fall under his spell, and most definitely could not have a physical relationship with him.

"6 O'clock by the Balto statue," he instructed.

"The Balto statue?"

"Yeah, the big dog," he clarified with a grin.

"I know what it is," she returned his smile with a roll of her eyes.

"Okay, then, love," Killian finished with a nod of his head.

"I don't know if this is a good idea," Emma sighed.

"Of course it is. It's just a work out, it's not against the law," Killian reasoned, his sly smirk tugging at something within her, as he walked away from her backwards his arms spread wide.

"If I don't make it…" Emma started.

"Oh, you'll make it, Swan," Killian called out. Before she could say anything else, he turned blended into the New York populace.

…

Emma paced before the large windows in her bedroom, her gaze drifting out the clear glass and toward Central Park every few seconds. It was 5.15 and she was dressed in a pair of comfortable black capri yoga pants, purple sports bra, and a fitted red tank. She looked back to her running shoes where they sat by the large bed. She was still unsure what to do.

She exhaled deeply as she stalked across the room and snatched her cell from her bedside table. She quickly scrolled through her contacts before she found the name she was looking for and hit dial. She resumed pacing while waiting for her call to be answered.

"Emma!" a cheerful voice call. "It's been forever, how are you?"

"I'm good, Mary-Margaret," Emma rushed. "I need some advice."

"Oh," Mary-Margaret said and Emma could hear the deflation in her voice. She could almost see her friend shake her head slight before continuing, her voice perky again. "What can I do to help?"

"Well, there's this guy," Emma started, before she explained everything to Mary-Margaret.

"So what do you need from me?" Mary-Margaret asked.

"Tell me what to do," Emma answered, a slight whine to her voice. "Should I meet with his guy or not?"

"Emma, I can't tell you what to do," Mary-Margaret said softly.

"What would you do?"

"I'm happily married," Mary-Margaret reasoned. "I would never be in your situation. I told you from the get-go not to marry Walsh."

"I know," Emma sighed. "I just…"

"You just what?"

"I just want…something, I want to feel something."

"Emma," Mary-Margaret started cautiously, "why did you marry Walsh?"

Emma stalled. They'd had this conversation so many times over the past three years, and still Emma could not tell her best friend the real reason she had anchored herself to Walsh. Why she was trapped in a marriage she didn't want and why she could never leave him.

"It seemed like a good idea at the time," she finally mumbled, her hand absentmindedly brushing at no existence fluff on her pants.

"You don't love him, Emma," Mary-Margaret stated matter-of-factly. "The fact you are thinking about meeting with a man you are obviously attracted to tells me that. You should just leave Walsh."

"I can't," Emma whispered, feeling tears pool in her eyes.

"Why can't you? Emma, what does he have over you?"

Emma could hear the concern in her friend's voice, the same tone she heard whenever they had this conversation because they'd talked about this on more than one occasion.

"Mary-Margaret," Emma sighed, "I didn't call for one of your lectures, not everyone finds their true love the first try."

"I just want you to be happy," Mary-Margaret said.

"Then tell me what to do," Emma whined.

Mary-Margaret sighed. "Follow your heart, Emma. That's all I can say."

Emma smiled into her cell. "Thanks, Mary-Margaret."

"Hey, let's have lunch Thursday. I miss you," Mary-Margaret stated.

"I'd like that. 1pm at the Russian Tea Rooms," Emma offered.

"Make it Tony's Diner and you have a date."

"Okay, fine," Emma ginned again.

"See ya then," Mary-Margaret concluded.

"Yep."

"Have fun, Emma," then her friend was gone.

Emma exhaled as she tucked her cell in to the snug pocket of her pants. She looked out the window again for a couple of heart beats, then she moved quickly through the room, picking up her running shoes as she headed out, her mind finally made up.

…