The Trouble With Love (14 page)

But then she started thinking about where they might be headed now, and was anything but relieved. Would he take the woman back to his place?

Would he go to hers for a “nightcap”?

Would they . . .

“The hamburger is amazing here.”

Emma jumped and spun around to see Cassidy standing behind her. He was wearing a dark suit, minus the tie, and his white shirt was unbuttoned just enough so she could see the hollow of his throat. Her gaze lingered at that spot for way too long, remembering what it had tasted like.

“The hamburger?” she repeated dumbly. Where was his date?

“With cheese. And fries, of course. Trust me, it’s worth every fat gram.”

Emma nodded, her eyes scanning behind him for Miss Big Green Eyes.

“She went home,” Cassidy said. He nodded his chin in the direction of the open bar stool next to her. Lifted an eyebrow.

Emma wordlessly moved her purse, reaching below to find a hook under the bar, even as she wondered what the hell she was doing. This was supposed to be dining-solo time, not dining-with-the-ex time.

And yet, when he shrugged out of his suit jacket, hanging it on the hook on the wall beside them before sitting down next to her, it felt . . . right.

And then something even stranger happened. Emma watched as Alex unbuttoned the sleeves of his dress shirt, rolling them just below his elbows so they exposed his lean, hair-covered forearms. It was as though she could see the tension slowly fade from his body.

She actually
watched
as Alex Cassidy relaxed beside her.

As though, here, sitting on this bar stool next to her was where he could be most himself.

Even more alarming was that she felt the same. As though after a long week,
this
was what she needed.

She shook the feeling off.

“Bad first date?” she asked.

“Nah,” he said, reaching for her wine and taking a sip. “Just . . . not quite right, you know?”

She nodded.

“How about yours?” he asked.

“How about my what?”

He glanced at her. The eyes were pure aqua today. “Your date last night.”

She frowned. “I didn’t go on a date last night.”

He shifted on his stool to look at her. “With Cole. Cole Sharpe. You guys went to Babbo?”

Emma shook her head. “I like Cole well enough, but we’ve never been on a date. He’s never even asked.”

To her surprise, Cassidy let out a bark of laughter, running a hand over his face. “Those dicks.” He lifted a hand to catch the bartender’s attention. “I need a drink. And food. You hungry?”

“Yeah, but didn’t you just eat with, um . . .” Emma waved her hand in the direction where Cassidy and his date had been sitting.

“Alisha. And no, we just grabbed a drink. I don’t tend to do dinner on the first date. Too much of a commitment until you know whether you click.”

Emma made a spinning motion with her finger. “Want to replay that in your head? See if you realize how douchey it sounds, second time around?”

“Hey, Jana,” Cassidy said to the bartender, ignoring Emma. “How about a glass of whatever I was having earlier. It was great.”

“Coming right up,” Jana said with a smile. She didn’t have to be told where Cassidy had been sitting earlier, nor his drink order. Women remembered men like Cassidy.

“You’re telling me you never go to dinner on the first date?” Emma said, not yet ready to drop the topic. Sometimes the glimpse into the male brain was fascinating. Fascinating and appalling.

“Well, I used to,” he said. “In my twenties, when I thought I had all the time in the world to wine and dine all the women in the world. But now? A free weekend night is rare. A great first date is even more rare. The chances of them overlapping? Slim to none. Why risk it?”

Emma shook her head. “Why go out with this Alisha in the first place if she didn’t warrant dinner?”

“I didn’t know she didn’t warrant dinner, because I hadn’t met her,” Cassidy said distractedly as he snatched up her food menu. “It was a setup.”

“By whom?”

“Guys at the office. She was on Lincoln Mathis’s to-do list, but he finally gave me first shot.”

Emma fanned herself. “Wish I could get a spot on Lincoln Mathis’s to-do list.”

Cassidy gave her a dark look.

“What? Your star reporter is
hot
.”

Cassidy smiled his thanks at Jana for the wine. He started to take a drink, but then held up his glass.

She lifted hers in response. “What are we cheering to?”

Cassidy paused. “To being able to sit here with someone who I don’t have to impress.”

Emma laughed in surprise, but clinked his glass anyway. “Seriously?”

“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?”

Emma thought about this as she sipped her wine. “I don’t know that that’s true. There are worse places we could sink, right? Say from indifference to all-out hate?”

Something flashed on his face, and he picked up the menu again instead of meeting her eyes, as though trying to hide something.

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?

Instead, she forced a slow smile. “Well, if you keep running your mouth about our past to our friends, I could probably muster some hate.”

He grinned, and the moment was gone. “Hey, you started it. If it were up to me, we’d never talk about it.”

“Not even to each other?” she asked curiously.

“Do
you
want to talk about it?”

Emma sipped her wine. Contemplated. “I think I’d rather have that cheeseburger you mentioned.”

“Good girl.” Cassidy slapped the menu down on the bar, and Emma was oddly charmed by the almost boyish look on his face.

“So if this is a first date, but not a dinner-worthy date . . . why the heck are you wearing a suit?” she asked.

He glanced down. “I don’t know. Habit? Does it not work? Bad move? I skipped the tie.”

“It works,” she said somewhat begrudgingly. “It’s just an odd choice for someone who’s so gun-shy of first dates he won’t even take the woman to dinner.”

“You’re really hung up on that, huh?” he asked.

She shrugged. Sipped her wine.

“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?”

“None,” she snapped. “Because I’m not that girl anymore.”

“Which girl?” he pressed. “The one whose shared debutante ball with her twin was so elaborate that it rivaled most women’s weddings?”

“You weren’t even there for the debutante ball. It was before your time.”
And you weren’t there for the wedding, either.

“I saw the pictures,” he said. “I got the idea.”

“Hey,” she said, voice testy. “Just because my parents were determined to turn Daisy and me into little princesses doesn’t mean that I have to stay that way.”

She felt him studying her profile. “But Daisy did.”

“Yeah. Daisy did. Does,” Emma corrected. “Even after the divorce she’s still all pretty manners and
bless your heart.
”

Cassidy smiled and Emma’s heart twisted. “Guess my dad had the right idea all along when he tried to set you guys up.”

His smile dropped. “Emma—”

“Don’t, Cassidy. Don’t tell me you didn’t want to date my sister.”

He swore softly, dipping his head. “When I was twenty years old and didn’t even
know
you. And once I did—”

“It doesn’t matter. You got what you wanted. A job with my father. And a blissfully ignorant girlfriend—no,
fiancée
—who had no idea that you had asked her out just to get a job.”

He pointed a finger. “Asked you out, yes.
Proposed,
no. That was all me.”

“Was it?” she asked, taking a healthy sip of wine. “Or was it because my father had no intention of handing over his company to someone who wasn’t
family
?”

Cassidy swore softly and dropped his chin.

“Emma—”

“Don’t,” she said softly. “Please don’t.”

Then she lifted her hand to wave at Jana, who glanced at them, grabbed two bottles of wine, and made her way toward them. “Refill?” she asked, holding up the red for Cassidy and white for Emma.

“Yes, please,” Emma and Cassidy said at the exact same time.

“And two burgers would be great,” Emma added, handing Jana their menus.

Cassidy glanced at her. “You’re staying for dinner?”

She understood what he was really asking:
You’re staying for dinner with
me
?

She lifted an eyebrow. “Are you?”

In response he turned to the bartender. “Can we get Gruyère on those burgers?”

When Jana had refilled their wine glasses and gone to punch in their orders, Cassidy steered their conversation toward safer topics, and Emma let him.

No,
welcomed
it.

She supposed at some point, she and Cassidy would need to finish that conversation they’d started on the night of their rehearsal dinner. She wasn’t sure what else could be said, but she did know they owed it to each other to have that talk without all the temper and devastation that had choked them that night.

But for now . . . now she was content to share a meal with someone who was . . . well, not a friend, exactly. But spending a casual Saturday night with him felt strangely right.

“Do you ever think about going back?” he asked. “To Charlotte?”

Emma thought about this. “I’ll never say never. And Dad’s there. And, of course, Daisy. But . . . I think New York is my home now. Which is strange, because I always figured Manhattan was an itch I’d grow out of in my twenties, but—”

“It gets into your blood,” Alex said.

“Yes,” Emma replied. “That’s exactly right. What about you? You ever think about going back?”

He lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know where I’d go back to. My parents don’t live in Boston anymore, so nothing for me there. They bought a place in Florida. North Carolina was only home because of college and then because—”

“Because that’s where my father’s company is,” she finished for him.

His eyes flashed, and she knew he wanted to argue, but apparently he thought better of it, because he merely nodded. “Right, and once I sent in my letter of resignation there, I was in San Francisco, but that never felt right either. . . .”

“And New York? Does that feel right?” she asked, taking a sip of water.

He was quiet for a few moments. “I’m still trying to figure that out.”

To her surprise, Emma felt a strange pang at the thought that New York wasn’t home to Cassidy the way it was to her.

Felt a strange sense of . . .
something
. . . at the thought of him leaving the city. It would make her life simpler to be sure, but she realized then how much her and Cassidy’s cold war had become a part of her life here.

“Did your
Oxford
team really tell you I went on a date with Cole?” she asked.

Cassidy snorted. “If you knew them like I did, you wouldn’t be the least bit surprised.”

“But why’d they do it? I mean . . . why lie?”

He swirled his wine. “Because they wanted to coax me into asking out Alisha. They thought if I knew you were going on a date with Cole, I’d take action.”

“Did it work?”

He glanced at her. “Hell, yes, it worked.”

The admission surprised her. She and Cassidy had been seeing other people for years. As far as she could tell, her love life had never had an impact on his, and vice versa.

She wanted to ask what had changed, but couldn’t bring herself to form the question. Wasn’t entirely sure she wanted—or was ready for—the answer.

“You’re not asking why,” he said with a wry smile.

“Noticed that, did you?”

“Date whomever you want, Emma. Just not one of my employees. Especially not Cole. Or Lincoln. Or—”

She bristled a little at the rough command. “You don’t get to decide who I fall in love with.”

“Fair enough,” he said quietly.

They both fell silent as Jana placed burgers in front of them, and
oh holy heck
had Cassidy been right about this place having one hell of a hamburger.

The fries were hot and perfectly salty, the burger was juicy and messy and decadent. Emma felt juice run down her chin and only halfheartedly swiped at it with her napkin because she was too busy taking the next bite.

“Good, huh?” he said with a knowing smile.

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

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

She picked up a fry and bit into it as she met his eyes, alarmed by the response that popped into her head but that she didn’t dare say.

That this night was perfect
because
of the company.

Chapter 15

In Emma’s rather substantial list of ex-boyfriends, there were only two that she was dreading talking to about their past.

One was her very sexy neighbor/temporary boss/former fiancé.

She hadn’t even let herself
think
about what it would be like when it came time to interview Cassidy. She’d deal with that when she was ready. Which might be never.

And the other . . . the other was Joel Lambert.

They’d met when she was twenty-six, and dated for two years, making him her longest relationship since Cassidy.

Joel was an absolutely vital part of Emma’s “ex” picture.

She also suspected he was going to be one ex who didn’t exactly have good things to say about her.

Emma and Joel had met at the most clichéd of New York meet-cute spots: an art gallery opening. Emma’s pre-
Stiletto
employer had gotten a handful of employees the exclusive tickets after they’d won a prestigious journalism award, and Joel’s sister had been friends with the artist.