

### CUT LOOSE

### Once Upon a Desire

### By Jen McConnel

CUT LOOSE

By Jen McConnel

Published by Jen McConnel

Smashwords Edition, 2nd edition

Copyright 2018

Cover Design Brightfish Press

This book originally appeared under the pen name "Charity Hillis" in 2015.

This book is a work of fiction. Characters, locations, and events are products of the author's mind, or have been used in a fictitious manner. The author acknowledges the right of all trademark holders for products mentioned in this work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, or to actual events, is purely coincidental.

License Statement:

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use, then please return to your favorite eBook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Copyright

A Note from the Author

More from the Once Upon a Desire Series

### CHAPTER ONE

When Amy wandered into The Desert, she had no idea what to expect.

Christmas lights were strung haphazardly across the ceiling, and peanuts crunched on the floor underneath her black stilettos. Wrinkling her nose, she crossed the dirty floor to a decked-out tiki bar at the other end of the room. A chalkboard sign over the bar proclaimed "Oasis", and Amy rolled her eyes. Could this place be any kitschier?

"What can I get you?" The bartender, a woman of indeterminate age who looked like she'd lain out in the sun for one too many years, snapped her gum and grinned at Amy.

"I'll have a Manhattan," she said, aware of how ironic it was to order the quintessential city drink in a dive somewhere in the middle of Vermont.

The bartender didn't seem to notice the irony. "Any food, too?" She asked as she began mixing the drink right at the counter.

Amy raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow. "I didn't know there was a kitchen."

"There's not, but Pop's next door will always send over some fries or a pizza while you wait." The woman grinned, flashing a glimpse of her chewing gum. "Handy about setting up business in a small town; if you're nice and play by the rules, folks go out of their way to help out." She turned the martini shaker over a glass with an expert flick of her wrist and slid the drink across the counter to Amy.

"And if they aren't nice?"

The woman chuckled. "Won't last very long anywhere in Vermont, that's the truth."

God, it sounds like my version of hell, Amy thought, taking a sip of her drink. She glanced at it in surprise; it was nearly perfect. A little too much vermouth, but otherwise, pretty good. Maybe it was stereotypical of her to have been expecting the drink to taste like cat piss, but nothing about The Desert made her think she'd be able to get a decent cocktail. Looks like this weekend won't be so bad after all.

When Sharlene had emailed her out of the blue a few months ago, Amy had initially been pleased. They'd roomed together in college but lost touch over the intervening years, and it was a nice blast from the past to catch up with her old friend. And then when Sharlene announced her engagement, Amy had repressed a twinge of jealousy while offering her congratulations. It seemed like everyone she met was thinking about marriage if they weren't already married, and the closer to forty Amy got, the more she started to resent things like wedding invitations and baby showers. But Sharlene had insisted she come to the wedding in May, and even though Amy wanted to find a way out of it, part of her was eager to see her old friend again. Even if I did have to drive to the back end of beyond for this wedding.

"Ames!" A voice that hadn't changed despite the years echoed out across the murky room, and Amy looked up with a smile. She tugged on the bottom of her fitted leather jacket and grinned at Sharlene.

"Only took us fifteen years for that reunion!" She joked, opening her arms for a hug.

Sharlene barreled into her, squeezing her tight. "You haven't changed at all!"

Amy laughed, forgetting to feel out of place in the dive. "You've always been a terrible liar."

Sharlene smiled at her. "You're still my Ames. I'm so glad you could come!"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," Amy said, surprised to realize that she meant it.

"I can't wait for you to meet the girls...and you'll flip when you see the groom!"

Amy checked the neon clock over the door. "Speaking of girls, didn't you say this party was starting ten minutes ago?"

Sharlene laughed. "Everyone moves a bit slower up here than you're probably used to. Still disgustingly punctual, huh?"

Amy smoothed a loose strand of blond hair behind her ear. "That's what makes me so successful!"

"It's what makes you a nerd, that's what it is." Sharlene smiled, and Amy couldn't help grinning back.

Before she could fire off a snappy comeback, squeals erupted from the door to the bar, and Sharlene turned, adding her own voice to the melee. Three women bee lined toward them, and someone was hugging Amy before she could prepare herself.

"Oh, my gosh, you're Amy! Sharlene hasn't stopped bragging about you this week!" A short redhead with a frizzy pixie cut let go of Amy and grinned at her.

"Um, thanks?" Amy shifted uncomfortably. Falling back into the familiar warmth with Sharlene was one thing, but a random stranger hugging her wasn't usually on her agenda. She took a cautious step back, but the redhead didn't launch herself at Amy again.

A tall brunette slapped the redhead's hand away. "God, Carol, scare her why don't you?"

Carol rolled her eyes. "She's fine."

Trying to recover the situation, Amy held out her hand. "Nice to meet you."

Sharlene laughed and threw her arm around Amy's shoulder. "No need to put on the big city act with them. This is Carol, Joanne," she nodded at the brunette and then tipped her head toward a curvy woman with raven hair, "and Roxy. By the end of the night, they'll be just like your sisters."

Amy doubted that; it had been a long time since she'd had any girlfriends she thought of as sisters. Not since college, really, she realized, but she forced herself to smile despite her hesitation. "Does that mean it's time to get the party moving?"

Roxy laughed. "I like this girl already. Come on, ladies, let's make Sharlene's last night of freedom one to remember."

"Second to last," Sharlene reminded them as she led the way to a pair of sticky tables near a stage that Amy hadn't noticed. Pushing the tables together, Sharlene grinned at her. "I'm not dumb enough to have my bachelorette party the night before the wedding like that girl in college...what was her name?"

"Carly," Amy supplied, wincing at the memory. "Dumb enough to get married with a wicked hangover."

"Well, we'll all be able to sleep this one off tomorrow." Carol plopped down at the table and looked around expectantly, as if she was waiting for a drink to materialize in front of her.

"I've got the first round," Joanne called over her shoulder as she headed up to the tiki bar. For a moment, Amy wondered if she should offer to help her carry the drinks, but Sharlene patted the rough wooden chair next to her and smiled.

"We've got way too much catching up to do this weekend, girl. What have you been up to the last decade or so?"

Amy sat down gingerly, wondering what kind of residue might be lingering on the chair. "Just work, really." It might have sounded like a brush off, but it was the truth. Amy had made her career the center of her world years ago, and that dedication and drive had finally paid off; she'd just been made a junior partner at her banking firm, but she didn't think Sharlene or the others would really care about the minutiae of her work. Sadly, however, that drive and dedication had also left her with precious little social life, and she always ran out of small talk rather quickly, unless she was with other bankers.

"Never thought you'd become a Wall Street banker!" Sharlene shook her head. "I always thought you'd be an artist, remember?"

Amy shrugged, uncomfortably aware that Carol and Roxy were listening intently. She still dabbled with her art; in fact, she'd made Sharlene a beautiful pendant with a new method of wire weaving she was experimenting with, but it didn't seem like the right time to give it to her. "It pays the bills," Amy finally said, deciding not to mention the jewelry until she was alone with Sharlene. Her job more than paid the bills, and after all the horrible publicity the industry got during the recession, Amy was sure they all knew it, but she desperately didn't want to talk about herself. "What about you?" She asked, turning to Carol and Roxy. "What do you both do?"

"I'm a hairdresser," Carol offered, "and Roxy runs the Pine Tree Inn."

Roxy grinned. "I'm guessing that's where you're staying, since it's the only hotel for miles."

Amy nodded. "I haven't checked in yet; I wanted to make sure I was on time for the party, so I drove straight here."

Joanne returned with a tray of open amber beer bottles. She passed them around, and then lifted hers toward Sharlene. "Here's to you, sweetheart. May your wedding day be perfect!"

"And may the night be even better," Carol added with a wink.

Sharlene giggled, and everyone clinked bottles. Amy took a tentative sip of beer and tried to hide her disgusted expression. Still tastes awful; I guess some things never change. She hadn't had beer since college, and she wondered if it would be rude of her to order another Manhattan, but before she could decide, the shrill sound of microphone feedback filled the bar, and a few patrons swore.

"Sorry about that, folks," a deep, mellow voice said, and Amy's eyes swiveled to the stage.

"Where'd he come from?" She asked appreciatively, taking in tight jeans, a vintage T-shirt, and five o'clock shadow.

Sharlene laughed. "Same place as Roxy. That's her brother."

Amy flushed. "Oh. Sorry." Her eyes swung back to the stage despite herself.

Roxy took a swig of her beer and grinned good-naturedly. "Don't be. Sean's the hottest piece of man-candy around, and don't he know it!"

"Second hottest, thank you very much." Sharlene said proudly. "Or have you all forgotten Jeremiah?"

Amy's eyes strayed to the stage again, but she pulled them away to look at Sharlene. "Do I get to see a picture?"

Sharlene pulled out her phone with a wide smile. "There we are at the vineyard where he proposed," she tapped the screen, "and here's him at the beach." She sighed. "Just look at those abs!"

An acoustic guitar on an amp filled the room, cutting off Amy's reply, and she glanced back at the stage. Roxy's brother looked even sexier with the instrument slung over his shoulder, his eyes closed in concentration as he strummed the opening bars of "Cats in the Cradle". The only thing that isn't perfect about him is that ridiculous T-shirt, Amy thought, taking a sip of her drink before remembering she was still holding the beer. She made a face and finally pulled her eyes away from the musician.

Carol was watching her, and when Amy met her eyes, the redhead winked. "Nothing wrong with looking!"

"Aren't you dating anybody back in the city?" Joanne leaned forward, curiously.

Amy shrugged. "Not right now." Not for the past three years, she thought with a pang of loneliness. "There's just not enough time," she added in what she hoped was a casual tone.

"Well, you never know what will happen at a wedding!" Carol giggled, and Amy glanced at Roxy nervously.

The woman just smiled. "He's a big boy. He can take care of himself."

"He won't need to take care of anything," Amy protested loudly over the music. "I was just looking."

Sharlene winked. "Window shopping usually leads to buying."

Not in this case, Amy thought, resisting the urge to look at the stage again. A lazy musician isn't what I'm looking for, no matter how hot he is. She didn't want to piss the women off, though, so she just smiled and forced herself to take another swallow of beer, but she was acutely aware of the guy on the stage behind her.
CHAPTER TWO

Sean sort of hated playing at The Desert, but at least it paid some of the bills. Still, it was hard to cultivate any kind of rocker image at the bar where his sister and her friends usually spent Saturday nights.

Not that Sean was going for a rocker image; he played an old acoustic guitar, for Christ's sake, but it was the principal of the thing. He had no doubt that if he could get a more regular gig somewhere that Roxy wasn't that he'd have plenty of girls to take home. That's what rockers do, right? Sean never said no to a pretty face, but all the single girls around town seemed to be looking for a diamond and a whole lot of promises Sean wasn't ready to make, so he stuck to his solo act and tried to pretend he was on stage anywhere but there.

Still, the pay wasn't bad, and even if the bar was just a local haunt, Sean still had enough friends left in town that there were usually a few guys around to have a beer with after his set. And sometimes, women would hit The Desert as they were passing through, and whenever he spotted a new face, Sean made the most of the opportunity, however brief.

But the pretty blond with the uptight hairdo and the expensive clothes he's just noticed was sitting at a table with his sister.

Damn, Sean thought as he wrapped up his first song. He watched the women as he played, and he was gratified to notice the blond's eyes kept straying to his face. She might be worth the risk, he thought to himself as he watched her chatting with his sister and her friends.

He figured the mystery girl must be Sharlene's old college pal; she'd been telling everybody who'd listen that her big-city banker friend was coming to the wedding, and Sean had already decided he didn't want anything to do with the uptight Wall Street woman...until he saw her.

Before he could decide if he wanted to make a move or not, the women paid their tab and headed out into the night. Sean sighed, but he didn't follow them; he stayed on the stage until the joint closed, just like he was paid to do, and at the end of the night, the manager handed him a thick envelope and smiled.

"I know you're off this weekend for the wedding, but after that, we're back on your normal schedule, right?"

Sean snapped his guitar case shut and pocketed the envelope of money. "Same time, same place."

Joey grinned. "One of these days, you're going to tell me you're booked and I've got to find myself a new entertainer."

Sean had pretty much given up looking for gigs, and besides, boring or not, The Desert was a sure thing. It had been a long time since he took any real risks, but Joey was from out of town, so he didn't know that. Sean forced a smile. "For now, I'm all yours!"

As he walked home in the dark, Sean tipped his head back and stared at the crystal stars overhead. It was a sight that should have made anyone catch his breath, but Sean had been staring at that same night sky for thirty-odd years, and he couldn't remember a time he'd ever liked the view. It used to be city lights I wanted, he thought, but now I just don't know. He paused, the phrase lingering in his head. He felt the rhythm of the words, and realized that it was almost a song lyric. Instead of scribbling it down on a scrap of paper that he found in his pocket, the way he used to do, Sean shook his head and forced his thoughts away from spontaneous poetry and back onto the city girl at the bar. He smiled slowly as he thought of ways to make her drop her inhibitions. Maybe I'll have a little fun this weekend, after all.

### CHAPTER THREE

Cold, clear sunlight was streaming across the bed when Amy woke up, and she groaned as the light hit her eyes. "Who forgot to shut the damn curtains?" She grumbled, pulling a pillow over her face and rolling away from the light. She'd been too tired when she finally made it the inn last night to bother, but she hadn't really thought it would matter; wasn't Vermont supposed to be dark and gloomy all year?

Finally, she removed the pillow and opened one eye. The room was clean and bright, if a bit quaint: knotty pine floors filled the entire inn, and the honey colored wood made Amy's sparse room feel warmer than she'd expected. Her fingers traced the thin white quilt that was pulled up to her chin, and when she glanced down, she noticed a pattern of geometric green and blue pine trees covering the fabric. Is everything pine-themed? She knew that was the name of the inn and all, but it seemed like Roxy had taken the theme a little too far.

Stretching her arms over her head and flexing her toes, Amy decided that since she was awake, she might as well make the most of it. She padded across the room to her huge caramel leather purse and pulled out her tablet. Curling up in the stiff old wingback chair under the window, Amy cleared out a few work emails and followed up on a couple of client questions, ccing her assistant with a grin she couldn't hide. Never thought I'd have an assistant! Being made partner certainly had more perks than just the salary.

With a satisfied smile, Amy tucked the tablet back into her bag and checked the clock. It was almost noon, and she hurried to get ready. Sharlene had invited her on a wine tasting tour with a bunch of other guests, and Amy didn't want to let her down. Besides, what else am I going to do alone in the hotel all day?

Since time was short, she didn't wash her long, blond hair, but years of experience had made her fingers deft, and in moments, she'd pinned it up in what looked like a complicated series of twists and knots at the back of her head. Smoothing down a few flyaways with cream, Amy checked her reflection in the mirror; sleek, professional, and way too put together for a day of wine tasting. Amy sighed, but then she remembered that she'd packed a few pieces of jewelry. She didn't usually wear her own stuff; her designs were too flowy and romantic for her charcoal power suits and starched shirts, but maybe a wine tour would be the perfect excuse to wear something she'd made. She pulled out her favorite necklace, silver and copper wire intertwining delicately around a large, oval lapis, and slipped it around her neck.

When she checked her reflection this time, the face in the mirror looked a little softer. Even with her fitted leather jacket, Amy realized that the necklace made a huge difference; she didn't feel quite so Wall Street now. And maybe I can just enjoy myself for once, she thought as she grabbed her wallet and headed downstairs.

Tin plates and tiny, framed engravings lined the stairwell, but white wallpaper speckled with pine cones was still visible behind the antiques. Amy rolled her eyes. Seriously, Roxy's gone a bit overboard, but maybe that's what people around here like.

The inn offered a home-cooked breakfast, but Amy knew she'd slept too late to take advantage of it. Luckily, though, there were some scones set out on a side table near the reception desk, along with a pot of strong coffee. Amy poured herself a Styrofoam cup, wishing she'd thought to bring down her travel mug. Maybe I can run back up and grab it, she thought, but just then, a man with a clipboard strode into the room.

"Anyone for the Harris/Bloom wedding wine tour?"

Amy raised her hand, then immediately felt like an idiot. What am I, five? She quickly finished her coffee and headed over to the man. "I'm Amy Savoy," she said, smiling as the man checked her name off his clipboard.

"Nice to meet you. Name's Hank," he said, sticking out his hand and grinning. "You're Sharlene's college buddy, right?"

She nodded, surprised. "How do you know that?"

"My wife couldn't stop talking about you last night."

"Your wife?"

"Carol." Hank wrinkled his brow. "She didn't mention me?"

"Oh, no, she did," Amy said quickly. "I just haven't had enough coffee this morning." She wasn't really sure if Carol had mentioned Hank or not, but she wasn't about to tell him that.

Her answer seemed to appease him. "Well, can't promise you coffee on the tour, but there sure will be a lot of wine." He winked. "Might as well add to the hangover, eh?"

Amy didn't bother correcting him; she was tired, but not hung-over. The girls had stuck to beer all night, except for the one round of tequila shots she'd insisted on buying, and Amy had barely touched any of the bottles that appeared in front of her. "Is the bus outside?"

"Sure is. Go on and make yourself comfortable. I think I'm waiting for another couple of folks in here, and then we'll be off."

She hadn't realized that the inn was the last stop for pickup; nervously, she walked toward the full bus, fiddling with her necklace and hoping Sharlene hadn't invited too many people. Amy only did well with crowds when she was presenting something for work; social interactions had always made her nervous. Luckily, the first person she saw when she boarded the minibus was Joanne.

"Hey, stranger!" Joanne grinned. "Feeling okay after last night?"

Why does everyone think I got wasted? She nodded. "Right as rain. You?"

"A couple of aspirin made the morning look a lot better, let me tell you."

Amy nodded, feeling a twinge of guilt that she'd only pretended to drink; the other women must have all been pretty toasted by the end of the night. Maybe that's why everyone assumes I'm hung over, she thought.

Sharlene waved from the back of the bus, and Amy smiled at Joanne. "The bride calls," she said apologetically.

Joanne nodded. "Of course!"

Making her way down the short aisle, Amy slid into an empty pair of seats across from Sharlene and a guy who could only be Jeremiah.

Sharlene grinned at her. "You doing okay?"

"Yes," Amy said, reaching around Sharlene with her hand. "I'm guessing you're the fiancé."

He grinned and shook her hand. "Jeremiah. It's nice to finally meet you; my girl here can't say enough about the fun you all got into back in college."

Amy liked him immediately, and she smiled. "Those were the days!"

"Sharlene tells me you were quite the artist?"

Sharlene tapped his arm. "But not anymore, hon. Now she's big city girl, with a big city job."

Amy chuckled, but then she slipped her hand into her coat pocket. "Speaking of, I forgot to give you something last night." Handing Sharlene the small white box, Amy sat back nervously. She'd never given anyone one of her pieces before, and she wasn't sure what Sharlene would say. Sure, she'd sold them on the Internet from time to time, but it was different to be face to face with a person.

Sharlene gasped softly. "Oh my gosh, this is beautiful!" Nestled in tissue paper was a pendant similar to the one Amy was wearing, only the stone was a small, round moonstone. The opalescent orb looked pink and blue in the sunlight as Sharlene pulled it out of the box. "Clasp it for me, would you, honey?"

Jeremiah obliged, and the pendant settled gently against Sharlene's neck. She turned to Amy with a wide smile. "Where did you find it?"

Amy hesitated. "Actually," she admitted shyly, "it's one of mine."

Realization dawned on her friend's face, and she leaned across the aisle to hug Amy. "You made this?" She squealed. "Why didn't you tell me you were still doing this kind of thing?"

Amy shrugged, embarrassed. "I'm not, really. It's just a hobby. But when you invited me for your wedding, well, I..." she cleared her throat. "I wanted to make something special for you."

"Ames, this is perfect! Thank you so, so much!"

"I know you probably already have your jewelry set for tomorrow," Amy continued, warming to the topic, "but in case you didn't, this covers old, new, and blue; I found the stone at an antique shop and rescued it from a bent ring, and the new and blue should be obvious."

Sharlene touched the pendant gently and tears filled her eyes. "It's perfect. I can't wait to wear it tomorrow!" She glanced at Amy's neck. "And we sort of match! I love it."

Even though Amy had been hoping her friend would say that, she still blushed. "If you really think it's fancy enough for a wedding—"

"It's perfect," Sharlene repeated. Jeremiah nodded in agreement.

Amy beamed at them. Before she could say anything else, however, a low voice interrupted. "Mind if I sit here?"

She lifted her eyes and recognized the musician from the previous night. This feels a little too much like a set up. Casting an accusatory glance at Sharlene, who merely winked, Amy shrugged. "If you want," she said, trying not to sound interested.

Instead of waiting for her to step into the aisle, Sean pressed between her legs and wormed his way to the window seat. Amy's face was level with his hips, and she let her eyes linger on him for a moment before giving herself a mental shake. Set up or not, there was no reason for her to lose her head. When she glanced up at his face, he was grinning at her knowingly.

"I'm Sean," he said, sticking out his hand and settling into the seat.

"Amy," she said, trying not to notice how strong his grip was.

"I know. You're the big city friend."

She lifted an eyebrow. "Is that a problem?"

He shook his head. "Not if you like big cities. Too polluted, in my book."

"Better than too isolated," Amy fired back.

Sean grinned. "But don't you read the papers? Small town America is making a comeback."

"Not for me," she said, shaking her head. "I'm just visiting."

He laughed, showing a single dimple in his right cheek. "You never know. We might seduce you with our maple syrup and never-ending charm."

Amy made a face. "Ugh. Too sweet for me!"

"The syrup, or the charm?"

She laughed. "Both, I guess."

He grinned at her knowingly. "Ah, so you're a spicy kind of girl."

Amy flushed. "That's not what I said."

Sean leaned toward her, stopping with his lips inches away from her ear. "I'll let you in on a little secret. Small towns can have plenty of spice, if you know where to look." His breath was warm on her cheek, and Amy's skin tingled in response.

"What if I'm not looking?" she asked, turning her head toward him slightly. If he wanted to kiss her, she'd just put her lips closer into range, but Amy was too turned on to stop herself.

Sean laughed, a low, throaty sound that made Amy's toes curl in anticipation. "That's not what it looks like."

Before she could respond, Hank's voice filled the bus. "All right, you all, it's time to kick off this celebration!"

Amy mentally shook herself and leaned away from Sean. She wasn't in Vermont for a fling; she was just there for Sharlene's wedding. Besides, she added, glancing back at the musician out of the corner of her eye, Roxy's right. He really is full of himself. Clearing her throat, she tried to steer the conversation into safer territory. "How long have you played guitar?"

Sean gave her an impish wink. "Are you fishing for my age, Amy? I promise you I'm perfectly legal."

Amy snapped her fingers. "Oh, damn. I was ready to test out my cougar skills this weekend."

Sean threw back his head and laughed. "You're something else, you know that?" He leaned forward like he was thinking about kissing her, but Amy leaned back.

"The guitar?" She prompted, trying not to notice the way her breath caught in her chest.

"Forever, it seems like. Got my first one at a garage sale in the seventh grade."

Amy chuckled. "You're lucky you found your passion so early!"

His face, which had been open and playful a moment ago, seemed to close off at her words. "Yeah, well, it's something to do," he said, looking out the window.

Amy wasn't sure what had set him off, and her hand strayed to her necklace. "That's good, I guess."

Sean glanced back at her, and he tipped his head toward her throat. "What are you worrying there?"

Amy dropped her hand like she'd been burned. "Oh, nothing. Just a pendant."

Leaning across the aisle, Sharlene chose that moment to interrupt the conversation. "She made it, Sean. And look," she touched her own necklace with a smile, "she made one for me, too. Isn't she talented?"

Sean nodded slowly, leaning even closer to Amy to study her necklace. His breath was warm on her skin, and Amy wondered fleetingly what his lips would feel like against the tender flesh at the top of her collarbone. "Very pretty," he finally said, pulling back to look at her face.

Amy shrugged. "It's nothing. Just a hobby."

Sharlene shook her head. "You should totally do a craft fair or something. I'm sure people would buy your stuff."

Desperate to change the subject, Amy glanced over at Jeremiah. "What are your plans for after the wedding?"

Sharlene giggled, and too late, Amy heard the double entendre of her words. Luckily, Jeremiah pretended not to notice. "I've planned the honeymoon," he said with a sly smile, "but it's a secret."

Sharlene hit his arm playfully. "He doesn't understand that I need to know where we're going so I can pack!"

They began to bicker good-naturedly, and Amy glanced back at Sean. He was watching her intently, glancing at her necklace from time to time before lifting his bright blue eyes back to her face. She wanted to ask him what he was thinking, but she didn't want to get into a conversation about her jewelry again, so she pulled her tablet out of her purse and tried to focus on work. She could usually work anywhere, but her right arm was acutely aware that Sean's body was almost pressed up against her side, and Amy kept glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. What is it about him that turns me on? I barely even know the guy, she admonished herself, sending off a quick reply to an email her boss had sent, reminding him that she was out of town for the next few days. When she risked another look at Sean, he'd turned away from her and was staring out the window, and Amy fought down a fissure of disappointment.

Still, even though she worked hard to ignore Sean as they drove to the first winery, she couldn't ignore the way her body was responding to his presence. It had been a long time since she'd suffered from lust at first sight, and by the time they got off the bus for the first tasting, Amy was starting to wonder what would happen if she kept flirting with Sean. After all, she thought, watching him hold an animated conversation with Jeremiah, weddings make people do crazy things.

### CHAPTER FOUR

Sean had grown up with Sharlene and Jeremiah, like everyone else in town, and when they'd finally announced their engagement, he hadn't been surprised. He was in Miah's graduating class, and even back in high school, it had been obvious that the guy had a thing for his kid sister's best friend. So when Miah asked him to play for the wedding, Sean wasn't about to say no. He didn't offer to do it for free, but he did drop his rates, and Jeremiah and Sharlene hadn't seemed to mind paying for live music at the reception. In fact, they'd even invited him along on for the party bus and wine tour the day before the wedding, and Sean wasn't about to turn down an opportunity to enjoy himself.

He'd hiked up to the inn to catch the bus, but by the time he got there, all the seats were full except for one in the back, across the aisle from the bride and groom. Sean noticed the immaculate blond hairstyle when he was halfway down the aisle, and he smiled to himself as Sharlene waved him over. Looks like I'll have a chance to talk to the city girl sooner than I'd hoped. He slid into the seat beside her and introduced himself.

Fifteen minutes into their flirty exchange, Sean realized Sharlene was watching him with a broad smile, and suddenly it dawned on him. The empty seat. Oh, Christ, this is her idea of a set-up. The idea that someone wanted him to hook up with Amy was almost enough to make him reconsider his plans, combined with the way she'd seemed to figure him out within minutes, and he put a little distance between them at the first wine tasting. He wasn't usually opposed to set ups, but he really didn't want to have a fling with a woman who seemed like she could intuit his soul; her comment about passion had cut deeper than he cared to admit. No one in town talked to Sean about music and passion in the same breath anymore, not since Joy. But it had taken Amy barely five minutes to see past his casual bar performance, and that unnerved him.

Still, despite himself, he found his eyes straying toward her throughout the day, watching the way she seemed genuine with Sharlene, but awkward as hell with anybody else.

She's prettier than I thought, Sean realized as he studied Amy's face across the rustic tasting room at the third winery. He skimmed her hair and cheeks, his eyes landing at the pendant around her neck, the one Sharlene said she'd made. Even from a distance, he could tell it was well-made, and he noticed that she touched it whenever she got nervous or flustered. She'd been gripping it a lot that day, Sean observed, so he figured the big city sophisticated thing was just an act. He wondered fleetingly if she felt the same way about jewelry making that he did about music; it was hard to see past the banker exterior, but Sean was determined to try. What would it take to get her to let her hair down? He thought, swirling the wine in his glass absentmindedly before taking a swallow.

"I wouldn't bother," Roxy said, sidling up to him and following his gaze. "She's way too smart for you."

He rolled his eyes. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, sis."

She shrugged. "Just calling it like I see it. You know she's just been made a partner at her firm?"

Sean shook his head. "So?"

"So, what's a successful woman like that going to do with an overgrown man-child like you?"

Sean chuckled, finishing off his wine. "I'm not looking for some long-term thing, Rox, and there's no reason to guess that's what she wants, either." He paused. "Unless she said something about wanting a wedding and babies when you all were out at the bar?"

Roxy shook her head. "No, she didn't, but I sort of get the feeling there's a lot that girl isn't saying."

Sean grinned rakishly at her. "I bet I could get some sounds out of her."

His sister swatted his arm. "God, you're such a jerk. Is there any single woman in town you haven't laid?"

Sean opened his mouth, a wicked glint in his eyes, and Roxy took a step back.

"On second thought, forget I asked." She darted away, and Sean laughed at her retreating back. When he glanced up, he caught Amy's eye across the room, and was surprised when she looked away first. Is she actually blushing? It was hard to tell underneath the dim lights of the winery, but Sean decided it was a very good sign. She's definitely interested, he told himself as the group headed back to the bus for the last winery of the day. And I've already got a few things in mind, no matter what Roxy says. His sister's warning had chased away his earlier hesitations; whenever Roxy told him he couldn't do something, he always made a point of proving her wrong.

### CHAPTER FIVE

Although she hadn't been hung over from the bachelorette party, an afternoon of wine tasting left Amy feeling more than pleasantly toasted, and the rest of the wedding guests seemed to be in a similar boat by the time Hank drove them back to the inn.

"The rehearsal dinner is here at the inn," Sharlene said, slurring gently as Amy stood up to get off the bus. "You'll be there, right?"

Amy nodded. "Wouldn't miss a moment of this weekend!" She swayed down the aisle, thankful that the bus had stopped moving, and when her feet hit solid ground, Amy stood for a moment, trying to get her bearings. She turned to wave at the bus as it departed, and she was surprised to see Sean standing next to her.

"What are you doing?" Amy blurted. Despite their flirty exchange at the beginning of the day, Sean had pretty much ignored her at the wine tastings, and Amy had tried to push her dirty thoughts about the musician out of her mind. And I'd almost succeeded, she thought, eyeing him from head to toe. Almost.

Sean chuckled. "Rehearsal dinner. You heard Sharlene, right?"

Amy shook her head, confused. "But that's not for a few hours."

"I told Roxy I'd help her set up."

"Oh," Amy said, at a loss for words. What's wrong with you? It's not like you don't know how to flirt...it's just been a while. "Maybe I should see if she needs help, too."

"You're the guest. Didn't your mother teach you that guests don't have to sing for their supper?"

She laughed. "Is that how you're going to help? Singing?"

"Not tonight," Sean said, his blue eyes sparkling. "Saving that for tomorrow."

Amy was honestly surprised. He'd been good at the bar the other night, but she wasn't sure acoustic guitar and folksy songs would fit the wedding. Then again, she didn't really know Sharlene's style, so she just shrugged. "Nice of you to help out," she finally said.

Sean winked. "Don't get the wrong idea about me, Ames; Roxy bribed me into helping by threatening to dig up my old baby pictures, and Sharlene and Jeremiah are paying me for my services tomorrow." He leaned forward and brushed a stray piece of Amy's hair behind her ear. "For you, though, I might not charge," he whispered suggestively.

Annoyed, Amy swatted his hand away. "I'm good, thanks," she said, the flirty buzz starting to dissipate. The more Sean talked, the more arrogant Amy realized he was, and even for a fling, she knew from experience that that kind of guy was so not worth it. She stepped around Sean and headed into the inn, but she could feel his eyes on her back as she walked. Even though she'd made up her mind to avoid him for the rest of the weekend, her body had a mind of its own, and her hips swayed a little bit more than usual as she climbed the wooden steps. Amy didn't have to look back to know he was watching, and she smiled to herself as the door to the inn swung shut behind her.

***

When Sharlene had said that dinner would be at the inn, Amy had just assumed there was a restaurant on-site, but she hadn't expected to find the big wrap-around porch filled with tables and chairs when she came downstairs that evening. The sun was low enough that the trees surrounding the inn cast long shadows, and Amy shivered slightly. She darted upstairs and grabbed her leather jacket before heading down again.

The tables dotting the porch were all shapes and sizes, and Amy wondered idly if Roxy had raided the neighbor's houses for anything that wasn't nailed down. White linen tablecloths covered every surface, and Amy noticed a buffet set up on two picnic tables that had been pushed together down on the lawn. Even though it should have looked like a mish-mashed jumble, she had to admit that the whole set up was charming; yellow tea lights flickered in the center of each table, and mismatched china plates and tarnished silverware were laid out elegantly. The whole thing had kind of an antique sale look to it, and Amy smiled when she spotted Roxy.

"This looks great," she said honestly, and Roxy beamed.

"Thanks! I want to get into the wedding business with the inn, and Sharlene's letting me experiment with hers."

Amy was surprised. "You've never done this before?"

Roxy shook her head. "Do you think people would pay for a dinner like this?"

"I'll let you know after I taste the food." Amy grinned, and Roxy chuckled.

"Fair enough. I hope you like it."

Amy glanced at the picnic tables, and then turned back to Roxy, a suspicion dawning in her mind. "You don't mean you made all the food, too?"

Roxy shrugged, but her eyes were proud. "Easiest way to give Sharlene what she wants; she was going to hire some fancy caterer for tonight, but they'd just made an offer on their first home, and I didn't want her to break the bank for her wedding."

Amy was impressed. "She's lucky to have a friend like you."

"We all pitched in; everybody loves Shar. Sorry, but I have to go check on the pies."

Amy waved her off and looked around the setup with new eyes. I never would have known that Roxy had pulled all this together, she thought. It looks like something out of a magazine.

Sitting down at one of the tables, Amy watched the porch fill up with smiling, bustling people. Some of them had been on the wine bus earlier that day, but there were a lot more that Amy hadn't seen before, and she scanned the crowd, watching for Carol and Hank or Joanne.

Her eyes landed on Sean, laughing and chatting with a group of men, and she quickly dropped her gaze. Why does he have to be everywhere?

Finally, Amy felt a hand on her shoulder, and she looked up with surprise to see Sharlene and Jeremiah. He gestured to a chair. "Are you saving the table for someone?"

Amy laughed. "Nope, but don't you all have a head table or something?"

Sharlene shrugged, sliding into the seat beside Amy. "Not tonight. Not tomorrow, either, come to think of it!"

Jeremiah chuckled. "We didn't want things to be too formal. This weekend is all about spending time with the people we love." He leaned over and planted a kiss on Sharlene's cheek. "One special someone in particular," he said, and Sharlene blushed.

"I'm excited for the wedding," Amy told her truthfully. "Roxy's done a great job with all this."

Sharlene nodded. "She's a doll. I wanted a fairy tale wedding, and Roxy is making that happen."

Amy paused. "She told me you guys bought a house?"

Jeremiah grinned broadly. "They accepted the offer last week."

"That's wonderful! Congratulations," Amy said. Will I ever buy a house with someone I love, or will I just eventually upgrade to a bigger apartment? She bit back a surge of bitterness and forced a smile.

Sharlene grabbed her hand. "You'll have to come back to visit once we're settled in."

Amy nodded, although she wasn't sure she'd be able to get away from the city again for a while. "Once I get the hang of my new position, you bet!"'

"What are you doing, again?" Sharlene asked.

Amy shrugged, feeling put on the spot. "I made junior partner last month," she said, trying not to sound arrogant.

Jeremiah stood up. "Looks like Roxy's put the food out. Should I grab you a plate, sweetie?"

Sharlene nodded. "Make sure you get extras of those little puff pastry things."

He leaned over and kissed her forehead. "Anything for you!"

Amy watched her friend smile after him, trying to repress the twinge of jealousy she felt at the love struck look on Sharlene's face. She coughed uncomfortably, and Sharlene turned back to her, her cheeks pink.

"Sorry. You were saying?"

Amy didn't need to keep talking about her work. "I don't remember. Do you mind if I abandon you for a minute to grab some food?" She tipped her head toward the line at the buffet. "Looks like I may have to fight my way to the pastries you mentioned."

Sharlene grinned. "They're delicious. Make sure you grab a couple extra, and take a slice of the pie, too."

With that advice in her head, Amy made her way down to the buffet line. She smiled politely at a few of the locals she recognized from the wine tasting, but she didn't try to engage anyone in conversation. It was nice to have a quiet moment to herself, despite the bustle; I'm not used to being this social. Who'd have thought Vermont would be so friendly! New York was busy, but Amy realized it was a solitary kind of busy; no one stopped her on the street to chat, and she could usually spend an entire day in her office without interacting with anyone but her assistant.

"Waiting to judge the country cooks?" Sean joined the line behind her, and Amy rolled her eyes.

"I don't know why you think I'm some city bitch, but you don't know me, so stop acting like you do."

He laughed and stuck his hands in his pockets. "Be honest; aren't you judging us all, just a little?"

Amy pursed her lips. "I don't have to answer to you."

"I'll take that as a yes." Sean lowered his voice and leaned closer to her. "Want to know a secret?"

His whisper sent shivers along her spine, but Amy tried to ignore her body's reaction. "If I must."

Sean's voice was barely audible over the friendly noise of the party guests, and his lips almost brushed against Amy's ear as he muttered, "I'm judging them, too."

She raised her eyebrow. "And where did you say you were from, again?"

"Just because I grew up here doesn't mean I have to be a saint." He tipped his head toward Roxy, serving behind the buffet. "Take my sister, for example. She's got real talent, an eye for design and all that, but because she inherited the inn when our granddad died, she's going to spend the rest of her life in the backwoods, wasting her skills on local weddings or the few random strangers who wander in because they want a 'rustic' event." His eyes met hers, and Amy felt searing heat in her stomach. "But then again, it looks like you don't have to be a country fool to waste your talent."

He hand strayed unconsciously to her necklace, and Amy swallowed. "What's that supposed to mean?" She took a step back, putting a little distance between them, but she was still uncomfortably aware of the way her body reacted to him.

They'd reached the buffet, and Sean stepped around her, reaching for the last biscuit in a basket on the table. "It means," he said, dropping it on his plate with a wolfish smile, "that you snooze, you lose." Before she could think of a retort, he'd ladled a mound of mashed potatoes onto his plate, topped it with a slab of Salisbury steak, and shoved the biscuit in his mouth as he turned and walked away.

"What an ass!" Amy exclaimed, and a few people at the buffet turned to look at her in surprise. Amy flushed, grabbing a plate and studiously avoiding the stares of the people around her.

"Yeah, he's pretty much that," Roxy said with a chuckle, and Amy looked up, a pained expression on her face.

"Sorry," she said, "I keep forgetting he's your brother."

"I told you before; he's a big boy, and he can take care of himself." Roxy spooned some fruit salad onto Amy's plate without asking. "I don't need to fight his battles for him, and besides," she said with a grin, "I get the impression he'd like to do more than fight with you."

Amy shook her head in disbelief. "He's easy on the eyes, all right, but then he opens his mouth! No, thanks."

Roxy gave her a roughish wink. "Never said he had to talk, did I?"

Amy laughed, but a voice in the back of her mind whispered that maybe it wasn't such a ridiculous idea after all. Despite his arrogance, she was more attracted to Sean than she cared to admit. It's not like you're going to marry him, she thought. And maybe all that pent up frustration would translate to a damn good time in bed. Her eyes scanned the crowd for a moment, but Sean seemed to have disappeared. Ignoring her disappointment, Amy carried her plate back to the table where Sharlene and Jeremiah were sitting.

The food was amazing, and Amy went back for seconds, even though she knew she shouldn't use this weekend as an excuse to let herself go; she usually counted every calorie, and days sometimes went by where she subsisted on little more than coffee and salad. But how often will I get to enjoy a meal like this? She told herself, justifying the extra-large helping of pie she accepted from Roxy. Every diner in New York boasts that their food tastes like home cooking, but nothing compares to the real thing.

Twilight had wrapped around the party, and the white Christmas lights strung along the roof of the porch looked more charming than Amy had thought they could, their gentle glow sparkling like fake stars overhead as the guests settled in to enjoy the evening. It was warmer than Amy had expected, too; she'd kind of been prepared for snow on the ground and roaring fires since everything she'd ever heard about Vermont talked about the great ski weather, but the spring air was fresh and almost balmy. Amy was on her second glass of wine when she heard the familiar thrum of a guitar. Looking around, Amy spotted Sean, standing in front of a microphone on a little make-shift stage at one end of the porch. He leaned forward and smiled into the mic, a mischievous glint in his blue eyes.

Amy glanced at Sharlene. "I thought he wasn't playing tonight?"

Her friend shrugged. "Nobody ever made Sean stick to a schedule."

Jeremiah slipped his arm around Sharlene's waist. "Gives us one more chance to practice before our first dance tomorrow."

Sharlene swatted his hand away playfully, but she was grinning broadly. "Let's hope he plays something worth dancing to!"

Sean started tuning his guitar, and Amy's eyes swung back toward him. "How's everybody doing tonight?" His voice filled the porch, and a few people called out friendly greetings.

Sean's smile spread wider when he noticed Amy watching him. "I know you all want to call it an early night, what with the wedding and all tomorrow, but I've got a song on my mind, and I wanted to make sure the special lady has a chance to hear it." Even though he made it sound like he was talking about Sharlene, his eyes never left Amy's as he began to play.

The familiar chords sent a shiver up her spine, and she had to work hard to keep her jaw from dropping to the ground. How does he even know this song? Amy's parents had raised her on their music, and her dad had always told her that they'd picked her name from the Pure Prairie League song Sean was still strumming the opening bars to. It wasn't until she was older that she realized her parents must not have seen the actual title, only heard it, since they hadn't spelled her name "Amie", but by then, it didn't matter; the song was her secret favorite, the one that she'd hummed to herself in her room growing up whenever she was getting ready for a date. She'd always hoped that someday, someone would dedicate the song to her on the radio, but she'd never expected to hear it sung live by a musician with smoky blue eyes that were boring into her soul.

Amy wanted to look away, especially when Sean started the first chorus and she felt the people around her shift their attention away from Sean to glance at her, but she couldn't pull her eyes away from his face. He sang every word deliberately, his eyes filled with meaning, and Amy's throat caught at the song's declaration of love. By the time Sean had hit the last refrain, her pulse was racing, and even across the crowded porch, the smile he gave her made Amy think that Sean knew exactly the effect his crooning had on her. But he doesn't realize that the sexy is all mixed up with the sad.

Everyone clapped when the song ended, and Sharlene leaned over, poking Amy in the ribs. "Looks like you're falling fast, girl!"

Amy shook her head, trying to get a grip on her runaway emotions. "The song just reminds me of my folks is all," she said. It was half the truth, at least.

Sharlene's smile slipped. "Oh, Ames," she said softly. "I'd forgotten about that. I'm sorry."

Amy tried not to feel guilty for using her parents to change the topic. "It was a long time ago; you aren't supposed to remember everything from college."

"Still." Sharlene gripped her hand across the table for a minute. "I do remember. The funeral was in the middle of finals week sophomore year," she said softly.

Amy nodded. "I didn't really want to take the tests when I came back, but I guess it was a good thing all my professors were willing to give me time." She paused. "Failing that semester sure wouldn't have been what Mom or Dad would have wanted."

"Did you..." Sharlene paused. "When did you start driving again?"

Her parents had been killed in a car accident, driving home late at night, and Amy had stopped driving as soon as she'd heard the news. "It took a while," she admitted. "I can handle it now." That was mostly true; if she gripped the steering wheel and tried not to think about anything, she could drive when she had to now, but that was one of the things she loved about living in New York; she barely had to drive anymore, even though she'd bought a brand new BMW for the look of the thing after her promotion.

Swinging her eyes back to the stage, Amy searched for a way to change the topic. "He's pretty good, isn't he?"

Sharlene nodded, a small smile on her lips when she noticed Sean wink in their direction. "He'd be lucky to have you."

Amy was spared from answering by the opening notes of the next song, a slow, swaying number that made Jeremiah hop to his feet. "Come on, sweetie, I told you I wanted to practice."

Sharlene stood up with a smile. "Just don't dip me, you big fool," she teased as she followed her fiancé off the porch to a clear patch of dirt. Amy watched them go with a wistful smile, then turned her eyes back to the stage. Sean wasn't staring at her anymore; his eyes were closed, as if he was concentrating deeply on the notes his fingers were playing, and Amy watched, mesmerized. Emotions rippled across his face with the music, and she felt the pulse of his guitar in the very center of her being. How can he be so passionate about someone else's lyrics? Amy wondered, watching as Sean finished the song and slipped smoothly into the next, another familiar, twangy tune Amy remembered from her parents' records.

A memory of dancing around the living room with her dad slipped into her mind, and Amy smiled at the thought. It had taken a long time after her parents died for her to be able to think about them with anything but sadness, but the music was making Amy sweetly nostalgic. Finishing another glass of wine, Amy glanced back up at the milk crate stage.

Sean caught her eye, and with a wicked smile, he launched into a bizarre acoustic version of "Only the Good Die Young". Amy rolled her eyes with a laugh, but she couldn't help listening to the come-on in the lyrics and wondering if Sean meant what he was singing. Her hand reached for her necklace, and she fiddled with the pendant while her mind wandered, fantasizing about calloused fingers caressing her skin. Maybe, for this weekend at least, she could let her hair down and have some fun.

### CHAPTER SIX

God bless whoever invented music, Sean thought as he locked eyes with Amy. It works like a charm every time.

He hadn't planned on playing during the rehearsal dinner; nobody was paying him, and he didn't usually jam in public without a pay check these days. But he'd made the snap decision while he was standing in line at the buffet behind Amy, and he was glad he had. When he dedicated the Pure Prairie League song to her, he'd thought it was a stroke of flirting genius, but he hadn't been prepared for the level of emotion that she showed. It had almost looked like she'd had tears in her eyes when he finished, but Sean had dismissed that notion as soon as it occurred.

Still, he felt a little uneasy about her reaction, and something inside of him ached to comfort her, whether her tears were real or imagined. He had the feeling she was dragging around some baggage, too, and for the first time in a long time, he wondered what it would be like to have someone he could mess around with and actually open up to, as well. But the applause brought him back to himself, and he realized that now that he'd started, he could hardly stop after one song; that would be way too obvious, and even though he knew everyone would be whispering and wondering for the rest of the weekend, he didn't want to give them more fuel. So he launched into another song, and another, and he forced himself to keep his eyes off the beautiful blond near the back of the porch.

When his fingers started picking the familiar chords of a Billy Joel song, his eyes found Amy's again, and this time, she smiled at him. Tipping his head to one side, he gave her his best wink before closing his eyes and starting to sing. The next time he glanced at her, she was still watching him, and this time she was laughing. Warmth flooded his stomach. He started hamming even harder, watching her reactions. It surprised him how much he wanted to make her laugh; it felt good to see beneath the mask she wore, to watch her forget to be uptight and actually start enjoying herself.

A little voice in the back of his mind warned him that he was already too far gone to keep her at a safe distance, fling or not, but Sean realized he didn't care. It had been too long since he'd been more than merely sexually attracted to any woman, but with Amy, he wanted to know what made her laugh, to talk with her and share things he hadn't voiced in years. He was realistic enough to know that kind of thing wasn't likely to accompany a wedding fling, though, so he pushed the dangerous thoughts aside and decided to concentrate on convincing Amy to have a little fun with him for the weekend. After all, he told himself, a little fun never hurt anybody.

### CHAPTER SEVEN

The wedding day dawned cloudy. Amy kept watching the sky, but the rain that looked like it could fall at any minute never made an appearance, and soon Amy found herself sitting on a long pine bench facing the lake behind the inn as Sharlene and Jeremiah exchanged their vows. Even though Amy hadn't thought of herself as a hopeless romantic in years, not since college, tears welled up in her eye at the couple's first kiss, and she almost lost it for real when Sharlene gave her a weepy hug after the ceremony.

"It means so much that you're here," the bride had said, trying not to smear her makeup as she wiped her face. "And look!" She reached for the pendant Amy had given her, which was dangling on its chain just above the lace-trimmed neckline of Sharlene's wedding dress. "It's perfect!"

Amy squeezed her back without saying anything for a moment. When she finally found her voice, she said, "I'm really glad you emailed me, and I'm sorry we lost touch."

"Not going to happen again!" Sharlene declared with a wet smile.

Amy nodded in agreement before stepping back to let other people congratulate the happy couple. Surreptitiously wiping her eyes, Amy wandered away from the crowd and stared at the placid waters of the lake. Stooping down, she found a small, oval pinecone on the ground at her feet, and giving into instinct, she pulled her arm back and flicked the cone into the water, trying to make it skip.

"Need a stone for that," Sean said from behind her. Amy repressed a delicious shiver at the sound of his voice.

"I figured. It just seemed like the thing to do." She gestured out at the water. "It's beautiful up here."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Even though it's the back end of beyond?"

"Your words, not mine." She paused. "And I'm not judging anyone," she finally added, glancing up at him. "Well, except maybe you."

He grinned at her. "I guess I deserved that."

She nodded. "Just because I'm from the city—" she took a deep breath. "I don't want to spoil this." She gestured out to the lake, hoping he'd understand that she was done bantering. "Any of it," she added, risking a glance at his face, but his expression was unreadable.

After a beat, Sean started to walk along the lakeshore, further away from the party guests, and after a moment, Amy fell into step beside him. "It is pretty, I guess," he admitted. "You forget how beautiful things are when you see them every day." He glanced at her with a wide smile. "Although I doubt any guy would be able to forget you."

Amy laughed, but her heart sped up. "Smooth."

Sean tipped his head. "I try."

They lapsed into easy silence as they moved along the lakeshore, and after a few minutes, Sean reached for her hand. Waiting for the flirty banter that Amy had started to expect from him, she hesitated, but Sean didn't say anything, and Amy couldn't shake the feeling as she laced her fingers through his that something had shifted somehow, without her being aware of it.

Walking hand in hand with him, Amy searched for something to say. "I can't figure you out," she finally offered.

Sean lifted his shoulders in a gentle shrug. "What's to figure?"

"Are you really as full of yourself as you seem?" The words sounded harsh, and Amy tried to soften them. "I mean, one minute, you're coming onto me, and the next, you're—well, you're confusing."

A smile tugged at his lips. "So you've been thinking about me?" He tightened his fingers around hers.

Amy flushed. "Maybe a little," she admitted, "but that's just because I don't know what's going to come out of your mouth next."

"I'll take that as a compliment. Ladies love a mystery man, right?" He grazed his thumb against her palm, and she shivered.

"I guess what I'm saying is, I'm trying to figure out who the real Sean is."

He looked down at her, his eyes sharp. "Maybe that doesn't matter. Can't we just be two strangers who can't keep their hands off each other?"

Amy's pulse started to pound. "That isn't what I had in mind," she said.

Sean's eyes sparkled. "But I promise you'll enjoy it. Besides," he added, "what are the chances of anything real between you and me?"

Amy dropped his hand, stung. "What do you mean?"

"Vermont, New York, it'd never last." Sean reached for her hand again, trailing his fingers down her arm. "But we're both adults, and I was thinking we could save ourselves a lot of frustration if we just admitted that there's a spark here." He took a step closer to her, and Amy looked up, studying his face.

"So, what, you're just suggesting a random wedding hook up?" She fiddled with her necklace, but her hand froze when Sean's eyes skimmed her throat.

He cocked his head to one side. "I'm suggesting," he purred, "that we're two consenting adults who want to have a little fun this weekend. Unless," he leaned closer, his lips almost brushing against hers, "I'm totally misreading you."

Heat filled Amy's body, and she licked her lips, wondering if she should just kiss him now and stop torturing herself. "How can you be sure you didn't just ruin any chance you might have had with me with that little speech?"

"Because I think we're alike, Amy. I'm not looking for anything that takes much effort, and I get the impression you aren't, either. But I wouldn't say no to the chance to see you let your hair down," he murmured, lifting his hand to stroke the back of her head.

Amy shivered at his touch, and her hands went involuntarily to his chest. Her fingers curled against him, pressing her nails against his shirt with gentle pressure, and she felt a surge of satisfaction when Sean closed his eyes as a shudder passed through him. When he opened his eyes, Amy pulled her hands away and took a step back, her breath coming hard. She turned back toward the inn, trying to get a grip on her thoughts. Would it be worth it, just to feel his body pressed against mine? Glancing over her shoulder at him, she smiled slightly. He's right; it isn't like I'm looking for anything permanent right now. Amy tipped her head to one side and started walking again, hoping he would follow her.

He did.

Just around the bend from the inn, he paused, glancing at the trees that surrounded them. "The reception's starting soon. I won't be free much during the party, but I was wondering—if I'll see you after." He swept his eyes to hers, and Amy met his gaze head on.

Her heart started to pound. "Maybe," she said slowly, her eyes traveling over his frame before coming back to rest on his piercing gaze. "I'm driving back early tomorrow," she finally offered, her lips dry.

Sean's smile stretched wider. "That means you've got all night to play."

"Won't people talk?" Amy asked, her rational mind grasping for one last reason to put him off, even as her body swayed a fraction of an inch toward him.

"Only if they know."

His words sent a shiver of anticipation heat down her torso, and she smiled slowly. "I'm not very good at secrets," she finally said, "but I might be able to make an exception."

***

The reception was in a big barn out back behind the Pine Tree Inn, and despite her expectations, it took Amy's breath away. White, orange, and pale yellow paper lanterns had been hung from the tall ceiling, and the uneven slats of the ancient wood let in slivers of light, turning the old barn into a scene from a rustic fairy tale. Sharlene has really good taste, or Roxy does, Amy thought as her eyes skimmed the decorations before coming to rest on the wedding cake proudly displayed on a table at the front of the space. She laughed out loud when she saw it; fondant had been molded to look like tree bark, and each thick tier of the cake looked like a slice of a log, topped with sugar wildflowers and moss. I'll have to ask Roxy if she did the cake, as well, or if they ordered it.

There wasn't a band, but Amy knew Sean would be playing soon. In the meantime, however, someone had hooked up an iPod to the speaker system in the barn, and instrumental music made a nice background to the happy chatter of the wedding guests. Joanne waved to her, and Amy made her way through the crowd to a table near the stage, pulling out a chair beside Joanne with a smile.

"Isn't it perfect?" The other woman gushed, and Amy had to admit that it was.

"I've never been to a wedding quite like this one," she said honestly, looking at the pinecones arranged in the center of the table. "Was it all Sharlene's idea?"

Joanne nodded. "Roxy made it happen, but Sharlene spent the last year playing on Pinterest, and it sure paid off!"

Amy nodded, reaching for the glass of water sitting at her place. "Roxy should advertise. Not everyone can pull something off, even if they have the inspiration."

Joanne shook her head. "Try telling her that. I know it takes money to make money, but Roxy's dead set against spending any more than she has to." The woman sighed. "It's hard to overcome a frugal upbringing, I guess, but it would be great to see somebody from our little town actually make it to the big time."

"What about Sean?" Amy asked cautiously. "He's pretty good. Do you know if he wants to go after a recording contract or anything?"

Joanne laughed. "Him? Nah, he's happy to just poke around here. He plays gigs in other towns sometimes, but nothing big."

"I wonder why?"

Joanne leaned forward. "He used to be in a band, back when we were all just kids. They talked about landing a recording contract then nonstop."

"What happened?"

"Sean hooked up with this girl who'd just moved here, I think her name was Joy. Anyway, they hooked up and she started singing with the group, but after about a month, her folks walked in and found her slicing her thighs with a razorblade, and they shipped her off to an institution somewhere." Joanne paused. "I really shouldn't gossip," she added as an afterthought, "but her family moved away, so I guess there's no harm in you knowing about her."

Amy shook her head. "I still don't understand what that has to do with the band."

"Sean was pretty broken up about losing her, and he stopped writing songs. They kind of fell apart after that."

Amy raised an eyebrow in surprise. "He wrote his own songs?"

"Hasn't for years. When he started playing again, it was just covers, and as far as I know, he's never mentioned the old dreams. The rest of the band moved on to other things, anyway; Sean's the only one still making music."

"Hmm," Amy chewed on her lower lip in thought. "He's good; I'd love to hear one of his own songs," she added without thinking.

Joanne cocked her head to one side. "Has our local playboy made another conquest?"

Amy flushed, remembering the lingering promise of Sean's eyes. "Hardly," she scoffed, trying to play it cool. There was no reason to give anyone the chance to gossip about her plans with Sean after the party, but Amy wondered if her flushed skin had given her away.

She was saved from whatever Joanne was about to say when a cheer went up around the barn and Sharlene and Jeremiah came in, hand in hand. Amy and Joanne got to their feet, applauding, and Joanne even let out a loud cat call that made Sharlene laugh as she twirled around, her beautiful cream gown swirling out around her. The couple headed for a small table placed near the cake, and Amy couldn't see them anymore. Instead of sitting back down, her eyes scanned the barn. "Where's the bar?"

Joanne chuckled. "The back of the barn. But hurry, the kids'll be around to serve the food soon."

Amy looked down at her companion. "Kids?" She asked, wrinkling her nose.

"Roxy pressed all the kids into service; she doesn't have a catering staff or anything, and since Sharlene's a friend, Rox wasn't too worried about it looking professional." Joanne shrugged. "Besides, it's a way for them to make a little cash this weekend."

Amy laughed. "Much more glamorous than babysitting or mowing lawns, I suppose. Want anything?"

Joanne shook her head. "Not yet; I'm saving my calories for the cake and a glass of champagne later."

Amy nodded and wove through the crowd to the bar without difficulty, where she snagged a glass of white wine. Before she was back to her seat, however, a familiar voice filled the barn, and Amy's eyes traveled to the stage, where Sean was leaning toward a microphone stand.

"Are y'all ready to welcome Mr. and Mrs. Bloom to the dance floor for their first dance as husband and wife?"

The crowd clapped and whistled, and Sean motioned to Sharlene and Jeremiah. Standing from his chair, Jeremiah bent over Sharlene with a practiced bow, and she put her hand in his, grinning from ear to ear. The guests parted, and Amy realized the dance floor was right in front of the stage...and her table. Weaving back toward her seat, Amy watched Sharlene and Jeremiah start to sway slowly as Sean struck up the opening notes of an old jazz standard. It sounded a little odd on the guitar, but Sean's velvet voice made up for the strangeness, and Amy was soon mesmerized. Joanne poked her in the ribs when she sat down, and some of her wine slopped onto the table.

"Aren't they sweet?" Joanne asked, her eyes trained on the couple.

Amy pulled her eyes away from Sean and nodded. "They look good together." They did, too; Jeremiah was tall and broad, and Sharlene's dress accentuated her curves, even though the top of her up-do barely grazed Jeremiah's chin. Amy sighed wistfully, watching them. When she was a little girl, she'd envisioned her perfect wedding a million times, down to the cake, the colors of the flowers, and the cut of the dress. Over time, though, that vision had gotten rusty, until Amy finally shut the door on her dreams. She'd had too many failed relationships as an adult to continue to believe in the fairy tale wedding, and she'd done a pretty good job of convincing herself that she'd outgrown the fantasy. But watching Sharlene and Jeremiah snuggling together on the dance floor made her heart ache in an unfamiliar way, and Amy found herself suddenly remembering the hopes she'd once had.

After the dance, everyone clapped, and when Sean struck another chord, a few people joined the lovebirds on the dance floor. Amy itched to join them, but the only person she wanted to dance with was behind a microphone, so she stayed in her seat, sipping her wine and trying not to be too obvious about the way her eyes kept finding Sean.

He smiled while he sang, and sometimes he closed his eyes as if he were lost in the music. If he noticed Amy watching him, he didn't let on more than once, but that once was enough. It was toward the end of the reception, after the cake had been cut and people were starting to say their goodnights, but Sean was still playing. He'd locked eyes with Amy for a split second though, his gaze hungry, and he leaned forward, sweeping his gaze over the barn before launching into a mournful rendition of "Closing Time". Amy drained her glass in anticipation, and when she stood up, she could feel Sean's eyes watching her from the stage.

Slowly, she headed across the barn to give Sharlene and Jeremiah a hug, and when she was done, she glanced back at Sean once. His blue eyes held a question, and Amy gave him a quick nod before she could stop herself. His lips curled up into a knowing smile, and he tipped his head in the direction of the hotel. Amy nodded again, her heart pounding with anticipation, before she slipped out into the balmy night.

### CHAPTER EIGHT

Sean's eyes trailed after Amy as she left the barn, but he knew better than to follow her immediately. It didn't take long for him to pack up his guitar, though, leaving it in its case at the rear of the stage, and he slipped out the back door without anyone noticing.

There were still people milling around in front of the inn, and Sean waved to a couple of his friends, but he figured they wouldn't think anything of it to see him there so late; he sometimes helped Roxy out, and everybody probably expected him to stick around for the post-wedding cleanup.

He walked into the lobby of the inn and glanced around quickly. Although his sister had owned the place for almost ten years, Sean still thought of it as belonging to their grandparents, and the fact that Roxy had insisted on keeping the old décor exactly as it was heightened the illusion. Sean was always half expecting to see his granddad's ghost rocking in one of the old chairs, smoking his pipe and talking about fishing. A wave of nostalgia passed over him, but the lobby was empty of both the living and the dead, and Sean gave himself a mental shake. Not the time to think about family, he reminded himself as he crossed to the front desk.

Roxy kept meticulous notes, and Sean easily found the hand-written register under the counter. He pulled it out and skimmed until he spotted Amy's name and room number. With another glance over his shoulder to make sure nobody had come in or noticed him, Sean hurried up the stairs, his muscles taught with need.

As he climbed, he thought about the different ways he wanted to explore Amy's body, and his heart rate increased with each step. When he reached her room, he paused outside the door for a moment, his breath already coming fast at the thought of what waited for him behind the door. He wanted to savor the excitement and the fantasy of flesh and heat that was building in his mind, but something told him the reality was going to be even better than he hoped. Running a hand through his hair, he squared his shoulders and knocked.

### CHAPTER NINE

Amy had made it back to her room and kicked off her shoes before she realized that she'd never given Sean her room number, and she froze for a moment, trying to figure out if it would be better to just let it go, or if she should go back to the barn and try to catch him. Caught in her indecision, she jumped when someone knocked on the door.

"Who is it?" She called, trying to slow her pulse.

"Who else? Hurry up and open it, would you?" Sean's voice was soft, and Amy hurried to the door. When he stepped into her room, he closed the door behind him and turned the key in the lock with one swift movement.

Amy couldn't stop the smile that spread across her face. "You think we aren't safe here?" She teased.

In answer, Sean's eyes traveled over her, skimming the length of her body with appreciation. "I know I'm not safe with you," he intoned as he took a step toward her.

Amy chuckled. "Do those kind of lines really work?" She tried to sound sure of herself, but Sean's determined presence in her room had robbed her of her earlier certainty. Suddenly nervous, she brought her hand up to tuck a stray piece of golden hair behind her ear. Sean reached for her hand, catching her in mid-movement, and they stood like that with their eyes locked for a breathless moment.

"You tell me," he said softly, letting go of her hand and reaching for the stray hair. Instead of tucking it behind her ear like Amy had been about to do, however, Sean's fingers skimmed the hair, slipping toward the clip at the back of her skull. Deftly, he snapped it open, and Amy's long hair cascaded down her shoulders.

Sean's other hand reached up, tangling itself in her hair, and Amy gasped in pleasure at the sensation of his fingers against her scalp. Tightening his grip, Sean pulled her face toward his. Amy kept her eyes open, the rational part of her mind hesitating even as he claimed her mouth with a kiss, but when Sean slid his arms underneath her hair, searching for the zipper to her dress, Amy pressed her body against him and tipped her head back, urging him to go faster as the last of her resistance melted away. Sean smiled against her lips, and instead of speeding up, he slowed down, igniting his skin as he trailed his mouth over her neck and collarbone. Delicately, he flicked his tongue against her throat, and Amy shuddered. Sean chuckled, and his fingers began tracing tortuous circles along her spine.

Amy tilted her head forward and nipped his ear. "Two can play that game," she murmured, slipping her hands around his neck and then slowly dancing her fingers down his back until she reached his belt. Stroking the leather, Amy reached one hand around to the front, pressing herself away from Sean as her fingertips reached toward his zipper, light and teasing.

Sean let out a guttural sound, arching toward Amy's hand, but she pulled her fingers away and took a step back with a wicked smile. Sean surprised her by dropping to his knees in front of her and reaching for her hips, pulling her toward him again, and heat built between her legs as Amy felt his lips through the thin fabric of her dress. A soft moan escaped her, and she tangled her hands in his hair, pressing him closer to her secret darkness.

Sean slid his hands up her legs and underneath her skirt, his fingers taunting her the same way she had teased him. She felt the callused tips of his fingers stroking her inner thighs as his lips teased her through the front of her dress, and Amy finally surrendered the need to be in control. She felt like she would break if Sean didn't cover her body with his that moment, and a shudder raced through her as she melted into his touch. Sean must have felt the subtle change in her, because he lifted his eyes and got to his feet, his hands trailing gently up her arms while he watched her face. They were both panting, but before Amy had a chance to catch her breath, Sean's mouth had claimed hers again, and she surrendered to his kiss.

Some tony, desperately type-A part of her mind was still in control enough that alarm bells started going off in her head as Sean pressed her against the wall, nearly toppling a small table in the process, but she didn't care; it had been too long since anything had felt as good as Sean's lips and hands felt, and Amy shut her eyes, relishing the sensations he stirred in her.

The alarms didn't stop, and Amy opened her eyes hazily just as Sean jerked his head away from her. "Shit," he said, grabbing his shirt, which Amy hadn't remembered being discarded, before reaching for her hand. Before she could gather her wits, he tugged her toward the door, flipping the lock and opening the door in one fluid movement before he thrust her into the hall.

"What—" She started to demand, but Sean just held onto her hand and pulled her down the hall.

"That was the fire alarm. We've got to get out!"

Suddenly, Amy realized that the warning bells were still ringing, and she turned back toward her room. "I have to get my computer!"

Sean didn't let go of her. "This place is like a tinderbox just waiting for a spark. Leave it!"

Reluctantly, Amy did, running after him down the stairs and out into the yard in her bare feet. Pine needles pricked her mercilessly, but she followed Sean a good ten yards away from the inn despite the pain before turning back to look at the building. Instead of leaping flames and choking smoke, however, Amy saw a small clump of people standing on the porch, staring at her.

Roxy turned to Carol and Joanne with a broad smile. "All right, pay up."

Carol groaned. "Not fair! He's your brother; you probably have ESP where he's concerned."

Roxy cocked an eyebrow. "I lost last time, didn't I?"

Joanne nodded. "True. You thought they'd hook up yesterday."

Carol grumbled good naturedly as she opened her purse and pulled out a five. "Fine. Can't win them all."

Confused, Amy took in the whole exchange, still expecting to see flames shooting out of the inn. After a moment, she realized what was happening, and her jaw dropped. "You were betting on me?"

Joanne had the grace to look sheepish. "Well, you and Sean," she said.

Amy spun around to glare at him. "Did you know about this?"

Sean raised his hands defensively. "No, but it shouldn't surprise me. That's just my sister's sick sense of humor showing through."

Roxy grinned from the porch. "But I was right! I knew you'd hook up with her, Sean."

Amy's skin heated up, and she realized she must look like a mess, standing there flushed and rumpled in her bare feet, her hair loose around her face. Ignoring Sean, she marched back inside, past the chuckling group on the porch. "Then you pulled the damn fire alarm too soon!" She said over her shoulder. "We hadn't hooked up...hopefully that ruins the bet."

Roxy tried to say something to her, but Amy stalked upstairs, ignoring her. When she got back to her room, she slammed the door. What the hell was wrong with Sharlene's friends? Pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes, Amy took a slow, deliberate breath and tried to calm down. Am I wound up because of the stupid bet, or because we didn't get to finish what we'd started?

Frustrated, she flopped across the bed, which let out an angry squeak. Her blood was still pounding in her veins, and adrenaline was coursing through her. Between the false alarm and the way Sean's kisses seemed to linger on her skin, Amy was pretty sure she wouldn't get any more sleep at the Pine Tree Inn. Deciding it wasn't worth hanging around and facing Roxy and her friends in the morning, Amy hurriedly threw her things into her suitcase and slipped her shoes back on. She was still dressed for the wedding, but she didn't care; suddenly, she just had to get out of Vermont.

No one was manning the front desk when she came into the lobby, and Amy dropped her key on the counter and headed out into the dark night. She'd given her credit card information when she checked in, so she knew that Roxy could bill her for the room without her needing to stick around for a humiliating chat. Dragging her luggage behind her, she headed to the two-door BMW parked off to one side of the gravel driveway. The crowd had already dispersed, and Amy sank into the driver's seat of her car with a relieved sigh. She probably would have gotten herself in trouble with the locals if anyone had encountered her, and no matter how upset she was, she was clear-headed enough to think of Sharlene; she didn't want to spoil her friend's wedding by getting into a fight with any of the woman's pals, but Amy decided that she couldn't be held responsible for what she'd say the next time she saw any of the Vermonters.

"Not that there's going to be a next time," she grumbled, turning her car onto the freeway and pressing down on the gas. Sure, she wanted to keep up with Sharlene now that they'd gotten in touch, but there was no reason Amy would have to go back to the backwoods; Sharlene would just have to come into New York if she wanted to hang out with Amy.

As the miles slipped away behind her, Amy gradually calmed down, but there was a tiny knot of desire in her stomach that wouldn't go away, no matter how fast she drove. She was over an hour away when she remembered to be nervous about being behind the wheel, and she slowed down with a shiver. No point being reckless, regardless of what did or didn't happen. Despite the way the evening had ended, she'd really wanted to spend some more time with Sean, and as she scanned the dark horizon and struggled to keep her thoughts away from her parents, she found herself wondering if there was any chance they'd be able to finish what they'd started that weekend before she shook her head ruefully. Lightning doesn't strike twice, she reminded herself as she clenched the steering wheel and entered the city.

### CHAPTER TEN

Damn it, Sean thought, watching Amy stomp off. His sister had certainly screwed that up. Part of him wanted to go after Amy, but he figured she was too mad to talk to anybody just then, so he shoved his hands into his pockets and tried his best to look bored.

Roxy called out to him from the porch. "Thanks for the extra cash, big brother!"

He shook his head. "You're a bitch, you know that, right?" His words were harsh, but he kept his tone light and teasing. _No reason to get into it with her right now,_ he reminded himself.

She chuckled. "Nope. I just know you too well."

Sean ignored her and headed down to the barn to grab his guitar. He'd left it after the wedding, not wanting to carry it around the inn or risk forgetting it in Amy's room. As he slid open the old barn door, he thought about turning on the lights, but he decided against it. His eyes adjusted to the dark after a moment, and moving slowly, Sean headed toward the stage tucked into one corner, trying to pull his thoughts away from Amy.

He'd built the platform himself the previous summer, when Roxy told him she wanted to start hosting events at the inn. His kid sister pissed him off sometimes, and she pulled some ridiculous stunts, but no matter how much he wanted to strangle her, Sean would have done anything for her. _She's all I've got left_ , he thought, looking around the dark barn that felt even more deserted now that the wedding was over.

He sat down on the stage, staring at nothing in the darkness. Their grandparents had practically raised him and Roxy; with a mom in and out of rehab and a dad they'd never met, Popop and Grammy had been the only stable people in his childhood. When he hit adolescence, they'd been too rigid, too stable for his tastes, and he'd started writing songs and dreaming about making his escape. When he formed Bad Kitten, the band he'd let Roxy name, he'd really believed he was about to get out of their small town once and for all.

Sean got to his feet and crossed to the front of the stage, where the microphone stand was still set up. Gripping it with both hands, he leaned in close. "Hello, Madison Square Gardens." The mic was still on, and the words echoed in the empty barn. Sean looked down at the concrete floor, picturing a packed stadium of screaming fans. He hadn't wasted time on those kind of fantasies in years, and he idly wondered why he was thinking about it that night, but instead of stopping and going home, like he'd planned, he closed his eyes and hummed a few notes.

He hadn't written music since Joy broke his heart and the band broke up, but he still remembered every chord of every song he'd written back then, before he gave up. In his mind, he could hear the drummer behind him, and he moved his head in time with the imaginary music.

The lights overhead flickered on, and Sean whirled around, releasing his fantasy, but he relaxed when he saw Jeremiah beside the barn door.

"Shouldn't you be off doing your husbandly duties?" He asked, jumping down from the stage with a practiced smirk.

Miah smiled. "You know I'm not allowed to talk about that now. Code of married men and all that."

Sean chuckled. "Not like you've ever been one to kiss and tell. But seriously, what gives?"

"Sharlene thought she left her purse. I told her to forget it, but she wanted to send a couple of the wedding pics to her great-aunt down in Florida." He shrugged. "So I said I'd go and find it."

Sean shook his head and picked up his guitar case. "She's already got you beat, man."

"Someday, you're going to be begging for a woman to boss you around."

For a moment, Sean remembered the feeling of Amy's lips against his, of her slender fingers dancing across his waistband, and he shifted uncomfortably. "No, thanks," he quipped, dragging his mind away from what had almost happened. "Footloose and fancy free and all that."

Miah shook his head. "Someday, you'll find someone worth dropping that act for." He hesitated. "Sharlene keeps telling me that she thinks you and Amy would make a good couple."

Sean forced a laugh. "New Yorkers aren't really my type." He headed toward the door. "Shouldn't you be getting back to the wife?"

Miah grinned broadly. "Yeah. Is it pathetic that I really love the way that sounds?"

"What, wife?"

Miah nodded. "She's mine, and I'm not going anywhere. It's a pretty intense feeling, man."

Sean shook his head. "I'm going to take your word for it." He tried to sound light, but an unfamiliar feeling that might have been loneliness tugged at his gut as he followed Miah out into the night air.

He was halfway home before he realized his shirt was on inside out, and his stomach clenched with longing as he remembered Amy's frantic, demanding embrace.

### CHAPTER ELEVEN

Amy had been back to her old life for a couple of weeks before Sharlene tried to call, and the first two times, Amy let it go to voicemail. But the third time, guilt propelled her and she picked up the phone.

"Where've you been? I didn't get to say goodbye after the wedding."

Amy let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. "I wanted to get an early start," she said, choosing her words carefully. "Couldn't stay away from work any longer." And I needed to get away from Sean before I did something I'd regret.

Sharlene chuckled, and Amy relaxed even more. She doesn't know. "Well, I understand, but next time, at least say bye, okay?"

Amy switched the phone to her other ear and reached into the fridge. She'd forgotten to eat lunch at work, but she wasn't thrilled with any of the options she found at home. Sighing, Amy pulled a takeout container out of the fridge and started to eat, not even bothering to heat it up. "Okay. How was the honeymoon?"

"Magical! We went on a cruise, can you believe it?"

Amy smiled, remembering that Jeremiah had planned the honeymoon, and he'd wanted everything to be a surprise. By the tone of Sharlene's voice, it looked like he'd pulled it off. "That's great. Are you tanned and glowing now?"

Sharlene chuckled. "A bit. At least, the parts of me that aren't sunburnt are!"

Amy winced. "No fun. Take aloe next time."

"He packed for me, remember? I was lucky he remembered to pack clothes!"

"I don't need to know these things," Amy teased, settling onto her plum sofa and putting her feet up on the coffee table. "But I'm glad you had fun."

"What have you been up to?"

Amy took a bite of cold Chow Mein. "Work. The usual."

"Have you made any more jewelry?"

Amy hesitated. "I've been busy," she finally admitted. "Why?"

"Just an idea I had. Roxy's organizing an arts and crafts fair in the fall, and I thought it would be a cool place for you to sell your stuff."

Amy grimaced at the mention of the innkeeper. "No, thanks," she said, "sounds like too much hassle."

"You're really good. You should sell the stuff, if not up here, than at a boutique or something there."

"I've already got a job, remember? And we're not in college anymore; there's no point dreaming about a career that won't pay the bills."

"I don't know, Ames. You've got a gift. I'll bet you could actually make good money selling your stuff."

Amy glanced around her apartment. It wasn't glamorous or huge, but it wasn't a studio; she'd finally been able to afford a place with an actual door on her bedroom thanks to her latest promotion. "I don't have time," she said truthfully. "Not if I want to keep my job."

"Fine. But I still think you should think about it."

Amy rolled her eyes. "I'll think about it, okay?"

"Good." Sharlene sounded brighter. "We can talk about it more when I come to visit."

Amy stared at the phone in surprise. "You're coming to the city?"

"Yup. That is, if I can crash on your couch. Jeremiah has to go on a business trip, and I figured that's the perfect time for me to get down there and spend some time with you. It was good to see you at the wedding, but I'm looking forward to some one-on-one time."

Amy grinned, her shoulders relaxing. "That sounds good to me. When are you coming?"

"Is next week okay?"

"It's kind of short notice for me to take any time off work..."

"I don't need a babysitter; I'm sure there's lots to keep me occupied until you get done in the evening!"

Amy didn't want to tell her that most evenings she ended up working until the night cleaning crew came in and kicked her out. "If you're sure," she began hesitantly.

"Of course! I'll take the train." Sharlene paused, her excitement crackling over the line. "It'll be just like old times, roomie."

***

Sharlene got into town with a pack of maple syrup candies and a bottle of red wine. "Hostess gifts, Vermont style," she said with a wink as she handed the goodies to Amy.

Amy rolled her eyes, but she was smiling, remembering her banter with Sean during the wine tour. "Don't you ever get tired of living somewhere so...country?"

"Don't you ever get tired of living somewhere so city?" Sharlene countered, dragging her bag across the floor and dropping it next to the couch.

Amy shrugged. "I've always liked being in the city." That wasn't strictly true, but there was no reason for Sharlene to know that when Amy'd first moved there after college, she'd pretty much cried herself to sleep every night for a month. At the time, she'd hated everything about New York, from the crush of people to her crummy job as a clerk. But now that she'd landed a dream job and a better apartment, Amy mostly loved living there. The moments where she wondered what it would be like to see the stars on a regular basis, like at Sharlene's wedding, were few and far between, and Amy didn't allow herself to dwell on them.

Sharlene flopped down on the purple couch. "So," she said with a smile, "what are we going to do first?"

Amy perched on the arm of the sofa. "I've got the rest of the day off, but I couldn't skip tomorrow; there's a big meeting in the morning, and they want all the partners to be there."

"That just means we've got to pack in the fun this afternoon. Can we see a show?" Sharlene leaned forward eagerly, and Amy chuckled.

"If you like. Although we stand a better chance at getting good seats on Thursday, from what I've heard."

"You don't go to shows all the time?"

Amy shook her head. "I can count on one hand the number of Broadway productions I've seen since I moved here...and two of those were business schmoozes to impress prospective clients."

"Oh." Sharlene frowned. "We don't have to if you don't want to."

"Not really my thing, but I want to make sure you have fun." Amy paused. "What have you done the other times you've been here?"

Sharlene looked down at her hands, fiddling with her wedding band. "Well...this is actually my first trip."

Amy gaped at her. "Seriously?"

"Hey, we can't all be big city girls!"

Amy shook her head. "I'm sorry I didn't realize! We'll do anything you want this week, including sitting through the corniest musical on the planet, if that's what you want."

Sharelene smiled. "But we're saving that for Thursday." She paused. "Would it be too stupid to say I want to see the Empire State building?"

Amy stood up. "One tour of the observation deck, coming right up!"

### CHAPTER TWELVE

Sean hadn't expected Amy to stick around for long after the wedding, but when he sauntered over to the inn the next morning, he'd half hoped she'd still be there, breathlessly waiting for him on the porch like something out of a bad movie. She wasn't, of course, and a quick glance at the parking lot told him that the BMW with New York plates wasn't anywhere in sight.

Pushing down a surge of disappointment, he headed around to the barn. He'd promised Roxy he'd help her clean up once the wedding was over, and even though he was still mad at her for the fire alarm stunt, he wasn't mad enough to back out of a promise. Besides, it wasn't worth staying mad at anyone in the small town for long; sooner or later, somebody would need a favor, and feuds didn't last long when people were constantly swapping to-do lists and helping out like something out of a T.V. sitcom. It was one of the few things about small-town living that Sean actually enjoyed.

The barn was empty, and it didn't take him long to stack all the chairs, break down the folding tables, and pick up the worst of the trash scattered across the floor. By eleven, Sean was headed away from the inn in Roxy's jeep. She let him borrow it whenever he needed to work, and Sean was grateful; he'd rather save up for a new guitar than a car any day, and as long as he stayed on his sister's good side, that dream looked like it would be possible any day.

Even though he wanted to spend every waking moment with a guitar in his hands, the reality of it was his weekend gigs at The Desert paid almost enough to cover rent, but not quite. So, three or four times a week, he delivered pizzas and sandwiches for the deli the next town over. Business was usually slow on Mondays, but Sean didn't mind. He was pretty good at killing time without actually doing anything, and he was leaning across the counter of the empty deli, his thoughts drifting, when his cell phone rang. The call was from an unfamiliar number, and for a moment, Sean debated picking it up. Glancing at the front door in case his manager decided to put in an unscheduled appearance, Sean answered quickly.

"Sean? It's Eric. Long time!"

Sean grinned. "You're not kidding! What, you move to the big city and you forget how to use a phone?" Eric had been one of his best friends growing up, and one of his former band mates. After the band broke up and Sean fell apart, Eric had surprised everybody by graduating with honors, hitting the community college the next town over, and then moving to New York.

Eric chuckled. "Something like that. Look, I need a favor. You still playing?"

Sean sucked in his breath. "Yeah. Just covers, though."

"That's fine. I got a new job tending bar at this great little club, and our opening act just quit."

"Rough."

"Doesn't have to be. I told my boss I knew a guy who'd play for cheap, and he gave me the go-ahead to have you come and play a trial gig."

Sean raised his eyebrow. "How cheap are we talking?"

"The last band had a three-way split, and we paid them eight hundred a night. I told him you'd do it for three."

Sean stared at the phone in disbelief. "That'll barely cover my cost for getting all the way down there and back."

Eric sounded apologetic. "Look, I know it's not much, but it's a foot in the door. If he likes you, you could be playing every weekend, Thursday through Sunday. And you'd get to keep your tips."

"Where am I going to find a place to stay for cheap on the weekends in New York?"

Eric chuckled. "Don't tell me your chick magnet mojo has finally worn off."

Sean thought of the feeling of Amy's body in his arms, and he smiled. "Not by a long shot."

"Then just turn on that charm. I'm sure you'll have plenty of girls begging to take you home after the show."

Sean rolled his eyes. "I'm not a man-whore, you know. I don't go home with just anybody."

"Whatever. Dude, I'm telling you this could turn into a pretty sweet deal. Aren't you tired of playing for bears and skiers?"

Sean glanced around the deserted deli. "When's the audition?"

"Two weeks from Thursday. If you can't find anywhere to stay before then, you can always crash with me."

"I might just take you up on that," Sean said slowly. "You're sure your boss is okay with covers?"

"Sure. But if you wanted to write some new material, I bet he'd be game for that, too."

Sean forced a tight laugh. "Not likely."

There was silence for a moment. Finally, Eric sighed.

"Look, I know you were kind of a mess for a while—"

"I'm fine," Sean said, talking over him, but Eric kept right on going.

"But that was years ago, man! Don't you remember how great it felt to sing those brand new lyrics for the first time?"

"Drop it," Sean said, "or you won't get your favor."

"Fine," Eric said. "I'm just saying you're good is all. But covers will be good enough for The Haven." He paused. "So I'll see you Thursday?"

He wanted to say no; as soon as Eric mentioned songwriting, his interest in the job flew right out the window. But then he remembered that Amy lived somewhere in New York, and his lips curved into a tentative smile. It might mean another chance to get with her, he thought as he checked the calendar. Finally, he nodded. "I'm in," he told Eric. "And thanks."

### CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Even though it was the middle of the week, there was still a long wait to get up to the top of the Empire State building, and Amy had to bite back a snarky comment about the sea of tourists. Sharlene was practically bouncing with anticipation, and by the time they made it to the observation deck, Amy had to admit that she'd caught some of Sharlene's enthusiasm. Even the elevator doors were iconic, sporting the gold and black Art Deco outline of the building, and Amy's pulse began to race when the doors slid open to reveal the beautiful skyline. In all the time she'd lived in New York, she'd never been up there, and as the wind whipped a few strands of her hair loose from her carefully constructed French Twist, she leaned over the edge with a sense of heady anticipation.

"This is crazy!" Sharlene said with a smile, gesturing to the city spread out beneath them. "I feel like a god or something!"

Amy laughed. "I know what you mean," she admitted. "It's different up here. Like we hit pause on our lives and now we're floating above it all."

Sharlene glanced at her perceptively. "You hadn't been up here before, had you?"

Embarrassed, Amy shrugged. "It seemed too touristy," she admitted, hoping she irritate her friend with the admission.

To her relief, Sharlene just laughed. "What's wrong with being a tourist?"

Amy turned away, putting a couple of quarters into one of the huge pairs of silver binoculars mounted on the railing so she didn't have to look at Sharlene while she spoke. "I don't know. I was going to live here, you know? I figured I'd better start off acting like I belonged here instead of like I was just visiting."

"Why did you move here, anyway? I thought for sure you were going to go to Europe or something and become a street artist."

Amy made way for Sharlene to look at the city through the viewer. "My aunt got me my first job. Well," she amended, "I guess her husband did. He worked for the bank, and my aunt badgered him until he got me in as a clerk."

Sharlene glanced away from the binoculars to study Amy's face. "Was it weird, working with your uncle?"

Amy smiled faintly. "Not my uncle. That was my aunt's...second? Maybe third husband. I've lost track. I never saw him at work, and by the time my aunt had invited me over for dinner, he'd already been replaced."

Sharlene shook her head. "Sounds like she's quite the witch. But I still don't get it. Didn't you want the job?"

Amy paused, her walls going up as she cinched the belt on her gray trench coat a little tighter. "It doesn't really matter now, does it? I didn't have anything else lined up, and at least it gave me a direction." And it wasn't like I could move home.

"But you had a direction! Seriously, out of all of us, you're the one I was sure would actually find a way to make your dreams a reality. Every semester in college you managed to cram in more studio time than you spent on the rest of your classes combined."

Uncomfortable, Amy looked away, her eyes skimming the tops of the buildings below. "Dreams can change, right?"

"I guess," Sharlene admitted. "But you still could do something with your jewelry."

Amy smiled tightly, wishing her friend would drop it. "I am doing something with it; I still make it, right? And I've sold a few pieces here and there online."

Sharlene shook her head. "But you could be doing so much more! I bet you could start up a business if you really wanted to; I'd buy more of your designs, and I know the girls would, too."

At the mention of Sharlene's friends, Amy's smile slipped even more. "Well, I don't want to. I've got a good job, a good life, and there's no reason to risk all that just so I can play with wire and beads." And I'm starting to regret ever making that piece for you; I should have known better than to give it to somebody I know.

Sharlene held up her hands. "Okay, okay, sorry. I'll drop it." Turning away to survey the city again, she muttered, "I didn't realize how much you'd changed."

The words stung, but Amy pretended not to hear them. "Come on," she said, forcing a chipper tone, "there's still time to do something else touristy this afternoon. Where can I take you next?"

***

The conversation didn't shift to "what ifs" or "could haves" again, and as Amy gradually let her walls down, she actually started to enjoy shepherding Sharlene around the city. They spent a good deal of time wandering around the shops and boutiques in Nolita, the neighborhood north of Little Italy, and Sharlene's excitement as she dug through designer scarves and bold, beautiful bags started to rub off on Amy. She wasn't usually much of a shopper, but at Sharlene's insistence, she picked up a cream and peach silk scarf and wrapped it around her neck.

Sharlene clapped. "That's perfect with your hair," she said with a smile.

Amy shrugged. "I couldn't wear it at work; too casual."

Sharlene lifted one eyebrow. "Don't you have a life outside of work?"

The truth was she didn't, but Amy wasn't willing to admit that. "Maybe," she said, checking her reflection again. The scarf really did compliment her blond hair and fair skin, and there was something secretly romantic about the way the soft fabric felt against her throat. "Why not?" Amy finally said, forking over her credit card and letting the clerk wrap up the scarf. Sharlene bought a new purse, and insisted on dumping the contents of her old one into it before they left the store.

Slipping her arm through Amy's, Sharlene tugged her along, pointing out various people and cool looking shops with a level of enthusiasm that Amy envied. They passed a salon which was advertising a 50% off sale for first time customers, and Sharlene paused, eyeing Amy critically.

"How long is your hair now?"

Amy shrugged, touching her head self-consciously to make sure none of her mane had escaped. "Long, I guess."

Sharlene jerked her head toward the salon. "We should get makeovers. Wouldn't that be fun?"

Amy hesitated. "I don't want to do anything too drastic. I've got to keep it professional for work."

"Come on," Sharlene wheedled, "maybe just a trim. Or some highlights."

Amy glanced at her phone. "Not today. Don't you want dinner?"

Sharlene looked back at the salon, but she let Amy tug her away. "Can we come back before I leave?"

"Sure," Amy said, even though she didn't plan on getting a makeover. "If you want."

Sharlene brightened. "That gives me time to convince you that it'd be fun."

Amy shook her head with a smile. "You have a strange definition of fun. Now," she said, changing the subject, "what did you want to do for your first New York meal?"

"Is it too cliché to say pizza?"

Amy laughed. "Yes."

Sharlene pretended to pout. "But I'm the guest!"

They were both giggling as Amy lead the way to a little pizza place on the corner. "Now, I have no idea if things are good here," she admitted, but Sharlene just marched up to the counter.

"Nothing wrong with taking a risk every now and then, right?"

***

Even though Amy knew she had to be at her best the next morning for the big meeting, she and Sharlene stayed up half the night, talking about everything and nothing. Amy had forgotten what it was like to have a girlfriend she could trust; since college, she'd made a few friends in the city, but she hadn't realized that the friendships didn't run as deep as they could have until she'd gotten back in touch with Sharlene. Despite the years that had gone by since they really knew each other, it was almost like no time had passed.

When Amy finally went to bed, she fell asleep with a smile, but she woke up foggy and disoriented at the sound of her alarm three hours later. She glanced at the clock blearily, but then her eyes opened wide. "Shit!" Checking the time on her phone, she practically fell out of bed. "Shit, shit, shit!" She scrambled into the bathroom to take the fastest shower on record. Amy didn't bother to wash her hair, and her fingers deftly pulled it into a simple bun at the nape of her neck rather than worrying about one of her more intricate styles. There wasn't time to do a proper job on her makeup, so she smeared on some lipstick and hoped that she looked good enough as she hurried back to her room to get dressed.

"What's wrong?" Sharlene called from the living room. "It's only seven."

"I'm late," Amy said, biting back another curse as her fingernail snagged on her pantyhose. "The meeting's at eight!"

"Oh, shit!" Sharlene echoed, and Amy fought back a giggle. "I'll make the coffee."

Buttoning up her crisp white blouse, Amy grabbed her fitted navy suit coat out of the closet. "There's no time," she said, hurrying out of the bedroom with her spikey heels in her hands. "I'll grab some at the office."

"I'm sorry," Sharlene offered, looking dazed in her rumpled pink pajamas.

"Don't worry about it. I can make it. And here," Amy said, digging her keys out of her bag and tossing them to Sharlene, "now you won't be trapped here waiting for me."

"Do you want to do lunch? I can come up to your office."

Amy shook her head as she rushed out the door. "No time. But I'll text when I have a minute and we can figure out dinner."

She didn't hear if Sharlene said anything else, because she was already racing to the elevator, trying to tuck in her shirt and pull on her left shoe at the same time.

The elevator doors slid open, and Amy paused, startled. Staring out at her with a surprised expression was Sean, his jeans as tight as she remembered, with a guitar case strapped to his back. A slow smile spread across his face.

"What the hell are you doing here?" She asked, frozen in the hallway with one shoe half on.

Sean's lips stretched wider. "I've got a few gigs in the city this weekend, and thought I'd drop by for a chat."

Amy shook her head. "How did you find me?"

He chuckled. "No need to be so melodramatic about it. Sharlene gave me your address."

"I'm late for work," Amy blurted, still standing frozen in the hall.

Sean caught the elevator doors with one hand just as they started to close. "So come on," he said, gesturing beside him.

Baffled, Amy got into the elevator with him. "I still don't understand what you're—"

Before she could finish her sentence, the doors had clicked shut and in one movement, Sean had backed her up against the wall, his mouth covering hers with a hot, insistent kiss. Rational thought fled, and Amy opened her lips, savoring the sensation. Her hands slid around his hips, fingers twining around his belt loops before tugging him closer to her, and Sean chuckled against her mouth.

The doors opened again with a soft chime, and Amy heard someone gasp. Pushing Sean away from her, she tried to straighten her shirt. Giving her doorman a quick, businesslike nod, Amy strode into the lobby, trying to ignore the way her heart was racing and the heat that had built between her legs. She glanced back over her shoulder at Sean, wondering what was wrong with her all of a sudden. He took her look as an invitation, and, smiling, sauntered across the lobby. With a wink at the doorman, Sean stepped in front of Amy to hold the door.

"After you," he murmured, his face hovering dangerously close to hers.

She brushed past him, her heart pounding, but when they were on the sidewalk and he slid his hand to the small of her back, she swatted him away and stepped to the side, struggling to regain control of herself. "What the hell was that?"

He grinned. "I didn't hear you complaining."

She shook her head, trying to get a grip on her scattered thoughts. "You can't just show up at my apartment and jump me like that," she finally said, settling for what she thought was a reasonable tone.

"Why not?"

"We can't...people don't..." exasperated, she trailed off, blowing a chunk of blond hair that had come free from her bun out of her eyes. As hot as Sean was, something was holding Amy back, but she couldn't put her finger on it. _It's just because I'm late, that's all_ , she told herself.

Sean didn't seem to register her exasperation. "I thought it might be fun to finish what we started. But if you're not in the mood for fun," he held up his hands defensively, "I'm not going to force you."

"Sharlene's staying with me this week," Amy told him automatically, "so that kind of fun is out."

Sean took a step closer to her, his eyes sparking. "But you're saying it wouldn't be if she weren't with you?"

"Yes. No. I don't know!" A horn blared from the street, and Amy jerked her head, pulling out her phone. "Shit. I'm seriously late now." Hurrying to the curb, she put out her arm to hail a cab.

Sean touched her shoulder, his fingers lingering a moment more than necessary. "But I'll see you later, right?"

Amy nodded absently as she started to get into the cab that had pulled up. "Sure. Whatever. Why don't you tell Sharlene where you're playing this weekend and we'll see."

His lips stretched into a wide smile, and a jolt of desire shot through her. "I like the idea of wait and see. Gives me time to think of plenty of things you'll think are worth waiting for." He shut the door to the cab and gave a jaunty wave with his fingers. Amy was still turned around in her seat watching his shape recede when the car turned the corner, and even though he was out of sight, she couldn't quite let go of the sensations he'd stirred in her body.

### CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Sean watched the yellow cab pull into traffic, and then he shook himself. What had gotten into him? Sure, he wasn't one to ignore the offer of a little fun, but he'd never ambushed a girl in an elevator before. _But then again, you don't usually have the whole delayed gratification thing going on,_ he reminded himself as he turned away from the street.

He glanced back at the apartment building; Amy had mentioned that Sharlene was staying with her, and Sean figured she was still back in the apartment, given the hour. For a minute, he considered going up there and seeing if she wanted to spend the day bumming around the city with him, but then he shook his head. He shot off a quick text to Sharlene, inviting her to the gig that night, and then he pocketed his phone. With a wave in the direction of Amy's floor, Sean turned and headed into the crowded sidewalk, strolling along and savoring the sights and smells of the city.

Once, when he was a junior in high school, his class had made the trek to New York for an art field trip. Sean hadn't paid much attention to the museums, but he'd sure noticed the buskers on every corner. It had been the first time he'd seen musicians performing somewhere other than a stage or a sold-out stadium, and his teenage-self had been fascinated with the idea of making music on a street corner someday. _I've got plenty of time to kill until the gig,_ he realized, tucking his hands in his pockets as he walked. _Maybe I'll find myself a street corner and play a bit._

It seemed a little too early for any street performers to be out, even though he wandered around for what felt like miles, so Sean finally planted himself on a barstool in the window of a café, where he slugged back some coffee and people watched. The rhythm of the city seeped into him as he watched the people going by, and lyrics teased at his brain, just begging to be written down. Before he realized what he was doing, Sean had absentmindedly jotted down a line on the napkin in front of him. _City feet move, move, move._ He read the words back to himself, and even though he could hear the chords that should accompany those words in his head, he crumpled up the napkin.

_What is it with me all of a sudden?_ He thought, ordering another coffee to go and heading back into the street so he wouldn't be tempted to keep composing. _I don't write songs anymore. That part of my life ended a long time ago._

Everyone had said that Joy was unstable for a long time, that he shouldn't blame himself for what happened. But they didn't know that Sean had spent hours on the phone with her, tossing lyrics back and forth that were dark and deep, trying to outdo each other with melancholy words and notes. They didn't know that she'd sometimes cried when they kissed, or that he'd just thought she was being poetic when she told him her soul was bleeding. "If anyone could have helped her, it should have been me," he muttered to himself as walked. It was something he'd held over his head since he was seventeen, something he'd never voiced to anyone, not even the guidance counselors who called him down for mandatory weekly sessions after Joy's parents put her in an institution.

When he'd realized that his music had probably hurt her more than she was already hurting, Sean spent a long time beating himself up for not figuring it out sooner. That was when he'd stopped writing music; if his words had that kind of power, he had never wanted to use it again. _So why am I suddenly compelled to write songs?_ He puzzled over the question as he wandered around the city, but by the time he found a promising spot in Central Park just waiting for a street performer, he was too distracted by the past to want to play anymore.

### CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Although the cab ride gave her a chance to calm her racing heart and fix her hair, Amy was sure that all the male partners could read the heat on her cheeks as she rushed into the board room fifteen minutes late. A couple of the men smirked at her, and Amy forced herself to meet their eyes with a determined, confident gaze. As she slid into her seat, she smoothed her skirt, surreptitiously checking one more time to make sure she wasn't untucked or unbuttoned, and then she turned her attention to the front of the room, where Samuel Fitz, her boss, was watching her intently.

"Nice of you to join us, Ms. Savoy." It sounded like he overemphasized the _Ms._ , and his piercing dark eyes pinned her to the spot and made her palms start to sweat, but Amy tried not to show it. _How the hell do I talk myself out of this? I was up too late with my old college roommate, oh, and by the way, I had a random elevator hookup on my way into the office?_ She gave him what she hoped was an apologetic smile. "I've got company in from out of town, and I had to make sure my guest had a key before I left." _True enough_ , she thought as she waited for his reply.

He studied her for a long moment, but finally tipped his head slightly. "So it won't happen again." It was a statement, not a question, but Amy still shook her head in response. "Fine," he said, surveying the room, "let's get back to it, shall we?"

Amy resisted the urge to sink back into the plush leather conference chair and sigh in relief. Instead, she sat up straight and flipped open the folder that was sitting in front of her on the table. Her thoughts kept straying to Sean, however, and his unexpected appearance back in her life that morning, and Amy didn't really hear much of the meeting. Luckily, after the public shaming her boss had given her for being late, he seemed disinclined to speak to her again. On any other day, she would have felt slighted and worried by his behavior if he'd ignored her in a meeting, and then she would have then spent the rest of the week working twice as hard to make up for whatever it was she'd done that had pissed him off in the first place, but that morning, Amy was happy to be left alone with her thoughts.

When she caught herself doodling in the margins of her notebook, however, Amy forced her mind to stop replaying the events of the morning, so she was actually listening when Fitz gestured to Kingston, a recent transfer from the Texas office.

"I want to make sure this account is well-cared for, and I'm sure you'll all agree with me that Kingston has earned the opportunity."

The men around the table nodded, but Amy could read the glares and insincere expressions behind the silent acquiescence, and she marveled that their boss didn't catch the hint of mutiny. She should have been as furious as the rest of them; Kingston hadn't been in the office for more than a few months, and whatever the account was that they'd been discussing, Amy knew from experience that new blood never, ever got a chance to handle anything more important than coffee and copies for at least a year. As the newest partner, part of her remembered that she should have had a say in any new account assignments, and she almost wanted to complain. Still, she didn't grudge the newbie's instant rise; it might mean she'd actually be able to unplug over the weekend and enjoy the rest of Sharlene's visit.

Amy shook her head. _What am I thinking? I can't lose focus, not after I've worked so hard for all this._ After the meeting, she crossed the room and shook the Texan's hand. They hadn't really had a chance to work together yet, and Amy bit back a surge of jealousy when she realized that he was younger than she was.

"Good luck," she offered, mostly meaning it.

He smiled a charming smile. "Thanks. Hopefully it won't be too different from the accounts I'm used to back home."

"A word of advice," she offered before she could stop herself. "If you want to make it here, you're going to have to start thinking of this as your home."

He nodded. "I know. I'm still getting used to the city, but-"

"Not the city," Amy interrupted, "this office. You better learn to love your cubicle, because if you've got any plans of making partner, you're going to have to work for it. You better love it like it's the only thing that matters."

Kingston's smile slipped. "Has that worked out for you so far?"

Amy shrugged, trying to ignore the surge of defensiveness mingled with despair that threatened to overwhelm her. "It's worked," she finally ground out. "Did you see any other women around that table?"

Fitz stepped into the hall. "Savoy, a word, please?"

Kingston lowered his voice as she stepped around him. "I'm not gunning for your job," he said softly. "I just want to do my own work and do it well."

She glanced up at him and realized his expression was genuine, and some of her ire softened. "Then seriously, good luck. But this office isn't going to be like what you're used to."

He nodded slowly. "I've already figured that out. I've been here since January, remember?"

She nodded, although she didn't remember; _I've been too busy to notice things like that,_ she told herself firmly. Closing the door on Kingston, Amy faced her boss, resisting the urge to smooth her hands over her hair and make sure nothing was out of place. "Yes?"

"How are you coming with the report I asked for?"

He'd emailed her in the middle of her weekend in Vermont, asking her to pull the numbers for their corporate accounts in Europe, but between Sean's distraction and her hasty retreat, his request had gotten buried in her inbox. Since she'd been back to work, she'd barely had time to glance at her Blackberry, let alone crunch any numbers. "I'm working on it," she lied. "You'll have it by the end of the day."

His steely gaze met hers, and Amy tried not to flinch. "I hope so," he said slowly. "I'd hate to think that you weren't pulling your weight."

Amy clicked her mouth shut. "I'm on it."

He nodded. "Are you enjoying the new position?"

Since being made partner, Amy had barely had a chance to breathe, let alone realize if she was enjoying the work or not, but she forced a bright smile. "Of course! It's what I've worked toward all these years." Pausing, she wondered if it would sound corny if she thanked him again, but he still seemed to be waiting for something, so she offered, "Thank you."

"Being a partner at this firm is going to be different than you're used to," he said, clasping his hands behind his back and looking out the window at the city below. "It's a great deal of responsibility, and it wouldn't mesh well with a frivolous lifestyle."

"No, sir," Amy responded automatically, even though she had no idea where he was going with this.

He gestured to a chair, and Amy sat down, perching on the front and keeping her back ramrod straight. Fitz towered over her, but he just clasped his hands behind his back and looked down.

"You started working for us what, fifteen years ago, is that right?"

Amy nodded. "Right after college," she admitted.

Fitz smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "That's right," he said. "So that means you're...oh, I know a lady never admits to her age, but I can do math as well as the next person. Have you begun thinking about starting a family?"

Amy stared at him, dumbfounded. "I don't even have a boyfriend," she blurted without thinking. "Not," she added, hastily trying to back-peddle, "that my personal life will ever interfere with my ability to get the job done." Her lips tingled, remembering Sean's insistent kiss from earlier that morning, and she struggled to keep her expression neutral.

Fitz nodded slowly. "That's good. I'd hate to think that I made a mistake recommending you for this promotion."

A bubble of fear had been building in her stomach, and Amy shook her head frantically, pushing the memory of Sean's embrace completely out of her mind. "Oh, no. Not at all. I'm exactly the right person for the job."

Her boss smiled again. "I know that, and you know that, but, well, I've heard some rumbling at the water cooler. A few of the boys are worried that you'll give up on your responsibilities when you decided to start a family."

Gathering her wits, Amy straightened her shoulders. "My personal life has nothing to do with my ability to do my job," she reiterated, forcing a smile, "but I appreciate the warning."

He nodded to her in dismissal, and, keeping the smile plastered on her face, Amy retreated to her tiny office and shut the door. Sagging against it, she pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose and stared at the blank walls surrounding her. She hadn't been in the office long enough to make the space hers, other than hanging her diploma in its mahogany frame on the far wall. Since she was just the newest junior partner, the space didn't rank a window, but at least it offered more privacy than a cubicle. Turning the lock, Amy sank down to the floor with her back pressed against the door, fighting off the flood of frightened tears that was bubbling just under the surface. _I worked too hard to lose this now,_ she thought, wiping the wetness off her cheeks.

As she sat there stewing, her fear began to give way to righteous anger as she replayed the conversation with Fitz in her mind. "Did he seriously say that he's worried about my work because of my lady parts?" She shook her head in disgust. She had half a mind to go back to his office and remind him that sexual discrimination was illegal, and she tried to figure out exactly what to say that would get him off her case.

Her phone buzzed in her purse across the room, pulling Amy out of her tangled thoughts. Brushing off her skirt as she stood, she crossed the room in two quick strides and reached for her phone. "Yes?"

"Ames?" Sharlene's voice was soft, like she was far away.

Amy perched on the edge of her desk. "What's wrong?" Her friend sniffed, and Amy's heart clenched. "Are you okay?"

"Can you come home? I'm not—I'm not feeling well."

Amy glanced at her closed door. "It's really not a good time—"

"Amy, please." Sharlene's words cut her off, and Amy squeezed her eyes shut, frozen with indecision. "I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important," Sharlene added softly.

"Right. Okay." Amy took a deep breath. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

After she hung up, she glanced around the office. She knew leaving in the middle of the day would land her on Fitz's shit list, and after the lectured he'd just given her, she realized she didn't have much leeway. Amy paused. _Am I ready to give this up?_ A few months ago, she would have laughed at that idea, but a few months ago, she hadn't been back in touch with Sharlene. _I wouldn't have given this up for anything before,_ she thought as she grabbed her bag and headed toward the door, _but before, I didn't have anyone worth caring about in my life_. She headed toward the elevator, ignoring the incredulous stares of her coworkers as she rushed past.

When she got back to her apartment, everything was still. "Sharlene?" She called softly from the door, her eyes scanning the space. Nobody answered, and the knot of fear that had been in Amy's stomach since her friend called moved up into her throat. Instinct pulled her to the bathroom, but when she got there, she hesitated outside the closed door before knocking gently.

"Sharlene, sweetie, are you in there?"

A soft sob answered her, and Amy cautiously pushed open the bathroom door, unsure of what she would find.

Sharlene was curled up on the floor, her legs drawn up to her chest, and Amy's eyes swept over her quickly, checking for injury. Everything seemed okay, but Amy was sure her friend wouldn't have summoned her home over nothing. "Are you okay, Shar?"

Sharlene shook her head, tears running down her face. "There was a lot of blood," she began. "So much blood."

"If you're bleeding, we need to get you to the E.R. Maybe you need stitches. I'll drive," Amy said, her brain kicking into planning mode and taking over, but Sharlene held up her hand.

"I don't need stitches, Ames." She opened her fingers, and Amy stared at the pregnancy test in her friend's hand, uncomprehending.

Finally, it clicked. "You're pregnant?" She bent down to hug Sharlene and pull her up off the floor, but Sharlene's sob stopped her.

"I _was._ "

Amy sank down to the floor beside her friend. "I don't—what—" she swallowed. "What happened?"

Sharlene dropped her head back onto her knees and let out a muffled sob. "We just found out before Miah left this week. I'd been dying to tell you, but—" she broke off before finishing quietly, "but we wanted to wait until it was more of a sure thing." Her tears started falling harder, and Amy leaned forward, wrapping her arms around Sharlene. She slumped against Amy's shoulder crying, and Amy tried to think of something to say.

"I'm sorry," she finally offered, holding Sharlene close to her. "I'm so sorry."

Sharlene cried harder against her chest, and Amy wasn't sure how long they sat on the bathroom floor together, but she was willing to sit there for a year if it would take away some of Sharlene's misery. Part of her wanted to probe, to ask questions about how far along Sharlene had been, or to find out what made her think she was having a miscarriage in the first place, but Amy knew questions wouldn't help her friend. So she held her and they cried together until the sky outside the apartment had shifted to purple twilight. Finally, Sharlene sagged against Amy, her tears spent, and Amy glanced at her phone.

"Damn," she said softly. "It's too late to take you to my doctor tonight." She looked at Sharlene's tear-stained face. "Unless you think we should go to the emergency room?"

Sharlene shook her head. "Tomorrow," she said quietly. "Right now, I just want to sleep."

"Did you—" Amy hesitated. "Did you call Jeremiah?"

Sharlene's face pinched with pain. "I tried. Before you got home. But it kept going to voicemail."

Amy got to her feet and reached down to help Sharlene up. "Do you want to talk to him tonight?"

Sharlene hesitated. "I don't know," she finally said, her voice hollow. "What good will it do?"

Amy nodded without saying anything, because she had no idea what to say. "Whatever you need," she finally offered, "I want to help."

Sharlene gave her a tight hug. "Thank you," she whispered before moving out of the bathroom, shuffling to the sofa like a zombie.

"Why don't you sleep in my room?" Amy offered, desperate to do something.

Sharlene didn't say anything, but she changed course and headed toward the bedroom. At the door, she paused. "I'm...I'm glad I'm here," she finally said. "With you."

### CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The gig went better than Sean had hoped, but he tried to fight down a wave of disappointment when he didn't spot Amy in the crowd afterwards. _Maybe Sharlene forgot to tell her,_ he mused as he took a swallow of the free beer the manager presented him with once his set was over.

Eric came over and clapped him on the back. "Man, that was great. I almost forgot how good you are!"

Sean shrugged. "Whatever. Thanks for getting me the audition."

"Not a problem. If you work out, it'll be brownie points for me, too." Eric paused, his eyes taking in the crowd that still lingered in the club. "You going home with anyone tonight?"

Sean lifted an eyebrow suggestively. "Only if you'll have me."

Eric chuckled. "In your dreams, boy. But yeah, mi couch is su couch."

"Thanks," Sean said, setting his guitar case at his feet and pulling himself up on a bar stool. "How much longer are you here?"

"Two. But it usually goes pretty fast."

Sean nodded, taking another swig of beer. "No worries. I'll stay out of the way."

Maybe it was the buzz from the music, or maybe it was the way Amy kept circling through his mind, but Sean was feeling a pleasant sort of melancholy the longer he sat at the bar. _This used to be when I'd write my best stuff,_ he realized as he finished his beer. The urge to start writing music again had been growing ever since he'd met Amy, and Sean was starting to wonder if it might be time. _You don't have to tell anyone,_ he reasoned with himself. _No one needs to risk hearing your lyrics._ Although the reasonable voice in the back of his mind told him that Amy wasn't anything like Joy, that his songs weren't necessarily the reason she broke all those years ago, Sean ignored the thought.

He paused for a moment, but then he leaned over the counter and grabbed a ballpoint pen that was sitting beside the register. Glancing around like he was doing something illegal, he pressed the "print" button on the card machine and tore off a length of credit card paper. Sean spread his hand over the curl of paper, trying to flatten it, and then he paused. His fingers were itching to close around the pen and get started, but he had the vague sense that there'd be no going back if he broke his vow of silence.

Deliberately, he scrawled the phrase "Vow of Silence" across the top of the paper, and just like that, words began to pour out of him.

He was tinkering with the third verse by the time Eric tapped him on the shoulder. Sean looked up, startled, and realized that they were the last people in The Haven.

"Let's go, man. I'm ready for a drink."

Sean laughed and set the pen down. "Not one of the perks of the job?"

Eric shook his head and yawned. "Not here. Some clubs will let you, but I'd actually rather drink at home. Nobody there cares if I'm not wearing any pants."

Sean shook his head as he slid off the stool. "I care. No pants, no service."

Eric spotted the paper on the bar and reached for it. "What were you working on?"

Sean's fingers closed around the half-finished song protectively. "Oh, nothing. Just scribbling," he said casually, crumpling it up. But when Eric wasn't looking, Sean tucked the ball of paper into his pocket, and he picked up his guitar with a secret smile as he followed Eric out into the night.

### CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

While Sharlene slept, Amy called her doctor's emergency line and scheduled an appointment first thing the next morning. Then she curled up on the sofa and spent a sleepless night surfing the Internet, trying to find information on miscarriage that might help Sharlene. She was startled to find the statistic, repeated again and again, that said a quarter of all pregnancies would end the way Sharlene's had. Even though she'd never given much thought to the whole idea of kids before, she found herself thinking about the impossible heartache that seemed to go with getting pregnant. _What a risk_ , she thought, shaking her head sadly.

Amy didn't usually drive unless she was leaving the city, but one look at Sharlene's drawn, pale face the next morning prompted her to take advantage of the valet services offered by the doorman, and her black BMW was waiting at the curb when she and Sharlene got downstairs. No one had answered when Amy tried calling her office so she'd just left a message citing a "family emergency" as the reason for her absence.

Sharlene spoke softly as soon as Amy hung up. "Thank you," she offered, staring out the window at the busy street. "I know you have things to do."

Even though it made Amy nervous not to have both hands on the wheel, she reached over and gave Sharlene's hand a quick squeeze. "Nothing is more important that you right now." Maneuvering the car into traffic, she glanced at Sharlene. "Did you get ahold of Jeremiah yet?"

The woman nodded. "He said he's coming home today, and that he'd drive down to the city to get me first thing tomorrow."

Amy nodded. "That's probably a good thing. Not," she floundered, "that I don't want you to stay. I do. It's just—"

"I know. I'm not really good company right now."

"It isn't that," Amy protested. "I just—I don't know what you need."

Sharlene shrugged slightly, her eyes sad. "Time, maybe. I don't know."

***

When Sharlene came back into the waiting room, Amy set her phone down immediately. She started to ask a question, but Sharlene's fragile expression stopped her, and Amy settled for wrapping her arms around her friend in a tight hug. When they got back to her apartment, she offered, "I'd be happy to drive halfway tomorrow, to save Jeremiah the whole trip and get you home sooner, if you like."

Sharlene almost looked like she was going to say no, but then she nodded. "I'd appreciate that," she finally said. She paused awkwardly. "I'm sorry the visit's ruined."

Amy shook her head and forced a cheery tone. "Not ruined. Anything you want to do before you go home, just say the word. If you want to sleep, if you want to go out, whatever you need, I'm your girl."

Sharlene smiled slightly. "Actually, I was supposed to make sure you got to The Haven tonight."

Amy stared at her. "The what?"

Sharlene shrugged apologetically. "It's a bar. Sean's playing there tonight, and I'd offered to get you down there so the two of you could...talk." She shook her head. "It seems kind of stupid, now, how much energy I was willing to put into playing Cupid."

Amy rolled her eyes. "I'd forgotten he was in town," she admitted.

"You knew?"

"We...bumped into each other the other day."

Sharlene studied her face. "Do you want to go to his gig tonight?"

"I'd rather focus on you."

Sharlene looked away. "I don't know what good that's going to do, Ames. Besides, I promised Sean I'd get you to the bar."

Amy forced a laugh. "He's not my priority tonight. You are."

"I got the impression that there might have been some sparks between you two at the wedding."

Amy tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear with a self-conscious snort. "You might say that. We almost hooked up."

Sharlene grinned. "I knew you'd go for him! Wait, almost?"

"Yeah." A surge of embarrassment shot through Amy. "Your friends stopped it."

Sharlene drew her brows together. "What do you mean?"

Shaking her head, Amy tried to back-peddle. "Doesn't matter."

"Yes it does. What happened?"

With a sigh, Amy told her about the fire alarm and the bet. Sharlene's mouth dropped open, but when Amy was finished, Sharlene started to laugh. The sound was so unexpected in that moment that, after a beat, Amy started to giggle, too, and pretty soon, they were both clutching each other and laughing.

"Now you definitely have to go see him play; can't leave something that hot hanging!"

Amy shook her head. "I don't really know what the point would be. It's not like he and I could have anything more than a fling."

"Why not?"

Amy gestured around her vaguely. "Come on, Shar. Our lives couldn't be more different; do you really think a flirty musician would be happy with me for long?"

Sharlene frowned. "You sell yourself short. Why not give Sean a chance to make that decision?"

"It seemed pretty clear he was just looking for a little fun, and that seemed okay by me."

Sharlene studied her intently. "Seemed? But not anymore?"

Wordlessly, Amy shook her head. How could she tell her friend that after seeing her wedding, she'd started secretly nurturing the wild hope that maybe someday she'd find someone she could try to build a life with, someone who would hold her the way Jeremiah held Sharlene? It seemed cruel to express the twinge of jealousy she felt toward her friend, especially right after the miscarriage.

Sharlene didn't press. "I don't know what Sean's looking for," she finally said, "but I know you, Amy Savoy. If there's something you want badly enough, you've got to make it happen."

Amy tried to laugh. "I've made my career happen. Isn't that enough?"

"I don't know, is it?"

Amy sighed. "It'll have to be."

To her surprise, Sharlene dropped it. "If you change your mind, I think Sean's performing all weekend."

"Let's just worry about us tonight. Want to order take out, or is there something else you'd rather do?"

Sharlene smiled faintly. "I can't leave New York without more pizza, I guess."

Amy bowed. "Your wish is my command."

### CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Hanging out with Eric was more fun than Sean remembered, and they didn't make it to bed until after the sun had risen. When Sean woke up a few hours later, he could still hear Eric snoring from the bedroom down the hall.

Padding softly into the bathroom, Sean stepped into the shower. He usually liked to shower right after a gig, to wash the smoke and sweat away before trying to sleep, but last night he'd been too distracted drinking and laughing with Eric. Tipping his head back, he shut his eyes and turned on the spray, relishing the feeling of the water against his skin. He conjured up an image of Amy standing in the shower behind him, running her nails gently along his back, and he shuddered in delight. He wasn't sure why his mind kept returning to her; usually, his flings lasted a night or two, a week at most, and then everyone moved on. None of the women he'd been with had ever complained, so he figured the no strings arrangement worked as well for them as it did for him.

But Amy popped into his head whenever he was distracted, and he'd almost gotten used to seeing her face in his mind for the past few weeks. _I hope she makes it to the show tonight,_ he thought as he grabbed a towel and tied it around his waist, stepping onto the slick tile floor. _Would it be desperate to swing by her place again and make sure she knows about the gig?_

He shook his head, swiping his hand across the steamy mirror. "Yes," he told himself firmly. "She knows; Shar wouldn't forget to tell her." He heard his words, and he winced. _What am I, twelve? Since when have I ever needed someone else to set me up?_

He told himself that he was trying to man up, nothing more, as he hurriedly got dressed and let himself out of Eric's apartment, but the truth was, he was looking for an excuse to catch Amy on her way to work again.

Sean sent a quick text, letting Eric know he'd gone out for a walk, in case his friend woke up before he made it back, and then he retraced their steps from the previous night to get back to Manhattan from Brooklyn.

The subway took longer than he'd expected, and by the time he finally made his way to Amy's high-rise apartment building, it was after nine. _She's probably already at work_ , he thought, but he rode the elevator up to her floor anyway, his heart thudding in his chest as he tried to figure out what he was going to say to her again. ' _I miss you' sounds too desperate_ , he thought derisively, even as he realized it was the truth: they'd barely spent any time together, just the weekend of the wedding, but Sean was startled to realize that he _did_ miss Amy. He'd missed her the previous night at The Haven; missed her reactions to him playing, missed the feeling of her gaze when he finished up, missed seeing her there waiting for him at the end of the set. But if he was being honest with himself, he realized he'd been missing her since they met.

When the elevator doors slid open, Sean almost didn't get off. He was shaken by the depth of his longing for Amy, and more startled when he realized he wasn't just thinking about the next time he'd be able to get his hands on her. _I haven't thought this much about a woman in...years_ , he thought as he stepped slowly into the hallway on Amy's floor. _Not since...Joy_. The thought made him feel sick, and he paused outside Amy's door. _God, has it been that long since I've let my guard down?_

Swallowing his nerves, Sean lifted his hand and knocked. The air in the hallway seemed frozen, like the building was holding its breath, but as Sean exhaled loudly, he realized that was just him.

Nobody came to the door, and he knocked again, but he realized it had been stupid to come over, unannounced, and hope he'd catch her. _That time in the elevator was a fluke_ , he told himself as he gave up and headed back down to the street. Glancing back at Amy's building, he forced himself not to care. _She'll either show up at The Haven or not,_ he reasoned. _No point wondering about her all day._

But his mind didn't agree with him, and no matter what he did, his thoughts kept returning to Amy.

### CHAPTER NINETEEN

Sharlene didn't mention the miscarriage that night, and Amy didn't ask about it, but she felt guilty. Her time with Sharlene felt so normal it was easy to forget what had happened, but occasionally Amy's mind would jerk back to the reality of finding her friend crumpled up on the bathroom floor, and then their banter would turn sluggish for a bit until Sharlene cracked a joke or brought up someone they used to know in college, and then Amy would forget all over again.

She insisted that Sharlene sleep in her bed again, and early the next morning, they drove out of the city to meet Jeremiah.

"I'm sorry to spoil the rest of the visit like this," Sharlene said once they'd been on the road for a bit.

Amy glanced at her, incredulous. "You didn't spoil anything. I just wish—" she stopped herself.

"Wish what?"

"Wish that we were celebrating instead of...this."

Sharlene nodded, her eyes filling up with tears. "Me, too. Hopefully, though, we'll be able to celebrate soon."

Amy nodded. "Is it, um, safe to try again?"

"The doctor said I might want to wait two cycles, but that it's up to me." Sharlene stared out the window for a moment. "I don't know if I'll be ready right away."

"Yeah," Amy said, at a loss for anything else to say. They drove on in silence for a while, but when Amy pulled off the highway to get gas, her phone buzzed insistently. Sharlene dug it out of Amy's purse and handed it to her, but the call had just gone to voicemail.

"It's the office," Amy said, recognizing the phone number.

"I can get the gas if you want to call them back," Sharlene offered, unbuckling her seat belt.

Amy shook her head. "No, it's okay. I'll head straight there after I get back; anything at work can keep for now."

They made it to Troy around ten in the morning, and when Amy pulled into the parking lot of the rest area, she spotted Jeremiah sitting on the tailgate of a green pickup truck. She pulled up alongside him and leaned over to give Sharlene a hug.

"Did you want to come say hi to Miah?" She asked.

Amy shook her head. "You guys have a lot to talk about. I don't want to get in the way."

"When will you believe me that you aren't in the way? Seriously, Ames, I'd have been lost without you."

Amy brushed off the compliment. "Just take care, okay, and call me whenever you're up to it."

"I will. And remember, if there's something you want, go for it." Sharlene winked conspiratorially. "Sean's in town all weekend."

Amy chuckled and shook her head as Sharlene got out of the car. Jeremiah was at her side in an instant, wrapping her into the tightest hug Amy had ever seen, and she looked down at her hands, embarrassed to be intruding on their grief.

Somebody tapped on her window, and she glanced up. Jeremiah was standing outside her door, so she got out of the car and stood there awkwardly for a moment. "I'm sorry," she began, but he shook his head and gave her a hug.

"Thank you for keeping her safe," he said, his voice thick with emotion.

Amy shook her head. "I didn't do anything," she protested.

"You were there when I couldn't be. That's a whole hell of a lot."

***

Amy was still thinking about what he'd said when, hours later, she made it back to the city and maneuvered her way into the parking garage near her office. As she checked her hair in the mirror and tried to shift into her professional mindset, she realized that she'd been so preoccupied the entire drive that she'd forgotten to be nervous once, even when traffic got thick outside of the city.

_If that's what it takes for me to be happy driving, I hope I'm always miserable behind the wheel,_ she thought as she hurried into her building and up to her office.

The receptionist looked up when she walked in, and for a moment, it looked like the woman was about to say something, but then she dropped her gaze and busied herself with her computer. _Odd_ , Amy thought as she hurried down the hall to her office.

When she opened the door, she paused for a moment, wondering if she'd gone to the wrong room. The framed diploma on the wall had been replaced with a shadowbox filled with what looked like athletic medals, and the familiar potted plant she'd inherited from the office's previous owner had been moved from its usual corner to cozy up beside the desk instead.

Amy stepped into the hall for a moment, but she was in front of the right door. She scanned the hallway, but no one seemed to notice her. Finally, pushing her indecision aside, she went back into the office. Stepping closer to the framed awards, she realized they were race medals, but there was no name on any of them that she could see. She turned back toward the desk, a terrible feeling building in the pit of her stomach, but before she could set her bag down, someone came into the room.

"Oh!" It was Kingston, the recent transfer from their Texas office. "You're back."

She eyed him suspiciously. "Yes." Gesturing to the wall, she said, "I guess those are yours?"

He nodded, rubbing his hand along the back of his neck. "Yeah. I just hung them up today."

Amy bit her lip. "Did Fitz say anything about where my new office will be?"

Kingston shook his head, but he didn't drop her gaze or act like he was holding any information back. "Maybe you got a window?" He offered hopefully.

"Maybe," Amy muttered, heading for the door. "How'd you get an office, anyway? Promotion?"

Kingston smiled. "Yup. Account manager."

Amy felt some of her tension dissipate. _Thank God he didn't say partner!_ "Congratulations" she said, trying to mean it. She'd barely spoken with Kingston since he joined the team, other than offering him that warning that he would need to be focused on the work if he wanted to do well in New York, but he didn't seem like a bad guy. Even though Amy's intuition screamed that finding him in her office was a bad sign, she didn't want to take her fears out on him. _Whatever happens, he didn't cause it,_ she reminded herself as she slipped out of the office and went to find her boss.

The door to his corner office was closed, but Amy didn't bother knocking. She walked right in, past the concerned looking administrative assistant, and Fitz glanced up from his phone in surprise.

"I'll call you back," he said slowly, watching Amy as he hung up the phone.

She tightened her fists, but tried to speak calmly. "You gave Kingston my office."

Her boss gestured to a leather chair in front of his desk. "Why don't you sit down, Amy?"

_That can't be a good sign._ In all the years she'd worked for him, Amy had only ever heard Fitz call her by her last name, or if he was in a particularly crabby mood, _Ms. Savoy._ She sank into a seat opposite him, trying to prepare herself for what she was afraid was coming.

He leaned forward, steepling his fingers together and studying her, and Amy resisted the urge to smooth her hair or fidget with her shirt. Instead, she tried to meet his gaze, hoping she looked calm and collected. In reality, her stomach was threatening to revolt, and her heart was racing.

Amy forced herself to take a deep breath and start over. "I noticed that Kingston has a new office," she finally said, hoping her tone sounded neutral and not panicked.

Her boss nodded. "He's earned it with his work on the new accounts."

Amy leaned forward slightly. "And...where is my new office?"

Fitz didn't break eye contact. "Where do you think it should be?"

_Damn._ It was a trick she remembered her teachers using on her back in grade school; "What do you think your grade should be?" She forced a laugh. "I don't know. But I'm sure you'll tell me."

He sighed, but Amy thought she saw a glint of a smile in his eyes. "Amy, I don't really feel like you're heart's in the company anymore."

She shook her head automatically. "That's not true."

"First, your delay on those numbers that I asked for—"

"I was out of town for a wedding, you know that—"

He talked over her. "And then the past two days."

Amy felt desperate. "I told you, there was an emergency."

He raised an eyebrow. "You really expect me to believe that?"

She glared at him for a moment. "Yes, I do. I've been a loyal employee for nearly fifteen years," she said, her voice rising. "In all that time, I've barely ever taken any leave, and I'm usually the first one in the office and the last one to leave at night."

"I'm not disputing your previous performance. Lately, though, it's been like you're a new person. Instead of the loyalty and diligence you just cited, I've seen sloppy work, tardiness, and now, a blatant disregard for the schedule and policies of this office."

Amy's jaw dropped. "I left a message yesterday explaining why I wasn't here."

"Yes. A 'family emergency', as I recall. But what I don't recall is you ever mentioning any family who might be of concern."

She stared at him, dumfounded. "So I'm damned if I do, damned if I don't, is that it?"

"Excuse me?"

"A few days ago, you implied that I wouldn't be able to keep up if, God forbid, I actually thought about starting a family, but now you're saying I'm not allowed to miss work to care for that same family."

He smirked at her. "Did you adopt a child in the last month that I'm not aware of?"

"No," she said, pushing back from the chair, "but that's not the only kind of family a person can have." The memory of Sharlene crumpled up on her bathroom floor pushed into her mind, and Amy swallowed a sob. "Believe me when I say that the situation yesterday was an emergency."

"Be that as it may, I'm just not confident that you're what this company needs anymore."

She stared at him for a moment until her anger finally boiled over. "Fuck this company, and fuck this job." She whirled away from the desk, but paused at the office door with her hand on the handle. "And fuck you, Mr. Fitz, you misogynistic asshole!"

She slammed the door behind her, and the paneling on either side of it shook angrily. Glancing around to see if anyone had noticed the scene, Amy suddenly realized she didn't care. "For the record," she called to the studiously silent cubicles surrounding her, "I quit." Marching through the office, Amy kept her eyes straight ahead until she made it to the elevators, but when the doors slid shut behind her, she sagged against the rear wall and pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. _What the hell am I going to do now?_

She had enough money in the bank that she wasn't worried about paying her bills, at least not immediately, but the sheer weight of what she'd done threatened to crush her. "I'll never get another job in _this_ industry again," she said to the empty elevator, replaying her dramatic exit in her mind. But then Amy paused. _Is that even what I want?_ She didn't have a quick answer to that question, and that disconcerted her more than the fact that she was suddenly unemployed; ever since Amy had landed her first job at the bank, she'd been sure that she wanted the stability it promised, but now she wondered if she'd ever wanted it, or only convinced herself to want it.

A memory of Sharlene and Jeremiah swaying around the dance floor at their wedding flashed into her mind, and as Amy walked out of the office building, she wondered if, after all this time, she wanted something as conventional as a wedding and a man to grow old with. When she got to the parking garage, she was still pondering, and as Amy sat behind the wheel of her BMW, she started to cry.

She'd spent so many years trying to hammer herself into the corporate mold; her clothes, her hair, even her demeanor had all been carefully constructed to advance her chances for success at work. What social life she'd had had consisted of vapid, empty friendships and boring happy hours, until Sharlene had gotten back in touch, and the men she'd dated had been even worse. For years, she hadn't even touched her art supplies; she'd worried that the corporate world wouldn't take her seriously enough if she indulged in her need to create. And then, once she'd been inevitably drawn back to jewelry making, she'd kept it a secret, pretending it was just a hobby even as she sold more and more of her pieces online.

Glancing up at the rearview mirror, Amy wiped her tears. "No more," she told her reflection firmly. "No more hiding in that corporate tower. No more pretending not to want the things I want." The words were insanely liberating, and as she stopped crying, Amy leaned back in the driver's seat, thinking. _What do I want?_ Almost as soon as she thought it, an answer drifted through her mind. _A change_. Amy nodded slowly, turning the key in the ignition and heading out of the parking garage. "It's time for a change," she said, pulling into traffic. Almost on autopilot, she headed across the city, retracing the route she'd walked with Sharlene days—a lifetime—ago.

### CHAPTER TWENTY

The manager and another man in a crisp suit were waiting for Sean before he went on that night.

"Son, this is Mr. Delgado," the manager said, indicating his companion, who held out a hand to Sean. Sean grasped it with a smile. "He owns Haven, and a couple of other clubs in the city."

Sean tried to keep his heart from racing. "Nice to meet you," he said.

Mr. Delgado nodded. "You, too. Ben tells me you're a pretty fine cover artist."

Sean nodded. "I have fun," he said honestly. "And I liked playing here last night."

"He's good, Richie, just wait and see." The manager gave Sean a meaningful look, and Sean nodded slightly. _So this is round two of the audition,_ he thought as he felt both their eyes on him as he headed to the stage.

He played better than he had in a long time, and if the reactions of the people in the bar were any indicator, Sean knew he'd nailed it. Whether he was what Mr. Delgado was looking for or not was another story, but halfway through his set, Sean stopped caring about the audition. He'd noticed a familiar face at the bar, and from the moment he locked eyes with Amy, he wasn't playing the gig for Ben or Richie anymore; he was playing it for her.

When he finished, he barely heard what the manager said, but he nodded and smiled, agreeing to a long-term contract on the spot all while watching Amy standing near the bar. She was shifting nervously from foot to foot, and it gave Sean a jolt to think that she was just as nervous to see him as he was to see her. Finally, he and Ben shook hands, and he was free to head across the room to Amy. He had no idea what he was going to say to her, but the sight of her was enough to set his pulse racing, and he crossed the club with determination, his heart in his throat.

### CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

The salon in Nolita was the last place Amy usually would have gone, but she took it as a good sign that she found a miraculous parking space just a block away. Trying to ignore the feeling in her stomach that screamed that she was out of place in such a funky, hip establishment, Amy gave her name to the receptionist and sat down. She perched on the edge of the pink plastic chair, too wound up to pick up a magazine, but she didn't have to wait long.

A stylist with blue-tipped hair and more piercings than she could count beckoned to her, and she followed him to a salon chair near the back of the store.

He grinned at her in the mirror as he clipped the black cape around her neck. "I'm Carl. What are you thinking about today?"

Amy hesitated, then reached back and undid her mass of hair. Blond waves cascaded over her back, stopping just shy of her shoulder blades, and the stylist whistled.

"Dang, girl, you've got fairy princess locks!" Picking up a section of hair, Carl let it run through his fingers like water. "That's got to be high-maintenance."

Amy nodded. "I need a change," she said, repeating her earlier mantra to him, and Carl smiled.

"We can do that. How much of a change?"

She met his friendly gaze in the mirror. "Well," she began, "I just quit my job today."

Carl whistled. "Okay, so we're talking big change. Got it. Anything in mind?"

Amy paused, considering her reflection, but then she shook her head. "Surprise me."

The stylist's grin stretched even wider. "Oh, honey, I love when people say that!"

***

Six hours, three colors, and two shampoos later, Amy gave Carl a huge tip, paid her even larger bill with a grin, and strode out into the city. _It's amazing the difference a haircut makes,_ she thought as she headed to her car. _Well, that and suddenly being unemployed._

Checking her reflection in the tinted windows of her BMW, Amy smiled at herself. Her hair brushed her jawline now, instead of her shoulder blades, and Carl had expertly cut in layers framing her face. Her favorite part, however, were the flashes of color: deep purple streaks faded gradually to pink at the tips and peeked out from the bottom layer of her hair, and the color reminded Amy of a brilliant sunset. _I could never get away with a look like this at the office,_ she thought, driving back across the city with an exuberant smile.

She'd heard about people who lost their jobs and went into shock, not really processing the dramatic change in their circumstances for days, maybe even months, but something told her she wasn't going to be like that. The shock had hit as soon as she'd told her boss to fuck off, and she was surprised at how much lighter she felt.

_Now that I've got all this time on my hands, maybe I should check out Sean's gig tonight._ The thought made her pulse jump with anticipation, but something heavy settled in her stomach at the same time. Amy couldn't identify the feeling, though, so she pushed it to one side when she got back to her apartment and concentrated on getting ready.

It took longer than it should have; every stitch of clothing in her apartment screamed "investment banker", and there was nothing that she thought would look remotely right for a casual night out on the town. Finally, she settled on the gray skirt from her favorite suit and an old pink tank top she sometimes wore to the gym. Once she'd slipped the pendant she'd made around her neck and put on her leather jacket and black high-heeled boots, Amy thought she almost looked hip. _At least I don't look like I belong in a board room anymore,_ she thought, tucking a strand of pink hair behind her ear as she checked out her reflection. The hair was going to take some getting used to; it had been years since Amy wore it down regularly, but she couldn't deny it looked better that way.

Grabbing a clutch and tossing her keys and phone in it, Amy headed across Manhattan to The Haven.

***

Far from being a dive like she'd expected, The Haven was actually a pretty upscale club. Amy paid the cover charge without complaint and slipped into a seat at the bar. She could see the empty stage easily from her perch, the microphone stand waiting patiently, and Amy felt a thrill of anticipation course through her.

"Excuse me." A male voice interrupted her thoughts, and Amy swung her eyes to the guy standing beside her, taking in his faded T-shirt and torn jeans in a glance. "Can I buy you a drink?"

Amy couldn't help the giggle that escaped her lips. "Does anybody still say that?"

The guy grinned. "All evidence points to yes."

She shook her head, but she was still smiling. "No, thanks," she said. "I'm just here for the music."

The guy didn't push it, but he'd reminded Amy of one of the bar-hopping rules from her college days: always buy a drink yourself if you wanted to avoid cheesy pickup lines. She ordered a strawberry margarita, even though it had been years since she'd had something so pink, and no one tried to hit on her again once the drink was in front of her. _I guess I'm just in a pink mood all of a sudden,_ she thought with a giggle, glancing around the bar. The man's attention had been flattering, but he wasn't the one Amy wanted to notice her that night.

She nursed her drink until Sean finally came on stage, and then she focused all her energy on him. He was just as gorgeous as she'd remembered; those tight jeans, the half-smile that appeared on his face when he really got into the music, and those long fingers of his confidently stroking the guitar for song after song. With a shiver, Amy recalled the feeling of those fingers against her skin, and she felt her cheeks heating up as she stared at Sean.

There were a couple of younger women crowded around the stage when the set finally finished, and Amy hung back, wondering if Sean might not be happy to see her. But he spotted her across the crowd and gave her a broad smile. Amy fought the urge to fiddle with her hair as Sean made his way to her side.

"New look," he said, scanning her from head to toe before meeting her eyes. "I like it."

"I didn't do it for you," she said, the words sounding sharper than she'd intended. Amy exhaled. "Sorry. I mean, thank you."

He reached for her hand, but then he paused. "You seem a bit off tonight."

She shrugged, thinking about everything that had happened in the past forty-eight hours. "It's been a big week, I guess." _What would he say if I told him about my job?_

Sean grinned. "For me, too. Guess what I did before the show?"

Amy couldn't even begin to imagine, and finally she turned her palms up. "No clue. What?"

"Signed a contract to play here every weekend."

Her heart started to race as the words sank in. "So...you'll be coming back?"

Sean nodded, taking a step closer to her. "You might even say I'll be a regular," he said softly, looking for all the world like he was about to kiss her.

To her surprise, Amy stopped him. Deliberately, she put her hand against his chest, applying gentle pressure. "I don't think I want to be a once-in-awhile kind of girl."

He studied her face. "You don't?"

She shook her head as she realized what had been holding her back since running into Sean the other day in the elevator. "No. What we had at the wedding—" she hesitated. "Well, what we almost had...it looked like it was going to be a really good thing."

"There's no reason we still can't have that," he murmured sultrily.

Sean's crooked smile nearly made her change her mind, but she kept talking. "The thing is," she said, forcing herself to look into his gorgeous eyes, "a lot has happened for me since then."

His smile slipped, and he leaned back. "There's somebody else?"

Amy shook her head. "No, and I don't want there to be." Steeling her courage, she admitted, "I think I'm ready for something real, not just a fling."

Sean frowned. "I'm no good at real," he finally said.

Amy shook her head sadly. "I'm sorry. That's what I want."

"And if I can't promise anything?"

She sighed. "Then I guess that's it."

He was silent for a moment, looking around the crowded club, his expression blank. _I'd kill to know what he's thinking,_ Amy thought, studying his features.

When he finally spoke, his words surprised her. "You might still come to the gigs, right? It'd be nice to have a friendly face in the crowd."

Amy tipped her head toward the stage, where two of the girls who'd been flirting with him before were lingering, watching them. "I don't think you'll miss me," she finally said, trying to ignore the heaviness that wrapped around her heart as she realized that, whether he thought about her or not, she was going to miss him.

### CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Sean started paying Eric a chunk of his earnings every weekend for the privilege of crashing on his couch, but he didn't see Amy again. He told himself to let it go, to stop obsessing about the fling that never was, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he needed her in his life.

During the week, he stayed in Vermont, helping Roxy out occasionally and hanging with his buddies, but as time went by, he realized his heart was in New York. He'd stopped playing at The Desert as soon as he got the contract at Haven, but he'd kept his job delivering subs in an effort to save up enough for a down payment on his own place in the city. He was getting sick of rooming with Eric, and even though Amy had made it perfectly clear that she was done with him the last time he saw her, he couldn't help but wonder if they might have a second chance. _But no way I'm bringing here back to this dump_ , he thought one Sunday morning as he tossed his clothes into his backpack and got ready to head back to Vermont. Sean snorted derisively. _Real classy; want to come over and make out on my roommate's couch?_

It was probably a waste of brain cells to keep thinking about Amy, but he couldn't help himself, and soon he started tinkering with a new song. After that first night at The Haven, he'd been writing music on the sly, and it seemed like he was never short on inspiration. Sean wasn't sure when—or if—he'd be ready to play any of his songs for an audience, but that didn't seem to stop the lyrics from pouring out of him.

But the song about Amy was different. He labored over it, choosing every word, every chord with care. When it was finally done, Sean knew it was the best thing he'd ever written, but he couldn't get excited. _What good does it do if I never have the chance to play it for her?_

Even though it was totally not his style to ask for help, Sean had finally broke down and asked Sharlene for advice. Haltingly, he'd admitted that he was hung up on Amy.

She hadn't laughed at him. "Sean, I know you're a good guy, but I don't know what to tell you." She paused, and Sean could tell she was choosing her words carefully. "We're close, but she doesn't tell me a lot about her personal life."

"You think there's someone else?"

"I'm not sure. I just know she's been really happy lately."

Sean's spirits fell, but he wasn't ready to give up. "Find out, would you?"

"Since when do you need help getting the girl?" Sharlene raised an eyebrow.

"Since now."

Sharlene studied his face. "I think you really mean it," she said slowly. "This isn't just your flavor of the month?"

Sean shook his head. "I almost can't believe it myself, but I can't stop thinking about her."

Sharlene gave him a slow smile. "I'll see what I can do."

Sean tried not to get his hopes up, but Sharlene's promise echoed in his ears, and he found himself writing even more songs with renewed vigor as he dreamed about a certain blond more and more.

### CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Summer turned to fall, and Amy still didn't regret most of what had happened. Sure, she was getting ready to look for a cheaper apartment, since she couldn't afford to stay where she was much longer without dipping into her savings, but she felt optimistic about a few of the places she'd seen, and besides, she loved what she was doing now so much more than she'd ever loved her work on Wall Street. She may not have been making money yet, but she was finally, finally, making art again.

As soon as she'd told Sharlene about quitting, Amy had actually let her friend talk her into loading up her car and bringing some jewelry up to Vermont for a craft sale in September. She'd spent a few months in a flurry, making new pieces and brainstorming matching accessories for the ones she'd already made, and by the time the sale rolled around, Amy had more jewelry than she knew what to do with. _If nobody buys any this weekend, at least I'll have a bunch ready to list online,_ she thought as she drove north.

Despite her earlier embarrassment, she'd decided to stay at the Pine Tree Inn again, and she gave Roxy a friendly smile as she checked in.

"It's good to see you again!" The woman grinned at her. "No hard feelings about last time, I hope?"

Amy shook her head. "It's all in the past," she said, even though she still felt a twinge in her chest whenever she thought of Sean and what they'd almost had.

Roxy handed her a key with a wide smile. "Glad to hear you say that. I was worried when you lit out of here so fast."

Shrugging, Amy reached for the key. "I was a bit wound up this spring. I'm working on unwinding now though," she said, pointing to a chunk of her pink hair with a smile.

"It looks good like that." Roxy studied her face. "And I think you're happier than you were the last time I saw you."

Amy grinned. "Definitely." Shifting gears, she glanced around the lobby. "Sharlene didn't tell me where the craft fair will be."

Roxy's eyes glinted with amusement. "Where else? My barn, of course."

"Of course!" Amy laughed, and she was still chuckling when she made it up to her room with her suitcase. Roxy hadn't put her in the same one as before, and Amy inspected the new room. Two windows looked down on the lake behind the inn, but the beautiful view was a little spoiled when she thought about walking beside the water with Sean. She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. _It's not even likely he'll be around for this,_ she told herself firmly. _He's probably off somewhere on a gig._ She hadn't wanted to ask Sharlene and risk another setup, but in her heart, Amy secretly hoped that Sean would make an appearance at the craft sale.

He didn't, but by the end of the day on Saturday, Amy was too happy and exhausted to really mind. Much to her surprise, she'd sold out of the earrings she brought, and most of the pendants were gone, as well. Sharlene came by her booth to help her pack up, but Amy just laughed and spread her hand at the meager selection she had left.

"This won't take me very long at all," she said, grinning at her friend. "I still can't believe people wanted my stuff."

Sharlene shook her head. "When are you going to get it through that thick skull of yours that you've got real talent?"

Amy shrugged, but she didn't deflect the compliment the way she used to. "Thank you. And thank you for badgering me into doing this; I didn't realize how much fun I'd have."

Her friend reached forward and gave her a quick hug. "I'm glad. But I'll admit, my motives were selfish; I wanted to get you back up here so we could have a girls' night."

Although Amy really just wanted to spend time with Sharlene, she didn't want to offend her by asking if the other women would be there. "I'd like that. You're sure Jeremiah won't mind?"

"Are you kidding?" Sharlene looped her arm through Amy's. "He knows I've been waiting for a chance to see you."

Amy grinned. "Did you want to go to The Desert again?"

Sharlene smiled. "Where else?"

Amy wasn't surprised when she got to the bar and found Carol, Joanne, and Roxy clustered around a table in the corner, but she _was_ surprised to realize she didn't actually mind. She smiled and headed over, hoping nobody brought up the whole stupid bet thing.

Joanne slid out a chair for her. "It's good to see you again!"

"You, too," Amy said, glancing around at the group. "Where's Sharlene?"

"She said she had something to pick up, but she'd be along shortly." Roxy grinned at her.

Amy nodded, and her eyes slid toward the stage. "Is," she cleared her throat, "is there music tonight?"

Carol started to say something, but Joanne shot her a look that Amy couldn't decipher. "Not on the schedule," Roxy said smoothly.

Amy eyed them all nervously. _That was strange._ Still, even though she was friendly with them, she didn't feel like she knew any of the women well enough to press for details, so she made small talk, keeping one eye on the door for Sharlene while occasionally checking the stage in case Sean appeared.

Finally, Sharlene breezed through the doors, carrying a big white bakery box. She smiled and headed straight for the table, setting the box down with a flourish. "I brought treats," she said, still grinning. "Figured no one would object to something sweet."

Carol reached for the box, but Sharlene swatted her hand away. "Let's grab our drinks first. This round's on me."

Before Amy or anyone else could protest, she'd headed up to the bar, and in no time, she was back, carrying a tray loaded with cheap plastic champagne flutes.

Roxy whistled. "What are we celebrating?"

Sharlene smiled and lifted her glass. "The fact that I won't be drinking anything harder than apple juice for a long time."

The women stared at her for a moment, but realization seemed to dawn on them simultaneously. "Oh, my God," Carol cried, jumping out of her chair to hug Sharlene. "You're serious?"

Sharlene beamed. "Ten weeks, and going strong."

Roxy threw open the bakery box and laughed. "Pink and blue cupcakes." She raised an eyebrow at Sharlene. "Do you have any guess?"

Sharlene's hand strayed to her still-flat stomach. "Healthy," she said firmly. "That's all I want."

Tears welled up in Amy's eyes, and she stood up to embrace her friend. "I'm so, so happy for you," she whispered.

Sharlene squeezed her. "Me, too." When she pulled back, her eyes were glistening. Amy sniffled, about to lose control of her emotions, but Sharlene shook her head. "Drink up," she said to the table, "and you damn well better enjoy that champagne for me!"

Carol giggled, and the women clinked glasses. Amy looked around at their smiling faces, and warmth settled into her chest. _It's been too long since I had friends,_ she thought, sipping the champagne and grabbing a pink cupcake. _How did I not remember what I was missing?_

They'd nearly polished off the cupcakes when the sound of a guitar filled the bar, and Amy spun around in time to see Sean take the stage. She glanced at Roxy and raised her eyebrow.

"I thought he wasn't playing tonight."

Roxy just grinned at her and shrugged. "I'm not his manager!"

Amy glanced around the table, and the other women were all watching her with looks of anticipation. "What?" She finally asked, forcing herself not to look over her shoulder at Sean again.

Before they could speak, Sean's voice reached her, and she couldn't help it; she turned around. "Tonight," he said into the microphone, "I hope you'll humor me. I want to try something a little different." Without further preamble, he started playing sweet, melancholy chords, strumming the guitar with his eyes closed.

Amy didn't recognize the song, but she found herself listening intently to the lyrics as she stared at Sean, wondering what it was about him that continued to draw her eye.

"Thought I found a girl for a weekend, a fling," Sean crooned softly. "A girl for a little fun and no strings."

Amy pulled her eyes away from the stage. "What's the song?"

"Shh!" Carol almost squealed. "You're not listening."

Amy glanced at Sharlene, but her friend just tipped her head back toward the stage with a secret smile, and Amy turned around in her seat.

"Couldn't see what a beautiful thing I had, but I'm usually blind. No matter what I did, couldn't get her out of my mind."

Amy bit her lip, mesmerized by Sean's words.

"But she's more than a sometimes girl, more than once in a while." Sean opened his eyes, and his gaze locked on Amy. "I want to be the million reasons that make her smile," he sang, a grin slipping onto his face. He reached over and unplugged the guitar from his amp, and then he strolled off the stage, still strumming as he headed straight for Amy.

Her heart was racing, and she replayed the lyrics in her mind as Sean got closer to her. _He couldn't be talking about me,_ she thought, shifting nervously in her chair. _Besides, Joanne said he never writes his own songs anymore._

Sean stopped in front of her, looking like the hottest wandering troubadour Amy could imagine, and, deliberately, he sang the next lines as he stared at her. "I thought I missed my chance, wasn't looking for romance, but girl, you got under my skin and into my heart."

Amy licked her lips nervously, but she couldn't take her eyes off of him, and Sean leaned closer.

"I'm ready if you are to make a fresh start. And I'm not just talking about a weekend kind of fling," he sang, his blue eyes nailing her to the spot. "I'm finally ready for the real thing."

Breathless, Amy stared into his face. _This can't be happening; things like this don't happen in real life!_ Sean stopped playing and lifted his guitar over his head, handing it to Roxy without breaking eye contact with Amy.

"So," he said, his lips quirking up into a slow smile, "what did you think of the song?"

Amy finally remembered how to speak. "Beautiful." She paused, but she had to be sure. "You wrote it?"

He nodded. "For you."

Her heart melted, and all of her fears fell away. With a big grin, she jumped up, nearly knocking her chair over, and threw her arms around Sean's neck.

His smile stretched wider. "I'm a man of words, Ames," he said in a husky voice. "What are you trying to tell me?"

She laughed. "Shut up and kiss me already."

He wrapped his hands around her waist and pulled her against his body, and Amy felt a shiver of anticipation course through her. Tightening her hands around his neck, she brought his face closer with a broad smile.

When his lips met hers, the bar suddenly erupted into applause, and she didn't even care. _Let them stare,_ she thought, kissing Sean hungrily. _They might as well see what about damn time looks like!_

Dear Reader,

I've always been a bit obsessed with fairy tales, and I'm having so much fun coming up with new ways to imagine the magic of some of my favorite stories with the _Once Upon a Desire_ series. There are some amazing variations on "Rapunzel" out there, even including one where being locked away in a tower isn't enough: the witch actually turns the princess into a frog in order to keep her away from men!

If you enjoyed Sean and Amy's story, I hope you'll consider leaving a review of _Cut Loose_ at your favorite eBook retailer. Your feedback is important to me, and your thoughts might help other readers who are thinking about starting this series. If you've got a chance, visit my website to learn more about the series, and my other books.

There are plenty of fairy tales that inspire me, and I've included a sneak peek of the other books in the series, _Princess Suite_ and _Midnight Run,_ on the following pages. I hope you enjoy!

Here's to happily ever after!

Best,

Jen <3

Discover other titles in the Once Upon a Desire series by Jen McConnel:

### MIDNIGHT RUN

### CUT LOOSE

### PRINCESS SUITE

Once Upon a Time never felt like this...

"Cinderella" meets marathon training in this modern fairy tale!

Running, coffee, and New York City: Nora feels like she's got it all. But when this barista meets Kingston, a handsome Texan, she realizes the one thing she's been missing is love.

Kingston doesn't want to admit that he's looking for a fairy tale, and he sure didn't think he'd fall for two women. But what he doesn't know about his running buddy and the pretty barista might surprise him.

MIDNIGHT RUN is a contemporary romance inspired by Cinderella, and it's the first book in the Once Upon a Desire series.

### Ready for a sneak peek of another book in the

### _Once Upon a Desire_ series?

### MIDNIGHT RUN

### By Jen McConnel

### CHAPTER ONE

Sometimes, Nora felt like the only reason she bothered getting up in the morning was her daily run.

Cold mist swirled across the trail, making Central Park feel ghostly and foreign, and Nora's feet hit the ground with a rhythm as familiar as her heartbeat. She'd stopped running with music after her first 5k; the songs that had once pushed her to keep going when she didn't think she could take another step became superfluous as the runner's high took over. Now, the city provided her soundtrack, and her runs were almost meditative.

Somewhere across the park, a dog called out a greeting, but Nora couldn't see him. The dense fog still obscured her surroundings, making it seem as if she were running in a dream, and Nora wasn't sure how long the other runner had been following her until he pulled up alongside her.

She heard him before she saw him; the echo of footsteps that didn't quite match her own, and then, suddenly, a tall figure with jet black hair loomed up at her elbow.

She gave him a quick nod as he pulled alongside her, her brown ponytail bobbing with the motion, but the guy barely glanced in her direction. _Maybe he didn't notice me in the fog_ , Nora thought, fighting down the irritation that flared as the other jogger moved ahead without acknowledging her at all.

But the run had turned sour, and Nora was distracted as she finished her final loop around the park. By then, the fog had started to lift, and the air was sharp and smelled like snow. Drenched in cold sweat, Nora hurried through her cool-down and rushed to catch her train, glancing at the cloudy sky nervously. The sun had started to rise while she ran, but the buildings around her blocked it from view. It would be tight, but she should still have time to hit her apartment and shower before her shift. _And besides_ , she thought grimly, _it's not like anyone will notice if I'm a few minutes late._

***

She was wrong; they noticed. Books and Brew had been getting increasingly popular, and now that NYU was back in session, the coffee shop was slammed by the time Nora punched in, thirty minutes after her shift was supposed to start. Her manager, Todd, tugged on his moustache and glared at her pointedly as she took her place behind the register, and Laurel, one of the other baristas, rolled her eyes.

"Looks like the princess is late again," she announced to Caity, another girl behind the counter.

Caity snorted. "What's the matter, Nora? Did your morning run turn into a walk?"

Nora felt her cheeks heating up, but she tried to ignore the girls and their barbs. Self-consciously, she pushed her tortoiseshell glasses higher on her nose and tried to smile. She usually got along pretty well with everyone, but from the moment Laurel and Caity had been hired, it was almost like they had it out for her. Nora wasn't sure what she'd done to piss them off, but that didn't stop them from tormenting her.

Luckily, there wasn't enough down time for the girls to do more than snipe at her when she first came in, and Nora was soon up to her elbows in lattes and coffee grounds, juggling three orders at once all while trying not to slip on the old, cracked tile floor. The college kids liked Books and Brew because it had atmosphere; the mismatched walls gave off a funky vibe, and the broken ceramic tile that covered the floor, left over from a long dead business that had filled the space before the coffee shop existed, made everything feel a bit old-fashioned. Cleaning the cracked tiles, however, was hellish; coffee and spilled milk had a way of collecting along the grout lines, and the floor looked pretty disgusting at the end of each day. If Nora hadn't taken to scrubbing it on her hands on knees after the shop had closed every night, she was pretty sure the health inspector would have shut them down already.

When there was a break in the customers, Todd pulled her away from the counter. "Some kid tossed his cookies in the front corner," he said, jerking his thumb toward the offending spot. "Grab the mop and take care of it, would you?"

Nora bit her lip. "Shouldn't we let his parents clean it up?" _And isn't it, like, a biohazard?_

Todd rolled his eyes and ran his hands over his salt and pepper hair. "They'd left before I noticed. Chop, chop, Nora, get on it."

She cringed, but she nodded. With a tug, she tightened her ponytail before tackling the job, but the elastic band snapped and dropped to the floor. Her hair, which had still been wet from her shower when she headed to work, cascaded around her face in loose waves, and Nora reached for the spare elastic she always wore around her wrist. Her fingers only met skin, however, and Nora remembered with a sinking sensation that she'd been too late to grab a spare hair tie that morning.

Her eyes swung back to the counter, and for a moment, she debated asking one of the other girls if they could lend her one, but she dismissed that idea almost immediately. Grabbing the mop, a yellow "wet floor" sign, and a pair of elbow-length rubber gloves, Nora pushed her way through patrons to the pile of puke on the floor. Her stomach churned, and she glanced at the counter again, wondering if there was any way she could get out of it. Laurel caught her eye and smirked, and Nora sighed, tucking her hair behind her ears. There was no way anyone else would clean up the mess, especially not since Todd had specifically told her to do it, so she might as well stop dawdling.

Pulling the chairs out of the way, Nora slopped water over the floor, wrinkling her nose at the smell. She wasn't sure which was worse; the vomit, or the stale mop water. _I must have forgotten to empty the bucket last night,_ she chastised herself. _And of course nobody noticed._

Reaching under the table, Nora slid the mop back to the wall, hoping she could reach most of the mess. There wasn't really room to move the table out of the way, not during business hours, and Nora didn't relish crawling into any leftover vomit when she was finally able to give the shop a good cleaning that evening. Bending over to check under the table, she pulled the mop back and heard a startled "Oomph" from behind her.

As she whirled around to apologize to whoever she'd just hit, her foot skidded on the wet floor, and Nora flailed, her arms wind-milling as she started to fall. She gritted her teeth, anticipating the sharp pain that waited for her tailbone when she hit the floor, but it never came. Large, warm hands wrapped around her upper arms, pulling her upright with a jerk. Trying to ignore the pain in her shoulders, Nora looked up and caught her breath.

Her rescuer had to be one of the most gorgeous men she'd ever seen. _No, scratch that,_ she thought as her eyes took in his sinewy, powerful frame. _The_ most gorgeous. He towered over Nora, and his short dark hair and chiseled jaw made him look like he'd walked out of the pages of a magazine ad.

Gray eyes met hers, and the tan skin around them crinkled as the guy smiled. "Careful, hon. That floor's pretty slick."

Nora's heart fell out of her chest. He had a perfect southern drawl, like something out of a trashy soap opera, and his inky hair and deep tan completed the picture. For a moment, she wondered what he'd look like in a pair of tight jeans slung up with one of those wide, beefy belt buckles. She stared at him stupidly before she shook herself and forced a smile.

"Thanks; I was just mopping, and then I hit something—" she swallowed. "Did I hit you?"

He shrugged. "No harm done."

"Oh, gosh, I'm so sorry. Can I buy you a coffee or something to make it up to you? I swear, we don't usually put our customers in danger or anything," she babbled, pushing her glasses high on her nose nervously. She was aware of how ridiculous she sounded, but somehow unable to stop the flow of words. "I mean, whatever you want, just to say I'm sorry."

His smile stretched wider. "Back home, I'd be the one buying you coffee. But I guess that's New York for you!"

Embarrassed, Nora tried to backpedal. "Where's home?" She asked, plopping the mop back in the pail and watching his expressive face.

"Texas," he drawled, his accent even thicker when he said the word. "What about you? Seems like just about everyone I've met in New York is from somewhere else."

Before she could answer, a tall, chic blond slipped up to Tex's side and slid her arm around his waist with a quick glance at Nora.

"Sorry I'm late, sweetie," she purred, her perfectly made-up lips pouting sweetly. "I got held up in that meeting."

Shifting his attention away from Nora, the gorgeous guy gave the blond the same heart-stopping smile he'd offered to Nora. "No worries, darlin'." He glanced back in Nora's direction, his eyes bright. "Thanks for the chat, hon."

Nora nodded, her throat thick. "Any time. Um, be careful; the floor's wet."

The Texan laughed like she'd made a joke, and Nora flushed, remembering how'd he'd caught her. "Of course," he offered solemnly. Before he turned away again, he gave her a quick wink, and Nora's cheeks grew even hotter.

She watched as they walked toward the counter, the blond's black heels making her legs look even longer in her charcoal pencil skirt, and the Texan's tall, dark frame the perfect contrast to her leggy beauty. He didn't put his arm around her or anything, but the blond's territorial expression made it pretty clear that he was off limits. Nora sighed and dragged the mop and bucket back behind the counter.

From the back, she strained to listen, catching the Texan's slow drawl as he ordered drinks, but Nora didn't come around the counter to help. She dawdled with the mop, dumping out the murky water and refilling the bucket. By the time she came out front again, the Texan and his date had left, and Nora breathed a sigh that was half relief and half disappointment.

_He wouldn't have been interested in you, anyway,_ Nora thought crabbily as she looked down at her lean runner's body. _Guys like that want girls who know how to wear makeup and a pair of high heels and walk like they own the world._ Nora had never known how to pull that kind of confidence off; the only time she felt even remotely powerful was when her feet were pounding the pavement.

"Here," Laurel said, shoving a carafe full of milk at her and snapping Nora out of her thoughts. "The skim's out over there."

Distracted, Nora rounded the corner to the small busing station near the door, where napkins, sugar, and carafes of milk with careful chalk labels waited. She wiped it down before depositing the milk and grabbing the empty container, and she noticed that the cream was getting low, too. Picking that up, she headed back around the counter just as a girl with a huge laptop pushed her chair back, knocking into the cream and slopping it all over Nora. Nora bit back a curse, but the girl didn't even notice the mess as she began packing up her bag, and Nora shook her head, annoyed.

Once she'd washed her hands and wiped down the front of her apron as best she could, Nora took over the register so Laurel could take her smoke break. Her eyes checked the clock, and she exhaled loudly.

"Surely it's not that bad," a female voice said, and Nora whirled back to the register, her cheeks red, but then she sighed in relief.

Colleen was one of her regulars, but still, Nora tried not to complain to her customers about anything at work. Laurel and Caity seemed to have no such compunctions, but that didn't mean Nora felt comfortable bitching, even to someone as grandmotherly as Colleen with her immaculate silver hair and lovely blue eyes. Nora gave her a genuine smile and rang up the order without even asking. "How's your day so far, Colleen?"

The older woman shrugged gracefully. "Better than yours, it would seem." She studied Nora's face and smiled. "Although I do like the way you're wearing your hair today."

Nora's hand went for her neck, and she shook her head ruefully. "Hair tie broke, and I haven't had a chance to scrounge up another one."

"Still, it suits you far better than that runner's tail you always wear. Don't take this the wrong way, but for a moment, I didn't recognize you."" Colleen tucked a five in the tip jar as Nora turned away to start her dark chocolate double shot mocha.

Nora smoothed her hair away from her face with a smile. "I've never really been a fan of my hair," she admitted. "It feels weird to have it down."

"Weird can be good, and in this case, dear, I'd recommend that you get used to feeling weird. It's very becoming like this."

"Maybe." She handed Colleen her drink. "I hope the afternoon is good to you!"

"You, too, dear." The older woman waved before she headed for the door.

By the time they'd locked the doors behind the last customers, Nora was dead on her feet, but she still filled a bucket of soapy water and got down on her hands and knees, scrubbing the ancient grout lines while Laurel and Caity restocked for the next morning. Finally, she left the coffee shop well after the winter sun had set. _At least it isn't an all-night place_ , she thought as she glanced at the dark street. _Then I'd probably never make time to run._ As it was, she staggered home to the apartment she shared with her best friend in a haze, and by the time her head hit the pillow, Nora had almost convinced herself to skip her pre-dawn run the next day.

Almost, but not quite.

###

### MIDNIGHT RUN

### By Jen McConnel

Once Upon a Time never felt like this...  
_Pretty Woman_ meets "The Princess and the Pea" in this modern fairy tale.

With his million-dollar smile and a face that's been on hundreds of magazines, Carter Edwards is Hollywood's favorite leading man. But away from the cameras, Carter's reeling from a messy divorce, and he's grown disenchanted with the glamour of the movies. Desperate for a career reboot, he decides to try his hand at Broadway, but he isn't counting on meeting Lynne, a woman who can see right through his act.

Even though it's been years since her divorce prompted Lynne to get sober, she still feels like she can't let anybody get too close. But when her job throws Carter Edwards in her path, Lynne finds herself falling for the movie star, even as she tries to convince herself that her feelings can't be real.

PRINCESS SUITE is a contemporary romance inspired by The Princess and the Pea, and it's the third book in the Once Upon a Desire series.

Once Upon a Desire: contemporary fairy tales with a pinch of spice.

### Ready for a sneak peek of the next book in the

### _Once Upon a Desire_ series?

### PRINCESS SUITE

### By Jen McConnel

### CHAPTER ONE

Carter hated flying. There was something about being trapped inside a metal cylinder for hours, shooting over mountains, lakes, and other death traps just waiting to happen that terrified him.

But that didn't matter to his manager; Davis always insisted that he fly everywhere, even if it would have been possible to drive. California to New York really would have been a hellish road trip, though, so Carter kept his mouth shut and his hands clenched on the wide armrests in first class as he made his way to La Guardia.

He'd halfheartedly suggested getting a rental truck and driving his stuff to Manhattan himself, but Davis had dismissed the idea immediately.

"Oh, 'cause you'd do so well stopping at crappy little rest areas and posing with random families on vacation." The manager had shaken his head firmly. "No reason to bring everything with you yet, anyway; you don't want the press getting wind of it, right?"

"What's it going to matter if they know I'm moving to New York now, or in six months?"

"In six months, God willing, you'll have made such a splash on Broadway that everyone will expect you to move." Davis jabbed his chest. "If they knew you were moving now, not just passing through and playing on the stage for a bit of fun, how long do you think it would take for the vultures to start circling? Driving a moving truck across the country smells an awful lot like running away from Hollywood, Carter."

_But I am running away_ , Carter thought, staring out the window as the plane began its initial descent. He swallowed the rest of his complimentary whiskey and shut his eyes, trying to ignore the way his stomach lurched as the plane slowly lost altitude.

"Will there be anything else, sir?"

Carter opened one eye as the flight attendant leaned over him to collect his glass, her hand brushing deliberately against his arm as she pulled back. Maryanne or Marianne, she'd said her name was. He swallowed the bile in his throat and flashed her his million dollar smile. "I'm doing just fine," he said, slipping into the role of a happy, successful movie star with ease. "But you've been good to me." He winked at her, and she smiled at him sappily.

"I'm sure people ask you this all the time," she began, studying his face. "But—"

"Yup," Carter purred. "I'm him."

Her grin stretched wider. "I thought so. Oh, my gosh, my roommate is going to flip when I tell her. Can I, um, would it be awful of me to ask for your autograph?"

Carter reached over and plucked the pen from her apron pocket, and she flushed. With a flourish, he scrawled his name across the tiny napkin sitting on the tray table in front of him, and then he presented both the napkin and the pen to the woman like some knight errant offering a favor to his lady fair. _How many years has it been since I played a part like that? I didn't really like the tights, but I still remember all the moves,_ he thought as he smiled at the flight attendant.

She gushed her thanks and backed away toward the cockpit, and he ran a hand through his hair, wondering idly if the gray at his temples would make people treat him like a has-been. His manager had assured him that his hair was still an asset, but Carter wasn't entirely sure he believed him. Still, the flight attendant hadn't seemed to mind.

Carter risked another glance out the window. Buildings were looming dangerously close, and he reflexively shut his eyes again, dropping the comfortable mask he always wore with the fans. _At least she distracted me,_ he thought as the wheels finally ground down on the runway. _That wasn't as bad as it usually is._ Still, he drew in a shuddering breath before he got off the plane, but the minute he walked into the airport, he plastered his usual smile across his face. He wore it like some celebrities wore their sunglasses; his fan smile was his disguise, his armor, no matter what else was going on around him.

He hadn't been sure if there'd be any reporters at the airport or not, but he was seasoned enough to be ready for them at any moment. The only person who seemed to notice him, however, was his manager, checking his cell phone constantly and waiting at baggage claim. Davis had flown out the day before to get everything squared away for Carter's arrival, although Carter wished he would have had company on the flight instead. The only thing worse than flying was flying alone.

Davis slipped his phone into his pocket as Carter approached. "You made good time. Let's go."

"Where did you book me again?" Carter asked, grabbing his roller bag off the carousel and striding toward the exit.

"Regal Towers."

"Never heard of it."

Davis shrugged and pointed to the black car with tinted windows idling by the curb. "It was the only penthouse in your price range."

Carter winced. "I don't need a penthouse," he said as he handed his bag to the man who was waiting by the open trunk of the car.

"Yes you do. It's the look of the thing. Doesn't matter if the hotel is shabby or not; Carter Edwards is a big star, remember? And big stars stay in the penthouse."

Carter rolled his eyes. "Right. Hollywood stars," he reminded Davis. "Broadway nobodies barely make the rent."

Davis held the door for him, and then slid into the backseat after Carter. "Stop being so negative. New York is a great scene, and the perfect place for a career reboot. Look at what happened with Moyra."

Carter winced and looked out the window. "Thanks for the reminder." Talking about his ex was painful, especially after she'd left their failing marriage behind to become a hit on Broadway while his own career had floundered.

"Look, I'm just saying there are worse ways to cash in on your name. Or did you want me to look at some of those adult film offers?"

Carter glanced at the man, expecting a punchline, but Davis wore a serious expression. "No, thanks."

Davis looked disappointed. "They pay pretty well, if that's what you're worried about."

"No, Davis."

"Then Broadway it is."

Carter sank back into his seat with a sigh. "You don't suppose Moyra will think I'm just copying her?"

Davis shrugged. "So what? You didn't worry about that when you two were married. Why start now?"

_Because divorce makes you feel like you have to ask permission just to keep breathing,_ Carter thought, but he just shrugged at his manager. "Being silly, I guess."

"Yeah, you are. Stop worrying about Moyra, and focus on blowing everybody away at your auditions this week."

Carter nodded, trying to look confident, but he was dreading the auditions. _Reading for a part in front of a camera is one thing,_ he thought, staring out the window as the car made its way into the city. _But facing an auditorium full of people is something else entirely._

###

### PRINCESS SUITE

### By Jen McConnel

