“The flowers are for a Ms. Osborne.”

Apparently Andy was wrong. Sarah obviously knew Jane’s name. But maybe Sarah was wrong about the flowers being for Jane. Andy scanned the bouquet for a card. “Are you sure they’re for Jane? I don’t see her name anywhere.”

“Yes. Mr. Donovan emailed me to order them for her this morning before he went to his meetings.”

Just like that the warm fuzzy feeling was gone and the rage was back. So he’d found time to email his secretary with instructions on ordering flowers for Jane, but he couldn’t leave a simple note for the woman he’d screwed all night?

Fine. Just … fine.

Sarah stood and fake-swooned over the roses. “Aren’t they lovely? This one must be special. Mr. Donovan never lets anyone in on his private life. I had occasionally wondered if he was a cyborg.”

Andy’s hand tightened into a fist at her side. She’d never wanted to hit something so hard in her life—or someone. God help Blake Donovan when he arrived. For that matter, God help anyone who got in her way before then.

She spun toward the office when Sarah stopped her. “Could you put this note on Mr. Donovan’s desk?”

Andy spoke through gritted teeth. “Sure.” She snatched the note out of Sarah’s hand. Then, because she was compulsively nosy, she scanned the message before walking away. “Blake has reservations tonight at Menton?”

“Yes. They just called to confirm. Like I said—this woman must be special.”

Then her assumption that morning had been right. Blake had a whole evening planned for Jane Osborne—roses, dinner at the classiest restaurant in town. So much for giving him the benefit of the doubt. Now she’d give him the benefit of a knee to the crotch.

Sarah’s eyes flitted to a spot behind Andy. “Can I help you?”

Andy turned to see a young man carrying a small silver bag and a clipboard. “Yeah, I’ve got a package for Blake Donovan.”

“What is it today? Delivery central?” She’d lost her cool and didn’t even care anymore. Too bad if she snapped at the deliveryman—boy, really. It was Blake’s fault, not hers.

The boy’s eyes widened with apprehension. “Uh, I could come back…”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Give it here.” Andy held her hand out for the bag.

“It’s for a Mr. Blake Donovan. I’m supposed to only leave it with him.” He was one of those rule followers, apparently.

Well, rules were horseshit. What had been the point of the rules with her and Blake? It hadn’t gotten them anywhere. Hadn’t gotten her anything but heartbroken.

“Blake’s not here. This is his office, though.” She pointed to the sign on the wall. “See? Blake Donovan. If you have to leave it with him directly, then you are going to have to come back.”

His eyes danced from Andy’s to Sarah’s and back to Andy’s. “I’m not sure.”

“Just give me the damn package.” Andy was pretty sure the boy handed the bag over because of fear and not because she’d convinced him he was doing the right thing. “Thank you. I’ll make sure he gets it.”

“Wait, you have to—” Tentatively he held his clipboard toward her.

“Yes, yes, of course.” She wrapped the bag strap around her wrist and snapped the board from him. “Where do I have to sign?”

“On the line. At the bottom.”

Andy glanced over the receipt looking for the signature line when her eyes caught on the package description. Two-carat Lucida cut, platinum band, sized.

She almost dropped the clipboard. Her knees weakened and her breath left her entirely. All the anger she’d felt only a second before dissolved into a crashing wave of anguish. A diamond ring. It couldn’t be. There was no way.

In a daze, she finished with the delivery boy. She couldn’t say how she managed to walk when she barely had strength in her legs to stand, but the next thing she knew she was sitting behind Blake’s desk with the silver bag clutched in her grasp.

She took a deep breath and peeked inside the bag. Sure enough, next to a fancy-looking pamphlet and a bottle of cleaner, there was a small, black velvet box. The kind of box that only held jewelry, and small enough that the jewelry inside was limited to very few options.

Andy’s hand shook as she took the box out of the bag. She closed her eyes and flipped the top open, hoping with all her might that she’d read the receipt wrong and inside would be a pair of earrings.

But when she opened her lids again, she came face-to-face with the most beautiful ring she’d ever seen in her life. The two carats of rectangle diamond sat on top of a platinum band. Definitely worth more money than she’d ever made in a single year. It was breathtaking and gorgeous and if Blake presented it to her she’d dissolve into happy tears and she’d squeal even though she’d never been a squealer. Squee, even.

But the ring wasn’t hers. It wasn’t meant for her finger. And so the tears that splashed down her cheek were not of the happy variety. They also weren’t of the gentle variety—her face and nose were soon a mess of snot and salt while her mind spun with the horrible soul-crushing revelation that Blake Donovan was planning to propose to Jane Osborne.

How the hell had that happened?

They’d only been on a handful of dates—how had Blake decided that this woman was the one? They hadn’t even slept together—or not slept together—at least, that’s what he claimed. It was ridiculous that he was making such a big decision after such a small amount of time. But then—Blake liked to tell Andy how his lightning decisions were famous and spot-on. Here was her proof.

Though—and this was agonizing for Andy to admit—if Blake had ever asked her to marry him, she probably wouldn’t have said no. And they’d never even been on one date together. Not officially, anyway. Her stomach threatened to drop straight through her shaking knees.

It dawned on her that the way she felt about Blake could very well be the way he felt about Jane. That he could adore her every flaw and cherish the quality of their time rather than quantity. Maybe he didn’t need any longer to know that he would love her forever. After all, Andy was pretty confident that she would love Blake forever.

And if he did feel that way about Jane, then there was nothing that Andy could do to convince him otherwise. She could sabotage every single one of their encounters and he’d never waver. All her efforts had been a waste. Most important—there was no reason for her to stick around any longer.

The thought was her own lightning bolt, one that seared through her, cleaving her heart in half. She thought she’d felt broken that morning. She was wrong. This was ten times that pain. There was nothing she could imagine that would have hurt more.

With no tissues in the office, her swollen eyes were still leaking when she finally cleared them enough to write a note for Blake. Instead of writing all the rage-filled insults that she’d been collecting in her brain that morning, she wrote her letter of resignation. Hopefully the tearstains that streaked the paper would fade by the time he read it.

*   *   *

After a long morning of meetings that drifted into lunch, Blake was eager to get to the office. To Andrea. He hadn’t stopped thinking about her since he’d left her in his bed. Even while he’d finalized a huge IT contract, every thought had been on her—her eyes, her sassy mouth, the way she felt wrapped around him while he buried himself inside of her.

He missed her like it had been weeks since he’d seen her instead of hours. If he hadn’t left his phone in his locker at the gym, he’d have called and texted her a million times by now. Who cared? He’d buy a new phone. He’d buy the whole company new phones if they asked, that was the kind of mood he was in.

Luckily, he had the afternoon free. They’d have lunch together, then they could spend the rest of the day … well, the possibilities were endless. Though he had a few creative ideas. In the evening, he’d stop by Jane’s and deliver his bad news. Then it would be dinner with Andrea—a dinner neither of them would forget.