Nancy woke to sunlight streaming through unfamiliar curtains and the realization that she was not alone.
Adrian Thorne slept beside her, one arm thrown possessively across her waist, his face softened in repose. The stark beauty of him—dark lashes against sharp cheekbones, the shadow of stubble, the vulnerability of sleep—made her chest ache.
This is a mistake , her practical brain insisted. He's your boss. This complicates everything.
But her heart, traitorous thing, remembered every moment of the night before. The kiss on the balcony. The desperate cab ride to his penthouse. The way he'd looked at her like she was precious, necessary, his .
Nancy slipped from the bed, gathering her scattered clothes. She needed coffee. She needed perspective. She needed—
"Running away?"
Adrian's voice, rough with sleep, stopped her at the bedroom door. She turned to find him propped on one elbow, the sheet sliding dangerously low on his hips.
"I was getting coffee," she said, clutching her blouse to her chest.
"Liar." But he smiled. "Come back to bed, Nancy. It's Sunday. The markets are closed, the office is empty, and I have absolutely no intention of letting you go."
"Adrian, we need to talk about—"
"Later." He patted the space beside him. "First, breakfast. Then a very long shower. Then, if you insist, we can discuss the complications of our situation with the thoroughness it deserves."
Nancy hesitated. "This is dangerous. For my career, for yours—"
"For your heart?" Adrian's expression softened. He rose, gloriously unselfconscious in his nakedness, and crossed to her. "Nancy, I've spent thirty-two years building walls so high no one could climb them. You walked through the front door in a navy skirt and knocked them down in a week." He cupped her face, his thumbs tracing her cheekbones. "I'm terrified too. But I'm more terrified of never feeling this way again."
"How do you feel?" Nancy whispered.
"Like I've been waiting for you my entire life and didn't even know it." He kissed her forehead, her nose, the corner of her mouth. "Like I want to learn every secret, every fear, every dream. Like I want to protect you and challenge you and watch you conquer the world." He pulled back, his eyes serious. "Like I want to keep you forever, which is absurd because we've known each other eight days."
Nancy laughed, the tension breaking. "Eight days, fourteen hours, and approximately thirty minutes."
"See? You're counting too." Adrian grinned, tugging her toward the bed. "That's a sign. Now, breakfast. I make excellent French toast."
"You cook?"
"I have many hidden talents, Ms. Clark. Over the next fifty years or so, I intend to reveal them all."
Fifty years . The words hung between them, enormous and terrifying and wonderful.
"French toast," Nancy said, letting him pull her back to bed. "But then we really do need to talk."
"Agreed." Adrian nuzzled her neck. "Starting with why you're still wearing that blouse..."
Three hours later, they finally made it to the kitchen. Nancy sat on a marble island in one of Adrian's shirts, watching him cook with the same intensity he brought to boardroom negotiations.
"Rules," she said, spreading jam on toast. "If we're doing this—and I'm not saying we are, but if —we need rules."
"Name them." Adrian flipped an omelet with casual expertise.
"One: No favoritism at work. I earn my promotions."
"Agreed. Though you're getting a raise anyway. Your performance review was last week."
"Adrian!"
"What? You are spectacular at your job. That has nothing to do with..." He gestured between them. "This."
"Two," Nancy continued, ignoring him, "we keep it professional in the office. No touching, no pet names, no lingering looks."
Adrian's expression darkened. "That might actually kill me."
"Three," she pressed on, "if it ends, it ends cleanly. No drama, no revenge, no making my life miserable."
The pan clattered as Adrian set it down too hard. He turned to face her, all humor gone from his face.
"Nancy, look at me." He waited until she met his eyes. "I don't do things halfway. When I commit, I commit completely. If you're expecting a fling, a temporary indulgence..." He shook his head. "That's not what this is. Not for me."
"What is it, then?"
"I told you." He stepped close, bracketing her with his arms. "Forever. However long that takes. However many rules we need to make it work." He kissed her, slow and deep. "I'm in love with you, Nancy Clark. I know it's fast. I know it's complicated. But there it is."
Nancy's heart stopped. Then raced. Then soared.
"You can't be," she breathed. "You don't even know me."
"I know that you argue with me because you respect me too much to lie. I know you volunteer at a shelter because you can't stand to see anyone helpless. I know you wear navy because it makes you feel powerful, but you secretly love yellow." He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I know that when you laugh, the world seems brighter. And I know that when you walked into my office last week, something in me recognized something in you. Like finally coming home."
Tears pricked Nancy's eyes. "This is crazy."
"The best things usually are." Adrian rested his forehead against hers. "Say you'll try, Nancy. No guarantees, no pressure. Just... try. With me."
She thought of her carefully planned life, her five-year goals, her sensible approach to romance. Then she looked at this impossible man who cooked her breakfast and quoted poetry and made her feel like the only woman in the world.
"Okay," she whispered. "I'll try."
Adrian's smile could have powered the city. "Then prepare yourself, Ms. Clark. I'm about to romance you so thoroughly, you'll wonder how you ever lived without me."
"Is that a threat or a promise?"
He swept her off the counter, carrying her toward the bedroom. "Both."