Chapter One

      Olivia Lawson would rather walk naked in a hailstorm than say what she had to say to her boss.

      Again.

      She hesitated outside his office—which also happened to be in his house, because it was a really big house. Brady O’Keefe owned and headed an internet conglomerate and, except for her, all of his one hundred plus employees worked remotely from leased office spaces in L.A., Chicago, New York and Austin. He managed everything effortlessly from his six-thousand-square-foot command center in a very exclusive, very upscale housing development in Blackwater Lake, Montana.

      Her parents still lived in the house where she’d grown up, several doors down from the O’Keefes. She’d known Brady since they were kids and had worked as his administrative assistant for the last five years. Delivering the news that the professional relationship was about to end wouldn’t be easy. She knew that because she’d tried to do it twice before.

      As much as she loved her job, and dare she say it, cared for her boss, she had to make a break. She saw Brady not as her boss, but as a man. A handsome, charming, intelligent man. The problem was, he hadn’t noticed her as a woman. As far as Brady was concerned she could be a piece of office furniture. She was as necessary as a computer, desk or stapler. The reality had finally hit her that this wasn’t going to change and unless she wanted to end up a spinster with too many cats, she had to leave.

      His door was open, so she knocked on the frame of the doorway separating their offices and heard the usual grunt that meant she should come in. He was at the familiar spot behind his L-shaped desk, staring at the computer screen. His back was to her and, as always, he didn’t look up.

      “Brady, I need to talk to you.” His focus was extraordinary and normally she was awed by it. Not today. “There’s a fire in the kitchen and I called nine-one-one.”

      “Uh-huh.”

      In the spirit of today, this was the first day of the rest of her life; today was the day she was going to tell him that everything was going to change. But she couldn’t do that until he was listening. Time to get creative.

      She walked over to his desk and picked up the orange foam rubber ball that he squeezed when deep in thought. After crushing it in her palm, she threw it at his head. Hard.

      He glanced over his shoulder. “The kitchen’s not really on fire, is it?”

      “So you heard me.”

      “I always do.”

      If only that were true. “There’s something I have to tell you.”

      “I guess it’s important enough to hurl spheres at me.” He slid his chair away from the computer, swiveled and faced her. Then he picked up the orange ball that had landed on his desk. Squeezing it he said, “Okay. You have my undivided attention.”

      Since turning fifteen years old, she’d wondered how it would feel to have all his concentration focused on her. This token of his interest wasn’t what she’d had in mind, but sadly, it was all she would ever know. And that wasn’t enough for her. But this was a poor substitute. She had to get away before her spirit shriveled and disappeared.

      “I’m giving my notice.”

      “Of what?”

      For a smart guy, he could be irritatingly dense. Or he was deliberately deflecting, hoping to get her off message. Not this time. This time was going to be different.

      “I’m tendering my resignation.”

      “You’re leaving me? There’s nothing tender about that.”

      “Not you.” That was a lie of self-protection. No way could she tell him how right he actually was. “I’m leaving your company.”

      “You’re abandoning me?”

      “You’re so melodramatic. Not everything is about you.”

      He squeezed the orange ball until