The next day I bang my head against the desk.

Must. Stop. Flirting.

I absolutely must. What is wrong with me?

I can’t believe I got that bawdy last night. I can’t even blame the wine. Because I know better. I was supposed to focus on arguing with Noah, finding things I dislike, reasons we wouldn’t work, and instead I flirted with him yet again. I write my mantra down in my notebook.

Must. Stop. Flirting.

But I don’t follow my own commands.

I keep arguing with him, like when I see him in the break room over the next week, and we debate who the best Bond is.

I say Pierce Brosnan, he insists on Daniel Craig.

We discuss when mason jars became okay for pretty much everything, and then we talk about murses. I don’t mind them, but he says no man should ever carry one.

And he sends me more paper airplanes. Sometimes he writes funny words in them. Sometimes he’ll suggest a random topic he wants to debate the next day—why does honey belong in mustard but not ketchup?—and other times his paper airplanes are a little flirty.

Every day, though, I find myself looking forward to these moments, and at the same time, I remind myself that getting involved with a young guy from work would be a huge mistake, and I don’t have room to make any.

A few days later, I stop by my boss’s office before I leave for the day. “I’m all ready for the show this weekend. We’ll go searching for our star.”

In a split second, he closes his laptop. For a moment I wonder if he was looking at pictures of that woman again. He turns his gaze away from the machine, and Leo leans back in his chair. “I have my treasure map. I’m ready.”

I thrust a fist in the air. “We won’t leave until we track him or her down.”

“We will be victorious.”

“Of course we will.”

As luck would have it, we do find a promising prospect at the chocolate show, a lovely, friendly, wildly outgoing woman with crazy curly hair, bright blue shoes, and a big personality. I hit it off with her instantly then learn something extraordinary.

She extends a hand. “Lulu Diamond.”

Ohhhhhhh.

Well.

That’s rather interesting.

She’s the woman from Leo’s past.

She’s the one I’d bet a lifetime of chocolate he still carries a torch for, even if he’d deny it under oath or severe tickling.

But requited or unrequited love isn’t for me to weigh in on.

“Ginny Perretti. Pleasure to meet you.”

She glances at my jewelry, a heart-shaped necklace my daughter gave me. “I love your necklace, and you have the best hair.”

I pat my red locks. “And you’re perfect. You’re hired. For anything and everything.”

“Excellent. I’ll be there tomorrow morning at nine a.m. on the dot.”

I decide I love her, and I’m pretty sure I want her to be my new best friend.

That’s one more reason I’m glad my company chooses her as our next rising star chocolatier.

But the weird thing is, when I sit down for lunch at the cafeteria a few weeks later and see she’s chatting with Noah at the salad bar, a small nugget of jealousy digs into me. I’m almost embarrassed that I’m the least bit envious.

I like Lulu. I consider her a fast friend, and I don’t want to feel so green, especially since nothing has happened with Noah.

I remind myself that Noah’s friendly, he talks to everybody. So when Lulu sits down with me to dine, I shove thoughts of him away once again.

That’s truly becoming my top sport—denying my desire for the hot young guy who’s become so much more than that. He’s become the man I’m interested in. Very, very interested in. Because this hot young guy is so good, and honorable. It’s not him, it’s me—my past makes me want to be very, very cautious.

“I’m so glad it’s you who’s the rising star,” I say.

“Well, I’m glad it’s me too,” she says.

“We need more chicks here at the office.”

“Girl power. I’m all for that.”

As we chat about her plans for the new line of chocolate, something whooshes over my head. A paper airplane lands in front of my tray, and a rush of heat spreads across my chest. “Noah,” I say, rolling my eyes to deflect but unable to hold in a smile.

“Noah sends you paper airplanes?”

I pick up the winged object. “He likes to send these to me at lunch. He’s such a goofball.”

“Regularly? He sends them regularly?”

“Once or twice a week.”

“Pretty sure that means he’s into you.”

I try to dismiss the idea, even though I know he is. But if I give in to it, I’ll give into him. And it’s too soon. “Oh, no. He’s just . . . festive.”

Lulu glances behind her, and Noah waves to me. “No. I think he has a thing for you. A big thing. The look on his face seems to say it all. What about you? Is it mutual?”

I’ve been storing all my worries inside me, and at last I have the chance to talk them through. I blurt out, “I’m thirty-five. I’m ten years older than he is. Is that terrible?”

“Only if you let it be terrible. But your face says you like him too.”

My stomach swoops. What am I going to do about all these butterflies? What am I going to do about Noah?

I look over at him, taking in his handsome face, his golden skin, his dark hair, and his smile. I don’t even want to admit it to myself, much less to her, but I think I need to.

“Maybe I do,” I say, since the truth feels better.

“Maybe someday, then, for the two of you.”

“Maybe someday,” I echo.

After Lulu leaves, Noah walks over, clears his throat, and hands me a paper airplane.

This one seems different than all the others, but the trouble is I don’t know if I’m ready yet to set aside my rules.

Even though I find myself wanting to more every day I spend around him.