m

“The chances of him,” I told Rosie, “being actually serious are the same chances I have of having Chris Evans pop out of nowhere and confess his undying love for me.”

“Ignoring me won’t make me disappear. You know that.”

I did. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t keep trying,” I muttered under my breath.”

“Sorry about that, Aaron. We are not ignoring you.” Her grin strained. “We are … debating something.”

“We are ignoring him though. You don’t need to spare his feelings. He doesn’t have any.”

“If you could, tell Aaron that I don’t think one can laugh at, or much less understand, jokes when one lacks a sense of humor, please. That would be great. Thanks.”

“I’m pretty sure my words are reaching Catalina down there just fine, but if you could tell her that I have work to do and I cannot entertain this much longer, I would appreciate it.”

Down there? Stupidly large man.”

“I did not use that word.”

“You … sort of did, sweetie,” my best friend—no, former best friend as of right now—confirmed. Eyes narrowed, I mouthed, What the hell, traitor?”

“you must be experiencing serious hearing issues because, yet again, you heard wrong. I don’t need you, Aaron Blackford.” I swallowed, willing some of the dryness away. “I could write it down for you if you want. Send you an email, too, if that’d help at all.”

“She did,” I heard Miss Traitor confirm. My head whirled in her direction. “What?” She shrugged, signing her death sentence. “You did, honey.”

I needed new friends. ASAP.”

“And did you not say that your ex-boyfriend is the best man and thinking of standing in the vicinity of him, alone and lame and pathetically single—those were your words again—made you want to tear off your own skin?”

I had. I had said that.”

“At some point in the past, I would have thrown darts at a poster of his face.”

“Nothing to think about.” I cut my hand through the air between us. Then, I smiled my version of Rosie’s fake, toothy grin. “I’d take a chimpanzee dressed in a tuxedo before taking you.”

“Haven’t you watched any romantic comedies ever?” I watched the scowl deepen. “Not even The Wedding Date?”

No answer, just more of that arctic staring.

“Do you even watch movies? Or do you just … work?”

“I’d rather give up chocolate for a full year than admit to Aaron that he was right.”

“Lina: I have no idea what you mean. Is he waiting for something?

Lina: Something like a heart transplant? I heard he doesn’t have one.”

“He pointed at me with the pencil. “This? Seriously?”

I snagged it out of his hand. “It cheers me up.” I dropped it in the cup. “Does it offend your tastes, Mr. Robot?”

“I have no idea why you have this impulse to fly in with your red cape like a nerdy Clark Kent and save the day, but no, thanks. You might look a little like him, but I’m not a damsel in distress.”

“Do you think you can tell Catalina to turn around? I’d appreciate talking to her face and not to the back of her head.”

“I’m pretty sure my words are reaching Catalina down there just fine, but if you could tell her that I have work to do and I cannot entertain this much longer, I would appreciate it.”

“Fine. So, I said that. Doesn’t mean I’m that desperate.”

“That’s what truly helpless people would say. But whatever makes you sleep better at night, Catalina.”

“That was odd.” The same deep voice came again. “But I guess it goes with your personality.”

“He straightened to his full length. “A nerdy Clark Kent?” His brows furrowed. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“What are you doing?” I asked him.

“You asked me that question already.” He pinned me with a bored look. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“I don’t need your help, Blackford.”

He sighed. “I think I’m having another déjà vu.”

“I heard Aaron’s long sigh. “If you ask me if it’s poisoned, I swear—”

“I don’t want to waste more time arguing about something you are too stubborn to admit, so yes. Sure.”

“I don’t need you, thank you very much.”

“Sure,” he repeated, turning my exasperation one notch up. “Although I think you do.”

“You think wrong.”

That brow rose higher. “And yet it sounded like you really do need me.”

“She wasn’t even scared. She wasn’t sure she felt anything at all.”

“She couldn’t imagine how it had felt, and as the years went by, she couldn’t make herself feel it again. The horror of the murders dulled with time. Her memories of the day blurred.”

“I know it’s an honor to be raised alongside the Gentry’s own children. A terrifying honor, of which I will never be worthy.

It would be hard to forget it, with all the reminders I am given.”

“We are getting older and things are changing. We are changing. And as eager as I am for it, I am also afraid.”

“You may think salt is sufficient protection, but you children are forgetful. Better to go without. As for dancing, once begun, you mortals will dance yourselves to death if we don’t prevent it.”

I look at my feet and say nothing.

We children are not forgetful.”

“To go inside, we must ride between two trees, an oak and a thorn, and then straight into what appears to be the stone wall of an abandoned folly. I’ve done it hundreds of times, but I flinch anyway. My whole body braces, I grip the reins hard, and my eyes mash shut.”

“Oriana steps forward, probably to remind Taryn and me of all the things she doesn’t want us to do. I don’t give her the chance.”

“I turn my gaze to the floor. Though I hate it, I sink to the ground on one knee, bend my head, and grit my teeth”

“Valerian gives my braid a hard tug. I wince, useless fury coiling in my belly. He laughs and moves on.

My fury curdles into shame. I wish I had smacked his hand away, even though it would have made everything worse.”

“I want to feel something, something besides a vague queasiness. I want to feel more, but every time I look at it, I feel less.”

“I’m so tired,” I say out loud. “So tired.”

I sit there for a long time, watching the rising sun gild the sky, listening to the waves crash as the tide goes out, when a creature flies up to alight on the edge of my window. At first it seems like an owl, but it’s got hob eyes. “Tired of what, sweetmeat?” it asks me.

I sigh and answer honestly for once. “Of being powerless.”

“He doesn’t understand how much that makes them loathe us.

Not that I am not grateful. I like the lessons. Answering the lecturers cleverly is something no one can take from me, even if the lecturers themselves occasionally pretend otherwise. I will take a frustrated nod in place of effusive praise. I will take it and be glad because it means I can belong whether they like it or not.”

“There is nothing I can say to make them stop, and I know it. I have no power here. But today I can’t seem to choke down my anger at my own impotence.”

“What they don’t realize is this: Yes, they frighten me, but I have always been scared, since the day I got here. I was raised by the man who murdered my parents, reared in a land of monsters. I live with that fear, let it settle into my bones, and ignore it. If I didn’t pretend not to be scared, I would hide under my owl-down coverlets in Madoc’s estate forever. I would lie there and scream until there was nothing left of me. I refuse to do that. I will not do that.”

“When I was little, I used to sit at the bank all day, staring at faerie countenances instead of my own, hoping that I might someday catch a glimpse of my mother looking back at me.

Eventually, it hurt too much to try.”

“I want to scream at him: Do you know how hard it is to always keep your head down? To swallow insults and endure outright threats? And yet I have done so. I thought it proved my toughness. I thought if you saw I could take whatever came at me and still smile, you would see that I was worthy.

You’re no killer.

He has no idea what I am.

Maybe I don’t know, either. Maybe I never let myself find out.”

“I pinch my leg until pain washes everything away.”

“Do you know why Madoc won’t let me try for knighthood? Because he thinks I’m weak.”

“Jude,” she cautions.

“I thought I was supposed to be good and follow the rules,” I say. “But I am done with being weak. I am done with being good. I think I am going to be something else.”

“when the fun wore off and I still couldn’t stop, it was just terrifying. It turned out that my fear was equally amusing to him, though. Princess Elowyn found me at the end of the revel, puking and crying.”

“Here’s why I don’t like these stories: They highlight that I am vulnerable. No matter how careful I am, eventually I’ll make another misstep. I am weak. I am fragile. I am mortal.

I hate that most of all.

Even if, by some miracle, I could be better than them, I will never be one of them.”

“Is this fun?” I call to the shore. I am so furious that there’s no room for being scared. “Are you enjoying yourselves?”

“My foot slips on slick rocks, and I am under, swept downstream helplessly, gulping muddy water. I panic, snorting into my lungs. I thrust out a hand, and it closes on the root of a tree. I get my balance again, gasping and coughing.”

“We can curse you to wither away for want of a song you’ll never hear again or a kind word from my lips. We’re not mortal. We will break you. You’re a fragile little thing; we’d hardly need to try. Give up.”

“Never,” I say.”

“I think about how much I hate them and how much I hate myself.”

“a different person is looking back at me.

Maybe the person I might have been if I’d been raised human.

Whoever that is.”

“But when I see human families all together, especially families with sticky-mouthed, giggling little sisters, I don’t like the way I feel.

Angry.

I don’t imagine myself back in a life like theirs; what I imagine is going over there and scaring them until they cry.

I would never, of course.

I mean, I don’t think I would.”

“Knighthood would have been boring anyway,” Vivi says, effectively dismissing the thing I’ve been working toward for years. I sigh. It’s annoying, but also reassuring that she doesn’t think it’s that big a deal, when the loss has felt overwhelming to me.”

“not giving her the satisfaction of being shocked by what she said about our parents. She acts like we don’t remember, like there’s some way I am ever going to forget. She acts like it’s her personal tragedy and hers alone.”

“A wave of panicky frustration comes over me at the sight of her intent expression. I so badly wanted her to choose me to be one of her knights. And though she can’t now, a sudden awful fear that I couldn’t have impressed her comes over me. Maybe Madoc was right. Maybe I lack the instinct for dealing death.

If I don’t try too hard today, at least I never need know if I would have been good enough.”

“My stomach is sour with the lack of food, but I no longer feel hungry. I feel sick, eaten up with nerves. I try to ignore everything but the exercises I move through to limber up my muscles.”

“There’s no shame in surrender. As Taryn said, they’re just words. I don’t have to mean them. I can lie.

I start to lower myself to the ground. This will be over quickly, every word will taste like bile, and then it will be over.

When I open my mouth, though, nothing comes out.

I can’t do it.”

“I stagger past the tournament tents to a stone fountain, where I splash my face with water. I bend down, starting to clean the gravel from my knees. My legs feel stiff, and I am shaking all over.

“Are you all right?” Locke asks, gazing down with his tawny fox eyes. I didn’t even hear him behind me.

I am not.

I am not all right, but he can’t know that, and he shouldn’t be asking.”

Instead of being afraid, I could become something to fear

The odd thing about ambition is this: You can acquire it like a fever, but it is not so easy to shed.

I kissed him on the mouth, and then I threatened to kiss him some more if he didn't do exactly what I wanted.

Vivi is right; it cost me something to be the way I am. But I do not know what. And I don't know if I can get it back. I don't even know if I want it.

I'm not a monster, I'd told her, back when I said I would never hurt Oak. But maybe being a monster was my calling.

You put a curse on that girl over there,” I tell him. “Fix her immediately.”

“She admired my ears,” the boy says. “I was only giving her what she desired. A party favor.”

“That’s what I am going to say after I gut you and use your entrails as streamers,” I tell him. “I was only giving him what he wanted. After all, if he didn’t want to be eviscerated, he would have honored my very reasonable request.

“If I cannot become better than them. I will become so much worse.”

“Sorry if you can’t read my handwriting,” I say, grabbing the notebook. The page tears, leaving most of my night’s work shredded. “But that’s not exactly my disadvantage.”

“I brush myself off. “Are you calling me out? Because then it’s my right to choose the time and the weapon.” How I would love to knock her down.”

“I don’t feel particularly miserable right at the moment.” I can’t show him I’m afraid.

His mouth curls. “What happiness do you have? Rutting and breeding. You’d go mad if you accepted the truth of what you are. You are nothing. You barely exist at all. Your only purpose is to create more of your kind before you die some pointless and agonizing death.”

I look him in the eye. “And?”

He seems taken aback, although the sneer doesn’t leave his face.

“Yeah, yeah, sure. I am going to die. And I am a big liar. So what?”

“You had the advantage of me twice, and twice you gave it away. Good luck getting it again.”

“Perhaps someone will ask for your hand and you’ll be made a permanent member of the High Court.”

“I want to win my place,” I tell her.”

“They talk about honor, but what they really care about is power. I am good enough with a blade, knowledgeable in strategy. All I need is a chance to prove myself.”

“Take a big bite.”

“Make me,” I say before I can stop myself”

“She can show us how sorry she is,” Cardan drawls. “Tell her she doesn’t belong in the Summer Tournament.”

“Afraid I’ll win?” I ask, which isn’t smart.”

“Nicasia's wrong about me. I don't desire to do as well in the tournament as one of the fey. I want to win. I do not yearn to be their equal. In my heart, I yearn to best them.”

“I don’t care if they don’t like my being in the tournament. Once I become a knight, I’ll be beyond their reach.”

“Do you know why Madoc won’t let me try for knighthood? Because he thinks I’m weak.”

“Jude,” she cautions.

“I thought I was supposed to be good and follow the rules,” I say. “But I am done with being weak. I am done with being good. I think I am going to be something else.”

“Cardan’s gaze catches mine, and I can’t help the evil smile that pulls up the corners of my mouth. His eyes are bright as coals, his hatred a living thing, shimmering in the air between us like the air above black rocks on a blazing summer day.

“Have you lost your wits?” Taryn demands, shaking my shoulder so that I have to turn to her. “You’re making everything worse. There’s a reason no one stands up to them.”

“I know,” I say softly, unable to keep the smile off my lips. “A lot of reasons.”

She’s right to be worried. I just declared war.”

“Give up.”

“Never,” I say.”

“I leave my books and cross the grass toward them. Cardan half-turns, and I shove him so hard that his back hits one of the trees. His eyes go wide.

“I don’t know what you said to her, but don’t you ever go near my sister again,” I tell him, my hand still on the front of his velvet doublet. “You gave her your word.”

“I’m not withdrawing from the tournament,” I tell her.

“Even if it wins you nothing but more woe?” she asks.

“Even then,” I say.”

“My good intentions evaporate on the wind. My blood is on fire, boiling in my veins. I do not have much power, but here is what I have—I can force his hand. Cardan might want to hurt me, but I can make him want to hurt me worse. We’re supposed to play at war. When they call us to our places, I play. I play as viciously as possible”

“You’re no killer, Madoc said.

Right now I feel that I could be.”

“Get down on your knees,” Cardan says, looking insufferably pleased with himself. His fury has transmuted into gloating. “Beg. Make it pretty. Flowery. Worthy of me.”

“Beg?” I echo.”

“You think because you can humiliate me, you can control me?” I say, looking him in those black eyes. “Well, I think you’re an idiot. Since we started being tutored together, you’ve gone out of your way to make me feel like I’m less than you. And to coddle your ego, I have made myself less. I have made myself small, I have kept my head down. But it wasn’t enough to make you leave Taryn and me alone, so I’m not going to do that anymore.

“So, in short, Valerian tried to kill me,” I say, finishing my story. “And I stabbed him… So I might be in some trouble.”

“He grabs hold of my wrist. I am shocked by the sensation of his skin warm against mine. “Take care,” he says, and then smiles. “It would be very dull to have to sit here for an entire day just because you went and got yourself killed.”

“My last thoughts would be of your boredom,”

“You were just going,” I tell Locke.

He grins. “I find I am very comfortable here,” Locke says. “Surely there’s nothing you have to say to the king that is so very personal or private.”

“It’s a shame you’ll never find out. Go. Now.”

“Stop you?” I echo. “Sure. If you’re a huge jerk and a threat to Elfhame, I’ll pop your head right off.”

“If you joke about this, I am going to—”

“Kill me?” he asks, raising both black brows.

I think I might hate him after all.”

i cant believe the land chose me

i, jude duarte, high queen of elfhame, in exile, spend most of my mornings dozing in front of daytime television watching cooking competitions and cartoons

“i don’t take commands from mortals” he says with his customary cruel smile. “so your gonna say something nice?” i don’t think so faeries cant lie.

“have i told you how hideous you look tonight?” “no tell me”

“i cant”

i can be charming, i charmed you didnt i?

you never break.

i know when we come to a door because i walk straight into it, much to the roaches amusement. “you really cant see” he says. i rubbed my forehead “i told you i couldn’t” “yes but you’re the liar, i’m not supposed to believe anything you say” “why would i lie about something like that?”

i am no longer a child and i don’t need comfort.

“you betraying toad”

“I’m a jerk. I’m an idiot,” I say. “I admit it. You don’t have to lecture me.”

“I thought you were going to give me a hard time about the glamour,” she says. “You know, the one you resisted.”

“You shouldn’t magic your sisters.”

“And you shouldn’t try to chop yours in half.”

“Maybe he regrets it. After all, I could be scolding him right now, instead of you.”

That makes me smile.”

“You won’t believe what we found in the treasury,” Vivi says.

“I thought treasuries were just full of gems and gold and stuff.”

“We found armor. Glorious armor. For you.”

“For a queen, Which, you may recall, there hasn’t been in a little while.”

“It may well have belonged to Mab herself,”

“You’re really building this up,”

“Well, even if the serpent bites off your head,” says Tatterfell, “the rest of you will still look good.”

“That’s the spirit,” I tell her.”

“Nothing can be seen until the event is concluded.”

“No pressure, then,” I mutter.”

“Do you remember the fairy tale with the snake who has the helicopter parents and marries the princess?”

“Helicopter?”

“You’re the one who’s late. But as the hero of the hour, that’s all to the good. I am going to make you into a vision.”

“Sounds like a lot of work on your part,”

“Will you dance?” he asks, presenting his hand.

“You may remember that I am not particularly accomplished at it,”

“I don’t know what to apologize for first,” I say. “Cutting off your head or hesitating so long to do it. ”

“I grin irrepressibly at Cardan. He smiles back, with a little surprise. It’s possible I don’t smile like that very often.”

“Vivi blows a noisemaker. “Here,” she says, passing out paper crowns for us to wear.

“This is ridiculous,” I complain, but put mine on.”

“A black horse was nibbling the grass of the lawn when they went outside. Its eyes were big and soft. Jude wanted to throw her arms around its neck and press her wet face into its silky mane.”

“In Faerie, there are no fish sticks, no ketchup, no television”

“There are two ways for mortals to become permanent subjects of the Court: marrying into it or honing some great skill—in metallurgy or lute playing or whatever. Not interested in the first, I have to hope I can be talented enough for the second.”

“She hops onto the bed beside me, disarranging my small pile of threadbare stuffed animals—a koala, a snake, a black cat—all beloved of my seven-year-old self. I cannot bear to throw out any of my relics.”

“We’re going to have fun tonight.”

“Fun?”

“I can see why humans succumb to the beautiful nightmare of the Court, why they willingly drown in it.

I know I shouldn’t love it as I do, stolen as I am from the mortal world, my parents murdered. But I love it all the same.”

“They talk about honor, but what they really care about is power. I am good enough with a blade, knowledgeable in strategy. All I need is a chance to prove myself.”

“Someone who, along with Princess Rhyia, doesn’t appear to be attending tonight. But—oh no. I do see him.

Prince Cardan, sixth-born to the High King Eldred, yet still the absolute worst, strides across the floor toward us.”

“Vivi said she wishes she had one.”

“I’m glad she doesn’t,” I say firmly, which is stupid. I have nothing against tails.”

“I stand in front of my window and imagine myself a fearless knight, imagine myself a witch who hid her heart in her finger and then chopped her finger off.”

“Are you going to quit the tournament?”

“You mean because of Cardan and his Court of Jerks?”

“You’re littering in a magical lake,” she tells me.

“It’ll rot,” I say. “And so will we”

“Cardan’s gaze catches mine, and I can’t help the evil smile that pulls up the corners of my mouth”

“There is always a moment when it begins to move that I can’t help grinning. There is something about the sheer impossibility of it, the magnificence of the woods streaking by and the way the ragwort hooves kick up gravel as they leap up into the air, that gives me an electric rush of pure adrenaline.”

“You want to sit down or something?” Heather says, nodding toward the food court.

“I haven’t worn anything in days,” the High King drawls, and if there is something brittle in his eyes, nearly everyone is too awed to notice. “I don’t see why I ought to start now.”

“Modesty?” I force out, playing along, surprised he can joke about the curse, or anything.

He gives me a dazzling, insouciant smile. The kind of smile you can hide behind. “Every part of me is a delight.”

“I always supposed I would be delicious,” I hear him say, although I note that he does not take any of the meat for himself.”

“Councilor,” Cardan says, leaning back against the table, his posture the easy languor of someone who’s already in his cups. “Were you hoping for one of these little honey cakes? I could have passed them down the table.”

“And many other matters we were hoping to take up with you.”

“Tomorrow,” Cardan insists. “Or the next day. Or perhaps next week.”

“And I can’t quite think past how wonderous it is that you’re alive.”

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear those words,” he says. “You don’t want me dead.”

“If you joke about this, I am going to—”

“Kill me?” he asks, raising both black brows.

I think I might hate him after all.”

“But now you’ve explained it,” he says. “And you do love me.”

“I love you,” I confirm.

“Because I am clever and funny,” he says, smiling. “You didn’t mention my handsomeness.”

“Silence,” says Cardan, his manner utterly changed, his tongue a lash. “Jude was just getting to the interesting bit.”

“Cardan looks as though he just stepped off the stage at a playhouse, and while he can glamour himself, I am not at all sure he knows what it is he’s supposed to wear in the illusion.”

“Cardan looks at his reflection in the door of the microwave and adjusts his crown so it’s at an angle.

“I just meant that I wanted to do that. Not because I wanted anything in return. Because I wanted you.”

“I’m asking if you want a drink,” I dodge.

He grins cockily. “No, you’re asking if I want to stay.”

I look away.

“Sabrina.”

“What?” I snap.

He waits until I relent and meet his eyes. Then he smiles, softer this time. “I’d like to. Stay, I mean.”

I shrug as though it’s no big deal and doesn’t matter to me one way or the other.

But it matters. A lot.

And I’m pretty sure he knows it.”

“He dips his head and kisses me. Not like he wants to shut me up, not like he’s trying to win an argument, but because he wants to.”

“There’s nothing but afternoon sunshine, a brisk breeze, sand, water . . . a beautiful woman.

My woman.”

“She freezes when she sees me, and I freeze, too, not in surprise, but because of how beautiful she looks.”

“otherwise I look just like her.”

“So she was beautiful. What else?”

“You’re good at this,” I say begrudgingly.

“Only with you.” He brushes a strand of hair off my face.”

“Instead he pulls my wineglass out of my hand, sets it aside. Then he gathers me to him, my head against his chest, his heart steady and reassuring beneath my ear.

I feel his lips on my hair, and though I don’t think I’ve ever sought a hug for comfort in my entire life, at this moment, I get why people do. I let my arm slide around his waist, closing my eyes at how right it feels to be held by him.”

“he pulls me in for a kiss, and I smile when I feel his smile.

The kiss starts out light and playful, but with each brush of our lips, we linger a little longer, our breath growing a little faster.”

“I’m already all the way, painfully in love with a man who will never love me back.”

“tonight matters. She matters.”

“You want Sabrina,” Ian says. “But for how long?”

“I want Sabrina . . . forever. For always.”

The guys look a bit shocked, but Kate merely smiles in triumph. “I knew it. You love her.”

I brace for the stab of panic, and I’m freaked out, all right, but not in the way I expected to be.

I’m not in panic over my love for her. On the contrary, loving Sabrina might just be the most sane, smartest thing I’ve ever done.

I love her. I love her more than anything.

My panic? Fear that I might be too late—that she might no longer love me.”

“You said you wanted a Tiffany cut, but if that was hypothetical or you’ve changed your mind, we’ll get you a new one.”

My hand goes to my heart. “What? What are you—”

Before I can finish my sentence, he calmly and unapologetically drops to one knee. “Sabrina Cross . . .”

I hear someone sob. Probably Lara. Or Kate. Maybe both.

Then I realize it’s me. I’m crying.

“Don’t you dare tell me it’s too soon,” Matt continues. “Don’t tell me we’ve just started dating, because that’s bullshit and you know it.”

“I let out a little laugh, because it’s so us. Only Matt’s proposal would include profanity. Only his proposal to me.”

“I shake my head in confusion. “You’re giving up a multibillion-dollar account—”

“I’d give up everything for you. Every client, every last dollar.”

“Matt,” I whisper. “You’ve always wanted—”

“You. I’ve always wanted you. That much I’ve known for a long time, but what I didn’t know until this week was that I loved you. I love you, Sabrina. Please, for the love of God, tell me it’s not too late.”

“He does as I ask, closing the distance between us and slipping his free hand around my back. “Say yes,” he whispers in my ear. “Please say yes.”

Like there was ever a choice. There’s never been any choice but him.”

“You still want me?” he asks roughly.

I smile and wiggle my finger.

“Sabrina.” His voice is urgent now. Nearly begging.

I smile and kiss his chin. “Hell yes, I want you. I love you, Matt Cannon.”

He pulls the ring out of the box, and the second he slides it onto my finger, he kisses me, hard and fast and completely unapologetic for the fact that we’re basically making out in public. I kiss him back, wonderfully aware of the weight of the ring on my finger, the applause of our friends in the background, but mostly aware of him.

“You know what I think?” he whispers, pulling back.

“Hmm?” I ask happily.

He smiles. “We’re going to rock the hell out of this happily-ever-after business.”

I pull his head down for another kiss. Count on it.”

“He’s everything I need that I didn’t know I wanted.”

“Say something charming,” I whisper.

“Your ass looks amazing in that dress,” he says under his breath.

I let out a low chuckle so that anyone watching assumes we’re sharing an intimate inside joke, but my words are chastising. “I said charming not horny.”

“Compliments are charming.”

“Sure. Compliments on smiles. Hair. A woman’s ass, not so much. No wonder you’re single.”

He glances down at me. “I’m not single at the moment. I have you.”

“That night when Matt and I first met had been romantic. And sexual. Hell, it’d been magical.

In the span of hours, he’d made me feel like no man had in my entire life. Butterflies, breathlessness, the whole bit.”

“he drags his fingers lightly along my palm. My breath catches at the caress, but instead of looking smug, he looks intent. Thoughtful as he holds my gaze.”

“He leans down to kiss my cheek. “I’m sorry our lunch got cut short.”

I blink in surprise at the sincerity in his voice. We both know Jarod Lanham is the goal here, not me.

Don’t we?

“Call me later?” I ask him, letting my voice go soft and a little hopeful.

“Of course.” His eyes stay locked on mine.”

“Cannon?”

“Yup.”

I look down at my wine. “Juno and I were going to order takeout. I was thinking Chinese.”

“Okay?” This time it’s a question.

“You can stay. Eat with us. I mean, if you want.” I look up.

“Okay.” This time it’s not a question. And it’s paired with a happy grin that makes my heart feel like flying.”

“Cannon.”

I don’t look at her. I can’t. “Yeah?”

She leans toward me slightly and whispers, “You had a history tutor?”

I let out a startled laugh. Her response is so unexpected and so fucking perfect that I do the only thing I can do.

I bend my head to hers and kiss her.”

“I join Matt’s family by the fire pit, both pleased and alarmed when he sits beside me, close enough for our knees to touch.

Pleased, because I like the intimacy of the moment.

Alarmed . . . because I also like him.”

“We going to talk about the fact that I kissed you tonight?”

“I’ve decided to overlook the breach of contract. You’ve got one hell of a home life there, Cannon.”

“I do. But what’s your excuse?”

“For what?”

“For kissing me back.”

She gives me an annoyed look. “We’re not talking about that.”

“Good,” I say simply. “Because talking’s not at all what I had in mind.”

Then I reach out and haul her to me.”

“A rule I decided to break the second he reached for me.

For that matter, I think I decided to break it the moment I asked him to stay for a cup of tea instead of sending him right back out into the rain.

My brain’s screaming, Fool. My heart’s screaming, Mayday.

But my body . . . . it knows what it wants—what it needs—and it has always needed him.”

“pretend to be completely smitten.”

“Smitten with what?”

I exhale through my nose. “With me, you jackass.”

“His hand slips around my neck, tilting my face up, and my breath catches. Damn him.

“No hookups, remember?”

“I know,” he says, resting his forehead against mine. “But I can’t think when you’re dressed like that.”

“I’m not really dressed at all,” I mutter.

His smile is strained. “Exactly.”

I don’t reply, but the sound of our breathing says plenty all on its own. Want. Need.”

“Helpless against the onslaught, I do the only thing I can think of. I kiss her.

My fingers tangle in her hair, and my mouth is urgent as it claims hers.

She stiffens immediately, her hands going to my shoulders, ready to shove me off.

I gentle my touch, even as I ease closer. I let her know that she can step away if she chooses, but I intend to make damn sure she makes another choice. I kiss the corner of her mouth softly. Kiss me back. My lips drift over her stubborn jaw. Want me back. I feel the moment she capitulates, her small body softening against mine. I pull her closer, my mouth finding hers again”

“I narrow my eyes, because I’m pretty sure she hasn’t even seen the shirt yet.

She presses her hand harder against my mouth. Shut up.

I smile against her palm.”

“I bite back a laugh, and Sabrina rests her forehead briefly to my shoulder in defeat.

“Any ideas?” I whisper against her fingers.

She lifts her hand, and though I can practically see the wheels turning in her brain, trying to come up with a solution, she knows when she’s beat. Sabrina lets out a little sigh and shakes her head.”

“Okay?”

I purse my lips and consider. “Okay.”

His eyes narrow. “That’s perhaps the scariest word you’ve ever said.”

“How do you figure?” I say, taking a sip of the water the bartender’s just set in front of me.

Matt leans in a bit farther. “How easily you forget that I know you. And I know that any time you easily agree to something, hell is sure to follow.”

I hide my smile, because damn it . . . he does know me.”

“Thought you and I were both cynics?” she says with a small smile. “We are. I’m just saying, in theory, I could see the appeal of having a partner. Someone to come home to, someone to talk to about my day. Someone to have dinner with.”

“Someone to go to brunch with,” I supply.

“Right. Exactly.”

Our gazes lock and hold, and something strange passes between us.”

“How many pictures were there?”

“Just a couple. But I could tell by the way you looked at her that you’re crazy about her.”

“I worry I could start to enjoy her. Enjoy us.

To an extent I’ve always enjoyed what we have—the bickering, the sex. Definitely the sex.

But this past weekend, even around the frustration and exhaustion, there was something else there. Potential. Potential that the two of us share something deeper.”

“You’re late,” I say, not glancing up from my phone as Matt comes through the front door of the restaurant.

“Does anybody like you?” he mutters irritably, crossing his arms as he stands in front of me.

I grin. “Lara does. She asked me to be a bridesmaid.” I can’t help it. Two days later, I’m still riding high on that one.

His gaze searches my face, and when he smiles back, I have the strange sense he gets what the invitation meant to me. “Yeah?”

“Yup.”

His smile gets wider. “Excellent. I’m one of the best men. Maybe we can walk down the aisle together.”

I purse my lips. “Actually, now that you mention it, it’s a church wedding. I’m pretty sure your skin will burn off if you try to enter the building.”

“Sabrina and I both glance up to see Matt Cannon plop down on her other side.

“How the hell did you find us?” I ask.

“Please,” he says, reaching over, picking up Sabrina’s fork, and taking a bite of her salad. “You always come here when you’re in a mood. God only knows why.” He points the fork at the salad. “That is disgusting.” He washes it down with a sip of her wine.

“By all means,” she purrs in a dangerous voice that generally means die. “What’s mine is yours.”

“Really?” he asks, turning toward her, his gaze dropping to her cleavage.

“Go ahead. Try it,” she says. “I’ve been in a castration sort of mood lately.”

“I’m saved from my own thoughts by the arrival of Sabrina and Matt, along with the wave of sexual tension that they always seem to ride on.”

“ “What’s she talking about?”

“Got me.” Matt shrugs and digs his hand into a bowl of fancy cheese cracker things, yet another Sabrina addition. “I never speak her language.”

Sabrina slaps the back of his hand. “Don’t touch. Those are for Lara.”

“Ouch!” He shakes his hand. “Since when do you like the SEC better than me?”

“Since always. I like everyone better than you.”

“Doorman let me up.”

“You’re not on the list.”

“You sure about that?” he says with a grin. Then he looks up at me and does a double take at my appearance. “Whoa. Has it finally happened? Have you finally run out of skin-tight dresses and high heels?”

“What did you think, I slept in a push-up bra and Louboutins?”

His grin shifts from playful to seductive. “I know firsthand that you don’t.”

“Matt touches my arm. “Sabrina.”

“I don’t accept money in exchange for my company,” I say quietly, shrugging off his touch. “You of all people know that.”

“I do know that, but I’m also desperate,” he says, his voice urgent. “I need someone who knows the score. Someone who I won’t have to worry about getting the wrong idea. Someone who I can part ways with after my image is restored, no worse for wear.”

“And you think that’s me? Your mortal enemy?”

“I want you because you’re my mortal enemy, Sabrina.”

“Why?”

His eyes lock on mine. “Because of all the women in my life, you’re the one I can count on to never fall in love with me.”

“When I first met Sabrina Cross, I thought she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. Four years later? I still think it. The woman’s a perfect ten. Fantasy-worthy curves. Her long coffee-brown hair is streaked with gold, her eyes piercing and blue, her features as feminine as they are stubborn.

She’s also a royal pain in the ass.”

“I don’t want your damn connections, Sabrina, I want you!”

“You make me crazy, but I trust you. Only you.”

“We lock eyes as we clink glasses, and I realize that I’ve been wrong. I’ve been thinking the hardest part of this whole thing will be faking being in love when I don’t even believe in love.

Now I know better.

The hardest thing is going to be keeping my hands off the only woman I’ve ever wanted.”

“Wordlessly I reach out, take his cup from his hand, and sip that.

Pumpkin spice. Huh. Didn’t see that coming.

“We’re sharing drinks now?” he asks as I hand it back.

“Really?” she grumbled as he crowded her under the stream of warm water. “You won’t sleep with me, but you’ll shower with me?”

“I slept with you. All night.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Go out with me.”

She froze in the process of opening the yogurt. “Be more specific.”

He glugged milk into his bowl. “You. Me. Dinner.”

“Taylor was about to snap at him that she wasn’t digging the silent treatment, but before she could, he reached for her hand, twining her fingers with his.”

Taylor lifted herself on her elbows and gave him a smirk. “Nick Ballantine, are you an ass man?”

“When it comes to you, I’m an everything man.”

“He wanted to be more to her. And that right there was the problem.

The more time he spent with Taylor Carr, the more he wanted all of her. ”

“Nick, meet Twinkie.”

His head snapped up. “Oh, hell no. Twinkie? The pink collar is one thing. Let her have some dignity.”

“Wasn’t my idea,” she said, holding up her hands. “I had another name picked out, but then they told me she was five, and I couldn’t bring myself to change her identity on her.”

“What did you want to call her?” he said, obliging with a belly rub as Twinkie rolled to her back.

“Sprinkles.”

He laughed, his eyes still on the dog. “No. Seriously.”

She scowled at him. “Seriously.”

“I’m not seeing anyone else, Taylor. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. You consume me.”

“Yeah?” She stepped closer, ran a hand over his shirt.

“Yeah.” His mouth dropped to hers for a kiss. He tasted like coffee and promise.

“Taylor,” he said at last, his mouth drifting back and forth over hers softly.

“Mm?” She tried to deepen the kiss, but he pulled back slightly and waited for her to open her eyes.

“Let’s do this for real,” he said. “Girlfriend, boyfriend, whatever.”

“How can you not love Twinkie alrea . . .” And then her mouth fell open because the living room was covered in tufts of white fluff. “What the heck just happened?”

“Your dog just gutted her stuffed animal,” he said, retrieving their wineglasses and handing her one.

“Our dog,” she persisted stubbornly.

He glanced skeptically at the living room, but his eyes were warm, and there was a smile lurking on his lips. “Yeah. Okay, Carr. Our dog.”

“Tired of me already?” she teased.

His eyes drifted down to the lace of her nightgown. “Not even a little bit.”

“You smile more. Laugh louder. Check your phone a million times a day, and talk on it late into the night. Classic signs of being in love.”

“Taylor was opinionated and stubborn and sarcastic as hell, but that was only one side of her. And he liked that side nearly as well as the one that was warm, alluring, and surprisingly young at heart.”

“Being with Taylor made him feel more alive than he’d ever been.

Damn it. His mother was right. He did love Taylor Carr.”

“what’s Nick in your Taylor-is-the-sun scenario?”

“A prism,” Jess said without hesitation. “He takes your light and makes it even more awesome, for everyone to see.”

“Nick matched her in every way, made her better.

And that was real love.”

“Are you listening to me, you ridiculously stubborn jerk? I freaking love you, even though you’re being an ass.”

“I’d still be asking you to be my wife, Taylor Carr, because I want to marry you. Baby or no baby, you’re the love of my life. And you can say no, and I’ll be annoyed, but then you’ll be annoyed too, because I’m not going to stop asking. Not ever.”

“Please let me do this,” he whispered. “I’ve been dreaming about it for weeks.”

“You’re a sap,” she whispered.

But then she was a sap too, because when he slipped the ring onto her fourth finger, she started crying. Again.

He laughed and pulled her in for a hug. “Is this your new thing? Crying all the time?”

“Having second thoughts?” she said.

“Never,” he whispered, brushing his lips against hers. “I love every version of you, even the soggy one.”

“I love every version of you too,” she said. “Even the idiotic one.”

“I knew you were trouble from the very first second, Ms. Carr,” he said, reverently running a finger over her mouth.

“Worth it, though. Right?”

He smiled tenderly. “You are the best thing that ever happened to me. So hell yeah. It was all worth it.”

“She blew out a breath, then took a sip of her drink. “I hate you.”

He smiled, because they both knew she didn’t. ”

“Trust me on this, Carr. Some of the best things in life are the unplanned ones.”

“Like new roommates?” she asked sarcastically.

“Don’t sound so skeptical. Ask yourself this: Whose bar did you walk into tonight?” he said, straightening and giving her a wink. “Then ask yourself why.”

“We should get you an apron.”

“We should not get me an apron,” he said, handing her a glass.”

“You think I want you, and you’re damn right. I want you badly.”

“He dunked a spoon into the sauce and held it out for her to taste.

“I really do hate you,” she muttered, leaning forward to sip the delicious sauce directly from the spoon.

Nick only grinned.”

“she’d taken to entering his room without knocking, oftentimes plopping on his bed and fiddling on her phone until he finished whatever scene he was working on and turned to see what she wanted.”

“In response, she leaned over and kissed his cheek.

Nick gave her a startled look, and then was even more surprised to see Taylor Carr blushing—not an everyday occurrence.”

“She liked him.

Somehow the guy who’d gone from being the one person she couldn’t stand had become the one she most looked forward to seeing each day”

“Before she could chicken out, Taylor crossed to his bed and, uninvited, slipped beneath the covers.

“Really?” he muttered as she cuddled closer, resting her cheek on his chest, her arm curling around his waist.

She braced herself for him to pull away, kick her out. She wouldn’t blame him if he did.

Instead, after a moment of stillness, he moved his hand to the back of her head, and his fingers began idly playing with a strand of her hair.”

“It freed me up to pursue the most interesting woman I’d ever met, but . . .”

“I was with Bradley,” she finished for him.

“So you’re not at the office full-time?”

“Is that disappointment I hear, Ms. Carr?” he asked, rubbing his palm idly along the dark stubble on his jawline.

“Is that ego I hear, Mr. Ballantine?”

“You’ve known me for what, four months? Most of which we’ve spent fighting or avoiding each other? You don’t get to decide who’s the right guy for me.”

“Look me in the eye and tell me you seriously like him.”

“Answer something for me.”

She tried to jerk away, but he held her fast. “What?” she snapped, trying to tell herself that her increasing agitation stemmed from annoyance and not something more dangerous.

“If you weren’t dating him, would you have dinner with me?”

“I don’t like you,” she whispered.

He eased closer until his mouth was inches from her ear. “Liar.”

“You checking me out, Ballantine?” she asked, giving Nick the side-eye.

His smile was slow and wolfish. Sexy, if you liked that sort of thing. Which she didn’t. She wanted predictable. Nick Ballantine didn’t qualify.

“Always,” he said.”

“Before she could dodge, he reached out and gently touched her face as though it were the most natural thing in the world.”

“She shot him a warning look that clearly said, Don’t.

He shot an answering smile that clearly said, Watch me.”

“I’m just saying you could do better,” he answered quietly.

Then he clinked the neck of his beer bottle with hers. “Or at least you could if you weren’t such a bitch.”

Taylor laughed in spite of herself. “I really hate you.”

Nick grinned”

“I mean that I write books,” he said, gathering up the screws. “Futuristic thrillers, mostly.”

She was staring at him, lips parted. “When? How can you be a bartender, a journalist, and an author, and still find all that time to drive me crazy?”

“I’ve never thanked you,” Taylor blurted out, before she could rethink it. “Did I?”

“For?” His eyes were calm. Patient. It made it easier.

“That night,” she whispered.

She didn’t have to explain which night. The night Taylor had found out that her only relative—the only person in her life who really cared for her—had died. The night Taylor had been alone in the Oxford office.

Except not entirely alone. Someone else had been working late that night. Someone had heard her crying.

That someone hadn’t asked a single question. He’d merely gathered Taylor’s shaking body against his much bigger one and held her while she cried. Sobbed. And then he’d listened while she told him all about Karen. About how her aunt had adopted her, and cared for her when nobody else would.

That wasn’t the embarrassing part, though. No, the humiliation that Taylor had barely been able to live with since that night was that somehow he’d discovered the most painful truth of her heart.

That she was terrified nobody loved her.

That she wasn’t worthy.

And Nick Ballantine had gently nudged her head away from his chest, cupped her face in his big hands, and told her—promised her—that someone would love her.”

“He wanted Taylor Carr—but when he finally put his hands on her, he didn’t want it to be about Bradley.

“Kennedy grabbed her hand and pulled her back. His head dipped down to hers, taking her mouth in a sweet, surprising kiss.”

“I missed you,” he whispered against her mouth.

Kate melted into him, kissing him back. I missed you, too.”

“You owe me a rematch.”

“A . . . what?”

“Chess,” he said, pushing the elevator button again with his finger, holding her hand with the other. “I keep a board set up in my living room.”

“Of course you do,” she muttered.

“Come on,” he said, pulling her closer. “Unless you’ve had too many drinks. Worried your skills might be compromised?”

Kate’s eyes narrowed. “I’m mostly sober, but for the record, I could checkmate your ass even if I’d outdrank Lara and Gabby tonight.”

He leaned forward, his eyes gleaming. “Prove it.”

“She looked beautiful. The dress was a shimmering light-bronze color, strapless and fitted up top, full and flowing down to her knees. Her hair was back in a simple knot that suited her small features perfectly, and when her eyes lifted to his just for a moment, Kennedy’s breath caught. Mine. She was his.”

“Well, at the time, I didn’t know you were in love with her.”

Kennedy didn’t bother to deny it. “I didn’t know it, either.”

Sabrina sighed again and scooted closer, resting her head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Kennedy.”

He pecked a brotherly kiss on the top of her head but didn’t say anything.

“For what it’s worth,” she said after a long minute of silence, “I’ve always thought you two were meant for each other.”

“You can’t look me in the eye and tell me these past months have meant nothing to you, that we haven’t come damn far. I’ve seen the way you look at me, Kate, and I know damn well you’ve seen the way I look at you. You can’t tell me you don’t feel what I feel every time our eyes meet, every time we touch. You’re hurting right now, and I get that. You need more time, and I can do that, but you’ve got to give me something, Kate. Tell me to wait, and I’ll wait as long as you need. I’ll wait forever, but don’t end this.”

“Kennedy moved slowly, reaching out and cupping her face, relieved when she didn’t move away. “We’re the good stuff, Kate. No, I didn’t hear angels singing the first moment our eyes met, but that’s got nothing to do with you and everything to do with me. You know me. Things take me a while. I think too much; I’m always up in my head. I may not feel as quickly as you, but I do feel, Kate. You once said you wanted someone who’d fall hard and fast for you, and while I know I let you down on the fast part . . . I did fall, Kate. I’ve fallen all the way.” He swallowed. It was the closest he’d ever come to saying he loved a woman, and he willed her to hear it.”

“You’re mad at me.”

He let out a deep breath. “No, I’m not. I just need time to get over you. You had years to get over me. I think I deserve at least a couple days.”

“Well, you’re not going to get it, because I didn’t.” She stepped closer, and his fingers gripped her wrist tighter.

“You didn’t what?”

“Get over you.”

“Kennedy Edward Dawson. Will you marry me?”

“Get up.” He bent down, trying to lift her, but she wiggled away.

“You have to answer. It’s rude not to.”

“She’d come to his house, told him she was in love with him, and proposed, all without giving him a chance to catch his breath, and he was rude? This time when he reached down, he caught her, hauling her up easily. But by the time he set her back on her feet, all of her bravado was gone.

“Please, Kennedy. You don’t have to marry me. Just give me another chance. Please.” Ring box still clutched in her hand, she reached up and tugged on his shirt, her hands a little shaky. “I love you. I don’t know how I possibly thought I was over you, when you’re all I’ve thought about, all I’ve ever wanted.”

He caught her chin and held her gaze. “I want you all in, Kate Henley. I can’t do this if you’re not.”

She smiled smugly and issued her challenge. “Then make me Kate Dawson.”

Kennedy’s heart soared at the thought. He pulled her closer. “I love you.”

She bit her bottom lip as though trying to hide a smile, then failed completely, because her face erupted in a full grin. “You love me?”

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “A lot.”

“She shrugged and kissed his shoulder, and the casual, sweet gesture of affection made his throat clench with emotion. God. It was official. He was as whipped as Ian and Matt. And he’d never been happier.”

“Kate flung her arms around his neck, kissing him full on the mouth, unabashed they were in the middle of a crowded room. “Thank you,” she said against his lips.

“You already knew it was happening. You’re the worst surprise party recipient ever.”

“I didn’t know about Mom, though. Best surprise ever.”

“You sure about that?”

She laughed and pulled back. “Seriously? You think you can top my mom?”

Kate’s smile froze in confusion as she realized everyone was watching them expectantly.

She frowned. “What am I missing?” Then she saw it and laughed. “Oh my God, an ice sculpture!”

“There’s something inside it. What . . . Oh. Oh my God.”

Her hand went to her mouth as she registered the solitaire diamond ring encased in the middle of the ice. She whirled toward Kennedy, but he was already on his knee, smiling up at her with a cocky, confident smile. Which was probably fair, considering he was already wearing her ring. He hadn’t taken it off since the night she’d given it to him. The guys occasionally gave him crap for having a “guy’s engagement ring,” but he only ever smiled.

“Told you I’d get my proposal my way.” Without looking away, he tilted his head toward the ring in the ice. “Marry me?”

Her heart felt like it was bursting from her chest as she grinned down at the only man she’d ever loved. “Yes. All in.”

Kennedy smiled wider as he stood and wrapped her in a hug that lifted her off her feet. Their friends clapped and cheered around them, but as Kennedy lowered her back to the ground, his word was just for her. “Checkmate.”

She looked up at him. “Really? What did you win?”

“Kennedy, I never thanked you,” she said on a rush. “I’m a little embarrassed, actually. That day when Dad—” She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then opened her eyes to meet his again. “You were there. You went above and beyond, and I appreciate it more than I knew how to say, apparently.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Just like that? You’re not going to give me crap for ignoring you or for not acknowledging it sooner? I treated you horribly, and—”

“You didn’t. I didn’t do it for me, Kate; I did it for you. I wasn’t after thanks or a blue ribbon. I just tried to be what you needed at that time. That’s all it was.”

“Should we be worried about you now?” he asked quietly. He already was, but he also knew Kate was stronger than any person he’d ever met.”

“His chest tightened with hurt for her, frustration for himself. But she came first, always. He reached across the table for her hand, the ache in his chest easing slightly at the way her fingers folded instinctively around his.

“Do you trust me?” he asked quietly.

She hesitated only a moment, then nodded.

Hope soared. “Good. I’ll pick you up at eleven tomorrow.”

“You didn’t have to come all of the way south just to pick me up. What a waste of—”

“Kate?”

“What?”

“Be quiet.” He smiled a little as he said it, still not looking at her.”

“Mmmmm.” Her eyes closed, delighted to be right about the flavor.

When she opened them, Kennedy was frozen in place, giving her the same look as he had last night when she was eating the scallops. Knowing she was playing with fire, Kate couldn’t help herself from extending the cookie toward him, surprised, and yet not surprised, when after only a brief hesitation, he leaned down and nipped a bite of cookie directly from her fingers.

Their eyes locked for a second before she forced a bright smile. “Amazing, right?”

“A little sweet,” he said, chewing, as he finished unpacking the last of the food and paper plates.

Kennedy settled on the blanket beside her, lying on one side, as he reached for the rosé thermos. He looked . . . different. This was relaxed Kennedy. Picnic Kennedy.”

“He eased closer but didn’t touch her, his eyes intense on hers. “I don’t know what the hell that idiotic version of me was thinking. But I do know what the version of me now is thinking. Has been thinking for weeks.”

Kate swallowed nervously. “What’s that?”

His hand lifted as though to touch her face, then dropped again, his fist clenching. “That I can’t stop thinking about you. About putting my hands on you. About how we can’t seem to get our damn timing right, because you’re telling me that night on the yacht was the end of something, when for me, it felt like just the beginning.”

“you should know—you must know—you are the most irresistible woman I’ve ever known.” His hand tentatively touched her cheek.”

“He was the type of person who took care of other people. Who cared for his own. So yeah, she trusted him. Which was why Kate gave in to an urge she’d been trying to stifle for years. She leaned forward and kissed Kennedy Dawson.”

“Kennedy now realized that he’d do anything just to be near her. Even if it meant making out in Central Park. Especially then.”

“he felt drunk on the moment. Drunk on her.”

“Hmm.” His eyes were already drifting closed. “I’ll have to try them sometime.”

“Will you?”

His eyes opened. “Hmm?”

Kate swallowed. “It’s just that you sounded sort of certain that you’d be trying my sheets, and I was sort of thinking this was a onetime thing.”

He smiled and kissed her forehead. “Go to sleep, Kate.”

“Kennedy shrugged. It sounded irrational now that it was out there, but there was no more dodging the fact that he cared about Kate. Had maybe cared about Kate for a very long time and was terrified about what that meant.”

“He looked back at her hand, finally registering the card it was holding. His gaze darkened slightly, and she knew he knew who it was from. Kennedy’s fingers moved, as though to release her, then they lingered, the pad of his thumb resting against the delicate skin of her inner wrist. Her breath caught, and she watched his face for any sign that he registered her pulse was moving far too fast.”

“When he’d first walked in and seen her, he thought he could manage the evening without staring. Maybe. But when she’d turned around and he’d seen the back, he was a goner. ”

“don’t pretend not to know what I mean. You like her.”

“Of course I like her.”

“You know what I mean. You want her. Nothing to do with friendship. Or work.” Jack stated it as a fact.”

“Would you just give me a goddamn minute?” he growled behind her. “This is new to me. I’m trying to think—”

She whipped around to face him. “That’s your problem, Kennedy,” she snapped, trying to shove his big hand away from the door so she could get out. “You’re all thought, no action—”

She gasped as Kennedy reached out, his fingers tangling roughly in her hair, tugging back so her face tilted up to his. Then his mouth took hers.”

“That you’re mine,” he said quietly, reaching out and gently touching a knuckle to the corner of her mouth. “They know that you’re mine now.”

“The door opened, and Kennedy started to close his eyes in relief, only to freeze when he saw her face, red and streaked with tears.

“Kate. What’s—”

Acting on unfamiliar instinct, Kennedy stopped talking, sensing that words weren’t what she needed. He stepped into her apartment, shutting the door with one hand and reaching for her with the other. She came easily, her face pressed to his chest, her arms wrapping around his waist as she let out a sob. His throat knotted as he slid one hand to the back of her head, the other wrapping around her, trying to absorb her shaking. For long moments he just held her, absorbing her pain as best he could, even as he bit back demands to know what was wrong so he could fix it.

“Sorry,” she said around a hiccup. “I keep thinking I’m all out of tears, but they just keep coming.”

He bent his head lower, his lips brushing the side of her head. “What’s wrong? What can I do?”

“Nothing,” she whispered. “Just hold me a little bit longer.” He did.”

“Kate.”

She looked up. “What?”

“Do you want to go to the ballet with me tonight or not?”

She chewed her lip. She did. She really did”

“I’ll try to entertain myself.”

She nodded, then pointed her champagne flute at him. “Don’t you dare eat my anal beads.”

He let out a laugh—a loud, spontaneous, honest-to-God laugh. The sort of laugh that was so real, so rare, it’d have nearly been her undoing.”

“Get your coat.”

Kate blinked. “What?”

He straightened. “Your jacket.”

“I don’t have one.”

He frowned. “It’s March, not August.”

“No, really? I had no idea. Is there a way to know such things?”

“Shut up. Come on.”

“He didn’t reply, instead leading her toward the southwest side to a covered area with . . .

Kate gasped at the beautiful sight of chessboards set up in the middle of the city. “How did I not know this was here?”

Kennedy led her to a small table. “Want to play?”

“Hell yes!” she said, grinning as he went to rent pieces and a board.

A few moments later, they were sitting across the table from each other, and Kate realized there was something better than a chess oasis in the middle of Manhattan. Kennedy Dawson’s full smile. Both dimples.”

“As it would turn out, Kennedy apparently preferred playing chess outside on a slightly too-cold evening, on a wobbly table in a public park, with slightly sticky pieces, including a knight whose head had been lopped off, sitting across the board from . . .Kate Henley. Kennedy sat back in his chair and rubbed a hand idly over his jaw as he watched his playing partner. Kate took her time deliberating each move, but he didn’t mind. He kept himself occupied by studying her as she studied the board.”

“He stood and shrugged out of his suit jacket just as she moved her knight. She blinked in surprise as he came around to her side of the table and unceremoniously put his jacket around her shoulders, careful not to let his fingers brush against the bare skin there.”

“I know I drive you crazy.”

“Well, that’s true,” he admitted.

She laughed at that—a genuine, unfiltered laugh—and Kennedy found himself smiling back.”

“How was the gelato?”

“Good,” she answered cautiously as she accepted the container he handed her and sat down.

“Pistachio?”

She looked up. “How’d you know I like pistachio?”

“Just because you know when my birthday is and that I like pistachio doesn’t mean you know me.”

He sat forward, his face strangely urgent. “I know you like the ballet over the opera. I know you’re wickedly, dangerously sneaky at chess. Yes, those are recently learned details, but I’ve known for a hell of a long time that you’re the most astute person I’ve ever met, that you never miss a single detail, and that you wouldn’t be nervous without good reason. So spit it out.”

“Are you calling me a control freak?”

She grinned. “Pretty much.”

He smiled back. “You’re not much better in that department.”

“that had been before. Before she’d started dating his brother. Before he’d started thinking about her kissing his brother. Before he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her, period.”

“He’d figured he hadn’t been the only one who thought just a little too often about Kate’s wide brown eyes or been strangely beguiled by her effortless competence.”