Page 39 of Sizzling Desire

Then I see the handwriting.

Gracie,

Thanks for last night. I appreciate the help with the party planning. Hope this brightens your morning.

—Kane

I drop the card like it’son fire.

Becauseof coursehe did this.

Of course, Kane Mitchell—the human thorn in my side, the man who drives me out of my damn mind—thought sending me flowers was a clever idea.

What is his game?

What the hell is he trying to do to me?

I don’tdoromantic gestures. I don’tdosoft moments wrapped in petals and unspoken intentions. And Kane? He’s not aflowerskind of guy. He’s a rough edges, sharp grins, cocky smirks kind of guy.

But this?

This is something else.

This is him getting in my head in a way Ido nothave time for.

My phone buzzes, and like some cruel twist of fate, his name lights up my screen.

Kane: Did you get them?

I grit my teeth, torn between wanting to throw my phone and wanting to throwmyselfout the damn window.

Me: What the hell, Kane?

Kane: You don’t like roses?

Me: I don’t like surprises.

Kane: Bullshit. You love that I’m unpredictable.

My fingers tighten around my phone, but I don’t have a comeback. Not an honest one, anyway.

Because the truth?

Idolove it.

And that is exactly the problem.

As Kate walks into my office, she looks like I’m a puzzle she’s dying to put together—one she already knows the answer to but is just waiting for me to admit it.

I don’t give her the satisfaction.

I stare at my computer screen, determined to look busy, but the numbers blur together. Not because I’m tired, though I am. Not because my stomach is in knots, though itdefinitelyis.

But because KanefreakingMitchell sent me flowers, and now I can’t focus on anything except what itmeans.

“You’re being weird,” Kate announces, flopping into the chair across from my desk as she drops some wedding paperwork on my desk. “Like,reallyweird and not just in your usual ‘I hate small talk, don’t make eye contact with me’ way. This is next level.”

I don’t look up. “I’m fine.”

---