New York, Actually: A sparkling romantic comedy from the bestselling Queen of Romance

Had he seen her sitting? Did he think she’d been waiting, hoping to see him?

She wished now that she’d carried on running.

Her father was right. She was a hypocrite. If she’d been offering advice she would have warned women to stay away from him, or at least be wary, and here she was as eager to see him as Valentine was to see Brutus.

“Sorry I’m late.” His smile would have lit a dark night and she felt something flutter behind her ribs.

It was a good job she was excellent at resisting men, otherwise she’d be in trouble.

“What are you late for?” She managed to sound normal. Relaxed. But it was all for nothing because his smile told her he knew she’d been waiting. And hoping.

She was sure that a man like him was used to women waiting and hoping.

How many hearts had he broken? How many dreams had he shattered?

“I would have been here ten minutes ago but the line was longer than usual.”

“The line?”

“At the coffee shop. Since you refused to come with me for a coffee, I brought the drinks to you.”

She’d come to the conclusion long ago that there were two types of people in life. There was the type who saw an obstacle and gave up, and then there was the type like him—people who ignored the obstacle and simply found a different way to reach their goal.

“I don’t drink cappuccino.”

“Which is why I bought tea. You’re British, so you have to drink tea.” Still holding Brutus, he sat. “English Breakfast or Earl Grey? That I couldn’t figure out.”

“So which did you bring?”

“Both. I’m a man who likes to cover all bases.”

“Are you always this persistent?”

He smiled, untangling Brutus from the lead with his free hand. “Fortune does not favor those who give up at the first hurdle.”

“Old Chinese proverb?”

“All American. One of mine. Sit. I said sit.”

Molly raised her eyebrows. “Me or the dog?”

His eyes gleamed. “Both of you, but I’m guessing neither of you are going to listen. That’s how my day rolls.”

She didn’t sit, but she did smile. “What if I tell you I only drink peppermint?”

“Then I’m screwed.” He fed the lead under Brutus’s leg in an attempt to untangle it. “But you don’t seem to me to be a ‘peppermint’ type of woman. Maybe you don’t drink coffee, but you need your caffeine.”

“I do drink coffee. But not cappuccino. And I happen to love Earl Grey tea.”

“I’ll try not to be smug.” He handed her one of the cups. “Earl Grey. With a slice of lemon.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“I never joke about beverages, especially after the week I’ve had. Caffeine is my drug of choice, during the daytime at least.”

She watched as Brutus and Valentine played together. “We can let the dogs off the lead here.”

“Brutus isn’t good at coming back when he’s called.”

“He’ll come back if Valentine is here.”

He evaluated the risk and then unclipped the lead. “You’d better be right about this or I have a feeling that the next time I see him I’m going to be picking him up from New Jersey.”

“He’ll come. Watch. Valentine!”

Valentine skidded to a halt and turned to look at her. Then he shot toward her and Brutus followed.

“Good boy.” She made a fuss and sent him off again.

“Do you have that effect on all guys?”

“Always.” She peeled the top off her cup to cool the tea. “I can’t believe we’re sitting on a bench in Central Park and I’m drinking Earl Grey tea with lemon.” She sat next to him on the bench, leaving enough space between them to be sure her leg wouldn’t accidentally brush against his. If talking to him had this effect on her, she didn’t want to risk touching. “Do you ever take no for an answer?”

“Only when no is the answer I want. And in this case it wasn’t.”

Laughter drifted across to them and she glanced up and saw a woman in a long white bridal dress embracing a man in a suit while a photographer snapped away. The couple staged a few intimate embraces and Molly wished they’d picked a different place for their photos. The scene made her feel awkward. It didn’t feel as if it was something she should be witnessing, especially not with a stranger.

“Never understood the point of that.” Daniel stretched out his legs, as relaxed as she was tense. “Staged photos. As if they need to make a public statement about how happy they are.”

“Maybe they are happy.”

“Maybe.” He turned his head to look at her. “You believe in Happy Ever After?”

There was something about the intensity of that gaze that made it hard to remember what she believed about anything.

“Of course.” She believed in it for other people, just not for herself. Happy Ever After Together was her goal for other people. Her own goal was Happy By Herself. And she was doing well with that. “I guess it’s a good time of year for wedding photos. The blossom is pretty.”

“Let’s hope they don’t look back on those photos in five years’ time and think, ‘what the hell were we thinking?’”

It was exactly the sort of remark she might have made herself, except in her case she would have also been wondering how they met and what they had in common. Would it last?

“I gather you’re not married.” She took a sip of her tea, thinking that a man like him, who probably had the pick of women, was unlikely to tie himself to just one.

“I’m not married. How about you? Have you left some guy sated and exhausted in the bedroom?”

“Ten guys. There’s a chance they may never recover. If they’re still there when I get home, I’m calling an ambulance.”

He laughed. “The moment I laid eyes on you, I knew that about you. If you’re ever looking for one guy to replace the ten, you know where I am.”