The Trouble With Love(13)

Riley stepped forward and tapped Emma’s temple gently. “Guys, I think the floodwater went into her brain. She’s going soft on us.”

“So that’s a yes on money, then?” Julie asked. “We can lend you some?”

“No,” Emma said, her voice kind but emphatic. “I’m fine on money. Really.”

It was true. Her Stiletto salary was decent, if not exactly luxurious, and, if necessary, she had another source. A trust fund even her best friends didn’t know about. A trust fund Emma hated because her mother had had to die in order for Emma to have access to it.

But then…Emma let herself smile, because the whole situation was almost fitting, in a way. Her ever perfectly coiffed mother would be absolutely delighted to know that her legacy had gone toward a new wardrobe. In fact, if Annabeth Sinclair were here right now, she’d insist on dragging Emma to the makeup counter, and probably the hair salon.

A woman can never have too many lipsticks, girls.

Emma smiled at the memory.

“Hey, let’s stop by the cosmetics department at Bloomingdale’s,” Emma said as she followed them into the hallway. “I think I’m in a beauty rut.”

“Traitor,” Riley hissed.

Emma dropped her keys in her purse and ran straight into Grace’s back.

All three of her friends had skidded to a halt in the hallway, and Emma peered around them to see why.

She promptly felt her stomach drop to the floor.

Suddenly, Camille’s smirk on that day she’d offered Emma the apartment made a lot more sense.

This wasn’t about setting Emma up with Benedict. The blind date had merely been a red herring.

The real agenda was right in front of her.

In the form of Emma’s ex-fiancé. Who was with a woman.

“What are you doing here, Cassidy?” Julie asked, her voice half-horrified, half-amused.

Cassidy’s eyes locked on Emma’s for a half second, and she somehow knew the answer before he spoke.

“I live here,” he said, pointing to the door next to Camille’s. “I moved in last month. Camille never mentioned it? She was the one who connected me with the previous owner.”

“No,” Grace said, pressing her lips together in delight. “No, she did not.”

Emma barely heard any of this. Her brain was repeating one thought over and over: Alex Cassidy is going to be my neighbor for three months.

This was not good news.

At all.

But, incredibly, that wasn’t the worst of it.

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.





Chapter 5


Of all the scenarios in which Alex had imagined his current woman meeting his past woman, this one was definitely not on the list.

In fact, in most of his scenarios, the encounter hadn’t happened at all.

Not because Alex hadn’t wanted Emma to see him with someone new. He hadn’t minded that part. And Emma had made it plenty clear that she didn’t care one way or another if he was single, married, or dead.

But in some foolish, sentimental part of his brain, Alex hadn’t wanted to see the two women together, side by side. Didn’t want to risk letting his mind make comparisons that he wasn’t ready for. Might not ever be ready for.

And, yet, here they were. Him. His new girlfriend. His girlfriend from almost a decade ago.

And three mischievous-looking Stiletto columnists.

“You ladies stop by to say good-bye to Camille?” Alex asked, careful not to repeat his earlier mistake of letting his eyes stray to Emma’s. Whenever he slipped up and made eye contact, it was always like a jolt to his system. An unwelcome and unpleasant one.

The women exchanged glances, and Alex got the distinct impression he was missing something.

To his surprise, it was Emma who spoke up. “Camille lent me her place while she’s in Australia.”

Alex gave the slightest start, and from the puzzled look his girlfriend, Danielle, gave him, she’d definitely felt it.

“What do you mean, lent you her place?”

Emma shrugged. “My place had a little flooding accident. She said I could stay here until things get sorted out.”

“I see.” He kept his voice calm. “So you and I are—”

“Neighbors!” Julie said, in a singsong voice, making jazz-hand motions. “How…fun!”

Alex pulled at his earlobe in agitation. Fun was not the word he would have used.

And from the small line between Emma’s eyebrows, not the one she would have used, either.

Damn you, Camille. He should have known something was up that day at the office when she asked one too many questions about whether he minded her setting Emma up on a blind date.