Not even six hours later, I’m on her doorstep with a box of doughnuts, two coffees, a chocolate milkshake and the morning LA Times tucked under my arm. It occurred to me at about five o’clock that her car is still at Flynn’s, so she’s stuck at home. Around the same time, it occurred to me that we have at least a dozen people on our payroll who I could call and instruct to pick up the car and get it to her.

But I didn’t do that.

No, I showered, shaved, got dressed for work and found myself at Kettle Glazed in Hollywood, getting breakfast and driving to Venice Beach to deliver it in person.

I’m nothing if not a glutton for punishment.

Aileen comes to the door, and the first thing I notice is that the dark circles that were under her eyes when we first met are back, indicating a restless night.

She lights up with delight at the sight of me. “Hi.”

When was the last time someone was that happy to see me? Never that I can recall.

“Come in.” When she steps aside to admit me, my gaze is drawn to the silky, formfitting robe she’s wearing. Everything about her is petite and delicate and fragile, which is why I can never unleash my inner beast with her. I’d break her in half.

“How’s Maddie?” I ask, sticking to safe terrain.

“Still sleeping. She was up a few times during the night.”

I hand her a coffee. “I figured you might need this.”

“God bless you.”

Her pleasure in simple things is refreshing. “It’s got cream but no sugar. Wasn’t sure how you took it.”

“Just like that. I gave up sugar in my coffee years ago.” She takes a sip and makes a sound that reminds me all too much of last night and the interlude on her sofa.

I let my eyes shift to the “scene of the crime,” and my cock twitches with appreciation of the memories.

Knock it off, I tell myself—and my cock. That’s not why you’re here.

Isn’t it?

Shut the fuck up!

I’m not sure who my inner voice is talking to, but he’s got my attention. I keep my eyes on her face and resist the urge to let them wander. “I was thinking that your car is at Flynn’s, and you might need a ride to get it.”

“That’s so nice of you. I was just starting to think about how I was going to retrieve my car and my son.”

“I’ll take you.”

“Don’t you have to go to work?”

“I said I’ll take you.” That comes out sharper than intended, and I immediately regret that. “Sorry.”

“Are you okay?”

I’m starting to get fed up with people asking me that, especially her, because it’s completely her fault that I am anything but okay. “I’m fine. I own the company. I get there when I get there.”

“All righty, then.”

I’m fucking this all up. “And I sound like an arrogant douche, which wasn’t my intention.”

She smiles, and her amusement pisses me off. I’m off my game with her, and that too makes me crazy. I’m never off my game with women. Unlike most men, I’ve never found them particularly complicated or hard to figure out. But she is different. She’s unlike any woman I’ve ever known, and that has me off-kilter and out of sorts. I don’t even know what I’m doing here when I vowed, only a few hours ago, for fuck’s sake, to stay away from her.

“I only meant that I have time to take you. If you want me to.”

“I want you to.” She reaches for my hand, and I meet her halfway, giving her my hand, again before I consciously decide to. If she only knew the power she has over me. It’s frightening. “Let’s go outside and have our coffee.”

Like the lap dog I am with her, I let her lead me to the deck, where we sit next to each other on the same chairs we occupied last night.

“I love having a deck and a yard and being able to have my coffee out here in the morning.”

“It’s pretty. Ellie did a nice job with the yard and gardens.”

“I can’t believe she did everything herself. I’m so envious. I want to know how to do all that. She said she’ll teach me.”

I hang on her every word, filing away each new piece of information she offers, adding them to the growing collection of things I know about her.

“I’m used to having a super I could call to fix things. I don’t want to be that kind of tenant for Ellie.”

“I’ll help you if you need something.”

“That’s sweet of you to offer, but I want to be able to do it myself. I’m used to being self-reliant.”

My inner Dom wants to stand up and rage against that statement. I want her to rely on me and only me. I thought we weren’t doing this, my annoying inner voice says. I want to tell him to shut the fuck up. He’s not in charge here. I am. Needing to move, I get up. “How about a doughnut? You gotta try one of these. They’re all the rage in Hollywood.”

“I won’t say no to that.”

I go inside to retrieve the box of doughnuts, forcing myself to calm down while I’m in there. I hate being out of control and off my game. Control has been the centerpiece of my life. Maintaining it has allowed me to go from a homeless street urchin to the top of my profession. Losing it is not an option, and I’d do well to remember that. After a few deep breaths, I return to the deck with the box of doughnuts.

She watches me with insight that rattles me. It’s like she can see inside me, which puts me at a distinct disadvantage.

I open the box and present it to her, the sugary scent flooding my senses—and hers.

“Mmm,” she says, licking her lips.

Naturally, my cock stands up with interest at the movement of her tongue over her lips.

“Is that chocolate frosted glaze?”

“I believe it is.”

“Oh my God. Sign me up for that.” She takes the doughnut, and I close the box, putting it on the table next to us. “You’re not going to make me eat alone, are you?”

“I don’t do sugar,” I tell her as I return to my seat.

“Ever?”

“Ever.”

“Why?”

“I eat clean—no sugar, nothing processed, very few carbs.”

She cringes. “I don’t think I could do that. I love carbs.”

“I do, too, but after not eating them for years, whenever I do, I feel sick. So, I avoid them. But you go ahead and enjoy that doughnut. Don’t mind me.”

She takes a bite and then another, before putting it on a napkin and depositing it on the table.

“You don’t like it?”

“I’m sure I’d love it if I could actually taste it. The chemo messed with my taste buds, making everything taste funny. They say it’ll get better eventually. Any time now.”

The word “chemo” fills me with anxiety. I want to know exactly what she had, how she was treated, what the long-term prognosis is, how she feels right now. I want to know everything. I want to know that she’s getting the best possible care. But I can’t ask. I don’t have the right to.

“It’s a lot,” she says softly.

“What is?”

“Me and my kids and my illness. I’d understand if it’s too much—”

“It’s not.” It’s way too much. All of it, especially the way she makes me feel, but I’d never tell her that.

“Kristian—”

I reach for her hand and link our fingers. “It’s not too much.” We’re not getting involved here, remember?

Shut up. Just shut the fuck up.

“Could I ask you something?”

Anything. “Sure.”

“What exactly is it that you do at Quantum? I know you’re a producer, but I’m not sure what that means.”

Her question puts me on much safer ground, even if holding her hand is better than the kinkiest sex with other women. “Basically, it means that I pull together the pieces for every project. I find the material, bring it to my partners, decide with them what we’re going to do—and what we’re not going to do. The role is a little different at Quantum than some other production outfits, because we do most of our projects ‘in house,’ meaning the partners star, direct, film, etc. Right now, I’m preparing for the release of Insidious while guiding four other films through the various stages, from financing to discovery to casting to filming to postproduction to distribution to release to release on DVD. It never ends. At the top of our list right now is the project we’re doing based on Natalie’s story. It’s Flynn’s passion project, and we’re excited about it. On top of all that, I’m also the managing partner, in charge of personnel and HR, among other things.”

“Wow,” she says. “You must have insane organizational skills.”

“I guess I do, but I also have an amazing team that supports me. They don’t let things fall through the cracks.”

“It’s impressive.”

“What is?”

“All of it. Everything you do. And for what it’s worth, I’m a huge fan of Quantum’s films. I think I’ve seen Camouflage a dozen times.”

“That was a very special film for us.”

“It was incredible.”

“I’m glad you thought so.”

“Everyone thought so.”

I smile at her, pleased by her approval of my life’s work. “That’s nice to hear. Sometimes I wonder if what we do matters—”

“It does matter. When I was so sick I couldn’t do much of anything, I watched movies like a fiend. I don’t know that I would’ve gotten through it without being able to lose myself in other people’s stories. They kept me from spending too much time thinking about my own situation and freaking out about what was going to happen to me and my kids.”

“I hate to think of you sick and afraid.”

“It was a rough year, but I’m better now.”

I’m tied up in knots. I want to ask if she’s going to stay that way, if she needs more treatment, if I need to be terrified that I’m going to lose her after only just finding her. I can hardly breathe as these thoughts come over me, one after another.

The baby monitor on the table crackles to life when Maddie coughs.

Aileen releases my hand and gets up to go to her daughter. “I’ll be right back.”

“Take your time.” I have no fewer than ten million things I need to get done today, but none of them matter when stacked up against what Aileen needs. So I wait, and I try not to think about what it means that I’m here, that I’m captivated, that I’m terrified.

He came back. I’m so full of giddy joy this morning I don’t know what to do with myself. When I woke alone, I feared that maybe he’d changed his mind. But I didn’t have to wait long to find out he hadn’t.

I step into Maddie’s room and find her sitting up, her eyes bright and alert, which is a huge relief after the trauma of last night.

“Hi, baby.” I sit on the bed and smooth the hair back from her face. Washing the blood out of her hair is my priority now that she’s awake. “How’re you feeling?”

“Okay.”

“Does your head hurt?”

“A little.” She yawns and then grimaces. “Ouch.”

“You’re going to need to take it nice and easy today.”

“I don’t want to take it easy. I want to go to the beach and go swimming.”

“We’ll be back to doing that in no time, but today is a rest day. We’ll snuggle and read books and watch movies and relax.”

What sounds like a perfect day to me doesn’t appeal to my high-energy child, but she’ll do what she’s told because she always does.

“Mr. Kristian came to check on you, and he brought doughnuts.”

Her eyes light up with delight. “He really came to check on me?”

I’m touched that she cares more about him than the treats he brought. “Of course he did. He was worried about you. Everyone is.”

“That’s nice of them. Is Logan here?”

“No, he slept over at Natalie’s house, but Mr. Kristian is going to drive us over there to get him. Our car is still there. But first things first, we need to get you in the shower to get you cleaned up. Do you feel up to that?”

“Uh-huh.”

Aware that Kristian has put his workday on hold for us, I hustle Maddie through a shower and get her dressed. She can eat her breakfast in the car on the way to Nat’s house. When we’re dressed and ready, I grab a small bottle of apple juice. “Good to go,” I tell Kristian, who’s still on the deck, typing on his phone.

He glances up at me, and before he can school his features, I see everything I’ve ever wanted looking at me with heat and desire and affection. Then he smiles, and it’s all I can do not to turn into a puddle of need when the dimples make a rare appearance. “How’s our patient feeling this morning?”

“Good,” Maddie says. “My owie hurts.”

He gets up, grabs the box of doughnuts and comes to us, sliding the screen door open and crouching to Maddie’s level. “I’m sure it does, but you were so brave last night. Such a big girl.”

My daughter leans into me, suddenly going shy in the face of such powerful male charm. Like her mother, she’s only human, and he’s quite something.

“Kristian brought us yummy doughnuts.” I take the box from him and let her choose one.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He stands, takes the aviators from the top of his head and puts them over his eyes. “Shall we, ladies?”

We head out to the car, and what was perfectly fine last night in the middle of an emergency has me second-guessing today as I strap Maddie and me into the passenger seat. “Please don’t crash. This is so against the law, it’s not even funny.”

His hand lands on my knee, sending a powerful surge of longing through my body. “You’re totally safe with me. All of you. I’d never let anything happen to you.”

I sigh, because how can I not? He’s perfect, and if I could spend every day for the rest of my life just like this—my arms around my children and his arms around me—I’d never want for anything.

Whoa, Nelly. Back it up, sister. Talk about getting ahead of yourself. If he had any idea the thoughts I’m having about him, I’d probably never see him again. Even with my better judgment raining on my lovely parade, I can’t help how I feel. It’s been different with him since the first day I met him, and I’ve begun to accept that I’ll always feel more for him than I probably should, especially since he’s going to be one of my bosses.

PC—or pre-cancer—I might’ve talked myself out of feeling the way I do about him. It’s not practical or advisable, but I don’t care. AC—after cancer—I know life is short and feelings like the ones I have for him don’t come around every day. I’ll be damned if I’m going to run away and hide the way I would have before life gave me a mighty bitch slap and a potent reminder that time is finite, good health is a gift, and life is to be celebrated and lived to the fullest.

I want him. I want his hand on my knee in the car. I want his big, strong, sexy body wrapped around mine in bed at night. I want him to really know my kids. I want him in our lives—any way I can get him—and his actions last night only make the wanting more so in the bright light of this glorious Southern California day.

“Would you like to come for dinner later?” I ask him, trying to affect a casual tone. I think I pull it off quite convincingly. “I want to thank you for everything last night.”

“You don’t have to thank me. I was happy to be there with you both.”

“Still, we need to eat. You need to eat. And I’m a very decent cook, if I do say so myself.”

He keeps his gaze, covered by those maddening sunglasses that seal off his gorgeous eyes, on the road, so I can’t tell what he’s thinking. After a long silence, he says, “Sure, that sounds good. What time?”

“Around six thirty? Or is that too early for you? I could feed the kids and then—”

He squeezes my knee, which shuts me up. “Six thirty is fine. What can I bring?”

“Nothing. You’ve already done more than enough for me. Let me do something for you.”

He glances at me quickly and then returns his attention to the road. “You don’t have to do anything for me, Aileen.”

“Why not? Is friendship a one-way street in your world?”

“No,” he says, sounding uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation.

I should let it go, but I can’t. “Let me tell you how friendship works in my world. You arrange for me to have a car and a job and a whole new life. You rush to the aid of my injured child, accompany us to the ER and stay with me until you’re certain I’m not going to have a complete meltdown afterward. Then, you show up this morning when you certainly have better things to do, bearing doughnuts and the offer of a ride to pick up my car. After all that, I’ll need to make you dinner every night for a year to properly thank you.”

After another long silence, he says, “I didn’t have better things to do this morning.”

“Right,” I say with a laugh. “If you say so.”

“I say so.” He squeezes my leg again, and I swear to God, if my child hadn’t been injured and strapped to me, I might’ve been tempted to throw off my seat belt and make myself at home on his side of the car. One squeeze is all it takes to make me crazy for him.

“My mommy is a really good cook,” Maddie says. “She makes yummy chicken and mac ’n cheese, too.”

“I love chicken,” he says, seeming more comfortable talking to her than he is talking to me.

They keep up the chatter about silly things all the way to Flynn and Nat’s house. Kristian’s hand remains on my leg except for when he needs to shift the car. Each time he shifts, he puts his hand right back on my leg, making me yearn to be alone with him. But that’s not to be. Not now anyway.

Kristian has the code to the gate and punches it in. It swings open to admit us, and we pull up next to my car, which is right where I left it last night. So much has happened since then that my head spins as I try to process it all. He gets out of the car and comes around to help with Maddie, who’s still a little wobbly on her feet. Seeing that, he scoops her up into his arms, and she goes to him like it’s something she’s always done.

My heart swells to an unhealthy size, watching him carry my little girl.

She winds her hands around his neck, and he tightens his hold on her.

It’s too much for me, and not enough at the same time.

Kristian walks right into the house like he’s done it a million times before, which he probably has. These people are family to each other, and they’ve made us feel so welcome among them.

We find Natalie and Logan at the pool, where he’s splashing around while she keeps a close eye on him.

Logan jumps out of the pool and rushes over to us.

Kristian puts Maddie down, and Logan hugs her tightly.

Again with my heart. It can’t take the overload of emotion today, and it’s only ten o’clock!

“Are you okay, Maddie?” he asks, pulling back for a look at the bandage on his sister’s forehead.

“Uh-huh, but I had to get shots in the head!”

“Holy crap. Did it hurt?”

“So bad.”

He winces. “I’m glad you’re okay. You wanna swim?”

“She shouldn’t get the bandage wet,” I tell him.

“She can put her feet in.” He takes his sister by the hand and gently leads her to the steps, waiting for her to get settled before he lets go of her.

“He’s incredibly sweet to her,” Kristian says.

“He’s almost always like that,” I say, keeping my hand flat on my chest as if that alone will contain the emotion.

Natalie hugs me. “He’s been so worried. How you holding up, Mama?”

“As long as she’s fine, I’m fine.”

“Did you get any sleep?”

I glance at Kristian, who’s expressionless as he keeps an eye on the kids. “A little.”

Natalie’s eyebrows lift, but thankfully, she doesn’t say anything.

“I should get to the office,” Kristian says.

“Flynn’s already there. I’ll be glad when this premiere is behind us.”

“There’ll be another one before we know it,” he says. “Keeps us in business.”

“I guess so, but no one told me celebrities work so hard.”

Kristian laughs. “They make it look so glamorous when it’s a ton of work.”

I want to hug him, but I manage to control myself. Barely. “Thank you so much for the ride and the doughnuts. And everything else.”

“No problem. I’ll see you later.”

“Okay.”

“Bye, guys,” he calls to the kids.

“Bye, Mr. Kristian.”

“Have a good day, ladies.”

I watch him go, because the view is as good from the back as it is from the front, and after he goes inside and slides the screen door closed, I find Natalie watching me as closely as I was watching him.