Office.
Sarah was working on a report when a knock sounded at the door.
Without looking up, she called out, "Come in."
Assuming it was just her assistant dropping off documents, she added casually, "Just leave it on the desk.
And could you make me a coffee, please?
Thanks."
Drake stiffened for a moment, then a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
He walked over to the coffee machine and brewed her a cappuccino—half sugar, just the way she liked it.
He set the cup down gently on the desk.
After all these years, he still remembered her preference.
Cappuccino, half sugar.
Some things never changed.
Every time he saw her, she was always holding a cup of coffee, head bowed in concentration.
But then she noticed the hands—those unmistakable hands.
These weren't her assistants.
They were a man's hands, with defined lines and long, elegant fingers, the kind that could rival professional hand models.
