Professional Boundaries

Prologue

“YOU KNOW I’M CRAZY ABOUT you, right?” Ian brushed back my hair. I loved it when he did that.

Normally, I would have replied, “Yes, but I’m crazier for you.

” But not tonight. Believe me, I was more than crazy for him.

I was head over heels, shut the front door, stop the presses in love with him, and I had decided tonight was the night I was going to tell him.

Before I did, I reached up on my tiptoes, tugged on his shirt to pull him closer, and kissed those lips of his once.

Then I went in for the kill. “I love you, Ian Greyson.”

He faltered back and swallowed hard with a deer-in-a-headlight look.

Okay, that wasn’t the reaction I wanted, but this was Ian, so I wasn’t too surprised.

After all, I was the one who pursued him.

Even though he thought I was too young, he eventually relented.

I was eighteen at the time, and he was twenty-five going on sixty.

I smiled nervously and stepped closer to him.

“Ian, it’s okay if you don’t say it back right now.

I just couldn’t hold it in any longer.” I wrapped my arms around him, waiting for him to reciprocate, but he was stiffer than his starched collar. “Ian?”

“Kelli, you’re too young to be in love.”

I leaned away from him and laughed. “Did you really just say that?” Sometimes he sounded like my dad.

“Why do you have to complicate things?” He sounded angry.

“How is me loving you complicating things? Because, FYI,” I poked his chest. “I’ve been in love with you for months.”

It was true, and I had calculus to blame.

I was a pretty smart girl—I even had a full-ride to my little private college set against the beautiful Rocky Mountains in Colorado—but for some reason, I couldn’t get calculus, and I needed to in order to keep my full-ride.

That’s when I met Ian. He was in grad school, completing his MBA, and to make some extra money, he tutored.

It was the best money my dad ever spent.

I’ll never forget the first time I saw him sitting in the campus library, looking more serious than any twenty-five-year-old should flipping through the Wall Street Journal, but there was something about him.

I don’t think most women noticed him, and that was a shame because once you got past his serious exterior, he was a charming and considerate fellow.

And he was actually quite handsome, but that was muted by his clothing and quiet mannerisms. He had dark brown hair with a slight curl that begged you to run your hands through it, and those Hershey Kiss eyes of his were easy to get lost in.

His strong jaw line that was always cleanly shaven and smooth didn’t hurt either.

He was like Clark Kent. He even wore the same thick glasses as him.

And even though Ian dressed like a forty-year-old in khakis and polos, to me he was adorable.

“This wasn’t in my plan. I’m not ready for this kind of commitment,” he stammered.

Ian had his whole life mapped out, and he wanted to map mine out, too, but I refused.

Sure, I liked goals and a rough outline, but I also liked the freedom to do what seemed right in the moment, regardless of plans.

Besides, I was young, and he was too, but somehow, he always forgot that.

Don’t get me wrong, I loved his drive and dedication, but he really needed to simmer down sometimes.

I succeeded, once in a while, in getting him to take it down a notch or two, but it was a hard job—a job I dearly loved.

“Ian, I’m not asking you to commit to me for life . . . yet,” I teased.

He didn’t look amused at all, so I kept talking.

“I’m happy where we’re at. I just wanted you to know how I feel. I’m not expecting anything from you.”

He narrowed his eyes and pressed his lips together before he began to pace back and forth in front of my apartment.

I stood in front of the door and watched him.

The summer breezes I loved so much ruffled his hair.

The beautiful Colorado weather was one of the reasons I had decided to stay the summer term after my freshman year instead of going back home to Tennessee.

But it was mostly because of the distraught man in front of me.

I started to wonder if that was a mistake now.

As he walked past me, I grabbed onto his hand. “Ian . . .”

He looked at me with eyes as hard as stone. I wasn’t sure I had ever seen him look so cold; it gave me shivers in the warm summer air.

“Why did you have to ruin everything, Kelli?” He sounded half determined and half in despair.

My eyes pooled with tears. In the nine months we had been dating, Ian had never made me cry. “Ian, what are you saying? Forget I said anything. I’m sorry.”

He let go of my hand. “I’m sorry too, Kelli,” his voice cracked.

And that was it. He left me standing there, inconsolable with tears silently falling down my cheeks, feeling like January in July.