“I had to sneeze.”
I should’ve taken her insurance information and driven off like any reasonable CEO with places to be would. She crashed into my car, for heaven’s sake.Becauseshe had to sneeze. What did I do?
I didn’t get in my car and drive away if that’s what you’re thinking. Nope. I stuck around. I could suggest I stayed because she needed help, but the truth? She was really, really hot.
We became fast friends. Then friends with benefits. Before I knew it, we were involved in an illicit office romance that had me fumbling through a drawerful of panties to get a Post-It.
It was supposed to be easy—a fling, if you will. A dashing millionaire hero (*adjusts tie*) and a beautiful (stubborn, frustratingly independent, hell-on-wheels) damsel in distress.
(Don’t tell her I said that.) It wasn’t supposed to be forever, but we did want a happy ending. (Pun intended.) We could’ve made it work, too. But one of us overcomplicated things with the L-word.
And the other? They omitted a truth that changed everything.
