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anyone else. I only want you. And I’m done with wondering what to do about it. You’re mine.”
    “What?” I asked, stupidly. I still wasn’t getting it. Or I was afraid to get it, afraid of what it might mean. Or worse, that my hopes and dreams had caused me to completely misunderstand.
    “You’re mine, Chloe. You’ve been mine for three years and neither of us realized it. But I’ve finally figured out what to do with you. So you’re staying here. And I bought you new clothes because you needed them. You deserve the best and I wanted you to have the best. So I got it for you. That’s my job. To take care of you.”
    Speechless, I shook my head at him. “You’re crazy,” I said. “The only ‘us’ we can have is in the office. There can’t be an ‘us’ outside of that.”
    “Why not?”
    “Because I work for you,” I said, frustration and confusion making my voice rise. “And I’m not the kind of woman who has an affair with her boss.”
    “I’m not talking about an affair,” Sam said, his own voice rising.
    “Then I don’t get it. You want to go out with me?” I asked, hesitantly, terrified I’d misread him and he was going to start laughing.
    “I think we’re past that stage, don’t you?” Sam said, laughing just a little. “I’ve spent more time with you than most men have with their wives.”
    “That was work.”
    “Was it only work? At lunch? Or the conversations we’d have in the car? Was that just work for you?”
    I might have continued to argue with him, but the faint note of uncertainty in Sam’s voice disarmed me. Instead, I shook my head.
    “No, of course not,” I said. “But we can’t get involved. I’d have to quit.”
    “Who said anything about you quitting?” Sam asked, alarm spreading across his handsome features. “You can’t quit.”
    “Well what would we do when you moved on?” I asked, trying to make him understand what it would be like from my perspective. He went from partner to partner, commitment never a big deal for him. I’d slept with one man in my life and I’d had only a few boyfriends since college, all short term. I wasn’t built for a casual affair.
    “Who said I was going to move on?” Sam asked.
    At that, I rolled my eyes and took another sip of my coffee. I loved Sam. I had for a long time. But he wasn’t made for long term monogamy any more than I was for sleeping around.
    The impossibility of the whole thing somehow made me feel like I was back on solid ground. Putting my mug on the counter, I got my breakfast back out of the warming oven where Sam must have put it while I got dressed and sat on one of the stools tucked beneath the island. “Chloe,” he said, interrupting me, “I’m serious.”
    Cutting my french toast into smaller squares, I resisted the urge to meet his eyes. “I know that you think you are, Sam. But this isn’t a good idea. I can’t have a relationship with you outside of work and still be your assistant. Maybe you could handle it, but I can’t. And I won’t sleep with you just because you’ve decided you want to have an affair with me.”
    “I’m not talking about an affair,” he yelled, startling me. Taking a breath, he lowered his voice. “I’m not talking about an affair. I’m talking about a relationship. Between us.” I was shaking my head before he could finish.
    “No. It wouldn’t work,” I said, taking a bite of French toast to cover my uncertainty. My heart hurt and I felt a little nauseous. For the first time in my life, I had absolutely no interest in breakfast, even one created with the culinary talents of Sam’s housekeeper. I was in love with Sam. I knew that. And I truly, deeply, sincerely did not want him to know that.
    Sam was a good man. But he wasn’t going to fall in love with me. He cared for me. I knew that he did. We had a great friendship. And I loved working for him. I had no idea why he suddenly wanted to change our relationship, but sleeping together would ruin