“I had to sneeze.” I should’ve taken her insurance information and driven off like any reasonable CEO with places to be would. She crashed into my car, for heaven’s sake. Because she had to sneeze. What did I do? I didn’t get in my car and drive away, if that’s what you’re thinking. Nope. I stuck around. I could suggest I stayed because she needed help, but the truth? She was really, really hot. We became fast friends. Then friends with benefits. Before I knew it, we were involved in an illicit office romance that had me fumbling through a drawerful of panties to get a Post-It. It was supposed to be easy—a fling, if you will. A dashing millionaire hero (*adjusts tie*) and a beautiful (stubborn, frustratingly independent, hell-on-wheels) damsel in distress. (Don’t tell her I said that.) It wasn’t supposed to be forever, but we did want a happy ending. (Pun intended.) We could’ve made it work, too. But one of us overcomplicated things with the L-word. And the other? They omitted a truth that changed everything.