

### Table of Contents

Midnight Run

### Cut Loose

### Princess Suite

### Copyright

### A Note from the Author

### More Titles from the Author

### MIDNIGHT RUN

### Once Upon a Desire

### 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.

### CHAPTER TWO

When Kingston moved to New York, he hadn't realized how long it would take him to adjust to the weather.

It got cold back in Texas, that was for sure, but it was the kind of cold that went along with a desert; sharp, clean, and fairly clear. The cold in Manhattan seemed to ooze out of the ground, seeping into the streets and buildings like the villain of some old b-movie. It made his lungs burn, no matter how carefully he dressed each morning for his run.

His breath hung in the air in front of him, a ghostly cloud in the early morning light, and Kingston shook his head. _Why the hell did I move here in the middle of winter? I didn't even have the good sense to get here in time for the New Year's shindig._

True, he'd had a choice; when the bank back in Fort Worth offered him a promotion, they also gave him the option to transfer to one of their other branches. Kingston knew it was juvenile, but something about New York City had always felt like a fairy tale to him, and he was giddy with anticipation when he realized that he could transfer there. So he picked Manhattan, but the bank decided when to send him.

_At least they let me have a holiday at home_ , he thought, veering around an early morning dog walker as he continued his run through Central Park. His mom had been teary when he'd announced his promotion, and she was still moping by Christmas dinner.

"Why did you have to pick somewhere so far away? You won't even be in the same time zone anymore, King." She'd said, spooning out far more mashed potatoes for him than was strictly necessary.

He'd leaned over to kiss her cheek. "It's not permanent, Ma. Just a chance for me to see what the fuss is about, that's all."

His father pointed his fork at him. "But permanent or not, you're not going to give it anything less than your all, right son?"

"Of course, sir." Kingston knew he was probably the only almost-thirty-year-old who addressed either of his parents so formally, but his father commanded respect. "I'll do the job right."

Now, three weeks after the move, Kingston still hadn't settled into a rhythm that seemed right for New York. He ran before the sun came up because that was what he'd been used to back home to escape the blistering heat of the day, but the frozen air didn't seem to force the same schedule on other runners, and he rarely saw anyone in the park. He missed running with a group; back home, he'd been a member of a handful of running clubs, but his favorite group were the Midnight Runners. There was no earthly reason to run at that hour, not even the heat, but Kingston had loved the diverse group of other nutty sports enthusiasts. _Maybe I should see if there's a club like that here._

His steps slowed, and he began his brisk cool down walk, but once he stopped running, the cold seeped through his clothes and into his bones, and Kingston gave an involuntary shiver. Cutting his walk short, he hurried back to his apartment a few blocks from the park. He knew the building was a prime location, if the price of his rent was any indication, but he hadn't rented it for prestige; the apartment was conveniently located to both his new job and the park, and since work and running were the only things on his agenda, and since he had a considerable chunk of change saved up after living at home through college and for all the years since, Kingston figured he was allowed to splurge a little bit on real estate. His mother would have fainted if she'd seen the price tag and the tiny studio that accompanied it, and his father would have shook his head and called him reckless, but Kingston didn't care.

He didn't plan on telling them, either.

### CHAPTER THREE

Nora got up with her alarm, despite the persistent ache across her shoulder blades leftover from a day at work, and laced up her running shoes. Her roommate, Carl, hadn't been home when she went to bed, and he was snoring when she tiptoed into the kitchen, but somehow, he'd still left a sticky note for her on the coffee pot.

"Kick butt, sweetheart." Nora grinned and slapped the sticky note on the back of her phone before she strapped it to her arm. Hurriedly, she scribbled her own note, wishing Carl a "rocking day", and then she headed out into the city. They'd been best friends since ninth grade, when Carl moved to Nora's small town and freaked everybody out with his pierced ears and flamboyant personality, and the sticky note tradition was almost as old as their friendship. Sometimes, if Carl was in a particularly nostalgic mood, Nora would find her morning note folded into a tiny paper football, like they used to fold and flick across their desks back in high school.

Living with Carl had certainly made New York more fun; before he broke up with his last boyfriend and moved in with her, Nora had had a string of awful roommates, people she'd only met because she'd put up flyers in the neighborhood. Still, awful or not, she'd managed to keep a steady stream of co-renters for the five years she'd lived in the city, and now that Carl was there, it was starting to feel more and more likely that she'd be able to stay in New York long-term.

She'd always loved the glitz and the glamor of the place, and even five years as a barista hadn't spoiled that for her. After all that time, she was making alarmingly good money at the coffee shop; Todd had a lot of turnover with the staff, but those who stayed more than a year were rewarded with big raises every few months and crappy health insurance.

_Running, coffee, and the city_ , Nora thought with a smile as she started her run. _What more does a girl need?_ True, with her crazy schedule, it had gotten harder and harder to keep up with her folks back home in Pennsylvania, but everything had seemed fine when she was home for Christmas the previous month. Still, Nora made a mental note to try and give her mom a call sometime that weekend.

As her feet pounded the dark asphalt, Nora's mind wandered, and her six-mile loop of the park flew by. _I really need to start running the park twice_ , Nora thought as she checked the time on her phone and headed back across town to get ready for work. _That would almost be a half marathon._

Back at the apartment, she took her contacts out carefully before stepping into the shower. Even though she had the kind that could be worn all day, even to bed, Nora always wore her glasses for work; getting a coffee ground stuck under her left contact years ago had been lesson enough for her. Now she only wore her contacts for running.

Stripping off her sweaty clothes, Nora jumped into the shower, relishing the feel of the hot water against her cold skin. Running in the winter was rough, but not as bad as running in the summer; at least her body temperature had a chance to equalize in the winter, instead of staying feverish all day long. Nora wanted to linger under the spray, but she wasn't ready to risk another late entrance at Books and Brew, so she skipped conditioning her hair and rinsed off as fast as she could.

The mirror hadn't even had a chance to steam up by the time Nora was finished, and she studied her face for a moment. High, pale cheekbones framed her hazel eyes, and Nora grimaced. She'd always hated how bland she looked; brown hair, brownish eyes, and pale lips that didn't look right with any color of lipstick, no matter how many times she let the women at the makeup counter in the mall back home do her colors. Remembering what Colleen had said, Nora didn't slick her hair back right away. Watching her face in the mirror, she cautiously scrunched up the ends of her toffee colored hair, and light, bouncy waves hung around her face, stopping just above her shoulders. She shrugged. _Might as well try something different for a change._ Carl had been after her to color her hair, but Nora was never sure she could pull off any of the bold looks he suggested.

"Plain little bird," she muttered as she got dressed and grabbed her bag. Gran had always said that about her, and Nora had never worked up the courage to tell her how much it hurt.

When she made it across town, Books and Brew was hopping, but this time, Nora wasn't late. Todd scheduled her long shifts, but he hadn't made her open since she told him about running; if she'd had to get to the coffee shop before five, she could kiss her runs goodbye.

Laurel was making drinks when Nora got there, but Caity wasn't in site.

"Morning, Laurel," Nora said quietly as she tied on her apron and headed to the register.

Laurel grunted. "I guess."

Nora decided to try to be friendly. "Did you have a late night?"

Laurel nodded, brushing her dark, asymmetrical bangs off her forehead. "Yeah," she glanced cautiously at Nora. "There was a rave out in Brooklyn." She dropped her voice conspiratorially. "Didn't make it home wearing my own panties, if you know what I mean."

Nora almost grimaced at the image, but she forced herself to nod sympathetically. "Um, yeah, I've had nights like that." The closest she'd ever been to a rave was a movie she saw last summer, and she didn't even want to think about whatever Laurel meant by the underwear comment, but she wasn't about to admit that, especially not when Laurel was being almost civil to her. "Do you need some aspirin or something?"

Laurel snorted. "Just need to get through this shift." She handed a customer his latte and looked at Nora over her shoulder. "Are you going to take his order?"

"What?" Nora spun around, her cheeks instantly hot. She'd been so fixated on trying to make nice with Laurel that she hadn't heard the customer who'd been standing there waiting. Her eyes locked on his tan face, and Nora cringed, thinking about the underwear exchange. How long had he been there?

Tex's face lit up. "It's you again, hon. Nice to bump into you."

Nora's skin started to tingle under his gaze. "You, too," she finally managed to say.

He leaned on the counter, his eyes skimming her face before coming to rest on the menu board beside her. "So," he drawled, "what's good here?"

"Um, I don't know," she stuttered, "I mean, everything is pretty good. As long as you like caffeine." _Oh my gosh, what's wrong with me?_ "The coffee is great," she finished lamely, trying to figure out why her brain seemed to have deserted her.

Gunmetal gray eyes met hers, and Nora caught her breath for a moment. "I guess I'll just have a coffee," he said with a smile that nearly sent Nora into cardiac arrest.

Flustered, she reached for the cups stacked neatly beside the register, but Laurel beat her to it. Filling the Styrofoam quickly, she reached over Nora to hand it to the Texan. "On the house, handsome," she said, dropping her voice and giving him a slow, sultry smile. Nora bit her lip; she could barely form complete sentences around the guy, but Laurel was acting like they'd hooked up. _Why can't I be that confident?_ Disheartened, she started to move away from the register, but the Texan's voice stopped her.

"Thanks, hon. I hope I'll see you again soon."

Nora looked up, but he'd already turned away, and any hope that he'd been talking to her was shattered when Laurel said, "Oh, you can count on it."

Desperate to find something to distract her, Nora hurried into the back to restock the pastry case, but her mind spun in circles. Why couldn't she flirt as effortlessly as Laurel? True, she'd gone on a few dates since moving to the city, but they never ended well; she never felt like she could open up to any of the men she'd dated, and after a few failed attempts to invite her back to their apartments, they usually lost interest and drifted away. It wasn't that she wasn't interested, exactly, but maybe part of her was still looking for that illusive fairy tale spark that she'd grown up longing for. _And there's no reason to think a random Texan will do it for you, either_ , she chastised herself. It was ridiculous for her to be getting moony-eyed over a complete stranger.

Someone tapped her on the shoulder, and she almost dropped the tray of muffins and croissants she was holding.

Todd frowned at her. "Why are you so jumpy this morning?"

She shrugged, trying to slow her heart. "Just tired, I guess."

"Well, that's no good." He looked up at the front counter. "Can you stop what you're doing for a minute? I'd like to talk to you."

Obediently, Nora set the tray down on the counter and followed Todd to his broom closet office, where he perched on the edge of his desk and gestured to a rickety wooden chair. Nora sat down gingerly. "What did you need?"

"You," the old man said bluntly. "I'm hiring a new assistant manager."

She couldn't have heard him right. "I didn't realize Shari was gone."

Todd shook his head without answering. "You're a good employee, Nora, and you've been here longer than almost anybody else. The position is yours for the taking, if you want it."

Nora stared at him, openmouthed. "Seriously?"

"Yup. You could start training as early as Monday. It's a five percent raise on your current hourly, plus a crummy little 401K package." Todd smiled at her, his silver mustache turning up comically. "What do you say?"

Although she was jumping for joy, Nora didn't want to make a rash decision. "What would the hours look like?"

Todd rubbed the back of his neck. "I sort of wish you hadn't asked. You'll have split shifts to start, opening and closing the store five days a week." He looked down at his desk and carefully shuffled a stack of papers, not making eye contact with Nora.

She deflated. "But what about my running?"

"I know, I know, but just think; a real income, kiddo. This kind of job doesn't come along that often, especially not in the coffee industry."

_He's right._ Still, Nora hesitated. "Can I have a day or two to think it over?"

Todd nodded. "Of course. Take your time, but if you could give me a decision before the weekend; if you don't want it, I'll need to pull the old applications file and see if anyone is still interested."

"What about Laurel or Caity?" The words slipped out before she could think, and Nora cringed. Did she really want Todd to offer the job to either of them? _I'm practically throwing myself under a bus! They already have it out for me; how much worse would it be if either of them was a manager?_

Todd shook his head immediately. "Not as good with the customers as you are, kiddo, not to mention the rest of the staff. It takes a certain kind of person to be a good manager. You have to make nice with the customers while still turning a profit, and you have to be friendly with your staff without letting them think you're buddies. It's a fine line to walk, and I think you'd be a natural."

Glowing from his praise, Nora smiled, even though she still wasn't sure she wanted to take the job. "I'll let you know as soon as I've decided."

Todd nodded. "Do that. But remember, Nora this isn't the kind of offer that comes around every day." He smiled at her. "I hope you'll decide to take it."

She nodded as she headed back to work. "I'll think about it," she promised.

### CHAPTER FOUR

Kingston wanted to linger at the coffee shop and watch the cute girl behind the counter, but he didn't think he could be away from the office for very long. _At least this time no one asked me to bring coffee back for them._ He didn't mind being polite and looking out for his coworkers, but it wasn't hard to see that the coffee requests during his first few days on the job had been a subtle power play from the other men in the office; Kingston sensed that they were quietly putting him in his place, letting him know that, even if he'd been a mover and a shaker at the branch back home, here in the city he was still the new kid, no better than an intern in their eyes.

Despite the office politics waiting for him as he hurried back to the skyscraper with blue reflective windows, he couldn't keep his thoughts away from the girl. She'd charmed him to pieces the first time they'd met with her big brown eyes and sweet smile, and he'd been more than a little annoyed that Carrie had shown up when she did.

He pushed through the chrome and glass revolving door and strode across the lobby to the elevator. When he'd first transferred, he'd planned on taking the stairs every day as part of his half marathon training, but thirteen flights got old real fast. _Still, I should add stairs to my regimen; maybe I should ask the group for suggestions?_ He'd finally joined a midnight runner's group, and it hadn't taken long before he felt right at home with the other runners.

The elevator doors opened, and Kingston tried to slip by Carrie's desk without drawing her attention, but her familiar voice stopped him. "Hey, sweetie. Did you bring me any coffee?"

He paused, a polite smile on his face. "Sorry, Carrie, I was in a rush."

She pouted at him from behind the reception desk. "Aw, no worries, I guess."

Kingston sighed. "Next time I'll grab you a cup," he promised, wishing he had it in him to be anything but polite to a woman. His mother had raised him right, but Carrie made him wish he'd kept his kindness to himself; ever since he invited her along for coffee that first time, she'd been pestering him each day, and Kingston swore he could feel her eyes on him while he worked. He hadn't wanted to peer over his cubicle to see if that was true or not, but he never seemed to make it past the reception desk without getting caught in a pointless conversation.

Carrie stood up and leaned toward him, and Kingston's eyes dipped to her neckline for a moment before he caught himself. She smiled at him knowingly. "Why don't we skip the coffee and get a drink tonight, huh?"

God, he hated pushy women. "No, thanks," he said, trying to keep his smile from slipping. "I've got a late night training session, so I'll need to catch a few hours of sleep right after work."

Her smile slipped. "Late night training session?"

He nodded. "I'm planning to run the half this spring."

Her brow furrowed for a moment, but then Carrie laughed. "Oh, Kingston. You're just too sweet for words; did anybody ever tell you that?"

Not sure why she was laughing or how to respond, Kingston just tipped his head toward her and retreated to his cubicle. The sound of Carrie's giggles followed him, and he shook his head in confusion.

Taking a swallow of his now-cold coffee, his thoughts drifted back to the pretty girl at the café, and he wondered if it would be too obvious if he suddenly started going there every day on his breaks.

"Knock, knock," his boss wrapped his knuckles on the top of the cubicle, and Kingston jumped, spilling coffee down the front of his shirt.

He bit back a curse, digging through his desk drawer in search of napkins while his boss watched. Making a couple of futile dabs at his chest, he grinned ruefully up at his boss. "What did you need, Mr. Fitz?"

The older man leaned casually against the flimsy wall. "I just wanted to see how you're settling in, Price"

He sort of hated that his boss insisted on referring to everyone by their last name, no "Mr." or "Ms." in front of it, but he tried not to let the rudeness get to him. Just because the other man wasn't as polite as he'd have liked didn't mean Kingston had to answer him in kind. "Fine," Kingston said. "The office may be bigger, but the work is similar to what I was used to back home." He grinned. "Only there's more of it."

Fitz quirked an eyebrow. "How long are you planning on being in this position?"

"As long as it's a good fit, I guess," Kingston said slowly. "But I don't have any plans to leave."

"Then a word of advice, son. You might want to stop referring to Texas as 'home'."

Kingston dipped his head in acknowledgement, trying not to look embarrassed. "You know how it is, sir," he said. "New York takes some getting used to, but I'm very happy here."

Fitz nodded without answering, and he moved away, leaving Kingston alone with his work. He glanced over his shoulder once, wondering if he'd given his boss the answers the man was looking for, and then he shook his head. _No use worrying. I've just got to make sure I do my job, and do a damn good job at it, too._ Things had been much more laid back in his old office, and Kingston hadn't quite adjusted to the feeling that everyone he worked with in New York was sizing him up, waiting to see if he'd sink or float.

Throwing the empty coffee cup in the trash, Kingston's thoughts returned to the pretty barista with a smile. _Pretty barista...PB._ He chuckled at the nickname. "We'll go together like peanut butter and jelly," he joked to himself as he thought about her. _And maybe_ , he thought, turning back to his computer and starting to tackle his inbox, _I'll have the guts to ask her name the next time I see her._

### CHAPTER FIVE

Carl was sprawled out on the couch when Nora got home, watching a reality show about robots, but he grinned as soon as he saw her.

"Lady, you owe me a date." He ran his hands carefully through his blue-tipped hair. "Let's go out!"

Nora shook her head. "I've got to get up early to run." She paused, considering. "I better enjoy it while I still can."

Her roommate sighed heavily. "Takeout again," he said, pulling out his phone and hitting speed dial. While he was on hold, he glanced at Nora. "What do you mean, while you still can?"

She told him about the job offer while he ordered. "I'm seriously thinking about it. I mean, a raise and a 401k? That's, like, a real job."

Carl nodded thoughtfully. "I'd go for it."

"But what about running? I was just thinking today that I might want to start training for the Half this spring."

"Why not run at night?"

She glared at him. "In Central Park? I'm not that stupid."

Carl rolled his eyes. "I'm sure there's a midnight runners' club around; why don't you look online?"

"I've never heard of anything like that," she said slowly. "Do people seriously run at night?"

"All the time. And hey, this is the city that never sleeps, right?" He joked.

Nora rolled her eyes. "How do you even know about something like this?"

Carl's smile slipped, and he started to fiddle with the gauge in his left ear. "Reggie was into running."

They hadn't really talked about Carl's breakup since he moved in, and Nora mentally kicked herself. "Oh." She'd known Carl and Reggie were serious enough to move in together in Philly, which is why their breakup combined with Carl's desire to get away had given Nora a new roommate, but Carl hadn't wanted to touch the subject the few times she'd asked, and after a couple of months, Nora had let it drop. At a loss, she gave him a quick hug, but he swatted her arms away and popped off the sofa.

"No sympathy, girl. I'm fine. But I bet you'll be able to have your cake and run it off too if you find a running group."

Nora considered it. "Maybe. I've never really trained with a group before; part of why I like running is being alone."

Carl shrugged. "I wouldn't know, but group sports always seemed like more fun to me, anyway. All those sweaty bodies getting physical together! And," he added slyly, "maybe you'll bring home a fine running buddy for me." He reached for her hand and gave her a clumsy twirl.

She laughed. "I'll do my best, but if they seriously run at midnight, I might be too tired to remember!"

Carl winked. "I'll leave you a note to remind you.

***

_Carl's right_ , Nora thought as she skimmed the Meetup group for the New York Midnight Run. The group met every day, rain or shine, in Central Park. There were tons of smaller sub-groups, too; people training for a five k, a ten k, and even the upcoming half marathon. _Bingo_. Nora clicked on the group training for the half, and before she could talk herself out of it, sent in a request to join. The site asked for a user picture, and Nora uploaded a photo she'd snapped of her running shoes right after she bought the newest pair. She'd sprung for quality that time, and although it might have been silly, she couldn't resist the urge to take a picture of the neon stripes and tight laces.

She filled out her profile, keeping it short and sweet, and set her phone down on the nightstand. _I'll tell Todd tomorrow_ , she thought, and she fell asleep with a smile, _and this gives me an even better reason to call home on Sunday!_

That weekend, Nora laced up her shoes and headed uptown for her first midnight run.

Although parts of the city were still lively, their neighborhood was deathly still, and Nora breathed a sigh of relief when she got off the mostly deserted subway car at Central Park. Even at that hour, the park's station was lively, and Nora smiled at a busker with a guitar and harmonica as she climbed up the stairs.

The website had said that the group met near the station, and when Nora emerged into the darkness, she didn't have to look very hard before she spotted a small clump of people in spandex and sneakers. A few of the runners had reflective stripes on their pants, and one guy was even wearing a flashing red light like the kind bikers wear strapped around his ankle. Nora stifled a giggle at the sight as she approached the group.

A tall woman with a clipboard was chatting with an older man, and Nora gave a little wave as she walked up. "I'm new," she began nervously, and clipboard woman smiled.

"Great! It's always good to see another face. Just need you to sign this waiver that you're here because you want to be, and that you won't hold the group accountable if you injure yourself."

Nora skimmed the page and signed it quickly. "Anything else?"

"Stretch out however you like; we'll start with a warm up mile of walk-jog intervals, but then the fun will really begin." The woman winked at her, and Nora grinned in response. Only another run junkie would define a midnight half-marathon training session as fun, and Nora already felt at home.

Still, she'd always been shy, so she stretched off to the side in the shadows as she listened to the conversations of the other runners. Most of them had obviously been coming to the group for a long time; there was an easy sense of camaraderie as they greeted one another, laughing and joking while stretching out hamstrings and bouncing on the balls of their feet. Nora felt the same anticipation fluttering in her stomach that she'd felt at her first race, even though she knew this was just a training session, not a competition, and she closed her eyes and inhaled through her nose to calm her nerves.

"You new to the group?" A twangy voice near her face asked, and Nora's eyes popped open in surprise. _I'd know that voice anywhere._

She was right; the Texan from the coffee shop was standing beside her. He almost blended in with the shadows of the park, but Nora's eyes traced his outline, his lean body even more apparent under his tight running leggings and dark mock turtleneck. For a minute, Nora just grinned at him stupidly, but finally, she found her voice. "Hi!"

"Hi, yourself," he said with a smile. "Haven't seen you before."

Her heart fell. Did he seriously not remember her from Books and Brew? Nora cleared her throat, grateful that the shadows hid her blush, and wondering if it was just too dark for him to recognize her. "Yeah," she said finally, "I'm new to the group."

"You'll love it." He flashed his smile, brilliant even in the dark. "I've been doing midnight runs back home for years."

She bent down to tighten her laces, even though she knew her shoes were fine, and snuck a glance at his lean legs. _God, he's all muscle. I wonder if he'd look as good without those running tights?_ "How long have you been in this group?"

"About two weeks; new to the city." Unaware of her scrutiny, he stretched one leg out and sank into a low lunge. Involuntarily, Nora's eyes followed his hips, and she tried to ignore the way her stomach suddenly sprouted butterflies as she checked him out. _What in the world is wrong with me?_ Her face flushed even deeper and she stood up with a jerk.

Thankfully, she was spared from having to make any more small talk when a whistle sounded, and the woman with the clipboard waved her arms. "We're all here. Let's get started!"

Tex smiled down at her, and Nora belatedly realized that she'd been so busy checking him out she'd forgotten to ask his name. Before she could say anything, though, he moved to the front of the clump of runners, and the whistle blew again and everyone started to jog slowly.

The lights of the city were visible through the trees, and Nora was reminded of an old movie she'd seen once, with Fred Astaire dancing a magical duet with a dark haired starlet in Central Park. Her eyes darted to the front of the group, instantly picking out the Texan's tall form, and she sighed, wondering what it would be like to feel his strong arms cradling her during a slow dance. At first, the easy pace did nothing to distract Nora from the fantasies her mind was spinning, but after they finished the first loop of the park, Nora's breath started coming a bit harder, and she slowed her pace, dropping to the very back of the group. The park felt different at night; Nora had expected it to be silent and sinister, but there were a handful of other people out besides the runners. Nora even spotted three different police officers, each strolling through the park unhurried and alone, and she felt a little safer. Everything looked different, too. It was almost like walking into an old-fashioned photograph; the bare trees glistened whitely under the street lamps, and even in the dark, Nora could see the frost covering the ground, adding to the strange effect.

When they finally finished running two short laps around the park, Nora's legs were ready to give out, and she was drenched in cold sweat. _I really should have started half marathon training alone before joining this group;_ she thought. A few of the other runners seemed as tired as Nora, though, and the guy who was wearing the flashing light was breathing even harder, so Nora tried to check her self-criticism as they went through a cool-down together. Now that she'd had a chance to catch her breath, her thoughts kept straying to the lanky Texan stretching out on the ground a few feet away from her. He must have felt her eyes on him, because after a moment, he looked up and gave her a broad smile. Nora looked away fast, feeling as if he'd caught her doing something she shouldn't. _Well, he did; he has a girlfriend,_ Nora reminded herself, thinking of the leggy blond from the coffee shop. _You shouldn't even be dreaming._

When the group was done, clipboard woman came over to Nora. "How was your first midnight run?"

Nora grinned. "Intense! Thanks for including me."

"Any time. A bunch of us usually go out after; tonight, we're headed for Spanky's Diner. Want to come?"

Nora paused, but she shook her head. "I really shouldn't. I start an opening shift on Monday, and I should try and stock up on sleep before the weekend is over."

Clipboard woman smiled. "No worries. But will we see you again?"

With a furtive glance at the Texan, Nora grinned. "Absolutely."

The other woman stuck out her hand. "I'm Lynne. Welcome to the group!"

***

After spending nearly two hours running around Central Park, Nora knew she should have been ready to collapse, but despite the unbearably early hour, she was wound up. _At least it won't be hard to be at work so early_ , she thought to herself as she crossed the city. _It's too bad Todd didn't want me to start right now!_ Although part of her had wanted to hang out with the rest of the running group, she'd been both terrified and thrilled at the thought of spending more time with the lanky Texan, so she'd used the excuse of sleep to leave the group behind and do a little thinking.

What was it about him that set her heart racing? _I really should hate him_ , Nora reminded herself; the guy hadn't even remembered her from the coffee shop. But despite that, she was drawn to him in a way she couldn't explain, even to herself. _And maybe_ , she tried to justify, _he just didn't recognize me in the dark. It's not like the park has the best lighting at night._ Still, his reaction to her stung, and Nora secretly wondered if it was just because there was nothing memorable about her.

She was so distracted that she almost missed her stop on the subway, and she gave herself a mental shake as she sprinted up the deserted stairs. _There's no reason to be stupid_ , she thought, glancing around and checking her surroundings. After spending five years in New York, Nora's street smarts had sharpened, and she'd never really felt unsafe in the city, but she knew the quickest way to break that winning streak was to let herself get distracted in a desolate part of town. Luckily, she made it back to her apartment without issue, and quietly let herself in.

Carl had left a note on the coffee pot for her, and Nora almost laughed when she saw it. "Don't forget to keep an eye out for a guy!" Still smiling, Nora crumpled up the note and scribbled one in return. If only Carl knew about Tex!

CHAPTER SIX

Kingston had to fight the urge to check over his shoulder during the run; the new girl reminded him of the pretty barista he still hadn't worked up the nerve to really talk to. _Well, except for her hair,_ he thought, trying to match his strides to his breathing as the group made their first loop of the park. _And the glasses_. He shook his head. "You're just so hung up on her that you're imagining things," he muttered under his breath, struggling to draw his attention back to the run.

Still, his thoughts were scattered, and by the time the group had finished for the night, Kingston was already back to his apartment building when he realized that he hadn't said good night to Lynne. All the runners had made him feel welcome, but Lynne had kind of taken him under her wing when he showed up the first time, and he liked the older woman quite a lot. She reminded him of his sister for some reason, and Kingston kicked himself for being unintentionally rude to the woman that night.

Feeling the need to make amends somehow, he dialed his sister's number as he kicked off his running shoes. Thanks to the time difference, the hour back home was only moderately awful, as opposed to the ungodly number blinking on the clock in his kitchen. _Maybe calling Raye will give me a cosmic pass for being an ass to Lynne tonight,_ he thought as he grabbed a glass of water and sat down on the barstool in the corner of the kitchen.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Rachel answered the phone with her customary bluntness, and Kingston chuckled.

"What did I do now, Raye?"

He could practically hear her rolling her eyes. "Did you even bother to check the clock before you called?"

"It's only midnight there; you can't be ready for bed yet."

"Fool. It just so happens I've got an interview tomorrow, and I was _trying_ to get some sleep."

Feeling instantly contrite, Kingston apologized, but she brushed him off.

"I'm up now. So what's going on?"

"I just wanted to chat," he offered, realizing for the first time that that was a pretty lame excuse for calling so late. "I mean...I miss y'all."

Rachel softened. "We miss you, too. The boys especially."

Kingston had always had a soft spot for his nephews, and he grinned. "How are they both?"

"With their dad this week." He could practically hear her shrug. "So who knows."

"Be fair, Raye. You know he loves them."

"Yes," she admitted, "but that doesn't mean I have to like this whole mess."

He wished he could reach across the miles and give his big sister a hug. "You doing okay?"

"Oh, I'm peachy. Nothing like a trial separation to really liven things up."

Kingston sighed. "It'll work out. However it's supposed to."

"That's pretty crappy advice."

"What do you want me to say? That love's a fairy tale?" The line was silent for a moment, and Kingston took another swallow of water, feeling like an ass. "Sorry, Raye."

"No, you're right," she said softly. "But this fairy tale sure seemed like it was going to last."

Kingston didn't know what to say. Rachel and her husband had been married for seven years, long enough to have two charming boys, buy a big house, and rescue a pair of greyhounds, but then his sister showed up for Christmas dinner without her husband, and all she'd said was that they were separated. He hadn't been able to get any more information from her than that, despite the fact that he kept fishing. "Do you want to talk—"

"Are you going to ask me about the interview?"

Kingston shook his head. "Sure. What's the job?"

"Managing editor for the Daily Sun."

His face broke into a wide smile. "Raye, that's perfect!"

"It's been a long time since I've used that journalism degree," she said. "I just hope I'm not too rusty."

"You'll blow them away. Call me tomorrow to let me know how it goes?"

"You mean today, right?"

Kingston glanced at the clock and laughed. "Right, today."

"Will do. But seriously, you jerk, I really should get some shut eye." She paused. "Everything's seriously okay with you?"

For a moment, he almost told her about the girl at the coffee shop and her sporty doppelgänger, but he decided against it. _What is there to tell? I don't even know either of their names!_ "Seriously okay and nothing to report."

"Then go to sleep, you loon."

He laughed softly. "Love you, hon."

"Love you, too."

When he hung up the phone, he didn't go to bed immediately. Instead, Kingston grabbed a beer from the fridge and sank back onto the barstool, thinking about his sister and her failing marriage. _There's nothing I can do_ , he reminded himself, twirling his phone absentmindedly on the counter. _But that doesn't make it easy to watch._

Promising himself that he'd make a point to call his nephews and Rachel more, Kingston finished off his beer and finally headed to bed, his thoughts as heavy as his limbs.

### CHAPTER SEVEN

Since Nora wasn't working on Sunday, she gave her parents a call in the midafternoon, but nobody answered. _Maybe they're at a thing at the greenhouse,_ she thought idly. Growing up, Nora had almost considered the small garden center downtown her second home; her mom had volunteered there every weekend of Nora's childhood, teaching various classes on plants and garden care, and as far as Nora knew, she was still at it. A little prickle of guilt wormed its way into Nora's mind when she thought about the greenhouse. Her mom had been after her for years to drop by and help out when she was home, but she never made the time. Gardening was a nice hobby, but she'd never caught the same passion for it that fuelled her mother.

_Her_ passion had started when she picked up her first pair of running shoes, but now she had other things on her mind. The next night, Nora considered smearing on lip gloss before she headed out to meet the running group, but she decided against it. _It's not like he'd notice_ , she told herself, trying to kill the sense of anticipation she felt at seeing the handsome guy again, but no matter what she said, her heart was racing by the time she got to Central Park, and she eagerly looked around the group for his tall, lean frame. She waved when she spotted him, and he grinned and waved back.

Before Nora could get up enough courage to go over and talk to him, Lynne blew her whistle, and without preamble, the group assembled on the pavement. This time, Nora ran near the middle on purpose; she had a good view of Tex's broad shoulders rippling through his tight shirt, and the sound of her feet on the pavement was drowned out by the thudding of her heart. What would it be like, she wondered, to run her hands along his back? Every inch of the Texan was muscular, but he wasn't too ripped, not like some photoshopped cover model. _No, he's just right, and he's very real,_ Nora thought to herself with a delightful shiver. She almost didn't notice the second part of the run, and when they finally stopped, Nora wasn't entirely sure if she were panting from exertion, or from the fantasies her mind had started to spin.

Lynne blew her whistle again, and everyone turned their attention toward her. "We've had a few new runners join us this week, so I thought instead of our usual cool down, we could do some partner exercises. So grab a buddy; new folks, find someone more experienced and get to know them!"

Nora bit her lip. _Would it be too creepy if I asked him to be my partner?_ Before she could decide, however, someone tapped her on the shoulder and Nora turned around, steeling herself to be nice to whoever it was. Her disappointment died as soon as she saw a pair of familiar gray eyes, almost silver in the darkness, staring down at her.

"Want to buddy up, hon?"

The soles of her feet started to melt, and Nora nodded at him. _Maybe wishes can come true_ , she thought, following the Texan to a patch of grass near the group and sitting down across from him, mirroring his posture.

"So," he began, stretching his legs out in front of him into a wide straddle, "I didn't catch your name."

Nora pressed the toes of her sneakers to his, opening her legs wide to reach, and tried to steady her breathing. "Nora. What about you?"

"Kingston."

She couldn't help herself; a laugh bubbled up past her lips. "What, as in Jamaica?" She tried to bite back the stupid comment, but it was too late.

Kingston just smiled. "Nope. As in Samuel Kingston Price the third." He reached for her forearms, clasping his large hands around her, and Nora shivered in delight. After a beat, she remembered that she was supposed to be doing what he did, and she wrapped her arms around his forearms, resisting the urge to stroke the fine, dark hair that covered his arms.

"Why not Sam?" Nora stammered, acutely aware of the feeling of his skin against hers.

"Named for my daddy, and his father before him." He shrugged. "Too stuffy for me. Now, don't get me wrong; I loved my granddaddy, and I respect my daddy, but Kingston suits me better." He leaned back, pulling her arms, and Nora let herself hinge forward, feeling the muscles along her back unwinding the deeper they moved into the stretch. Nora exhaled sharply when she realized that her face was hovering dangerously close to Kingston's groin, and she shut her eyes, feeling the blood rush into her cheeks. When he began to bend toward her, Nora forced herself not to watch as his dark head crept closer and closer to the inside of her thighs, but her body was acutely aware of his presence. Nora's palms were slick by the time the stretch was over, and when Kingston let go of Nora's arms, she realized how cold she suddenly was without his breath between her legs.

"What's next?" She tried to sound nonchalant, but her body was on fire from the first stretch. _If they're all as intimate as that, I might as well die right now. Heaven can't be any better_.

"Why don't we do hamstrings next? You can go first."

Wondering how he was going to turn this into a partnered stretch, Nora folded her left foot into her groin and flexed her right foot. She started to lower her torso over the extended leg, and suddenly, warm hands pressed against the small of her back, urging her deeper into the stretch. Her lips parted and an involuntary sigh escaped from her mouth, and the pressure on her back instantly eased.

"Too deep?" His voice was low and soothing, more suited to a bedroom than a midnight run in Central Park, and Nora took a deep breath, trying to catch hold of her runaway emotions.

"No," she finally managed to say, "just right."

"Good," Kingston put his hands back on her and gave her one final, gentle push. "Now the other side."

A warm, tingling sensation had started to build between Nora's legs, and she wasn't sure she could make it through another stretch without blurting out something utterly inappropriate. She gritted her teeth and tried to focus on anything but the hands at her back, but this time, instead of light pressure, Kingston rubbed a few gentle circles on her spine.

"Relax," he said. "I can feel how tense you are."

_If you only knew!_ Nora bit back a giggle and tried to fold deeper into the stretch, but every muscle in her body was acutely aware of Kingston's hands, and he shook his head gently after the stretch.

"It's no good to stretch out when you're tense. You might injure yourself."

"I'll be okay," Nora managed to say. "Your turn?"

He sat down in front of her and began to bend effortlessly into the hamstring stretch. Nora studied the way his muscles rippled across his back for a moment, and then, gingerly, she placed her palms on his lower back.

"You can push harder than that, hon. Not going to break me."

Self-consciously, Nora leaned into him, bearing down as he folded even deeper into the stretch. His breathing was deep and even, and Nora took a slow, deliberate breath, trying to steady hers to match his. _Get a grip_ , she admonished herself. _This isn't as hot as you're making it sound_.

But it was. Every time she touched Kingston or felt his hands on her, Nora's pulse raced and her body responded in ways that she didn't know it could. By the end of the cool down, Nora was more wound up than before, and she knew there was no way she was going to get any sleep that night. Just when she was gearing up to head to the diner with the rest of the group, her phone vibrated against her arm.

She glanced at it, but the number was unfamiliar. "Probably a junk call," she reasoned, setting the phone to silent and letting it go to voicemail.

To Nora's disappointment, Kingston didn't join them at the diner, but she'd already said she would go, so she didn't want to back out. It ended up being a small group; Lynne, the guy with the flashy light, who Nora learned was named Jerome, and Nora. Jerome led the way to a corner booth, and Nora slid onto the cracked vinyl after him.

Lynne smiled at her across the table. "I'm glad you decided to come out. Sometimes, it's a bigger group than others."

Jerome laughed. "Remember that time when we literally cleaned them out of pie?"

Lynne chuckled. "For a bunch of runners, sometimes we sure eat like crap."

Nora smiled, enjoying their easy banter. "How long have you both been doing the midnight thing?"

Lynne scrunched up her face in thought. "I started running after my divorce, and I got into the midnight runs by the end of that year. So I guess for me it's been seven years."

Jerome nodded. "You joined the group right after me, and seven sounds about right."

"Wow," Nora admitted, "I haven't even been running for seven years!"

Lynne eyed her with a smile. "You look like you know what you're doing. Is this your first half?"

Nora nodded, a little embarrassed. "I haven't signed up for it yet; I'm not sure I'll be able to run it by March."

Before either of them could respond, a chipper waitress with curly black hair bustled up to their table. "There's my finish liners! Light group tonight, huh?"

Lynne nodded. "Cassidy, this is Nora. She's new to the group."

The waitress beamed at Nora. "Welcome, sweetie. Hope I'll see you in here often with these fools."

Jerome just laughed. "You love us. I'll have a short stack of pancakes and a coke."

"And coffee, two creams, no sugar, right?" Cassidy looked at Lynne, who nodded. Then the waitress turned her attention to Nora, who'd been fiddling with her phone. "What about you, new girl?"

"Um," Nora glanced up, distracted. "Pancakes sound good."

Cassidy headed back to the counter without writing their orders down, and Nora picked up her phone. "Whoever called when we were back at the park left a message."

Lynne frowned. "It's a pretty odd time to call."

Nora hesitated, staring at her phone for a moment. "Do you guys mind if I step out for a sec?"

Jerome and Lynne both shook their heads. "I hope nothing's wrong," Jerome said as Nora stood up.

She nodded absentmindedly, but she already had her phone to her ear as she opened the door to the diner, and her dad's familiar voice had a twinge of panic to it, and Nora felt her heart clench as she played his message.

"Sweetie, call me as soon as you get this. It's your mom."

### CHAPTER EIGHT

That night, Kingston barely slept.

He went through his usual post-run wind down, complete with a long, hot shower to get his blood flowing again, but in all honesty, he didn't have any trouble getting his blood flowing that night. He'd barely noticed the cold for once; stretching out with Nora had provided a welcome distraction from the winter weather, and Kingston flushed when he remembered the feeling of her body under his hands.

"Get it together, boy," he muttered, plumping up his pillow and trying yet another position. "She's a run buddy, nothing more."

But his body clearly disagreed with him, and the more Kingston thought about her, the more turned on he found himself getting. Flipping onto his back, he closed his eyes, trying to dispel the vision his brain had conjured up of Nora in bed beside him. _Don't be a flake,_ he admonished himself, dragging his thoughts away from Nora and focusing on the barista he'd been mooning over. _How can you forget those big brown eyes?_ Sure, Nora was fine to look at, but he was pretty sure he was only obsessing over her because of their intimate cool down session. _Quit thinking with your balls, boy._

Drawing his thoughts firmly away from the runner, Kingston tried to recall the details of the other face that had filled his mind for days. _I wish I knew her name._ He focused on remembering every detail from the few times they'd met; the way her hair hung in loose waves around her face; the sweet, simple honesty that shone out of her gaze; the particular way her apron clung to her in all the right places. Kingston smiled, but his thoughts couldn't quite let go of Nora, and in his tired state just before he finally dropped off to sleep, Kingston decided that the runner sort of reminded him of the barista.

He woke up with a stiff neck, and when he rolled over to check the clock, he cursed softly. He'd slept way past his alarm, which he realized with a sinking heart he'd never set, and he sprang out of bed and started pulling on his clothes. There was only one clean suit hanging in his closet, and Kingston cursed himself again. "How did you forget to send out the dry cleaning this weekend? Get it together, boy." As his fingers hurriedly buttoned up his crisp blue shirt, he promised himself he'd stop mooning over the girl at the coffee shop. In fact, he decided, he wouldn't even go there for a week.

His resolve lasted until lunch time. No one had chastised him for his late arrival at the office, although Carrie had pouted angrily when he swept in, and Kingston had thrown himself into work that morning to make up for being tardy. But despite his best intentions, when he left the office at noon, his feet led him directly to the little coffee shop, and he scanned the space eagerly, hoping for a glimpse of her.

Another girl was behind the counter, and he vaguely remembered seeing her before when PB had been working. As he approached the register, inspiration struck, and he smiled down at the barista.

"How's it going today, hon?"

She grinned up at him. "Better now that you're here. You're becoming quite the regular."

Kingston paused. "You could say that," he said, his eyes drifting away from her face as he tried to catch a look at the back room behind the counter.

"So, what'll it be?"

Dragging his eyes back to her, he smiled. "Cup of coffee, to go. What's your name?"

Her eyes got wide, and her smile nearly broke her face. "Laurel. What's yours?"

"Kingston," he said, his gaze skimming over the girl and looking behind her once more. "Um, do you like working here?"

She leaned forward, and Kingston caught a flash of a hot pink bra strap, and he swallowed nervously. "It's okay, I guess." Her eyes traveled down his body before returning to his face. "You make it loads better."

Kingston took the cup of coffee she offered, trying not to let the barista's obvious interest distract him. "Do you, er, like your coworkers?"

She rolled her eyes. "Who wants to talk about them? I'd rather hear about you," she offered suggestively, leaning forward even more.

Kingston took a step back. "Nothing much to tell," he said, glancing behind the counter one last time before retreating to the door with a wave. Laurel looked annoyed, but he was too frustrated with himself to really notice.

Sipping his coffee as he walked, he shook his head ruefully. "That totally backfired," he grumbled to himself. "Now she probably thinks I'm interested in her!" With a sigh, he downed the rest of his coffee and headed back to work, promising himself that he'd do his best to forget the mysterious barista.

### HAPTER NINE

Nora's hands were shaking as she punched in the number her dad had given her; neither of her parents had a cell phone, something which she'd teased them about mercilessly for years, but when a strange woman answered with the words, "Mercy Hospital," all thoughts of teasing fled.

"My dad called," she stammered. "His name is Richard Willson."

"Hang on a minute." Hold music filled the line, and Nora jiggled her leg nervously. A couple walking into the diner glanced at her before moving away quickly, and Nora slid down the building to a spot in the shadows.

"Peanut, is that you?" Her dad's voice was scratchy, almost as if he'd been crying, and Nora felt her whole body clench in fearful anticipation.

"Dad? What happened?"

"Your mom had a heart attack."

Nora stared at the dark city street, unseeing. "What?"

"She's still in the ICU, but I'm hoping she'll be better soon. The doctors are running some tests; we should know more in a few hours."

"But, Dad, how? Mom won't even touch fried food!"

She could practically hear his shrug over the phone. "Like I said, we don't know much right now. Can you come home?"

She paused, remembering suddenly that she was supposed to start her new job in a few hours. "I'll have to see."

"Peanut, I don't want to worry you," he stopped for a moment. "But the sooner the better," he finally said.

Nora's throat constricted. _It's that bad?_ "I'll catch the train into Philly first thing in the morning."

"I might not be able to drive out to pick you up."

Nora shook her head impatiently. "I'll figure something out." Her voice started to break, but she pushed the words out. "Dad? I love you. Tell Mom I love her, too."

"We love you, too."

Nora hung up the phone fighting back tears. "Damn it!" Her words were loud on the deserted street, but Nora didn't care. Her brain still couldn't quite grasp everything her dad had said, but it was having an even harder time sifting through what he _hadn't_ said. One thing was certain; if her dad was pushing her to come home immediately, her mom was probably worse off than he was letting on.

Quickly, Nora fired off a text to Todd letting him know that she'd had a family emergency, and then she poked her head inside the diner. Lynne looked up immediately and frowned in concern, but Nora didn't want to talk about it. "A family thing," she managed to say. "I'm sorry, but I've got to go."

"Of course! Let us know if you need anything." The words should have sounded empty coming from a near stranger, but Nora could tell that Lynne meant it.

"Thank you." She hesitated. "I might not be at the run for a few nights."

"Don't worry about that. We'll see you whenever you're able to come out."

Nora nodded, almost smiling. She wasn't really big on sharing the details of her personal life, but she had a feeling that if she kept up with the running group, she and Lynne could become friends.

Pushing that thought to the back of her mind, Nora hurried across town. When she got to her dark apartment, she hesitated for a moment. Part of her wanted to wake Carl up; she was feeling desperate for someone to talk to about the whole thing with her mom, but since she barely knew anything, she decided to let him sleep. _I can always call him from the train_ , she reasoned, tossing some clothes into her shoulder bag. She didn't bother checking online for tickets; trains ran every few hours from Grand Central to the 30th Street station in Philadelphia, and she knew she'd be able to catch one, even at such short notice.

After leaving a sticky note for Carl, Nora hailed a taxi a few blocks from their apartment, and the sun was just coming up when she made it to the train station. Instead of stopping to admire the beautiful architecture like she usually did, Nora pushed through the crowd to a ticket kiosk, and in moments, she had a ticket in hand for a train leaving in half an hour.

Settling back into her seat, Nora squeezed her eyes shut and tried to will herself not to worry. _Mom'll be fine_ , she promised herself. _Dad's just scared, that's all._ But even though her mind desperately wanted to believe the words, her heart wasn't so sure.

***

Nora's parents lived a little over an hour outside of Philadelphia, but Mercy Hospital was in the center of the city, so Nora didn't even bother contacting her dad for a ride. Shouldering her duffle bag, Nora dug out her bus pass from the back of her wallet and navigated her way to the hospital. Part of her hoped it would be a wasted trip, that she'd get there only to discover her mom had already been discharged and was waiting for her in the family's slightly run-down farmhouse. When she got to the tall, sterile building, Nora stood outside for a moment, staring up at the mirrored windows and trying to steel herself to go in and find out how her mom was doing.

She'd always hated hospitals, ever since her three-day stay to have her tonsils removed when she was seven, and she considered herself lucky that she hadn't had any close friends or family fall ill enough to require hospitalization...until now.

Taking a deep breath, Nora walked through the automatic doors. Despite how early it still was, the hospital was filled with nurses in scrubs moving quickly through the halls, and patients and their loved ones waiting and wondering. While Nora waited at the information desk, she glimpsed a couple of doctors hurrying in one direction or another, and her stomach clenched. Did one of them know what had happened to her mom? Maybe they were on the way to look at her test results right now. Maybe they were headed to a private room to give her father bad news.

"Yes?" A tired looking nurse in pink scrubs motioned to Nora.

Nora swallowed. "My mom had a heart attack. Is she—is she still here?"

"Name?"

"Nora Willson."

The nurse raised an eyebrow. "Your name, or the patient's?"

Nora flushed. "Sorry. Her name is Marjorie Willson."

Turning to a computer, the nurse hit a few keys, and Nora held her breath in tense silence. Finally, the nurse nodded. "Third floor, room 305. You know where you're going?"

Nora exhaled in relief. "I can find it."

Pointing over her shoulder, the nurse offered, "The elevators are back there. Next!"

Dismissed, Nora headed in the direction the nurse had indicated, but when she pushed the button on the elevator for the third floor, she noticed that her hand was shaking. _Get a grip,_ she told herself. _There's no reason to panic._

Feeling as if she were seven years old again, Nora stepped off the elevator and glanced nervously down a hallway that smelled like rubbing alcohol and sweat. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she turned left, breathing shallowly. When she reached the room her mom was in, Nora stood outside for a moment, slowly counting to one hundred in her mind. Her nerves weren't any better when she got through, but she drew a deep breath and realized that she had to quit stalling.

Pushing the door open silently, Nora crept into the dimly lit room. She glanced at the woman on the hospital bed in front of her and frowned; silver hair framed an unfamiliar sleeping face.

"Mom? Dad?" Nora called softly, wondering if she'd got the wrong room.

Her dad poked his head around the curtain dividing the room. "Through here, sweetie."

Tiptoeing past the other patient, Nora inhaled sharply when she saw her mom. She was propped up in the bed with tubing coming out of her arms and nose, and the woman in front of Nora looked pale, frail, and dangerously ill. She gripped her dad's hand for a minute before moving closer to the bed.

"Mom?" She leaned over her, and her mom's hazel eyes fluttered open.

"Hi, sweetie," she said, her usually strong voice a breathy whisper.

Nora swallowed. "How're you feeling?"

"I've been better." Her mom smiled ruefully. "How are you, peanut?"

"Fine," Nora said, feeling like she'd stepped into some surreal time warp. "I got a promotion at work," she offered, unsure of what to say. _What happened?_ She wanted to ask. _How did this happen to you? You're too healthy for heart issues._ But she didn't know how to say it, so instead she stood beside her mother's hospital bed feeling like an idiot and talking about her job.

"That's wonderful news, sweetie!" Her dad beamed at her. "Isn't that wonderful, Marjorie?"

Nora's mom's eyes flickered for a moment. "Wonderful," she echoed softly.

Nora found her courage. "Mom, what happened?"

"A heart attack," her mom sighed. "The doctors say it was pretty bad."

Nora's dad jumped in. "But you're doing great, Marjorie. They also said you should be going home soon."

Her mom shook her head and closed her eyes. "They said it was likely to happen again, Richard," she said, her voice regaining some of its old strength. She opened her eyes and looked at Nora. "They want me to have surgery."

Nora's chest constricted, but she forced a smile. "That's good, then, right? That means they can fix whatever's wrong."

Her mom shook her head. "I don't know," she said faintly, sinking back against the pillows. "I'm not sure."

"Nora, why don't you come with me down to the cafeteria? Your mother needs to rest, and you and I can grab some breakfast and chat." Her dad steered her toward the door of the room, but Nora paused at the curtain and glanced back for a moment at her mother. She was already asleep, her chest rising and falling quickly with each breath. Nora's eyes flickered to the wall of monitors that were plugged into her mom, and she felt a sliver of ice run down her back.

As soon as they were in the hallway, she looked at her dad. "What was that all about?"

"She's fine," he insisted, not meeting her eyes. "Just scared is all."

"Daddy, I'm scared, too. Was it really a bad one?"

He led the way back to the elevators. "The doctors said surgery will fix her right up."

"You didn't answer my question."

He leaned against the elevator wall and rubbed his hand across his eyes. "Jesus, Nora. It was a heart attack. No matter how bad it was, isn't that bad enough?" His voice broke on the last word, and Nora shook her head.

"I'm sorry," she said instantly, choking up on the words. "I'm just scared."

The elevator doors opened as her father met her eyes. "I'm scared, too, peanut."

That admission was harder for Nora to hear than even her mother's labored breathing. She followed her dad into the hospital cafeteria in silence, trying to sift through her tattered emotions. She didn't pay attention to what her dad ordered, and soon she was sitting down on a hard plastic bench, staring at a tray of food she had no desire to eat.

Her dad didn't seem to be suffering from the same lack of appetite; he ate quickly, without stopping to talk, his eyes fixed on the food as he cleared most of his tray in minutes, and then he stood up to get more coffee. Nora stared off into space, barely aware that her dad had left the table. When he sat back down, he leaned forward and looked at his daughter.

"I'm sorry, peanut. This is just all too much."

She nodded. "So...about the surgery..."

Her dad added another creamer to his coffee. "It's a bypass. Basically, the doctors want to replace one of the valves in her heart."

Nora shuddered. "Would it help?"

"It might." He paused, his eyes drifting around the room before come to rest on Nora. "But then again, there's no predicting if a surgery like that would keep her from having another heart attack someday down the road."

His frank answer startled Nora. "Another one?"

Her dad shrugged and stirred his coffee absently. "Now that she's had one, it's more likely that it will happen again." His eyes glistened, and he reached across the table to squeeze Nora's hand. "I'm not ready to lose her, baby girl."

Nora choked up. "Me, neither, daddy."

### CHAPTER TEN

Kingston didn't have time to dwell on the barista too much that week; when he got home from work on Tuesday, he tripped over a pair of beige leather pumps. He glanced at the shoes, confused for a moment, and then he looked up.

"Mom," he said, swallowing nervously. "And Sir. What are you both doing here?"

His mother crossed the small space to kiss him on each cheek. "We wanted to surprise you."

"It's certainly a surprise," Kingston admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "How'd you get in?"

"Oh, your doorman was ever so kind once he learned we were your folks."

Kingston smiled. His mother could charm a snake right out of its skin, and he had no doubt that the poor doorman hadn't stood a chance. "I wish you'd have let me know you were coming; I'd have tidied the place up a bit."

"Yes, this place," his father said, moving into the kitchenette with a frown. "Beautiful location. How much are you paying in rent each month, son?"

"The bank supplied the apartment." The lie slipped out before he could think, and Kingston held his breath, hoping his face didn't give him away.

"Humph," his father answered. "I should hope so. Didn't think I raised my boy to be frivolous or wasteful."

Kingston shook his head hurriedly. "No, sir." He glanced at the refrigerator. "I don't have much to offer—"

"Let's go out, then," his mother said, looping her arm through his as she slipped on her shoes. "Take us somewhere that's part of the real New York."

Kingston chuckled. "I haven't been here long enough to discover the 'real New York', but I'm sure we can figure something out."

Before he could open the door, his father strode across the room and put his hand on the knob. "After you, sweetheart," he said, nodding to Kingston's mother. As she slipped into the hall, his dad put his hand on Kingston's shoulder, stopping him for a minute.

"You're doing well for yourself, son. I'm glad that bank realizes what you're worth."

He forced himself to nod. "They do, sir."

"Good." His dad nodded to the hall, and Kingston followed his mom, his heart racing. Would his father still be proud of him if he knew that Kingston spent every day in a cubicle, not an office, or would he think he wasn't working hard enough somehow? Kingston shook his head, hoping that his parents wouldn't ask him too many questions about work. Even though the job _had_ been a promotion, his father hadn't been impressed when Kingston had initially shared the news. Now that his parents were in New York, he felt a childish desire to make believe his new life was even better than he'd imagined, but he wasn't sure how long he could keep spinning stories to keep them satisfied.

Luckily, once they'd been seated in a dark corner of the steak house near his apartment, Kingston realized that his mom at least wasn't interested in hearing him talk about work. In true form, she was on his case within minutes about his lack of a social life.

"How are you ever going to meet a nice girl if all you do is work?" She lamented, picking daintily at her salad.

Kingston sighed. He was tempted to tell her about Carrie's obvious interest in him, just to get her off his case, but he knew from experience that if he mentioned a girl to his mom, he'd better be ready to propose within weeks. "I don't just work, Mom. I'm still running."

She sniffed. "You aren't going to meet a nice girl that way."

"I've joined another midnight running club," he said, splitting his attention between both his parents. "It's a lot of fun." Tearing off a piece of bread from the bread basket in the center of the table, he added, "I'm training to run the half marathon in the spring."

His father nodded approvingly. "It's important to keep your body as strong as your mind."

"But darlin'," his mother said, "I want grandbabies soon!"

Kingston sighed. "You've got Blake and Shelton," he reminded her gently. "Have you seen them recently?"

His mother sighed. "Rachel said she'd bring them over next week." Chewing on the bottom of her lip, she lowered her voice. "I wish she and Mark would figure out this nasty separation business."

Kingston's father took a swig of his gin and tonic. "I've tried to talk with her about it, but she's like a bank vault." He raised an eyebrow at his son. "Has she confided in you?"

He shook his head, thinking back to the conversation he'd had with his sister earlier that week. "No. I wish I knew what to say or do that would help her."

"Don't rush into marriage," his father said, leaning forward to look at him intently. "No matter what your mother may say, son, that's not a commitment you should take lightly."

His mother pouted. "But Kingston's got a good head on his shoulders. I'm sure he wouldn't make the same mistakes as Rachel."

Kingston wasn't so sure that Rachel had made a mistake; he wondered if she and Mark had simply fallen out of love. Given how many of his friends were divorced, he doubted that they'd all "rushed in" as his father put it. But all he said was, "Don't worry. I'm not thinking about getting married anytime soon. Besides," he offered with a gentle laugh, "I'd have to meet someone first."

His mother eyed him intently. "I wish you'd let me introduce you to—"

"No, Mom," Kingston said firmly. "No set ups. I can find my own girl, thank you very much."

"But you haven't," she pointed out reasonably.

"But I will," Kingston said, his thoughts drifting to a pair of wide brown eyes that made his heart race.

### CHAPTER ELEVEN

That night, alone in her old bed in her parents' farmhouse, Nora tossed and turned for hours. When sleep finally overcame her, she was swept into a dream about Kingston.

Pebbles hit her window, calling her to lift the sash, and sleepily, Nora swung her feet out of bed and crossed the floor. When she looked down into the moonlit yard, his familiar smile beamed up at her.

Her heart started to beat faster. "What are you doing here?" She whispered, leaning over the sill.

"I'm here for you, hon," came the soft reply.

Nora swallowed. "How are you going to get up here? My parents--" She paused. There was something about her parents that she was struggling to remember, but it danced at the corner of her memory, just out of reach. "I don't—" she tried again.

The words had barely left her mouth when she felt a gentle touch on her shoulder, and Nora exhaled sharply. Kingston chuckled, turning her to face him. "You were saying?" His eyes were alight with expectation, and Nora felt her body begin to tingle in response to his intense gaze. He tipped her chin toward his and leaned forward, pausing an inch away from kissing her. His breath was hot on her skin, and Nora tried not to shiver at the delightful sensation. Kingston's mouth curved into a slow, sure smile, and he inched a little closer.

Nora licked her lips, her heart racing. She'd fantasized about sneaking a guy up to her bedroom when she was in high school, but the couple of boys she'd seriously dated had been just as polite and well-behaved as Nora, and no one ever made her act on her fantasy. _Until now_ , she thought, studying Kingston's lips hovering close to her face.

Tentatively, Nora closed the distance, bringing her lips against his with a gentle sigh. The kiss was long and deep, and Nora felt the soles of her feet begin to dissolve into the floor.

Kingston's lips were thick and smooth, and with each kiss, Nora melted a little bit more. He murmured her name against her mouth, and heat flooded Nora's body as she reached for him, tangling her fingers in his hair. Gently, he ran his hand along her neck, her collarbone, her shoulder, stroking her skin in smooth, sure movements.

Nora shivered and pressed her body against his, beyond caring that her thin night shirt offered little in the way of a barrier between them. Somehow, his shirt was already off, and Nora's hands slowly began to trace the thick muscles across his shoulders. His arms tightened around her hungrily, and Kingston trailed his lips down her jaw before coming to rest at the hollow of her throat. A low moan escaped Nora as his tongue flicked delicately against her skin.

Just when she thought her knees were about to give out, Kingston lifted her up and in one swift motion deposited her on the old twin bed. Gently, he pressed his lean body beside her, and Nora slid over to accommodate him, her heart racing. She tried to deny the knot of longing that had formed in her stomach, but every inch of her being was acutely aware of his flesh against hers.

Never taking his eyes from her face, Kingston slid one of his hands deliberately up her leg, the fingertips skimming over her bare skin like water. Nora's breath caught as his hand slipped under the hem of her nightshirt, and gently, he started to stroke her inner thigh. A shudder passed through her, and Kingston exhaled loudly in response, stroking faster. His other hand cradled her head gently, and Nora leaned back, arching into Kingston's touch. She felt as fragile as glass, as if one more touch could shatter her.

The tips of his fingers brushed against her, asking permission, and Nora wrapped her arms around him, pulling him down on top of her. His weight shifted gently against her, his hands still tracing lines of fire across her body, and desperate need welled up in her. Nora opened her eyes and studied his face; the perfect line of his jaw, the generous, wide mouth, before coming to rest on his steady gray gaze. Her hands started to move of their own accord, stroking down the length of his spine before coming to rest at the elastic of his briefs. Slowly, cautiously, Nora slid her fingers under the waistband, and Kingston ground his hips into her in response.

Need overwhelmed her, and Nora pressed her body against Kingston's solid weight. Everything about it felt right, and Nora's shyness slipped away in a tangle of sweaty flesh. The blood was pounding in Nora's ears as she wriggled her hips, trying to slip out of her panties, but the pounding only increased. Startled, Nora realized that someone was knocking on the bedroom door, and her eyes flew open in panic.

Sunlight streamed through the yellow curtains, and Nora was alone in her bed. Sweaty and disoriented, she glanced around, wondering what had happened to Kingston, but then her dad's voice broke through her fog.

"I've made pancakes if you're awake, peanut. Visiting hours start in a bit, and I want to get back there as soon as we can."

_Mom_. Nora's face heated with shame as she croaked, "I'll be right down."

Her dad's footsteps receded, and Nora buried her head under the pillow. _What kind of sick person has a hot and heavy dream while her mom is laying in a hospital bed?_ Hurriedly, Nora stripped off her sweaty nightshirt, grabbed a towel, and ran across the hall to take a shower. _But it felt so real_ , she thought, replaying the dream in her mind before shaking her head firmly. Now wasn't the time for her to fixate on adolescent fantasies, no matter how gorgeous Kingston was; every fiber of her being needed to be focused on being present for her parents, especially her mom. Nora toweled off deliberately, promising herself that she wouldn't think about Kingston anymore while she was at home.

***

Nora's mother was discharged a day later, with a date scheduled for the bypass surgery in a few weeks, and even though Nora's impulse was to stay home with her parents, her mom insisted that she go back to New York.

"You can't spend all your time here, Nora," she'd urged. "That promotion won't wait forever."

Nora knew she was right; she'd talked to Todd the first day she was in Pennsylvania, and while he'd said he understood, Nora could tell he wasn't thrilled to have to postpone her training. Still, Nora worried about her mom the entire train ride back to the city, and she even skimmed the job postings she could find online for work near her parents' town. There wasn't anything that jumped out at her, not even any coffee shop or fast food positions, and Nora resolved that at the very least, she would make an effort to call home every day, no matter how crazy her new schedule was. _And I'll ask Todd if I can take the time off to be there for the surgery_ , she told herself.

Carl was waiting for her in the living room, and he'd pulled her into a tight hug before she was even halfway through the door.

She forced a laugh. "Nice to see you, too."

He pulled back, studying her face. "She's fine, right?"

Nora shrugged. "She has surgery later this month. After that, I guess we'll see."

Carl shook his head. "She's fine," he insisted, "and so are you."

This time, her laugh was genuine, but halfway out of her mouth, it shifted into a sob, and she buried her face against Carl's shoulder. "I don't know what to do," she whispered through her tears.

"Nothing you can do. She'll be fine," he repeated, "don't worry."

Trying to get a grip on herself, Nora nodded. "Thank you."

"Of course! I'm just sorry you didn't wake me before you left; I'd have come with you."

Nora looked at him in surprise. "Really?"

Carl rolled his eyes. "I practically grew up at your house, Nora. Of course I love your folks."

She'd never heard him say anything like that, and it touched her. Afraid she might start crying again, Nora broke off the hug and set her bag down. "They'd be happy to hear that," she said, kneeling down to sift through her bag so she didn't have to look at him.

Carl rubbed her shoulders. "You're family, Nor, whether you like it or not."

***

Once she told Todd she was back, he insisted that she begin her training the next day. "I already had you on the schedule for split shifts all week," he told her over the phone. "No need to change that now, right?"

Secretly, Nora had hoped he'd give her another day or two off, since her emotions were still a bit of a wreck, but she forced a smile into her voice and said, "Nope! I'll be there first thing tomorrow."

She skipped her run that night, but it didn't matter; she was too keyed up to sleep. When she got to Books and Brew at four-thirty in the morning, Todd was just unlocking the front door.

"Welcome back!" He held the door open for her, and then locked it again once they were both inside. "Don't want anyone wandering in," he said in answer to her questioning stare. "No one reads the posted hours."

Nora nodded, pushing away her worries about her mom and trying to focus on what Todd was saying. "Has that happened before?"

"All the time." Todd flicked on the light switch near the door. "Make sure you lock up once you start opening alone, but don't forget to unlock the door and switch on the open sign at five."

"Check." Nora followed him into the back, where he showed her how to count down the cash drawer before the start of business. "That's one of the reasons the same manager always works open and close," he told her. "So that he's the only one counting down the drawer that day."

Nora nodded, watching as he slid the drawer into the register and turned the key that secured it in place. "It must have been exhausting for you, managing without an assistant."

Todd tugged on his silver mustache. "I've done it before, and once you move on, I'm sure I'll do it again. Although," he added with a smile, "I am looking forward to taking some time off now!"

"What else do I need to do?"

Todd glanced at his watch. "Plenty, but we need to get open. I'll stick around this shift, and I'll be back for closing, too, but maybe tomorrow or the next day, if you're ready, you'll open on your own."

Nora swallowed nervously. "If you think I'm ready."

"You will be. We just have to go over stocking and scheduling, and hopefully we can catch that if there's a lull today." Todd handed her a key. "That's yours; don't lose it."

Nora couldn't help herself; she broke into a wide grin. "I get a key?"

"What'd you think, I'd be here to open the door every day?" Todd laughed. "Speaking of, why don't you go turn on the sign and open up?"

Nora nodded, a tight knot of excitement building in her stomach. She crossed to the window and flicked on the neon sign, and then she turned to the front door. Laurel was standing on the other side of the glass, and she stared at Nora in surprise. Feeling her excitement threaten to shift into fear, Nora took a deep breath and opened the door.

"What the hell are you doing here this early?" Laurel asked as she breezed inside.

Nora squared her shoulders. "I'm the new assistant manager."

Laurel barked a laugh. "You've got to be joking," she said. When Nora didn't respond, she narrowed her eyes. "You _are_ joking, right?"

Nora shook her head. "Nope. I started today."

Laurel crossed the room and grabbed her apron off a hook on the counter. "Like hell I'm taking orders from you."

Nora's stomach clenched, but before she could figure out how to respond, Todd poked his head around the corner from the back. "Like hell you aren't, Laurel; is there an issue?"

Laurel shot an inscrutable look at Nora and then turned to Todd and smiled. "Not at all," she said, her voice sickly sweet. "I was just surprised is all."

Todd nodded. "Good. I don't want to hear from Nora that you're causing any problems, understood?"

"Wouldn't dream of it," she said. When Todd had gone back into the back, Laurel glared at Nora. "Just like you wouldn't dream of making up stories about me, right?"

"I'd never do that," Nora stammered.

Laurel smiled slowly. "Good. Just so long as we're clear."

Nora wasn't entirely sure what Laurel meant, but she didn't want to push it. The morning was already off to a tense start. _And besides_ , she told herself, _Laurel's not going to do anything stupid._

Still, Nora was nervous, and she went out of her way to be even nicer to Laurel than usual. That wasn't too difficult; they were slammed, so there wasn't a lot of time for the two of them to interact. Nora worked the register for most of the morning while Laurel made the drinks, only stopping when there was a lull for Todd to walk her through more of her managerial duties. There was way more to the job than he'd initially let on, and when Nora finally left at noon, her head was spinning.

She thought about going for a run in the middle of the day, but instead, she headed home and took a nap on the couch. Nora had to be back for the rest of her shift at five that evening, and between a sleepless night worrying about both the new job and her mom, she slept deeply. Carl got home at four and prodded her awake, which was a good thing, since Nora had forgotten to set an alarm. She grabbed an apple as she headed back downtown, crossing her fingers that the evening would go well.

Laurel wasn't on shift anymore when Nora got to the café, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Frank, the guy she was closing with, didn't work that often, so Nora didn't know him very well, but he was quiet and fairly nice, and by the time she and Todd locked up, she was almost feeling confident.

"You did a good job today," Todd offered before he left. "Ready to try it alone tomorrow?"

Nora swallowed, but she said "Sure!"

Todd patted her shoulder. "That's my girl. I knew you'd be a natural at this."

Nora wasn't so sure, but she didn't want to contradict him. Besides, it hadn't been that bad. _What could possibly go wrong without Todd?_

Plenty, it turned out.

First, her key got stuck in the lock when she got there to open up, and she didn't get inside for fifteen minutes. By the time Laurel sauntered in an hour after the store opened, Nora was covered in espresso, the floor behind the counter was slick with melted ice, and a line of angry customers stretched to the door.

"Weren't you scheduled to open?" Nora asked, catching herself narrowly from wiping out on the floor as she turned from the counter back to the register.

Laurel shrugged. "I figured you could handle it. Besides," she added lowering her voice as she tied her apron on, "what are you going to about it?"

Nora gaped at her for a moment. Was Laurel seriously testing her like this? "Nothing, right now. Can you grab register and I'll keep making the drinks?"

Laurel looked like she wanted to argue, but finally she shrugged and dropped it.

Nora quietly fumed as she made the drinks, wondering why Laurel had decided to act like such a bitch. _She's always been that way_ , Nora realized. _Ever since my first day here._ She'd never known why, and she'd always been too shy to ask. But now that Nora was assistant manager, she didn't want to put up with it any more.

Laurel's laugh cut through Nora's thoughts, and she glanced back at the register. Her heart almost stopped when she saw Kingston standing there looking at Laurel with a wide smile on his face. Nora hadn't been back to the running group since the steamy cool down and even hotter dream, and her palms started to sweat seeing him again. Would he recognize her now? _And do I even want him to?_

When Laurel called his order over her shoulder, Nora busied herself with the espresso machine, trying not to notice the way Laurel was flirting with the handsome Texan. The girl was practically laying on the register, thrusting her chest toward him like some ridiculous bird performing a mating dance, and Nora bit her lip. _Surely he isn't the kind of guy who wanted a girl to throw herself at him, is he?_

Finally, another customer coughed loudly, and Kingston gave the man an apologetic smile before moving down the counter. Nora smiled at him when she handed him his drink, but her hand was shaking.

Kingston grinned down at her. "Thanks, hon! Haven't seen you for a few days."

_Does he mean here at the shop, or running?_ "New shift," she finally said, playing it safe. "I got promoted to assistant manager."

His perfect smile stretched even wider. "That's wonderful! Congratulations!"

She beamed at him. "Thank you. It's only my second day," she admitted, "and I've got a lot to learn."

He waved his hand. "You look like you're doing a mighty fine job to me."

Laurel called down the next order, and Nora wished for a moment that she could freeze time and just stand there smiling at Kingston, watching him smile at her. "Thanks," she offered, pushing her glasses up her nose. "I'm trying."

He winked. "Keep it up, hon." With a wave, he headed back out into the city, and Nora stared after him for a moment, watching his broad shoulders. When Laurel called down the same order again, with an edge to her voice this time, Nora gave herself a mental shake and got back to work, but her brain kept turning their encounter over and over. Did he realize she was in the running group? He'd seemed happy to see her, almost like he knew her, but maybe that was just the way he was with everybody. Nora worried it to death, and by the time she went off shift, she'd pretty much forgotten about Laurel's power play that morning, but she was no closer to an answer about Kingston than she had been when she'd been at work. _There's only one way to tell,_ she mused. _No matter how tired I am, I better lace up my running shoes tonight!_

_  
_

### CHAPTER TWELVE

Kingston's heart had started beating fast when he spotted a familiar face behind the counter on his coffee break. He'd mostly been able to keep his thoughts away from her while his parents were in town, mainly because he'd spent his lunch hours with them, catching little glimpses of the city. They'd taken a taxi to the airport that morning, so Kingston had reverted to his old habits, half expecting the illusive barista to still be gone. He'd been pleasantly surprised when he saw her, and he thought she'd seemed happy to see him, too.

He'd been too fixated on seeing her again to realize that he'd forgotten to ask her name until he was three blocks away, and he cursed out loud in frustration. "You can't even remember this one simple thing; how are you ever going to get up the nerve to ask her out?" A few people on the sidewalk gave him the side eye, and he shook himself, wishing he hadn't spoken out loud. Rounding a corner, he considered going back to the coffee shop and asking her once and for all, but just as he made up his mind to do it, his phone rang insistently in his pocket. Even though he'd seen people hurrying along the sidewalks with their phones pressed to their ears, he couldn't quite bring himself to do it. _Too old fashioned to multi-task,_ he thought with a smile as he spotted a metal bench just up the street. Answering the phone, he strode to it rapidly.

"Uncle King?" A small voice asked.

Kingston sat down, looking at the phone in surprise. "Yes. What's up, kiddo?"

"It's Shell." The little boy cleared his throat. "How are you?"

"I'm okay, but Shell, buddy, aren't you supposed to be in school right now?" At seven, Shelton was the older of his two nephews, and he'd been proud to tell Kingston all about first grade when he'd seen the boys over Christmas.

"I stayed home sick," the boy said, "but I'm not really sick."

"Uh-huh. What's wrong, then?"

There was silence on the line, and then Shelton sighed. "Are Mama and Daddy getting a divorce?"

Kingston raised an eyebrow. "Shouldn't you ask them that, buddy?"

"I don't want to make Mama cry."

Kingston's heart clenched. "Has your mom been crying?"

"Yes. She's in the bathroom right now, and I heard her through the door. That's why I called you."

Kingston glanced at the caller I.D. on his phone and realized his nephew had swiped Rachel's phone to call him. "I can't really do anything, buddy. I'm in New York now, remember?"

"Can't you come home, just for a visit?"

Kingston looked around the busy street. "I wish I could," he admitted, "but I've got a job to do here."

"Oh." His nephew was silent. "Will you tell Mama and Daddy not to fight anymore?"

"Let me talk to your mom, okay, buddy?" Kingston wheedled, hoping his nephew wasn't feeling defiant.

He wasn't. "Okay." There was a shuffling sound, and then Rachel's surprised voice came on the line.

"You don't usually call during daylight hours; you okay?"

Kingston leaned his head back against the bench. "I didn't call. Shelton called me."

"What? Shelton Stevenson, you've got some explaining to do!" She hollered, and Kingston cringed.

"Not his fault, Raye. The boy's upset about you and Mark."

She sighed. "I'm upset, too." There was a pause. "King, I think he wants a divorce."

Despite what his nephew had said, the truth shocked Kingston. "Has he said as much?"

"No," she said, drawing out the word, "but Marcy saw him out last night with a leggy redhead." Her voice caught. "That doesn't sound like he's honoring his marital vows to me."

Kingston shook his head. "I'm sorry," he said, not sure what else he could offer.

"Yeah. Lots of sorry going around right now, and it doesn't do anybody any good. What did Shelton say to you?"

"He asked if you were getting a divorce," Kingston told her, and then he added, "and he said you've been crying."

He heard her swallow a sob. "Well, he's observant, I'll give him that."

Remembering his nephew's request, Kingston asked, "Would it help if I came home?"

"What good is that going to do? You can't save my marriage," she said softly.

"No, but do you need any help with the boys? You know I love spending time with them."

Her voice softened. "I know. But I've got it under control. Besides, Mom and Dad are here if we need anything." Changing the subject abruptly, she said, "and the job has daycare."

"You got it? Raye, that's wonderful!"

Her voice almost sounded normal again. "I start in two weeks. It'll be a change, but good Lord, I'm ready for something different."

"I'll take you out to celebrate the next time I'm in town," he offered, beaming. "I'm proud of you, sweetie."

"Thanks, King. That means a lot." Her voice was thick with emotion, and Kingston tried to play it off.

"I'm sure you don't sit around waiting for approval from your baby brother," he teased lightly.

She gave a weak laugh. "No, fair enough. But still, thanks."

"Welcome. Tell the boys they can call me any time they want to talk, and I promise I'll answer."

"Any time _after_ they ask permission to use my phone," she said, raising her voice at the end. Kingston grinned, picturing Shelton hiding around the corner listening to her.

After they said goodbye, Kingston stared at the street for a few minutes, his eyes unseeing. _Divorce_ , he thought, rolling the word around in his mind. _Doesn't Mark realize how lucky he is?_

He didn't know what had gone wrong in his sister's marriage, but the very idea of Raye getting divorced shook him more than he cared to admit. Rachel had always said she'd fallen in love with Mark at first sight, and the couple had seemed happy to Kingston. In fact, they had almost seemed like they had the ideal relationship, from the outside, at least, and hopeless romantic that he was, Kingston had always assumed that whenever he fell in love, it would be a fairy tale kind of thing, just like his sister. _But now it sounds like the fairy tale is ending_ , he thought grimly. _And who's to say it was ever really there in the first place?_

Subdued, he walked back to the office, trying to think of a way to help his nephews and his sister through the rough transition that was headed for them.

### CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Even though she was dead tired, before Nora closed up the coffee shop that night, she tossed back a double espresso, and just before midnight, she headed down to Central Park.

Jerome waved at her when she got there, and Lynne came over to greet her. "Is everything okay with your family?"

Nora nodded. "My mom had a heart attack, but she's okay." She hoped that if she said it enough, she'd convince herself it was true. "She's having surgery soon."

Lynne gave her a quick hug. "I'm glad everything's okay, but man, how scary."

Nora's gut clenched, and she just nodded. "Still," she said, trying to sound chipper, "I'm glad to be back."

"We're glad to have you! Just in time, too; we're ready to start."

Her eyes skimmed the group, but she didn't see the tall frame she'd been looking for. "Are we—are we all here?"

Lynne shrugged. "There were a couple of maybes tonight, so I'm guessing they just aren't coming."

Nora's heart sank, but she tried not to focus on the lack of Kingston's presence as they began to warm up. As had started to be her habit, she was running toward the back of the group, and it wasn't long before her muscles were complaining from lack of use. Slowing her pace, Nora dropped back a little farther, still in sight of the group but no longer running beside anyone. _I really shouldn't have let so many days go by without a run_ , she thought, concentrating on her breathing.

Footsteps sounded behind her, and Nora automatically moved over to the right side of the trail to let whoever it was jog by, but no one passed her. Glancing up, she almost tripped on her sneakers when she saw that Kingston had fallen into step beside her. He caught her eye and grinned.

"Late start," he said, his breath even and unhurried.

She smiled and nodded, but she didn't try to talk. Her heart was beating erratically, and she was pretty sure it wasn't just the exertion from the run. Nora kept waiting for Kingston to pull ahead and run with the front of the group like he usually did, and she was surprised when he kept pace with her for the entire run. She was acutely aware of the sound of his breathing, and her skin prickled from his proximity, making it nearly impossible for her to concentrate. Between the cramp that had started in her left foot and Kingston's warm presence, Nora had what was probably the least focused run of her life, but by the time it was over, she didn't care about the wasted training session.

Smiling up at Kingston as they started stretching out on the grass beside each other, she decided to figure out once and for all if he'd recognized her earlier that day. "It's good to see you," she began, pulling on the top of her foot and folding it toward her tailbone.

He nodded. "We've missed you these last few days, hon."

So maybe he hadn't recognized her. Nora wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing. "My mom had some health troubles, so I went home for a bit."

"Where's home?" He asked, sitting down on the ground and reaching effortlessly for the soles of his shoes.

"Outside Philadelphia. And you're from Texas, right?" She already knew that, from the first time she'd seen him at the coffee shop, but she wanted to test him and see if he really hadn't recognized her there.

"Yup," he smiled. "born and bred with a Stetson on my head!"

She laughed. "So what brought you to New York? A relationship?" It had sure seemed like he was dating that girl she'd seen him with the first time they met, but she wanted to be sure.

"Nope. Work. I had a chance to transfer, and I've always wanted to see what the fuss was all about, so I picked Manhattan." He paused. "And I'm glad I did, because there actually is somebody."

_I knew it_. Nora's heart sank, and she pulled her arm across her chest in a stretch, grateful that the shadows hid her expression. "Oh? Um, what's her name?"

Kingston laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Funny thing is I don't actually know."

"Excuse me?"

"There _is_ a girl I'd like to know better, but I haven't found out her name yet."

_Had he had some random hookup?_ Nora didn't think he was the type, but then again, she realized that all she really knew about Kingston was being close to him made her hyper aware of her entire body in a way she'd never really experienced. "Do I even want to know?"

"It'll probably sound stupid." He sounded almost embarrassed, and even though Nora really didn't want to hear about his mystery girl, she was also decidedly curious.

"Try me," she finally offered, studying him carefully in the shadows.

"Well," he said, "there's this little coffee place I go to sometimes."

He didn't see Nora's startled reaction, and he kept talking.

"There's a girl there who really sparked my interest, but I'm not sure if I should say anything. I'll bet she gets hit on by all kinds of creepy customers, and I don't want to be another one of those guys."

Nora's breath came a little faster as she asked, "What does she look like?" _God, don't let it be Laurel. If he's fallen in love with Laurel, I don't think I could stand it._

He stooped down to tighten his shoelaces. "You'll probably think I'm a loon, but you sort of remind me of her."

Nora's heart skipped a beat before accelerating frantically. She tried to keep her voice neutral. "Really?"

Kingston nodded. "'Cept she wears glasses," he said.

_Oh my god._ A slow smile spread across Nora's face in the darkness. _I think he means me!_ Just as she started to open her mouth, Kingston's next words made her pause.

"She's almost too pretty for words."

_He can't possibly mean me_ , she thought, frantically sifting through the other employees at the coffee shop, trying to remember who else wore glasses. Caity sometimes wore a funky black horn-rimmed pair, without lenses, but Nora wasn't sure if he'd ever been there when Caity was working. _Unless I haven't been there,_ she realized. Finally, she noticed Kingston staring at her expectantly, waiting for her to say something. Nora forced herself to smile. "Well, if you want my opinion, you should talk to her. I wouldn't say no if you asked me out," she added lightly, trying to ignore the way her heart clenched at the words.

Kingston held out his hand to help her off the ground, and when his strong fingers wrapped around hers, Nora's arm tingled with awareness. He let go too fast, though, and she tried to mask her disappointment. "Thanks, hon," he offered, giving her a wide smile. "That helps a man's confidence a bit!"

Before she could say anything else, another one of the runners gestured to Kingston, and with a quick wave, he left Nora standing there beside the path, feeling like her heart had been turned into a ping-pong ball. She watched as he jogged over to the friend who'd summoned him, and then she shook her head with a sigh.

"You shouldn't have gotten your hopes up," she whispered into the darkness. "You knew he couldn't be talking about you."

### CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Kingston was running late; he'd stayed at the office past ten, and he'd barely managed to grab a bite to eat before it was time to head over to the park. For a moment, he considered skipping the run, but he was tense and wound up, and he knew the only thing that would do him any good was slipping on his shoes and pounding the pavement. When he got to the park, however, he realized he was a few minutes late, and he started jogging the usual route, hoping he'd catch up with everybody.

He hadn't seen either Nora or PB in a few days, and even though he tried to tell himself to focus on just one girl, his heart jumped into his throat when he spotted Nora's ponytail bobbing near the back of the group. He pulled up alongside her and gave her a smile, and the grin that spread across her face was a warmer welcome than he'd expected.

Although he loved running with a group, he usually tuned out the other runners around him, letting the collective energy help propel him along when he got tired without stopping to notice the sounds of his running buddies. But for some reason, Kingston was acutely aware of Nora that night. He tuned into her without even trying, noticing that her breathing was a little uneven. For a moment, he considered slowing his pace in case she was trying to match his long strides, but then he realized that would look like he was more focused on her than on the run, and he didn't want her to think that.

Even if it's the truth.

As they ran, his thoughts swirled around, and he tried to make sense of the strange double attraction he was feeling. With PB, it had been an instant jolt; the moment she looked up at him with those big brown eyes, apologizing for jabbing him with her mop, he was a goner. But with Nora, his attraction had started slower; he wasn't even sure what color her eyes were, since he'd only ever seen her in the darkness. But still, he felt an undeniable pull to her every time he saw her, and running beside her was just making that feeling stronger. _It's probably just because she reminds me of PB_ , he told himself as they finished the final lap of their run and started to cool down.

Still, he couldn't deny that there was something comfortable about her that made it easy to be himself. He wasn't naturally shy, but he'd never really known how to talk to women when he was interested in them. For some reason, he didn't seem to have any problem with Nora. _Now if only I were brave enough to talk to PB!_

"Where're you from, hon?" He asked Nora as they stretched out.

"Near Philadelphia," she told him, bending effortlessly toward her extended foot. "What about you? Texas, right?"

He grinned. "Born and bred with a Stetson on my head!" The words sounded corny, and he winced, but her giggle set him at ease again.

"You don't look like a cowboy," she commented, sizing him up.

He pretended to be offended. "What, cowboys can't wear running tights?"

Was he imagining it, or did her gaze linger on his legs a moment longer than necessary? Feeling an initial stirring of desire, he shifted uncomfortably and tried to keep his mind on stretching out his tired muscles. He was so distracted he almost missed what she said, but then he realized she'd asked if he had a girlfriend.

_Should I tell her?_ He debated for a moment. He wasn't always sure how to talk to women, but growing up with Raye _had_ taught him one thing; if he told Nora he was interested in somebody else, he might as well say goodbye to the glimmers of attraction he'd been feeling around her; no girl wanted to be somebody's second choice. But as charming as Nora was, he wasn't ready to give up on the fantasy of PB yet.

Taking he deep breath, he said, "Actually, there is somebody."

As soon as the words were out, his stomach clenched, and Kingston wondered if he'd made the wrong choice, but he pressed on, oblivious of the effect his words had on Nora.

She laughed when he said she reminded him of PB, and her next words gave him a surge of confidence. "If it were me, I'd date you," she said with a smile.

For a moment, Kingston considered forgetting all about PB and going for the beautiful girl sitting on the ground in front of him, and time froze while he pondered on the best way to tell her. But just as he was about to open his mouth, he thought of his sister and her boys, and he clicked his teeth shut. _Sometimes,_ he told himself, _a fantasy is safer than going after something in reality._

As he waved goodnight to Nora, his heart was heavy because he'd realized that no matter how attracted he was to either woman, he wasn't likely to make a move. He hadn't known that the mess with Rachel and Mark was holding him back, but as he turned the key and entered his empty apartment, he realized that he wasn't so sure he believed in fairy tales anymore.

### CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Nora didn't get any sleep after her disappointing conversation with Kingston, and her eyes were bloodshot when she got to Books and Brew the next morning. Luckily, she wasn't opening with Laurel, so there wasn't any added drama at the coffee shop, but when she checked the schedule, she realized with a sigh that Laurel would be there when she came back on for the second half of her shift. _Maybe I can talk to Todd about switching the schedule,_ she thought hopefully. _After all, he did say scheduling would be one of my new duties._

The store hit an unusual lull around ten that morning, and Nora took advantage of the time to look over the schedule binder and see if she could find a way to avoid Laurel as much as possible. There were more employees at Books and Brew than she'd realized, and it seemed like everybody had a complicated list of conflicts that kept the schedule nearly gridlocked the way it was. It looked like the only way Nora could avoid Laurel and her drama was if Todd switched shifts with her, and she didn't think that was something she could ask for yet; she'd only been in the job for a few days. _Better wait at least a month before I pester Todd_ , she told herself, trying not to be too disappointed.

She called home during her break between shifts, and was secretly relieved when her mom answered. _At least that means she's still okay,_ Nora thought with a sigh.

"How are you feeling?" She asked, dodging around a pile of trash on the sidewalk as she walked.

"Fine, sweetie. Just a little bit more tired than usual, that's all. How's the new job?"

Nora grimaced. "Okay, I guess."

"What is it?"

"Nothing, Mom. Just one of the other girls there isn't really happy about my promotion."

Her mom snorted softly. "Then she should have worked harder, if she wanted it."

Nora's steps slowed. It had honestly never occurred to her that Laurel's cruel treatment of her could stem from jealousy. "I guess," she said slowly.

"You're a good worker, Nora. Always have been, and I'm sure the people at that shop have noticed. Well, obviously, your manager noticed. But I'm guessing you make the other girls look bad, even before you got this promotion." Her voice filled with pride. "You've always been so focused."

She wanted to contradict her mom, but thinking back over her time at Books and Brew, Nora wondered if she was right. Other than the few times she'd been late after a run, she was always early for her shift, and she was usually the last barista to leave at night, even before she became assistant manager. "Thanks, Mom," she finally said. "I guess that's her problem then!"

"Darn right!" Her mom started to cough right after she spoke, and the raspy sound made Nora glance at the phone in concern.

"Are you sure you're feeling alright?"

"Don't worry about me, sweetie. Just keep focusing on your work. Are you still running?"

The change of subject didn't surprise Nora; her mom had never liked the focus to be turned on her, even before the heart attack. "Yup," Nora said, smiling wistfully at the thought of Kingston. "I joined a midnight running club, and it's actually a lot of fun."

Nora could almost hear her mom shaking her head. "I'll never understand your definition of fun. Sticking your hands in the dirt is fun. Running? Not so much."

Nora chuckled. "To each her own, I guess."

"Absolutely." There was a pause. "Look, sweetie, I'm sorry to cut you short, but I think I'm going to take a quick nap before your dad gets home."

"Oh. Okay. Give him a hug for me, I guess."

"Of course. Love you."

"You, too, Mom."

When Nora hung up, she stared at the phone in concern. Never in her life had her mother taken a mid-afternoon nap; the woman always seemed to have boundless energy, even though Nora never saw her drink more than one cup of coffee a day. _If she's napping, maybe she really isn't feeling well,_ she thought, chewing on her bottom lip. _Maybe I should take some time off this weekend and go home_.

But her worries about her mom were pushed to the side when she got back to the apartment; a guy she'd never seen before was sitting on the couch, and Nora let out a little scream after she let herself in the door.

"Who are you?" she snapped, wondering if anybody would hear her if she stepped into the hall to call for help.

The guy stood up, unfolding his tall, muscular frame from the sofa and towering over her. "Reggie. I'm sure Carl's mentioned me."

Nora glared at him. "He hasn't said much, actually." _Other than that you broke his heart._

Carl came out of the bathroom and stopped when he saw Nora. "Oh," he said, his voice hesitant, "I forgot you'd be home right now."

Her eyes searched his, but she couldn't tell how he was feeling about seeing Reggie again. "I guess I'm sorry I intruded?"

Carl shook his head. "No, it's not like that at all! Reggie was in town visiting a buddy, and he asked if he could stop by so we could talk."

Reggie moved toward the door. "I was getting ready to leave. It's nice to meet you," he offered to Nora, sticking out his hand.

After a beat, she shook it. "You, too," she said, raising an eyebrow at Carl.

He ignored her. "Call me later, if you want."

Reggie nodded and closed the door behind him.

For a moment, nobody said anything, but Nora finally broke the silence. "Are you getting back together with him?"

Carl shook his head, but he flushed slightly. "No. I don't know. I'm not sure." He paused. "Do you think I should?"

"Carl," she said gently, "I still don't know why you two broke up in the first place; you've barely talked about him since you moved in."

Carl fiddled with the gauge in his left ear. "It's complicated." He paused, and then he shook his head. "No, it's not complicated. He cheated."

Nora moved to hug him, but he pulled back. She patted his arm awkwardly. "I'm sorry. Has he—has he at least apologized?"

Carl nodded. "Today was the first time he'd bothered, but still, he came all the way to New York to say he's sorry." His eyes shone with hope. "That counts for something, right?"

"I thought you said he was visiting a friend?"

Carl rolled his eyes. "I said that because I didn't want to have to explain all this to you with him standing right here. He made the trip just to see me, Nor."

She glanced back at the door. "I'm sorry I chased him away, then."

"It's okay. I'm actually relieved; if you hadn't come home, I might have done something I'd regret later." Carl checked his watch. "Do you have time for a drink before you go back to work?"

Nora laughed. "Carl, it's barely after twelve!"

Carl's smile looked a little sad. "I really need to talk some of this stuff out, and I think I need some liquid courage to do it."

Nora hesitated another moment, but then she linked her arm through his. "Come on," she said, turning toward the door. "Drinks are on me."

The bar on the corner of their street was already open, and Nora was a little surprised to see a handful of people tucked into the booths, but she tried to suspend her judgement as she glanced across the table at Carl. He'd been her best friend for years, but this was really the first time she could remember that he'd been willing to drop his shell and have a heart to heart.

Carl ordered a beer, and Nora opted for a glass of red wine, which she sipped quietly while Carl talked about Reggie.

"I'm pretty sure he might be the one," he admitted. He was on his second beer by that time, but Nora was still nursing her first glass of wine.

"Do you really believe in that?" She asked. "Isn't it kind of like a fairy tale, something to tell kids until they're ready for the real world?"

Carl took another swallow. "If we aren't here to find our match, then what the hell's the point?"

"I don't know. Work. Family. Friends. That kind of thing."

He shook his head. "Admit it," he said, slurring slightly, "you want to believe in the fairy tale as much as I do."

She toyed with the stem of her wine glass. "Yes," she finally said, looking down, "but the thing that scares me is what if it doesn't happen? What if we can't all have a happy ending?"

"Sometimes, I think the only people who get that are the ones who take risks." Carl took a deep breath. "Like risking taking someone back after they've cheated."

"Or telling him you like him, even though he wants someone else," the words slipped out of Nora's mouth before she could stop herself, and Carl looked at her thoughtfully.

"Or that," he finally said. "Who is he?"

Nora shook her head and tried to back pedal. "Hypothetically, I mean."

"You aren't getting out of it that easy." He finished off his beer and leaned forward, his face animated. "Spill, girl."

"We're not talking about me, we're supposed to be talking about you!" She protested.

Carl shook his head. "Talking about you will help me take my mind off Reggie. So, tell me. Who is he?"

Nora sank back in her seat. "Just a guy," she said weakly, but Carl glared at her. "Fine. A guy from the running group."

He barked a laugh. "Girl, I told you! Is he long and lean?" He raised an eyebrow suggestively, and Nora swatted at him across the table.

"I barely know him, okay? I just—", she faltered, "I just think I'd like a chance with him, you know?"

"So why not go for it?"

She sighed. "He's told me he likes somebody else."

Carl winced. "Ouch."

"Yeah. For a minute, I thought he might have meant me, but there's no way."

"Okay, back up. He likes somebody else who might be you?"

Nora nodded, realizing how stupid it all sounded. "I've seen him at the coffee shop, and he said he likes a girl who works at the place where he gets coffee."

Carl's brow puckered. "He told you this at the coffee shop?"

She shook her head. "No, during our run last night."

"Does he know you work at the coffee shop?"

"I don't think so. It's like he hasn't recognized me or something; I guess because we've only run together in the dark?"

Carl snorted. "There are so many better things to do in the dark."

"Hush," Nora said, her skin heating up. "He doesn't even know I exist."

"But he likes some coffee chick. Why do you think it's not you?"

She hesitated. "He did say I sort of remind him of her..."

Carl slapped the table triumphantly. "So maybe it is you!"

Nora frowned. "But he also said she was gorgeous."

"Nora, when will you realize that _you_ are gorgeous?"

She scoffed, but Carl reached across the table and grabbed her hands.

"Look at me. Nora, look at me." She lifted her gaze and met his intent blue eyes. "You are one of the prettiest people I know, and you know what a bitch I can be about beauty."

She laughed, but she still shook her head. "I'm nothing special."

"And that, darling," he said with a sigh, "is part of your charm. You can't see how special you are."

Uncomfortable, Nora pulled her hands away. "You're just saying that because I bought your drinks," she teased, trying to steer the conversation into less serious waters.

Carl raised his empty beer bottle toward her in salute. "For which I thank you." He pulled out his phone. "What time do you have to be at work?"

"Five," she said, taking another sip of her wine. "Did you want another drink, or are you doing okay now?"

"I'm fine, but girl, you better move. It's already four!"

"Shit!" Nora stood up, knocking over what was left of her wine, and Carl scrambled away from the crimson liquid, sliding out of the booth after her. It took Nora thirty minutes on a good day to make it from their apartment to Books and Brew, but she usually left herself an hour; she'd faced a few annoying delays on the subway, and she'd rather arrive with time to spare than end up being late. She gave Carl a quick hug before she bolted out of the bar, heading for the nearest subway station.

The train was late, and she waited on the platform, jiggling her leg. _Come on, come on_ , she thought, glaring at the tracks as if she could make the train appear by wishing for it. Finally, the sleek silver engine pulled up, and Nora bounded into a subway car without waiting for the other passengers to get off.

She kept checking her phone obsessively, and even though she ran all the way from the subway stop to Books and Brew, she was fifteen minutes late for the start of her shift. Laurel was at the register when Nora burst through the door, and the girl looked pointedly at the clock before smiling wickedly at Nora. "Todd," she called out, "Nora's finally here."

Shooting her a dirty look, Nora hung her purse up on a hook and grabbed her apron. Todd came around the corner and crooked his finger at her, and Nora followed him back to the office with a sinking heart.

"Nora, what do you think I'm going to say to you?" He sounded like an angry teacher, and Nora resisted the urge to hang her head in shame.

"That I'm late, but I'm sorry. The train—"

Todd cut her off. "Was it the train last time, too?"

Nora frowned, confused. "Last time?"

"Laurel told me you were a half hour late for the closing shift a few days ago." He tugged on his mustache. "I thought you were ready for the responsibility of this position, but you're seriously making me reconsider that choice."

Nora gaped at him. "I haven't been late! Laurel was late that day; I meant to talk to you about it."

Todd shook his head. "Don't try to turn the blame around on someone else." He paused. "Is being assistant manager still something you want?"

"Yes!" She nodded vigorously. "Really, Todd, I want to do a good job."

He considered her for a moment. "I think you do," he finally said, "but Nora, I have to tell you, one more slip up, and you might be back to just being a barista."

"I won't mess this up. I'm sorry," Nora bit her lip, wishing she'd told Todd about Laurel's tardiness as soon as it happened. _Too late now_ , she admonished herself. _He just thinks I'm lying to cover my own butt._

Todd nodded. "I'm reworking the schedule for next week; how do you feel about mid-shift to close?"

Nora shrugged. "Whatever you want."

"Good. I'm scheduling you and Laurel together all week."

Nora swallowed. "Really?" Trying to find the right words, she finally said, "I think, um, that our personalities clash a little."

Todd raised an eyebrow. "Remember what I said about being a manager? You have to be able to deal with everyone, customers and staff included."

Nora gulped. "Right. Everyone." She forced a smile. "That schedule sounds fine."

### CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Even though talking to Nora about PB had given him a momentary shot of confidence, by the following day, his thoughts had sunk into a nasty snake pit of "what ifs", and instead of indulging in his coffee shop fantasy, Kingston decided it was time to focus on real life. He might not find a fairy tale love, but at least he'd dedicate himself to the things he could control, namely work and running.

He doubled down at the office, working faster than he needed to, and at the next staff meeting, he was surprised when his boss singled him out by giving him some real responsibilities. _No more errand boy,_ he thought with a smile as he shook Mr. Fitz's hand after the meeting.

Deciding to add to his winning streak, he registered early for the half marathon, and renewed his focus at the midnight runs. Nora was still there, and he was still more aware of her presence than he cared to admit, even to himself, but Kingston kept away from her at night, and he avoided the coffee shop during the day.

It should have been lonely, with nothing but work and running to fill his time anymore, but Kingston made good on his promise to Raye to stay in touch more, and most every evening, he called and chatted with his nephews. Sometimes his sister wanted to talk, but most of the time, she answered his questions with monosyllables before passing the phone off to the boys. Kingston wished she'd confide in him about the divorce proceedings, but he didn't want to push her. _She'll tell me in her own time, I guess,_ he reasoned. But he was worried about his big sister, and that Friday, he booked a last-minute flight back to Texas for the weekend.

Rachel met him at the airport with the boys, and Shelton launched himself at Kingston with force that surprised him. Picking him up, Kingston gave him a tight squeeze before turning to his sister.

"How're you?" He asked, draping one arm over her shoulders while still holding onto Shelton with his other hand.

She shrugged, and Kingston realized how tired she looked. "Good enough," she said. "Glad to see you, that's for sure."

Blake, who had been hiding his face against his mother's knees, peeped up at Kingston. "Did you bring us anything from New York?"

Kingston laughed. "Cut right to the chase, boy. I'm glad to see you, too."

Blake hid his face again, and Rachel shook her head. "Greedy little monster."

Kingston smiled. "I don't mind." He dropped his hand to ruffle Blake's hair. "There might be some surprises in my bag, but you'll have to wait until we're back to your house to find out."

They left the airport, Kingston still carrying Shelton and dragging his black roller bag behind them, and Kingston took a deep breath once they got outside. "Ah, nothing like air that won't freeze your lungs."

His nephews giggled at him, and Rachel gave him a small smile. "One more reason I won't be heading to New York any time soon," she said as she unlocked her minivan and got Blake situated in his booster seat.

Kingston deposited his nephew and his bag in the back, and then he grabbed the keys from Rachel. "Let me drive. I've missed it."

"If you crash my car, King, you better be ready to buy me a new one."

He rolled his eyes as he adjusted the driver's seat to accommodate his long legs. "I haven't crashed any cars in over a decade."

"Did you hurt yourself?" Shelton piped up from the backseat, and Kingston glanced in the rearview mirror at his nephew's wide eyes.

"No," he said slowly, "but your mom nearly killed me."

She shook her head, but she was smiling. "I had every right! My first break home from college, and I come home from a night out with my friends to find a crumpled hunk of metal that _used_ to be my car parked on the curb, and you sitting on the hood waiting for me."

He laughed, steering the van into the thick traffic outside the airport. "If looks could kill, I'd be a dead man more times than I care to count." He looked up at the rearview mirror. "Don't ever take anything of your brother's without asking permission first. Roger that, buddy?"

Shelton nodded solemnly, and Kingston drove back to Rachel's house, cheerfully swapping stories with his sister and doing his best to make her laugh. He almost succeeded, too.

### CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The next week was just about as awful as Nora had imagined; working with Laurel day after day really grated on her nerves, but she kept her mouth shut every time Laurel said something snarky, and by some miracle, they both survived the week without killing each other. Kingston hadn't come back to Books and Brew, and Nora kept her distance from him during the nightly runs, although seeing him and not being able to talk to him made her heart ache. Still, it was better that way; she was already more hung up on him than she cared to admit, and Nora knew it was a waste of time and emotion to allow her feelings to deepen. Kingston was still friendly toward her, always greeting her with a wave and a smile, but he didn't pace with her again, and Nora skipped going to the diner after the runs, just in case he opted to hang out.

If things at the midnight run were tense, they were even worse at work. Todd showed up at the coffee shop at odd hours when he wasn't working, and he hovered in the back with the office door open. Nora had the distinct impression that he was keeping an eye on her, and that proved to be true when he pulled her aside the next Thursday with a smile.

"Ready to change shifts again?"

She hesitated. She was desperate to get away from Laurel, but Todd's warning about getting along with everyone rang in her ears. Finally, Nora nodded. "I think I do like mornings a little better," she offered.

"That was my thought. We're bringing on a couple of new kids, and I'll be training them on the mid and closing shifts. You're on your own in the mornings, kiddo."

Nora grinned. "Thanks. I won't let you down."

"I know you won't. Anyone in particular that you'd like to work with?" He offered the drafted schedule to her.

She skimmed it, considering. "Frank and I worked together last week," she said, thinking out loud, "but I don't think I've ever worked with Sam or Josi." She handed the schedule back to him. "Anyone is fine, really."

"I'll put you with Josi on Monday and Wednesday, then." Todd scribbled with his pencil, and then he looked up at Nora. "Do you mind working with Laurel again on Thursday?"

Nora forced a bright smile. "Why would I mind?"

***

Carl wasn't around when she got home, and Nora found a sticky note in the kitchen that made her pause. "Going down to Philly. Tell me I'm not an idiot." She was pretty sure that meant he was going to see Reggie, and her heart tightened for him. After their heart to heart the other week, Carl hadn't said much about Reggie's visit, but Nora could tell he'd been preoccupied; his eyes glazed over sometimes when they were watching T.V. together, and he'd been a lot quieter than his usual, chipper self. Nora shook her head and pulled a carton of leftover Chinese out of the refrigerator. _I hope he doesn't do anything he'll regret_ , she thought as she settled herself in the living room and inhaled her snack.

Still, she kind of admired Carl. It took a lot of guts to put himself out there for love, and she knew that, whatever her reservations about Reggie, Carl was still pretty hung up on him. _What if I were brave enough to take that kind of risk?_ Would Kingston reject her if she tried to tell him how she felt? _You never know if you don't try,_ she thought, feeling a tiny bubble of confidence surge in her. _Maybe tonight, after the run, I'll talk to him._

***

Nora's confidence was shaky when she got to the park, but she was still determined to corner Kingston. She'd spent the entire evening rehearsing what she wanted to say, and she'd decided that after the run would be the best time to open her heart. _After all_ , she reasoned with a shiver of fear, _what's the worst that can happen?_

But fate was against her; Kingston wasn't there that night, even though Nora spent most of the run looking over her shoulder, waiting for him to catch up. _I can try again tomorrow_ , she thought, but then she remembered that she wouldn't be there tomorrow; her mom's surgery was scheduled for early Saturday morning, and she was taking the train home in the afternoon so she'd be there for everything. Todd had given her Friday off without reservation, and Nora already had her train ticket. A little fissure of disappointment rippled through her, but she beat it down. _I'll just have to wait_ , she reasoned, hoping that she could keep her nerve up until she had a chance to see Kingston again.

Carl still wasn't back the next day, and Nora headed to the train station alone. She sent him a quick text, reminding him about the surgery, but she hadn't heard back from him by the time she arrived, and she tried to ignore her disappointment.

Her dad was waiting at the station for her, and Nora brightened when she saw his familiar old station wagon. Slipping into the front seat, she leaned over and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "How're you?"

"Doing pretty good. What about you, sweetie?"

She shrugged. "Okay. Glad to be home with you guys." After a pause, she asked, "How's Mom?"

Her dad grinned. "Right as rain. She's ready to get this surgery over and done with so she can go back to playing with her plants."

Nora laughed. "Hopefully, the recovery time won't take too long."

Her dad maneuvered the car expertly through the crammed city streets. "Doc says it depends, but your mom's determined to have the shortest recovery time on the planet."

Nora relaxed against the seat. "I'm glad she's doing so much better. I'd been worried."

"Nothing to worry about; she had her pre-op today, and they said everything looks good." He gestured cheerfully to the iconic _LOVE_ sculpture on the corner. "Nothing like a little love to make everything better, right?"

Nora laughed, but she felt a sharp twinge in her chest. Her parents had been together for thirty years, and they still seemed completely happy with each other. _Will I ever find somebody I could spend my life with?_ Her thoughts wandered as her dad drove out of the city to the old farmhouse, and Nora was feeling melancholy when they pulled into the drive.

***

It rained through the night, but the clouds had cleared by the time Nora woke up the next morning. She made coffee for herself and her dad, but because of the surgery, her mom didn't have anything to eat or drink. Still, they all sat out on the old wooden porch together, watching the sun come up, each lost in their own quiet thoughts, until finally Nora's mom stood and stretched.

"It's just about time to head to Mercy," she said, smiling at Nora. "I'm glad you're here, sweetie."

Nora stood up and embraced her. "Me, too."

Slugging the rest of his coffee, her dad headed down the porch. "I'll bring the car around; can't have my princesses walking through all that muck!"

As he rounded the corner to the driveway, Nora's mom reached for her hand, and Nora looked at her, surprised.

"If anything happens to me," she said quietly, "I just need you to know that I've never loved anyone more than you and your dad."

Nora shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes at the unexpected declaration. "Mom, everything's going to be fine."

Her mother was silent for a moment, looking out at the yard, her eyes squinting in the hazy morning light. "I know. But I haven't told you enough how wonderful you are, Nora Jane. You are my pride and joy, and that'll always be the truth."

Nora choked up, but she forced a smile as the station wagon pulled into view. "I love you, too, Mom."

The drive to the hospital was silent, and Nora noticed that her dad's fingers were white on the steering wheel. _Are we all more nervous than anyone's letting on?_ She wondered, pushing her glassed up her nose three times before she forced herself to hold her hands in her lap. Instead, she fiddled with her phone, sending another text to Carl before she tried to distract herself by looking at the weather forecast.

When they pulled up to the hospital, her mom insisted on waiting until they parked the car, even though Nora's dad wanted to drop her off at the entrance. He didn't argue, and the family walked through the automatic doors together.

Nora caught a glimpse of familiar blue hair as soon as they were inside, and she stared at Carl stupidly. He beelined for them, wrapping Nora's mom into a tight hug.

She laughed and patted him on the back. "This is a surprise! We haven't seen you in ages!"

Carl smiled as he released her. "Wanted to be here with you all today," he said, slipping an arm around Nora. "Like I told your girl here, you're like family to me."

Nora gave him a quick squeeze, and when her parents were occupied with checking in, she whispered, "What about Reggie?"

Carl shook his head, but his eyes were happy and bright. "Right now, girl, I'm all about you."

"Thank you," she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. "I didn't realize how scared I was until I saw you."

Carl looked down at her. "Your mom is one tough lady, Nora. Everything is going to be okay."

### CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Kingston had more fun than he cared to admit chasing his nephews around the yard that weekend, but it wasn't as easy to get Rachel to open up as he'd hoped. He'd thought being there might make a difference, but she was still tight-lipped on Friday night when he brought up Mark after the boys had gone to bed.

The next night, he decided to try a little harder. Taking over the bedtime routine from his sister, he directed her to take a bath and have a glass of wine.

Instead of protesting like he'd expected, she'd patted his cheek and given him a half-smile. "I can't remember the last time I did something like that."

He scooped Blake up and dangled him upside down for a minute. "Go for it. I'll take care of these hoodlums."

Putting the boys to bed was harder than Kingston had expected, but he managed, and by the time they were sleeping soundly, Rachel had emerged, dressed in yoga pants and a loose T-shirt and still carrying her glass of wine. Kingston grabbed the bottle and joined her on the couch with his own glass.

"So," he began, "what's the news with you and Mark?"

She frowned and took a swallow. "We've started the paperwork process. Luckily it's a no-fault state; I'd hate to think what kind of fight would ensue trying to pin the blame on one or the other of us for this mess."

Kingston hesitated. "Is it his fault?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Who's side are you on?"

He lifted his hands quickly. "I just...I'm trying to figure out what happened. You guys always seemed so good."

She shrugged, but tears filled her eyes. "Good can go bad, I guess."

"Is there somebody else?"

"For me?" Rachel shook her head. "No. Not yet, anyway. But I'm not going to stay off the market forever...unless you think I should?"

Kingston was surprised; Rachel rarely asked his advice on anything. "I think you need to do whatever feels right."

She took another swallow of wine. "It's just so hard, you know? It's like all these years, this whole life has been a lie. And now I don't know what's real anymore."

"The boys are real. And you're real, Raye."

She leaned her head on his shoulder. "Sometimes, I wish it were just a dream."

"I wish I could do something."

She glanced up at him. "I appreciate you coming out here," she said slowly, her eyes searching his, "but I've gotta tell you, King, I've got a feeling you aren't just here for me."

He refilled his glass. "What do you mean?"

"Come on. You spontaneously decide to jet back to Texas for a weekend, just to see me and the boys?" She raised her eyebrow at him. "What are you running from; work or a woman?"

Kingston took a huge gulp of his wine, barely tasting it. "You know I love my job."

"Then it's a woman." Rachel was quiet for a moment. "Is she good enough for you, little brother?"

He shook his head ruefully. "Doesn't even know I exist." He paused, considering how much to share with his sister. "And then there's this other girl..."

Rachel sat up, crossing her legs underneath her as she turned to face him. "Okay. Spill. Now."

Kingston laughed. "That's what it takes to perk you up? My girl problems?"

"Hush. Maybe I can help."

He looked down at his wineglass. "The first girl, the one who doesn't know I exist, well, she's a barista."

"Coffee can be good," Rachel offered. "Easy conversation starter."

Kingston smiled. "We've had a few conversations here and there, but, well, I can't quite bring myself to ask her name. What if she thinks I'm some kind of creepy stalker customer?"

Rachel eyed him critically. "Are you being a creepy stalker customer?"

He hung his head. "Yeah," he admitted. "At least, until this week; I pretty much stopped going to the coffee shop."

"How come?"

"Because—" he stopped himself before he told her that her divorce was one of the things that was making him second guess his attraction to PB. "Just because I wanted a break, I guess," he finished lamely.

"Okay. So what about girl number two? Please tell me you at least know this one's name."

Kingston grinned despite himself. "Yeah. Her name is Nora." He paused, remembering the last run he'd been on before heading to Texas. "She's in my running group."

"Something in common," his sister quipped. "Sounds promising. What do you like about her?"

"Well," he rubbed the back of his neck, "I think I first noticed her because she reminded me of PB."

"What?"

He flushed. "I've taken to calling the coffee girl PB...you know, 'pretty barista'."

His sister burst out laughing. "You are pathetic, you know that?"

Kingston shrugged, but then he cracked a smile. "It's pretty stupid, isn't it?"

She giggled. "Yeah, but then again, it's also kind of sweet. So, Nora reminds you of the other girl, who you haven't talked to...but you've talked to Nora, I'm guessing?"

He nodded. "We chat after the runs some nights."

Rachel studied his face. "What's holding you back?"

"What, other than the fact that I can't decide which of them I'm hung up on?"

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Yes, other than that. Why aren't you just going for one of them?"

Kingston shrugged. "I don't know how long I'll be at the New York office," he said, searching for a plausible excuse for his fear. "There's no reason to start something, right?"

Rachel shook her head and drained her wine glass. "Wrong. There's no reason to waste any time wondering," she said, her eyes serious and sad. "Even if it doesn't work out, you can't just pretend you aren't lonely."

"But is it worth it at the other end? The pain, I mean?" He asked, studying her face.

She hesitated for a moment, but then she nodded. "I wouldn't trade a minute of it. Well, I'd sure as hell trade this divorce if I could, but I can't. But when it was good, it was really good." She interlaced her fingers through Kingston's and gave a gentle squeeze. "You should go for it."

"Which one?"

"Does it matter? Just pick the girl you can't stop thinking about, and take a chance. The worst that can happen is she'll say no, and then at least you'll know, right?"

Kingston nodded, thinking about it. "Maybe I'll have a cup of coffee when I get back to New York," he said thoughtfully.

Rachel grinned. "Go get her, tiger. Just make sure you find out her name before you ask her to marry you!"

### CHAPTER NINETEEN

Everything was not okay.

Nora listened, numbly, as the doctor explained that statistically, three percent of every open heart surgery led to a stroke, but that only one percent of all the surgeries resulted in death on the operating table. The surgeon's eyes were rimmed with red, and the woman sat with Nora and her dad a long time, but Nora barely noticed. Finally, the doctor got to her feet with a sigh and told them to take as much time as they needed in the windowless, private room before she turned and headed back into the hospital.

Alone with her dad, Nora sank back in the hard chair and squeezed her eyes shut. _This isn't happening. I must be asleep._ But when her eyes fluttered open, the first thing she saw was her father's hunched form beside her. His shoulders were drawn up to his ears, and he was leaning forward, staring blankly at his clasped hands.

Nora fiddled with the small diamond ring on her right hand. Just before going into surgery, her mom had slipped off her wedding ring and handed it to Nora. "Keep this safe for me, sweetie," she'd whispered with a smile and a quick hug. Now, Nora turned the band again and again, not knowing what else to do. She glanced at her dad again, hoping he would take charge of the situation, but he looked like an empty shell, and Nora realized they would both probably sit there forever if one of them didn't say something.

Taking a deep breath, Nora gently touched her dad's hand. He clasped his fingers through hers without looking at her. "Daddy," she finally said, "we need to take care of things."

He nodded slowly, his eyes still staring at nothing. "Marigolds."

Nora looked at him. "What?"

Her dad cleared his throat and finally lifted his eyes to her face. "She loved marigolds. We should—we should make sure there are some at the funeral." His face scrunched up, and silent tears began to stream down his cheeks. Nora's heart cracked as she leaned forward to hug him, but she didn't cry. _I can't breakdown yet_ , she thought as she clung to her father. _He needs me to keep it together._

Carl was waiting for them in the hallway outside the private room, and when Nora opened her mouth, he just shook his head and pulled her into a rough hug. She clung to him for a second, but then she glanced back at her dad. His tears had stopped, but he still looked hollowed out, his vacant eyes drifting lazily around the busy hospital without seeing anything. "Dad," she said, "let's go home."

***

The next few days passed in a blur of condolence cards and casseroles. It seemed like everyone in town had stopped by with something for them to eat, and Nora dished everything into single serving containers, labeled it all, and froze most of it. _At least Dad won't starve_ , she thought grimly as she portioned off another pan of lasagna.

There were other things to be dealt with, too, and Nora handled most of them. She didn't want to bother her dad, and since his shell-shocked expression hadn't really changed after they left the hospital, a part of her worried that asking him for help would cause him even more pain. Carl stuck around, and Nora was grateful for his help. She'd never realized how much there was to do to plan for a funeral before.

_Funeral_. It was such a grim word, such a depressing word. Nora wished they were Irish; then they could just call it a wake and be done with it. _Don't the Irish celebrate with food and stories, rather than organ music and a melancholy viewing?_ Still, Nora wasn't about to rock the boat; she'd found her mom's will in the filing cabinet in the den, and Nora was determined to follow her requests to the letter. That meant an open casket viewing, followed by a funeral and a walk to the grave site the next day.

Carl was the one who suggested she email the running group and ask them to come, but Nora didn't want to impose. Still, she emailed Lynne and let her know what had happened, giving her the date and place of the funeral, but she wasn't really expecting more than a couple of condolence notes from the group. That Friday morning, Nora was surprised to see a clump of familiar faces dressed in somber colors waiting outside the doors to the funeral home when she pulled up with her dad and Carl. Kingston was there, Nora noticed, but even the sight of his face didn't pierce her numbness.

Lynne came up to her and opened her arms, and Nora gave the woman a quick hug. "I didn't expect you all to make the trip; thank you."

Lynne nodded. "This isn't something you should have to deal with alone."

Tears welled up in Nora's eyes for the first time since her mother's death, and she took a deep breath, forcing herself to keep it together just a little bit longer. "It means a lot to me."

"You'd do the same for any of us."

That simple statement left Nora speechless. _Would I?_ She thought as she hugged each of the runners as they filed into seats. _Yes, I think I would. That's what friends do, isn't it?_

Kingston was at the back of the line, and Nora looked at the floor for a moment before she lifted her eyes to his. Her heart started to thump a little faster, and Nora tried to ignore the impulse to throw her arms around him and never let go. Instead, she reached up and gave him a quick hug, but when she pulled away, his expression looked tense. Before she could say anything, Carl appeared at her side and tugged on her hand. She glanced at the front of the room and realized the minister was about to begin, and with an apologetic smile at Kingston, she followed Carl to the empty chairs waiting beside her dad in the first row.

Nora tugged on the bottom of her skirt and crossed and uncrossed her legs. She'd dressed carefully that morning, wearing a navy blue dress she'd bought in town the day before. Over it, she'd layered one of her mom's crocheted cardigans that she'd found in her parents' closet, wanting something that could make her feel closer to her. She'd resisted the urge to slick her hair back into a pony tail, instead letting the waves hang loose around her face. _Mom always said it was important to look nice_ , Nora thought, a lump filling her throat as her eyes focused on the casket.

She didn't remember anything the minister said during the funeral, and before she knew it, they were all walking across the street to the small, fenced-in graveyard. Carl was one of the pall bearers, as was her father, so Nora had to make the walk alone. Even though the morning had been clear, it was still bitterly cold, and Nora's feet crunched over the frozen ground as she made her way to the gravesite. A couple of times, she glanced behind her, searching the guests for Kingston, but it seemed like everyone in town was there, and she didn't see him over the crowd.

The freshly-dug grave gaped like an open wound, and Nora stood with her toes almost on the edge of the hole. As the coffin was slowly lowered down into the earth with a mechanical whir, Nora felt the dam crack that had been holding back her tears, but she struggled to maintain her composure. Leaning forward, she dropped a perfect orange marigold blossom into the grave, but her throat caught around the words she'd wanted to say, so she just stood there in silence while the other guests dropped their flowers into the earth. A few people were weeping, but Nora forced her tears to wait. _Just keep it together a little bit longer_ , she begged herself.

Kingston approached the grave with a flower, and Nora stood up a little straighter. After he dropped the offering, he turned toward her. Nora opened her mouth, not sure what she was going to say, but he just gave her a tight nod before he turned and walked away. Her heart deflated, and her eyes followed him. _What was all that about?_ She wanted to hurry after him, to tell him how much it meant that he was there, but before she could work up the nerve, Carl wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug.

"You doing okay, girl?" He asked quietly.

Nora took a shuddering breath. "No."

"Honesty's the best policy." There were tears in his eyes when he pulled away, and Nora felt her own tears bubbling up in response.

"She's—she's gone," she stuttered, finally giving into her grief as tears started to pour down her face.

Wordlessly, Carl pulled her into another embrace, and Nora broke. She sobbed against his chest until she felt like a sponge that had been left out in the sun to dry, and then, hiccupping, lifted her face.

"What would I do without you?"

Carl gave her a weak smile. "Same thing I'd do without you; nothing good."

Nora kissed his cheek and took a deep breath. "Thank you for being here. I don't think I could have got through all this alone."

He pressed his lips to her forehead. "I'm sorry you had to go through this at all."

They broke apart, but Nora hung onto his arm as they walked away from the grave. At the gate of the graveyard, her eyes spotted a familiar, tall form in a charcoal suit, and her steps quickened without her planning it. Carl followed her eyes and tipped his head toward Kingston.

"Is that the guy?"

Nora lifted her hand to wave, hoping that he'd wait for her, but Kingston turned and walked away. Nora's hand fell limply to her side. "Yes. But he's acting so strange today. I don't know what I did."

"He came all the way out here for you, though, sweetie. That's got to count for something."

Nora hesitated, but then she looked up at Carl. "You really think?"

"I really do. And besides, funerals aren't exactly fun. He probably doesn't know how to act, so that's why he's being weird."

Feeling guilty, Nora looked back over her shoulder at her mother's grave. "This really should be the last thing on my mind."

Carl stopped and looked at her. "You know she'd want you to keep living your life, Nora. That's the best gift you can give her right now."

Nora nodded slowly. "I think maybe you're right."

Carl flashed a grin. "I'm always right. Now, didn't you say there's more lasagna back at your house than anyone can eat? Let's find your dad and go have some lunch."

Nora forced a smile. It felt strange to be discussing normal, everyday things like food, but Carl was right: she wasn't through mourning, but she also wasn't ready to stop living.

### CHAPTER TWENTY

God, he felt like an idiot.

When he'd rejoined the midnight runners after his trip to Texas, Nora hadn't been there, but Kingston had been too busy plotting out what he wanted to say to PB the next time he saw her that he hadn't really noticed. And then, the next night, when Lynne told the group in a low voice that Nora wouldn't be back for a while because she was in Pennsylvania, dealing with the loss of her mother, Kingston's heart had ached a bit. He'd approached Lynne to see if she had any ideas of things they could do to offer Nora a bit of comfort or support, and she'd surprised him by telling him that she was planning to go down for the funeral. Kingston immediately agreed to go, but now he wished he hadn't bothered.

When he spotted Nora at the funeral home, somber but still so sweet, he'd done a double-take. Gone was the runner with the slicked back ponytail he'd gotten used to; soft brown hair hung around her face in waves, and Kingston realized with a jolt that there was a perfectly good reason the girl had reminded him of PB...they were one and the same. He'd given her a hug before the funeral, but he'd barely had a chance to process his realization when he was hit with another bomb.

The girl he'd been obsessed with for weeks was already taken.

Kingston didn't think much of the other guy, either; spikey blue hair and piercings were things to play with in high school or never, in his opinion, but Nora seemed totally smitten with the stranger. She clung to his hand through the service, and later, at the gravesite, Kingston watched her come completely unraveled in another man's arms.

And good Lord, it hurt.

He returned to New York feeling angry, betrayed, and ridiculously depressed. _How could she do that to me?_ He wasn't sure what was worse; that she'd strung him along when he started talking about the barista, or that she'd been with somebody all this time and he'd never even had a chance.

_That's what you get for believing in love at first sight_ , he told himself firmly when he was back at the office. _Never again,_ he vowed, throwing himself into his work with deliberate focus. He reasoned that if he filled his head with figures and profit margins, there wouldn't be any room left for Nora.

He was wrong, but it didn't matter. Even if he couldn't shake her from his thoughts, he resolved that he could at least cut her from his life. _There have to be plenty of places in New York to buy a decent cup of coffee without getting your heart broken in the process._

### CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Nora stayed with her dad for another week, but day by day, the shock that had been with him since the hospital began to wear off, and he almost seemed like his old self again. There wasn't a lot to do at the farmhouse, other than clean a bit; she and her dad had decided they would postpone sorting through her mother's things until the summer. Nora figured he still felt too raw to go through that, and she wasn't sure she was ready to sift through clothes and jewelry, either; sorting her mom's things and figuring what to keep and what to get rid of felt too personal, too final, and Nora was glad to wait. Finally, her dad insisted that she go back to New York, and even though she felt a pang of guilt over leaving him alone, she had to admit that she'd been missing her life.

Her dad dropped her off at the train station, and Nora clung to him a minute longer than usual. "You're sure that you're okay?" She asked, looking intently into his eyes.

He nodded. "Every day gets a little better." He paused. "I miss her, peanut, but I can't just curl up and die. Marjorie wouldn't want to think that either of us let her death get in the way of our living."

Nora nodded, wiping a tear away. "I know. Carl said the same thing at the funeral."

"That's a good friend you've got there," her dad said fondly. "I'm glad you've got somebody you can rely on."

"I just wish I didn't live so far away."

He shrugged. "Don't worry about me, kiddo. I'll keep trucking along, doing what I've always done." He winked at her. "Maybe I'll finally learn to cook."

Nora laughed. "You've got enough leftovers in the freezer to last awhile, but I think that's probably a good idea." She leaned up and kissed his cheek. "I love you, daddy."

"Love you too, peanut. Now, get back to work!" He gave her one last squeeze, and when Nora boarded the train, she took a seat by the window facing the platform and waved until her dad was out of sight.

Life settled into a dull rhythm after that. Nora started to get the hang of managing Books and Brew, and although Laurel was still nasty whenever they had to work together, she didn't come in late or pull any other stupid stuff, and Nora wondered idly if the other girl had put their fight on hold to allow Nora time to grieve. Secretly, she wasn't sure the grieving would ever stop; she wasn't overwhelmed with tears again like she'd been at the funeral, but sometimes Nora would look up from what she was doing at odd moments and suddenly remember that there was a hole in her heart.

She kept running, growing closer to the members of the group who'd come to her mom's funeral, but the midnight runs weren't as fun as before. Kingston had stopped showing up, and although Nora wanted to ask Lynne if she knew what had happened to him, she couldn't quite work up the nerve. Still, training for the half marathon every night and spending most of her waking hours at the coffee shop kept Nora busy, and as long as she was busy, at least it felt like she was living her life. She'd almost convinced herself that she _was_ living, but deep down, a little voice whispered that she was just in a holding pattern.

After a month had passed, the sharp winter weather slowly started to give way to spring, and Nora signed up to run the New York Half Marathon the very last day that registration was open. A few of the other members of the midnight running group had signed up ages ago, and Nora was excited to see them that night and let them know that she was going to do it, too. She watched the clock the entire time she was at Books and Brew, counting down the hours until she could share her news with people who would understand how much it meant to her, and because she was so distracted, she didn't notice when Kingston walked in.

He cleared his throat at the counter, and Nora pulled her eyes away from the clock, a customer service smile plastered on her face. Her smile slipped when she saw the Texan, though, and her heart started to pound. She hadn't seen him since her mom's funeral, and she hadn't admitted to herself until that moment how much she missed him.

"Haven't seen you in a long time," she said, the words popping out before she could think.

He nodded, but instead of his familiar smile, his face was politely blank. "I need to know something," he said without preamble.

Nora shifted forward nervously. "Okay."

"Were you planning on letting me keep making a fool of myself on the runs, or were you ever going to tell me?"

Her eyebrows drew together. "Tell you what?"

He rolled his eyes. "Nora, you let me go on and on about you, and you didn't say anything. I feel like an idiot!"

Her thoughts raced to keep up. _Does he mean that I was the girl he was talking about?_ Her breath caught, and she started to smile. "But...I didn't know you meant me!"

"How could you not? I even said you reminded me of her." He shook his head, his expression stiff.

Nora bit her lip. "I wasn't sure—" she stuttered. "I mean, why would someone like you be interested in me?"

"But then to find out that you were probably laughing at me the whole time," he said, his eyes sparking, "that's what really hurts."

Nora shook her head. "I wasn't laughing at you," she said softly, "I just couldn't find a way to tell you."

He looked past her at the menu. "It doesn't matter. I'll just have a coffee, to go."

Confused, Nora rang him up. "But now that you know it's me---did you—I mean—" she floundered, trying to figure out if he still thought about her at all.

Kingston took the cup she offered and handed her a crisp ten dollar bill. "Keep the change," he said, his voice brittle. "And I hope you two will be happy."

"You two?" She echoed, more confused than ever, but he had already walked out of the shop.

Her impulse was to run after him, to grab him on the sidewalk and figure out what he was saying once and for all, but she had a line of customers waiting, and Laurel was still on her break. For a moment, Nora bit her lip, hemming and hawing, but finally, she turned to the next person in line and rang him up methodically. _What the hell just happened?_

Her strange conversation with Kingston was still on her mind when, hours later, she made it to Central Park for her nightly run. Walking up to Lynne before things got started, Nora pushed her self-consciousness away and asked, "Do you know what happened to Kingston?"

Lynne paused. "He said he found another training group," she said finally. After a moment, she added, "I sort of got the impression there was something going on with the two of you."

Nora was so startled she laughed. "I wish!" She blurted out.

Lynne studied her face. "He sure seemed upset when he saw you with that guy."

"What guy?" Had he seen her talking to Todd at work or something?

"At your mom's funeral. The guy with the piercings."

It took Nora a moment to process the words, but when she did, her jaw dropped. "You mean Carl?"

Lynne shrugged. "I don't think I was introduced to him that day."

Nora shook her head, astonished. "But he's...Carl's my roommate," she finally said. "There's nothing going on between us."

Lynne cocked her eyebrow. "Not my business if there is." She hesitated. "Seriously?"

"He's been my best friend since high school," Nora said, "but Lynne, he's not even straight! Was Kingston actually jealous?"

Lynne held up her hands. "I don't know what's going on; I'm just telling you what it seemed like to me." She tapped the side of her head. "I usually have a pretty good intuition about relationships," she said, but then added with a rueful smile, "other than my own, that is."

"And you really thought Kingston and I might have been together?"

Lynne studied her in the dark. "Is that so impossible to believe? You just said that you liked him."

Nora shrugged, embarrassed. "But there's no way he even knew I existed."

"That's not what it looked like to me, Nora."

Nora stewed on Lynne's revelations the whole time they ran. It was hard for her to believe that the girl Kingston had told her about had been her, but Lynne seemed pretty sure of herself. Nora stumbled, almost wiping out on the asphalt, but even as she caught her balance, she didn't pull her thoughts away from the mess she'd made of things. First, she'd totally misread Kingston's signals, and then she'd made him think she was just toying with him. True, Carl had been with her most of the day at the funeral, and she remembered embracing him beside the grave when her tears threatened to break her, but how could Kingston have thought they were a couple? _What's even worse is the fact that he WAS talking about me all along, and I was too dumb to see it_.

Sweaty and angry with herself, Nora finished up the run in silence. Part of her wanted to ask Lynne if she knew a way to get in touch with Kingston, but another part of her felt like that would be too desperate. _You had your chance, and you screwed it up._ Dejected, she made it halfway back to her apartment before she realized that she hadn't told the group about signing up for the marathon. The earlier excitement she'd felt had been replaced by an uncomfortable knot in her stomach, and Nora started thinking about calling in sick to work and staying home with her head under the covers. _I wish I could talk to Mom about this mess_ , she thought as she turned her key in the door and let herself into the dark apartment.

A wave of loss washed over her, and Nora squeezed her eyes shut. "Mom," she whispered, "I miss you so much." The empty room didn't answer, and, limbs suddenly leaden, Nora laid down on the couch. She didn't want to make the effort to go to her room, and she felt the old cushions sag under her weight as she closed her eyes. That night, her dreams were a jumbled swirl of regrets and broken wishes, and Nora woke up with tears on her cheeks.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Kingston kept training, but with his longer hours at work, he didn't always make it to his new running group each day. He thought about going back to the midnight runners time and again, but after his encounter with Nora at the coffee shop, he didn't want to risk running into her. Her eyes had looked hurt when he'd finally confronted her, but Kingston tried not to dwell on the way his heart clenched when she looked at him that way. Seeing her again had been a mistake, so even though he probably would have gotten more training if he'd swallowed his pride and gone back to the group, he wasn't ready to see Nora again.

Carrie must have noticed the change in his demeanor, because she started badgering him to go out for lunch again, until finally, one day, Kingston decided to put a stop to it.

"You're a nice lady, Carrie," he said, leaning over the receptionist's desk and smiling down at her. "But you might as well stop asking."

She started at him, her mouth hanging open. "But I—"

"I don't date women I work with." He said, giving her an apologetic shrug. "And since neither of us has any plans to move on, well..." he trailed off. "I hope we can be still be friends."

Carrie stared at him for a moment, and finally the blond shook her head incredulously. "You know, I think that's the most polite brush off I've ever gotten."

Kingston frowned. "I'm not trying to brush you off. I just don't think work relationships are a good idea."

"You've got a point," Carrie said, but then she lowered her voice and leaned forward with a seductive smile. "But what about being friends with benefits?"

Kingston couldn't help himself; he laughed out loud at the suggestion. "Not my style," he said. "Although you are lovely," he assured her when he saw her crushed expression.

"I'll never understand men," she grumbled under her breath, turning back to her computer and beginning to type away, effectively dismissing him.

"We aren't too good at figuring you all out, either," Kingston said with a chuckle as he headed back to his cubicle.

Things fell into a predictable rhythm after that; Kingston ran whenever he could, worked harder than usual, and, slowly, he found he was thinking about Nora less with each passing day. He'd avoided calling his sister after the mess with the funeral because he didn't want her to press him about the things he'd confessed while he was back in Texas, but guilt finally got the better of him, and he called her one Friday night to check in.

He was surprised when his mother answered the phone, and he double checked to make sure he'd dialed the right number. "Where's Raye?"

"Kingston, is that you? How are you, sweetie?"

He sat down on his sofa. "Fine, Mom. Is everything okay?"

She laughed. "Of course everything's fine. Why do you ask?"

"What are you doing with Raye's phone?"

"Oh, that. I'm over here babysitting tonight, and she was in the shower when the phone rang, so I figured I should answer it."

Kingston tried to keep up. "Is she there now?"

"Let me check." There was silence for a moment, and then his sister's voice came on the line.

"Hi, stranger."

He winced. "Sorry I haven't been better about calling."

"It's okay. But make sure you talk to the boys before you go."

"Of course." He paused. "You okay? What's Mom doing over there?"

She was quiet for a minute. "She's babysitting," Rachel finally said slowly.

"I got that much. Where are you going?"

"Promise you won't be mad?"

Kingston glanced at the phone. "Why would I be mad?"

Rachel exhaled loudly. "Well," she said, "I've got a date."

It was like he'd fallen into an alternate universe, and Kingston shook his head. "You what?"

"A date, King. Surely you remember what that is?"

"But what about Mark?" As soon as he said it, he felt like an ass. "Raye, I'm sorry—"

"No, it's okay. I forgot I haven't told you. The divorce is almost final."

Kingston raised an eyebrow. "That was fast."

He could almost hear his sister shrug. "We agreed on the terms pretty easily; I guess we were both ready to move on with our lives. Thank God it wasn't some long, drawn out fight. I don't think the boys would have survived that."

"But back to this date. Who's the guy?"

Rachel giggled softly, and she almost sounded like a teenager again. "Josh. I met him when I was on assignment for the paper."

"He's somebody you interviewed?"

"No, he's a reporter. He works for my competition."

Kingston rubbed his forehead. "You're insane, you know that?"

"Am I?" Her voice suddenly cracked. "King, is this a bad idea?"

He wanted to tell her that he hadn't even met the guy, or caution her about falling too fast before she had time to really heal, but she sounded happier than she had in months, so Kingston closed his eyes. "If you're happy, it's never a bad idea."

"I _want_ to be happy," she said quietly, "and Josh makes me laugh."

"Then that's good enough for me."

"When are you coming home to visit? I want to introduce the two of you."

Kingston shrugged. "Actually, I was thinking I might see about transferring back. New York has lost some of its appeal."

Rachel was silent for a moment. "I'm going to call tomorrow so you can fill me in on exactly what you mean, but right now, I've got to finish getting ready." She paused. "You okay, though?"

He thought about it for a moment, and finally shrugged. "I'm getting by. Have fun tonight."

"I will," she said. "And King?"

"Yeah?"

"It'll all work out. You've got to keep believing that."

### CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Despite Nora's grief, spring finally came, and with it, the New York City Half Marathon. The night before the race, Nora skipped her midnight run. She wanted to make sure she got as much rest as possible before the big day, but she was too keyed up to fall asleep. Finally, she gave up and took a long, hot shower, giving herself a mental pep-talk as the water caressed her skin.

Slicking her hair back with determination, Nora leaned toward the steamy mirror. "You can do this," she said to her reflection, "you're ready for this."

When she emerged from the shower, Carl was standing in the kitchen. He grinned at her and held out a thermos of coffee. "Go get 'em, tiger!"

She laughed, taking a sip of the coffee. "Thanks," she said, but after a moment, she passed the coffee back to him. Her stomach was too jittery to dump caffeine on top of it, and Nora grabbed her water bottle instead. "Do you think you'll be at the finish line?"

He grinned. "Wouldn't miss it for the world. When should I be there?"

The race had a rolling start, and Nora had signed up for the first group at six am. "I'm hoping to run it in two hours, or as close to that as I can get." She pulled her ponytail tighter. "I don't know if I'll be that fast, though, since it's my first time."

"Then I'll be there waiting at eight. You've got this, girl."

Nora gave him a quick hug. "Thank you," she said, trying to force a smile despite the way her stomach was jumping around.

Just then, her phone buzzed, and she looked at it for a minute before answering. _Who would call me this early?_

"Nora, it's Todd."

Her stomach flip-flopped. An early call from her boss couldn't be good, but she tried to keep her tone neutral. "What's up, Todd?"

"I need you to open the store today. I'm dealing with a family problem, and I have no idea when I'll get there."

Her stomach felt like lead. "Todd, I want to help, but it's the half marathon today."

"Just open the store and wait for Laurel to show up; don't worry about working a full shift," he offered hurriedly. "Can you do that for me?"

She took a deep breath. _If Laurel's on time, I should still be able to make my start time._ "Sure," she finally said, crossing her fingers and hoping she wouldn't miss the marathon. "I got this." After a pause, she added, "And I'm sorry about whatever's going on. I hope everything is okay."

"Thanks," he said, his voice tight. "Me, too."

Nora hung up the phone and looked at Carl. "I have to open Books and Brew."

He groaned. "But what about the race?"

"I should still be okay," she said, trying to make herself believe it. "But I better change; no one wants to see a store manager in spandex."

Carl frowned and pointed to the clock. "You won't have time," he said. "Just take a spare pair of shoes; you don't want to coat your Nikes with flavored syrup for good luck."

She laughed. "Good point," she called over her shoulder as she rushed into her room and changed into her plain black work shoes. Tying the laces of her running shoes together, she slung them over her shoulder and grabbed her keys and her phone. "Wish me luck!" She said as she headed out the door.

Carl waved after her. "You won't need luck. I'll see you at the finish line!"

Nora hurried across town, thankful that the train was on-time, and when she made it to the coffee shop, she dropped her shoes in the back and went through all of the opening manager's duties on autopilot. Laurel showed up right at five thirty, but she glared at Nora when she spotted her behind the counter.

"What are you doing here?"

Nora glanced at the clock and pulled her apron off. "Leaving. Todd had an emergency, so I opened up for him, but now I've got to go or I'll miss the start of the half marathon."

Laurel frowned and shook her head. "That's not fair! How am I supposed to handle the opening crowd alone?"

Before Nora could say anything, someone pounded on the delivery door in the back, and Nora hurried to answer it, glancing at the clock as she went. "I'll take care of this," she called over her shoulder to Laurel, "but then I've really got to go."

When Nora opened the back door, an unfamiliar delivery driver was standing there, staring at his clipboard. "Books and Brew, right?" He asked, barely looking at her.

Nora nodded. "I'll sign for it." Reaching for the clipboard, she barely skimmed the order before signing off. "You know where it goes?"

He shook his head. "First day on this route."

Nora sighed heavily, but she propped the door open and led him through the back to the freezer and rapidly explained the shelving system before leaving him alone to unload.

Poking her head around the front, she saw that Laurel was slammed with customers, but Nora tried not to feel guilty. "Delivery guy's here," she called, "so shut the back door when you get a chance."

Laurel shot her a dirty look, but she didn't say anything as Nora hurried to the back to grab her shoes. _If I take a cab to Central Park, I might still make it,_ she thought, reaching for the shelf where she'd left her shoes.

Her fingers brushed against Laurel's purse, but there weren't any shoes on the shelf. _Did they fall?_ Nora wondered, squatting down and looking under the shelf, but she didn't see the familiar neon laces.

"All done," the delivery guy called from behind her, but Nora was too distracted to do more than wave at him. Her eyes skimmed every surface in the breakroom, and her heart started to pound. Her shoes were nowhere in sight.

Suddenly, it dawned on her. _Laurel_ , she thought, marching back to the front of the store with determination. "What happened to my shoes?"

Laurel ignored her as she rang up another customer, and Nora clenched her fists.

"Laurel, this isn't funny. I'm already late; would you just tell me what you did with my shoes?"

Laurel blinked at her innocently. "What shoes?"

Nora exhaled loudly. "My running shoes. They were in the back, and now they're gone."

The girl shrugged and started making a latte. "Why would I know anything about your stupid shoes?"

"Maybe because you love going out of your way to torture me?" Nora's voice cracked, and Laurel smirked.

"You really are ridiculous," she said, handing the drink to the customer with a smile before heading back to ring up the next patron. "But since you're still here, I could use some help."

Completely at a loss, Nora stared at her for a moment. "Laurel, I paid a lot of money to run the half marathon," she finally pleaded. "Would you please just give me back my shoes?"

Laurel shrugged. "Why are you so sure I took them? Somebody could have stolen them."

Nora rolled her eyes. "Right. Out of the back break room."

"You said there was a delivery; maybe the driver took them."

A seed of doubt started to form in Nora's mind. "Seriously?"

Laurel shrugged and locked eyes with Nora. "It's a better explanation than the one you're going off on." She raised her voice a little bit, and Nora got the impression that the customers were listening intently. "Why would I do something so awful?"

Nora shook her head. "Fine. Fine, don't admit it. I'll just buy another pair on my way to the race."

Laurel smirked and tipped her head toward the clock. "At this hour?"

Nora glanced at the clock on the wall. "Shit," she muttered under her breath. It was ten to six; there was no way she could make it for her starting time, even if she could fly. _And Laurel has a point; there aren't any stores that are open this early._

For a few heartbeats, she stood there, frozen and dejected, watching the second hand tick on the clock. Finally, she sighed deeply and pulled her apron off the hook. "You win," she said softly to Laurel as she started to make the next order. Laurel didn't say anything, but a satisfied smile spread across her face.

Nora was sure that the girl had hidden her shoes, but what could she do? Her hands were shaking as she made a series of drinks, but as long as Laurel staunchly denied that she knew anything about the shoes, Nora realized she was wasting her breath. The minutes ticked by, and Nora sank more deeply into her misery. She was just about ready to lose it altogether and start crying into the espresso when a familiar voice pulled her out of her thoughts.

"Why the long face?"

Nora looked up and met Colleen's steady gaze. "Nothing, really." She said, trying and failing to brighten her tone.

"I'm surprised to see you here today," Colleen answered. "Isn't it the half marathon?"

Nora nodded, surprised the old women knew that. "I was planning to run it," she admitted, darting a glare at Laurel's back, "but now I can't."

"They wouldn't give you the day off?" Colleen clucked her tongue sympathetically.

"No, it's not that." Nora paused, wondering if she should tell Colleen the truth. "My shoes are missing," she finally admitted. "Laurel—Laurel thinks somebody stole them."

To Nora's surprise, Colleen smiled. "Easiest fix in the world." She pulled out her cell phone, peering across the counter at Nora's feet. "What size do you wear, dear?"

"Um, seven," Nora said, staring at the woman. "What are you going to do?"

Colleen ignored her, turning around and speaking rapidly into the phone. Nora thought she caught the store address, but she couldn't hear what else the older woman said. When she hung up, she faced Nora with a triumphant smile. "You'll be on your way in no time."

Nora shook her head. "There's no way for me to get another pair of shoes at this hour, and by the time the stores open, the race will be over."

Colleen winked at her. "Nothing is impossible if you know the right people. I just called my son, and he'll be bringing you a new pair of shoes momentarily."

"Your son?" Nora asked, feeling stupid. "What does he have to do with all this?"

Colleen chuckled. "He owns Uptown Sports. Took it over a few years ago after his father passed away."

Another customer coughed loudly, and Nora started making the next order, never taking her eyes off Colleen. "I still don't understand," she finally admitted.

The older woman's eyes sparkled. "I made him open the store and grab a pair of our best running shoes in a seven. He should be here any minute."

Nora stared at her, astonished. "Seriously? She managed to squeak.

Before Colleen could answer, the door to the café opened and a guy carrying a big shoe box hurried in. Colleen waved him over and pointed to Nora, and the man handed her the box with a smile.

"Mom said you're running the half today. Good luck!"

Nora stared at him, her mouth open. "But," she began, looking at the box of expensive shoes in her hand, "how can I pay for these? Should I come by the store after the race?"

Colleen and her son laughed, and the man shook his head. "When Mom tells me we're giving away a pair of shoes, I don't ask questions."

"They're a gift?" Nora asked, feeling stupid. "But this is too much!"

Colleen raised her eyebrow. "Do you want to run the half or not?"

Nora's hands tightened around the box. "I want to run. I've been training for months!"

The older woman nodded. "Then get those things laced up and stop standing here arguing about whether or not you can accept the gift."

A wide smile stretched across Nora's face, but then she glanced at the clock, and her heart fell. It was already seven thirty. "I've missed my start time," she said, trying to hand the shoes back to Colleen's son.

Colleen rolled her eyes. "They'll let you start late as long as you registered before the deadline."

Nora's eyes widened. "Really? How do you know?"

Colleen's son laughed. "Mom's run her fair share of halfs over the years." He looked at the older woman with pride. "She's running the full this year."

Nora gaped at the woman. "I had no idea you ran!"

Colleen shrugged delicately. "You never asked. Now, hurry up and get those shoes on, and we'll drive you over to the race."

Ignoring Laurel's angry expression, Nora ripped off her apron and rushed around the counter, carrying the box of shoes with a huge smile. "I'll put them on in the car," she said, throwing her arms around Colleen. "I don't know how to thank you."

The older woman smiled. "You can thank me by running your fastest time today."

### CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Kingston's allergies hit a few days before the half marathon, and despite the antihistamines he was popping like candy, he seriously considered skipping the race. But quitting didn't come easy to him, except where women were concerned, so he laced up his running shoes and headed down town for his seven thirty start time.

The last race he'd run back in Texas had involved powdered paint and blasting music, and it had felt more like a rave than a run. The crowd at the starting line for the half marathon was a lot more subdued, but a heightened sense of energy filled the air, and Kingston started to look forward to the run despite his sinuses.

Even though it was technically spring, the early morning air was still chilly, and Kingston wondered fleetingly if he'd ever get used to weather in New York. After admitting to his sister that he was thinking about leaving, he'd started to tentatively scope out the transfer situation at work, but things weren't looking good; his work at the New York office had been noticed by folks higher up the food chain than Mr. Fitz, and after a few innocent questions about locations and opportunities, Kingston got the impression that the bank would fight to keep him in New York.

There _was_ something about the place, Kingston realized as he joined the crush of runners at his start time. It might not be the fairy tale of his youth, but when he ran down 42nd street and realized that the electric billboards surrounding Times Square were still flashing, even in the pre-dawn hours, he grinned broadly. _This is what drew me here,_ he thought as he tried to keep his pace steady. _The lights, the grit...there's nowhere quite like it._

The course looped through the city, and Kingston thought it just might be the best way to see New York; the streets, famous for their traffic and noise, were strangely silent with all the traffic blocked off. The only sounds Kingston could hear were the cheers from the spectators lining the course, the pounding of the feet surrounding him, and the beating of his own heart.

He tried to catch his breath, but it was hard to remember to breathe through the smile plastered on his face, and he noticed similar expressions on some of the other race participants. The streets still smelled like smoke and car exhaust, even without the traffic, but Kingston breathed it all in with a ridiculous grin. His feet pounded into the asphalt, and he imagined that he could feel the thrumming pulse of the city with every step he took.

Kingston had no idea how many people had run the half that morning, but he felt like he was connected to each and every person there; they'd all been witnesses to the surge of emotion he'd felt while he was running around Manhattan, and that intimacy made Kingston feel like all the other runners were his closest friends and family.

By the time he reached the finish line, he felt like his chest was about to burst open, but it wasn't strictly due to exertion. Despite his allergies, despite his wounded heart, despite everything, Kingston had fallen back in love that morning, and this time, he didn't think he'd be falling out any time soon.

This time, he'd fallen in love with the city.

### CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Colleen's son had arrived in a private car with a driver, but Nora was too excited about the race to really enjoy the thrill of riding through New York behind tinted glass. When they pulled up to the park, Nora popped onto the curb and bounced on her toes.

"These feel great," she said, grinning at Colleen and her son. "Seriously the best shoes I've ever had."

Colleen smiled. "I know it's not ideal to run in a brand new pair, but I'd hate to think of you missing your first half."

Her son passed a stack of Band-Aids to Nora. "You might want these, just in case."

She smiled and tucked them into her arm band. "Thank you. And thank you both so much; I still can't believe I actually get to race today!"

Colleen and her son smiled matching smiles as Colleen leaned over to close the door. "You deserve to make your dreams come true. Now, go run like you've never run before!"

Nora waved and hurried over to the registration table. The crowd was considerably smaller than she expected, and she wondered if most of the other runners had started earlier. A woman at the table looked up at her and motioned her forward with a smile.

"Hi," Nora began, rocking back and forth in her new shoes. "I was registered to start at six, but, um, I had a work emergency."

"Happens all the time. Name?"

"Nora Willson." Nora held her breath, but the woman just skimmed the list and smiled.

"Here's your number," she said, passing a square of paper across the table to Nora. "You can start in the next group; they'll be going in five minutes. Is that okay?"

Nora grinned. "Perfect!" She pinned the number to her shirt and moved over to one side. She was too keyed up to do any kind of pre-race stretching, but she figured she'd take it slow, just like with the running group, and treat the first mile or so as a warm up. When the group lined up, Nora was in the front, a wide smile on her face.

It was strange for her to be running in the park in daylight; she'd gotten so used to her midnight runs that she might as well have been running in a totally new place, and her eyes drank in the springtime scenery. Trees that had looked like skeletons at night actually had green buds on their limbs, and a few early birds were singing, despite the chill of winter that still lingered in the air. Nora kept an easy pace, focusing on the familiar sound of her feet on the asphalt and ignoring the speed of the other runners around her. Instead of looping the park twice, the route veered off into the city, and tall buildings flashed by as Nora ran along the barricaded streets. People lined the path of the race, cheering and waving to their friends, but Nora was too focused to really notice them.

Her left foot felt like it was starting to blister by the time Nora finally neared the finish line, but she ignored the sharp pain and pushed herself for one final sprint. A race volunteer ran up to her with a cup of water as soon as she cleared the finish line, and Nora swallowed it quickly before bending over to catch her breath. Her lungs felt like they might burst, and her feet hurt in the unfamiliar shoes, but Nora was exhilarated. _I really did it!_ She thought, sucking in air and starting to look around the finish line.

Someone barreled into her, and Nora let herself be pulled into a tight hug. "There you are!" Carl grinned at her. "I was worried you broke your leg or something."

Nora shook her head, sweat dripping into her eyes. "No, just lost my shoes."

Before she could tell him about her morning, she caught sight of Lynne and some of the other midnight runners over his shoulder. Carl let go of her, and she hurried over to the group.

When Lynne saw her, she grinned. "You finished!"

"You, too!" Nora said, raising her hand to give her five. "God, that feels good."

Lynne laughed. "That running high never gets old."

Nora nodded as she caught her breath. "How was your time?"

Lynne's smile stretched wider. "My personal best. What about you?"

"I haven't checked yet," Nora admitted. "I just got done."

"Well, don't let me stop you! We're still waiting on a few more from the group, but then we're all going out to celebrate. You in?"

Nora nodded. "Of course! I'll be back as soon as I check my time."

Pushing her way through the crowd of weary runners and their friends and family, Nora finally spotted the table with the race officials, but a pair of familiar broad shoulders made her falter. Kingston was standing there, his back to her, and for one moment, Nora actually considered skipping it and not finding out her race time. She hadn't seen him since their odd confrontation at the coffee shop, and she wasn't sure she could handle another rude encounter with him. _But this might be your last chance to see him_ , a little voice whispered in her mind, and her heart clenched at the thought.

Squaring her shoulders, she made her way to the table, but she didn't bother checking her time. Standing on the tips of her toes, she tapped him on the shoulder.

He turned around, but his smile slipped when he saw Nora. "You made it," he said, his twang sounding flat.

Nora nodded, suddenly shy. "You, too." She bit her lip, but then she took a deep breath. "I need to tell you something."

Kingston shook his head and stepped away from the table. "You really don't. It's all in the past."

"But I--," Nora stuttered, "I can't stop thinking about you!"

Kingston paused, his gray eyes searching hers. "Why?"

She hesitated. "I've thought about you ever since we met. At the coffee shop," she added.

He raised his eyebrow. "You admit that was you?"

"I never denied it," she said. "I just didn't think you meant me."

He put his hand under her chin and tipped her face up. "Why wouldn't I mean you, Nora? You're enough to set any man's heart racing."

Her mouth was dry. "That's just the half marathon," she tried to joke, but the words sounded stilted. Kingston's hand lingered on her face, and his touch was making it hard for her to think straight.

Kingston shook his head. "No, hon, that's just you." He leaned closer to her, and for one breathless moment, Nora thought he was about to kiss her, but then he pulled back, dropping his hand. "But what about your boyfriend?"

Nora laughed nervously. " _Not_ my boyfriend; Carl's my best friend."

"It sure looked like you were clinging to him," Kingston said, his face unsure.

Nora reached up tentatively and wrapped her hands around his neck. "I've known Carl all my life," she said, slowly and deliberately. "He's the best friend I've ever had, but we've never dated. And," she added thoughtfully, "if all goes well, he'll be back together with Reggie soon."

Kingston raised an eyebrow. "You're telling me that all this time, you were available?" His hands circled her waist, and Nora tightened her grip on the back of his neck.

"No," she said softly, "all this time I was waiting to be yours."

He claimed her lips before she could say anything else, and Nora melted into the kiss. Pressing her sweaty body against him, Nora kissed him back for all she was worth as his hands slid down to cradle her hips, tugging her more firmly against him. Tangling her hands in his hair, Nora broke the kiss and pulled back to look into Kingston's gray eyes for a moment, and she smiled before pressing her lips to his again.

This is so much better than anything I could have dreamed.

### CUT LOOSE

### Once Upon a Desire

### By Jen McConnel

### 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 is 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.

### HAPTER 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!_

### PRINCESS SUITE

### Once Upon a Desire

### By Jen McConnel

### HAPTER 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._

### PTER TWO

Lynne rushed around the corner, carrying a tall floral arrangement with both hands. The pager at her waist beeped insistently, but she ignored it. She managed to press the elevator button with her elbow, but once inside, she had to set the flowers down in order to reach the access card dangling from a pull cord at her waist. Swiping it against the keypad, Lynne typed in the code for the Princess Suite. Only hotel managers, elite guests, and carefully screened members of the staff had that code; the penthouse was a world unto itself, a world most of the hotel guests didn't even know existed, and Lynne knew the rock stars and celebrities who stayed in the Princess Suite paid good money for that little slice of anonymity. _Well, they will, at least_ , she reminded herself. There hadn't been any guests in the suite since the remodel, but that was about to change.

The elevator doors slid open silently, and scooping up her flowers, Lynne hurried down the hall. Carter Edwards was due to arrive any minute, and Lynne's pulse accelerated at the thought of even one petal being out of place in the Princess Suite by the time the movie star checked in. Her boss had made it clear to her that a lot was riding on this visit; if Carter Edwards felt properly pampered during his stay, there was a chance that he might endorse the aging hotel, and after the price tag on the recent renovations, Lynne knew they desperately needed the visibility boost that Edwards could provide. Panting, she used a different code for the keyless entry to the penthouse, and the door opened inward on oiled hinges.

She paused at the threshold, eyeing the plush white carpet for a moment before she slipped off her shoes and crept into the suite in her stocking feet. _No need to mention that to housekeeping,_ she thought, walking carefully to the breakfast table dwarfed by a wall of windows looking down on Manhattan. _Besides, they'd have to vacuum again if I left shoe prints on that floor, and we don't have time for that._ Setting down the flowers on the petite table, Lynne risked a glance down at the city below.

The view was breathtaking, and Lynne paused to drink it in. She'd only been made shift manager a few months before, and there hadn't been a reason for her to be in the Princess Suite since she'd gained access to it. Sunlight cut across the skyscrapers, and everything was bathed in a pale golden light. _I'll bet it's even more magical after dark,_ she thought, her eyes skimming the familiar tip of the Chrysler Building in the distance. Other hotels might have had more desirable locations and swankier style, but Lynne thought it would be hard to beat the view from the Princess Suite.

Even though she could have stood there all day, gawking at the city, Lynne dragged her eyes away and hurried back to the door of the penthouse. Her promotion may have meant she had access to the suite and the celebrities who were hopefully going to make Regal Towers their home away from home, but it also meant she had to act like she wasn't awed by the opulence of the penthouse and its guests. That was proving to be a challenge, especially since she'd heard that Edwards was going to be the first guest she was in charge of, but Lynne wasn't about to risk her job chasing adolescent fantasies and movie stars.

She slipped her shoes back on and glanced into the room, her eyes skimming every nook and cranny one last time to make sure everything was ready for their special guest. The suite looked elegantly perfect, and Lynne closed the door behind her with a sigh. She sometimes wondered what it would be like to be a guest at Regal, rather than a manager, to enjoy some of the opulence without worrying about the rules. _I wonder if I'll ever be able to enjoy ANY hotel stay now,_ she thought as she hurried to the elevator. _Or do I know too much about what goes on behind the scenes?_

For a brief moment, she allowed herself to close her eyes and tip her head back, but she resisted the urge to sit down on the plush settee in front of the gold elevator doors. One of the first things she'd learned when she started work years ago as a check-in clerk was that the hotel had security cameras scattered everywhere, and although they were ostensibly there for the safety of the guests, Lynne had known a handful of employees who were fired over things that couldn't possibly have been seen without the aid of the cameras. She rolled her shoulders and straightened up as the elevator doors opened, a professional smile plastered on her face.

When she got back to the front desk, she surveyed the lobby with a critical eye. The money that the owners had poured into renovating the penthouse hadn't stretched very far in the rest of the hotel, but Lynne had made sure the old carpet in the lobby had been steam cleaned before she went home the previous night, and the stately wooden registration desk had been freshly polished. Still, if she looked too closely, Lynne could see the places where the carpet had worn thin, strategically hidden beneath furniture that got rearranged every so often, and she knew there were a number of dents marring the top of the antique desk, but there wasn't anything she could do about all that.

_Things I can't change,_ she thought, her fingers skimming over the silver bracelet she always wore. The words to the serenity prayer were engraved on the inside, against her skin, and Lynne must have recited them a million times since she got sober seven years ago.

Turning around, her eyes landed on Carly, one of the check-in staff. She had a pink and brown scarf tied around her head like a headband, completely at odds with the sleek black suit she was wearing. Lynne shook her head. Regal Towers required their employees to wear uniforms, but there wasn't anything in the official set of policies dictating hair. Still, Lynne crossed to the registration desk and cleared her throat.

Carly looked up and grinned. "You're already done getting the Princess Suite ready?"

Lynne nodded, trying not to let herself be derailed. "He'll be here any minute. Carly—"

The woman sighed and smiled dreamily. "What will he be like in person, do you think?"

"I haven't really thought about it," Lynne answered honestly. Sure, she loved Carter Edwards's movies as much as the next woman, but ever since his manager booked him at Regal, she'd been too preoccupied with making things perfect for the movie star's stay to worry about what it would be like to meet him. She focused on Carly again. "Do you think you could take that scarf off before he gets here?"

Carly raised an eyebrow. "Are you serious?"

Lynne nodded, trying to look firm. "It doesn't really give off a ritzy vibe, if you know what I mean."

Carly tossed her wavy hair defiantly. "Why should I care? I'm wearing the new uniform, even though black makes me look like a vampire; isn't that enough?"

Lynne sighed. "I just want everything to be perfect for this visit."

"Lynne, Edwards won't be the only celebrity who'll stay here. We don't have to bend over and kiss his ass just to get a good review of the hotel."

Lynne bit her lower lip. "But he's the first big name we've had since the remodel. We need this. We need to do whatever it takes to keep him happy, ass kissing included. Hell, I'd be willing to _lick_ his ass if that's what it takes."

Someone cleared his throat, and Lynne froze. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing whoever was standing behind her to not be Carter Edwards.

She turned around and met a familiar pair of emerald green eyes, sparkling with amusement. Lynne exhaled sharply. _How long has he been standing there?_ Sticking out her hand, she tried to keep the quaver out of her voice. "Welcome to Regal Towers, Mr. Edwards."

He gave her the blinding smile that had made him one of the sexiest men of the decade according to every celebrity magazine. "Thank you. Sorry I'm a bit early."

She shook her head and hurried to the computer, her fingers tapping the keys rapidly as she checked him in. "Not a problem. I trust you had a good flight?"

He shrugged, leaning casually against the counter, and Lynne noticed that his collared shirt was undone at the top, showing a triangle of perfectly tanned skin. She pulled her eyes back to the computer as fast as she could.

"Can't complain," Edwards was saying. "That's a pretty scarf," he added, and Lynne's eyes swung up in time to notice Carly inching around the counter, a sappy look on her face.

"Thank you so much, Carter," she gushed before giggling nervously. "I mean, Mr. Edwards. It's such a pleasure to meet you!"

Lynne rolled her eyes. "Carly, can you finish this up? I'll show Mr. Edwards to his room."

Carly stopped, her hand hovering in midair as if she'd been about to grab the movie star, and a small pout slipped onto her face. Lynne glared at her, and Carly shook herself, moving back behind the counter and forcing a smile. "Of course," she chirped. "Not a problem."

Edwards leaned forward and winked at Carly. "You sure you wouldn't do some ass kissing if I asked you to?" He asked with an impish smile that somehow made his words both charming and suggestive.

The girl giggled like an idiot, and Lynne clenched her teeth. _God, he'd heard everything._ Forcing a professional smile, she came around the counter and handed Edwards his key. "I'll ride up with you to show you the codes," she offered, turning away from the reception desk. _And when I get back down, I'll tell Carly to shape up or stay home this week,_ she thought.

After a moment, Edwards followed her, and a second man she hadn't noticed got into the elevator with them. She eyed him for a moment, wondering what part of the celebrity entourage he filled.

He must have felt his eyes on her, because he turned and offered her a toothy smile. "I'm Davis Capelli, Carter's manager." He reached for her hand and gave her a too- vigorous shake. "And you are?"

"Lynne Sanderson," she said, resisting the urge to wipe her hand on her skirt once he'd released her. Capelli's hand was sweaty, and he reeked of cologne, but Lynne kept her smile polite and professional. "I'm shift manager here at Regal Towers."

"Wonderful, wonderful," Capelli said, not meeting her eyes.

She cleared her throat. "There's a passcode to the Princess Suite, both for the elevator and the door to the suite," she explained, focusing on the movie star and trying not to notice the way her throat was suddenly dry. "So there's no chance of any other hotel guests accidentally winding up there and disturbing your privacy." She swiped her card and typed in the code, aware that Edwards was watching her closely. "We change the code every week, too, and no one but the guest and a few elite members of staff have access to the top floor." She glanced up, meeting his startling green eyes, and for a moment she almost forgot what she was going to say. "Um," she said, struggling to get her thoughts together, "are you staying more than a week?"

Edwards shrugged. "We'll have to see how things go," he said, his lips curving into a hint of a smile.

Was Lynne imagining things, or had she heard a double meaning behind his words? She shook her head. _Stop acting like a star-struck little girl,_ she admonished herself. _He's just a guest. Just like any other guest._ She glanced at Edwards out of the corner of her eye. _A guest with billions of dollars and a face that's been on more magazine covers than I can count._

"What are your plans in New York?" She asked, struggling to maintain a detached, professional demeanor.

Edwards opened his mouth, but before he could respond, the elevator doors swung open, and Capelli headed down the hall. "Come on, Carter," he said, jerking his hand toward the Princess Suite. "Tight schedule."

The movie star looked at Lynne, and for a second she couldn't figure out what he wanted. "My key?" He asked, holding out his hand.

"Oh!" Lynne fumbled with the key and handed it to him. An electric current raced up her arm from the brief contact with him, and Lynne jerked her hand back as if she'd been scorched. "I'll have someone bring up your luggage," she said, fumbling for something, anything, to say.

Capelli shoved a five dollar bill in her hand. "That'll be fine, Laura. The car's at the curb." Putting his hand on Edwards' shoulder, he steered the celebrity toward the Princess Suite.

"It's Lynne," Lynne said softly, but neither man looked back at her. Shaking her head, she closed the elevator doors, her fingers turning her bracelet around her wrist furiously. _God, I hope I didn't totally screw that up,_ she thought, her shoulders slumping as she replayed the interchange in her mind. _Maybe I better send up a bottle of champagne, just as another welcome gesture,_ she decided, her mind racing. _I'll do whatever it takes to get Edwards to endorse us,_ she thought as the elevator doors opened once more. _Ass kissing included._

### CHAPTER THREE

Carter slumped in a chair at the bistro table, picking idly at the lilies in the vase in front of him. "Do I have to?"

"For the last time, yes. Stop acting like such a baby," Davis said, pocketing his phone and glaring at Carter. "It'll be good for your image."

Carter had known his ex-wife had been making all the right waves with her Broadway production of _Guys and Dolls_ , but he hadn't really considered the fact that he'd have to see her if he wanted to make a go of the stage himself. Sure, he had figured they might bump into each other at some event or another, but Davis had bought a pair of front row tickets for Moyra's performance that night, citing it as the perfect "see and be seen" for Carter.

_It sounds like my version of hell,_ Carter thought, staring listlessly at the flowers.

His manager clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Cheer up, Carter. You're a professional; it shouldn't be hard to act like you're proud of her, right?"

Carter shook his head. "Right. Easiest thing I can think of." He sighed. "Do I really have to do this?"

Before Davis could say anything, there was a tentative knock at the door to the suite. Pushing out of the chair, Carter hurried to open it, thankful for the interruption.

The no-nonsense manager, the one who'd checked him in the previous afternoon, stood there, holding a vase of fresh flowers in one hand while reaching for the door with her other. "Oh," she said, peering around the floral arrangement. "I'm sorry, Mr. Edwards. I didn't know you were here." Shifting from foot to foot, she glanced at the flowers. "I'll come back later. I'm sorry to disturb you." She turned to leave, but Carter held the door wide, a smile plastered on his face.

"That's quite all right. Don't let me get in the way of any freshening you wanted to do. Please," he added, glancing over his shoulder at Davis, "come in."

She hesitated for a moment on the threshold, but finally, she stepped into the suite. "Housekeeping forgot to change out the flowers," she said apologetically. "I thought I could swap them out before you came back."

He had been out that afternoon, which was probably why he'd missed the housekeeping staff, but he and Davis had just returned from his first audition a few moments before the woman---what was her name?—showed up. "Don't worry about a thing. Take the time you need," he said, hoping that Davis would drop their earlier conversation about him making an appearance at Moyra's show that night.

No such luck. As soon as the woman—Lynne, that was it!--was inside the suite, Davis started in again. "You have to start somewhere."

Carter shoved his hands in his pockets. "I _am_ starting. I thought the auditions went well today."

Davis shook his head, ignoring the hotel manager as she leaned around him to swap the vase of flowers on the table with the one she'd been carrying. "Don't change the subject. She got here first, and now you're on her turf. You've got to make nice; you don't want the directors to think there's some unprofessional drama there, do you?"

Carter shook his head, and Davis looked triumphant.

"Going to her show is a goodwill gesture, to her and the entire rotten industry. Trust me, Carter, you're more likely to land your own show if the theatre community knows you don't hold grudges. Moyra's their darling of the month, so it's time to suck it up and be a man. Besides, there's an after party tonight, and I want you there shaking hands and oozing charm. Those people are your ticket to a show of your own."

Carter made one last appeal. "You really expect me to sit through my ex's stupid musical by myself?"

Davis snorted. "You can take a date, if you want. Who can you call on short notice?"

"There's Lola," Carter said, thinking of the fashion model he'd met on the set of his last movie.

Davis shook his head immediately. "Too much drama. You need to keep this simple, Carter."

"Okay," Carter exhaled sharply. "What about Kate?"

"And risk her having another public breakdown? Hell, no."

"Fine," Carter threw up his hands, exasperated. "Why don't I just hire an escort?"

Davis rubbed his chin. "Not a bad idea."

Carter's jaw dropped. "You're joking."

"You don't need any entanglements, Carter. A professional could be just the thing."

Carter tried to backpedal. "I was joking, Davis. I don't need to hire a hooker."

"No," Davis agreed thoughtfully. "Just somebody pretty to wear on your arm. What about her?" He jerked his thumb at the hotel manager, who had been silently straightening pillows and adjusting the curtains the entire time. She looked up, startled, and Carter realized that she must have been listening intently to their conversation.

"What?" She said, crossing her arms in front of her chest nervously. "I'm not—I don't—" she sputtered, unable to finish the sentence.

Davis sashayed over to her. "Laura, baby. We know you're not that type of girl," he said smoothly, turning on the charm.

She glared at him. "It's Lynne. And you're damn right I'm not—" she took a deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them, Carter noticed that they were almost lavender. _I wonder if she's wearing contacts,_ he thought, his eyes skimming her face _._ She tried again. "I'm sorry, Mr. Capelli, but that kind of thing is _not_ part of my job description."

Carter could tell she was angry, but she was trying so hard not to piss either of them off. _She's a professional, at least_ , he thought, his eyes traveling down her body. Despite the bulky suit coat she wore, he thought he saw a hint of some curves hiding under her hotel uniform, and he studied her, considering, but then he shook his head. "She doesn't want to, Davis." _The only thing worse than facing Moyra would be doing it with a woman who has to be talked into being seen with me._

"Hear me out," his manager began, dividing his look between Lynne and Carter. "You need a date, correct?"

Carter nodded, his stomach sinking at his manager's calculating expression. "If you're going to force me to go to this thing."

Davis ignored him and looked at Lynne. "And I'm guessing that you need a celebrity endorsement from your distinguished guest for this shabby little hotel. Am I right?" He cocked an eyebrow, and Lynne's jaw tightened.

After a moment, she gave a curt nod, and Capelli clapped his hands.

"Bingo. We've got something you want, and you've got something we want."

Lynne glared at him. "I'm _not_ an escort."

Carter shook his head. "Davis, this is ridiculous."

The manager just grinned. "Tell you what," he said, sidling up to Lynne. "You make yourself available to my boy here for a few nights out on the town, and I guarantee he'll give this hotel the best review you've ever had."

She bit her lip, obviously torn, and Carter realized there was something charming about her. He swallowed, actually considering Davis's suggestion. Lynne glanced at him, and then she frowned. "If I do this," she began, "we both know going into it that there will be no kissing...or anything else," she said, waving her hand vaguely. "Right?"

Carter glared at his manager. "Seriously, Davis? This is the best you can do for me? She doesn't even like me!"

Davis grinned. "Which makes this all the more perfect. Remember, Carter, you don't need anything messy...nothing the press can sink their teeth into. Besides, she's pretty enough."

Lynne snorted. "I'm so glad I pass inspection," she said, acid in her voice.

Davis ignored her tone. "So, we've got a deal?"

Lynne hesitated, and then she glanced at Carter. "I guess I'm game if he is."

Before Carter could speak, Davis grabbed her hand and gave it a rough shake. "Wonderful. You'll be going to a show with him tonight, and the after party later." He eyed her drab hotel uniform. "You do have something better to wear, I hope?"

Lynne rolled her eyes. "I think I know how to dress myself."

"Still," Davis said, tipping his head to one side, "you might want to go shopping. Wherever he goes," he said, jerking his thumb at Carter, "cameras are sure to follow." He pulled out his wallet and handed her three crisp hundred dollar bills. "Get a blow out or something," he said, waving the money in her face.

Lynne clamped her teeth shut and crossed her arms, refusing to take the money. "Seriously?"

Carter kind of liked how feisty she sounded, but he realized he was about to lose his date if he didn't step in. "Whatever you want," he said, plucking the money from his manager's hand and offering it to her with his most charming smile. "I want you to feel beautiful tonight."

Lynne studied him. "No," she said slowly, "you want me to _look_ beautiful." She sighed, glancing down at her clothes before she took the money from him. Her fingers skimmed his palm, and Carter bit back a shiver at the unexpected contact.

Lynne cleared her throat and looked away. "How formal are we talking?"

Carter shrugged. "Suit coat for me," he finally offered. "So maybe something simple, like a cocktail dress?"

"Something understated," Davis chimed in. Lynne and Carter both gave him a look before Lynne pocketed the money and headed for the door.

"I'll figure it out. Um," she hesitated, looking back over her shoulder at Carter. "Should I meet you there?"

Davis answered before Carter could even open his mouth. "Of course not! Part of the whole point is to make sure you're seen arriving together. Be in the hotel lobby at six. Oh," he added as an afterthought, "you can't tell anybody about this. I'll have a confidentiality agreement drawn up for you to sign tonight."

Lynne blanched. "I'll be outside the hotel," she said, slipping out the door and closing it softly behind her before either man could respond.

When she was gone, Carter raised an eyebrow at his manager. "You seriously think this will work?"

Davis grinned. "You needed a date, I found you a date. Don't say I never give you anything."

Carter shook his head, his glance trailing to the door. "I don't know. She doesn't seem that interested."

"Which makes her all the more perfect. You don't need entanglements, Carter; you just need a second wind career-wise."

Carter sighed. "Is the confidentiality agreement really necessary?"

Davis nodded firmly. "You don't want her selling you out to the tabloids, do you? Think how that would sound: 'Carter Edwards has to Hire a Date.'"

Carter shrugged, trying to look nonchalant, but the words stung. "Fair enough." _Am I losing my edge?_

His manager turned away. "Look at it this way; now you can schmooze with Moyra without looking like some love struck fool. At least she's pretty enough," Davis added as an afterthought.

"Yeah," Carter said softly, remembering her violet eyes. He hadn't really noticed Lynne when he checked into the hotel, but now that he'd had time to study her face, he realized she was more than simply "pretty enough". And maybe, after she'd spent some time with him, her brittle demeanor would soften a bit. Carter smiled, wondering what it might take to get Lynne to drop her professional act and be a real date. Despite himself, he almost started to look forward to the evening.

### CHAPTER FOUR

Lynne pressed her back against the rear wall of the elevator and closed her eyes. _Did that really just happen?_ Her hands strayed to the pocket of her coat, but the money was still there.

Her eyes popped open. "Oh, my God, I'm going out with Carter Edwards!" Sure, it was just a business arrangement, but Lynne couldn't help being a little bit excited. She'd loved his movies ever since his breakout role in that corny action movie a decade ago, and she always saw his films in the theaters instead of waiting to rent them, even the ones that were too ridiculous or gory. She'd never gone so far as to join his fan club or anything silly like that, but Lynne always clicked on any online headlines that included the movie star's name. Every woman she knew was in love with him, and she was the one he'd be spending time with while he was in town.

_Nobody will believe it,_ she thought as the elevator doors slid open, depositing her to the lobby. Her smile faded as she walked across the reception area. _Not that I can tell anybody._ It wasn't just the confidentiality agreement that bound her, she realized: if her boss found out what she was doing, Lynne was sure she'd wind up out of a job. Regal Towers had a strict non-fraternization policy between hotel staff and guests, and Lynne didn't think that her excuse of getting Edwards to endorse the hotel was going to fly if the owners caught wind of her bizarre agreement with the movie star.

She bit her lip and glanced around the lobby nervously. _I should have insisted on meeting him there tonight_ , she thought, trying to figure out where she could wait for him that wouldn't be too conspicuous. _That was really stupid of me._

Someone tapped her shoulder and Lynne whirled around guiltily. Carly was standing there, a confused expression on her face.

"Why are you so jumpy all of a sudden?"

Lynne shrugged, smoothing her coat and tugging on the hem. "Too much caffeine, I guess."

Carly rolled her eyes. "No such thing. But anyway, I just wanted to check in with you before I take my break."

Lynne nodded, pushing her mind away from her impending date with Edwards. "Fine. Be back in an hour."

Carly nodded, but then she hesitated. "Did you—did you see him today?"

"See who?"

"You know," Carly dropped her voice. "Carter!"

Lynne flinched. "We can't talk about him staying here, Carly. You know that."

Carly bobbed her head apologetically. "I know, I know. I was just wondering if you'd seen him today."

Lynne debated lying, but she didn't see the point. "I was just swapping out the flowers in the Princess Suite. He was there."

Carly clapped her hands together, but Lynne gave her a hard look. "Okay," the girl said, a giddy smile on her face. "Just wondering. I, um, I guess I'll take my break now."

Lynne nodded, but her stomach was jumping around as she thought about what would happen if anyone found out about her agreement with Edwards. _God, why did I agree to do this? The endorsement won't be worth anything if I lose my job over it._

She spent the rest of her shift worrying, and she'd almost convinced herself that she should go back up to the penthouse and tell the movie star that she'd reconsidered, but she didn't know what she'd say if her boss asked her why she'd made the trip to the Princess Suite twice in one day. _Damn those security cameras_ , she thought.

Even though she knew she shouldn't go out with Edwards, at the end of her shift her feet led her to a huge department store a few blocks away, and soon she was trying on an armful of dresses in the small changing room. There wasn't a mirror in the dressing room, so each time she slipped on a new dress, Lynne had to step into the rear of the store to check her reflection in the three-way mirror taking up the back wall.

She eyed herself critically, trying to figure out which look would go best with a celebrity. Lynne shook her head wryly. _If I'm going to go through with this, I've got to stop thinking like a star struck fan. It's business, that's all_.

She tugged on the neckline of a lacy black dress and studied her reflection. Despite years of running, her body had never let go of its curves, and the dress hugged her in all the right places. It was fancier than anything she owned, and while it wasn't the type of dress she'd usually go for at all, she reminded herself that she didn't usually have to dress to be seen.

Remembering what Davis had said, she frowned. Would the paparazzi really show up to a Broadway play, just because Carter Edwards was there? "I never should have agreed to this," Lynne said to her reflection, feeling her stomach clench with sudden paranoia.

A salesclerk materialized at her side as if she'd sensed that she was about to lose the sale. "You look stunning," the woman gushed, reaching for Lynne's shoulders and forcing her to turn around. "Just look at how the dress accentuates your body!"

Lynne looked over her shoulder, taking in the way the dress clung. The lacy hem stopped just above her knees, revealing legs that were sleek and toned, and Lynne sighed. She knew she looked good, but now that she'd started to worry, she was having a hard time recapturing her earlier excitement. "Thanks," she told the clerk without any enthusiasm. "It's for a show."

The woman nodded. "You'll be perfect in that. How are you going to wear your hair?"

Lynne shrugged. "Down, I guess." She never really bothered much with her mane of dark hair; it was too thick to style quickly, and she'd learned through trial and error that a loose bun at the nape of her neck was her fastest option when she was getting ready for work. Still, Davis's suggestion of a blow-out surfaced in her mind, and she wondered what she'd look like if she took that kind of time with her hair.

The clerk studied Lynne's face, and then she nodded slowly. "And smoky eye makeup would be just the thing."

Lynne glanced back at the mirror. She rarely wore makeup, but she thought she could pull off the look the clerk was talking about. "Thanks," she said, checking her watch. "I better go if I'm going to get ready in time." She hurried back to the dressing room and changed back into her work clothes, hanging the dress carefully on its hanger before heading up to the register. She winced at the price of the dress, but she forked over some of Davis's cash and tried to push away her impulse to put the dress back and find something cheaper. The clerk had to call a manager over to check the bills, and Lynne stood there, shifting uncomfortably on her feet, while they conferred. _God, I hadn't thought about that,_ she thought as the clerk finally handed her the dress bag and her change. _They probably think I'm some mobster's girlfriend._

Embarrassed, she headed away from the register, clutching her purchase tightly. She didn't have time to make it all the way to her apartment in Bay Ridge and back to the hotel before the fake date; on a good day, the round trip took her close to two hours. _I really didn't think this one through,_ she realized. _Where am I supposed to get ready?_ Lynne hesitated, but then she decided to stop at the makeup counter in the department store.

Carrying her bag, Lynne consulted the map near the escalator and headed to the third floor, where she took the sales clerk's advice and asked the makeup artist to do her eyes. When she checked her reflection in the small hand mirror the woman handed to her, Lynne did a double take. The silver eyeshadow made her eyes look even brighter than usual, their lavender glow enhanced to something approaching lilac. Lynne knew she wouldn't have been able to pull that look off on her own, and she smiled at her reflection as she tipped the makeup artist. Checking her watch one more time, Lynne hurried to the restroom to change.

_This would be so much easier if I could just go back to Regal and change in the staff lounge,_ she thought, struggling to get the dress zipped up without touching the flimsy stall walls. _At least I'm already wearing pantyhose from work!_

She shoved her uniform into the garment bag and stepped out of the stall, giving herself the once-over in the horizontal mirror. Her shoes were plain, the practical black flats she wore for work, but the dress and makeup made her look chic and glamorous, even with the boring shoes. _But my hair's all wrong,_ she thought, studying the bun. Bending over, she shook her long dark hair out before tossing her head back and standing up again. "Better," she told her reflection with a half-smile. "Now, let's get this over with."

Her stomach churned as she walked back to the hotel. Glancing around the street, Lynne stood awkwardly off to the side of the main entrance, trying not to look at anyone who walked by. She hoped Edwards came down soon; she didn't want to risk explaining to one of the other employees why she was all dressed up and loitering outside Regal Towers.

Luckily, she didn't have to wait long; Edwards pushed through the revolving door and glanced around the sidewalk. His eyes skimmed over Lynne, not seeing her, but then he looked again, and he flashed the smile that made millions of moviegoers fall in love with him. Her heart fluttered at the thought of spending an entire evening with him, but Lynne forced herself to take a deep breath. _This is just business_ , she reminded herself firmly. _Don't be a star struck idiot._

Lynne swallowed nervously as she walked up to Edwards. "You look lovely," he told her, leaning over to whisper in her ear.

Lynne flushed at the unexpected feeling of his breath against her skin. "Thank you," she finally managed to say.

Without another word, he held out his arm to her, his eyes still locked on her face, and after a moment's hesitation, she took it. A shiver coursed up her spine at the contact, but she tried to ignore the sensation. _This isn't a date,_ she reminded herself firmly. _None of this is real._

"Let's get this over with," she said, her voice breathy despite her best intentions.

She'd wanted to annoy him enough that he'd stop staring at her like that, but Edwards only chuckled. "Not what my dates usually tell me," he teased, leading her to the waiting sedan at the curb.

Lynne felt heat race up her torso at his suggestive tone, but she forced herself to ignore the sensation. "Remember, this isn't a date. It's business," she said, repeating her thoughts out loud.

He paused, but then he nodded, opening the door of the car for her. "I know. But that doesn't mean it has to suck, right?"

Lynne considered his question, and then she shook her head. "I guess not." She lingered uncertainly on the sidewalk for a moment. "Thank you," she offered as she finally slid into the car, setting the garment bag at her feet.

Edwards slipped in after her, nodding briefly to the driver. "Of course." He paused, studying her face. "You really aren't one of my fans, are you?"

She bit her lip, wondering if it would be worse to lie to him or tell him the truth. _What would he say if he knew that I've seen all of his films at least twice?_ There was no reason to tell him that, or to tell him that she'd been as giddy as Carly when her boss told her that he would be the first guest in the Princess Suite who was entirely her responsibility. "Not a big movie person," she lied, hoping she sounded bored and disinterested.

Edwards chuckled as the car pulled smoothly into traffic. "Me neither, anymore. That's why I'm in New York; trying to give my career a jumpstart on the stage." He glanced at her, his green eyes piercing. "But I guess you heard that upstairs earlier."

Lynne shrugged, working hard to keep her expression neutral. "I wasn't paying attention," she lied again, even though she'd heard every word.

"You're good at your job, that's for sure," he said, leaning back against the leather seat of the car. "Lucky for me, I guess," he added under his breath.

She bit her lip. "Speaking of jobs," she began, unsure of how to bring up the confidentiality agreement, "don't I have to sign something?"

He slapped his forehead with his hand. "I left it sitting up in the suite." Edwards glanced at his watch. "We don't really have time to turn around in this traffic. Do you just want to sign it after?"

Lynne felt her cheeks flush at the idea of going back to his hotel room with him after the show. "I can come by tomorrow on my shift," she finally managed to say.

Edwards flashed her another smile. "Good. We just won't mention this to Davis; he'd tell me I was an idiot to trust you, but somehow I don't think you'll be calling the papers between now and then, right?"

Lynne shook her head. "Of course not! I'd never do anything like that."

He studied her for a moment. "I don't think you will," he said slowly, as if he was seeing her for the first time. "But you'd be surprised what people will do for a few minutes of fame."

Lynne looked away. "Let's just focus on tonight. Who's Moyra?"

He snorted. "So you were listening. Moyra Ransom, my ex-wife."

Lynne vaguely remembered the tabloid explosion when they'd split up; everyone thought they were Hollywood's golden couple, destined to be together forever, but it had turned sour sometime the previous year. She hadn't connected the name with his ex, and she bit her lip. "I'm sorry," she offered, putting her hand on his knee impulsively. "Divorce is never fun."

He eyed her critically. "You sound like you're speaking from experience."

She hesitated, wondering how much she should tell him. _If this was a real date, I'd never bring up divorce in the first place._ Lynne glanced at the movie star beside her, and suppressed a thrill of delight when she realized he was watching her intently. _But this isn't a real date_ , she reminded herself firmly, pulling her hand away. "Yeah," she finally said, deciding there was no harm in sharing a little bit about her personal life. "Mine was a mess." The words sounded light, but it had taken Lynne years to be able to even think about the divorce without completely losing it.

Edwards studied her, but Lynne couldn't read his expression. "How long were you together?"

"Just three years. Well," she amended, "married for three. We'd been dating about a year and a half before we eloped." Reflexively, Lynne reached for the silver cuff around her wrist, and his eyes followed her movement, but to her relief, he didn't ask about it.

"You had it worse than me," he said. "Moyra and I had only been together two years, total."

Lynne nodded. "I remember." She cringed as soon as the words left her mouth; she'd just admitted to reading the tabloids.

Edwards raised an eyebrow. "You said you weren't a fan?"

Lynne laughed self-consciously. "Hard to miss the gossip rags, even if I wanted to."

He seemed to accept her answer. "It was...rough," he admitted. "Nowhere to hide."

"I can't imagine what that must have been like," she said. "I thought facing my mother after the fact was the worst thing I'd ever done; in my family, divorce just isn't an option."

"That's hard." He paused. "Any kids?"

Lynne shook her head. "No, thank goodness. That would have been even more awful to sort out."

"Me, neither, but you probably knew that already." He gave her a half smile, and Lynne couldn't help the answering grin that crept onto her face.

"Did you ever want kids?" She paused, biting her lip. "I'm sorry. That was a personal question."

To her surprise, Edwards threw back his head and laughed. "You're kidding, right? Lynne, you're my date. You're allowed to ask personal questions."

"It's not a date," she grumbled, struggling to ignore the way her heart sped up when he said her name. "Remember? This is about business."

He shook his head. "I wish you'd quit saying that." Emerald eyes locked on hers, and for a moment, Lynne felt breathless.

_What would it be like to really date him?_ "But it's the truth," she finally managed to say, her eyes never leaving his.

"True. But wouldn't you rather just pretend you could enjoy yourself, even a little?"

His voice was silky, and Lynne felt a little unbalanced. She bit her lip nervously. "I guess," she said slowly.

He rewarded her with a genuine smile. "Good. Stop thinking of this as business. And call me Carter, for God's sake. None of this 'Mr. Edwards' stuff." He raised an eyebrow. "Got it?"

Lynne, nodded, feeling her resolve begin to unravel. "Okay...Carter," she said, enjoying the way his name felt in her mouth.

Carter gave her a charming smile. "I don't usually have to convince women to be seen with me. You're...different." He swept his eyes over her face, lingering for a moment on her mouth, and Lynne resisted the urge to bite her lower lip again.

"Maybe I'll be good for your ego," she said, trying to sound as if his attention hadn't filled her stomach with butterflies.

He leaned across the seat toward her. "Maybe you will," he said, studying her face. "When's the last time you let yourself have a little fun?

Lynne shook her head, uncomfortably aware of just how close Carter was to her. "I can't remember," she admitted, meeting his gaze.

"I'm going to go out on a limb here and say you've earned it."

To her surprise, tears welled up in her eyes at his words. Lynne blinked rapidly, hoping he hadn't noticed. "Yeah, well, we can't all play all the time." He had no way of knowing just how hard she'd had to work, and there was no reason for her to dump her demons in his lap, even if he was probably the most attractive man she'd ever seen.

Instead of reacting to her barb, Carter paused a moment before reaching a hand toward her face as if he was going to stroke her cheek.

Lynne pulled back before he could touch her, and looked out the window, her heart racing as she struggled to get a grip on her emotions. _What have I gotten myself into?_

### CHAPTER FIVE

_Damn._ Carter shook himself and looked away from Lynne. He wasn't supposed to be attracted to her; she was his pity date, not some starlet waiting to be seduced. He glanced at her again, but she was still looking out the window. He wasn't sure what he'd expected, but an honest conversation about divorce sure wasn't on the list. He hadn't really talked to anyone about Moyra; when the tabloids had already told the story, what was the sense in adding fuel to the fire by admitting that she'd left him, or that he'd flaked out on a contract because of it? _Who would have thought a total stranger would understand exactly what I've been through?_

Carter shook his head. He still didn't think Davis's suggestion was the best idea, but he wasn't ready to face Moyra alone, and since his manager had nixed his other suggestions for a date, he was stuck with Lynne. At least, that's what he'd been trying to remind himself ever since he came down from his room and saw her, dressed in that clingy black number, hovering nervously by the hotel entrance.

He risked another glance at her, his eyes skimming over her legs and up the dress that hugged her body in all the right places. His heart started to beat faster as he studied her form, but when his mind began spinning a fantasy about what she'd look like without the dress on, he shut himself down immediately. _You heard her,_ he admonished himself. _This is just business._

The car pulled up in front of the swanky bistro Davis had recommended, and Carter schooled his features in anticipation of getting out of the car, pulling on the casual half-smile that had made him famous. When he turned to Lynne, he realized her eyes were trained on him. _How long has she been watching?_

Reminding himself that he didn't care, he smiled at her. "Ready?"

Lynne gestured to the window. "This isn't Broadway."

"No, but it's customary to eat first. You know, dinner and a show?"

Lynne rolled her eyes. "I don't remember agreeing to that."

_God, was he really that awful to spend time with?_ Carter sighed. "You have to eat, right?"

She crossed her arms and leveled her gaze at him.

Carter leaned across her to open the curb-side door. "I'll take that as a yes." His arm brushed against her thigh, and even through his coat, he felt a pulse of heat from the contact. Lynne sucked in her breath, and Carter repressed a satisfied chuckle. _I guess she's not as rigid as she looks,_ he thought, tilting his head closer to Lynne's face for a moment before he slowly pulled back.

She didn't say anything, just scrambled out of the car like she'd been burned, and Carter had a genuine smile on his face as he slid across the seat after her.

There weren't any reporters waiting on the curb, but Carter didn't let himself relax. He tried to make small talk with Lynne while they waited for their meal, but she answered him with monosyllables and sharp glances, so Carter finally gave up. _You'd think she'd be happy to be out with a celebrity,_ he thought grouchily as they finished their food in silence.

Before they could leave, a couple of college-aged girls approached the table. One was giggling, but the other flipped her hair over her shoulder and tried to look confident. Carter greeted them with a smile, signing the notebooks they held out with a flourish, and he waved at them as they retreated, staring at his autograph like it was the best thing that had happened to them all week.

When he turned back around, Lynne was studying him. "Doesn't it ever get old?"

Carter pretended not to understand. "What, dining in New York? Something I always look forward to."

Lynne shook her head. "Never mind," she said, setting her napkin down and pushing her chair back. "Are you ready to go?"

Wordlessly, he paid the check and offered her his arm, and after a beat, she plastered a smile on her face and took it. Carter wished he could tell her that he hated signing autographs almost as much as he hated flying; he was dyslexic, and he'd been known to misspell his name more times than he cared to count. But after that genuine moment in the car earlier, Carter didn't want to drop his guard around Lynne. Sure, it would be nice to have someone he could actually talk to, but that wasn't why he was in New York. _Besides,_ he thought as they walked arm in arm toward Time Square, _She's made it perfectly clear that she's not interested in anything but business._

They walked to the theatre in silence, but Carter grabbed the door and held it open for Lynne, even as she reached for it herself. She glanced at him, and her demeanor seemed to soften.

"Thank you," she finally said, giving him a small smile.

Carter grinned at her for a moment, and then schooled his features. _What's wrong with me? It's not like I can't make women fall for me at the drop of a hat...so why does that little smile from her feel like I won first prize?_

A few people gestured to him in the lobby, and he heard the undecided whispers as they tried to figure out if he really was who he looked like, but Carter ignored them. Smoothly, he handed the usher his tickets, and then he gestured for Lynne to walk ahead of him. His eyes strayed to her hips, and he gave himself a mental shake.

When they were seated, Lynne looked around the theatre with interest. "I'd heard this revival is pretty good, but I hadn't made time to see it yet."

Carter shrugged. "It's been getting rave reviews," he admitted with a twinge of jealousy. _Leave it to Moyra to make a splash without even trying._

Lynne seemed to read his uncharitable thoughts, and she glanced at the play bill in her lap. "Which part is she playing?"

"The lead, who else?" Carter didn't really like musicals, and he hadn't paid attention when Davis had briefed him on Moyra's character that afternoon.

Lynne flipped open her play bill. "There are two female leads in this show," she told him, her eyes skimming the cast list. "She's playing Sarah."

"Good to know," Carter said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

"I always thought Adelaide was a better role, personally," Lynne offered. "More personality."

Carter looked at her, and then he chuckled. "She never had much personality," he admitted quietly. He was gratified when Lynne smiled at him, her violet eyes dancing. _Maybe this won't be such a bad show after all._

When the curtain lifted, he tried to focus on the stage, but within minutes, he'd given up. Musicals might as well have been a form of torture as far as he was concerned, and just because Davis had forced him to go to the show, that didn't mean he needed to actually pay attention. But despite his thoughts on musicals in general, he noticed that Lynne was watching the stage with rapt attention, and he smiled when he caught her unconsciously mouthing the words to the songs.

Even though he knew he shouldn't, he couldn't keep himself from fantasizing just a little bit about what it would be like to lean over and brush his lips against her temple in the semi-dark of the theatre. Her skin would feel soft against his mouth, he was sure, and he had a feeling that he wouldn't smell anything but Lynne: she didn't strike him as the type to pour on a lot of perfume, which was fine with him. He'd actually always thought low-maintenance women were sexier than anyone gave them credit for, but he had to admit that he loved the way she'd done her makeup; he hadn't remembered her eyes looking quite so bright when he'd seen her earlier up in the penthouse.

The lights in the theatre came up suddenly, and Carter shook himself out of his daydream. He smiled brightly at Lynne. "Intermission already?"

She nodded. "I'll be right back...if that's okay?"

"Of course! Just don't sneak out and leave me here," he teased, lowering his voice. "I don't think I can stand the second act without you."

She rolled her eyes, but he could still see a faint flush creeping up her cheeks before she slipped out of her seat and joined the crowd in the aisle. Carter chuckled to himself and leaned back, tipping his head up to study the ornate ceiling of the theatre.

"Edwards, is that you?" A voice broke him out of his reverie, and Carter inwardly groaned. He'd been enjoying being anonymous with Lynne, but he stood up and grinned at the man like he was thrilled to see him. Wracking his memory, Carter shook the guy's hand, still smiling, but he couldn't remember his name. _He's a director; I know that much. Did I already audition for him, or is he on the schedule later this week?_

"Nice to see you," he bluffed with the smile.

The director pushed his thick glasses up his nose. "Likewise. I must say, we were all impressed by your reading this afternoon."

Shifting through the auditions he'd been to that day, Carter finally placed the guy. "That's good to hear, Mr. Spinelli. It's been a long time since I've done anything on the stage; I was worried I'd be too rusty."

Spinelli shook his head. "Not at all, not at all. I'm sure you'll find a show that's a perfect fit. Have you considered going for any of the more avant-garde productions?"

Carter shrugged. "I don't know. Davis has been keeping his ear to the ground, though. Did you have any suggestions?"

The director adjusted his glasses again. "No, nothing comes to mind, but I know that having a big name like Carter Edwards could make a little experimental show a success. You might consider checking off-Broadway and see if anything appeals, too."

_And waste my time on a show that won't deliver a paycheck? No, thanks._ Carter forced a smile. "I'll consider it." He waved to Spinelli, and he wondered fleetingly if the conversation had been the director's way of letting him know he didn't get the part. His chest clenched at the thought; even though he hadn't really been invested in any of his auditions that far, he didn't want to wash out before he'd even begun, and the quick interchange with Spinelli had rattled him.

Lynne came back to her seat, and she cast a curious look at his face. "What happened?"

He pulled himself together and gave her a casual shrug. "Just bored, that's all."

She looked like she was about to say something, but then she clicked her mouth shut and flipped open her playbill. For a moment, Carter wanted to tell her the doubts he was having about his ability to give his career a facelift, but luckily, the orchestra started up before he could speak, and Lynne lifted her face to the stage with a smile. _She's actually enjoying the show,_ Carter thought, watching her for a moment before he turned his gaze back to the performance. Throughout the second act, though, he paid more attention to Lynne, listening for her reactions and sometimes deliberately brushing his arm against hers on their shared armrest. Every time he touched her, Carter felt a delicious shiver course through him that had nothing to do with the play. _Maybe I can convince her that this shouldn't just be about business._ Carter grinned as that dangerous thought went through his mind, and he glanced sideways at Lynne again. This time, she was staring back at him, and their eyes locked for a moment before she pulled her attention back to the stage. It was hard to tell in the dark theatre, but Carter thought he saw a blush staining her cheeks, and he smiled to himself, wondering what it would take to start something real with the woman beside him.

### CHAPTER SIX

Lynne wasn't sure what to make of Edwards. She thought she'd almost seen a glimmer of a real person a couple of times that evening, but the glimpses were gone before she could react, so Lynne brushed them aside and told herself to stop worrying if he was fake or genuine. _This isn't a date_ , she reminded herself for the umpteenth time as she sat beside him in the dark theatre, resisting the urge to hum along to _Guys and Dolls_.

Still, when her arm accidentally brushed against his during the second act, Lynne felt a delicious shiver slip through her body. _The sex appeal is real_ , she finally decided, pulling her hand back and keeping it in her lap for the rest of the play. _He couldn't fake that. But that doesn't mean I have to react._

By the time the curtain dropped, Lynne had almost managed to shut down the part of her mind that was attracted to Edwards's charm. She stood as soon as the lights came back up, and was surprised when she felt a firm tug on her hand. Tingles raced up her arm and she pulled away before shooting a curious glance at Carter.

He gestured to the aisle crammed with people. "Might as well sit for a little bit; no sense fighting the crowds."

Lynne knew he was right, but she had no idea what to say to pass the time. Reluctantly, she sat back down beside him, angling her body slightly to face him. "Um," she began, "did you like the show?"

He snorted. "Musicals aren't really my thing, but it wasn't bad." He paused, his brow furrowing. "I better make sure Davis doesn't throw my hat in for any musicals," he added, lowering his voice.

Lynne shook her head. "Well, _I_ liked it. This show's always been one of my favorites."

Skeptical green eyes met her own. "Seriously?" He glanced at the velvet curtain obscuring the set before turning back to her. "Why?"

His gaze made her palms start to sweat, and Lynne swallowed. "It's got all the best songs."

Edwards raised an eyebrow. "You like the music? Not the romance?"

She laughed. "When you think about it, it really isn't that romantic; a couple of women try to get guys to change for them, but at the end, the men are still mobsters and the girls tag along for the ride."

He shook his head. "I thought women loved the bad boy."

Lynne rolled her eyes. "Not all women."

He studied her face. "So tell me," he said slowly, "what you'd consider romantic?"

Her pulse jumped. "None of your roles," she said tartly, even though she'd loved him in just about every movie he'd done. _No reason for him to know that,_ she reminded herself. _This is business, not pleasure._

"I think we've already established that you aren't my biggest fan. But I'm curious," he said, leaning forward slightly. "What's your brand of romance? Flowers and chocolate? Long walks on the beach?"

Lynne forced a laugh, even though she was having a hard time thinking straight the closer Edwards got to her face. "I don't know. I've always thought the Statue of Liberty was a pretty romantic spot."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "We are talking about _romance_ , right? Not, I don't know, sites of historical interest?"

"You can see the whole city from out there, especially if you go up into her crown, but it's a spot a lot of people miss, since it takes time to catch the ferry to get out to her island."

Edwards studied her. "So it's the view, or the Statue herself that does it for you?"

"Both," she admitted, warming to her subject. "Did you know she was originally designed as a lighthouse in Egypt?"

He shook his head incredulously. "Really?"

She nodded. "That was Bartholdi's original design, but the project ran out of money, so he looked for a new home for her." Lynne paused, noticing the strange look Edwards was giving her. "What?"

"I don't meet many people like you," he said slowly.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He stood up abruptly. "Never mind. Let's get out of here. We still have to put in an appearance at the after party." He gestured to the now-clear aisle, and Lynne reluctantly turned away. She wanted to ask him what he meant by the last comment, but part of her wasn't sure she really wanted to know. _What kind of people would a celebrity be used to?_ _Pretty, wealthy, fascinating?_ Lynne bit her lip. _I'm not really any of those things,_ she thought as she headed up the aisle in front of Edwards. She gave herself a shake. "It shouldn't matter," she reminded herself firmly.

"Sorry, what was that?" Edwards was right behind her, and Lynne swallowed. She hadn't realized she'd spoken out loud.

"Nothing," she said cheerily. "Now, where's the after party?"

He consulted his phone. "There's a private club around the corner. Looks like that's where we're supposed to be."

Lynne hesitated. "Is this dress okay? I didn't realize the party would be formal."

His eyes traveled slowly over her frame, making Lynne uncomfortably aware of the attention he was paying to every inch of her. "You look delicious," he finally said, his green eyes bright.

She crossed her arms, hoping he couldn't see the way her pulse had started jumping at her throat. "That's not an answer, but it'll have to do."

He walked up the aisle toward her and deliberately slid his hand around her waist. Even through the dress, Lynne felt the heat of his touch, and she tried to pull away. Edwards tightened his grip gently. "Remember," he said, his face hovering dangerously close to hers, "you need to act like my date. At least pretend to like me."

After a moment, she nodded, unable to take her eyes away from his smoldering gaze. For a moment, they stood frozen, his lips dangerously closer to hers, and Lynne wondered what it would be like to kiss him. He seemed to read the thought in her eyes, because he brought his face closer. Lynne parted her lips, trying to decide if she was a fool for wanting this or not, and she closed her eyes reflexively.

Instead of the pressure she'd expected on her mouth, Lynne felt a feather-light touch on her cheek. Her eyes sprang open in time to see Carter pull away with a half-smile. "That's good," he said quietly. "If you can pull that off at the party, you might even convince me."

He stepped away from her, and before Lynne could sort through her tangled emotions, he casually wrapped his hand around hers. With a gentle tug, he led her out of the theatre, and Lynne followed, torn between the urge to melt into his arms and smack him for teasing her like that. _Just because he oozes charm doesn't mean I have to fall for him,_ she reminded herself, but some of her earlier resolve had vanished in the wake of their almost-kiss.

She studied Carter out of the corner of her eye. It was hard to tell what was an act and what was reality with him, but it felt like the kiss might have been the real thing, if it had happened. _But maybe this is all just a game to him?_ The thought gave Lynne a strange sinking sensation in her stomach, and she was feeling subdued when they reached the after party.

### CHAPTER SEVEN

Carter was enjoying the feeling of Lynne's hand in his more than he cared to admit. _If I could choose how I'd spend the evening,_ he thought, _there's nothing I'd like more than to just wander around New York with her._ It would have been a reprieve from facing Moyra, but that wasn't the only reason Carter let his mind spin a mini-fantasy about sightseeing with Lynne. Even thought they'd only spent a few hours together, he couldn't shake the sensation that she would never expect him to be anything but himself...in fact, she'd probably be angry with him if he wasn't genuine. Carter cracked a smile and glanced in her direction, but Lynne's eyes were hooded and she appeared lost in thought. Reminding himself that, for the time being at least, he was essentially on the clock, Carter tried to shift back into his confident persona. _I really shouldn't be thinking about Lynne right now,_ he reminded himself. _I should be worrying about seeing Moyra again._

The thought made him feel slightly sick, and he glanced down at Lynne. "Don't tell anybody, but sometimes, I really hate the whole celebrity thing."

"Is it hard? Having to be on like that all the time, I mean."

He considered telling her it was easy as pie, but for some reason, he didn't want to lie to her. It had been a long time since he'd had anyone he wanted to open up to, and even then, he was usually talking to people in the industry. Carter was in uncharted territory with Lynne, and he realized that he didn't want to say anything that would make her dislike him. _Probably not time to dump all my skeletons on her,_ he decided. "It's gotten easier over time," he said truthfully, although it was only a half-truth. It seemed to get both easier and harder, and Carter was getting secretly sick of all the trappings that came with a famous face.

"I know what you mean." She laughed self-consciously when he raised his eyebrow. "I mean, I know I'm not famous, but the having to be on all the time, having to keep a smile on your face, that's the same thing I do every day at Regal."

"How long have you been there?"

"About seven years. At first, I really struggled with it, juggling the stress of the job with the smile and willingness to bend over backwards for our guests, but like you said, it's easier the longer I do it."

"What did you do before?"

Lynne hesitated. "I was in retail."

Carter had the sense there was more to it that she didn't feel comfortable sharing, and although his curiosity was up, he didn't press her. "I never did retail, but I delivered papers when I was a kid."

Lynne laughed. "People still did that when you were growing up?"

He struck his chest as if he were wounded. "Are you saying I'm old?"

She shook her head. "Nope. I'm not that much younger than you, so if you're old, what does that make me?"

"How old are you?" He hadn't really tried to peg her before, but with that rich dark hair and her fit, curvy body, she could easily be in her late twenties.

"Thirty-eight," she said shyly. "And you just turned forty-five, right?"

He grinned at her. "So you do read the tabloids!"

She blushed. "Maybe once in a while."

"I knew it. You're secretly my biggest fan," he teased, watching her face for her reaction.

She rolled her eyes, but he thought he saw a smile playing around her lips.

When they got to the club, Carter flashed his standard smile at the doorman. "Hope we're not too late."

The doorman glanced at his phone. "Name?"

Carter felt his smile falter, but he plastered it back on before Lynne or the doorman could notice. "Edwards. Carter Edwards."

The guy scanned his phone for a moment, tapping the screen a few times, but then he shook his head. "Not on the list," he said simply, turning away from Carter without a second glance.

Carter clenched his jaw. _This seriously isn't happening, is it?_ He tapped the doorman on the shoulder. "I'm sure there's been a mistake. Could I speak to Moyra?"

"Look, buddy, I'm sure you mean well, but this is a private party, and like I said, you aren't on the list. There are plenty of other places in town; why don't you go find one?"

Carter tensed, and for a moment, he considered punching the obnoxious doorman, but then he felt Lynne tug on his arm. Struggling to get a grip on the surge of anger and embarrassment that was still boiling in his chest, he glanced down at her. _There goes any chance of impressing her,_ he thought. _Now she knows I'm just a washed-up has been._

Lynne met his gaze without flinching. She gestured over the doorman's bulky shoulders into the dark club. "Isn't that her?"

He glanced up, surprised to spot Moyra hugging somebody just inside the threshold. Ignoring the bouncer, he cupped his hand to his mouth and yelled, "Hey! Firecracker!"

The doorman advanced toward him, but Carter kept his eyes fixed on his wife. She'd jerked like she'd been slapped when he shouted the old nickname, and he saw her recognize him. For a moment, she paused, and Carter suddenly wondered if she'd take some kind of sadistic pleasure in pretending not to hear and letting the doorman turn him away, but then she walked toward them, a bright smile on her face.

"Firecracker?" Lynne muttered beside him.

He shrugged and lowered his voice. "The red hair is natural," he offered by way of an explanation.

Moyra reached the doorman just as he grabbed Carter's arm. "Darling!" She glided forward, her arms out, and Carter knew he had to play along. He gripped her hands and air kissed her cheek as she did the same, even though his stomach tightened at her touch. "It's been too long."

The doorman stepped back, his shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry, Miss Ransom. I didn't realize he was a friend."

Moyra's laugh was like breaking glass to Carter, but he forced himself to chuckle. "No harm done," he offered jovially as Moyra led him into the club. He glanced over his shoulder to find Lynne trailing him, and his chest constricted at the hurt expression on her face. _She has to be able to tell how fake this all is,_ he thought, letting go of Moyra as soon as they were inside the dark club.

She raised a perfect eyebrow. "This is a surprise," she said. Anyone watching would have thought she was thrilled to see him, but Carter knew her too well; her smile didn't reach her eyes, and neither did his.

"I just got into town," he said smoothly, "and of course I had to come see you. You were excellent!"

A tall man in a charcoal suit coat slid his hand around Moyra's waist and grinned at her with a possessive expression. "I've been telling her that for months, haven't I, darling?"

She leaned into him, and Carter hated himself for the surge of angry jealousy that shot through him. Reflexively, he reached behind him for Lynne, grabbing her hand and pulling her forward. Casually, he draped his hand over her shoulders, ignoring the way she tensed at his touch. _I'll make it up to her later_ , he promised himself.

Moyra's eyes traveled over his date with interest, and Carter felt a little thrill at the muscle that jumped in his ex's cheek. _She's jealous,_ he realized, pulling Lynne even closer to him.

"Forgive me for being such an oaf," Moyra said with a laugh. "Carter, this Hendricks. My fiancé."

The world spun for a moment, and Carter couldn't think of anything to say. His mouth was suddenly dry, and when a waiter walked by at that moment carrying a tray loaded with drinks, Carter grabbed one. "Cheers, then," he said, holding the glass up to Moyra and her fiancé before he slammed it back.

Moyra was watching him with a knowing expression. "You forgot to get a drink for your date, Carter." She emphasized the word _date_ , and Carter realized he'd also forgotten to introduce Lynne. He turned to her, expecting annoyance, but he wasn't prepared for the force of the glare she directed at him.

"This is Lynne," he said, reminding himself that he wasn't there to make a fool of himself; Davis would kill him if he wasted the opportunity to schmooze just because Moyra had ripped his heart out five minutes after he got to her party. "Lynne, Moyra and Hendricks."

Lynne faked a smile and shook Moyra's hand. "The show was a lot of fun tonight," she said.

Moyra smiled. "Thank you, honey." She leaned forward conspiratorially. "You seem like you've got your hands full with that one," she said, tipping her head toward Carter. He resisted the urge to grab another drink, instead slapping an indulgent smile on his face.

Lynne glanced up at him and then back to Moyra. "I can handle it," she said, her tone dismissive.

Carter almost laughed at the stunned expression on his ex's face; she wasn't used to people who didn't fawn over her, and Lynne's demeanor clearly threw her off. But she recovered quickly, flashing Carter a bright smile before she curled her fingers around Hendrick's arm. "It's so good of you both to come, but if you'll excuse me, I have to greet my other guests."

Another waiter passed by as Moyra and Hendricks sauntered off into the crowd, and this time, Carter grabbed a pair of glasses. "Here," he said, handing one to Lynne with a fake smile in case Moyra was still watching. "Might as well enjoy ourselves."

Instead of taking the drink, Lynne crossed her arms. "No, thanks."

Carter debated offering it to her again, but then he shrugged. "More for me, I guess." In one long swallow, he drained the first glass, smoothly depositing it back on the waiter's tray before taking a gulp from the second. God, his nerves were shot. He'd known seeing Moyra would do a number on him, but he sure as hell hadn't expected to be forced to shake hands with her new boy-toy. _Fiancé_ , he corrected himself bitterly. Why hadn't Davis warned him?

He glanced at Lynne, already feeling the edge of his pain dulled a bit from the wine. "What did you think of my wife?"

"Not as good of an actress as I would have thought," she finally offered under her breath.

Carter let out a sharp laugh, and a few people around them turned their heads. He took a step closer and leaned down, bringing his mouth alongside Lynne's ear. "In the show, or just now?"

Instead of reacting to his closeness like she had earlier, Lynne took a step away and shrugged. "Both." She glanced around the crowd, her face unreadable. "How long do we have to stay?"

Surprised at her icy tone, Carter was at a loss for words for a moment. _Did I completely imagine the chemistry between us back at the theatre?_ "I thought you were having a good time."

A flash of emotion crossed her face, but it was gone before Carter could decipher it. "I'm tired, and I have to be at work early tomorrow. So let's just get this over with."

Carter shoved his hands into his pockets. "No one's forcing you to be here, you know."

Lynne turned her cold stare on him. "No?" She raised an eyebrow. "I must have misunderstood the arrangement, then." Whirling on her heel, she stalked away from him toward the door of the club.

_Is she seriously going to leave?_ Carter admired the gesture, but he was stunned when Lynne actually walked past the bouncer and out onto the street. He started to feel antsy, wondering if she was just trying to make a point, or if he should go after her. _But I haven't even talked to any of the people Davis wanted me to meet_ , he realized with an inward groan. _If I leave now, the whole evening will be a waste._ Still, he hesitated for a moment, his eyes lingering on the door, but Lynne didn't reappear, and finally, Carter straightened up and plastered an easy, casual smile on his face as he started to work the room. He grabbed another drink just so he'd have something to do with his hands, and even though he'd been schmoozing for years, he felt a pang of loneliness as he chatted with Broadway's finest on his own.

Not that he blamed Lynne for leaving; the whole evening had devolved into a painful farce, and Carter knew he shouldn't have tried the possessive act when he introduced her to Moyra, but his instincts took over. All he'd wanted to do was make Moyra jealous, like some ridiculous teenager, and Carter was pretty sure his behavior had pissed Lynne off. _I'll have to find some way to make it up to her,_ he thought as he migrated around the room, talking and laughing and not giving a damn about anyone he met. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so guilty, and he only hoped Lynne would give him a chance to apologize the next time he saw her.

### CHAPTER EIGHT

Lynne stalked down the sidewalk, her eyes skimming the streets for a cab. She wasn't sure who she was angrier with: Carter for acting like an idiot, or herself for leaving him alone. When Moyra introduced Hendricks, Lynne had seen a flicker of pain in Carter's face before he pulled his mask back on, and she felt sorry for him. Meeting his ex was bad enough, but then to have to find out that she'd moved on? Lynne shuddered, thankful that she hadn't had a reason to bump into John since the divorce.

Her steps slowed, and for a moment, Lynne considered going back to the ridiculous party. She could imagine how wretched Carter was feeling, and she hated the thought of abandoning him to that herd of fake people, but then she remembered the way he slugged back the drinks. Lynne clenched her fingers and kept walking.

Just because she'd been sober for nearly seven years didn't mean it wasn't still an incredible test of will to be offered a drink. Lynne had almost said yes, and that scared her: usually, she was able to rationalize and talk herself out of any temptation, but for some reason, she'd found it harder to keep her walls up when Carter had offered her that glass. _What is it about him? I feel like I can't be with him for long periods of time without starting to forget myself._ Maybe it was the movie star aura he wore so casually, despite the chinks in his armor that Lynne had glimpsed throughout the evening. She shook her head and hailed a cab. _I can't fall for the glamor,_ she reminded herself. _It's not like anything could ever be real with him._

Spending the rest of the money Davis had shoved at her on the cab, Lynne enjoyed the relative luxury of being driven back to her small apartment in Brooklyn. She tipped her head back against the seat and closed her eyes, trying to sift through the evening. When had she _really_ been with Carter, and when had she been with the movie star persona?

_Why does it even matter?_ She chastised herself as she got out of the cab. "It's not like this could ever be anything real," she muttered out loud. When she got up to the door of the converted Brownstown, she reached for her keys only to remember that she'd left them in the pocket of her suit...which was tucked in a bag in Carter's car. Lynne groaned and pressed the buzzer. She waited a moment, and then the speaker crackled to life.

"Who is it?" Her neighbor's voice sounded scratchy, and Lynne cringed, realizing that the woman had probably been asleep.

"Sorry, Mrs. Abbot. It's Lynne from upstairs."

There was a pause, and then the lock clicked. Lynne slipped into the foyer, past the apartment doors on the ground floor, and headed up the old staircase.

Mrs. Abbot met her on the second floor landing, her usually floral-covered form draped in a pale pink bathrobe. Lynne felt even more guilty than she had on the stoop.

"I'm sorry," she began as her neighbor handed Lynne the spare key to her apartment.

"No worries, darlin'," Mrs. Abbot said in her lilting accent. Even though Lynne knew Mrs. Abbot had left her childhood home of Barbados decades ago, every time her neighbor spoke, Lynne could almost imagine she'd been transported to the island.

Lynne smiled at her warmly. "I appreciate it," she said, "and I hope I didn't wake you."

Mrs. Abbot shrugged gently. "This is the first time in all these years that you've needed to, so I'm not minding." She eyed Lynne's fancy dress and makeup. "Were you out with a gentleman?"

Lynne snorted before she could stop herself. "Something like that," she finally said. She hoped her neighbor didn't press for details; she hadn't thought up any story to tell people who asked who she'd been out with.

To her relief, Mrs. Abbot didn't pry. She just smiled a slow, knowing smile. "Sometimes it's more fun when they aren't gentlemen all the time."

Lynne chuckled, thinking about Carter's green eyes and penetrating gaze. "Maybe you're right." She waved as she began to climb up to the third floor, and after a moment, she heard Mrs. Abbot's door click shut behind her. _It's just too bad I won't be able to find out what kind of guy he is,_ Lynne thought with regret. _I blew any chance of spending more time with him when I walked out tonight, deal or no deal._

When she got inside her apartment, Lynne kicked off her heels and padded into her cramped kitchen. She stared into the refrigerator for a moment before opening the freezer, but even the pint of double chocolate chip ice cream didn't seem appealing to her. She imagined she could still smell the champagne, and for a moment, she wondered what the bubbles would feel like against her throat. Shaking her head firmly, Lynne gave up on the kitchen.

Instead of going to bed and trying to sleep, Lynne changed out of the black lace dress and slipped on her comfortable, worn sweat pants. _I could probably still make it to the running group,_ she thought guiltily as she settled down on the meditation pillow that she kept tucked behind her T.V. After the divorce, after she got sober, she'd relied on exercise and meditation to help her clear her head and fight off the quiet compulsion to have just one more drink, but Lynne was tired of people after the evening with Carter, and as much as she loved the other crazies who ran with her in Central Park at midnight, she was too tired to trek all the way back across town just for a jog. Instead, she crossed her legs, sitting on the familiar meditation pillow, and closed her eyes, concentrating on her breathing.

Slowly, the apartment slipped away, followed less slowly by Lynne's conflicted feelings about the fake date. She'd been meditating for a long time, and she didn't usually have any trouble letting go of the day and finding her sweet spot of silence and introspection, but Carter Edwards' crooked smile kept flitting through her mind. Lynne remembered how her body heated up from his closeness in the theatre, and she thought of the moments when she'd seen snatches of the real person behind the movie star veneer. _What would it be like to kiss him?_ Firmly, Lynne pulled her mind away from the handsome movie star. She felt a flicker of irritation as the constantly submerged impulse to have a drink flared up for a moment before it, too, faded away as her breathing grew deeper and her shoulders relaxed.

When she finally opened her eyes again, the scent of alcohol was gone from her nose, and Lynne felt calm and detached. All the irritation of the evening had fled, but even as she curled up on the futon and fell asleep, Lynne couldn't stop her mind from turning, once more, to a pair of brilliant green eyes.

***

Lynne had only been at work for two hours, but she was already on her third cup of coffee. Although her meditation practice had allowed her to sleep the previous night, all the nerves that had been soothed were ragged again by the time she got to Regal Towers, and Lynne threw herself into her work, fervently hoping she wouldn't run into Carter. Part of her knew she should apologize for leaving the way she did, but even with the endorsement hanging on the line, Lynne couldn't bring herself to seek out the movie star. _He probably hates me for ditching him like that,_ she told herself as she distractedly helped a large family that was checking out hail a cab for the airport. _I'd hate me, if I were him._

She was still brooding on that thought when Carly breezed in for her shift. When Lynne saw her, she stopped chewing on her lip and stared.

Carly laughed and tossed her head. "What do you think?"

Yesterday, when the girl had left her shift, her hair had been shoulder-length and blond. That morning, it was cut to a razor sharp A-line, the tips brushing against Carly's jaw. It wasn't the cut that made Lynne stop and stare, though.

Finally, she found her voice. "It's...different, that's for sure."

Carly tossed her fire-engine red hair and grinned. "Isn't it great? I feel so sophisticated."

Lynne bit back the comment that the color sort of reminded her of a clown's wig, and forced a smile. "What made you change it?"

Carly glanced around the lobby and lowered her voice. "Well, I figured I only have one chance for... _someone_ to notice me, and I didn't want to waste it! And it seems like he has a thing for redheads."

Lynne sighed. "He's a bit old, don't you think?" Carly was only three years out of college, a good two decades younger than Carter. _I just don't want her to do anything stupid,_ Lynne told herself, even though she felt a strange surge of jealousy at the thought of Carly hooking up with Carter.

The girl frowned. "He's not that old! Besides," she added with a wicked grin as she came behind the registration desk, "I'm sure he still knows how to have fun."

_He certainly knows how to drink like a fish,_ Lynne thought. Almost immediately, she felt ashamed for the uncharitable turn her thoughts had taken, and she missed what Carly said next. There was a pause while the girl waited for a response, and then Lynne shook her head. "Sorry, Carly, I guess I zoned out. What was it?"

Carly wrinkled her nose. "I asked if he's come down yet this morning."

Lynne shrugged. "I don't think so, but then again, I haven't been paying that much attention." _Liar,_ she scolded herself. _You've been watching the elevator like a hawk._

Carly leaned on the counter and sighed. "I hope he comes by while I'm here. Aren't his eyes sexy?"

Lynne's stomach tightened as she remembered the way those eyes had studied her the previous night, flirty and full of promise. "I'm going to deal with some paperwork," Lynne said abruptly, turning to the office tucked behind the registration desk. "You can handle things up here, right?"

"Of course! Do you want me to tell you if _he_ comes by?"

"It doesn't matter," Lynne said, hurrying into the solitude of the small office and shutting the door behind her. Burying her head in her hands, Lynne took a deep breath. She spent most of her shift in the back office, but Carter didn't come down. Carly was despondent when she left for the day, and Lynne had a sick, twisted feeling in her stomach when two more days passed without either of them catching a glimpse of the movie star.

Lynne spent a lot of time hiding in the back, but that didn't mean she wasn't constantly on the edge of her chair, hoping that Carter would come down to talk to her or something. _I can't keep thinking about him_ , she told herself firmly. _He'll find me or not if he still needs a date, and hopefully he won't be angry that I left like that._ Lynne forced herself to focus on the mass of papers waiting to be sorted and filed on the desk, but even the tedious work couldn't push Carter out of her mind entirely, and her heart leapt into her throat when there was a firm knock on the office door.

Carly poked her head around the corner, and Lynne exhaled sharply. "What do you need?"

"You just got a call. From the penthouse," she added meaningfully. "The guest said he needed to speak with you about something."

Lynne's heart started pounding, but she schooled her face and tried to look professional. "I hope there wasn't an issue with housekeeping or anything this morning," she said, grasping at the first thing that came to mind.

Carly was watching her enviously. "I could run up there and check, if you're busy."

Lynne shook her head. "Thanks, but I think I better handle this."

Carly sighed. "You'll tell me what he's wearing, though, right?"

Shaking her head, Lynne headed for the elevators, trying to ignore the way her pulse was racing. _I guess I'll know in a minute if he's mad or not,_ she thought as she rode to the top floor.

Outside the Princess Suite, Lynne paused for a moment. She closed her eyes, swallowing nervously as she touched the bracelet for strength. Then, pulling her shoulders back, she knocked.

The door opened almost immediately, and Carter looked at her, his face unreadable. "Can you come in for a minute?"

She nodded, her heart in her throat. _Did I completely botch the endorsement? Oh, god, he's going to have me fired. All he has to do is tell my boss I made a pass at him._ Her thoughts twisted around in her mind as she stepped into the suite. Glancing nervously around for Davis, she swallowed. "Is everything—is everything alright, Mr. Edwards?"

He frowned. "I thought we got past all that formal crap, Lynne."

She tried not to react to the sound of her name on his lips. "About the other night," she began cautiously.

Carter raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"I'm—I'm sorry I ran off like that." She waited, but Carter didn't say anything. "I know it must have been hard for you to see her like that."

Carter rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Yeah, it was." He studied Lynne. "Why did you leave?"

Should she tell him the real reason? Lynne wasn't ashamed that she was a recovered alcoholic, but it wasn't something she usually went around broadcasting, either. She shrugged, embarrassed. "I guess the crowd was just too much for me," she finally offered.

Green eyes met hers. "Was it the crowd, or was it me?"

"Both," Lynne admitted. Before she could explain what she'd meant, Davis came out of the kitchenette, and Lynne jumped guiltily.

"There's our girl," he said, his cheer sounding fake to Lynne. "Did you have a good time the other night?"

She glanced swiftly at Carter, who shook his head. _He didn't tell his manager I dumped him?_ "Fine," she said as she searched for more to say. "The evening ended too early," she finally offered.

Davis waggled a finger at her. "You're not getting attached, now, are you Laura? Remember, this is business."

Lynne snapped her jaw shut and shook her head. Before she could correct the man again, Carter jumped in.

"Lynne, Davis needs you to sign that paperwork...if that's alright?" His eyes searched her face, but Lynne still couldn't read his expression.

She paused. "I guess it's fine by me. I wasn't sure you would still...need me." She'd been about to say "want me," but she caught herself just in time. If Carter hadn't told Davis how the night had ended, there was no reason for her to give him reason to question them. _Although I don't know why he didn't say anything,_ she thought, surreptitiously studying the movie star as he moved across the room to the small breakfast table.

"Just a standard nondisclosure," he said, pointing to a stack of papers on the table. "I also added the part about the hotel endorsement, and I've already signed."

Suddenly, Lynne was desperate to get him alone so she could ask him why on earth he still wanted her to be his date after she'd walked out on him, but Davis didn't show any sign of leaving. She swallowed her questions and nodded. "Of course. I'll just read it before I sign?"

Davis laughed. "Whatever you want, sweetheart." He clapped Carter on the shoulder and pulled him off to the side while Lynne sat down. Skimming the legalese quickly, she signed underneath Carter's illegible autograph.

As she set the pen down, Davis's phone rang, and he stepped out onto the balcony of the suite. Lynne looked up at Carter awkwardly, suddenly shy to be alone with him.

"I had your suit dry cleaned. It's hanging up by the door."

"Oh. Thank you," Lynne said, surprised that he'd taken the time to think of the pile of clothes she left in his car. She bit her lip, trying to figure out what to say, and Carter took a step closer.

"I was thinking," he began, his eyes never leaving her face, "maybe we could spend some time together tonight."

Lynne's throat went dry. "What did you have in mind?"

"Maybe, I don't know, sightseeing? I bet you don't get to play the tourist very often."

Lynne snorted. "I spend enough time trying to help tourists; why would I want to be one?"

Carter shrugged. "I don't know. New York seems like the city for it, you know?"

Lynne paused, her eyes glancing toward the nondisclosure agreement. "Is this an official date?"

Carter shook his head, his green eyes dancing. "Off the record."

"Why?" The word slipped out before Lynne could stop herself. She realized she somehow sounded both whiny and standoffish. "I mean, why do you want to spend more time with me after I bailed on you at the party?"

Carter searched her face, and then he shrugged again. "I don't get a chance to spend time with people I can really talk to very often," he said slowly. "But it seems like I can talk to you."

A ball of warmth unfurled in Lynne's stomach, and she fought the urge to blush. "I liked talking to you, too."

Carter smiled. "So it's a date?"

A thrill raced through her at the word, but Lynne shook her head firmly. " _Not_ a date."

"Fine. It's a sightseeing expedition. I'll meet you at Times Square around seven?"

Lynne nodded, trying to figure out what else to say, but Davis came back inside before she could think of anything.

"You've got another audition booked this afternoon." He glanced at Lynne and forced a smile. "We'll let you know when we need you again, sweetheart."

Lynne looked at Carter, and her feet almost melted when he winked at her.

"All right," she said, a slow smile creeping onto her face.

She was still smiling when she left the penthouse, and a stifled giggle escaped her lips as she waited for the elevator.

Who would have thought I'd get this excited about sightseeing?

### CHAPTER NINE

Carter fiddled with his hotel key nervously, flipping it over and over in his hand. _Was it a mistake to invite Lynne out?_ He pocketed the key and strode to the elevator, trying to feign confidence. _She could have said no,_ he reminded himself, punching the button and resisting the urge to keep fidgeting. He checked his reflection in the mirrored walls of the elevator, and he ran his hand through his hair, eyeing the gray self-consciously.

When the elevator doors opened in the lobby, however, there was no trace of the nervous man. Carter Edwards strode confidently through the hotel, not glancing at the reception desk as he went, even though he wanted to check and see if Lynne was still there or if she'd already left to meet him. On the street, a gust of warm air hit him, and Carter pulled out his sunglasses as much from habit as from the evening sunlight that was still reflecting off the tops of some of the buildings. He considered hailing a cab, but then he shook his head. _Davis keeps me too cooped up,_ he thought, lengthening his stride and setting off toward Times Square. _I'll have to talk to him about walking to some of my auditions; it feels good to stretch my legs._

By the time Carter reached the bustling tourist hub, he'd stopped worrying about Lynne and whether or not his impulse to spend more time with her was a mistake, but when he saw her standing in front of a pizza place, clutching her purse and trying unsuccessfully to avoid being jostled by the crowd, he felt a surge of anticipation pulse through him. She looked up as he crossed the busy intersection, and when her lavender eyes met his, Carter resisted the urge to check his hair one more time. _Why do I want to impress her so badly?_ He wondered as he sauntered over to Lynne, forcing himself to act casual.

She gestured at the mass of people. "I forgot how crazy it is down here. Remind me again why I agreed to play tourist with you?" One of her eyebrows lifted, but despite her words, Carter could sense her anticipation and excitement that almost matched his own. At least, he thought he could, but around Lynne, it was hard to know what was real and what was all in his head.

He grabbed her arm and steered her around the throng. "Live a little," he teased. "After all, this is New York. What kind of people would we be if we didn't at least pretend to fall under its spell?"

Lynne snorted, but Carter noticed that she didn't pull away from him, and his grip on her arm tightened slightly. "What did you have in mind?"

Carter hadn't really had anything planned; he'd been looking for an excuse to spend more time with Lynne, that was all. But his eyes fell on a sandwich board sign propped up on the corner beside an old restored trolley with a makeshift viewing deck on top, idling at the curb, and Carter started to smile. "What about that?" He tipped his head toward the sightseeing tour.

Lynne laughed. "Seriously? You want to drive around the city on a bus? We could just take public transit."

Carter slid his hand down and gave her fingertips a squeeze before he released her and reached for his wallet. "I bet you five bucks you'll have fun."

Lynne's eyes flashed with determination. "That's a lousy bet; what if I just lie and tell you it sucks, just to win?"

Carter shrugged. "I think you're scared to take my bet," he said, his eyes and his words holding a challenge that he didn't entirely understand.

Lynne locked gazes with him, and for a moment, the air around them felt hot and infused with energy. "You're on."

Grinning, Carter paid the fare and gestured to Lynne. "After you."

She paused for a moment, but then she pointed to the ladder leading to the half-full viewing deck. "Want the birds' eye view?"

Carter nodded, but as Lynne climbed the ladder in front of him, he wasn't thinking about the view of the city. He was more captivated by the view of her jeans clinging to her curves as she reached the top of the trolley. Lynne leaned on the railing and glanced down at him, and Carter shook himself. _This isn't a date_ , he reminded himself fiercely as he climbed up to join her. _Stop thinking with your hormones._

There were a few other people in the rows of seats lining the top of the trolley, but by comparison to the other tour buses Carter saw waiting along the curb, they were practically alone. Reaching for Lynne's hand, he pulled her to a bench at the front of the bus, facing the street. She let him lead her, but when they sat down, Lynne pulled her hand away, and Carter was surprised that he missed the feeling of her fingers against his palm. He leaned back in his seat, trying to act casual, but he couldn't help himself; he stretched an arm across the back of the bench and shifted deliberately, bringing himself close enough that Lynne could snuggle up against him if she wanted to without it seeming obvious.

She didn't, but Carter didn't drop his arm. "Haven't you been to New York before?" Lynne asked curiously.

Carter nodded. "I've worked on two projects that shot scenes here, but when I'm working, I don't get to do corny things like take a tour around the city."

"What is it like, when you're working? I mean, do you have a trailer or a makeup artists, or..." Lynne trailed off, a faint blush creeping up her cheeks. "Sorry. I don't mean to sound like an idiot. I've just—I've never met a movie star."

Carter winced inwardly. He hadn't wanted to keep reminding her of what he was, but here they were, barely ten minutes into the evening, and it was like he'd hung a flashing neon sign around his neck. _Movie star: look but don't touch._ He paused, considering his answer. "It's different," he began honestly. "It depends on the budget of the film. Usually, I'm spending the day shooting the same scene over and over again, but yeah, sometimes there's a trailer, and there's usually a whole team of makeup artists for the cast." The trolley jerked away from the curb and merged into the frantic traffic around them, and Carter looked down at the street. "I kind of don't want to talk about work tonight," he finally said, sneaking a glance back at Lynne.

"Oh." She chewed on her lip for a moment. "What do you want to talk about then?"

"Tell me about yourself. Have you always been a New Yorker?"

She laughed and ducked her head. "Well, technically, I live in Brooklyn now, and that's not usually what people mean when they say 'New Yorker'."

"Where did you grow up?"

"New Jersey, across the river from Philadelphia. But I came to New York for college."

"NYU?"

Lynne nodded. "What about you? Didn't you drop out of school?"

Carter eyed her thoughtfully. "I thought you said you didn't read the tabloids."

Lynne flushed again, and Carter studied her face, feeling an answering warmth begin to creep through his belly. He leaned closer to her, brushing a strand of hair away from her face just for an excuse to touch her. Lavender eyes locked on his, and for a moment, Carter wondered what would happen if he leaned even closer and brought his lips to hers. Lynne inhaled sharply as if she could hear his thoughts, but before Carter could act on impulse, Lynne looked away, breaking the spell.

"Where," she began, clearing her throat, "where did you go to school?"

_Damn,_ Carter thought ruefully, sitting back in his seat. _I have to stop treating this like a date. She's clearly not interested!_ Out loud, he said, "I was at a community college in Montana, near where I grew up, but you're right, I dropped out my last semester because a movie was shooting at a ranch nearby, and I had schmoozed my way in as one of the extras. The associate producer liked me, and told me that if I ever came to Hollywood to look him up." Carter laughed, remembering how young he'd been. "I thought he meant right then, so I dropped everything and headed to California as soon as shooting stopped."

"That took guts," Lynne said, her tone admiring.

Carter shrugged, feeling that strange desire to be honest with Lynne again. "It took stupidity more than anything, but sometimes stupid pays off. I got lucky; the guy remembered me, and told me about a few auditions, and then I just happened to show up with the right face at the right time."

"You're more than just a pretty face. I mean," Lynne said, backtracking when she saw Carter's suggestive smile, "I mean, you can clearly act, too, or you wouldn't keep getting roles."

He raised an eyebrow. "This from someone who's never seen any of my films?"

"Right," Lynne opened her mouth to say something else, but then she clicked her teeth shut and looked away. "It's weird to see the city from up high like this."

Carter looked around. He'd been ignoring the voice of the tour guide that was coming over the loudspeakers at the front of the trolley, and while they'd talked, they'd meandered away from Times Square and were now passing the facades of famous department stores. The sun had truly set while they were talking, and the streets were lit by street lights and brake lights from the clump of cars that still filled the road. "It's almost like a movie," Carter said before he could help himself.

"What do you mean?"

He struggled to explain. "The lights, the sounds, the buildings, everything feels too 'New York' to be real. It's like one big film set, something out of the golden era when coming to the big apple was supposed to make all your dreams come true."

Lynne chuckled. "If you want the real New York, you aren't going to see it riding around on a bus."

Carter shrugged. "You're probably right." He paused, studying her face. "So does that mean I lost the bet?"

Lynne smiled, and to his surprise, she scooched a little closer to him on the bench. "Ask me when the evening is over," she said, looking up at him with sparkling eyes.

### CHAPTER TEN

Even though it had been days since the strange sightseeing trip with Carter, Lynne still had a hard time believing it had really happened. The tour had been corny, but she hadn't minded sitting and talking with Carter, and when the bus deposited them back in Times Square, she'd told him he'd won the bet. _But it wasn't the sightseeing that was fun_ , she admitted to herself as she hurried about her duties at Regal Towers. _It was the fact that Carter Edwards almost kissed me!_

"Oh, shut up," she muttered to herself, her cheeks heating at the memory. Unless she was totally misreading the movie star, it seemed like he might possibly be interested in her. _Not that anything can come of it,_ she reminded herself firmly. She was his employee, his pity date, nothing more. So why was she feeling alternately giddy and nauseous whenever she thought of Carter's green eyes?

Carly wasn't at the front desk when the call came down from the penthouse. Lynne was sure the girl would give her the third degree whenever she got back, but even the thought of lying to Carly didn't fill Lynne with dread. She headed up to the Princess Suite with a spring in her step, even though she kept trying to rein her emotions in.

Davis answered the door, but he was talking on his cell phone. He waved to Lynne and she came in, feeling a little deflated. _What, did you think Carter was waiting up here alone to sweep you off your feet? This is business, remember._ She glanced around the suite, noticing that it still looked virtually untouched. _Either the housekeeping staff is taking their job really seriously, or Carter's not a slob like some guys,_ she thought at she looked around. Her eyes landed on the guy in question as he came out of the bedroom, buttoning the last few buttons on his shirt as he walked, and Lynne's pulse jumped. She smiled at Carter shyly, and he grinned at her, but before either of them could say anything, Davis hung up the phone and strode across the room to the bar, pouring himself a glass of scotch.

"That was Harold. There's a fundraiser this weekend out at the Hamptons. Some Broadway Cares thing or something; I didn't ask for details."

Carter rolled his eyes at Lynne. "I'm willing to bet I can't just send a check, right?"

Davis clapped him on the shoulder. "He's funny, I'll give him that. Isn't he a hoot, Laura?"

Lynne glanced at Carter and then shrugged, giving up once and for all on making Davis learn her name. "Whatever you say. Did you need anything?" She directed the question at Carter, but before he could speak, Davis jumped in.

"I'll need you to clear your schedule this weekend, and get a wax. You two will head out on Friday and come back Sunday after brunch." He scratched his head, calculating. "You'll probably need at least two changes of evening wear, plus something more casual. Is that a problem?"

Lynne stared at him for a minute. "You want me to go away with him overnight?"

"Over two nights," Davis corrected. "This will be a great opportunity for Carter to rub elbows with all the right people."

Carter glanced at her. "You don't have to if you don't want to."

Lynne bit her lip. _I did say I'd be available to him,_ she tried to rationalize, _but I wasn't counting on any sleepovers._

Davis interrupted before she could get her thoughts in order. "Of course she wants to; she signed the contract, didn't she?"

Carter ignored his manager, his green eyes locked on Lynne. "She doesn't have to go, Davis. It's up to her."

"I'll go," Lynne squeaked, her pulse accelerating at the thought of spending the entire weekend with Carter. "I was off this weekend anyway."

"That's settled!" Davis clapped his hands together. "Make sure you pack enough clothes for the trip, Laura."

Carter must have noticed the glare Lynne leveled at the manager, because he leaned over and reached for her elbow. "I'll pick you up Friday morning," he said, steering her toward the door to the suite before she could lose her temper with Davis. "There's an outlet mall out there we can hit, if you're worried about having the right clothes."

Lynne shook her head. "It's just a beach. I'll be fine." _Just the playground of the rich and famous._ She swallowed nervously, taking a mental inventory of her closet with a feeling approaching panic.

Carter raised an eyebrow, and then he smiled. "You'll look stunning in anything," he said, lowering his voice just enough so that Davis couldn't hear.

Heat spread through Lynne's chest, and a sappy smile slipped onto her face before she caught herself and schooled her features back to a neutral expression. She gave Carter her address, and then before he could compliment her again, she slipped out the door of the suite and headed downstairs, her heart racing.

Carly was waiting for her the minute she stepped out of the elevator. "So?"

Lynne paused, feeling guilty. "So what?"

"What's he wearing? What did he want? What was he doing? Did he have a girl with him?"

The questions came rapid-fire, and Lynne tried to keep up. "He was wearing a white button down shirt, I think," she said, her mind racing. "And he just wanted to ask me to let housekeeping know that he wouldn't be here over the weekend in case they wanted to do a more thorough cleaning," she lied quickly.

Carly's face lit up. "Where's he going?"

"I don't know," Lynne said, the lie tasting sour in her mouth.

Carly wrinkled her nose in thought. "I bet he's going to the Hamptons," she finally declared.

Lynne's palms started to sweat. "Why would you think that?"

"It's still warm enough for the beach, and besides, he's a movie star: where else would he go for the weekend?"

"I don't know," Lynne said, trying to think of something that could distract Carly from the truth. "Maybe he's going to Boston," she said, picking the first city that came to mind.

Carly shook her head, a wide smile spreading across her face. "I bet he's going to the Hamptons. Maybe I could switch my schedule and head out there, too," she said, her eyes shining. "If I just happened to bump into him, do you think he'd take me to dinner?"

A panicky feeling filled Lynne's chest, and she forced herself to take a deep breath. "Carly, you don't even know if he's going to be there."

Carly pouted. "But if I can find someone to cover my shifts, can I have the weekend off?"

Lynne shrugged, trying to stay calm. "That's between you and whoever you can con into swapping with you."

Carly grinned. "Do you want to work this weekend?"

"I can't," Lynne said automatically, and then she kicked herself for the fast reply. _Shit. What am I going to say I'm doing?_

Luckily, Carly didn't ask. "I'll call around on my lunch break," she said. "Somebody might be able to take my shifts."

Lynne spent the rest of her shift feeling sick, but by the time she left for the evening, Carly hadn't found anyone to work for her, and Lynne tried to convince herself that it would be okay, but the thought of running into Carly over the weekend while she was with Carter left her stomach tied in knots for the whole train ride back to her apartment.

When she got home, Lynne transitioned into another kind of sick terror as she stood before her closet, trying to figure out what in the world to wear for a weekend in the Hamptons with a celebrity. Despite spending most of her life in or near New York City, she'd never had an excuse to go out to the famous beaches before, and the only things Lynne knew about the Hamptons came from pop culture and Hollywood. She studied her clothes critically, wondering if the glitz and glamor that she was imagining could possibly be real.

Just when she was starting to feel desperate, a knock at the door distracted her. Hurrying to the living room, Lynne peered through the dirty peephole before opening the door in surprise.

Her neighbor, Mrs. Abbot, stood there holding a tray of cookies. "I hope I'm not disturbin' you, darlin'."

Lynne stepped back and motioned to the woman to come in. "Not at all! I was just trying to figure out what to pack for this weekend." The words tumbled out before Lynne could check herself, and she bit her lip, hoping her neighbor wouldn't ask her any questions that she couldn't answer.

The woman smiled and set the cookies on the counter. "Then I guess I baked for nothing," she said with a laugh. "I was going to ask you to pick up my mail for the next week and water the plants, but if you'll be gone, too, there's no point."

Lynne instantly felt guilty. "I'll be back by Sunday," she said, "so after that, I'd be happy to. And you didn't need to make cookies," she added with a laugh.

Mrs. Abbot grinned. "I know, but it was a fine excuse for my mango spice cookies."

Impulsively, Lynne reached for the plate and popped a cookie into her mouth. "Oh my God, these are heaven. Thank you!"

Her neighbor laughed. "My pleasure, darlin'. And thank you for checking on things for me." She paused, her sharp eyes studying Lynne's face. "Are you going away with the gentleman who isn't quite such a gentleman?"

Lynne flushed. "That's one way to look at it," she admitted, suddenly realizing that her neighbor might see Carter pick her up in the morning. "When are you leaving?" She asked, hurrying to distract Mrs. Abbot.

"First thing tomorrow," she said. "I'm heading home to Barbados for a bit to visit my cousins. And where is your man taking you?"

Lynne debated lying, but she didn't really see the point. "The Hamptons."

Mrs. Abbot whistled. "He's a fancy man, then."

Lynne laughed. "Sort of. But I'm worried I'm not fancy enough for him," she said, the words surprising her as soon as she spoke.

Mrs. Abbot eyed her critically. "He better be worrying the same thing, darlin', for you're worth whatever gentleman you decide you want."

Lynne's cheeks heated up. "Thank you," she said, uncomfortable with the praise. "But I really don't know what I'm supposed to wear for a trip like this."

Her neighbor's eyes brightened. "You stay put," she said, hurrying to the door. "I might know just the thing."

Startled, Lynne didn't protest, and Mrs. Abbot was back in a few minutes, her arms loaded with fabric. "Now, let's see what you like." She spread the fabric out on Lynne's kitchen counter, and Lynne realized her neighbor had brought an armful of dresses.

"These are beautiful!" She said, fingering the bright fabric. "But I really can't borrow your clothes," she added, reigning herself back in.

"These belonged to my daughter, but she left them behind when she went to California. Said she didn't want to look too much like the islands," Mrs. Abbot said with a derisive snort. "They're just gathering dust in the closet. If you see anything you want, it's all yours."

Lynne hadn't gotten to know Mrs. Abbot's daughter very well, but she had a vague memory that the girl had a similar body type to her, and her hands strayed back to the bright fabric without conscious thought. "They're all beautiful," she said honestly, picking up a long orange dress with pink flowers and green leaves splashed across it. The combination should have looked garish, but instead the dress reminded Lynne of a summer sunset, and she held it up to her body without thinking.

Mrs. Abbot clucked her tongue in approval. "That one would be so pretty with your dark hair. And maybe take this one, too," she said, reaching for a white dress with gold along the hem. "With the right earrings, you could wear that on a yacht!"

"I don't think we're going on a yacht," Lynne said, although it hadn't occurred to her until that moment. _Oh, God, who am I fooling? I can't schmooze with the kind of people who hang out in the Hamptons._

Her neighbor read the doubt on her face, and Mrs. Abbot reached for Lynne's chin. "Now listen, darlin'," she said, pulling Lynne's face down to hers. "You are only worth as much as you believe. It makes no never mind if I think you're fit to be a queen; you have to think it, too, or you'll never have the chance to be happy."

Unexpected tears flooded Lynne's eyes, and she nodded at her neighbor. "It's hard to think I'm worth much," she finally managed to say, struggling to get a grip on her runaway emotions. "The divorce—"

"Psh," Mrs. Abbot hissed. "Divorce is nothing but a second chance at love. But you have to take that chance," she said, her eyes serious.

Lynne tried to correct her. "I'm not in love," she said quickly. "I mean, I hardly know him." Inwardly, Lynne cringed, wondering what her neighbor would think about her now that she'd admitted she was going away with someone she barely knew, but Mrs. Abbot just smiled a slow, secret smile.

"Then let yourself have a little fun, darlin', and enjoy a bit of a vacation without worrying so much."

### CHAPTER ELEVEN

Carter made it through two more auditions, but he didn't really pay much attention to them. He was looking forward to spending the weekend with Lynne far more than he wanted to admit, and he was having a hard time caring about his work. Davis gave him a lecture about not losing focus on the way back to the hotel after the second audition, but Carter barely heard him.

After his manager had gone back to his own hotel room, Carter packed a small suitcase, excitement mounting. He'd considered taking a private car for the weekend, but at the last minute, he decided he'd treat it like a real vacation: Davis wasn't going to be along for the ride, and if he got to escape with Lynne for a few days, he was sure as hell going to make the most of the drive, even if he had to start schmoozing as soon as they got to the beach.

Even though Carter hated flying, he loved driving fast, flashy cars: it was one of the few luxuries he was happy to throw money at, although he'd sold his Aston Martin to help cover the costs of the divorce. It didn't take much effort to find a vintage rental company in Manhattan, and Friday morning, Carter couldn't stop smiling when he pulled up to the curb outside the address Lynne had given him.

He thought about honking the horn, but then he decided that he should probably act like a gentleman and go up to the door. Before he could squeeze into a spot, however, the door to the brownstone opened and Lynne stepped onto the porch. She was already dressed for the beach in a green and black patterned dress that skimmed the tops of her feet, and Carter couldn't keep himself from staring. Sure, she'd looked gorgeous in the black lace number the first night, but now she looked like some kind of beach goddess, complete with an oversized pair of white sunglasses and a rattan purse at her side. Carter stared at her, taking in every inch of her, and the urge to jump out of the car and kiss her crept into his mind. _Easy, boy_ , he cautioned himself. _Don't rush into anything stupid._

Lynne pulled the door shut behind her, and Carter noticed that she was also carrying a small roller suitcase. "Good morning," he called with a smile as he left the car idling, deciding not to worry that it was double parked, and hurried up to grab her bag.

"Morning. Where'd you get the wheels?"

Carter couldn't help grinning like a kid. "We Do Rentals. I figured we might as well do this weekend in style."

Lynne laughed. "There's nothing quite like a vintage T-Bird, that's for sure."

Carter reached for her suitcase and raised an eyebrow. "You know cars?"

"I know that one; I had one just like it in high school, except mine was yellow."

Carter didn't try to hide his delight. "I knew I picked the right one this morning. What ever happened to yours?"

Lynne followed him to the curb and opened the passenger door. "I rolled it the summer after graduation. The poor thing was pretty near totaled, and I don't think I've ever seen my folks so mad."

Carter stowed her bag in the trunk and got back behind the wheel. "I promise I won't flip this one." He pulled away from the curb, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. _She seems so different today; I wonder what's making her finally relax._ "If I were a gentleman, I'd ask if you mind if we put the top down."

Lynne pulled her hair back into a pony tail and laughed. "If you were a gentleman, you'd already have it down."

Carter chuckled. "Girl after my own heart. Let's drive!"

Much to Carter's delight, Lynne didn't ask him to slow down once during the drive, and she never blanched as he took hairpin curves at speeds that used to make Moyra cringe. Despite the weekend traffic, they made it to the beach in under two hours.

Davis had handled the arrangements for the weekend, and when Carter pulled up to an elegant beach house, he double checked the address on his phone before punching in his manager's number. _I can't believe he'd rent an entire beach house just for the two of us._

Davis answered the phone with his customary bluntness, and Carter didn't waste time on small talk. "It's a house. Is that the right place?"

Lynne looked at him curiously, and he shrugged when Davis confirmed it.

Hanging up the phone, he turned the key in the ignition. "He says the key's under the welcome mat, and the whole place is ours for the weekend."

Above her sunglasses, Lynne's eyebrows lifted. "We could fit three families in that house."

"That's Davis; he tends to subscribe to the 'go big or go home' philosophy of living."

Lynne followed him up the boardwalk path. "And what about you? I'd have thought that would be standard for a movie star."

Carter shrugged, bending over to retrieve the key. "If it were up to me, I'd probably end up with a little one room shack on the beach."

"Hard to find something like that out here," Lynne quipped.

Carter nodded. "The Hamptons wouldn't be my first choice of beach. I like being able to stick my toes in the sand and not worry about anything; some of the beaches out on the West Coast are pretty spectacular. There's a lot of quiet space in Oregon."

He opened the door, and instead of the whiff of musty air he'd been expecting, he caught a scent of fresh flowers. _Davis hired a cleaning company, too? I don't think I even want to know how much this place is costing._ Motioning to Lynne to go in before him, he allowed his eyes to skim down her curves as she walked ahead of him into the beach house, a flicker of arousal taking him off guard for a moment.

"So, is Davis the reason you're staying in the Princess Suite?" Lynne asked, her eyes taking in the buff paint and white furnishings of the vast living room.

He shook himself, focusing on her words. "Yeah. I'd be happy just about anywhere, but Davis wants me to act like a big deal, and that means the penthouse."

Lynne took her sunglasses off and looked at him over her shoulder. "You are kind of a big deal, you know."

The words should have felt like a compliment, but Carter hated hearing them from her. "You know that's not true. I'm just a divorced nut grasping at one last chance before my career tanks for good." He tried to keep his tone light, but some of his unspoken fear must have seeped into his words, because Lynne studied him for a moment before replying.

"I think you're the only one who thinks you need a comeback; from where I stand, you seem like you're doing just fine." She swept her hand around the room and smiled. "Besides, I don't know any other divorced nuts who get to spend their weekends in a place like this." Her tone was light and teasing, and Carter felt a smile slipping back onto his face.

"Well, takes one to know one." As soon as he said it, he wondered if she'd be offended, and he was mentally kicking himself for ever opening her mouth when she giggled.

"Fair enough." She said, smiling up at him. "How about we leave all that behind for the weekend?"

"What, pretend our messed up pasts never happened?" He tried to scoff, but the idea appealed to him. _What would it be like if we'd just been two people who met, not a movie star and a concierge with mismatching sets of baggage?_

"Not exactly. But can't we just let go of everything from the city, at least for today?"

"I still have to work this weekend," he reminded her. "That's kind of the whole point."

"But you don't have to be on while we're here in this house," she said, her lavender eyes locked on his. "You don't have to be anything other than yourself while we're here."

He considered. "Does that mean you'll drop the professional act and let yourself have a little fun, too?"

Lynne crossed her arms. "What do you mean?"

"Well, if you want me to just be myself, can't I ask the same thing of you?" He felt like an ass for bringing it up; already, the light, easy energy he'd felt since he picked her up that morning was starting to congeal, and he realized that she was putting her walls back up. Carter hurried to explain himself. "I like being with you," he said honestly, not breaking eye contact with her, "and I feel like I can't be with the real you when I'm in celebrity mode and you're my escort."

"Would we even be having this conversation if I weren't somebody your manager hired?" The brutal honesty of the question stung him, but Carter thought he heard pain in Lynne's words, too.

"Would we have had a chance to meet otherwise? I don't know." He took a step closer toward her, tension crackling in the air. "But I do know you're like no one I've ever met, and right now, I don't care how we met. I'm just glad I get to spend the weekend with you."

Lynne bit her lip, and Carter felt his eyes pulled to the movement. He took another deliberate step forward, coming less than arms' length away from her. Once again he felt the urge to reach out and kiss her.

She inhaled sharply, as if she'd read his thoughts, and Carter met her eyes again. He knew he shouldn't push it; Lynne had more walls around her than anyone he'd ever met beside himself, and he didn't want her to get scared and shut him out completely. But he couldn't seem to control himself, and his arms reached toward her, stopping just shy of actually touching her waist. He stood there for a moment, willing her to close the distance between them, to want him as much as he was starting to want her, and after a beat, Lynne lowered her arms. She didn't step into his embrace like he'd hoped, but she did drop her fingertips into his raised palms, giving his hands a quick squeeze before she let go and took a careful step back.

"I don't think it's fair for either of us to pretend we aren't who we are."

Before he could tell her that he wasn't trying to pretend, he was just desperate to spend time with her without any constraints or baggage between them, she turned away and headed for the stairs. She kept her gaze carefully away from him, and her tone sounded so casual, it cut.

"I bet there are a ton of bedrooms in this place. Do you want first dibs, or can I pick?"

Carter swallowed his disappointment and forced his crooked grin. "Whatever you want. You scout around, and I'll go get the bags from the car."

He was almost outside when he thought he heard her whisper, "Thank you," but when he turned around, she'd already disappeared up the stairs, and he wasn't sure if he'd imagined it or not. _Way to ruin the weekend,_ he scolded himself. _I guess I've just been imagining the chemistry between us; I never should have opened my big mouth._

### CHAPTER TWELVE

Lynne took a deep breath, trying to kill the butterflies that were rioting in her stomach. She glanced out a round window off the landing, her eyes barely seeing the breathtaking view of the seashore visible from the house. Her mind kept replaying the morning, especially that moment when Carter had looked like he was going to embrace her, and her feet threatened to melt from the memory. "Get it together," she hissed as she shook herself and opened the door to the first bedroom she came to. _Just because you're away from Regal doesn't mean either of you can get away from who you are,_ she admonished herself, trying to pretend she'd made the right decision by ignoring Carter's offer. _There's no point pretending we could ever have anything real, no matter how much I want to,_ she thought sadly.

And despite herself, she _was_ starting to want it. It was easy to pretend that she was just doing her job when she interacted with Carter back in New York, but from the moment he'd pulled up to her curb in that cherry red convertible, Lynne had plunged hard and fast for the movie star downstairs. It wasn't just his good looks or the charm that she was starting to realize was more genuine than she'd thought; it was the way he drove with one hand, the other hanging casually out the window as the miles flew by, the way he smiled when she said something that took him off guard, and the way he looked at her like she was something any man would go crazy for. Even though she'd been trying to tell herself it was all an act, she'd realized that the man beneath the glamour was somebody she wanted to know better, somebody whose presence made her feel things she hadn't felt in years. _How the hell am I this attracted to him? We haven't even kissed._

As soon as the thought flitted through her mind, Lynne shook her head firmly. "No kissing," she reminded herself. "This is business, nothing more." But it was getting harder and harder to lie to herself, especially now that they were away from the city. Shaking her head, Lynne turned toward the first door on the landing, trying to distract herself by exploring the beautiful house.

The bedroom boasted a king bed covered in fluffy white bedding, flanked by windows that looked out on the ocean. It looked romantic, like the perfect spot to curl up on a honeymoon, and then come back to celebrate a golden anniversary, too. Lynne closed the door quickly. _There's no sense in those kind of fantasies,_ she chastised herself. The next door was a bathroom, and the door beyond that was a huge linen closet, nearly the size of Lynne's kitchen back home. At the back of the hallway, Lynne noticed another set of stairs, and she headed up them, awed at the size of the house.

The stairs ended in a loft-style room without a door. Three daybeds lined the walls, and the room was surrounded by windows. _It's like a light house,_ Lynne realized, scanning the panoramic view with a smile. Unlike the other rooms she'd peaked in, this one was painted pale yellow, and the bedding was blue instead of white. _I bet this is where the kids stay,_ Lynne thought, surveying the pristine space. _This house is big enough for three families, but it looks like there's only ever one here at a time. God, I would have loved to have grown up vacationing in a place like this._

"Did you get lost?" Carter's voice broke into her thoughts and she jumped, her skin prickling as it finally sank in that she'd be sharing the romantic house with Carter for two nights.

Trying to keep her tone light, she called out, "I'm up top!"

In a few moments, she heard Carter on the second floor, opening doors as if he were looking for her. "Seriously, where'd you go?"

She laughed. "There's a third floor. I'll sleep up here."

His head emerged into the loft, and he stepped into the room, effortlessly swinging her suitcase down in front of him. "You sure? The bathroom's on the second floor."

"This will be good. Besides, I figured you'd want the king bed."

Carter paused. "We could share it, you know." He gave her a cheesy wink, and Lynne laughed in relief, even as her chest tightened at the thought of sharing a bed with him. _Thank God he's willing to joke about it._

"Not likely," she said, still smiling in an effort to keep her words playful. "You've got work to do; you should be focused on that."

His eyes shuttered, and for a moment, Lynne felt a twist of guilt that she kept pushing him away, but she tried not to dwell on the thought. "Right," he said flatly. "Work."

"What's on the schedule, anyway? Davis said there was some kind of fundraiser?"

Carter nodded, his expression impossible to read. "There's something tonight, and my guess is I'll have to spend most of the day tomorrow schmoozing at the boat club." He looked at her and raised an eyebrow. "You're not going to ditch me again, right?"

Lynne flinched. "Not in my contract," she said, forcing a deliberately cool tone to match his. "I'm guessing Davis wants you to have a date for the whole weekend, or he wouldn't have told you to bring me along in the first place."

"Right. Well, we have a few hours until the thing tonight. You're on your own until then, I guess."

Before she could think of anything else to say, Carter turned and headed back downstairs, leaving Lynne alone in the bright room. Unexpected tears pricked her eyes, but she swiped her hand across her face, refusing to cry. _It's not like there could be anything real between us,_ she reminded herself for the umpteenth time. _It's better this way._ But she couldn't fight the feeling that she was making a big mistake.

***

There was no sign of Carter once Lynne pulled herself together and changed into her bathing suit, and she tried not to be disappointed as she stepped out onto the wide deck in front of the house. Tall wooden stairs led down to the beach, and a pair of beach chairs sat under the stairs as if they were waiting for her. Grabbing one, Lynne began the awkward descent down to the shore. She inhaled deeply, enjoying the salty air, and then her feet hit the sand and some of the tension that had taken up residence in her shoulders melted away.

Dragging the chair right up to the water's edge, Lynne sank into it gratefully, combing the sand with her toes. The sun was still high in the sky, even though she knew it was after noon, and Lynne closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth. Water lapped around her feet, and she exhaled slowly, feeling herself unwinding a little bit more. _This is the life,_ she thought, stretching her legs out in front of her. Even the tension with Carter and the fact that she was starting to feel things for him that she knew she shouldn't couldn't dampen the effect of the sun, surf, and sand surrounding her, and Lynne dozed for a bit, oddly content.

A dog barked down the beach, rousing Lynne from her nap, and she shaded her eyes with her hand to see where the sound had come from. A couple was walking toward her, hand in hand, with a boisterous black lab bounding ahead of them. Lynne laughed, watching the dog dart in and out of the surf, but her heart clenched when she spotted the woman's vibrant red hair.

_Oh my God, did Carly really come out here to stalk Carter?_ Even as the thought flicked through her mind, Lynne realized the redhead couldn't be Carly. The woman was too tall, too willowy, and besides, Carly didn't have a boyfriend or a dog, so far as Lynne knew. She exhaled in relief, but just then the couple came close enough that she could see the woman's face.

_Not Carly,_ she realized with a twinge of panic. _Moyra._

### CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Carter had been to the Hamptons before, but he hadn't wanted to tell Lynne that. He and Moyra had rented a beach house that was alarmingly similar to the one Davis had booked the summer after they were married, and he remembered flashy parties, drinking all day, and some of the most spectacular sex he'd ever had. That had been the pinnacle of their relationship, he realized as he walked down the beach, his hands shoved in his pockets and his sunglasses obscuring his face. _I should have known it was too good to be true._

He'd always assumed that his marriage had fallen apart because he and Moyra burned each other out; they were both too passionate, too quick to fight, to spend large stretches of time together, and they'd never really taken the time to get to know each other beyond the public faces they both wore. It had never entered his mind that she might have been cheating on him, even though the tabloids had asked the question frequently. Now that he knew she was engaged, however, he'd started to wonder. _How would I even know?_ Carter thought darkly, ignoring the waves as he walked. _It's not like we ever really talked, even during the good days._ Carter shook his head, surprised at his next thought. _I've shown Lynne more of who I really am in a week than I ever felt like I could show Moyra in a year._

Lynne. God, he was tired of making an idiot of himself over her, but as much as he knew she wasn't interested, he couldn't quite shake her out of his thoughts. The idea of spending a weekend sleeping under the same roof as her was maddening, but he also felt a flicker of excitement: despite everything she'd said, he wasn't ready to give up, and the part of him that loved a challenge began making plans to sweep her off her feet, once and for all. _I can show her just how real we could be,_ he thought, turning around on the beach in excitement and heading back for the rental house. _Starting now._

When he got close enough to see the house, he noticed a small form sitting in a beach chair by the steps, and his pulse quickened. _No time like the present,_ he thought as he bee-lined for Lynne. _What woman doesn't want to be wooed at the beach?_

As he got closer, however, he realized that Lynne wasn't alone: there was another woman sitting next to her in a chair. His steps slowed when he recognized his ex-wife, and all his plans went straight out of his head. Forcing a smile, he sauntered up to the women, trying not to give into the gnawing sense of betrayal that he felt toward Lynne when he saw her sitting there chatting with Moyra.

"Well, aren't I lucky! Two lovely ladies on the beach today." He bent down and brushed his lips across Lynne's cheek before placing a proprietary hand on her shoulder.

Moyra's jaw clenched, and he repressed a sick surge of satisfaction, but she hid her jealousy well. "I was just getting to know your girl, Carter," she said, unfolding herself from the chair and brushing the sand off her hips. "Sounds like the two of you met in quite an interesting way."

Carter darted a glance at Lynne, and she gave him a fake smile. "I was telling her how we literally ran into each other at the hotel, sweetie. Your baggage cart left a dent in mine, I think."

Carter found himself nodding along. "It could have been disastrous," he intoned seriously, reaching for one of Lynne's hands and wrapping his fingers through hers. "Lucky for me you're so forgiving." _God, I hope she can forgive me for this little performance!_

Moyra pursed her lips. "He's always been a bit of an oaf, Lynne. Make sure you watch out or he'll actually do some damage."

Lynne stood up and slid her arm around Carter's waist. He could feel her fist clench behind his back, but he could also feel every inch of her through the tankini she was wearing, and he pulled her closer to him instinctively. "Oh, I'm not worried about that," Lynne said sweetly. "But thanks for the advice."

Moyra nodded. "I'm sure we'll see you both tonight. Everyone will be there." She paused as if she wanted to say something else, but then she gave a little wave and turned down the beach.

Lynne looked up at him, but she didn't step out of his embrace. "I hoped you wouldn't come back until she was gone. When she came up the beach—"

"It doesn't matter," Carter said, his nerves ragged. Seeing Moyra had pushed his earlier plans to woo Lynne slowly, to convince her he was worth it, right out of his mind, and he acted impulsively. Tightening his grip on Lynne, he pulled her more firmly against him, lifting a hand to cup the back of her head.

She bit her lip, but before she could argue, Carter pressed his mouth to hers.

The kiss was hot and deep, and his body took over before his mind had a chance to wonder if it was a good idea. Pulling Lynne against his chest, he exhaled raggedly against her mouth as he felt her lips part beneath his. Eagerly, he nipped her lower lip, sliding his hands down her back, his fingertips skimming the tops of her hips. He itched to cup her, to lift her up against him and let her feel the arousal he couldn't control anymore, but Lynne was already on her tip toes, practically climbing him with desperate need that matched his own. Carter tightened his grip and ground his hips against her, thrilled when she gasped against his mouth.

He wanted to pick her up, to lay her down, to make love to her right there on the beach in the middle of the afternoon, but finally, his brain took over again. _This isn't the way to win her,_ a little voice hissed in the back of his mind. _She's just going to think you're reacting to seeing Moyra._

Lynne felt the change in him, and instantly, the fire he'd felt in her was subdued. She pulled her mouth away from his and looked down, but she didn't step out of his embrace. "I," she began, and then she cleared her throat. "I really don't think—"

He held up a hand and traced her lips with one finger. "There's nothing to think about."

She looked up at him, and he resisted the impulse to drown himself in her lavender eyes. "No?"

"I want you," he said honestly. "God, I want you so much."

Instead of kissing him or smiling, she pulled away gently. "But for how long?"

"What do you mean?"

Lynne shook her head. "I don't want to be just another fling, Carter. I can't."

He stared at her, hurt. "Who's talking about a fling?"

She gave a forced laugh and turned away. "I've read the magazines, and I'm not stupid. The longest you've ever been with anyone was Moyra," she glanced back at him questioningly, "and I'm not entirely sure that kiss wasn't more about her than it was about me."

"This has nothing to do with her," he protested. "You're the one I want."

"Yes, but for how long?" She repeated sadly. "Carter, I'm not another flavor of the week."

He leaned back and studied her. "You really think that's how I am?"

She shrugged, her face blank. "All signs point to yes."

Her words stung, but instead of throwing up his hands and walking away, Carter persisted. "I can't tell you how long I'm going to want you," he said honestly. "But I can tell you that I've been thinking about you since we met. There's something here, Lynne, something real. Don't tell me you don't feel it."

To his surprise, her eyes welled up with tears. "Oh, I feel it alright. That's what worries me; what happens when whatever this is burns out for you? I'll still be feeling it long after you've moved on."

Her admission made his heart soar momentarily, but then the rest of her words sank in. "So that's it, huh? You're not even willing to give us a chance?"

Lynne took a step back, swiping at her eyes with her hand. "I don't think it would be a good idea for me."

Carter frowned. "Well, I want to see what we could have." Deliberately, he closed the distance, reaching a hand up to gently stroke her cheek. "When you're ready, I'll be waiting."

Lynne bit her lip, considering. "How can you be so sure it would work? Regal Towers isn't exactly Hollywood, and I'd have no idea how to act in your world."

"You're doing a good job of it already. And besides, my world isn't anything special. I'm just a guy, Lynne, and you're just a girl."

She smiled faintly. "I wouldn't say you're 'just' a guy. How many magazine covers have you been on?"

Carter shrugged. "Why does that even matter? Hollywood or Broadway, you're the one I want to be with."

To his surprise, she leaned forward and brushed her lips against his cheek, barely touching the corner of his mouth. "I'll think about it," she said softly, her breath warm on his skin.

Carter had to restrain himself from crushing her into his arms and claiming her mouth again, but he stuck his hands in his pockets and gave her a slow smile. "That's better than no."

She looked down as she stepped away, but Carter caught the faint blush that was creeping up her face, and he smiled wider. "I should go get ready for the thing tonight," she said, not meeting his eyes.

Carter leaned forward and laced his fingers through hers. Surprised, she looked up at him, and he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "We've still got a little time. Walk with me?"

She smiled up at him, and his heart melted. "Okay," she said slowly. "A walk sounds nice."

### CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Lynne carefully put on a pair of gold dangly earrings and studied her face in the mirror. She'd decided to leave her windswept hair down without messing with it, and the light gold powder she'd dusted over her eyelids made her feel like a mermaid, all messy hair and sparkly eyes. Her dark hair still smelled like the ocean, and Lynne pulled a strand in front of her face and inhaled deeply, remembering the afternoon. She smoothed her hands over the white linen dress she'd borrowed from Mrs. Abbot with a smile.

Everything about the afternoon had been perfect. It sounded cliché, but there was something totally romantic about strolling along a beach hand in hand with a guy who made her stomach turn somersaults. _And he kissed me_ , she thought giddily, remembering the intensity of Carter's kiss and the answering heat that had threatened to consume her body. It might have been a big mistake, but Lynne was seriously considering Carter's suggestion that they should be together, and she was actually looking forward to the evening as if it were a real date.

"Knock, knock," Carter called from the hallway, tapping on the bathroom door. "All set?"

Lynne glanced at the mirror one last time, and then she opened the door.

Carter stood there, leaning casually against the wall opposite the bathroom, his crisp white shirt unbuttoned at the collar, hands tucked into his khakis. His eyes brightened when he saw Lynne, sweeping up and down her body before coming back to rest on her face. He grinned and held out his arm to her.

"Shall we, my lady?"

She stifled a giggle and slipped her hand into the crook of his arm. "You look nice like that," she said. "Relaxed."

"I am relaxed. In fact, I feel better than I have in years." He let go of her arm on the stairs. "You look amazing. Like some kind of beach goddess."

Lynne flushed, her fingers reaching for her bracelet but only meeting skin: she'd forgotten that she'd taken it off so it wouldn't clash with the gold jewelry, and for a moment, she felt a flicker of panic. _What if something triggers me tonight?_ After a moment, she realized Carter was looking at her expectantly, and she remembered that he'd just complimented her.

"Thank you," she said, hesitating for a moment. "Could I ask you a favor tonight?"

"Anything."

She bit her lip, debating. Finally, she said, "It would really help me if you didn't drink anything tonight."

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you worried I've got a problem or something? I promise, that time at the club was an isolated instance."

Lynne flushed at his incredulous tone. "Never mind, it's nothing," she said backpedaling. _I never should have said anything._

Carter studied her face. "Not nothing, or else you wouldn't have asked." He paused. "Is there a reason?"

"Can we drop it? I'm sorry I said anything. Really, it's fine." Lynne stepped around him and headed for the front door, but Carter reached out and caught her hand before she could open it.

He gave her a gentle tug, pulling her around to face him. Green eyes pierced her soul, and Lynne blinked, suddenly feeling exposed. "I won't drink tonight," he said quietly, "and you don't have to tell me why if you don't want to."

Lynne took a deep breath. "Thank you," she finally said, steeling herself to be honest. "I'm in AA."

He didn't flinch, and his expression didn't shift to pity or loathing, two looks Lynne had gotten from her various family members shortly after she started the steps. In fact, his expression didn't change at all as he lifted her hand to his face and pressed his lips against her palm. Lynne sucked in her breath at the unexpected intimacy, and Carter smiled.

"Thank you for telling me," he said, his tone solemn. "Is there anything else you need before we head out?"

Relief washed over Lynne. _He doesn't think I'm some freak who can't control myself,_ she thought. _No one I've ever told has reacted this normally._ She shook her head. "I'm ready if you are."

He gave her his movie star wink. "I was born ready!"

***

The evening was perfect. Carter's charm seemed effortless, even as he schmoozed the night away, and Lynne enjoyed talking with the theatre crowd more than she'd expected. Carter kept her glass full of seltzer water and cranberry juice, and no one offered her a drink all night. Even the fact that Moyra and Hendricks were there couldn't dampen Lynne's mood, and as she and Carter headed out close to midnight, she felt cheerfully wound up.

"Let's walk back," she said, tugging his hand and leading him down to the beach.

Carter chuckled. "Might as well. The car will still be there in the morning." He glanced down at her. "Maybe we could go for a drive down the coast tomorrow."

"That sounds perfect." Lynne bent down and unstrapped her gold sandals. Swinging the shoes casually in one hand, she let go of Carter's hand and lifted her skirt, keeping the hem out of the sand. "Everything sounds perfect right now."

Carter tipped his head back, studying the night sky. "Moon's going to be full tomorrow or the next day," he commented, pointing at the glowing orb hovering near the ocean.

"That must be why I'm feeling so crazy," Lynne said with a laugh, twirling an impulsive circle in the sand.

"Tell me how you're feeling," Carter said, his voice smooth and deep.

"Like I could float or fly. I feel like nothing has ever been as perfect as this moment." She paused. "I haven't felt this way in seven years."

"Since your divorce?"

She shook her head. "Since I got sober. This is the way I remember alcohol used to make me feel, on the good nights."

Carter stuck his hands in his pockets. "I think you're really brave."

Lynne stopped twirling and looked at him. "How do you mean?"

"It takes a lot of guts to know when you have a problem. I think the fact that you owned it, joined AA and stuck with it, I think that's brave."

Lynne paused, considering. "I've never thought about it that way. At the time, it felt like I had no choice." She hesitated, but then she walked over to Carter. "I'll tell you what was brave," she said, standing close enough that she could smell his earthy scent. She swept her eyes up to his face and found him watching her intently.

"What?" He asked, his voice a throaty whisper.

Lynne leaned forward, skimming her lips against his for a moment before she pulled away. "That."

Carter reached for her, and this time, she didn't hesitate. She melted into his embrace, feeling a delicious thrill at the sensation of his body pressed against hers. Linking her arms around his neck, she tipped her head back, and this time, when he kissed her, she forget to worry that he might get tired of her one day. As she kissed him back, hungrily, his hands began to slide down her body, his skilled fingers tracing her flesh through the thin linen dress. She shivered, thrilling at his touch, and Carter smiled against her mouth.

"Shall we take this back to the house?"

A wicked, wonderful thought flickered through Lynne's mind, and she stepped away with a grin. "I'd rather swim," she said, intoxicated by the freedom she felt now that she'd finally allowed herself to act on the pull she felt to Carter.

His eyes glinted in the starlight. "I didn't bring a suit," he said, his lips curving up slightly.

Feeling bold, Lynne walked down to the water's edge. She turned away from Carter, and before she could second-guess herself, she shimmied out of her dress. Looking back over her shoulder, she grinned. "Neither did I."

Turning back to the water, she started to wade into the surf. _This would be sexier if we went skinny dipping_ , she thought, but she kept her bra and panties on, her type-A personality convincing her that as long as she was wearing something, she wasn't in danger of totally losing control with Carter.

But a little voice deep in her mind knew it was already too late.

### CHAPTER FIFTEEN

_She's going to make me insane,_ Carter thought, tossing and turning alone in the massive bed while Lynne slept in the room above him. It wasn't hard to imagine her, stretched out on the bed in the dark, her hair pooling around her face. Carter groaned with longing.

The evening had been better than he'd hoped; for the first time in a long while, he hadn't minded the schmoozing. Lynne made it bearable, and he'd actually had a surprising amount of fun at the fundraiser. He'd barely noticed Moyra, and when he and Lynne had headed back to the beach house for the night, his heart had felt light. Then, when Lynne had stripped off her dress and waded into the water, he'd thought he'd died and gone to heaven.

He exhaled sharply, remembering the feeling of her slippery body pressed against his. The swim had been hot; hotter than he'd even imagined, but despite the intensity, when they got back to the house, Lynne had kissed him gently, whispered "Good night," and slipped up the stairs to her room in a very definitive way. Carter rolled over onto his side, trying to stop thinking about how much he wanted to be in bed with Lynne.

It wasn't just that she was effortlessly sexy, when she let herself relax. He respected her drive, and he meant what he'd said the previous night: he really respected the fact that she was self-aware enough to own her problems and take the steps toward recovery. Carter had known too many people who struggled with addiction since he hit Hollywood, but he could count on one hand the number of those people who had gotten help. _She's something special_ , he thought, remembering the way her face lit up in the moonlight.

Carter heard a step on the stairs, and he held his breath for a moment, waiting for Lynne to open the bedroom door. Another creak followed the first, and Carter's excitement turned to disappointment when he realized she was walking past his room and down the stairs. _I should get up and see what she's doing,_ he thought, but part of him wondered if maybe she needed a little bit of space. Still, he didn't want to give her time to second-guess things, and finally Carter decided to go see what she was up to. He swung his feet out of the bed, uncomfortably aware that he was still aroused, and as he slipped on a pair of boxers and a T-shirt, he spent a few minutes trying to get his body under control.

When he could face Lynne without jumping her or looking like a lovesick fool, Carter headed down the stairs. To his surprise, however, the beach house was empty. _Did I imagine it? She's probably still asleep._ With a sigh, Carter gave up on sleep and headed to the kitchen to brew a pot of strong coffee.

The sun was barely peeking over the horizon, and Carter sat down heavily at one of the barstools in the kitchen, staring out the window while he waited for his coffee to brew. _I haven't seen this side of the morning since my last film,_ he thought wistfully. He'd always been a bit of a night owl, but given enough coffee, he actually seemed to thrive on the crazy filming schedule most directors required. It had been six months since he'd been working, though, and in that time, he'd allowed himself to get lazy and sleep in later and later. _I wonder what the rehearsal schedule will look like for a show_ , he thought idly, pouring himself a cup of coffee. _That is, if I can manage to land something._

He was on his second cup when he spotted Lynne walking briskly up the path from the beach. Carter didn't try to hide the smile that crept onto his face when he spotted her, dark hair pulled back into a thick pony tail, an exhilarated smile on her face. He met her at the door and offered her a steaming mug.

She grinned at him in surprise. "I hope I didn't wake you. I haven't made time for running lately, and I didn't want to miss the chance for a good beach run."

"I didn't realize you ran."

She took a sip of coffee and followed him into the living room. "Yeah. Started about seven years ago; it was the first thing I tried to keep my mind off of everything that was going wrong back then." She tucked her feet up underneath her on the sofa, and Carter slid onto the cushion beside her, unable to resist the urge to be close to her.

"Do you like it, or is it just a good habit?"

"Love it." She grinned. "You'll probably think I'm crazy, but I actually run most nights at midnight with a group through Central Park."

Carter shook his head. "That sounds like my idea of hell."

"Then I guess I won't invite you to train with me." Lynne paused, taking another swallow of her coffee. "Do you do any sports or anything?"

He pretended to be offended. "You can't tell that I work out?"

Lynne bit her lip. "Not what I meant. I mean, obviously, you do something to look that good—" she trailed off, a faint red tinge creeping up her neck.

Carter leaned forward until they were almost nose to nose. "Are you trying to give me a compliment?"

Her bright eyes locked on his, and she nodded slowly. "Does that surprise you?"

He closed the distance and kissed her gently. "You continue to surprise me. But yes, in answer to your question, I work with a personal trainer most days, although I've sort of let that slide since coming to New York."

"You're planning on being here awhile, though, right?"

He nodded, his brow slightly furrowed. "If I can land a role, yeah, I'm planning to make the move at least semi-permanent. Davis thinks I can spend a year or two on Broadway, and then waltz back to Hollywood with even more appeal, but now that I've been away from that whole scene, I'm starting to reconsider."

Lynne studied his face. "Reconsider movies, or acting in general?"

Carter paused. "Movies, I think. I've loved acting for as long as I can remember; I don't think I'm ready to give it up entirely just yet."

"You're lucky to have a job you love that you're so good at. I've never really thought about doing what I want."

He looked at Lynne intently. "What do you want?"

She fiddled with her coffee cup. "I'm not sure. There really hasn't been an opportunity to find out, you know? I got married right after grad school, and I didn't work at first."

"Why not?"

"John didn't want me to." Lynne's voice was soft, and she wouldn't meet Carter's gaze. "He wanted me home to cook him dinner, which I honestly liked doing, but he also didn't want me to have any kind of social life outside of him." She hesitated, glancing up at Carter. "That's when the drinking got bad. If I wasn't going to go out and do anything, at least it made me feel _something_ , you know?"

Carter nodded, clenching his fist. "Your ex sounds like a real cave man."

Lynne shrugged. "Not really. I think he just wanted some imaginary kind of marriage that doesn't exist anymore, if it ever did. I was too young to realize that wasn't what I wanted."

"Did you get the job at Regal after your divorce?"

Lynne nodded. "The bills had to get paid somehow, and I was happy to find work that paid pretty well. That first year on my own was really rough: I'd never had to take care of myself like that, and to top it off, I was trying to manage my addiction." She forced a laugh. "Luckily, I got a rent controlled apartment in Brooklyn before those went extinct, or I don't know what I would have done."

Carter reached out and took the coffee cup from her. He set it on the end table, and then he turned back to Lynne and clasped both her hands. "So what would you do if you could choose anything in the world?"

Lynne hesitated. "I studied history in school," she finally admitted. "But I don't know what you can do with that, other than teach."

"So teach. I bet you could get certified."

She shook her head. "I don't really want to teach," she said thoughtfully. "I wish I could work for the New York Historical Society or something. I think it would be awesome to be in charge of one of the landmarks in the city, giving tours and stuff like that."

Carter's eyes brightened. "That sounds like a great job. Why don't you apply for something like that?"

Lynne laughed. "I did look into it, years ago. It's not really a job: most of the work seemed to be volunteer, and volunteering isn't going to pay the rent."

Before Carter could think of a response, Lynne stood up and stretched.

"I need to shower and get the sand out of my hair. Are we still going for a drive today?"

Carter nodded, dropping their serious conversation. "I'll shower after you, if that's okay."

She smiled. "I'll make it quick." After a moment's hesitation, Lynne leaned down and kissed him gently. Carter felt his toes curl, and he forced himself to match her pace rather than grabbing her and flinging her down on the sofa like he wanted to do.

Too soon, Lynne pulled away, her cheeks slightly flushed. She headed for the stairs, glancing back at him once in a way that made him remember their moonlit swim all over again, and then she hurried out of sight, leaving Carter pulsing with anticipation as he struggled to get a grip on his thoughts. _What is she doing to me?_ His eyes followed her up the stairs as his heart started to beat harder.

### CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The weekend was over too soon for Lynne, and when Carter dropped her off at her apartment on Sunday afternoon, she almost invited him up. They'd been dancing around each other in a strange mating tango all weekend, and although Lynne wanted to grab him by the collar and make love to him just about every minute she was with him, she was holding herself back. Even though she knew she was already way too invested, she kept telling herself that if she didn't sleep with Carter, her heart wouldn't be as badly shattered when their relationship eventually came to an end.

Still, she'd nearly lost control on their last night at the beach house, and she was wound up with unfulfilled desire by the time they got back to New York.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Carter said as he set her suitcase down on the sidewalk outside her brownstone.

_Tomorrow. Work._ Lynne groaned inwardly. It was going to be so hard to go back to acting casual around Carter, but she'd have to do it, at least when she was at Regal. "Tomorrow," she echoed faintly. Leaning over, she gave him a slow, sweet kiss that left her wanting more when she pulled away. "Tomorrow we're both back to our professional selves, right?"

Carter chuckled. "I won't jump you in the elevator at the hotel, if that's what you're worried about." He put his face against hers and whispered, "not that I won't want to every second."

Need pulsed in her stomach, but Lynne forced herself to step away. "It would be a lot easier if you got a different hotel," she offered honestly. "I'm worried about what my boss would say."

"Hopefully, if some of these auditions go well, I'll be looking for something more permanent than a hotel, anyway." Was she imagining it, or were Carter's eyes filled with meaning when he said the word "permanent"? Lynne shook her head. _Stop reading so much into this_ , she cautioned herself. She waved as she went inside, and a tiny part of her was thrilled that Carter was still leaning against the T-Bird, looking in her direction, even after the door swung shut behind her.

Lynne leaned against the banister in the entryway and exhaled slowly. The weekend had been the most perfect thing she'd ever experienced, but now that she was back in her real life, it was hard to hold onto the freedom she'd felt in the Hamptons. "I don't know why I let anything get started," she grumbled to herself as she headed for the top floor. "It's just going to fall apart now that we're back to reality." Although she knew she should listen to her voice of reason, Lynne couldn't shake the desperate wish that Carter could somehow be a part of her reality, not just her fantasies.

***

The next morning at work, Lynne felt sluggish and fuzzy. Carly must have sensed that she didn't want to talk, because the usually chatty girl left Lynne alone, escaping on an errand for a guest as soon as she had the chance. Lynne couldn't focus on anything, and when Carter called down from the Princess Suite to "speak with the shift manager", she simultaneously felt like a giddy schoolgirl and a fugitive.

Carter was waiting at the door to the suite when Lynne knocked, and as soon as he shut the door behind her, he pulled her into an embrace. Lynne melted against him, some of the tension of the morning leaving her body as soon as she felt Carter's strong arms around her.

"God, I've missed you and it hasn't even been a day," he murmured into her hair.

Lynne smiled. "I've missed you, too," she answered honestly. "But I really shouldn't see you here, especially not while I'm at work."

"I know," he said. "But I have a surprise. Are you free tonight?"

Lynne nodded hesitantly. "For a real date, or a fake date?"

Carter grinned. "Haven't you realized by now that every time I'm with you, it's real?"

Her throat constricted and she nearly melted. After a moment, she found her voice. "Do I need to dress up again?"

He shook his head. "No, this will be a lot more casual." He glanced out the window, and Lynne followed his gaze, startled to see Davis standing on the balcony, talking on his phone with his back to them. Instinctively, Lynne stepped away from Carter, her palms suddenly slick. Despite her nerves, Carter reached for her hand. "I'll meet you at the Lexington Avenue station tonight at seven."

"The one on 59th?"

Carter nodded. "Okay?"

Lynne wanted to ask him what he was planning, but before she could speak, Davis came back inside, glaring at his phone. "You've got another audition in fifteen minutes," he said apologetically. "I tried to get them to put it off to tomorrow to give you a chance to prepare, but they were insistent. We better move." Davis blinked at her for a moment, as if he was surprised that she there. "What did you need, sweetheart?"

"I was asking her who was on the cleaning crew this weekend. This place is cleaner than I imagined, and I wanted to know who to tip."

Davis shrugged. "Your money, not mine." He paused, and Lynne realized he was staring at her. "That should be all, sweetheart. We'll let you know the next time we'll need you for a date, okay?"

She glanced at Carter, and he gave her a small, secret smile. She nodded at Davis, trying to keep her demeanor professional. "You know where to reach me."

Davis just nodded, practically shoving her out the door to the suite. She stood there for a moment before she got her bearings and headed back to the elevator, struggling to ignore the butterflies who were rioting in her stomach.

Even though Carly hadn't been around when Lynne took the call from Carter, the girl pounced on her as soon as she got to the lobby. "Well?" She asked, sotto voice.

"Hmm?"

"Lynne!" Carly whined. "You went up to the Princess Suite! What did he want? Was he eating? God, I bet he has chocolate cake for breakfast."

Lynne stared at her. "Where did that idea even come from?"

Carly tossed her flaming hair. "That's what I'd do if I were rich and famous," she said. "But seriously, what did he want?"

"Um, he wanted to thank the cleaning crew for the extra work this weekend," Lynne said, using the same excuse Carter had.

Carly's face fell. "That's...boring."

"What were you expecting, Carly?"

The girl paused. "I don't know. If this were a movie," she said dreamily, "I bet he'd fall in love with one of us."

Lynne's skin tingled at the memory of Carter's embrace. "But it's not a movie," she said firmly, not sure if she was trying to convince Carly or herself.

Carly pouted. "A girl can dream, can't she?"

### CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The audition was a disaster. Carter didn't know why Davis had even bothered making him go; it was a revival of _The Glass Menagerie_ , for God's sake, and the only part that was even remotely close to Carter's age was the crazy mother. Still, Carter went and read for the son, trying to keep a straight face as he played opposite a woman who was barely out of college. _If nothing else, maybe I can impress the director with my professionalism,_ Carter thought, determined to give it an effort even though he knew there was no earthly way anyone would consider him for that iconic role.

It was pretty clear that Davis was scrounging the bottom of the barrel with his audition offerings; despite Carter's instructions, he'd tripped over his feet at an audition for a new musical his first week in New York, and he'd read for roles in comedies, tragedies, and everything in between. _The only thing I haven't tried for is Shakespeare,_ Carter thought wryly as he headed to the subway station to meet Lynne. _Although I doubt anyone's keen to cast me as Hamlet again._ Early in his career, he'd played the brooding star in a made-for-T.V. adaptation of the long play, and all he remembered about that role was how hard it had been to memorize his lines. He just couldn't wrap his mouth around the wordy dialogue. Carter shook his head. _Probably a good thing there haven't been any Shakespearean auditions yet,_ he thought sullenly.

Pulling his thoughts away from the auditions, Carter headed down to the subway. This would be his first time seeing Lynne privately since the weekend, and he was a little worried that all her old walls would be back in place now that they were back in the city. _I just have to take it nice and easy with her_ , he reminded himself. _I need to prove that I'm not going anywhere._

He glanced at the clock over the platform and frowned. Lynne was ten minutes late, and she'd struck him as the kind of person who was always on time. _Maybe she changed her mind,_ he thought, his throat tightening. "Stop mopping," he muttered to himself as he scanned the platform again. "She can't just walk away from what we have," he said, desperate to convince himself.

He'd started to worry that something had happened to her by the time he spotted Lynne on the stairs. Relief washed over him, and he hurried over to her with a grin. "I almost thought you weren't coming," he said, wondering if she'd push him away if he tried to hug her.

"Things were hectic wrapping up the shift. Sorry I'm late." She stood on her toes and brushed her lips against his cheek, and Carter felt his earlier tension melt away as he wrapped his arms around her. He smiled down into her face, surprised at how quickly he relaxed with her.

She looked up at him shyly, biting her lip, and Carter couldn't help himself. He lowered his face to hers, giving her a slow kiss. When he broke away, they were both smiling, and Lynne exhaled loudly.

"I almost didn't come," she finally admitted. "I wasn't sure you'd still want this."

Carter caressed the side of her face with one hand, looking deep into her eyes. "Lynne, I will want you whether we're in Manhattan or the Hamptons, or some cheap little Midwestern town. Which, after the audition today, might be my best option."

Lynne's eyebrows pulled together. "It didn't go well?"

"Not the right part for me; I'm way too old for the role I read for." He stepped back and reached for her hand. Lynne wrapped her fingers around his with a smile.

"The right part will come along," she said, sounding more confident than he felt. "Now, what did you want to do, now that you've escaped from Davis?"

Carter laughed, the awful audition forgotten. "I told you, it's a surprise."

"And this surprise requires the subway? I thought movie stars always used private cars." She teased, her eyes bright.

He gave her a tug and led her to the edge of the platform and into a half-full subway car. "Sometimes, you have to ride with the little people." He said it with a pompous accent, hoping that Lynne would laugh, that she wouldn't think he was being serious.

She grinned, and he felt a million pounds lighter. "Is that what you're doing with me? Slumming?" Her tone was flippant as they settled into a pair of seats under the window, but the words cut.

"Don't," he said softly, leaning over her. "Don't talk about yourself that way." He locked eyes with her for a moment, and his heart accelerated. _Does she have any idea how beautiful she is?_

She cleared her throat, and he realized he'd been staring at her. He brushed his lips against her cheek and sat back, pointing to the dark walls of the subway as they raced past. "Have you ever been on this train?"

If she thought it was an odd question, she didn't let on. "Probably. The station is the same one I use to get to and from work, but I take the R train."

Carter relaxed slightly. "Good. It suddenly occurred to me to be worried that you'd figure out where we're going."

Lynne studied the route map on the wall of the subway car. "The Brooklyn Bridge?"

He shook his head. "You'll just have to wait."

She smiled at him before shaking her head. "I don't know how you had time to come up with a surprise, between the weekend and your auditions."

"It's easy to find the time for you. Besides," he confessed, "I actually got this idea from an audition."

Lynne raised an eyebrow. "You're not going to make me sing and dance, are you?"

He chuckled, idly caressing her hand. "Sounds like hell for both of us."

"Have you auditioned for any roles that you actually want?"

Carter paused, considering. "Not really. I want to be working again, and I want that work to continue to be acting, but if I'm being honest, none of the shows I've read for so far are really me."

Lynne squeezed his hand gently. "What will do you if you don't find a show you want?"

"You mean, if I'm not good enough?"

She shook her head. "That's not what I said. I think you're great, and if you really want to be a Broadway star, you will. You've never really had a bad role."

Carter stared at her, a smile creeping onto his face. "I thought you weren't a big movie person."

She flushed. "I may have stretched the truth there."

He leaned forward, grinning. "So how many of my films have you seen?"

She bit her lip, and then she admitted, "All of them...and I've seen most of them twice."

Carter threw his head back and laughed. "So that cool, unimpressed woman I met that first day was just an act?"

"I didn't want to feed your ego," she tried to defend herself, but she was starting to smile. "I thought movie stars are all egomaniacs, and I figured you didn't need any more stroking"

Carter raised an eyebrow and brought his mouth alongside her ear. "I would never say no if you wanted to stroke me," he murmured, feeling a little thrill when her breath caught at his suggestion. Slowly, he pulled back and studied her face, wondering what was going on in her mind.

Their eyes locked and held, and Carter felt desire course through him the longer he stared into Lynne's lavender eyes. _Does she realize how much I want her?_ He wondered again. Tipping his face toward her, he leaned forward slightly, letting his breath intermingle with hers. His heart started to race, wondering if she'd let him kiss her again, but before his lips could find hers, the train jerked and he tipped forward, smacking his forehead against Lynne's face. She pulled back in surprise, rubbing her head, but to Carter's delight, she chuckled.

"Is that really how you seduce women, Mr. Edwards?"

He grinned. "I have to keep you on your toes, don't I?"

"A week ago, you couldn't even remember my name. I'd say you're keeping me on my toes, all right."

He held up his hands defensively. "I hadn't really met you, remember. You'd just checked me in and given me the room key. Besides," he added impulsively, "I'm never at my best after a flight."

"You don't like flying?" She sounded surprised, and he almost wished he hadn't told her. _I don't want to keep anything from her,_ he realized, _even this._ He swallowed his self-consciousness.

"Never have."

"I've always liked it, but I guess that's because I haven't had to fly as much as you."

He really didn't want to talk about flying, but he was curious. "How often do you fly?"

"Only a couple of times, really. I flew to Arizona when my grandmother passed away years ago, and John and I flew down to Cancun for our honeymoon."

"Kind of an odd place for a honeymoon; weren't there a lot of college kids partying?"

She shrugged. "It was a vacation. And the water was beautiful."

"Speaking of beautiful," Carter said, tapping the window behind them, "look."

The train had slowed down, and it was as if they'd stepped back in time. Mosaic tiles covered the walls, and high above the vaulted ceiling, panes of clear glass arched over the subway station in a delicate skylight completely at odds with the sleek, utilitarian train car.

Lynne gasped. "What is this place?"

Carter grinned, feeling totally satisfied with her response. "It's a ghost station. I heard about it at one of my auditions this week, and I thought you'd want to see it."

She stared out the window, rapt, as the train began to turn around, giving the few people who had stayed on the car a three hundred and sixty degree tour of the cavernous space.

"This is beautiful," she said, her eyes skimming the walls to the skylight. "I didn't even know this was here."

Carter silently congratulated himself for surprising her. "I thought a history nerd like you would know all of the city's secret spots."

She shook her head, reading the tile above the stairs that led down to the old platform. "City Hall. I didn't even know there used to be a City Hall station."

"That was what the guy at the audition said. I overheard him chatting with a couple of the girls who were there, and when he described it, I knew I had to show you."

Lynne gave him a brilliant smile. "Thank you. This is so, so cool."

His grin stretched wider. "That's not all," he told her, pulling her to her feet with a mounting sense of anticipation as the train left the beautiful station behind. "This is our stop."

### CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Lynne relished the feeling of Carter's strong hand wrapped around her fingers, and she followed him from the train eagerly. _I can't believe that he still seems like he's interested in me,_ she thought in wonder as she stood beside him in the mostly deserted subway station one stop up from the fairy tale that was the abandoned City Hall station. _I don't think I could have imagined something like this in my wildest dreams._ She was happier than she cared to admit to be holding his hand, but when she headed for the stairs that led up from the subway, he tugged her back.

Confused, Lynne looked up at him. "I thought you said this was our stop?"

He nodded, his crooked smile stretching wide. "It is. But we aren't going up."

Lynne gestured around the platform. "There's nothing down here but rats."

"I promised you a surprise, didn't I?" Carter glanced around, draping his arm across her shoulders and leaning closer. "Look casual. We don't want anyone to know what we're up to."

" _I_ don't even know what we're up to."

The last of the travelers around them climbed the stairs, and Carter grinned at her. "Ready?"

"For what?" Lynne looked around at the deserted station and shivered. "It's kind of creepy down here."

"I'll protect you." He pulled out his phone and pressed the power button before grabbing Lynne's hand again with his other hand. "This way!"

He pulled her toward the subway tunnel, and Lynne shook her head. "Are you crazy? The next train will be along in a few minutes."

Carter gave her a rakish wink. "Then we just have to hurry." When he saw that she wasn't appeased, he stepped closer to her. "I promise it's safe, and I promise it'll be worth it. Trust me, okay?"

Lynne paused. _Do I trust him?_ She was surprised at how quickly the "yes" bubbled up from her heart. _But I barely know him,_ she tried to argue with herself. Still, she couldn't' deny it: she realized that she was willing to go just about anywhere with Carter, and that thought set her heart racing. _It can't be love this fast, can it?_ Trying to sort through her tangled emotions, she let him tug her down the subway tunnel, walking on the narrow maintenance platform that hugged the wall once they were away from the station. Even with the glow from Carter's phone, the tunnel was dark and creepy, like something out of a horror movie, and Lynne walked a little faster, hanging onto Carter's hand the whole time.

Yellow emergency lights pierced the darkness as they walked, but they didn't make Lynne feel any better. "We could get in a lot of trouble for this," she said, hating the way her voice sounded shaky in the cavernous space.

"Relax," Carter told her. "We're good. And besides, we're almost there."

Before Lynne had a chance to ask where "there" was, they rounded a bend and suddenly, the tunnel was brighter than before. An idea occurred to her, and she smiled. "Are we going back to that station?" She asked, growing excited.

Carter just chuckled. "Sort of, but that's not our stop."

Totally confused, Lynne let him pull her along. Even though she was dying to stop at the City Hall station and study the beautiful architecture, she hurried through it, matching Carter's fast pace. She barely had a chance to take in any more details than she'd already seen from the train, and then they were back in the tunnel, leaving the wide glass skylights behind.

Carter slowed his pace. "This is what we're down here for," he said, gesturing ahead into the darkness.

Lynne blinked, and then she noticed something on the wall under one of the emergency lights. Taking a closer look, she turned to Carter. "Graffiti?"

He grinned. "It's a street art gallery. Totally illegal, and sort of secret."

"How did you find out about it?"

"I told you; I heard at an audition. One of the younger actors knows one of the artists down here, and I listened while he bragged about how nobody knows this is here." He studied her face. "Do you like it?"

Lynne's eyes skimmed the wall of the tunnel beside her. "It's definitely different," she said slowly.

Carter's face fell. "I thought it would be right up your alley; little known New York and all that."

"No, it is," Lynne hurried to assure him. "It just isn't what I was expecting." _Nothing about you is what I was expecting._

Carter dropped her hand and headed deeper into the tunnel. "It's crazy to think about putting in this kind of effort on something that barely anybody will see."

"Maybe they just do it for the thrill," Lynne said, her eyes tracing the swirls of paint. "Get arrested if you get caught down here and all that."

Carter pointed to a particularly intricate design. "That's more than just thumbing a nose at authority," he said softly. "That's art."

"Not everyone needs an audience." The minute the words left her mouth, she realized he might think she was talking about him. "I don't mean—"

"No, you're right," Carter said, looking down at her. "Art can be art just for art's sake," he said slowly. "But that doesn't pay the bills."

"Is that all acting is to you? A way to pay the bills?"

Carter paused, and Lynne could tell he was seriously considering the question. "No," he said finally, "although lately that's what it felt like."

"There's nothing wrong with that," Lynne said. "I mean, it's a career, the same as any other."

"But it isn't just a career," he said slowly. "I'd like to think I have a little bit of talent, that I'm not just punching a clock. And besides," he added, his eyes connecting with hers, "don't we all end up doing things we're talented in?"

Lynne snorted. "I wouldn't say I have a talent for hotel management. That's not exactly an art form, you know."

He shook his head. "I'd disagree. There's an art to interacting with people, an art to making them like you," he took a step toward her, studying her face. "And I'd say that's something you're very good at."

"You make it sound like I'm trying to be fake or something," Lynne said, suddenly aware of how close he was standing to her. Her pulse sped up and she leaned toward him slightly, eager for his touch.

"No," Carter said, leaning closer. "You aren't fake." He lifted his hand and reached for a strand of her dark hair, pushing it gently behind her ear. "You aren't fake at all."

Her breath caught, and Lynne licked her lips nervously, mesmerized by Carter's intense expression. _I've definitely fallen,_ she thought as she brought her lips closer to his. _It's too late to keep my distance._

This time, when their lips met, Lynne didn't hold anything back. She kissed Carter with all the longing she had, tasting his mouth while he returned her kisses with an intensity that thrilled her. The last rational corner of her mind shut down when Carter slid his hands underneath her shirt, and Lynne forgot about the empty subway tunnel and the next train. Carter caressed her skin, sending shivers through Lynne's body, and she clung to him like she was drowning. She thought he murmured her name against her mouth, and, feeling bold, Lynne pulled away, trailing kisses down his collarbone while her fingers skimmed over Carter's torso. Before she could reach his belt, however, a loud voice echoed down the tunnel, and a bright light hit Lynne in the eyes, blinding her for a moment.

"Who's down here?"

Lynne tensed to run, but Carter grabbed her hand. "I've got this," he promised, his voice little more than a whisper. Then, louder, he said, "Good evening, officer!"

"What are you doing?" She hissed. "Shouldn't we try to hide or something?"

It was too dark to tell for sure, but Lynne could have sworn she saw him roll his eyes. _There's not really anywhere to hide,_ she realized, feeling stupid. Carter took a few steps down the tunnel, in the direction of the police officer who'd interrupted them.

"Hands where I can see them!" The man barked, reaching for something at his waist.

Lynne let out a frightened gasp and let go of Carter's hand. Lifting her palms in the air, she started to babble. "We're sorry, officer, but we must have gotten off at the wrong stop—"

Carter stepped in front of her, keeping his hands in his pocket. "How are you tonight, officer?"

The man glared at him. "Look, wise guy, I don't know what you think you're doing down here, but hands where I can see them."

Casually, Carter lifted his hands. "Is that better?"

"Much. Hurry up and get out of there before the next train comes through."

Carter headed toward him with Lynne following close behind. She bit her lower lip, trying to figure out if she'd ever heard if people just got a fine for walking in the subway, or if she was about to get arrested. _At least we hadn't managed to get our clothes off; than it would indecent exposure, too!_ A hysterical giggle threatened to spill out of her mouth, but Lynne clamped her teeth shut and focused on putting one foot in front of the other. As they reached the old City Hall station, Carter glanced over his shoulder and winked at her. _Relax_ , he mouthed before turning back to the officer.

A train rushed through the station, filling the tunnel with a gust of heat as it thundered by, and Lynne's heart started to pound when she realized how close they'd come to still being in the tunnel when the train came. Her knees shook just thinking about it, and she gulped a breath of air. _God, I haven't been thinking straight! We could have been killed._

Carter didn't seem phased, and Lynne noticed he was wearing the friendly half-smile she'd begun to recognize as his celebrity look, and she felt a flicker of trepidation. _Does he really think he can sweet talk his way out of this?_

The man reached for a walkie talkie at his belt. "Two trespassers in the City Hall tunnel. I'll meet you at the entrance."

Carter smiled at the officer. "Now, officer, I'm sure there's no need to make a fuss." He leaned forward conspiratorially and ran his hand through his hair. "We'd appreciate it if you would point us to the best route to get aboveground."

The officer snorted. "I'll do you one better, buddy. I'll escort you both all the way to the precinct."

Carter glanced over his shoulder at Lynne, a confused expression on his face. "Didn't Davis say he'd cleared this with the NYPD?"

Lynne had no idea what he was talking about, but she swallowed nervously and tried to play along. "I think so."

The movie star faced the officer again. "I'm so sorry for the mix-up, sir. I don't know if you've recognized me or not, but I'm Carter Edwards." He waited a beat, but the expression on the policeman's face didn't waver. Carter tried again. "We're doing a little scouting for a period film I'll be staring in. Old New York and all that." He paused, looking puzzled. "I'm sure my manager cleared it with your supervisors."

"I don't care who you are, or what you think you're doing down here, but you're under arrest."

Lynne shrank back into the shadows, but the man's eyes swiveled to her. "You, too, sweetheart."

Carter held his hands out in a placating gesture. "I assure you, that won't be necessary. If you don't mind, I'll just place a call through to my manager, and he can explain everything to you."

"You can make your one phone call when we're back to the station. Now, do I need to cuff you, or are you both ready to come with me?"

Lynne stepped forward, trying to ignore Carter's expression. "We'll come." She glanced at him and raised an eyebrow. "There's still time to straighten everything out, right Mr. Edwards?"

His eyes flickered for a moment when she used his last name, and Lynne hoped he realized she was just trying to add to his story. If he was really down there for some movie, it made more sense that she was an employee of some kind rather than...whatever she was. His girlfriend? _There hasn't really been time to talk about all that,_ she realized as she stared intently at Carter. _But I bet it'll be easier to talk our way out of this if we pretend we aren't involved_. He seemed to come to the same conclusion, because he smiled easily at her. "Right, Lynne. Did you get enough of a sense of it for the set design, though?"

_Set design? Good lord, I don't know anything about that._ "I think so," Lynne bluffed, looking deliberately around the vaulted ceiling of the abandoned station. "It'll be hard to recreate this, though," she added thoughtfully. "Maybe we should see about, um, filming on location."

He nodded like he was considering it. "As long as we get this mix up straightened out first."

The police officer looked annoyed. "Are you two finished?"

Carter nodded. "I think we have everything we need...officer?"

The man didn't give his name, just grunted and gestured toward a service door Lynne hadn't seen before. "Then let's move."

Her heart thumped erratically as they followed the policeman, but when Carter reached forward and gave her shoulder a quick squeeze, she almost convinced herself that everything would be alright.

### CHAPTER NINETEEN

Carter was more keyed up than he cared to admit, but he was doing his best to maintain his casual façade. He'd expected the cop to let them off the hook when he used the "scouting for a movie" line, and he was surprised that they were still being arrested. When the officer led them above ground to a waiting squad car, Carter felt Lynne tense beside him, and he wanted more than anything to reach over and grab her hand, to offer some kind of reassurance, but he didn't think it would help their case if he snuggled up with his so-called set designer in the back of the car. _At least she played along_ , he thought, remembering how puzzled he'd been when she called him "Mr. Edwards" down in the subway. For a minute, he'd thought he'd pissed her off, and he wouldn't blame her if that was the case: getting arrested wasn't the way he'd envisioned the evening would end.

Now that he thought of it, he hadn't really been sure how the evening would end, anyway. Sure, he'd wanted to bring her back to his room, or, better yet, to go back to her apartment with her, but until the kiss in the tunnel, he hadn't wanted to press his luck and scare her off. _Even if nothing had happened after, this was still the best date I've had since I can't remember when._ It had been a long time since he'd had a chance to spend real time with someone without the paparazzi trailing him, and for a moment, he was thankful that his career in Hollywood had dried up enough to send him to New York. Until he landed a show on Broadway, he was practically anonymous again, a sensation he hadn't had for twenty years. _Although I'm sure all the reporters I've been watching out for will crawl out of the woodwork the minute there's a mug shot,_ he thought sourly as the car pulled up to a police station.

Risking a glance at Lynne, Carter felt a knot of anxiety in his chest when he caught her frightened expression. This so wasn't what he'd planned when he'd decided to show her the abandoned subway stop. Shaking his head, he got out of the car, assuming the charming, unruffled demeanor he'd tried to use down in the tunnel. He could tell Lynne was trying to match his calm expression, but a muscle near her eye kept jumping, and Carter shook his head. _She's so real,_ he thought, fighting back the urge to stroke her cheek. _It's been a long time since I've met anyone like her._

The officer who'd picked them up ushered them into a small, smoky waiting room with blue plastic chairs. The door clicked ominously behind them, and Carter realized it had an automatic locking mechanism. He swallowed, turning a smile toward the officer. "Mind if I call my agent now so we can get everything straightened out?"

"Make it fast. I'll start processing your friend here first."

Lynne looked terrified as the man led her behind another door, and she shot a glance back at Carter just before the door swung shut behind her. His heart clenched, and he pulled out his cell phone as fast as he could and hit the speed dial for Davis.

His manager picked up on the first ring. "Where the hell are you? I'm sitting here at the restaurant waiting."

Carter exhaled. "I went out with Lynne. Look, Davis—"

"Carter," his manager hissed, "I've been trying to entertain Schultz and Jones for the past hour."

Carter paused. Schultz and Jones were a legendary director/producer team, and Davis had talked about trying to schedule a meeting with them. "I thought I was just having dinner with you to discuss our plans?" He said slowly.

"Plans changed; they were free, so of course I asked them to join us. But we're through the first round of drinks, and I can't stall much longer. You need to get down here. Now."

"Davis, I'm kind of tied up at the moment."

His manager snorted. "With that girl? Why are you wasting your time?"

Carter clenched his fist. "What are you talking about?"

"She's your escort, Carter. Not someone you sneak around with behind my back."

"She's not an escort," he said, surprised at how upset he felt. "She's...she's a break," he finally said, chickening out from trying to explain the complicated swirl of emotions he felt when he was with Lynne.

"Break's over. Time for you to get back to work."

"Davis, we got arrested."

There was silence on the line. Carter glanced up at the door where the cop had disappeared with Lynne and cleared his throat. "We were checking out that location I told you about for my new film," he said, raising his voice slightly.

He could practically hear Davis grinding his teeth. "Location?"

"The old subway station. You said you cleared it with the NYPD before we went down there."

Davis exhaled sharply. "You're asking me to call in that favor NOW? Over something that doesn't matter? Why can't you just pay bail?"

Carter dropped his voice. "Lynne doesn't need a record because of me. Fix this. Now."

"And what am I supposed to tell Schultz and Jones?"

Carter frowned. "Tell them I double booked myself, and ask if they'd like to come back to the penthouse later for drinks. And pick up the tab, too."

"What do I look like, an idiot? Of course I'll pick up the tab." He paused, and Carter held his breath. Finally, Davis said, "Which precinct are you at?"

Carter glanced up at the bare walls around him, looking for some kind of identification. "No idea. The one closest to City Hall, I guess."

"I'll make the call," Davis said gruffly before disconnecting. Carter glared at the phone for a minute, surprised that he'd had to argue with his manager, but then he put the phone back in his pocket and picked up a magazine. He flipped through the tattered pages, doing his best to look casual for the security camera he'd spotted in the corner, but his eyes didn't see anything. He wasn't sure how long it would take Davis to work his magic, but when he finally heard the sound of a phone ringing deeper inside the precinct, Lynne still hadn't reemerged.

A few minutes later, the officer came back into the waiting room alone. "You can go," he said gruffly, pushing the button to release the door behind Carter.

Carter paused. "Where's my set designer?"

The man glared at him. "Look, buddy, I don't know what kind of strings you pulled, but my supervisor only mentioned you. She stays."

"That's not fair; she was only down there because of me."

The officer raised his eyebrow. "You want to pay her bail? It's two thousand five hundred dollars."

Carter narrowed his eyes. "No, I don't want to pay her bail. I want her sent home, free and clear. You've heard from my manager; we were down there for a film I'm shooting."

"All I was told was that Mr. big man Carter Edwards was fine, but nobody said anything about your girl. So you can either pay her bail, or leave her here." He shrugged. "It's up to you."

Carter pulled out his wallet. "I assume you don't take credit card," he said, his tone icy.

The cop laughed. "Not hardly. Not even from you, Mr. Hollywood."

Carter glared at him. "Where's the nearest ATM?"

"There are two out on the street, but I doubt your bank will let you withdraw that much at once."

Carter smirked. "The perks of being a multi-million dollar client."

Without another word, he stalked out of the building and found the ATMs the officer had mentioned. He had to type in his pin three times before it worked; he was so mad his hands were shaking, but, just as he'd hoped, he was able to withdraw the full amount in one go. Pocketing the cash, he hurried back inside the precinct and found the officer waiting for him.

"Here," he said, thrusting the money at the man. "Now, where's Lynne?"

The officer grunted and went behind the other door again. For a few moments, nothing happened, and Carter started trying to figure out how much trouble he'd get in for going back there after her himself. Just when he was about to risk it, the door opened and Lynne came out. Her skin looked sallow, and her eyes were drawn. She didn't look at him, and Carter waited to say anything until they were back on the street in the humid night air.

"I'm sorry," he offered, pausing on the sidewalk and studying her face. "I had no idea that would happen."

She shrugged, but she still didn't look at him. "At least we're out of there now."

"Did they..." he trailed off, unsure. "Did they put you in a cell or anything?"

"No. They hadn't gotten to that part yet." She finally looked at him. "Davis was able to take care of everything?"

The trust in her face nearly cracked his heart in two. "Mostly," he said, deciding to be honest. "I paid your bail."

It took a minute for her to process what he'd said, but he saw the realization click in her eyes. "You mean I was still arrested? They won't delete the file or anything?"

Carter shook his head. "I feel terrible. I have no idea why they let me go, but the cop insisted that you'd already been booked, and that bail was the only way to get you out of there tonight."

She swallowed. "So I guess that means I've got a record?"

"I don't really know how all this works. I guess so."

Her face darkened. "But they didn't charge you, ultimately."

"Lynne—"

"Did you tell Davis we're together?" She demanded.

Carter wrinkled his forehead, confused. "Of course. I called and told him I'd taken you down there—"

She shook her head and took a step closer. "No," she said, "I meant did you tell him about—" she gestured to the space between them. "Us."

Carter hesitated. "I didn't think you wanted anyone to know," he finally said, cringing inwardly at the lie.

Lynne shook her head. "You're unbelievable." Tears welled up in her eyes, and Carter reached for her, but she took a step back.

"Lynne, I'm sorry. Let me fix this."

"Don't worry about me, I'm fine," she said, her voice sounding chirpy. "Just tell me how much I owe you."

"Nothing. This whole mess was my fault in the first place."

"What do I owe you?" Her tone was steely, and Carter realized she was ready to keep arguing all night.

He sighed. "Bail was twenty-five hundred. But you don't owe me anything," he added quickly when he saw the flicker of panic in her eyes at the sum. "Seriously. I'll call my lawyer in the morning, and we'll get everything worked out. You won't have a record to worry about." He wasn't sure if that was something a lawyer could do, but he tried to sound sure of himself. He hated the hard look that had come across her face when she realized that he'd walked out of the precinct with little more than the inconvenience, while she'd been fingerprinted and charged and God knows what else. He reached for her again, but she stepped away.

"I'm tired," she said abruptly. "I think I better head home."

"I can give you a ride. Davis should be sending a car."

Her jaw clenched. "No, thanks. I can manage."

Carter tried again, fighting the desperate fear that he was about to lose whatever progress he'd made in the Hamptons. "Lynne, don't walk away mad."

She gave him a forced smile. "Why would you think I'm mad, Mr. Edwards?"

He grimaced. "Don't do that."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Edwards. Did you think we were becoming...friends, or something stupid like that?" Her tone was acidic, the words a punch to the gut.

"You're mad, and I get that, but please don't go away like this."

Lynne shook her head. "Since tonight wasn't an _official_ date, I don't think it should matter to you what I do." Turning on her heel, she began to walk away.

Carter reached for her, pulling her back around to face him. "Look, I've said I was sorry. What more do you want me to do?"

"You've done more than enough, considering I wouldn't have been down in the tunnels if it weren't for your stupid idea."

He ran a hand through his hair. "I thought you'd want to see it."

"It was illegal. And dangerous. If you'd been thinking at all, you would have left it when we rode through on the train, instead of dragging me into the tunnel to look at the stupid graffiti."

"I was trying to do something nice for you!"

"Don't bother!" She spat the words, her shoulders tense. "I'm just a business associate, _Mr. Edwards._ There's absolutely no reason for you to do anything for me."

The words were like a slap in the face, and Carter stared at Lynne for a moment, not knowing what to say. She took advantage of his silence and walked away. Just as he was making up his mind to go after her, a car with tinted windows pulled up at the curb, and Davis rolled down the back window.

"Get in. You've got work to do: Schultz and Jones were willing to come back to the suite, and they'll be there in half an hour. I hope you're ready to explain your disappearance without mentioning your arrest."

Carter looked at the car and then looked down the street, but Lynne had disappeared. His stomach felt like it was filled with lead, and he stood, frozen with indecision. _I can't lose her,_ he thought, his chest constricting at the idea. He glanced back at Davis, waiting for him. _I don't want to lose her,_ he told himself, _but what could I do tonight? Maybe she just needs some time to cool down._ Even though he wanted to go after her, to try and fix this thing once and for all, he didn't. With a sigh, Carter got into the car, ignoring the little voice in his mind that told him it was time to man up if Lynne meant anything to him at all. _I clearly don't mean anything to her,_ he thought, remembering her bitter words. Sinking back against his seat, he closed his eyes and did his best to ignore Davis's rambling lecture.

### CHAPTER TWENTY

Mrs. Abbot was sitting out on the stoop of the brownstone talking animatedly on her cell phone when Lynne made it back to the neighborhood. Even though Lynne really didn't want to talk to anyone, she tried to smile at her neighbor as she went by. The woman motioned to Lynne to wait, and she quickly ended her phone conversation.

Smiling up at Lynne, she patted the stoop beside her. "Sit. It's a nice night for the neighborhood."

Lynne sighed. "I'd rather take a hot bath, thanks."

The woman frowned. "You're usually so bright, so friendly," she said, her lilting accent softening her words. "What's the problem tonight?"

Wearily, Lynne sat down on the step beside her neighbor. "Rough night," she said, burying her head in her hands.

Mrs. Abbot rubbed a gentle circle on her back. "My daughter's having a rough night, too."

Lynne lifted her face. "Was that who you were on the phone with?"

The woman nodded. "She calls when things are hard; I wish she'd call when she was happy, too."

"So California isn't going the way she wanted?"

Mrs. Abbot hesitated. "Yes and no," she finally said. "The job at the T.V. station is a good opportunity, considering she left home before she finished her journalism degree, but she's having more trouble with her heart."

Lynne felt her eyes tear up unexpectedly. "That's something I can totally understand."

Her neighbor studied her face. "Your new beaux isn't as charming as you thought?"

Lynne grimaced. "You could say that." She paused, wondering if she should just leave it alone, but then the words tumbled out. "He got me arrested tonight."

Mrs. Abbot's eyes went wide. "You need to stay away from him, sweetheart. That boy is bad news."

Unexpectedly, Lynne started to cry. "That's just the thing," she tried to explain, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "I can't stay away from him even if I wanted to; he's—" She paused, checking herself. "He's somebody at work," she finally said, biting her lip and struggling to get her emotions in check.

Mrs. Abbot frowned. "Then maybe it's time for a new job. That's the same advice I gave my daughter tonight, and I'm saying it again to you."

Lynne shook her head sadly. "How am I going to get a new job now that I've got a record?"

Her neighbor was silent, confirming Lynne's worst fears. After a moment, Mrs. Abbot patted her knee. "I don't have the answer, darlin', but I will tell you this. Things have a way of working out, even when it seems dark and impossible."

Lynne shook her head. "Thanks," she offered, even though in her heart, she knew there was no way things could work out. As she headed inside, she realized it wasn't the arrest that was worrying her, even though it should have been: it was the fact that Carter hadn't been willing to stick his neck out for her. _When it really mattered,_ she thought sourly, turning the key and letting herself into her apartment, _he was just like I thought. A spoiled, selfish celebrity._

"Didn't the weekend mean anything?" She asked the empty air in her apartment, her fists clenched at her sides. Shaking her head, Lynne tried to convince herself once and for all that it was a good thing it was over: Carter Edwards would never have stayed with somebody like her for the long haul. _It's better that I know this now,_ she told herself. _At least I won't be as hurt as if we'd actually been together._

But Lynne couldn't fight the sense of mourning that threatened to swallow her whole, or the lingering thought that she could have actually had something real with Carter.

***

The next week passed in a blur. Lynne resisted the urge to call in sick, even though every morning it was a struggle to get out of her bed, and Carter must have realized she wouldn't want to talk, because there were no calls from the Princess Suite any time when Lynne was on shift. Carly was disappointed, and after a few days of silence, she stopped looking up eagerly whenever the elevator dinged, but Lynne remained hyper-aware of the comings and goings of each person who went through the lobby. After a week, she was a nervous wreck, even though she kept telling herself that she didn't really want to deal with Carter anyway.

When her boss crooked his finger and led her back to his office on Friday afternoon, Lynne felt an overwhelming sense of dread, even though she had no idea why she might be in trouble. Despite Carter, her work had been meticulous as always. _Carter. Can he possibly know about us?_ Lynne swallowed her nerves and sat down as Mr. Arken closed the door.

"How long have you been an employee here at Regal?" He said without preamble.

Lynne blanched. "A long time. Nearly seven years."

Mr. Arken nodded, studying her face. "And you have been shift manager for what, three months?"

Lynne nodded again, unsure of what to say.

"Have I ever been unclear, any time in the years you have been with us, about what your duties are?"

Lynne shook her head. "No." _Oh, God, somehow, he knows about what happened in the Hamptons._ She clenched her fingers, digging her nails into her palms to keep her hands from shaking.

"Then would you care to explain that to me?" Mr. Arken tossed a newspaper in front of Lynne, and she leaned forward.

Not a newspaper; a supermarket tabloid. And there, buried on page three, was a photo of her and Carter inches away from the kiss that never happened on the sightseeing tour. Lynne swallowed, her mind racing. _Maybe I can talk my way out of this,_ she thought. _Maybe he doesn't know everything._

"Mr. Edwards asked me to show him the sights," Lynne said, choosing her words carefully. "It was right after he became our guest here."

"Is that why you've been up and down to the Princess Suite constantly?"

Lynne's throat felt dry. "What do you mean?"

Mr. Arken tapped his computer. "I've been reviewing the security footage. You've gone up to the penthouse an awful lot since Mr. Edwards became our guest."

Lynne paused. "I was just doing my job. The flowers needed straightening, and there were a couple of times when Mr. Edwards's manager asked me to come up to discuss housekeeping."

Mr. Arken studied her and then he sighed. "I'm afraid that's not going to cut it, Lynne. You can clean out your locker today, and return your uniforms once they've been cleaned."

Lynne stared at him, flabbergasted. "You're firing me?"

Her boss nodded. "We have a very strict non-fraternization policy between staff and guests. You know that. It's in your contract. And this," he tapped the tabloid, "seems to indicate that you flagrantly broke that policy."

Lynne's jaw worked, but she couldn't come up with anything to say. _Even if I didn't kiss Carter that night,_ she realized as she stared down at the damning tabloid, _that doesn't change what happened this weekend._

Feeling all the fight go out of her, Lynne simply nodded to her boss. "May I—may I take this?" She gestured to the newspaper.

Mr. Arken raised his eyebrow. "I don't care." He paused. "You've been a good employee, Lynne, but I think it's time you make a career change."

Without another word, Lynne hurried out of his office, tears brimming in her eyes, her hands clutched around the newspaper. Mercifully, she didn't run into any staff members as she cleaned out her locker, but Lynne paused in the shabby lobby for a moment, her eyes sweeping over the reception desk and the elevator doors. _I was almost happy here,_ she thought as she walked into the street. _Well, happy enough._ But, a little voice whispered in her mind, she hadn't been happy at all. The only times she'd really been happy lately was when she was running or meditating...and when she was with Carter.

***

Without her work to distract her, Lynne lapsed into melancholy. She tried to keep herself busy during the days, job hunting without enthusiasm, but mostly, she binged on some of her favorite movies. She resisted the urge to watch any with Carter in them, and some days, she did a good job of convincing herself that she'd never met the movie star at all. But every night, before she fell asleep, she couldn't stop herself from wishing there were a way to go back in time to that weekend in the Hamptons, when she'd almost believed it was possible to be in love with Carter Edwards, before life intervened and showed her just how wrong she was.

### CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Carter stared idly out the window of the Princess Suite while Davis prattled on about nothing behind him. Finally, the manager clapped his hand on Carter's shoulder, and he turned around, forcing himself to focus.

"That didn't take long at all. I told you you'd have a show in no time."

Carter nodded slowly. "You were right," he admitted. "And I'm actually really excited about this." Despite the arrest, Carter must have made a pretty good impression on Shultz and Jones, because they'd called Davis the next day to discuss the terms of hiring him to headline in their newest show. It was a dark comedy by an unknown playwright, and the minute Carter read the script, he knew it was what he'd been waiting for.

Davis grinned. "Don't say I never gave you anything," he joked, glancing around the suite. "I'm sure you're relieved to be getting your own place. Hotel living is fun for a bit, but I'm over it."

Carter disagreed, but he didn't say anything. He'd kept hoping that Lynne would seek him out, but that hadn't happened, and the more time passed since their fight, the less Carter knew how to take the first step toward repairing their relationship. _I sort of hoped fate would step in, but once I move out, that's not going to happen,_ he realized sadly.

He'd called his lawyer the morning after the mess, just like he'd promised, and it didn't take long to get Lynne's record cleared. Carter had wanted to tell her, but his lawyer advised him that it was best to deliver the news through official channels, and finally Carter agreed, allowing the man to send a letter to Lynne's home. She hadn't sought him out after that, and Carter was afraid that she didn't care if he'd gotten her name cleared. As rehearsals started and he began apartment hunting, Carter slowly convinced himself that he'd pushed Lynne away for good, and he told himself to just let it go.

But he still felt a twinge of disappointment every time he walked through the hotel lobby without seeing her.

Davis was looking at him intently, and Carter realized he'd stopped listening again. Shaking himself, he faked an apologetic smile. "I think I need more coffee."

Davis shook his head. "You're certainly a space cadet, that's for sure. I asked if there's anything you wanted to do before we hand in the hotel key."

For a moment, the tantalizing fantasy of marching down to the lobby and sweeping Lynne off her feet with a kiss that would show her how much he'd been missing her flashed through Carter's mind, but then he shook his head. "Nope. All set."

***

Somehow, Carter was both happier than he'd been in a long time, and incredibly depressed, too. The hours he put in on the show felt like candy to him, and he loved relearning all the nuances of live theatre that he'd forgotten during his film career. But the minute he got back to his uptown apartment, a dark cloud settled over him. He tried to tell himself that he was just tired, but late at night, when he couldn't sleep, he sometimes acknowledged that he was still thinking about what he'd almost had with Lynne.

The week before the show was ready to open, Carter finally stopped lying to himself. After the tech run ended for the evening, Carter turned down his cast mates' offer of a late meal at the diner, and headed out into the city. Hailing a cab, Carter set his course for Lynne's Brooklyn neighborhood, trying to figure out what he was going to say to her.

"I've missed you," he muttered to himself in the back of the car, but then he shook his head. "Seriously? I can do better than that."

"Trying to make up to your girl, man?" The cabbie asked him, glancing in the rearview mirror.

Carter nodded. "I don't even know if she's still interested in me. We were just starting out when I screwed things up."

Outside the car, it started to rain. "What'd you do?"

Carter closed his eyes. "Got her arrested."

To his surprise, the cabbie laughed. "A regular Bonnie and Clyde couple, huh?"

Cater gave him a weak smile, leaning his arms across the seat in front of him. "That wasn't really the worst of it. I let her down, let her think that I thought she was somehow less than me." The truth of the words hit him as he said it, and Carter's stomach clenched painfully at the realization. "I wasn't man enough," he admitted slowly, still stunned that he hadn't seen it sooner.

The cabbie clucked his tongue. "Nobody ever is. Maybe it's time to forget her and move on."

Carter shook his head. "I can't. I've been trying, but after Lynne, everyone else seems...flat, somehow. She was the first real woman I've met in a long time."

The cabbie was silent, and Carter sat back against the peeling upholstery. _I failed the first test,_ he thought with sharp clarity, _but if she gives me a second chance, I won't fail again._

When he got to Lynne's brownstone, he stood uncertainly on the curb for a moment, ignoring the pelting rain as he looked up at the old building. _I don't even know which apartment is hers_ , he realized, feeling like an idiot. For a moment, he considered turning around and forgetting the whole thing, but then he tucked his chin and hurried across the street, taking shelter under the narrow awning above the door to Lynne's building. Carter glanced at the buzzers to his left, and sighed. _Of course they aren't labeled: that would be too easy!_

Taking a deep breath, Carter pressed the first button. He held it for a moment, but nobody answered. He tried again, but still nothing. Rain was dripping down the back of his neck, and Carter tried to press up against the building, but the awning was practically useless. He pressed the second button, and after a few moments, a tired voice said, "What do you need, darlin'?"

"Lynne?" He didn't think it was her, but on the old speaker, it was hard to be sure.

"She's my upstairs neighbor," the voice said. There was a pause, and then the woman said, "You that fool who broke her heart?"

Carter swallowed. "I hope not. Sorry for bothering you."

He took his finger off the button and stared at the one right above it. _Broke her heart?_ Tentatively, he pressed the button.

After a moment that felt like an eternity, the voice he'd been missing crackled trough the speaker. "Who is it?"

Carter's mouth felt dry. "Carter," he finally said, wondering how she'd react.

There was a pause. "I don't want to talk to you," Lynne finally said.

Carter ran his hand through his hair. "I figured, but you don't have to talk. I've got somethings I need to tell you, and you don't have to do anything. Just listen."

She didn't say anything, and Carter glanced up at the building. _God, she could call the cops on me for trespassing if she wanted. How ironically appropriate!_ He took a deep breath and held the button down. "I know I acted like a jerk, and I'm sorry. Taking you down in the tunnels wasn't the best idea I've ever had, but I've realized that the worst of it was not sticking up for you." He paused, collecting his thoughts. "It wasn't enough to pay your bail or anything; a real man wouldn't have let you get arrested in the first place, or he would have been right there beside you in handcuffs. I didn't think when I got myself off the hook, and I'm sorry. You asked me that night if I'd told Davis we were together, and I lied. I hadn't told him because being with you felt so right, and I was afraid that if I said it out loud to anybody, I'd lose you."

Carter's hair was soaked from the rain, but other than static, he didn't hear anything on the speaker. _Don't wuss out now,_ he admonished himself. "Every time I've dated anyone publicly, the relationship has been empty. It's all smoke and mirrors for the press, until one day your breakup makes the front cover of a gossip magazine. I didn't want that to be me and you." He paused. "I didn't realize by wanting to keep you my little secret that I was hurting you. You are worth so much more than that; you should be with a guy who isn't afraid to tell the world that you're his. If you'd give me another chance, I promise I'll never lie about us again."

He took his finger away from the speaker, totally spent. Carter glanced at the house and then back at the speaker, wondering if Lynne was going to say anything. The rain was coming down harder, and Carter wished he'd thought to bring a coat or an umbrella. He shivered and waited a few moments, but then he turned away from the building. _She's not going to forgive me_ , he realized with a sinking heart. _Time to stop acting like a lovesick fool._

The street was deserted, and Carter shoved his hands in his pockets, glancing toward the corner to find a cab. He was just about to start walking when he thought he heard a door swing open behind him. Hardly daring to hope, he turned around as Lynne stepped onto the porch of the Brownstone. Carter hurried toward her, but he paused on the step a few feet away.

Lynne studied his face. "You got me fired."

Carter's jaw dropped. "The arrest? But that's all cleared up."

She shook her head. "Not the arrest. Someone snapped a picture of us on that sightseeing tour, and it wound up in a tabloid. My boss saw it." She raised an eyebrow. "I'm surprised you didn't know."

_That's it, then._ Carter hung his head. "I never meant for any of this to happen to you." Sadly, he turned away from her. "I guess I'm the last person you want to see right now."

Lynne hesitated a moment. "It's cold out here," she finally offered, rubbing her arms and trying to avoid the raindrops.

Carter nodded as he turned to face her again. "I don't mind," he said, and he realized he meant it. _Even if I catch pneumonia, it'll be worth it: she's still talking to me!_

Lynne reached a tentative hand toward Carter, and he took it, letting her pull him toward her under the skimpy awning. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and press her body against his, but he held himself back. _If she doesn't want this, I can't force it_.

She bit her lip, and then a shy smile stretched onto her face. "Come inside so we can talk, okay?"

His heart soared. For a moment, he stood there, speechless, but then he grinned and took a step closer, reaching out to cup her cheek with his hand. "Whatever you want." Slowly, he tipped his head down, and after a beat, she brought her lips up to meet his. The kiss was sweeter than he'd imagined it could be, and he wanted to lose himself in the warmth of her lips and the taste of her mouth. Lynne brought her arms up and wrapped them around his neck, pulling him tight, and Carter took hold of her waist, pulling her even closer as they melted into each other.

_I was right,_ he realized as he kissed Lynne, oblivious of the rain. _This is something real._
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. I decided to start with "Cinderella" since that story is one with the most wide-spread appeal: did you know that there are over three hundred versions of this fairy tale from all over the globe? And 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! The last book in the series, _Princess Suite,_ was inspired by "The Princess and the Pea", a tale about the seemingly silly trials a girl must go through to prove that she's a real princess. The theme of proving your worth through tests is a common one in fairy tales, and princesses (and princes, too, sometimes) had to wash laundry, bake feasts, and sleep on peas to prove to the other people in their stories that they were the real deal.

If you enjoyed Carter and Lynne, Sean and Amy, and Kingston and Nora, I hope you'll consider leaving a review of _Once Upon A Desire: The Complete Collection_ 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.

Thanks for curling up with my books, and here's to happily ever after!

Best,

Jen <3
More Titles from the Author

Coming Soon! A novel of romantic suspense.

ONCE UPON A DESIRE: THE COMPLETE COLLECTION

By Jen McConnel

Published by Jen McConnel

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2018

Cover Design Brightfish Press

This series was originally published 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.

