#emmasinclair

“Emma was the newest member of the Love and Relationships group and had done a damn fine job of hiding the fact that she’d once been engaged to the very luscious, very sexy editor in chief of Stiletto’s brother magazine.”

“And then . . .

And then there was Emma.

Emma, whose every feature he knew by heart, even without glancing at her.”

“A girl who could take his breath away with little more than a smile.”

“The worst part wasn’t even that Cassidy’s fingers were casually linked with those of a pretty, shy-looking brunette.

No, the worst part was the brief pang of something Emma had long thought dead.

Jealousy.”

“His eyes narrowed on Emma and caught her placid smile, and maybe the slightest gleam in her brown eyes.

No. No. No fucking way. He knew that look. Trouble.”

“But then, perhaps she shouldn’t be surprised that she hadn’t recognized him.

Back then, she’d had eyes for only one guy.”

“You owe me a meeting,” she said finally.

“Do I?”

“Yes,” she said, sweeping past him and entering his apartment as though she owned the place.”

“A mandated story topic via email? Really?”

“Gosh, I can’t imagine why I wouldn’t have jumped at the chance to have this friendly chat in person,”

“But even as he longed to shake her—to tell her to get mad or frustrated or sad about anything—he couldn’t do so without being entirely hypocritical.

Because, strangely enough, he suspected that he and Emma understood each other better than anyone else”

“Emma had been his place of calm. The one who’d centered him.”

“And his eyes . . .

His eyes met hers over Sam’s shoulder. And held.

And something shifted.”

“Cassidy came up behind her.

She knew it was him by his smell. ”

“But she had never been able to forget the way Alex Cassidy smelled.”

“I smile. Don’t I?”

He hedged. “Eh, right now you’re not.”

“Well, of course not, it’s you,” she said with a huff picking up her glass.

And for some reason that made him smile.

He’d take grumpy Emma over fake-smiley Emma.”

“Well, see, that’s what I like about us, Emma. We ignore each other when we want to ignore each other. Which is most of the time. But when we are in each other’s orbit, there’s something almost soothing about hanging out with someone who’s already indifferent to you. Can’t really mess anything up, you know?”

“Then he seemed to change his mind, and glanced at her anyway. “Sometimes I think I’d prefer you hate me. At least then you’d notice me.”

Everything inside Emma seemed to freeze. I notice you—too much. Do you notice me?

“Emma.” His voice was cajoling.

She ignored him, and he turned around to face her, his smile teasing but not mean. “Emma, honey, is that a little bit of your old southern I see peeping out?”

Emma pursed her lips, and he laughed softly. “It is! Tell me, how many people know that beneath the Manhattan ice princess lies a southern debutante?”

“She could only shake her head. “Best Saturday night meal ever.”

He looked at her in surprise. “Even with the company?”

That this night was perfect because of the company.”

“He was almost starting to enjoy this game they played. A few months ago, the ignoring of each other had been complete and genuine. But watching her ignore him now, even though they’d shared a hamburger and wine last weekend, gave him a strange sense of intimacy. As though the two of them held a secret.”

“You’re so annoying,” she muttered, even though he hadn’t said a word.

He lifted his eyebrows and stepped inside her apartment. “Is that any way to talk to the guy who brought you wine?”

“I have plenty of my own wine.”

“Yes, but this is better,”

“I tagged along to protect you,” Cassidy said.

“Please,” Emma said, giving him a look. “You were there for the entertainment.”

“I remember everything.” His voice was low. Raspy. Intimate.

Emma closed her eyes, even though he wasn’t looking at her.

“I remember every damned thing,” he continued, gaze still straight ahead. “I remember how I thought you were so shy up until our first date when I realized you had a bawdy, brash sense of humor. I still remember the jolt I got when you first touched my hand. I remember our first kiss, our first fight.” He took a deep breath. “I remember our last kiss, our last fight.”

“Cassidy.” Her voice was a whisper.

He grinned then. She saw it out of the corner of her eye. “I love that you’ve only ever called me Cassidy.”

She shrugged. “It was all anyone called you back then.”

“Which made sense when everyone knew me best by what was written on my jersey. But you’ve kept it up even with my soccer days long behind me. And you’ve got everyone else doing it, too. Nobody ever calls me Alex.”

“Emma pressed her lips together, not wanting to admit that part of the reason she held on to the old name was because she was trying to hold on to the old memories, in some tiny, harmless way.”

“He turned to face her, his familiar features shadowed. “Ask me what else I remember.”

She started to turn away, but his hand touched her arm.

“Ask me,” he commanded.

Emma shook her head, feeling both terrified and the most alive she’d felt in years.