I stood at the stove, stirring in the fake powdered cheese that I inexplicably craved. It was my dirty secret. No southern girl should admit to liking boxed macaroni and cheese over the real stuff. While I stirred, I was running through my head the best way to organize my plan. I wanted it to hit all the emotional punches while highlighting my vision and insights. I knew it was an uphill battle, but I was giving it my best shot. I was hoping the board would be impressed with my by-the-people, for-the-people approach, as well as my medical research and background.

I sat on a stool with a bowl of mac and cheese in hand staring at my laptop screen. I had been working on creating a profile graphic including the company’s history, locations, overview, milestones, and figures, so the board would know I understood the ins and outs of Armstrong Labs. I’d been studying color theory to pick the perfect color combo for my presentation. I was using complementing blues, greens, and cyan. It was minimalistic and professional.

After the profile graphic, I would hit them with my brilliant mission statement. Or at least I found it to be brilliant. Even Kane had said it was golden. I shoved a large spoonful of mac and cheese into my mouth and wondered what Kane was doing tonight. Working on his house? On a date? Perfecting his plan? All three? Did he hate me now?

I needed to stop thinking about him and focus. Easier said than done.

I put my bowl down and tweaked some of the graphs, making sure my numbers and dates were correct before moving on to my mission statement graphic. That was the easiest slide. Next up was an overview of what I found to be our strengths, weaknesses, opportunities, and even our vulnerabilities. I was nervous about this section. I didn’t want to come off as incredulous by telling these people where I thought the company was weak and vulnerable. Although, my findings had come from speaking to our employees. Naturally, I’d researched each concern to make sure it was valid, as I knew I would be questioned about my conclusions and have to defend them.

Hour after hour and, sad to say, bowl after bowl of mac and cheese, I searched through notes and checked and doubled-checked figures and my own analyses. My eyes began to hurt so badly that I took out my contacts and went with my trusty glasses.

My head bobbed a few times, but still I pushed on. I may be a runner sometimes, but I wasn’t a quitter. I was a pro at all-nighters. Or at least I used to be. Somewhere along the way, I must have fallen asleep, as I woke to a gentle voice calling my name.

“Scarlett.” The voice sounded almost dreamlike. Or was that dreamy?

My eyes drifted open, and I realized my cheek was plastered to the granite countertop. Worse, there was a puddle of saliva near my mouth. Nice.

I sat up, wiped my mouth, and rubbed my neck, trying to recall the dreamy voice that had spoken to me in my sleep. I wasn’t expecting the voice to have a body, so it startled me when I saw someone next to me, and I almost fell off my stool. As always, Kane was there to witness my lunacy and save me from falling.

He chuckled while setting me straight. “Looks like your dinner is in your hair.” He picked a couple of noodles out of my untamed mane. I hadn’t bothered to style my hair today, as I had been working nonstop.

Ugh. Why? Why did he always find me in the most ridiculous situations? I must have fallen asleep too close to my bowl. I ran a hand through my hair to see if there were any more noodles in there. When I didn’t find any, I put my glasses on and focused on Kane. He, of course, looked perfect in his tight jeans and white tee, though his eyes looked a little red and worn and his hair was mussed. It looked as if he had just rolled out of bed and thrown on a pair of jeans. If that wasn’t sexy enough, his fine layer of stubble did me in. Why did he have to be so beautiful inside and out?

“What are you doing here?” I looked at the large clock on the kitchen wall. It was almost midnight.

He took a moment to look me over before answering. His expression bordered between pensive and determined. “I can’t take it anymore, Scarlett,” he breathed out. “This staying away from you, giving you your space, is killing me. Just tell me what you want, and I’ll do it.”

I took a moment to digest what he had said. “I . . . I don’t know what I want,” I stuttered, not ready for this conversation yet, though clearly he was.