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“Appropriate boundaries.” The words taste bitter, like everything I’ve been using to hide behind. “Is that really what you want?”

“I... what?”

I step closer, close enough to feel the warmth radiating between us, close enough to see the confusion in her eyes, the hurt I put there with all my careful distance. The world narrows to just this moment, just us, standing in the glow of a streetlight with the distant hum of the bar behind us.

“Because I’m finding it hard to keep my distance when all I can think about is how much I want to—”

The kiss isn’t polished, professional, or CEO-appropriate. It’s desperate, messy, and perfect. My hands cup her face like she’s something precious, while her fingers clutch my shirt. There’s no board, patent challenges, professional boundaries, or ClaraBrighton, with her knowing smiles and our shared history for one glorious moment. It’s just us.

Emma’s lips are soft against mine, her body fitting against me exactly as I’d imagined in all the moments I pretended not to notice her. The scent of her perfume surrounds me, familiar and intoxicating. I pour everything I can’t say into the kiss – apology for my distance, gratitude for her brilliance, hope for something more than professional collaboration.

A dog barks sharply nearby, shattering the moment. Reality crashes back in—the board, the company’s future, everything I could be risking with this impulsive act.

I step back, horror dawning as I realize what I’ve done. The streetlight casts long shadows across Emma’s face, making her expression unreadable. Her lips are slightly parted, her eyes wide with surprise. I can’t tell if she’s shocked or angry or something else entirely.

“Emma, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have... that was completely inappropriate.” The words tumble out in a panicked rush. “I’m sorry.”

Something flickers across her face—disappointment? Relief? I can’t tell. And I’m suddenly terrified to find out.

Instead of waiting for her response, I turn and quickly walk back toward the bar, shame, and confusion warring with the lingering sensation of her lips on mine. What was I thinking? After weeks of carefully maintaining distance, I threw everything away in an impulsive kiss.

I catch Clara’s satisfied expression through the window as I approach the door. She came here to prove I’m still the impulsive CEO who lets personal feelings override judgment.

She’s wrong.

But I might have just proved her right, anyway.

And the worst part? For that one perfect moment when Emma was in my arms, I didn’t care.

Chapter Ten

Emma

I’m still thinking about last night’s kiss.

Not that I should be. It was completely inappropriate, totally unexpected, and absolutely not something I should be replaying in my mind while standing on Sophie’s doorstep with my favorite merlot. Yet here I am, lost in the memory.

The moment returns with startling clarity—the cool night air, the distant sounds of O’Sullivan’s behind us, Lucas stepping forward with determination in his eyes. His lips, both soft and insistent against mine, making my knees weak and my mind blank. His hands trembling slightly against my skin, betraying that beneath his decisive action was the same nervousness I felt.

And then how quickly it had ended. His face shifted from desire to horror before he muttered apologies and fled, leavingme standing on the sidewalk, fingertips pressed to my lips in disbelief.

You’re coming to dinner tonight, right?Sophie had texted this morning.Lucas stress-cooks when overthinking things, and he’s planning on making enough food for an army tonight at my place. Bring wine. You can thank me later.

I’d known immediately what she was doing—arranging for us to meet on neutral ground, away from office politics and professional boundaries. I hadn’t expected the flutter of nerves in my stomach as I contemplate seeing him again.

I shift the wine bottle from one hand to the other, then back again. Smooth the invisible wrinkles from my casual sweater for the fifth time. Twice, I’ve raised my hand to knock, then lowered it again, rehearsing potential opening lines:

So, about that kiss... Let’s pretend it never happened.

Or:That was some kiss. Want to try again?

Or maybe:We need to establish clear ground rules before I fall completely in love with you.

None of these options seems right. How do you address something that felt simultaneously so momentous and so fragile?

“Are you going to stand there all night?” Sophie pulls the door open before I can knock. “Or are you trying to communicate with my doorbell via telepathy?”

“I was thinking.”