Regan tucked her lips between her teeth and then let out a shuddered breath. “Zach, I can’t promise you to marry you just to calm your nerves.”

There was no hiding his disappointment. Obviously, there was no more to say. He stood and walked to the foot of the bed. Picking up his robe, he put it on and pulled it tight.

“I’m going to head down to the office.”

“Zach, it’s three in the morning.”

“I can’t be here now. I’ll have a cab pick you up at seven. We need to pull everything together for our trip to L.A. next week.” Without another word, he pulled a suit from the closet, walked back to the bathroom, and locked the door.

As soon as Zach left, Regan pulled herself from bed. She brewed a pot of coffee, showered, and readied herself for the day. When she looked at the clock, it was only four-thirty. There was plenty of time for her to stew in the misery she’d brought upon herself.

She sat down at the kitchen table and scrubbed her hands over her freshly made-up face. What the hell was wrong with her? She’d told her sister she didn’t think Zach was the kind of man who would walk away from her, but he’d proven her wrong. That was exactly what he’d done. He’d walked away from her at 3:18 that morning.

She shook her head. That wasn’t what had happened, and she knew it.

Zachary Benson loved her, and she was pushing him farther and farther away. It was only a matter of time before she lost him completely.

That was what she had wanted, wasn’t it? She’d never meant to fall in love with him. She’d promised herself she’d never fall in love with the man she worked forever again, but she had. She’d broken that promise to herself.

She wiped at the corners of her eyes where tears collected, before they fell. How could she have possibly let it happen again?

Pain filled her chest and fire burned her stomach. She was furious with herself. Zach didn’t deserve what she was putting him through. What could be worse—knowing she was hurting him or telling him her secret and watching him walk away from her? She wasn’t sure.

She poured the cup of coffee down the drain and washed the mug. The coffee in the pot was still hot when she poured it down the drain too.

Regan checked her makeup in the mirror by the front door. It was now only 5:15. She paced awhile and then fell onto the couch. Breathing deeply, she thought about it. She would tell him. It was time Zachary Benson found out what she had gone through and what she had done. It was better for him to know now and walk away from her. John would be in L.A. with him, and everything was so organized that when he fired her, he wouldn’t need an assistant for the meetings. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t hire a temporary assistant to take a few notes.

Regan stood and paced again.

The car he’d promised arrived promptly at seven. The traffic into Nashville was already congesting the streets, and Regan’s nerves began to unravel one by one.

In the lobby of the building, she stopped by the coffee cart and ordered each of them a coffee to kill a few more moments before she made her way up to the office. She was officially sick to her stomach.

Regan tapped her fingers impatiently on the cardboard holder that held the coffees as the elevator rose. When the elevator opened, she thought about riding it back to the lobby, but got off with the other employees and walked toward her office. The door was already open, which meant Zach had no doubt retrieved the documents he would brief her and John on before they left for L.A.

Regan set the coffees on the edge of her desk, tucked her purse in her bottom drawer, and turned on her computer. She freshened up her lipstick and ran her fingers through her hair. Picking up the coffees, she turned and opened the door to his office.

The laughter hit her first and then the fragrance of expensive perfume. Regan stood stunned at the long-legged woman who sat on the edge of Zach’s desk. Her legs crossed at the knees, her hand leaned back on the desk, and her long black hair cascaded down her back.

Regan grasped the tray of coffees harder, afraid she would drop them in the floor if she didn’t fling them at Zach’s head first.

He stood from behind his desk, giving the woman atop it a hand to her feet. “Regan, I didn’t realize it was already eight. We were catching up.”

Regan’s mouth tightened, and her eyes darted to the woman who stood at Zach’s side. She knew she’d lash out if she stood looking at them for one more second. As calmly as she could, she set the cups of coffee on the table to her side and turned to leave the room.

Zach hurried across the room and grabbed her arm and turned her toward him. “Regan”—he laced his arm around her waist—“I’d like to introduce you to Mademoiselle Simone Pierpont.”

Simone Pierpont glided across the office and extended a lean, well-manicured hand toward Regan. “I am so pleased to meet you. Zachary has not stopped talking about you in months. Even his mother is smitten with you, as was his father. May he rest in peace.” She covered her chest with her hand and sent Zach a loving look of condolence. “I would have been here for the funeral…”

“But she was busy schmoozing some sexy Italian on a yacht.” Zach picked up one of the cups Regan had set on the table.

“Tu es un idiot!” She laughed and Zach followed suit, but Regan stood dumbfounded between them. “Monsieur Benson thinks he knows all about me, but he is wrong. I was doing business.”

“I’ll bet.” He laughed, and her eyes widened and then shifted to Regan’s.

Simone waved off Zach’s comments and narrowed her eyes. “I’m glad you were not invited to go with us today!” She took the coffee from his hands and sipped, leaving her red lipstick on the lid. “We would not want you and your—your mean words.”

Zach winked at Simone, and Regan’s muscles tensed. She was glad she’d already set the coffees down or they surely would have dropped.

He was grinning when he turned back to Regan. “Simone is here to take you to brunch with her and my mother,” he said, interrupting her mental beating of the woman standing across from her.

The stewing she’d done at the house after he’d walked out on her, and the anger she’d felt seeing Simone on his desk, rushed through her body and left her weak from the shock of what Zach was proposing. “I couldn’t.” She shifted her eyes to Simone, and she could swear she could feel her blood boil. Where did this woman get off sitting on Zach’s desk, laughing at his jokes, and leaving her lipstick on his cup? “Miss Pierpont, thank you for the invitation, but Zach…Mr. Benson and I have so much work to do.”