Max and I returned to the office Thursday afternoon, and it was comical and absurd, but I genuinely think no one suspected I wasn’t in Houston or that Max hadn’t gone on one of his usual business trips to wherever, despite our matching tans. Because, of course, why would a man like that be interested in me?

Whether they suspected or not, however, everyone would likely know we had a special relationship in a few weeks. What would they say? That he’d been using me? Yes. That’s exactly what they’d say. The book would come out, Nancy Little would probably out me, and if she didn’t, people would still suspect. I really needed to stop pretending this wasn’t going to happen.

My only question was: What did Max really intend to do about it? It wasn’t that I didn’t trust him or his abilities to handle the situation, but I didn’t see a way through this. And my IQ wasn’t exactly in the “bucket of rocks” category.

I had to pin him down, which I’d planned to do tonight after work. But, just as I was packing up, my cell rang. It was Max.

“Hello?”

“Hi there,” he said, his voice totally charming.

“Where are you?” I asked.

“A dispute came up with the contractor in New Jersey. I’m getting on the plane to go hammer it out. I should be back tomorrow night. Callahan can take you back to my house if you’d like to stay there.”

“Oh.” I really wanted to talk to him tonight. Face to face, though. “No, I think I’ll just grab my car from your house and head over to my place. It’s not the same being there without you.”

“Just as long as you’re waiting in my bed when I get back—oh, by the way, I wanted to let you know I called Dr. Bloomfield. He can see you tomorrow morning first thing if you can make it.”

I really appreciated Max supporting my wishes like this. “Thank you. I really mean that.”

“Just remember, you promised to think this over.”

“I already have.”

“Think it over again,” he said. “Because you don’t really need to do this.”

I already knew what I wanted to do, but to be honest, Max’s repeated insistence that I rethink this was beginning to make me wonder. Why was he really so against this? It didn’t make sense.

“I promise to think it over again,” I said.

“Good,” he said. “Now, I know you’ll be missing my giant cock, and I want you to know that it will be thinking of you, too, tonight.”

I laughed. “Yeah. Well, tell your friend there not to worry. My vibrator’s been really neglected lately. We’re due for some good snuggle time.”

“Uh-uh. You throw that thing away. Nothing goes down there that isn’t attached to my body.”

“My, my. Aren’t we territorial?”

“You better fucking believe it,” he replied. “And I’ve already made out detailed plans in my head regarding how I intend to show you the many ways I take care of my territory.”

I heard a loud roar in the background.

“Plane’s taking off,” he yelled.

“Bye. See you soon,” I said into my phone.

“Bye, you fucking delicious piece of dirty woman.”

The call ended, and I tried not to smile.

Honestly, I’d been looking forward to seeing him and having our talk, but we’d been in this whirlwind, and I needed to catch my breath. Everything was happening so fast.

Yeah, I can wait one day to have that conversation. Besides, I should trust him. He had this situation handled. Right?

“Hey, Lily. There you are.”

I looked up at Mike, who had his laptop bag slung over his shoulder, looking ready to head out.

I cleared my throat. “Hi, Mike.” I hoped to dear God he hadn’t overheard what I’d just said about my vibrator. My door had been open.

“How was Houston?” he asked.

I shrugged casually, hoping I wouldn’t blush. “You know Texas in September: hot.” Okay, another lie. But my trip had been hot, especially the man between my thighs.

“Yeah, you look like you got some sun,” he said.

You should see my ass from naked sunbathing while Mr. Cole tried to read the morning paper. “I burn pretty easily. It’s very annoying.” I looked down at my sleeveless white blouse and white skirt. I really did look like strawberry ice cream with vanilla swirls.

We stared at each other for an awkward moment, and then I realized what he was likely thinking: I forgot about him. “Hey, Mike. I know that you asked me to—”

He held up his hand. “It’s okay. I know when I’m being blown off. I never should’ve asked you to begin with, us being coworkers and all.”

“No. It’s not that, it’s just…I’m seeing someone, and it’s getting serious.” God, this felt so awkward. And I hoped he didn’t put the pieces together, but the cat would be out of the bag soon anyway.

“Oh. I didn’t know that. You never mentioned him.” Mike bobbed his head.

“We haven’t known each other long—just sort of happened.”

“Completely understandable,” he said.

“Great. Thanks for understanding.”

“Yeah, of course. I actually came by to invite you to grab a beer. A couple of us are going around the corner to the pub to talk about the news. No one can get any work done like this.”

“What news?” I asked.

“I guess you were really busy in Houston.”

“Yeah. I was.”

“The rumor mill says B&H is going to do a hostile takeover the minute C.C. goes public.”

“How could anyone know that?” I asked.

“They’re raising cash. A lot of cash. That means they’re getting ready to buy someone.”

It didn’t make any sense. C.C. was four or five times larger than B&H. Little companies didn’t go around buying up larger ones. It was the other way around.

It had to be a rumor, but hey, if people wanted to use it as an excuse to go drink some beer, who was I to get in their way?

“Thanks for the invite, but I’ve got some work to finish up and have a doctor’s appointment early in the morning.”

“Sure. Next time, then?” Mike said with a friendly tone.

I didn’t want him to think I was completely blowing him off. “Absolutely.”

He left, and I felt relieved that was over. Honestly, I liked Mike, but I was falling hard for Maxwell Cole, leaning strongly toward the “L” word, and I couldn’t see myself with anyone else. Not now. Not ever.

~~~

Friday morning.

Dr. Bloomfield was the best of the best plastic surgeons in the country, according to my research (aka web surfing), and after meeting with him, I had only one question: When could I have the surgery?

The consultation took all of thirty minutes, but with his computer graphics program he was able to show me exactly what I would look like after six hours of surgery—rhinoplasty, chin reshaping, and an eye lift. Three simple procedures. Three.

Staring at the screen, I could hardly believe that was all it would take to make me look normal and, dare I say, beautiful. It felt like I’d been living in a prison, deprived of sunlight, food, and water my entire life, when right there, all along the key sat on the floor inches from my face. No, I hadn’t had the money to do surgery before, but had I known how easy it was to fix this, I would’ve found a way.

But you wouldn’t be the same person, now would you?

True.

However, like I’d told Mr. Cole, I was ready to move on. More importantly, I really needed to start confronting the deeper issues in my head—those years of buried insecurities I’d hidden away.

“How long would I be out from work, and when can we do it?” I asked, sitting on the exam table.

Dr. Bloomfield, a fit-looking man in his fifties with glasses and a sprinkle of silver hair, stood up from his little rolling stool. “Normally, people need about a week to be functional—depending on the pain—but you should expect a full recovery from the bruising in about a month. As for when, I’m booked six months to a year in advance; however, the Coles are good customers and personal friends. I’ll see when I can fit you in.”