“What do you think of this whole thing? This weekend?” she asks as I gather strands above her ears.

  “It’s a little weird, but weird is what we signed up for, right?”

  “I suppose. You’re so sharp with your answers,” she says.

  “So are you.”

  “Yeah, I am pretty kick-ass,” she says with a grin.

  “No doubt.” I pause for a moment. “What do you make of Vaughn? He seems so laid-back. How can that be what they want?” This conversation feels good, like how we were when we worked together, assessing opportunities jointly.

  “I wouldn’t worry about him,” she says.

  “Why?” I ask curiously.

  She glances back at me. “I just wouldn’t.”

  “But why?” I press on.

  “I know him. Just trust me on this.”

  For a split second, I want to ask if there’s something between them. But I don’t have to ask to know the answer. There isn’t anything between them. She’s here. She came to find me. So I do the opposite of what I did that night in Vegas. I choose to trust her fully.

  “Okay. I do trust you. But you haven’t told me what you think of this pitchfest.”

  “I think a lot of things,” she whispers.

  “Like what?” I ask, reaching for the hair tie on her wrist.

  She lifts her arm, slides it off, and offers it to me. Taking it, I also seize the chance to press a kiss to her wrist.

  I’m rewarded with a sweet, sexy sigh.

  “Like . . . things are becoming clear,” she says.

  “What things?”

  “Just . . . things.”

  Laughing, I loop the ends of her hair in the tie. “Fine. Don’t tell me.”

  “How does my braid look?” she asks, changing the topic.

  “I’d tell you to get up and check in—”

  “I don’t want to get up.”

  “Good. Don’t go.”

  “I won’t.” She leans back against my chest, and I wrap my arms around her waist. This moment feels as close to perfection as has ever existed on earth. Haven Delilah in my arms. I don’t care what is happening in the rest of the house. I don’t give a fuck what’s going down beyond these doors. Fact is, I haven’t really cared this whole day, this whole week. She has all of my attention, all of my interest.

  “Josh?” she whispers.

  “Yeah?”

  I draw her closer, sweeping my lips over her neck, making her shiver, making me shiver.

  “Sometimes I think about nights like this.” It’s clearly only the beginning of what’s on her mind.

  I swallow, waiting for her to tell me more.

  “I think about you finding me in the dark,” she continues. “About you coming into my home, into my bed, and finding me.”

  This confession makes my heart hammer, my pulse spike. It makes me see paths to brand-new possibilities. “What would I find if I came into your room after dark?” I ask as my hands slide under her shirt, my fingers grazing the soft skin of her belly.

  She arches against me, her body seeking my touch. “You’d find me like this, wanting you, thinking of you.”

  I draw a deep breath, letting it fill me, letting it fuel me. Is this real? Or is this a hot, fevered dream? “Haven,” I growl. “I’m always finding you in the dark. It’s always you. Every night, it’s you.”

  She reaches back, feeling for me. Sliding her fingers through my hair, driving me out of my mind with lust and desire and something so much stronger, so much more.

  “That’s why it made me crazy when they were joking about your neck.” Her hand slides over my throat. She swivels around, gets on her knees, and clasps my face. “I hated that lie you told.”

  “I hated it too,” I say, and she seals her mouth to mine, planting a hot, searing kiss on my lips, like she’s marking me. She kisses me ferociously, taking what’s hers, burning down the forest of my resistance, leaving me with nothing but this inferno of desire.

  When she breaks the kiss, I’m wound up, panting, my hands clasped tightly to her hips.

  “I hate the thought that someone else could have done this,” she says, then dips her face to my neck and traces the outline of Wisconsin with the tip of her tongue.

  Her touch is electric, and I’m vibrating with need. “No one else can,” I whisper.

  She kisses the mark, lets go, and meets my eyes. Her gaze knocks everything loose in my chest. It topples drawers full of emotion, rattling them open. “Why? Tell me why. Why can’t anyone else?”

  I flip her to her back. “Don’t you get it?”

  Making quick work of our clothes, I strip off her tank and shorts, then slide off my boxer briefs.

  “Get what?” she asks, trembling, parting her legs for me.

  I slide inside her as pleasure crashes over me in waves. My reality teeters on the sheer bliss of being inside her. I move then still myself, meeting her dark gaze. At last, I answer her with the raw reality. “You own me, Haven. You totally fucking own me.”

  She gasps, and it sounds like she’s overcome with emotion. Like she can’t even talk.

  I don’t want to talk.

  I don’t want to do anything but get close to her.

  Closer than I’ve ever been.

  I reach for her leg, hitch it up, and move deeper. I rock into her, filling her, fucking her, making love to her.

  This time, we are quiet.

  We don’t talk.

  We muffle all our sounds with kisses and swallowed groans. With moans and murmurs. And with contact. Every time her breath hitches, she circles her arms tighter around my waist and grabs me harder.

  I do the same, moving in her, taking her, and bringing her to the edge once again.

  She parts her lips, and I know she’s about to unleash a gorgeous feral moan to the heavens. I know she can’t control it, and I love that she’s unraveling so beautifully.

  But I know, too, that she won’t want a soul to know what we’re doing. I cover her mouth with my palm, bring my lips to her ear, and whisper, “I got you. Just let go.”

  She gasps and groans against my hand, writhing beneath me, coming so damn hard I can’t hold back any longer either. I bury my face in her neck, swallowing all my sounds, all the words, everything I want to say to her.

  But it’s not like keeping it quiet is going to change a damn thing.

  She has to know I’m so ridiculously in love with her; I can’t think about anything else.

  That’s what this day has made clear.

  And that’s why, once she’s fallen asleep in my arms, I leave.

  23

  Josh

  Dear Alicia,

  * * *

  Thank you so much for inviting me here for the weekend. You are an incomparable hostess, and I am grateful for your hospitality.

  I appreciate you including me in the consideration for Jackson. He’s lucky to have someone like you in his corner, someone so tenacious and passionate. He’s going to have a long and prosperous career—I mean that in all honesty, and as I said, honesty is a key trait in an agent. He’s also a great guy. Every now and then, an agent gets to represent someone who’s a genuinely good person.

  But that won’t be me.

  I’m excusing myself from the running for his representation for entirely personal reasons.

  And I’ll be cheering him on from the sidelines.

  * * *

  All the best,

  Josh Summers

  24

  Haven

  Blinking, I sit up in my ex’s bed. It’s empty.

  I curse him silently for being gone.

  But maybe he’s in the little boys’ room?

  I pad across the floor. Nope. No Josh.

  Do I want to conduct a furtive search for him on the premises?

  I spot a white slip of paper on the pillow, and with nervous fingers, and a trembling heart, I unfold it.

  * * *

  Haven,

  * * *

  Call me sometime. Sometime soon. Like, maybe after you win this client, since I know you’ll nab him.

  Also, when you call me, I’ll tell you why I left. It’s not what you think.

  I know you want to win fair and square. Trust me, when you do win, you will have won because you deserve it.

  Until then, don’t take too long to find me in the dark.

  * * *

  Josh

  25

  Josh

  Dom Pinkerton stomps through the gardens at his house in Greenwich, Connecticut, where I’ve been summoned.

  Summoned at eight in the morning on a Saturday.

  When I texted him in the middle of the night and told him I was bowing out, he told me: Get your ass to Connecticut like you’re in the Batmobile. I gird myself for the biggest dressing down of my career.

  His pool-ball head is shiny and pink. He’s been sweating as he tends to the orchids, shouting at an orange flower. “Do you know what I hate more than losing a client?”

  “No, sir,” I say, bracing myself for an epic lashing.

  He flaps his arms, pointing to the gardens. “Losing an orchid. Look at these beauties. Look at my babies.” He gestures tenderly to a flower with delicate orange petals. “This here is Polly. Polly is a Cattleya Sierra Doll. A hybrid. She’s as close to perfection as you’ll get with orchids. And right now, I should be talking to Polly, nurturing her, growing her. Instead, what am I doing?”

  “Talking to me, sir.”

  He huffs. “So, why the hell did you think it was a good idea to recuse yourself? This is getting to be a habit with you, isn’t it?”

  I wince but take it on the chin. “Seems it is, sir.”

  “What’s your goddamn reason this time? Is it about a woman again?”

  I lick my lips, take a breath, and answer him. “Yes and no.”

  “It’s awfully convenient to hedge your bets like that.”

  “It’s both.”

  “Get it together, Summers. Last time, you excused yourself from a vote on a promotion because you had”—he stops to draw air quotes—“‘feelings for Haven.’ Translation: you were in love with her, and I fucking knew it.”

  I’m speechless for a moment because I didn’t think he knew how deep it went. All I’d said was I cared for her. I’d never said we had a thing. I’d never said I was in love. But maybe I didn’t have to.

  Maybe it was more obvious than I thought.

  “I do have it together.” I mean it completely. “This was a calculated decision.”

  “Oh, it was? And how’s that?” He crosses his arms.

  I take a beat, waiting for regret to wash over me. Nope, the wave doesn’t come. I don’t regret walking away from a client I didn’t court, didn’t chase, didn’t crave.

  That has nothing to do with Jackson and everything to do with me. “Because I didn’t want it badly enough.”

  His jaw ticks. “Information that would have been helpful yesterday, so I could have reminded you of all the reasons you ought to want this. Like this one: because it’s your fucking job to want it.”

  That’s the problem. My job ought to be motivation enough. I love my job. Love it to the ends of the earth and back. But I love something else more. And I can’t get excited for new work the way I used to. I can’t focus the way I used to.

  And that’s a problem I need to fix. But I couldn’t fix it with her in the same room, same house, or the same space as me.

  “I understand why you’re upset, sir. But here’s the issue: I walked away from it because I wasn’t invested the way you’d want me to be. My focus was elsewhere, and I don’t regret stepping down from contention. Do you regret it when you don’t give your orchids all the attention they deserve?”

  “Of course,” he says with a derisive scoff. “But we’re not talking about my orchids.”

  “But we are, in a way. Likewise, do you regret it when you spend a weekend away from your wife when you could have been with her?”

  His eyes narrow, and he lifts his chin. “What are you getting at?”

  I sigh deeply. “You want me to regret this decision, but I don’t. If you’re going to fire me, then fire me.” I hold my hands out in surrender, but I feel no sadness. “The fact is, I had to drop out. So I did.”

  He growls. Literally growls. “What are you going to do next? I mean it. What the hell are you doing next? I count on you to chase new business. I depend on you to win clients. You’re my goddamn top agent, and I need your closing skills. But you didn’t close this weekend. You kicked open the door and walked the hell out. That can’t happen again, Summers.”

  “You’re right. It can’t.” For the first time, I completely understand negotiation on a personal level. He who’s willing to walk away has all the power. I’ll walk, and I’ve never felt that way before.

  That’s why I need to regroup.

  Because no one tells you that when you fall for a woman who turns your heart inside out, you’ll turn your world upside down for her. “I need a few days to get things sorted out. I need a break from work.”

  “No shit you need a break.” Then he waves a hand. “Get out of here. If you don’t plan on pulling this crap again, you can show up next Monday. If you don’t, thanks for all the money you made me. Now leave, so I can talk to Polly.”

  I catch an Uber into the city and tell Jason he’d better be at the park in an hour because I need his advice.

  Badly.

  Because I didn’t tell Dom the whole story.

  My boss doesn’t need to know everything. He’s never needed to know everything. But I’m finally being honest with myself, and here’s the piece I never would have admitted before, the twist I never saw coming.

  I want her to win.

  I want her to beat me.

  I wanted it the second I heard the end of her conversation with her assistant about Girl Power, and even more when she told me how close she is to the next step in her dreams.

  I’m the guy who has an endless capacity in the competitive compartment, and yet the compartment is empty when it comes to her.

  Or really, it’s full.

  Because I want her to have every damn thing she dreams of, and I have to play my part in making that possible.

  We run around the Reservoir.

  “I’m having a hard time picturing this,” Jason says. “You literally just walked away in the middle of the night? Over a woman, so she could win the deal?”

  “Yes,” I say as we cruise around the water.

  “Yes?” he blurts. “Yes? Yes? Yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t get it. You love your job like you’re married to it, yet you didn’t care about winning the hottest rising star on the market? Where is my friend Josh, and what did you do with him?”

  I shrug as we round a curve. “Didn’t care. Not one bit. Still don’t. Don’t you see? That’s the issue, man.”

  “That’s not the only issue.” Jason can’t seem to get past my uncharacteristic forfeit. I get it—I’ve never walked away from a game, a bet, or a deal I could close. I go balls to the wall on everything. Except last night. “How exactly do you plan on paying those pesky little things known as bills?”

  “Dude, I’m not leaving the business. I just left that . . .” I wave a hand in the general direction of the Hamptons. “That scene.”

  He shoots me an inquisitive stare. “A scene that no longer interested you?”

  “Exactly.” I slow my pace and heave a sigh. “I didn’t want to win the client anymore. I wanted her to win. That’s the problem—all I can think about is her.” I rake a hand through my hair. “All I want is her. She’s this constant, persistent presence in my head, in my heart. I can’t compete for deals and clients against this woman. I want to hold her and keep her and never let her go. Do you have any idea what that’s like?”

  He stops and levels me with a stare. “Yes. Yes, I do. Not precisely like that, but I absolutely know what it’s like to want someone so much. So I married her, and she’s having our baby in a few weeks.” He clasps a hand on my shoulder. “But what’s your plan? How are you going to navigate work and Haven? Are you just going to drop out of every deal, every race? You vie against her a lot. I’m worried about you, mate. And I never worry about you.”

  I look up at the sky then back at him, searching for an answer I don’t possess. “All I know is I can’t work in this in-between state anymore. And I can’t be cooped up in a house on the beach where all I want is to be with her but can’t. Last night, I had zero interest in the schmooze. And you know me.”

  He smiles. “You love the schmooze.”

  “Love it like it’s a game-winning homer in the World Series that’ll activate a bonus clause. But I didn’t want to go mano a mano with her for a client. I can’t and I won’t, and I’m done with it.”

  He raises his arms heavenward. “Every now and then, a man achieves complete clarity.”

  But that’s precisely the problem. What do I do with this clarity?

  Jason has to take off for an appointment, so I turn to my next set of reinforcements.

  After all, sometimes you need a woman’s opinion on the finer details of love.

  Fortunately, I have access to a trio of fairer-sex advice-givers, and all three love doling it out freely to their big brother.

  I start with Amy, texting to see if she’s available to chat. She tells me yes, but she’s been saving the world with Quinn, so I’ll get two sisters for the price of one.

  I find them at a board-game café in the Village that afternoon, huddled over a table in the corner, working to stop the spread of disease in Pandemic. “Have you found the cure yet?”

  “Working so damn hard on it,” Quinn says then stands and holds out her arms. “Come to the wise ones.”

  I give her a hug then give Amy the requisite noogie before she tells me she has to use the little girl’s room. My youngest sister takes off.