Her lips parted in surprise at the admission, and her belly flipped in excitement.

Josh’s gaze held hers. Searching. Waiting.

“Oh hell,” she muttered. “That’s why I kissed him. I wanted to make you jealous.”

The corner of his mouth tilted up. “I know.”

Josh dipped his head toward hers, his head moving slowly, giving her time to pull back.

She met him halfway.

Their mouths collided hungrily, and it was like the Fourth of July and New Year’s Eve all rolled into one. Fireworks. In her mind, her belly, her . . . other parts.

Her hands lifted to his waist, fingers tangling in the soft fabric in his shirt as his hand slipped to the back of her neck, tugging her closer as his tongue swept into her mouth, his breath minty and coffee and man.

He eased back slowly and Heather let out a little whimper of dismay, trying to pull him closer once more. Josh gave a little laugh, nipping her bottom lip in his teeth before soothing it with his tongue and releasing her. “There’s someone at your door, 4C.”

Heather jerked back, the sound of a knock finally breaking through her sexual haze. “Holy crap,” she muttered, glancing at the clock. “How’d that happen so quickly?”

“Sorry,” he said quietly, smoothing a curl away from her face before hopping down from the counter. “I meant to be gone before they got here.”

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Heather frowned. “What are you talking about? You’re staying for brunch, moron.”

“I am?” He blinked in surprise.

Heather felt something soften around her heart at the unexpected vulnerability, and she tried to ignore it. “Of course you are. You helped me shop, helped me cook . . . you have to stay.”

“I don’t want to intrude,” he said as a louder, more insistent knock sounded at the door.

She met his eyes. “Yeah, I think we’re way past that. Don’t you?”

Chapter Eleven

IT TOOK JOSH ALL of five minutes of watching Heather with her coworkers to realize one thing:

Heather loved her job far more than he’d ever loved his. Or at least, she loved her coworkers.

Heather was happy. Radiantly so.

He wasn’t sure why he was surprised. For some reason, the way she was so tightly wound all the time, he’d just sort of assumed that her stress about her job came from external pressure—a fierce demon on her back that drove her to be more, to be better.

Seeing her now though, as she animatedly described some hotel lobby she’d toured yesterday, Josh realized that it wasn’t that at all. Her job had its pressures, certainly, but it was pressure Heather put on herself, because she cared so much.

She fiercely cared about other people’s weddings—about getting them perfect.

And for a heart-stopping moment, Josh was . . . jealous.

Jealous that she’d found a calling and a career that seemed to light her up from within.

“So you’re the noisy neighbor, hmm?” Josh glanced up from the stove, where he’d just dropped a pat of butter into a skillet for the eggs to find Alexis Morgan watching him.

From the second the group had walked through the door, Josh had understood what Heather had meant when she’d described Alexis as complicated. There was a duality about her. She was beautiful in an old-fashioned, composed sort of way. Wide brown eyes, slim, petite features. But just when you expected her to be quiet and sort of shy, she looked at you, and you were hit with the sense that you would never have any idea what she was thinking or feeling. Ever.

He and Heather had joked about each other having walls, and they certainly had them, but Alexis Morgan was on a whole other level. Not only did the pretty brunette construct a veritable Great Wall around her, she was aware of it—aware of how other people saw her, because she carefully cultivated what they saw.

“Noisy neighbor,” Josh said, swirling the pan so that the sizzling butter coated the bottom. “Is that what she calls me?”

Alexis lifted her champagne flute to her lips and studied him. “She’s mentioned being short on sleep once or twice, courtesy of your band.”

Josh felt a little stab of guilt. It wasn’t that he’d been completely immune to Heather’s complaints, nor was he selfish enough to think it was his right to play live music at midnight in an apartment building with shared walls.




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