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      Ivy had two major problems.

      Problem number one was that she was pretty sure her career was officially over.

      For the seventh day straight she’d sat at her desk, staring at the computer screen, until her eyes burned with fatigue and strain. Instead of tapping across the keyboard the way they usually did, her hands lay limp and useless in her lap.

      Seven days, and she hadn’t written a darned word.

      What was once so clear to her, so obvious and logical, no longer made sense. The magic was gone. And the explanation was simple. She was a fraud. A charlatan. She’d been giving millions of trusting, naive women lousy advice.

      It was humbling and embarrassing to realize that everything she believed in, everything she knew about her life, was a lie. Or at the very least, grossly misconstrued. It was a wrong she needed to right or she feared it would gnaw away at her, little by little, until there was nothing left. Unfortunately, she didn’t have the slightest clue how to fix it. What her next move should be.

      Which brought her to problem number two. Dillon.

      She missed him.

      She missed him like she’d never missed anyone before in her life. The first time she’d walked away from him had hurt, but it had also been a relief. The fighting, the heartache—it had been over. All she felt this time was pain and loss. A deep, sharp ache in her chest, as though her heart had been ripped out, filleted, haphazardly sewn back together, then shoved back in the wrong way.

      After she’d kissed Dillon goodbye and the limo had set off to the airport, it had taken her exactly three seconds to realize, to admit to herself, that she loved him. The same as the first time, but completely different somehow.

      What they’d had back then was thrilling and complicated and volatile. It had burned hot and fast, but what she felt for him now was more mature and undemanding. Simple in its complexity. And deeper than she imagined possible.

      They had come full circle, and by letting go the first time, they had somehow grown together. It was finally their time. She was sure, all the way down to her soul, that they could make it work and that they would both be happy.

      At least a dozen times she’d opened her mouth to instruct the driver to turn around, to take her back. But she’d been too chicken to do it. How could she willingly destroy her own career? Admit to millions of readers that she was wrong? And how could she not?

      But what scared her the most, was what if he rejected her? What if he didn’t love her the way she loved him?

      What a pathetic excuse for a strong, independent woman she turned out to be.

      But damn it, she was sick of playing that role. And the honest truth was, that’s all it had been. A role. An act. When she stripped herself down to the core, to the real her, she was still the same old Ivy. Only a little wiser, she hoped.

      What it really boiled down to, the thing she had to decide once and for all, was would she rather be successful, or would she rather be happy?

      The answer came to her instantly.

      Definitely happy.

      Well, that wasn’t so hard.

      And who knows, May be someday she would be able to manage both. But one thing at a time. First she had to talk to Dillon.

      It was a risk. It was possible that he wasn’t willing to give her a second chance. He could have moved on by now. But she knew that was a chance she was willing to take. One she had to take.

      Oh, my God, she was really going to do this.

      She reached for the phone, hand trembling with anticipation. Nothing in her life had ever felt so scary. Or so right.

      The instant her hand hit the receiver she realized that she didn’t have his number. She could call directory assistance, but she seriously doubted he would be listed.

      But she did know where he lived.

      Besides, if she was going to grovel, she should at least give him the satisfaction of seeing her face.

      She pushed away from her desk. She would go to his house and hope that she was able to get past the front gate. Even if that meant running into his horrible mother. Mrs. Marshall, as Ivy had been instructed to address her, would just have to adjust to having Ivy around again. The same with Ivy’s mom. She would have to accept that Dillon had changed. And if she couldn’t, if she still believed Ivy was making a mistake, Ivy would just have to learn to tune her out. In fact, she should have learned that a long time ago.

      And who knows, May be a couple of grandchildren to spoil would lighten them both up a little. Right now, she felt as though anything were possible.

      She grabbed her keys off the table in the entryway and stuck her feet into one of the pairs of shoes she’d left by the front door. Her hands were shaking and her heart was about to burst from her chest it was beating so hard, but she was determined to see this through.

      She turned the knob and swung the door open and—hello!—almost ran face-first into the wall of man standing there.

      It took her brain a second or two to process who it was. “Dillon?”

      He stood in the hallway outside her apartment, fist raised, as if he’d just been preparing to knock, and he looked just as surprised to see her as she was to see him. Several days’ worth of dark, coarse stubble branded his face and his clothes were wrinkled. His hair was a mess and when he slipped off his sunglasses his eyes looked red-rimmed and tired.

      Good Lord, he looked about as awful as she felt. For some reason that was a comfort.

      He didn’t say a word. He just gripped her by her upper arms and tugged her roughly to him. His lips came down hard on hers, rough and sexy and demanding. His beard chafed her chin, fingers dug into her flesh. He tasted like coffee and sex, smelled warm and familiar. Her body went limp and she heard her keys hit the floor.

      The kiss was as hot as a flash fire and over just as fast. He set her loose and she stood there, dizzy and disoriented, clutching the door frame to keep from falling over.

      Whoa.