Page 96 of The Ice Queen in the Corner Office

“I’ll explain when we get there.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

He sighed. “Just do this one thing for me, Jill. Come with me right now and, if it’s what you want, I promise I’ll keep my distance from now on. You’ll only ever have to see me in a professional capacity. I’ll make sure it’s never a one-on-one situation.”

“That’s the least I would expect even if I didn’t go with you.”

Irritation flickered across his face. “I admitted I screwed up. I apologized. Just give me a chance to make this right.”

The hope that had flared died. “If that’s all you want, forget it. I told you it’s fine and I meant it.” Of course I was lying. It would never be okay. He’d shattered me so completely that it hurt to look at him, hurt to hear his voice.

He stalked around the desk, his mouth set in a hard line, his hands in fists. If I didn’t know him so well, I might be afraid he was going to hurt me physically, but I did know him and he’d already hurt me beyond repair, so I kept my seat and pretended not to care when he spun my chair and bent over it, his body in my personal space, his face so near mine I could press my lips to his with only the slightest shift forward. “That’s not all I want,” he said, his voice husky. “I want you in my bed and in my life. I want to wake up next to you and touch you and kiss you and laugh with you. I want to be there the next time you do something insane like that ropes course. I want to have dinner with you every night, even if it means I never eat meat again. I’d get lost in the woods again just to spend more time with you. I want to give you everything I have. Everything I am. Maybe it’s not enough. Maybe I should walk out of this office and stick to my original plan of keeping our relationship professional, but I don’t think I can do that. I couldn’t even follow through with that plan for two minutes of being back at work with you. I want you so bad, I can’t breathe properly, I can’t see straight. If you turn me down, I’ll let you go, but I can’t live with myself if I don’t at least try. Just give me one more chance to prove to you that you can trust me, to prove to you how much I love you.”

Hope flared back to life and I had to pull a long, slow breath in through my nose to maintain my calm composure and stop the tears from falling. It wouldn’t do to get too hopeful, to expect too much. Hope told me I had a future with this man, but logic suggested he wasn’t to be trusted, he wasn’t ready for commitment. “Fine,” I said. “You’ve got one hour.”

He grinned and grabbed my hand, pulling me to my feet. He let me go and started out of my office. “We’d better hurry, then.”

I followed him, hoping I wasn’t about to make a huge mistake. I hesitated as he strode down the hall to the elevator.

What the hell was I doing?

Was I actually giving him another chance to break my heart?

It was too much, I couldn’t…I just needed a second opinion.

He looked back at me, his smile fading. “Change your mind?”

“I need a minute. Just give me a minute.”

I stepped back into my office and closed and locked the door.

Since I’d gotten back to Atlanta, in the moments between thinking of Alex and trying to forget him, I’d remembered May’s glowing smile. I’d always looked down on her easy happiness, her haphazard way of bouncing through life following her passions, but seeing her again, seeing how happy she was, made me realize I’d been wrong.

I couldn’t help wishing I had a bit more of her joy in my life, her fearlessness. So I dialed her number.

“Hey, Jill.” There was the sound of clinking silverware and conversation in the background. “I’m at work, is it important?”

“I don’t want to interrupt you at work, I just needed some advice.”

“Really?” Her voice was so full of excitement I could picture her smile. “Hold on.”

The background was muffled, there was shuffling, and I heard May’s voice and her laugh. Then everything got quiet. “Okay,” she said. “I’m on my break. Hit me.”

I told her everything that had just happened. “You know what,” I said, after replaying the scene from an objective viewpoint. “I shouldn’t go with him. He’s feeling guilty about the way he ended things, but it was for the best. We’d never—”

“Stop. Do you love him?”

My heart pinched in my chest and my eyes stung. “Yes. So much it hurts.”

“Then you have to go with him. Love is worth taking risks, honey. Go with him and see what happens. If he screws up again, call me and I’ll drive down and help you kick his ass.”

“I’m not sure I can handle it. It hurt so much when he left me, when he acted like what we’d had was nothing. I should hold out for better.”

“Maybe,” she said. “But people make mistakes and people can change. You can hold out for better if that’s what you want, just make sure you aren’t holding out for perfect, honey, because that doesn’t exist.”

“Is that what I do? Was I too hard on you? Did I expect perfection?”

She laughed. “I think you’re hardest on yourself, but like I said, people can change. You can accept the occasional mistake and imperfection in yourself and in the people you love. Don’t ignore the good in your present because of the bad in your past.”

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