“Jazzy, do you have the last piece for tomorrow’s edition? Max said you had some last minute revisions.”

Ryder Donovan walked into Jazz Vanburren’s office, stopping dead in his tracks.

Still beautiful after all these years.

No other woman made him feel more alive or more passion in all his years. Only once had he felt the heated, powerful pull of a woman, one who could steal his breath and heart over and over again.

And that woman was Jazz.

Though a decade had passed since he’d had her in his arms in anything other than a friendly hug, he still felt the same as he did all those years ago. She was everything he'd ever wanted in a woman. Beauty, compassion, integrity and determination were only a few words to sum up all that Jazz was.

Through the years they were still as close as they’d been back then—minus the lovemaking—and he would never give up his friendship with her for anything. Ryder had watched her grow up, had done his own maturing, and she never saw what was right in front of her.

He’d kept his true feelings for her under wraps, knowing someday he’d have to act before it was too late. Any time he would try to talk to Jazz about his feelings, he’d chicken out and second-guess himself.

He’d rather they continue to be friends than not have her in his life at all. Ryder couldn’t be sure Jazz would ever see him as anything other than a good friend or boss and wouldn’t risk it.

That Jazz was commitment-phobic didn’t help matters any, either.

Ryder knew she wanted to find true love, Mr. Right and have the all-American family, but she’d never gotten over the past. Hell, his heart had barely recovered after she’d broken it the first time. He suspected that she still felt guilty for her actions back then. He only wished she’d talk to him, let him in. They’d never really sat down and discussed those days, the decisions Jazz had made, but maybe it was time they did.

Besides, he was tired of living a single man’s life when the woman he was in love with was also single. He was certain the time was fast approaching that he’d have to tell her how he felt. He could kick himself for all the time wasted. She might not reciprocate his feelings, but never telling her was something he couldn’t live with.

It was cowardly and stupid. In his opinion, the time had come. He just needed to find the exact moment to do it.

Noticing she was staring at the phone on her desk, seeming not to really be seeing it or having heard him, he moved closer to her desk.

“Jazz?” He knocked his knuckles on her desk, and she finally looked up at him, dazed and confused. “What’s wrong, honey?”

“Ryder? What…did you want something?”