The Trouble with Love (Sex, Love & Stiletto 4)

Alex’s eyes closed in a silent prayer at the sleepy female voice on the other end as he asked the all-important question. . . .

“Do you still like pancakes?”

Chapter 23

Sleeping with Cassidy hadn’t been the mistake. Not really. Neither had her mistake been agreeing to go to brunch with him.

And the mistake hadn’t been eating three decadent bananas Foster pancakes when she probably should have just had one.

None of those had been her smartest moments, to be sure, but they weren’t the real problem.

The real problem came when she proceeded to spend the rest of the day with him.

As in, she spent all of Sunday with Alex Cassidy.

And, it was . . . wonderful.

“Okay, Emma, I’m just going to come clean here,” Cassidy said as they stepped out of Starbucks with holiday beverages in hand.

“You’re regretting not getting the gingerbread latte?” she asked, taking a sip of her own delightful confection. “Because you’re not getting a sip of mine—”

He shook his head, turning to walk backward in front of her, somehow managing to avoid running into anyone as he gave her a scathing look. “Eggnog lattes are where it’s at. Everyone knows that.”

Emma made a gagging motion. “Why would anyone ruin a perfectly good espresso beverage with eggnog?”

“Take it easy, Scrooge. But, anyway, your crappy taste in holiday coffee beverages wasn’t what I was going to complain about. . . .”

Emma rolled her eyes, reaching out a hand to tug at his sleeve to prevent him from mowing over a teen with at least a dozen piercings coming from the opposite direction.

“Fine, get whatever you need to

say out of your system,” she said, hiding her smile by taking a sip of her coffee. Extra caffeinated, courtesy of last night’s lack of sleep.

He halted in the middle of the sidewalk, holding up a palm so she had to stop, too.

All traces of teasing dropped from his face, and Emma felt her smile slip. “You sure you want to hear this?” he asked.

She nodded, even though she wasn’t at all sure.

Cassidy leaned in slightly. “That museum exhibit you raved about all during breakfast and then dragged me to?” he paused dramatically. “That was probably the worst thing I’ve ever had the misfortune of looking at. And that’s including the time Joe Falet and Chris Dorian both went for a header sophomore year and Joe’s head split wide open. I think I saw brain.”

Inside, Emma melted in relief. Outwardly, she never lost her droll expression as she jabbed a finger at his chest. “That exhibit is on loan from Vienna, and includes some of the most highly acclaimed art of the century.”

“This century? Because this century’s pretty young, and I have to think that there’s plenty of time for a golden retriever and some finger paint to set a new standard in the next fifty years.”

Emma rolled her eyes and continued walking. “You never could appreciate art.”

But he’d agreed to go with her. No, he’d suggested it, after she’d gotten a bit too enthusiastic about the newly opened MoMA exhibit at brunch.

“I like art,” he protested. “I’ve evolved. I can identify an impressionist painting, and I’ve got proper respect for Michelangelo’s David, but modern art? No. I stand by my toddlers and dogs can do better theory.”

“Agree to disagree?” Emma said, taking another sip of her gingerbread latte.

“Sure,” he said with a shrug. “If you’re okay being wrong.”

He shifted again, back into that walking-backward position, and she smiled, because he looked so charmingly boyish in his gray hoodie and jeans.

Her footsteps faltered then as she realized what she was seeing. She was seeing old Cassidy. She stopped altogether, earning an irritated glare from the man behind her, but she barely noticed.