Our first co-production! We hope you will all like it. It sure was fun doing this together.

Of course these characters don’t belong to us (except for the psych.. she is ours! ;-)). We just dusted them off and played with them.

This story is rated: R

The Nanny and the Funky Psychiatrist

by

HB, Juupke and ShiShi
(shishi79@gmail.com)

"Are you serious?" Fran asked Dr. Miller for a second time, still not believing what her therapist had just said.

The grey haired man before her leaned back in his seat while he slowly nodded. "Yes Fran, I am serious." His voice was the same one he used when he would tell Fran that she was focussing too much on Mr. Sheffield. There were times she could actually strangle him and his calmness altogether. She came here weekly in need of help and advice but all he did lately was repeating the same sentence over and over again: "Fran, you should stop focussing on getting married."

Only this time he had said something completely different and Fran didn’t like it one bit.

"I don’t think this therapy is getting us anywhere. I would like to transfer you to my new partner."

Fran let out a laugh. "Transfer me? Do I have a say in this?"

Dr. Miller didn’t laugh or smile, he seldom did. He always had the same calm expression on his face. "Of course you have a say in this, Fran. But I strongly recommend you to try it for once. This partner of mine is young, fresh and very professional."

"And… single?" Fran asked hopefully. It was half a joke and half the truth. She was desperate after all and a little diversion wouldn’t be bad for her. Mr. Sheffield hadn’t been exactly attentive towards her lately.

"Well, not exactly and… it’s a she." Still he didn’t smile, although his voice showed some amusement.

"A woman?" Fran asked. She let the idea sink in. This could be good. She had always wondered how Dr. Miller could help her. Sure, he seemed wise and experienced but had he ever been in love? Did he even have emotions? How could he ever understand how she felt?

A woman might be able to understand her better and help her to finally turn Mr. Sheffield around. That was eventually the point of going to therapy after all, although she wisely kept that particular reason to herself.

"Okay," Fran said slowly. "I might give it a try."

"Good!" Dr. Miller said a bit too enthusiastically for Fran’s taste. Since when was every man desperate to get rid of her? "Next week, same place, same time; my assistant will introduce you to your new therapist."

This conversation kept replaying itself in Fran’s mind while she walked home. Somehow she didn’t feel like taking a cab today. She needed the cool New York air to clear her mind.

Was it just her or did it seem like Dr. Miller was quite desperate to turn her over to his new colleague? And what did he mean by fresh? Did this woman just leave school and was she some kind of test case? Maybe she shouldn’t have agreed so quickly.

But on the other hand, six months with Dr. Miller hadn’t exactly changed much, had they? In the beginning she had been thrilled by his insightful comments and his calm reasoning but looking back it didn’t seem to have had any obvious results. And as the years were counting she seemed to get a bit more desperate for results. The last time she checked the mirror Fran didn’t see herself getting any younger.

What if she would take after her mother?

This thought had hit her a few times last week. Although she loved her mother dearly, she wasn’t really keen on starting to look like her any time soon.

Fran shook her head. What was it with these depressing thoughts lately? She could be so cheerful on the outside but she felt so incredibly down on the inside. Ever since that whole ordeal with Nigel she hadn’t been sure of her own feelings anymore.

She still didn’t know how she could have ever decided to even go to that ship? Was she that desperate? Sure, Nigel was a good catch and he might be more than any man she would ever be able to hook up with, but how could she decide to marry someone she wasn’t in love with?

Nigel had been good fun and one heck of a kisser, but had she become so easy to accept a marriage proposal after one fun night out? Not only that, but also a proposal from the brother of the guy she was actually in love with?

Could this even become more like a ‘Days of our lives’ storyline?

When Mr. Sheffield had carried her up the stairs she had known for sure that he was the guy she actually wanted to end up with.

But a week later she hadn’t acted on that thought. Mr. Sheffield had been so enthralled by her tattoo that he had literally begged her to come and take a swim with him late at night. It was clear to see what his intentions were. And what did she do? Strip down to her tiny bikini and pull him into the pool with her? No, not Fran Fine; she had been so scared after a talk with a 10-year old about changes, so she had opted for a game of table tennis instead.

How could she ever accuse Mr. Sheffield about back peddling while she couldn’t be clear on her own feelings herself?

Of course she had discussed this with Dr. Miller but he had just listened and nodded, asking her what she felt at that moment. Wasn’t it his job to tell her how she felt? If she knew how she felt she wouldn’t be sitting on that couch after all.

Fran was still deep in thought as she entered the Sheffield house, the place that had been her home for almost four years now. And right there, in the middle of the living room, stood the man to whom she had dedicated many therapy sessions. He was casually leafing through his mail, seemingly oblivious to how she felt. ‘Damn him’, she thought for a second.

"Ah Miss Fine, there you are!" Maxwell said enthusiastically when she closed the door. "How was therapy today?"

Fran put her coat in the closet before turning back to him. Someone seemed to be in good spirits. Maybe he was in the mood to play a little game.

"Therapy was okay," she started. "Dr. Miller wants to transfer me to a new therapist."

She watched how he put his mail down and folded his arms in front of his chest. He was smiling broadly. "He can’t stand the stories about your mother, aunt Cookie, uncle Stanley and those hundreds cousins of you anymore eh? I have been thinking of transferring you myself. The Thompsons just had their fourth baby; they might need an extra hand."

She turned from him. "You wouldn’t last a day without me, remember when I played Juliet and the house was a mess?"

She didn’t see him while she walked over to the kitchen but she knew she had hit a spot by the way he hesitated before answering. "Well, it wasn’t that much of a mess and…" he followed her into the kitchen "… anyway, why will you be getting a new doctor? Is Dr. Miller retiring? He could easy do so considering the price I pay per hour."

"Nope." Fran took some orange juice from the fridge and poured herself a glass. "Want some?"

Maxwell shook his head. "Come on, don’t be so mysterious."

"Don’t you find that sexy?" She winked playfully at him.

A sigh left Maxwell’s mouth as he shook his head again. "Very sexy Miss Fine, but you don’t need to be mysterious for that." He leaned over the counter opposite of her. "I find a woman who just tells me why her therapist chooses to transfer her to another one much sexier." He winked back at her.

Fran felt her cheeks redden. What was it lately? Some time ago she was the one to make him blush and stammer. These days he was doing it to her and instead of grabbing his face and just kiss him for all she was worth, she didn’t know what to do.

She so needed this female therapist! Mentally she slapped herself and went back to the game she was playing.

"Well, since I am just a young and vibrant woman," Fran said taking a sip of her juice in between, "And he is an older man. He just can’t keep up with me."

Maxwell took a careful look at her. "So…"

"He signed me over to his young and fresh partner. He thinks this younger doctor might be able to understand me better. You know, understand my needs."

She could see exactly what went through his mind now. Oy, this was just too easy sometimes. "And I don’t mind it at all. Who am I to refuse a young and talented doctor? I’ve wanted one all my life."

Maxwell traced the outline of the counter with his finger, his eyes following this movement. Without looking at her he answered, "Well, if you like putting yourself in the hands of some inexperienced kid, you should do so. But I don’t really feel like paying for this experiment."

"Hmmm, sorry I think I lost you after you said ‘hands’. You make it sound even more appealing than I already imagined."

She heard an irritated moan slip from his throat. "Miss Fine, I can’t say I’m happy with this development. I chose Dr. Miller for you because he is the best in town and I don’t like him just signing you over to this rookie. I think I’ll give him a call."

Fran tried hard to keep her laughter inside. She just loved to make him jealous. It was such an easy way to make him show his feelings for her.

She walked around the counter and patted him on his shoulder. "Come on Mr. Sheffield. Let’s just see how it works out. If I’m not satisfied with her, you can call Dr. Miller."

If one could hear brains working, Fran was sure she would hear his. She picked up her glass and started heading for the living room.

"Her?" he finally spat out.

Fran turned with a smile plastered on her face. "Yeah, a she. Why?"

Maxwell put his hands in his pockets. "Well…. No, nothing. Maybe it’s not so bad to get a new therapist, with a different approach."

With a chuckle she shook her head and headed for the living room. The man could be so predictable sometimes!

*********

Exactly one week later Fran arrived at Dr. Miller’s practice for the appointment with her mystery therapist. As she entered the waiting room she immediately noticed Dr. Miller’s assistant sitting behind the desk.

"Good morning," Fran said as she walked up to the woman. "I’m here for an appointment with Dr. Miller’s partner."

"Ah, good morning, Miss Fine," the assistant replied friendly. "Your therapist is running a little late this morning, but I’m expecting her to be here any minute."

She then gestured towards the sitting area in the room. "Please have a seat while you’re waiting."

"All right." Fran did as she was told and picked up the latest issue of Cosmopolitan from a nearby table before she settled on the sofa. She opened the magazine and her eye fell on one particular article. How to get the man you want, read the title. She scanned the piece and snorted aloud. The writer of this article made it sound so easy: find your prey, then attack. She’d tried to do just that. Oh how she’d tried to make him see they belonged together. But to no avail. They were still taking one step forward and two steps back. Hopefully her female therapist would shine some new light on things.

Just then a tall woman barged in, causing Fran to look up from her magazine. The woman was carrying a large red backpack and her body was wrapped in a bright orange coat.

"Morning, Maria! MTA had me running late again," she explained as she rushed into the office next to the waiting room.

‘This can’t be my therapist,’ was Fran’s first thought. The woman she’d just seen didn’t look like a psychiatrist, especially not next to the stuffy Dr. Miller, and she was more lifelike than any therapist she’d ever seen. Fran suddenly remembered how Dr. Miller had pointed out to her that his partner was young and fresh.

The woman appeared from the office, having replaced her orange coat with a long white one, and held out her hand to Fran. "Hi there, I’m Dr. Svensson. You must be Fran."

Fran stared into the friendly face with crimson cheeks. "Yes, that’s me."

This woman was definitely the opposite of Dr. Miller. Her smile and cheerful voice were much more appealing than his expressionless face.

"Do come in." Dr. Svensson held the door open for her to enter. That’s when Fran noticed how tall the woman really was. Not that she herself could be called a tall person, but usually she was able to hide her short length by wearing high-heeled shoes. However, her stilletto heels were no match for her new doctor; maybe she was European?

"Make yourself comfortable." Dr. Svensson smiled and gestured towards a black leather chair.

Fran sat down and looked around. "No sofa here, eh?

"No, I have found that being anaylsed while lying on a couch makes some of my patients a bit uncomfortable. So I opted for a nice leather chair." The doctor winked, quickly readjusting her ponytail.

She then picked up some files from her desk and briefly leafed through the pages. Grabbing a notebook and pen from her backpack, she spoke again. "Firstly, I’d like to apologise for my late arrival, those dang trains just never ride on time."

"That’s all right, I know how it feels," Fran replied.

Dr. Svensson paused for a short moment and looked Fran straight in the eye. "So Fran, why do you need therapy?"

The direct question startled Fran a bit. "Didn’t you discuss that with Dr. Miller?"

Dr. Svensson nodded and wrote something down. "Yes, but I’d much rather hear it from you," she explained.

Although Fran found the question rather dubious, she decided to answer. "Well, about six months ago I met the guy I thought I was gonna marry…. Turned out he was my cousin." She laughed her trade-mark laugh which caused Dr. Svensson to raise her brow. "Of course this wasn’t my first failure when it comes to relationships. I once dated a tree surgeon because I was desperate and my ex-boyfriend Danny had so much hair you would mistake him for a chimp. I’ve been wanting to get married ever since I was a little girl, but I can’t seem to find the right guy."

"Do you really have to write everything down?" Fran inquired as she saw Dr. Svensson writing, frankly feeling as if she was being analysed. Dr. Miller had always sat and listened, sometimes asking questions, but never had she felt as if she was being studied or questioned. She felt rather skeptical towards this approach of Dr. Svensson.

Dr. Svensson already sensed Fran’s reluctance. "In order to help you I really have to register everything. It’s all for your own good, Fran," she encouraged. Dr. Svensson knew patients were usually scared by her direct way of questioning and in addition to that Fran had been treated by her docile partner for six months, but her own method had proven to be very succesful.

"Anyway," Fran continued. "Mr. Sheffield wanted to send me to a therapist to make me stop focussing on marriage. But that was really to make me stop reminding him of ‘The Thing’; ya know, when he told me that he loved me in Paris and then took it back. So he sent me to Dr. Miller, who supposedly is the best in town and Dr. Miller transfered me to you," Fran ended her babbling.

"And you’re Mr. Sheffield’s nanny?" Dr. Svensson asked while writing down what Fran had just told her.

"Nanny. Play thing. Toy," Fran huffed.

Dr. Svensson stopped writing and put down her notebook. It was time to see if her new patient would trust her.

"Fran, this isn’t really about getting married is it?"

Astonishment registered on Fran’s face as she stared back into the doctor’s piercing green eyes.

Dr. Svensson knew.

She had always put on a show about obsessing with marriage for Dr. Miller, not feeling comfortable sharing her real feelings with a man who didn’t understand her. But it was just a cover-up for her real problem: her fragile, yet undefined relationship with Mr. Sheffield. Of course, getting married was her ultimate goal, but that wasn’t eating at her 24/7. It wasn’t gnawing at her, driving her crazy. Fran hesitated for a moment, but then decided to trust her new doctor.

"No..." she replied softly, looking down at her hands. "It isn’t just about getting married."

Silence filled the room for a few moments. Having dropped her cheerful ‘I don’t care attitude’, Fran finally croaked,

"I just don’t know what to do anymore."

The sentence sounded helpless, even to her own ears. But hell, that was how she felt lately; lost. And she had no clue what to do about it.

"We could be so good together, but he still refuses to make any form of commitment to me. He keeps giving mixed messages; one moment he pushes me away, the next moment he’s all over me. And I accuse him of not being clear about his feelings, while I, myself, have never told him how I really feel about him. Maybe I should take matters in my own hands, but I’m scared…."

"And why is that?" Dr. Svensson chipped in.

"I’m afraid he’ll reject me and I can’t take that anymore," Fran answered sadly.

She hadn’t let anyone know how deep all of this affected her, how she hurt inside, and it felt good to finally pour out her heart.

Dr. Svensson never once interrupted her during the rest of their conversation; she just listened.

Fran felt like finally someone understood.

"I think that will be all for today," Dr. Svensson concluded after a little while, folding her hands in her lap.

"We’re done already?" Fran was used to Dr. Miller’s one-hour sessions. "But I’ve only been in here for 20 minutes."

"I have all the information I need for now." Dr. Svensson paused and briefly put her hand on top of Fran’s. "Thank you for trusting me, Fran."

Fran looked her in the eyes, silently thanking her.

"How about we meet again next week, same time, same place?"

"Fine with me," Fran replied.

"And about Mr. Sheffield...." Dr. Svensson brought her pen to her mouth, pondering her next words. "Why don’t you bring him to therapy with you next week?"

"Really?" Fran asked, surprise written all over her face. "Why?"

"That’s the only way I can observe your relationship and your way of communicating myself. You might suit my therapy program very well."

Fran smiled with relief; maybe this would finally get them somewhere.

*********

"Oy, how am I gonna ask this?" Fran stood in front of the wooden door which led to his office. This must be one of the hardest things she ever had had to ask him.

Alright, she had faced some hot fires in this exact same office; telling him that she had been robbed of that ancient Shakespearian document, or asking him if Yetta could temporarily move in or that time when she had blabbed about Cher staying in their house.

But all that seemed like a walk in the park now. She really knew him well enough to know that he was not the type for therapy. And how should she explain the reason why he had to tag along? ‘Because I poured my heart out about how much I love you but how we just don’t seem able to get it right.’ Yeah, that would really get him enthusiastic about the idea.

She shook her head and took a deep breath before opening the door. She’d just see how this would work out.

"Oh, hi there, Miss Fine." His voice sounded like he was in a good mood. That might help.

"How was therapy? Is this new doctor any good?" he asked leaning back in his chair while Fran hopped onto her usual spot on his desk.

"Yes, it was very interesting," Fran said smilingly. "She has a great understanding of things."

Maxwell didn’t know why, but something in Fran’s eyes gave him the shivers. He suddenly wanted to know just what she had discussed with this new doctor.

"So…" he started drumming his pen nervously on the edge of his desk. "What did you talk about?"

Yes, now he knew for sure there was something lurking beneath the surface. Fran first looked at her nails before rubbing her hands together. She seemed nervous and searching for her words.

"Well… ya know, the usual; why am I not married? When does my mother move to Boca…." It seemed to Maxwell she wanted to add something to that list but she swallowed her words at the last moment.

Maxwell smiled at her, leaning forward over his papers and rearranging them without even knowing what he was doing. He didn’t trust the look in her eyes; like she was going to ask him something.

"Good… good," he muttered. "I’m happy she’s good. It seems like money well spent then."

Suddenly he felt a finger lifting his chin towards her. He raised an eyebrow.

"She wants to meet you," Fran stated, still holding her finger under is chin.

Max swallowed. "Why?"

He watched how she pulled back her finger to straighten her skirt with her hands. "She just wants to meet someone who knows me well. See how I interact with people and all." If he wouldn’t know her this well, he would actually believe this explanation. But with Fran Fine nothing was really that simple.

"Couldn’t you ask your mother or Val?" he shot back. It was actually quite a clever question.

Fran snorted. "Yeah right, exposing this young woman to ma or Val? They have enough issues to fill a lifetime of therapy. I still want her to focus on me, so I thought about the sanest and most balanced person around me. Naturally I came to you."

She held her breath. Usually this kind of flattering did the trick. But he’d seemed a bit suspicious from the start. Maybe he might not fall for it now.

"Well," Maxwell answered, staring into nowhere, pondering this statement.

She had a point there, Maxwell thought. She had once taken her mother to Dr. Miller and that hadn’t been a success. He would be able to fill in this therapist about Miss Fine, in a clear and objective way. Maybe he was being too paranoid and did she really just ask this favour as a friend.

"I guess I could do that. After all you’ve done for my family this seems like the least I can do for you," Maxwell answered.

"Oh thank you, Mr. Sheffield!" she exclaimed while hopping off the desk and throwing her arms around him.

"Yes, yes, my pleasure," he managed to say while almost being suffocated. "But just this one time Miss Fine." He tried to keep a steady voice while inhaling her scent and feeling her arms around him and her body pressed up to his. If she would continue this he might need to book a therapy session for himself.

"Of course, just this once," Fran answered as she released him. She still couldn’t believe how easy this had been.

She was actually looking forward to next week. She wondered how Dr. Svensson would deal with Mr. Sheffield and all his repression, even if the session wouldn’t be about him.

*********

"Tell me again Miss Fine, why did I agree to this?" Maxwell muttered while they were sitting in the waiting area.

Fran patted his leg and smiled. "Because you wanted to support me, and I’m very thankful for that."

He sighed. "Yes, and I inconveniently had forgotten I had a mountain of work this day. Miss Babcock was not pleased."

"Ah well, she never is," Fran joked, trying to get him in good spirits. He had been quite reluctant to come with her today. Thankfully she had been able to hold him to his promise.

Maxwell grinned. "Niles would be proud of you."

He tried his best to relax. He really didn’t want to do this. He hated himself for having agreed to join Miss Fine during a therapy session. She just knew the exact way to wrap him around her little finger and today he wasn’t really happy about that. God knows what this shrink woman wanted to know about him. He wasn’t very keen on being turned inside out. Even though Miss Fine had assured him the session would be about her only, he didn’t really feel like talking to a psychiatrist. He feared he would be secretly analysed himself.

He looked down at his watch. Where was this doctor anyway?

Just at that moment a tall woman in a bright jacket ran past them. Her cheeks were red and her hair was tousled. She made a dash for the office and closed the door.

Maxwell shook his head. "The kind of nutcases you find in places like this.…"

"Uhm, Mr. Sheffield," Fran said, "That was Dr. Svensson."

Before Maxwell could answer, the office door opened and the woman he had just seen taking a rather mad sprint, stood before them in a white coat over her jeans and sweater. Her hair seemed re-organised and pulled back in a tail. Her smile was bright; she actually didn’t look like a psychiatrist at all.

"Mr. Sheffield and Miss Fine, please come in. I’m sorry about being late again," she said warmly.

"Trains again?" Fran asked.

"Yes, don’t get me started on the MTA." Dr. Svensson rolled her eyes over that statement.

Maxwell followed Fran into the office and shook hands with Dr. Svensson. He felt rather short opposite her. She seemed even taller than he was.

"Please take a chair," she said.

Maxwell and Fran both took a chair next to each other. They were rather large and comfortable. Maxwell had expected a sofa and was happy this doctor didn’t follow the standards in that area.

"So, Mr. Sheffield, can I call you Maxwell?" she asked, seating herself opposite them with a pen and notepad.

"Yes, of course," Maxwell answered, trying to find the best composure for this situation. He liked to come across as sane as possible.

"Alright, how are you Maxwell?"

Automatically he answered, "Fine, doctor."

She nodded and wrote something down. "What does ‘fine’ mean to you?" she asked looking seriously at him.

Maxwell looked around, trying to avoid her stare. What kind of question was that?

"Uhm…" he started, trying to find the right words.

Suddenly the doctor started laughing. "Don’t answer that, it’s a joke."

Maxwell raised his eyebrow, a doctor was joking?

"You don’t have to be nervous Maxwell. This is all about Fran. I could see you were afraid of being analysed but really you don’t have to be. You are here to help Fran and that’s very nice of you. So, just relax a little. I won’t bite." She smiled broadly while saying the last sentence.

Maxwell felt his muscles relax but cursed himself for being so transparent.

"I’m happy both of you are here," she started. "I’d like to get to know a little more about Fran and her surroundings. Can you tell me a bit about what influence she’s had on your household, Maxwell?"

Maxwell looked beside him at Fran and smiled softly. This wasn’t so hard. He could do this for her. He was her friend after all.

"Yes, of course doctor."

Maxwell started to tell about how he hired her out of desperation but after a rough start she had proven to be a true treasure to him and the children. He had some anecdotes on how she had used her rather unorthodox ways to raise his children and how she had had become a sunny part of the household.

"We’re very fortunate that Miss Fine turned up on our doorstep," he concluded, patting Fran’s leg.

When he looked back at the doctor he saw how her eyes followed his hand. Maxwell quickly withdrew it. The doctor directly made a note.

"Of course there were numerous amounts of times I felt like murdering her," he tried to balance out the familiar gesture. He smiled nervously at the doctor.

Dr. Svensson smiled back. "How would you describe your relationship with Fran?"

‘Darn,’ Maxwell thought. This was exactly what he was afraid of.

"Well," he stammered, rubbing his hands together. "I’d say it’s rather friendly, we get along quite fine."

"So," the doctor didn’t even look up from her notepad as she was busy scribbling, "You would consider yourself and Fran friends?"

He didn’t really like all the writing the woman did. "Yes, I do."

"Hmmm," she answered, looking back up at Maxwell.

There was a moment of silence.

"As you might know," she finally spoke, "Fran has some trouble in the dating area."

Maxwell shifted his position. He was relieved the doctor didn’t zoom in on his and Miss Fine’s relationship.

"Yes, I am aware of that," he answered, happily changing the subject.

He looked beside him at Fran, who hadn’t been directed a question yet. It must be hard for her to sit there and hear other people discuss her and her personal life. He suddenly admired Miss Fine for following through this whole therapy thing and trying to take matters into her own hands.

"Do you think Fran is attractive?"

The question hit him like a bag of bricks. Just as he thought they had moved past that subject, the doc had pulled him back in.

"Uhm… well.…" What was he to say? What was the safest answer?

He looked again beside him. He couldn’t just lie through his teeth and tell the doc she wasn’t. First of all it would hurt Miss Fine but second of all it would be a ridiculous statement. It would be like calling a yellow cab blue.

Miss Fine looked at him with raised eyebrows, anticipating the answer.

She was very curious at what would happen next. She had no idea what the doctor had in mind but these questions and Maxwell’s answers to them were quite interesting.

"Is this a hard question for you?" Dr. Svensson asked, scribbling down a few words.

Maxwell sighed. "No, no it isn’t. Yes, Miss Fine is an attractive woman," he blurted out, knowing no better answer than this one. But it didn’t mean anything. He found some actresses he worked with attractive as well but he himself had never felt attracted to them.…

He mentally slapped himself. His thoughts were making no sense now.

"You say you are friends." The doctor looked warmly at Maxwell, trying to comfort him.

Fran smiled inside after his admittance. Alright she had known so but he had never really said it like this. She wondered where the doc was going with these questions.

"What is it with Miss Fine that keeps you from falling in love with her?"

Maxwell’s eyes shot up. What kind of question was this?

The doctor let out a laugh. "I’m sorry if my questions seem somewhat direct. But Miss Fine has told me that all of her relationships just don’t work out for some reason. We just stated the fact that she is an attractive woman so there maybe is something about her that might scare men off."

Maxwell nodded slowly, showing the doc that he was following her reason. He didn’t quite agree with her though. In his theory Miss Fine just kept picking the wrong men. And he couldn’t be happier about that. But that was something he definitely wouldn’t tell that doctor.

"You’re a man," Dr. Svensson continued. "And you’re her friend."

Maxwell nodded again.

"Yet, you also find her attractive so there is something about her that doesn’t make you fall in love with her. You remain just a friend. So I figure you might know why other men might not be interested."

Maxwell ran a hand through his hair and shook his head.

"Doctor, I don’t want to interfere with your session but I really think this getting us nowhere. I’m just her employer."

"You’ve just stated you were her friend," the doctor said calmly.

"Yes, yes but that doesn’t make me an expert on her relationships. I don’t know why they don’t work out. Maybe she hasn’t found the right one yet. I don’t know. How long will this take? I do have some business to take care of."

Fran listened to the man beside him, feeling how he was trying to avoid these questions, like he always did. Maybe it was just hopeless and no doctor would be able to help them.

Dr. Svensson didn’t seem to give up yet.

"I understand that, Maxwell. But you still didn’t answer my question. Why haven’t you fallen in love with Fran?"

Maxwell felt his palms getting sweaty. How was he to answer this one? He rubbed his hands over his pants, trying to calm down his nerves. He just couldn’t think of a reason why not to love Fran Fine. If he only knew…. she was just so darn lovable.

"I don’t know, doctor," he finally said. "I’m a widower and I don’t really pay attention to these things. I’m sorry; I can’t answer your question. I can’t help you with this."

Fran shook her head, looking pleadingly at the doctor. This was no use. No one could break through his wall.

But Dr. Svensson winked at Fran. She had exactly known what he would answer and had purposely driven him into this corner.

"Alright, Maxwell, I understand," she said compassionately, laying her notepad down beside

her.

"I think we’ve talked enough for today," she said.

Maxwell felt a wave of relieve flowing through his body. He really didn’t like being questioned like this.

"But I do have an assignment for you two."

Maxwell looked up. "I thought it would be just a one time thing."

Fran looked curious. "Like homework?" she asked.

"Something like that," the doctor answered with a laugh. "But this should be a bit more fun."

She then turned to Maxwell. "I promise this is the last thing I ask of you. You would really help Fran with this. Only this assignment and an evaluation session, that’s all I ask."

Maxwell looked at Fran who pleaded him with her eyes. She knew his weak spot, how could he deny this. He was her friend after all and wanted to help her.

Fran had no idea what the doc had in mind but that wink gave her the feeling that this woman knew exactly what she was doing.

"Alright, but you have to promise me this is the last thing you’ll need of me. I am quite busy you know," Maxwell agreed reluctantly.

"I know Maxwell. I just love your musicals! I’ve seen your last one at least six times. My friends think I’m crazy for seeing your shows that often but I keep finding new things, like special meanings and metaphors. Yours are so much more profound than Webber’s bombastic shows."

This woman was good! Fran watched her open-mouthed as the doctor used this tactic on Mr. Sheffield.

"Well thank you!" Maxwell beamed. He started to like this new doctor. She seemed so much smarter than Dr. Miller. "So, what’s the assignment?"

"Yes, I’d like to know too." Fran patted Maxwell’s arm. "Thank you, Mr. Sheffield for helping me. You don’t know how much it means to me."

He smiled sweetly at her. He liked the feeling of helping her. "My pleasure, Miss Fine."

"Alright," Dr. Svensson crossed her legs. "I’d like you two to go out on a date."

Both Fran and Maxwell’s eyes shot up. What?

The doctor laughed. "You make it look like it’s the most horrible thing you could imagine."

Fran let out a nervous giggle. "Not really horrible but I don’t really see the psychological background in this."

"It’s actually quite simple," the doctor explained. "Maxwell doesn’t know why Fran’s relationships don’t work because he doesn’t really pay attention to them. I want you two to go on a date, not as employer and employee or as friends but as potential lovers. Just imagine you are interested in one another. After the date I like to evaluate what the bottlenecks are. I want to know from Maxwell why a man wouldn’t feel like he wants to spend the rest of her life with her. But also the positives so we can work on that. And of course I want to know from Fran what turned her off during this date because it could be that the problem lies in that area as well."

Fran and Maxwell looked at each other. A date? They never had had a real date with each other. There was a reason for that; they were afraid they wouldn’t be turned off by anything.

"And, just what should this date look like?" Fran asked after having digested this information. She had become an instant fan of the doctor. In half an hour she had arranged a date with Mr. Sheffield for Fran. She just couldn’t believe it!

But Fran understood that this was also an assignment for her. She had been afraid to be open about her feelings as well. During this experiment she had to lay down her cards down.

"I think it best to make it a rather standard date, with traditional settings; some nice romantic dinner, some dancing, the usual." Dr. Svensson said it all so casually, like she had a date every night.

Maxwell felt trapped. He had agreed to this assignment and couldn’t go back anymore. What he feared most was the fact that he actually felt quite smitten with the idea of a candlelight dinner with Fran, and their dance at the Kindervelt reunion hadn’t been half bad either. He didn’t mind reliving that sweet memory again. That anticipation scared the hell out of him.

"Okay, Dr. Svensson, we will spend an evening together this week and we’ll evaluate it next week," Maxwell said formally as he stood up, acting like it didn’t affect him at all.

"Thank you, Maxwell." She shook his hand with both of hers. "You are a very good friend to Fran."

He nodded smilingly and left the office.

The doctor turned to Fran. "Don’t let this chance pass you by, Fran. You need to be open and honest as well."

"I know," Fran replied softly. "Thank you."

They shook hands and when the door closed Dr. Svensson needed to sit down. Sometimes she didn’t understand life. How could two people who were obviously so much in love with each other be so stubborn and scared?

She suddenly felt the need to call her own man and tell him how much she loved him.

******

Fran let out a sigh. It had been 57 hours and what, 35 minutes since she and Mr. Sheffield had walked out of Dr. Svensson’s office in silence. But who was counting? The ride back home in the limo had been extremely awkward, and she couldn’t remember her boss ever having been as distant as he had since their therapy session together. They had hardly spoken two words, and even when they did, it was strictly business. Fran had decided to give Maxwell some space, seeing that he was probably shocked even worse than she was. But now she was slowly but surely starting to get frustrated with Mr. Sheffield’s unwillingness. After all, he had agreed to help her with her assignment! So she did what any self-respecting woman would do: she decided to push him just a bit over dinner.

"So, Mr. Sheffield…. About this assignment of ours…."

Maxwell looked up with more than just a hint of worry in his eyes, and started to cough uncomfortably. If there was one thing he didn’t want to bring up in front of the children, it would be this very topic. Their ‘prescription date’ was awkward enough as it was, he definitely didn’t need the children to mingle into the complexity of what was Miss Fine and himself.

"Yes Miss Fine, how about we discuss that in my office, after dinner?"

Fran got the hint and decided to cut him some slack for the moment. She’d get things rolling as soon as they’d hit his office, that much she was sure of!

As they walked into the office after dinner, she could feel the apprehensive tension that surrounded Max. She definitely didn’t want him to crawl into his shell all the way, or even completely wiggle his way out his promise to help her for the sake of her therapy, so she started off as diplomatically as she had it in her.

"Look, Mr. Sheffield, I know this assignment probably isn’t what either of us expected, and I want you to know that I really appreciate that you’re willing to help me with it. Why don’t we try to keep it as professional as we can within the meaning of the assignment?"

Max had planned on trying to work his way out of his promise, but looking at her, standing there being all sincere and appreciative, he just felt he couldn’t disappoint her again. And after all, they were both adults, they should be able to handle a simple date, and a fake date at that?! So he just closed his eyes for a brief second and jumped in.

"Alright Miss Fine. How about we work on our assignment this Saturday? Niles will be here to take care of the children, so that shouldn’t give any problems. Unless you already have plans for Saturday night?"

"Me, plans on a Saturday? How long ‘ya known me? Nope, Saturday is just fine by me!"

"Then please allow me to make the arrangements. Dr. Svensson said that we should go with a bit of a traditional setting, so as the gentleman I’ll take it on me to book us a table in a nice restaurant, huh?" ‘At least I’ll be able to make sure the setting isn’t just too romantic,’ he thought to himself. He knew what Miss Fine was capable of, after all. He only needed to think back to the huge billboard she had gotten him on last year’s Valentine’s Day.

"Okay then, you go ahead. I’m sure you’re very capable of whatever you have in mind!" Fran said in a light voice layered with flirtatiousness. Max said nothing but just rolled his eyes as Fran practically skipped out of his office.

**********

Even if she knew she shouldn’t, Fran was feeling positively giddy. Tonight was the big night of their fake date. ‘Hah, we’ll see how fake it’s gonna be after all,’ Fran thought. ‘Maybe if I play my cards right, Mr. Sheffield will finally get it through to his head that we belong together.’

She had chosen to wear a knee-length black dress, simple yet elegant and very much unlike her usual style and flair. As eager as she might be, she really didn’t want to scare her boss off by seeming too eager.

She flashed Maxwell a broad smile as she made her entrance down the stairs, where he was waiting for her, ready to help her into her coat.

"So, where are we going tonight?"

"Patience, please. You’ll see in time."

"Oh, being all mysterious tonight, aren’t we? Now I definitely can’t wait to see what you’ve got up your sleeve, mister!"

Maxwell smiled a nervous smile in response, and led her out the door. He had made reservations in a cosy, not too romantic Italian bistro, where he’d taken backers before. When making the phone call for the table, he’d explicitly asked for a table right in the middle of the restaurant, telling the answering waitress that ‘he liked being able to watch other people’.

In spite of what he’d been telling himself all the time, he felt scared out of his mind taking Fran out like this. Yes, they were both adults; yes, it was a fake date…. But the look on his nanny’s face told him something completely different, as did the butterflies in his stomach.

As the two of them entered the restaurant, the maître d’ immediately approached them with a huge smile plastered on his face.

"Ahh, Mr. Sheffield, Miss Fine, welcome, welcome." He helped them out of theirs coats, never stopping talking. "Mr. Sheffield, I’m so very sorry, but unfortunately we won’t be able to help you with your special request for your table." He smiled apologetically at them, while Fran raised her eyebrows at Max questioningly.

"What do you mean? You don’t have a table for us tonight?" Max inquired.

The man continued squirming. "Well, no, that’s not the problem; as a matter of fact we have one of our best tables ready and waiting for you. But you see, one of my waiters has made a little bit of a mix up, so now you’re getting a different table than we originally had planned." While talking the maître d’ had started leading them into a corner of the restaurant, and by now they were all standing next to a small table for two in a secluded corner of the room, romantically lit by candles. Fran and Max looked at each other, and whereas Fran couldn’t be more ecstatic, she could see how Maxwell was starting to panic because of this unexpected turn of events. So she replied to their host, without giving Max a chance to work his way out of this.

"Thank you, it’s no problem. We’ll have just as good a time over here at this table." And with that she sat down, leaving Max no other option but doing the same.

After Max had ordered a nice bottle of wine, a tense silence fell upon them, neither knowing what to say in order to break the ice.

"So..." Fran started, "this is nice huh?"

Maxwell smiled tightly. "Yes, yes, very nice indeed."

There was that silence again. This was not going well. They were both too nervous to speak. Fran felt the need to do something about this before the night would descent into a boring and meaningless evening.

"Tell me something about yourself, Maxwell," she said boldly while folding her napkin in a triangular shape.

Maxwell raised his eyebrow. "Maxwell?" he echoed his own name.

"Well, if we are supposed to treat this evening as a real date, we should call each other by our first names. Or do you usually call your dates by their last names too?" Fran smiled brightly, this ought to do the trick.

Maxwell folded his hands on his plate and looked at Fran. His face didn’t look totally relaxed yet. "Alright, you have a point. Let’s just forget that we know each other and…. Start to get to know each other, Miss Fi… Fran." He mentally winced at his own words. But letting her first name roll from his tongue wasn’t that bad, he had to admit that much.

Fran reached out to pat his hands. "Let’s just make a nice evening out of this assignment. And hopefully you can give me some feedback later. After all, that’s what this evening is all about."

He nodded. Yes, he had to find something about Fran that would put him off. That’s the assignment. So far, he hadn’t been able to find anything. Or it had to be that dress she was wearing. He had grown accustomed to her tight and sexy dresses and this surely wasn’t one to fit into that category. She usually didn’t go out on dates dressed like this. But if he would meet her for the first time, he had to admit that he wouldn’t be turned off by her clothing at all.

"I was born in England," he started his life story. "I went to Eton and got involved in Drama productions. That’s were I found my passion for theatre. The British theatre culture is quite rich. We have.…"

Fran listened to Maxwell telling the stories she all knew so well. She couldn’t help but open her mouth.

"Mr. Sheffield?" she interrupted him.

He momentarily stopped his monologue and looked at her. "Yes, Miss Fine?"

"Is this how you always are during dates?"

Maxwell raised one eyebrow. "Uhm… yes. Why?"

"It’s, you know, a bit boring to keep talking about theatre. You should spice up the conversation a little."

"Spice up?" he repeated her incomprehensively.

Fran nodded while taking a sip of her wine. "Yeah, you act like you are at a job interview. When a woman goes out with you, she really isn’t interested in the history of British theatre. Believe me!"

"But the theatre is who I am," he protested. What the bloody hell was this? Since when was she tutoring him about dating? She might be more experienced in that area but her rendezvous never really work out. He was here to make notes on her, not the other way around.

"No," she answered smartly, her finger pointing in the air. "The theatre is what you do. Not who you are."

Maxwell sighed. She might have a point there but what else would he talk about with a woman the first time out? Maybe he had been out of this dating game for too long.

"How do you suggest I ‘spice it up’ then, Miss Fine?"

Fran smiled broadly. "Tell them about your kids, the tennis you like to play and the TV-shows you watch."

Maxwell pondered this. "Talking about the kids is how I spice things up?" he asked not quite sure if she was serious or just taking him out for a spin.

"Yeah, women go for that caring side in a man," she answered, while leaning forward towards him, "At least, this woman does." She winked at him, causing Maxwell to cough uncomfortably. She just couldn’t help it. She had promised herself to not scare him away but flirting with him came naturally.

"And that blushing of yours is cute but it takes away that whole sexy Broadway producer thing you have going," she added, putting her hand on top of his.

Maxwell shook his head. "Miss Fine, I start to feel like I am being taken out for a dating course. I thought we were here to see why your relationships don’t last. So why don’t you tell a bit about yourself… ‘Fran’."

He smiled smugly at her. He knew what she had been doing; turning the tables on him.

Fran narrowed her eyes. "Hmmm, very smart Mr. Sheffield, very smart!"

"Who’s Mr. Sheffield?" Maxwell leaned back with his hands crossed over his chest. If she wanted to have it this way, she could bloody well get it. Two could play this game.

But Fran silently enjoyed this little game they were playing. Challenging each other was their ‘thing’ and she always explained it to herself as a release of sexual tension.

A bit of sexual tension was just what she needed tonight to finally get things right between them.

"Alright," she started, leaning with her chin on her folded hands. "I am twenty nine yea…."

She stopped as Maxwell let out a loud laugh but he quickly recomposed himself when he looked at her. He had to keep reminding himself that they had just met.

"As I was saying," Fran wrinkled her nose at him, while he bit his lip to keep from laughing. "I’m twenty nine years old and I live in Manhattan. I work there too, as a professional caretaker and I like candlelight dinners and romantic walks." She batted her eyelashes at Maxwell who was biting his lip to keep from laughing.

"What?"

He couldn’t contain it any longer and let out a loud snicker. "I’m sorry but do you really mean what you are saying? I have never seen you take a long romantic walk, especially not considering the shoes you’re wearing."

Fran couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Was he telling her how to act during a date now? Since when was he the expert on that? When was the last time he had gone out altogether?

Before she could answer, the waiter came to their table to ask if they had made their decision already. Fran and Maxwell looked at each other, both realising they had forgotten to take a peek at the menu. Without looking Maxwell quickly ordered a carpaccio and a Filetto di branzino for both of them.

"I have no idea what I’ll see on my plate this evening but it sure sounded sexy," her voice was teasing.

Maxwell gave her a wink, "Good to hear I did at least something well during this date."

"Yeah, much better than laughing at me and my hobbies." She still hadn’t forgiven him for that, despite his fancy Italian words.

Maxwell leaned forward. "Those aren’t your hobbies, Miss Fine," he softly said. "Why don’t you just tell your date that you like watching mindless soaps while eating Haagen Dazs?"

"Are you insane? Any man would run away in horror. A woman has to make herself look interesting. You clearly have no idea how this works." She held a hand up towards him.

Maxwell reached for her hand and held it. "Try me," he said. "Try to be yourself and see what happens."

Fran looked at his hand, holding hers and back at his face again. She could see this was no game. He really meant what he said.

"Ok, I’m twenty nine years old," she stuck out her tongue at Maxwell’s odd look. "I’m a nanny for three kids who I love dearly. I like shopping, I’m a walking TV-guide and spend my days fantasising about my mother moving to Boca. So, how desirable is that?"

Maxwell lowered their still joined hands to the table and stared intently at her, ignoring her last remark. "That sounds very nice, Fran." His voice was soft and gentle while his thumb caressed her hand. "Tell me more about the kids you seem to be so fond of."

He watched how Fran’s face lit up. "The oldest is Maggie, she’s eighteen already, she is a very beautiful blonde girl. Then there’s the boy, Brighton, but I like to call him B because I just don’t get it when people name their children after a rainy town in England." She winked at him. "He is fourteen and a real prankster but a good kid. He has a great sense of humour." She paused a bit to take a sip of her wine with her free hand. She hoped he didn’t notice it shaking. His thumb was really tickling her senses at the moment.

"And then there is the youngest, little Gracie, she is ten years old but still my baby. She is smart beyond her years." Fran finished her description of the children.

"See?" Maxwell stated, taking her hand in both of his now.

She looked at him with raised eyebrows, "See what?"

"I’m still here. I didn’t run away in horror." He stated smartly.

Fran snorted. "Yeah, but you know me already."

Maxwell shook his head and smiled at her. "No, I don’t, Fran. This is our first date."

Maxwell reluctantly released her hand. This was nice, very nice. He loved to hear Miss Fine speak about her life, which was also his life. For a moment he had wanted to bring her hand to his mouth and kiss it lightly. Thank heavens, he had mentally slapped himself before he could do that. If he wasn’t careful enough he would start believing this dating assignment to be a real date. He couldn’t have any of that. He already felt himself being carried away by her smile and her eyes, while he had promised himself to stay professional.

Fran saw him hesitate for a moment as he removed his hands from hers. Was it her imagination or did he almost pull her hand up to his lips?

Oh, how she wished she wasn’t as nervous as she felt right now. In her mind she had planned everything: she would slowly seduce him tonight and finally tell him she loved him. It would be now or never. But somehow she just couldn’t act towards him like she could with other men. With one smile he just turned her to jelly and she could do nothing more than try to catch her breath and keep her composure. Flirting with him was easy but when he caught her off guard and started a little teasing of his own, she just crawled into a shell she didn’t even know she carried with her.

Only two sessions with Dr. Svensson and yet she already understood herself better. With other men she could easily act any way she wanted. She just wasn’t interested in them. She never told a lot about herself because she never cared for these men to really know her. It was easier to chat superficially and play a role for a while. Deep inside she never wanted these relationships to get to the next level. That’s why they never worked out.

But this, this between her and Mr. Sheffield, was the only thing she wanted so badly that she was afraid to do something and ruin it. It had to stop. If both of them were too afraid to take a step towards each other, nothing would ever happen. And Mr. Sheffield seemed to be in a romantic and playful mood now.

"Shall I tell you about my boss, Max?" She started, pushing away the jitters in her stomach. She tilted her head and smiled as sexily as she could manage.

Maxwell swallowed. He knew he shouldn’t dive into this territory but it was all so tempting. He desperately wanted to know what she had to say about him.

"Uhm… yes, if you think it’s interesting to talk about." His fingers subconsciously traced the outline of his glass, while he did his best to appear casual.

"I think it’s very interesting," Fran responded in a seductive tone while licking her lips. She could read both curiosity and nervousness in his eyes. Was he cute or what, this way?

She did her best to keep that sexy act going. "He is a Broadway producer and I must admit I find him very a…"

Before she could finish her sentence they were interrupted by the waiter who brought them their carpaccio.

‘Damn waiter!’ Maxwell thought to himself as he tried to read Fran’s expression. What was it that she was about to say about him?

Fran was thinking something along the lines of Maxwell’s thoughts. At that moment she had worked up all her courage but now the moment was gone and her insecurity took over again.

They both stared at each other, neither of them taking notice of the explanation on their starter, given by the waiter.

As soon as the waiter went away, Fran started babbling about the carpaccio to avoid Maxwell’s questioning stare.

"Yes, yes, it’s delicious," Maxwell agreed with her after she had spent ten minutes complimenting him on his excellent choice.

He just had to bring up the subject again. "Fran, you were talking about your boss before the waiter interrupted us rather rudely."

Fran felt her cheeks redden. The fish seemed ready to bite and she wondered if she should show him the bait again. What was she thinking? This was her chance, her moment and she should grab it while it was hot.

"Yeah, I was telling him about you…uhm… you about him," she smiled giddily. ‘Don’t let this chance pass you by Fran!’ She could hear Dr. Svensson repeating in her ear.

Maxwell looked at her anticipating.

"Like I said, he is a Broadway producer and … he’s very attractive." She practically blurted out the last part.

Maxwell’s smile broadened. This caught him totally off guard. Of course he knew Miss Fine liked him. After Paris that much was clear to him but she had never come out and said something like this.

"Well thank…" Maxwell started before realising that they were playing ‘first date’ now. "That’s interesting." he quickly said, an idea forming in his head. "So, you have the hots for your boss?" He added with a devilish grin.

Fran took the fork in her hand and started to push around the lettuce that was left on her plate. She wasn’t very good at something like this. Flirting was her area but being upfront about her true feelings was a completely different story. She usually just made a joke out of everything to hide whatever she was really feeling. Maybe she and Mr. Sheffield were more alike than they thought.

But this was the night she had promised herself to be true and clear for once and for all. Dr. Svensson had set this up and she just had to kick the ball between the goal posts.

With a soft clatter her fork dropped on her plate while she looked up and met Maxwell’s eyes. "Yeah." She answered simply.

Maxwell felt his throat turning dry in an instant. He had meant that as a smart joke but her answer seemed quite genuine.

"Oh… alright." He uttered in a croaked voice, deciding to clear his throat. "That’s… interesting." He managed to say.

Fran watched him stutter while the meaning of her words sank in. She had practically professed her love for him. Now she had to keep a grasp on this conversation before he would dive under the table in fear.

"After I’ve been so open about myself. Maybe you can tell me a bit more about you… Maxwell." She emphasised his first name to show that they were still in ‘first date’ character.

Maxwell took a big gulp of wine to drink in some confidence. "What do you want to know?" he asked with a forced grin. In between the waiter silently took their plates.

Fran felt the strength inside of her grow. "I don’t know." She let her fingers run over the tablecloth towards his hands. "Do you live alone? Or is there some gorgeous nanny prancing around the house?"

Maxwell couldn’t help but smile with glistering eyes. He didn’t know anymore what part of Fran Fine was playing a game and what part was sincere. It was always hard to tell with her. He decided to play along with this strange conversation he was secretly enjoying very much.

"As a matter of fact, yes, there is a drop dead gorgeous nanny in my employ." His voice was low as he let his eyes wander from her hands up her arm and ending upon her face. "And I think she has a crush on me," he added bravely.

"Oh, is that so…" Fran answered in a melodic tone, not showing him how affected she was by his words. Her heart was beating madly at the moment. "And do you feel the same about her?"

He knew he could have expected this response from her and his mind was working overtime to find a clever reaction. But before he could come up with something smart, his heart already answered out loud: "Definitely." He didn’t realise he had actually spoken that word for real until he registered Fran’s expression.

Oy… big oy! Fran’s head was spinning now. She had to keep this conversation going in order to avoid an awkward silence. As long as she treated it like a game, it would all seem quite innocent.

Maxwell was staring intensely at her. He knew he had gone too far with his truthful answer. He had never meant to be this open to her but she asked and… he couldn’t help being genuine to her. It was the damn romantic setting, their flirtatious play and… her eyes, her mouth… everything. At this moment he just wanted to grab her and plant a lustful kiss on those teasing red lips of hers. This was the reason why he had felt reluctant to go on a date with her. He knew exactly what would happen when they were in a romantic setting together. And the worst part was; he couldn’t stop it. Hell, he didn’t want to stop it. Her admission of having ‘the hots’ for him, had turned him on immensely.

"So…" her fingers had reached his resting hand on the table. With her nails, she scraped the back of his hand. "Tell me about this nanny of yours." Her voice was low and seductive.

"Well," he started as he tried to ignore the shivers she was sending through his body with this action. "She is crazy. She knows all these insane details from soap operas, always screws up my business, gets herself in more trouble than my three children combined and she has a rather scary shopping addiction and…. Ouch!" He brought his hand to his mouth to sooth the deep mark Fran’s nail had left in his flesh.

"Sorry." Fran smiled like a Cheshire cat. "Did I just accidentally punch a hole in your hand?"

He suckled on the sore skin, before putting his hand down again. "I think you should let me finish before you start to get violent."

Fran traced the outline of his hand tenderly with her finger tips. "I’ll let you finish, just be careful what you say."

Maxwell shook his head with a smirk on his face. She really was something else. "What I was saying," he continued slowly. "She may have all these insane quirks and sometimes irritate me to bloody madness." He quickly pulled his hand away to avoid more damage. Fran smiled sweetly at him. "Yet I wouldn’t change a thing about her. And why some man hasn’t snatched her up is beyond my understanding but I can’t say I feel very sorry for that."

"Ohw, Mr. Sheffield," Fran gushed, forgetting to stay in character. "That’s so sweet!"

His cheeks filled themselves with blood and he could only imagine how much he was blushing now. He looked down as he fiddled with his napkin.

"But," Fran interjected, obviously back into her ‘first date’ mode again. "You haven’t told me what this nanny of your looks like. Is she pretty?"

She knew she was pushing it, but why not? It was the first time he was so frank and open with her and she wondered if she would ever have this chance again.

Maxwell looked up at her, doing his best to appear normal and in control. He had a strange feeling in his stomach. On one hand he was scared of what would happen, after his admittance, but on the other hand it felt good to finally tell her what he had bottled up for so long. He felt like a river which had just burst through a dam. He couldn’t stop anymore.

And he needed to touch her.

He reached out for her hand and brought it to his lips. "My nanny," he started, letting his lips trail over the back of her skin, "Is the most beautiful, sexy and exciting woman I have ever seen in my life." He turned her hand and put his lips on her wrist, softly kissing it.

Fran felt the need to pinch herself. Was this really happing? Was this Mr. Sheffield who was saying these words to her and practically making love to her hand like this?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft cough, coming from the waiter who brought them their main course. Maxwell had to release Fran’s hand now, trying to savour her taste on his lips. Once again the waiter’s explanation was lost on both of them. The food looked absolutely delicious, Fran had to admit. But very unlikely for her, her mind wasn’t set on food.

Maxwell heard the waiter faintly talking about the unique taste of sea bass but all his mind could concentrate on was the woman in front of him and how he could possibly get through the evening while staying a gentleman. Alright he had done so for four years but they had never had this kind of conversation before and her words, as well as his own, had awakened his senses.

He wanted her.

He loved her.

And now he had to figure out what to do about it; run away like he always had in the past or try to make the best out of it. There was so much at stake.

Their conversation over their main course was calm and pleasant. Neither of them dared to play their game for a moment, not knowing how the other would react to it. It had been a rather big bomb shell and they both needed time to digest it.

"So, you’re up for a little dancing, Maxwell?" Fran was the first one to pick up their playful flirting again when the band started playing and a few couples entered the dance floor.

Maybe they had needed a break from their heated conversation earlier but she definitely wouldn’t let a chance go by to finally make her move tonight.

Maxwell hesitated for a moment as he spotted the determination in Fran’s eyes but when she flashed him a smile, he knew he couldn’t deny her. Tonight everything seemed different, he felt like a changed man and second by second his fear was ebbing away. Maybe he should grasp it and let sanity take over again. He felt empty without that comfortable fear.

But just one look at Fran made him discard those thoughts.

"Of course, Fran," he answered as he got up and held out his hand for her.

"Wow, you are a true gentleman," she exclaimed excitedly as she took his hand and let him lead her to the dance floor.

The words he then whispered in response made her shiver all over. "Don’t count on that." His breath felt warm against her ear.

Fran could only stare at him in astonishment as he placed his hand behind her back and brought them into dancing position.

"You know," she started, while they took their first spin on the dance floor, "My boss is a great dancer as well."

Maxwell’s eyes twinkled as he smiled. "My nanny is too. Maybe we should let them meet up. They would make a perfect couple."

He still held her in a perfect appropriate dancing position and it started to annoy Fran. She needed to feel his body closer against hers.

"Maybe…" Fran stretched her words, taking her time to get his full attention. "But my boss is kind of stuffy; I sometimes wish he would pull me closer."

She hadn’t even finished her sentence or she felt Maxwell’s arms enclosing her frame and pulling her flat up against him. "He might not be as stuffy as you think."

While Maxwell spoke those words, he let his lips wander over her cheek, breathing in her scent, feeling mesmerised by her perfume.

Fran’s heart was beating fast now. She closed her eyes, wanting to feel every inch of his lips on her skin. She let her hand wander over his back, pressing him even tighter against her, almost forgetting she had to sway to the music as well.

"Max…" Her voice was a mere moan and she didn’t know if he could hear her.

Maxwell was nuzzling her neck now. "Yes, Fran…" His voice was deep and hoarse.

She wanted to tell him now. This seemed the perfect moment. She had to tell him she loved him. Now….

"Let’s go home," she simply said.

He raised his head and nodded in agreement. With his hand still on her back, he led her out of the restaurant after leaving enough money on their table.

Tension was brimming in the limo but they both didn’t dare to speak. Fran sat on one side and Maxwell on the other.

"That was a nice dance," Fran started, turning towards him.

"Yes it was," Maxwell answered. It was dark in the limo but at the flashing of the city lights, she swore he was smiling at her.

"You forgot to tell me one thing about your nanny." She knew that once again she had to break the ice. But if Mr. Sheffield’s actions on the dance floor were any indication of his current state, she should better make use of that before he’d slip through her fingers.

"What is that?" He tried to make out her expression in the dark car. Her voice sounded teasing though and he thought he could see a seductive smile in the evening glow. Or was he imagining that smile?

At the next flash of the road lights, Fran sat next to him. She let her hand travel up his chest. Maxwell held his breath as her fingers reached his neck, his chin and his lips.

Her perfume was all around him now and her lips were flashing before his eyes. He slowly kissed the finger she held to his mouth, looking straight at her.

"You forgot to tell," she repeated, "that your nanny is one heck of a kisser."

There were no road lights flashing at the moment, they might have driven under a bridge or something alike, Maxwell didn’t care. He reached with his hands for her face and found it immediately. He brought his lips up to hers and softly grazed over them.

"You might have forgotten to tell something about your boss as well," he breathed as licked her lips softly, urging her to open them.

Fran’s response was non verbal. She brought both her hands up to his cheeks and opened her mouth to invite him in. Her tongue met his and started a sensual dance while she moved her hands through his hair. She felt his warmth engulf her, this felt so right.

Maxwell tilted his head to gain more access while the kiss went from tender and sensual to more passionate and erotic. He scraped his teeth across her lips and thought he might die from the sensation of tasting her and letting his hands wander down her back. After all the flirting and their not-so-innocent dance, he had lost all reserves when it came to this woman. He just needed her, more and more with every passing moment.

With her hands Fran pulled him down with her, while she herself leaned backwards, trying to increase their contact. They had kissed before but never like this. Maxwell seemed on fire and she liked this wild side of him. She engulfed his lower lip with her own and suckled softly on it, pulling it down a little. She just wanted to have it all now… she loved this man so much.

And she needed to let him know.

Maxwell’s mouth left hers as he travelled downwards, over her collarbone to her neck.

"Ooohw," Fran cried while catching her breath and wrapping herself in the sensation of feeling him tease a very sensitive area.

It was without thinking, but she meant it when she suddenly breathed those three words.

"I love you."

Maxwell first thought he didn’t hear it right, he was too engrossed in tasting every inch of that sweet skin of hers. But the words slowly seeped into his conscience and he couldn’t help but stop what he was doing.

He pulled himself up and looked her, seeing nothing but truth and determination in her eyes. His heart stood still at that moment. On one hand it wanted to jump for joy and burst out in an awful sappy love song but on the other hand his fear had kicked in again. This was serious. At the restaurant it had been play, maybe with a serious undertone but it could still be linked to the game they had been playing all night. But this was for real… This was….

"I’m sorry if I startled you," Fran started, her eyes glistering with hope. "But I had to let you know before…. You know, anything would happen."

Maxwell nodded while his hands moved away from her. He didn’t want to do this. He wanted to echo her words and rain a thousand kisses on her but his body felt paralysed. This was going so fast.…

Fran turned her head away and tried to keep her moist eyes out of sight. This was it. She had given her all. It was everything or nothing tonight and apparently she ended up with nothing. But no one could say she hadn’t tried.

"Miss Fine…" Maxwell sighed, wanting to say something but he wasn’t sure what.

Fran held up her hand. "No, it’s okay," she softly said.

The car slowly rolled to a stop in front of the mansion. Fran pushed her door open before Maxwell could be all gentlemanly and hold it open for her. She didn’t need him to be a gentleman this time. He had promised her he wouldn’t be one tonight.

As they reached the door, Fran turned around and leaned back against it.

She had almost given up but maybe… just maybe she needed to give it one last try. She didn’t want to go down without giving it all in the final round.

Maxwell already had the keys in his hand when he looked up and was faced with her.

"Tell me," she said.

The keys rustled in his hands. She could tell he was nervous.

"Tell me you don’t love me," she said firmly. "Just tell me and I will never try to convince you otherwise. I just need to know."

Maxwell shook his head. "You know very well that I can’t say that, Fran." His voice was croaked as if he had a lump in his throat.

She felt helpless and had the strong urge to pound her fists on his chest and cry for him to just love her. They would be so damn right together.

He reached around her for the door and opened it. With his arm around her waist he guided Fran inside, closing the door behind them.

"I love you," Fran said again. "And I am not afraid to say it. I fell in love with you and all I want right now is for you to touch me like you just did and admit that you feel the same. I know you do. You don’t need to fear this. You don’t need to feel guilty."

Maxwell turned towards her; his hands were on her waist now. "But what if we don’t work out? It’s not just us we have to consider in this matter."

Fran felt a little hope sparkle inside of her. She put her arms around his neck and made him face her. "Maxwell Sheffield, I promise that if you love me with all your heart and all your soul, this will work out. I’ll never leave you. I love you so much."

He swallowed, trying his best to keep his emotions inside. He had never really known how strongly she felt about him. Yes, they flirted and she had shown her interest but she went out on so many dates with other men. He never knew whether she just enjoyed the play with him or if she was truly serious about the two of them. Her admission gave him strength.

She loved him.

He buried his face in her neck and crushed her to him, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist. "Fran, I don’t know what to feel anymore," his voice came out raspy. "I don’t know how to handle this feeling. All my life I thought Sara was the one and I didn’t need anyone else after her. But then…."

He looked up at her and let his finger follow the shape of her cheekbone. "Then you came into this house. You have no idea how attracted I was to you from the beginning."

Fran smiled at him. "It was the résumé in lipstick that did it, right? Always a huge turn on for every man."

Maxwell’s serious face turned into mild laugh. "And you make me laugh." He swallowed while letting his finger linger on her cheek, softly caressing it. "I fell in love with you, and not just a little."

Fran’s heart leaped by this admittance; she encouraged him by slowly rubbing his back with her hands.

"But I’m torn." He blew out a large breath between his teeth before he continued, "I don’t want to betray Sara. What we had was real but I…" Maxwell squeezed his eyes shut before he could continue. This was so hard to say out loud. "I never felt anything like this before. I’m not just in love with you, Fran. I’m obsessed with you. I… I don’t even know a word that describes it. And… it scares me to death. I don’t want to betray Sara like this. I don’t want to find happiness in her death. That’s why I tried to fight everything that happened between us. But the more I fought it, the stronger it got. And now here we are."

Fran was speechless at that moment. This admittance was more than she had hoped for. She could only nod compassionately.

Maxwell felt his mind clear up, after laying all his cards out on the table. He didn’t want to hear the mixed voices in his head anymore. After this small session of self analysing, only one thought and one urge stood out. He couldn’t stop it anymore and didn’t want to either, in the end. Whether it was wrong or right, it was inevitable and maybe he should follow his heart for once and for all… and some other body part he had neglected for so long.

"I love you," he softly said. "And all I can think of now is how I want to get that ridiculous grandma’s dress off of you and have my way with you." His bold admittance startled himself. He put his forehead against hers. "I’m tired of fighting and maybe I’m tired of caring what my late wife would think of it. I loved her… love her still but the memory alone is not enough anymore. I need you, Fran. And if I don’t kiss you right now, I think I will die."

"Then kiss me," Fran answered shortly, her words came out in a whisper.

Maxwell didn’t waste any time, he steadied his hand on her cheek and the other on her lower back while his mouth crushed down on hers.

This kiss didn’t start out slowly, they were past that stage. He immediately engulfed her mouth with his own and let his tongue wrap itself up in her warmth. Fran was past the stage of any form of gentleness as she violently pulled his lower lip towards her, before soothing it again with her tongue. She took a step back and felt the hard wood of the door bump against her. She pulled Maxwell harder against her own body and moaned of the delicious sensation of him clashing against her breasts.

Maxwell reached a hand down to her rear and squeezed it not so gently, causing a raspy cry to erupt from Fran’s throat. He kissed her even harder now, reaching further down with his hand to pull her dress up. "Bloody thing is too long," he whispered in her mouth as he jerked on it, causing it to tear in the process. Now he had access to her legs and immediately let his fingers run over her inner thigh.

Fran did her best to keep herself standing, leaning against the door while she felt like all her blood rushed to one place. His wandering hand was a sheer delightful torture.

Maxwell pulled his lips from hers, trailing down to her chin to nip on it and push her head back. He started nibbling on her throat, leaving red marks on her skin.

Fran entangled one hand in his hair while guiding him lower. Maxwell used his hand to tear her dress further up and pull her leg around his waist while his mouth reached the cleavage of her dress.

"Rip the whole damn thing apart already," Fran’s voice was barely recognisable as she squeezed his waist with her leg. Maxwell reached up to her mouth again, kissing it roughly.

"As much as I…" he started but interrupted himself with another kiss, "…want you right here and right now…." He trailed his mouth over her cheek to her ear. "I think we should finish this in my room."

Fran could only nod as he picked her up and carried her up the stairs. Momentarily she had a flashback to the whole scene after she had missed the boat with Nigel but quickly discarded that thought when Maxwell bent down and kissed her sensuously while carrying her to his private domain.

She didn’t know how he did it but in one movement he had carried her in, locked the door and laid her down on the bed. He now bent over her and locked eyes with hers.

Fran reached out to caress his cheek. "Are you sure you want this?"

She just had to ask. The worst thing would be if he’d regret in the morning everything he had said and done in the throes of passion.

Maxwell kissed her softly. "Absolutely, I love you and… I want you so bad, woman."

Fran smiled up at him. "Then get me out of this awful dress please."

"My pleasure…." He bent down and kissed her slowly; letting his mouth ease the rough kisses from a few moments ago. Then he let his mouth trail downwards to the edge of the dress, licking the skin exposed just above the fabric.

With his hand he reached for the tear, pulling slowly at it until the dress was ripped to her waist.

He moved down to kiss the skin of her upper leg which was now exposed. With his hand he softly tugged at her dress again to let the tear run up further while his mouth followed the path up.

When he reached her pelvis, he used his teeth to give a soft pull at her panties and let them softly slap back; with his hands he caressed her waist. Fran thought she would die of anticipation.

Slowly he moved his mouth up as the dress tore further apart. The rip reached her breasts now, exposing her black satin bra. He slowly swallowed as he stared at the black satin; letting his finger run over the sweet material to feel the sensual swelling underneath. With one jerk of his other hand he tore the dress apart, so Fran was fully exposed in her underwear.

Fran watched him as he looked down at her; she wondered if he liked what he saw. But when his eyes finally met hers she recognised the raw passion that mirrored her own.

She took advantage of his moment of regaining his breath to reach out for his shirt and pull at the fabric to send his buttons flying. She quickly pushed the probably expensive garment from his shoulders to have his upper body exposed.

She bent forwards to kiss the skin between his nipples, softly biting at it while her hands fumbled with his belt. Above her, she heard Maxwell moan with deep throaty cries as she worked her way to his belly.

Maxwell was mesmerised by her actions. Her lips were erotically teasing his senses and he didn’t know how he could prolong this much longer. After years of fantasising he just couldn’t take it slow anymore.

When Fran had loosened his belt, he quickly kicked his pants off of him and crawled over her, taking possession of her mouth again. In between, his hands reached to her back to unclasp her bra in one movement and sliding the cups from her breasts.

His mouth immediately went downwards to taste a sample of her, nipping and licking until she let out so many different cries they seemed to blend into one long moan.

Fran didn’t know whether it was day or night, winter or summer and what freakin’ year they were living in. Alls she knew was that the man she had loved for so long was now teasing her most erogenous zones and she was just a heartbeat away of tearing that boxer short from his tush and pushing him inside of her. She had never wanted anyone as badly as she wanted him.

Maxwell felt himself strain against the fabric of his underwear. He took Fran’s hand and guided her downwards to his waist, letting her grasp the edges of his boxer shorts. She curled her fingers around them and eased them down, with help from Maxwell’s kicking legs.

He reached up to her mouth again, kissing it hard while his arousal pressed against her lower belly. With one hand he pulled violently at her panties until they ripped and were sent flying across the room.

"I hope you weren’t too attached to them," he huskily whispered in her mouth.

She replied by pressing him down on using her hands on his rear, so she could feel him fully against her, their intimate parts making contact for the first time. "Maxwell, make love to me," she cried hoarsely.

He looked at her once more, drinking in every detail of her beautiful face. "I love you so much," he said as he positioned himself against her entrance.

"I love you… t….ooooooooooooh." Her words descended into a long moan when he entered her in one swift motion; his hand lifting her bottom towards him.

He started moving in long strokes, his face hovering above hers to watch her intently while she took him.

Fran stared back into his eyes as she felt her entire body engulf him, feeling every inch of him inside of her. She held onto him tightly as she felt a rumbling explosion gaining strength in her lower region.

"Oh Max," she cried, repeating his name as she came close to her climax.

Maxwell kissed her in uncoordinated lapses as he too felt himself falling over the edge. He had never been much of a loud love maker but at his moment he couldn’t control a rumbling cry as he felt that wave overtake him while Fran clung to him, loudly calling his name.

*********

Dr. Svensson looked down in her agenda. Within five minutes she had an appointment with Fran and Maxwell.

She knew she shouldn’t have favourite patients but she couldn’t help taking a special liking towards Fran. She had been fond of that woman since the moment she had entered her office.

That’s why she had decided to help her and win the love of her stuffy boss, whom she was desperately in love with.

During the past few days Dr. Svensson had wondered if she had made the right decision. She had to be objective and not plot plans to get couples together. She hadn’t been studying for 15 years to become matchmaker after all. And she didn’t even know if she was any good at it.

For all she knew she could have ruined everything for those two with her stupid ploy.

So, she had been nervous for the past days, both dreading and anticipating this particular session.

Her thoughts were interrupted by her assistant. "Miss Fine and Mr. Sheffield are here," she announced.

The doctor’s heart started racing. "Send them in please," she said in her most professional tone.

Almost immediately the door swung open again and Maxwell and Fran walked into the office.

Dr. Svensson inspected them closely. They looked different to her than they had before. Both had a glow about them and a healthy blush on their cheeks.

"Hello doc," Fran said cheerfully as she sat down.

"Good afternoon Dr. Svensson," Maxwell said in his usual formal tone. Although…. There was something different in that tone as well.

And then she saw it, that quick look her two patients exchanged with each other and at that moment she immediately knew her plan had worked.

She looked down at Fran’s hand were something was flashing quite obviously.

"That’s a nice ring, Fran," the doctor commented.

"Thank you," Fran said, flashing Maxwell a quick smile.

The doctor tried to hide her broad smile and put on her professional face.

"So, Maxwell, how was the date?" she started, taking the notepad in her hand.

"It was rather nice, doctor," he answered with a sparkle in his eyes.

"You found anything in Fran that would turn a man off?" Dr. Svensson couldn’t entirely hide a grin as she asked that question. Maxwell could neither.

"Not at all doctor."

"Are you sure you have tried well enough to find it?" The Doc asked, now with a big smile on her face.

Maxwell blushed and looked down at his hands. "I’m pretty sure of that, yes."

Fran took his hand in hers. "Doc, I can say he inspected me thoroughly that night. He has been doing the assignment with a passionate enthusiasm… three times," she whispered the last part so only Maxwell could hear it.

His cheeks turned redder by the second.

"So, I take it you don’t need therapy anymore, Fran?" Dr. Svensson stated, putting her notebook aside.

Fran shook her head with a broad smile. "I found a very satisfying substitute."

All three of them suddenly burst out in laughter.

"Congratulations to the both of you," the doctor said as she stood up to hug both of her patients.

This wasn’t the normal routine and certainly not the way she handled her other patients. But these two were something special and she was just happy she had helped to push fate a little.

As Dr. Svensson looked through the window down to the bustling streets when her favourite patients had left her office for good, she spotted a large black limo down the street. Soon after, Fran and Maxwell left the building and walked towards that stretched car hand in hand. She watched how Maxwell turned towards Fran, pulled her to him and gave her a long passionate kiss.

After they had caught their breaths, they disappeared into the waiting limo and Dr. Svensson guessed they wouldn’t take the shortest route home.

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