Love the One You're With (15 page)

A week later it was on one of the morning talk shows.
Is all fair in love and war? Manhattan's sexiest dating experts find out
.

Now
everybody
had something to say about who had the upper hand on whom.

The results changed daily.

The past three weeks had been an endless blur of employees on both sides conspiring to get Jake and Grace into the same elevator at the same time.

From there, every word was observed. Every look was analyzed.

And it all went up on the website.

Even the bosses were in on it. For their part, Cassidy and Camille were constantly insisting that Jake and Grace take lunch breaks together, and then they'd send a staff photographer to catch the whole thing in action.

Most recently, it had been an unassuming lunch at a taco truck that had sent the cyberworld into a tizzy. Whatever did it mean that Grace gave her extra guacamole to Jake? Was that a point in his favor since he was able to sweet-talk her out of the best part of a taco? Or a point in
her
favor, because a smart woman knew that the way to a man's heart was through his stomach?

Camille had even asked if the two of them had any email correspondence that they'd be able to share on the website. In the end, Grace and Jake had capitulated. Now all of their electronic communication went up there too.

For her part, Grace was mostly loving the whole process. At least she was loving it
today
.

That morning's latest poll results indicated that 64 percent of voters thought Jake was more smitten with her than she with him, and 59 percent thought that she knew men better than he knew women.

Even though they hadn't yet completed the original assignment of five dates followed by a recap, Grace was well on her way to accomplishing her mission: showing the world that she wasn't ever going to be blindsided by a man again.

In weaker moments, when she forgot that Greg wasn't dead to her, she liked to imagine her ex reading it. Maybe even regretting that he'd let her go.

But in the quiet evenings, when the website updates had ceased for the day and there were no more interactions between her and Jake to be analyzed until the following day, she felt … a little hollow.

She and Jake hadn't been alone—not
truly
alone—since that night in the cab.

The sexual awareness still simmered between them, but ever since their text message exchange that night, there'd been a slight wariness as well. As though it was a path that neither wanted to go down even as they desperately did.

See,
this
was why relationships were bad news. They turned rational adults into game-playing teens.

And that was the real kicker. She wanted him. She liked him, even. But she didn't trust him.

Ever since that first date when she'd have bet her favorite pair of Jimmy Choos that he was honestly into her, and then he'd told the world that it had been a carefully manufactured “moment” designed to reel her in, she'd known she couldn't trust him.

She
knew
that.

And yet, every damned night, she was tempted to call him.

Of course, 2.0 was pissed, but 2.0 apparently had forgotten what a good kisser Jake was.

Grace hadn't forgotten. Not even a little bit.

And wouldn't the HeSaidSheSaid readers like to find out
that
little tidbit!

This entire thing had devolved into a circus in which they didn't even have to worry about analyzing the other person, because the rest of the world was doing the analysis for them.

Grace kept reminding herself that she should be thrilled. Camille had made a big show in the weekly staff meeting about how it was the most groundbreaking
Stiletto
undertaking since

“Of course your stylist is in on it. This is like the new reality TV,” Emma said.

“Jake's not going to notice that I got a half-inch trim. None of
you
noticed.”

“You have to at least show up,” Riley called after her. “Women are in the lead!”

“Whatever,” Grace muttered, walking right past the restroom. She needed to get out of here. And thanks to her friends' intel, she knew exactly where she
wouldn't
be going. No Lucky's burger for her.

She paused as she headed toward the elevator. Too bad Riley hadn't been more specific about the time of Jake's lunch break. Did she risk taking the elevator and running into one of the
Oxford
guys who would push her toward Lucky's to accomplish whatever obscure mating challenge they'd dreamed up for the day?

Or …

Before she could change her mind, Grace slipped into the stairwell. Not a place she'd spent a lot of time in, outside of fire drills and the rare power outage, but if walking down seven flights of stairs meant a few minutes of peace and quiet and the potential to eat lunch without having everyone critique every blink and smile, she'd take it.

Her four-inch heels made it slow going, and she'd only made it down one flight before the door flew open, nearly knocking her over.

“Shit, sorry—I didn't think anyone would be in here … Grace?”

Jake gave a nervous glance over his shoulder and shut the door quickly, leaving them secluded in the silent stairwell. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

“Oh, you know—just getting a little midday exercise.”

“By walking
down
? I don't think so.”

She crossed her arms, defensive. “What are
you
doing here?”

His eyes flashed guiltily, and he pulled on his earlobe.

“You're avoiding me,” she said, her eyes going wide.

“No! No. I mean yes, but not avoiding
you
, just avoiding …”

Grace gave a relieved laugh. “Everything? Everyone? Me too. I thought you were going to Lucky's.”

“Yeah, you were
supposed
to think that. What do you want to bet half the
Oxford
and
Stiletto
offices got a sudden craving for hamburgers today?”

“So you set up a decoy plan. Well done, Mr. Malone.” They began descending the stairs,
Jake offering his arm so she didn't wobble on her heels. She took it, surprised that it felt like the most natural thing in the world to be holding on to Jake Malone in the stairwell while they hid from the world.

“I admit, I was thinking you'd probably be the first one to Lucky's,” he said, glancing down at her as they made it to the fifth floor. “Most of the guys spent all morning trying to figure out what the next female wile was.”

“My hair,” Grace said, flicking her ponytail. “You're not supposed to notice that it's a half inch shorter. Or maybe you
are
supposed to notice? I can't keep it all straight.”

“Well, chalk this one up to the voters with boobs, because there's no way in hell I would have noticed your haircut.”

“What about me?” she asked. “What was my challenge for the day?”

“Sports. I was going to mention being a huge fan of a fictitious sports team to see whether you'd fake interest, or if you'd 'fess up and say that you'd never heard of such a team.”

“Kind of a risky plan, don't you think?” She lowered her voice to a mock whisper. “What if one of them had found out you don't like the Yankees?”

“You wouldn't have told them,” he said confidently.

“I might have.”

“Nope.”

She narrowed her eyes. “How do you figure?”

“Because that little bit of information is something I told only you. And you want to keep it that way.”

Grace opened her mouth to dispute him. She couldn't. “You know, I don't know who planted the seed in your head that this whole
cocky
routine was charming, but they did you a disservice.”

“I planted that seed in my own head. But confess now, Gracie. If the boys had come to you with a fake sports team, would you have admitted you had no idea who they were? Or pretended you were a fellow fan?”

Grace pursed her lips as they made it to the second floor. “Probably confessed because I wouldn't want to get caught in the lie later. But I don't know. Maybe I would have faked that I knew what you were talking about. I hate feeling dumb, especially around you.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. I used to think I was pretty comfortable with myself, but
this whole thing has made me second-guess every action when I'm with you.”

“Even now?” she asked as they made it to the lobby floor and stopped.

“No.” His eyes searched hers. “Not now. This deeply romantic slow trot down the smelly office stairwell has been one of the best moments I've had in weeks.”

She scanned his face. He wasn't lying. She was pretty sure of it.

“Me too,” she said quietly, reaching for the door handle so she wouldn't have to look at him. She was too afraid about what might be written on her face.

His fingers gently touched the back of her hand and they both froze. She forced herself to meet his eyes, and she saw the same wretched torture on his face that had caused so many sleepless nights for her.

They were
so
in over their heads.

Unlike their previous two kisses, Jake moved slowly, one hand moving gently to her hip as the other slid behind her neck, tilting her face up to his. The kiss was sweet and teasing, the type of perfect kiss where the other person's mouth feels meant for yours, their taste the best thing you can imagine.

Grace let her arms wind around his neck as she tilted her head and took the kiss deeper. Jake groaned and walked her back a step until she was pinned between him and the wall. She didn't know how the kiss went from painfully sweet to painfully
hot
, but before she knew what had happened, her hands were pinned above her head, their lips and tongues fighting for dominance in a battle far more private—and far more vital—than the one they waged for the rest of the world to see.

When Jake finally lifted his head, he looked every bit as bewildered as she felt.

Just what the hell was going on here?

But exactly as it had before, the mask fell back into place, disguising any vulnerabilities, and Grace pushed aside the ridiculous urge to beg him to take a chance on her. On
them
.

Jake grinned then, looking very much like the confident, carefree guy she remembered from that fateful first cab ride. “So … where are we going to lunch?”

“You know, I get that we're trying to escape prying eyes, but fleeing
Manhattan
might have been a wee bit excessive,” Grace said.

“Probably. But you said you were hungry, and Brooklyn has some of the best food in the city.”

“No argument there,” Grace said as she took another bite of her steak salad. “How'd you find this place?”

“Dated a girl a few years ago who lived around the corner. She got kind of crazy, but the food stayed good.”

“Exactly how many girlfriends have you had? Or do I want to know?”

Jake dunked a fry in ketchup and considered. “I've never really understood at what point a woman stops becoming someone you're casually dating and actually becomes a girlfriend.”

Grace put an offended hand over her chest. “Clearly you haven't been reading
Stiletto
. This is exactly the sort of thing we analyze. In detail.”

“No doubt. But to answer your question … I dunno. Maybe one true girlfriend? Lasted about four months?”

Grace grinned and stole a fry. “Seems to me that was my precise assessment of you that first day in the cab.”

“Weird. I wonder if there's a trophy shop around here so we can get you a little memento to savor your lone victory.”

She just grinned at him before grabbing another fry.

“What about you?” he asked. “Nothing serious before or after the cheating douche bag, right?”

“Well, it's only been four months. Long enough to move on, but not long enough to get back in the saddle. Not that I want to. And before Greg, there were a couple dance dates and kisses in high school, but Greg … he was the one, you know?”

“Obviously not.”

“Obviously,” Grace muttered.

He was watching her. “Do you miss him?”

Grace chewed thoughtfully. Did she miss Greg? “I miss … someone,” she said finally. “I know this probably sounds like I'm single-handedly rolling back the women's movement, but I liked taking care of someone, you know? Being that other half?”

“Would you take him back if he asked?”

She hated this question. Didn't even ask it of herself. She wanted to say no. Grace 2.0 pretty much demanded that she tattoo
no
on her bicep. But the other part of her … the romantic part of her wondered about forgiveness.

Couples
did
come back from infidelity. People did forgive.

She just didn't know if she was one of them.

And then there was the even more alarming fact that she was thinking about Greg less and less lately. The fact that she was no longer even remotely sure that he'd been the love of her life.

“Can I pass on that one?” she said.

Jake's jaw tightened briefly, and she thought she was about to get the lecture on how Greg was garbage.

Instead he gave her a half smile. “Sure.”

Grace thought about protesting when Jake ordered a chocolate torte for them to split, but whom was she kidding? She had a weakness for dessert.

A weakness for dessert?
2.0 taunted.
Or a weakness for Jake?

If she was honest, this lunch was the best time she'd had in a long while. She and Jake had all of the easy comfort that she and Greg had once had, but unlike in conversations with Greg, she never found herself tuning out when Jake spoke.

She tried to tell herself it was probably just a function of Jake being
new
. Maybe she and Greg had simply reached that level of familiarity where it was okay to tune out the other person once in a while.