It doesn’t matter how long I stare at my computer screen, I can’t make sense of the accounting statement I’m supposed to be reviewing. The words and numbers keep swirling into a jumbled mess, which makes the dull headache hammering against my temples feel even worse than it did when I first arrived in the office.

The truth of the matter is that I’m not interested in being here today, and I really don’t want to have to deal with the hundred or so mundane issues my position as the head of Caldwell Industries means I have to oversee.

I want to be with Caitlin, learning what makes her tick, what makes her smile, what made her brave enough to trust me with her body last night…

When I woke up this morning, she was already gone. The only proof I could find that she’d actually been in my apartment, and that dinner and the mind-blowing sex we’d had afterwards wasn’t just a figment of my imagination was the pair of ski socks I’d loaned her. I found them draped across the back of one of the kitchen chairs.

That was it. No note. No text. No nothing.

I pulled out my phone, fully intending to call her, to make sure she was okay, to ease any doubts or regrets she might have, only to discover that, in addition to never actually discussing the possibility of getting married and having a child, we also failed to exchange numbers.

I tried calling her florist shop, but only got a machine. I left a short message, nothing more than my personal cell phone number and a quick request to give me a call, but she is either busy or ignoring me.

Too antsy to focus on the accounting report or anything else related to Caldwell, I hit the page button on my desk phone. “Janet?”

“Jeremy.” Janet’s reply is terse, a sure sign she’s in the middle of something. Normally, I wouldn’t bother her when she’s busy, but today I just can’t work up enough energy to worry about her ire.

“Could you come in here for a minute?”

I hear her muttering something unflattering under her breath just before I disconnect the intercom.

A few seconds later, the door swings open and a grim-faced Janet storms into the office. “What?” she snaps. Temper flashes in her eyes.

“It’s about Caitlin.”

Her expression softens, and she settles into the chair on the opposite side of my desk. “Oh! How did last night go? Did you work things out?”

“Not everything, but it was a good … evening.” There’s no way I’m about to tell her that instead of talking, Caitlin and I spent the night burning up the bed sheets. “You said that her father’s sick, that’s why she needs money. Why she was considering becoming a surrogate mother.”

Janet folds her hands across her lap and nods.

“What’s wrong with him?” I prop my elbows on the desk and steeple my fingers.

“Pancreatic cancer. Stage three.”

I wince. That’s not good. While not completely untreatable, pancreatic cancer is extremely aggressive. “And he doesn’t have any insurance?”

“According to my sister, Caitlin’s mom, they have insurance through his job, but it’s not very good. Not only is the company dragging their feet about approving treatment options, but they’ve also been taking a long time to pay for what they have approved. They’ve basically gone from having a comfortable lifestyle to being seriously concerned about money. The fact that they don’t know how long he’ll be able to work isn’t helping.”

“I want you to arrange to have him put on Caldwell Industries insurance. If you have to, talk to HR and have him hired in as an employee. Make sure he gets full benefits.”

For the first time since I’ve met her, Janet is speechless. She blinks at me, her wide eyes and astonished expression reminding me of an owl.

“That’s … amazingly generous,” she says when she finally finds her voice.

My mind is spinning, practically overflowing with ideas. “And then I want you to organize a committee.”

“For?”

“To set up a system that will help other people who are in a similar situation. Like a scholarship, but for medical expenses instead of schooling.”

“Seriously?”

I nod. “This whole medical insurance issue is a big mess and it’s never going to get straightened out. Caldwell Industries has the resources to provide some assistance. Where we can, I want to.”

Janet’s brows knit together. “Jeremy, this is going to be a huge undertaking. There’s going to be a lot of red tape. And the cost …”

“I know we can’t help everyone, but as long as we can help some, that makes a huge difference in the grand scheme of things.”

“And it’s good PR for the business.”

She’s right, but to me that’s secondary. Right now, the only thing I really care about is making sure no one else is forced to make the choice between a huge – and potentially risky – life changing sacrifice and helping a loved one.

I stand up. My eyes meet Janet’s. “I’m putting you in charge of this project.”

“Me?” she squeaks. “But I’m not qualified. I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

“You’re smart, organized, and a lot more qualified than you think.” I pull my heavy winter coat out of the closet and shrug into it. “There’s no one else I’d trust with something this important, so don’t argue with me. Just do it.”

“And where do you think you’re going?”

“Out. Home. I don’t know. I have a splitting headache and can’t take sitting in this office any longer.” I kick off my shoes and shove my feet into my favorite pair of warm boots.

“What about your afternoon meetings?” Janet askes.”

“Run them yourself. You generally know more about what’s going on in this company than I do.” The words start out as a joke, but by the time I finish the sentence, I realize just how true they are. Without Janet, things wouldn’t run nearly as smoothly around here. “And you might as well give yourself a raise while you’re at it.”

Janet eyes narrow and she stands up. “I should take you up on that, just to teach you a lesson.”

“I’m not joking.” I brush a kiss against her cheek and hope that none of the sweet, flowery perfume will soak into my skin or clothing. “You’re seriously underpaid. If you don’t request a raise, I’ll handle the matter myself.”

Rather than wait for her response, I angle myself toward the door.

“When are you coming back?” Janet directs the question to my back.

“Tomorrow morning,” I call over my shoulder. “Unless I get a better offer.”

Three hours later I touch the side of my coat, checking to make sure the contract I had my lawyer draw up is still tucked safely into my pocket. Satisfied that it is, I let myself into Caitlin’s florist shop. A pretty, blond girl who looks like she’s in her early twenties looks up from the magazine she’s reading.

“Can I help you?” she calls out.

My eyes leap from one potted plant to another, hoping to catch sight of Caitlin’s bright hair among them. I don’t.

“Is Caitlin in?”

The girl shakes her head. “No, she ran upstairs. Said something about needing a nap.” She wrinkles her nose. “Which is kinda weird since she’s usually overflowing with energy.”

“Upstairs?”

“Yeah, she’s got an apartment up there.”

I haven’t even considered the possibility that she might live above her shop, but it makes sense.

“Are you a friend of hers?” the girl asks.

“Yeah.” Technically a lie, but the truth is complicated. Lovers is closer, but even that doesn’t exactly fit the relationship. In my mind, labeling someone as my lover requires that we spend more than one night together, and that she not bolt before I wake.

The blonde uses her thumb to point to a doorway behind her. There are so many plants gathered in that area, I wouldn’t have noticed the door without her help.

“Through there and up the stairs.”

I take the stairs two at time, nearly tripping over my feet in my haste to see Caitlin again, to hear her voice. It’s strange. In college, I’d had a few longer-term girlfriends, women I went out with for several months, and one I even considered asking to move in with me. I thought I liked, and possibly even loved them, but I never felt this strange compulsion, this need to be with them the way I do when it comes to Caitlin.

I scale the last stair and pause a moment, taking in my surroundings. The top floor is divided into two spaces that are bisected by the hallway. Both are, or rather were, apartments, but one has no door and it looks like Caitlin is using it as a kind of nursery/storage space for her plants.

Curious, but deciding that poking around the space won’t make a very good impression, at least not at this stage of the game, I turn to the closed door and knock.

I hear the distant sound of a door slamming and then feet stomping across the floor. The door before me swings open.

“Honestly, Tina, is it really so difficult-” Caitlin’s gaze lands on my face. Recognition flares in her eyes as her words die. “Jeremy.”

I grin at her. “Guilty as charged.” I look her up and down. “Nice towel.”

She’s wrapped in a pale blue towel that’s decorated with bright yellow ducks. Shampoo bubbles cling to her soaking wet hair and shoulders. The towel is large enough to cover all of her interesting parts, but short enough to show an impressive amount of sleek, damp thigh and the curve of her breasts. The sight causes my cock to swell as I wonder what she’d do if I slipped a finger between her wet skin and the towel and gave a tug. Would she shriek and pull away – or would she let it go and sashay closer?

Caitlin steps back, away from the door, before I have a chance to find out. “What are you doing here?” She backs up another step, leaving wet footprints on the dark blue carpet as she blinks owlishly at me.

I let myself into her apartment and close the door behind me. Tina strikes me as the kind of girl who would huddle near the foot of the stairs, trying to catch interesting bits of conversation. The last thing I want is for her to overhear this.

“I have some papers for you to look over.” I slip a hand inside my jacket, remove the thick white envelope and try to hand it to Caitlin.

She looks at it as warily as if I’m holding a live rattlesnake instead of an envelope. “What is it?”

“A pre-nup.”

Her brows shoot toward her hairline. “What?”

“I had my lawyer draw up a pre-nup just in case you agree to go along with my scheme and have my baby so that I can have the controlling share in Caldwell Industries.”

Caitlin shakes her head, the motion causing some of the suds to slide down her hair, over the swell of her breast, and to catch on the edge of the towel. “I didn’t agree to anything. We never even discussed it last night. We were too busy …” Her words trail off, and her face turns bright red.

I stare at the suds and decide that we’ve talked enough. I push my jacket off, barely noticing as it falls to the floor, and close in on Caitlin. Startled, she squeaks wordlessly as I wrap my fingers around her elbow.

“What are you doing?” she says, her voice just a little breathless.

I turn her around, nudging her toward the door, where steam is billowing out. “Making sure you get back into the shower so you can rinse your hair before your hot water heater runs dry.”