The Trouble With Love(55)

In response, his palm pressed even more firmly against her, pulling her in until their hips brushed. Then his head dipped, his lips near her ear, his voice husky.

“I know.”

Emma’s eyes drifted shut as they somehow moved even closer.

Only then did she listen to the lyrics of the song, and she remembered. Back when she’d listened to this song on repeat, she and Cassidy had been together.

He’d known it was her favorite.

Her eyes flew open and she pulled back just enough to look up at his face.

“This song…it’s ‘I Told You So.’?”

He didn’t smile. “I may have sold my soul to Julie and Mitchell in order to pick the last song. It’s not exactly wedding-night material, but I doubt they’re paying attention to the words.”

Emma’s lips parted, stunned by the admission. “You requested this?”

His smile was slight. “I have fond memories.”

She laughed. “Fond? Really? Seems to me this song was a point of argument more often than not.”

“Ah, but listen,” he said, pointing a finger. “I think you’ll notice something different.”

Emma quieted to listen, just as a female voice joined the male’s. She heard what she hadn’t registered before.

“It’s a duet!”

He smiled. “This version came out a couple years after we broke up.”

Emma shook her head, half-amused, half-baffled…baffled that he’d not only remembered a silly seven-year-old argument, but cared enough to request the song at a friend’s wedding.

Country music wasn’t big in New York—at all—but it had been more popular in North Carolina, and both she and Cassidy had been occasional fans when the mood was right.

Back then, Emma had been particularly partial to Carrie Underwood, and had been over the moon for one of Carrie’s singles, “I Told You So,” a heartbreaking ballad that she’d listened to on near constant repeat.

Cassidy, being a self-proclaimed country purist, had broken the news that the song was hardly an original. That honor belonged to Randy Travis, who’d originally recorded the song back in the eighties.

The result had been a good-natured war in which they each tried to outplay the other, arguing the merits of each version.

Emma hadn’t thought about it in years—hadn’t listened to the song since they broke up.

She shook her head as she listened. “It’s perfect. Both their voices together. The best of both.”

He pulled her closer again, and she let him. His head dipped slightly so they were cheek to cheek. “Guess some things are better together.”

Emma’s fingers clenched on his shoulder at the words. He wasn’t talking about the song. At least not just about the song.

He was talking about people.

He was talking about them.

Emma closed her eyes and listened to the music, letting herself sink into the moment. Letting herself sink into Cassidy, his smell and his warmth, and, most alarming of all, his familiarity.

She remembered this. Not just her mind, not just her body, but her soul remembered this.

“It’s funny,” she said, turning her head so that her cheek brushed his shoulder. “This song fits so much better now than it did back then.”

His cheek brushed her hair. “I’m not sure that’s such a good thing, considering the song’s about heartbreak.”

“True,” she said, on a dreamy sigh. “It’s still beautiful, though. In a hauntingly melancholy kind of way.”

Emma realized that now she was the one talking in double meaning, although she hadn’t realized she was doing it.

The song began to build into the final chorus, and Emma felt a little jolt of panic at the realization that the dance was almost over.

And beyond the panic, a surge of shock, because she didn’t want it to end. Didn’t want to say good night to Cassidy. Didn’t want to go back to being forced, awkward strangers tomorrow.

Cassidy’s hand slid up, his palm moving over her back in a caress, and she heard his breath quicken. Their joined hands shifted again, so his thumb brushed against her palm, and she felt fireworks at the simple touch. Felt his reaction as well.

Emma knew she was in danger then. He wanted her.

And more dangerous still…she wanted him, too.





Chapter 21


The Plaza wasn’t all that far from her apartment…in different circumstances she would have walked. But at one in the morning, after standing all day in high heels and then dancing all night, there was no way her feet were carrying her that many blocks.

There was a line for cabs, and Emma wasn’t surprised when she and Cassidy wordlessly found themselves in line together.

Just like she wasn’t surprised when he slipped his jacket over her shoulders.

Nor was she surprised when he climbed into the cab after her.

She told herself sharing a cab made sense. They were neighbors.

But Emma knew this had nothing to do with practicality or convenience, and everything to do with whatever had passed between them on the dance floor.

They didn’t talk on the cab ride home.

They didn’t touch as the cab headed west on Central Park South toward that fateful moment when they’d stand beside their respective front doors and make a crucial decision.