Fire scorched Cole Brook’s lungs, and his jaw hung open in an imbecilic fashion, but as much as he must look like a total idiot to anyone bothering to pay attention, the damned thing wouldn’t close. He couldn’t stop staring through the greasy, fingerprint-smeared window at her. Millie Frayser. The girl—now woman—who’d been one of his closest friends at school, and who’d rejected him not once, but twice.

Except that wasn’t fair. Millie hadn’t been aware of his secret obsession with her. Instead, she’d been mesmerized by his brother’s charisma. When it came to thrills and excitement, Calum’s domineering personality was impossible to resist. To Millie, Cole had simply been her buddy. The nice one. The invisible man who’d been relegated to live in the shadow of his utterly captivating sibling whose brooding yet charming temperament had demanded the spotlight.

Calum had drawn Millie in, like a moth to the proverbial flame, then tossed her aside with astonishing speed.

Cole had given her a comforting shoulder to cry on like the good buddy he was. She’d blurted it all out, and he’d bitten his tongue and listened to her sobs and her questioning of where it had all gone wrong.

Cole’s stomach twisted at the memory. He adored Calum, idolized him even, but there were times when he hated his guts. The day he’d so harshly broken off his fledgling relationship with Millie, refusing to offer any explanation, had been one of those occasions.

Millie had rebounded, hard. Except instead of rebounding into his arms, Tanner Bailey—captain of the football team, arrogant jock, and total dick—had seized his chance and picked her off so easily. Within a week of their high-school graduation—which also happened to be the day she’d turned eighteen—Tanner had put a ring on her finger. They’d moved to Chicago, and Cole hadn’t seen her since.

And now, here she was. Back in New York. So many years had passed since he’d last laid eyes on her—and yet, as he stood there gaping, time folded in on itself. It felt like only yesterday when he’d watched her get married. She’d unwittingly stolen a piece of his soul that day, leaving behind a wound other women hadn’t been able to heal.

Sure, he’d had girlfriends. He hadn’t exactly lived like a monk this past decade. But none of them had touched him in that hidden place reserved for The One—the place Millie owned.

Cole jerked out of the past as long-buried childhood resentments threatened to hurtle to the surface. Sweat dampened his palms. He peered through the window once more. She’d barely changed from all those years ago, save for the crinkles around her eyes. Shoulder-length, coffee-colored hair, oval face, a dimple on her left cheek. Hypnotic mocha eyes, although he couldn’t see them right then because she was staring into her coffee. Cole had spent a good proportion of his youth craving for her to turn those eyes on him with the same hunger she had with Calum.

A pang in his chest he’d long since forgotten returned. She was even more beautiful now, the innocence of youth replaced with an intoxicating maturity. No one else came close to making him feel such a profound ache as the woman on the other side of the glass. Her light had shone so brightly she’d dazzled him.

She could have been his. Should have been his. Why hadn’t he told her how he felt? Why hadn’t he fought for her, staked his claim? Given her a chance to notice him—the real man behind the façade he showed the world, rather than simply Calum’s shadow?

Because you’re a dick who’ll do anything to avoid conflict.

Bullshit. Not true. He wasn’t afraid of conflict, although he preferred to seek solutions, mediate, search for common ground.

It was no surprise he became a cop. Resolving hostilities, displaying tact and diplomacy? He had all those attributes in abundance. Protecting those he loved? Fucking Zen master.

Fighting for something he wanted more than life itself? Yeah, he sucked ass.

Draven, his partner in the NYPD, an all-round bearded, tattooed badass, appeared at his shoulder.

“Feet glued to the sidewalk, dickhead?”

Cole looked at Draven. “It’s her,” he said, nodding toward Millie who still hadn’t noticed the two cops gawking at her through the window. She was too fixated on her coffee cup, as if it had the answers to every question she’d ever asked. “The one I let get away. I haven’t seen her since high school.”

Draven glanced between Cole and Millie, and then his gaze settled on Cole, a deep frown drawing his brows low.

“Are you high?”

Cole grinned. “When it comes to her, I’ve been stoned my entire life.”

Draven pointed his chin toward Millie. “So go talk to her. I’ll sign you out.”

Cole hesitated. Did he really want to tear open a wound that had never quite healed? He could walk away right this second, try to make himself forget he’d seen her, carry on with his life.

Except apart from his work, he didn’t have a life. He had an existence.

“I should come back with you,” he muttered.

Draven rolled his eyes. “Your shift’s over. Go get some, before your cock shrivels up and dies.”

“Fuck you,” Cole said to Draven’s retreating back, and then he laughed to cover up the nerves swarming through his body. His legs shook, his mouth dry as a cracker. What would he find to say to her after all this time?

He heaved in a breath and then lightly tapped on the window. Except it was more of a thump than a tap. For fuck’s sake! Her unexpected appearance had thrown him so much, he couldn’t even knock on a fucking window right.

Millie jumped, her eyes darting in his direction. She paled and knocked over her coffee. Grabbing a handful of napkins, she mopped up the spillage with short, jerky movements. Her gaze returned to him, and she openly stared, her lashes brushing her cheeks as she rapidly blinked.

Oh shit. She probably didn’t recognize him. No wonder she’d spilled her drink with a burly cop banging like hell on the window. He took a step back, half turning away before he made even more of a dick of himself.

When a flicker of recognition crossed her face, he made a decision—too late to back out now. He pushed open the door to the coffee shop, simultaneously dreading a put-down while relishing the chance to spend time with her, to bathe in the warmth of her gaze.

A couple of diners glanced over at the tall, broad-shouldered cop filling the doorway, then returned to their food. He removed his peaked cap and stuck it under his arm. Scuffing a hand over the top of his head, he made his way over to Millie’s table and smiled.

“Millie, hey. It’s me. Cole Brook. We, um, we went to high school together.”

He inwardly groaned. He sounded like a complete jerk.

Millie scooched to the end of the bench, stumbling when she got to her feet. He put out his arm to steady her, but she’d already righted herself.

“Cole, of course I remember.”

They hugged awkwardly, and he breathed her in. She smelled amazing. Even after all these years, the scent of her shampoo—vanilla—triggered a memory bubbling beneath the surface, only to burst free, bringing with it joy mingled with resentment that she’d never been his. But Christ she was thin. She’d been on the petite side in high school, but he could actually feel her bones sticking through her sweater.

“You haven’t changed a bit,” she said.

Still the invisible man, huh?

He brushed aside the uncharitable thought and smiled. “Sorry to scare you by thumping on the window like that. What are you doing in New York?”

She averted her gaze, slid back into her seat, and then began to fiddle with her watch strap. “Let me get you a coffee. Do you have the time?” She glanced around looking for the server, made a haphazard attempt to attract her attention by waving her hand in the air, then let her arm fall back to her side when the waitress served another customer. “Mustn’t have seen me,” she muttered, more to herself than to him.

“Coffee would be good.” Cole slipped onto the bench opposite. He caught the server’s eye and gestured. “Can I get two coffees over here?”

She acknowledged his request and went to fetch the pot.

“You must have the Midas touch,” Millie said with a glimmer of a smile. And then her head dropped, and she picked at a tiny scratch in the table.

The hairs on the back of Cole’s neck stood on end. Something didn’t sit right. The Millie he remembered had been confident, energetic, life and soul of the party. The woman sitting opposite was gauche, awkward, almost timid.

She lifted her chin in his direction. “You always did want to join the NYPD.”

A brief thrill rushed through him that she’d remembered his childhood dream. “Yeah. Almost ten years and counting now.”

“Do you like it?”

He nodded. “Best job in the world.”

“No ambitions to be Chief of Police?”

He chuckled. “Not one. Being on the street is where it’s at. That’s where you can make a real difference in this job. I’d go crazy sitting behind a desk all day having to manage budgets and crawl up the asses of politicians.”

“Well, you certainly cut a dashing figure in that uniform,” she said, following up with a shrill laugh.

He schooled his expression to hide his surprise at the compliment, not to mention her choice of words. Dashing? Nope. The Millie he knew wouldn’t have used such flowery language. What the fuck was going on? He thought about probing, but just as quickly, he dismissed the thought. She was acting so out of character, all nervous and jittery. Being grilled by a cop—albeit one she’d gone to high school with—might send her into meltdown. Or have her scrambling from her seat and vanishing into the Manhattan crowds.

The waitress saved him from responding by arriving with their coffees. Cole added cream and one sugar. He stirred and then set the spoon on the table. Picking up his cup, he blew across the top of the drink, and then took a sip.

“Are you back for good or just visiting?” he asked.

“For good, I think.”

A grin inched across his face. And then he remembered she wasn’t free to chase, and the grin faded. “How’s Tanner?”

She blanched, her eyes downcast. Her fingers closed around her coffee cup, and she tapped her nails against the side. Her hair fell in a veil, covering the right-hand side of her face. With a jerky hand, she tucked it behind her ear. “I don’t know,” she said with a shrug, adding, “We split up a few days ago.”

“Oh?” Yeah, he was fishing, but something about her anxious expression when she spoke about Tanner had Cole worried. He arranged his face into one of sympathy, but not pity. In his experience, most people didn’t react well to pity.

She lifted her eyes to his, two deep pools of warm chocolate that had him leaning forward in his seat like she was gravity pulling him in. Yet behind the eyes that had invaded his dreams since he was a young man lay pain and suffering. Whatever had transpired in her life, the last ten years had changed her from the girl he knew to the troubled woman now before him.

“I’ve left him,” she stated, accompanying her words with a glance out the window.

“I’m sorry,” Cole said. A blatant lie. He hated that she’d married Tanner. He’d never been the right man for her—and nor had Cole’s twin—because, dammit, Cole was the right man.

“I’m not.” Her face took on a faraway expression. Then the shutters came down, making her hard to read.

“Is he still in Chicago?”

She nodded. “At least I hope so.” She chewed on her lip, and her eyes briefly closed. “He doesn’t know I’m here, and I’d prefer to keep it that way for as long as possible.”

Cole studied her, his earlier disquiet raging inside his head. Something was very wrong.

“He won’t hear it from me. We weren’t even friends. I haven’t seen him since he left New York with you on his arm right after you turned eighteen.”

A look of surprise crossed her face. “You remembered?”

I remember everything.

He gave her a faint smile. “I guess.”

“What about you? Married? Kids?”

The abrupt change of subject was telling. Deflect attention, block others from digging too deeply, turn the conversation around to them. Most people loved to talk about themselves and would barely notice they’d been manipulated. Not him. He recognized the signs because he used the same tactics. He’d cede control to her—for now. Give her space, because the vibes pouring out of her said she needed it, badly.

“Neither.”

“Oh.” She tucked her hair behind her right ear and then immediately freed it, a habit she’d always had—and he’d always adored. “I thought some lucky girl would have snapped you up by now.”

She already did. Except she doesn’t know it.

“Married to the job, I think.”

“Yeah, I hear that about cops. They’re supposed to make terrible husbands.”

Her answering smile was tight. What he wouldn’t give for a full-on beaming grin, or one of her throaty laughs he remembered so fondly.

“Oh, I don’t know, some make it work. I guess it depends on finding the right woman who understands the demands of being married to a police officer.”

She nodded in agreement. “So, how’s Calum? Still breaking hearts?”

Did her voice lift at the mention of his twin? His chest burned with jealousy. Still, still Calum was on her mind. Ten fucking years, and his brother featured center stage, whereas he got banal conversation. Fuck if he’d let his annoyance show, despite the painful lump in his stomach.

“He’s off the market,” Cole said, watching her response carefully. “Her name’s Laurella, and she’s awesome. Exactly the kind of girl he needs. Very good at putting him in his place.”

She blinked rapidly, her eyes widening in surprise at his curt response. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”

Fuck. Way to go, dickhead. Say something to make her feel comfortable and do it quick.

He lightened his tone. “Jax runs a hotel now, right here in Manhattan. He opened it last New Year. It’s doing great. You should stop by for a drink sometime.”

“A hotel? Wow, that’s terrific.”

“Yeah.” He flashed her a grin to take away the sting of his earlier words. When her face softened, he breathed a sigh of relief. “We’re all shareholders, but he and his girlfriend, Indie, do most of the work, along with the staff, of course.”

“And Nate? What’s he up to these days? He was always such a sweet kid.”

Cole rolled his eyes. “And then he grew up. He lives out in California. He’s an actor. Doing pretty good, too. We don’t get to see very much of him.”

Her lips pulled to the side. “That’s a shame. Then again, he always struck me as very different to the rest of you. A real independent kid. I’m not surprised he’s flown the nest.”

Cole nodded. “Me either. Nate’s his own man. Jax is gutted, though. He tried so hard to keep us all together when Mom and Dad died. It still hurts Jax that Nate got as far away from New York as he could without leaving the country.”

A brief frown drew her eyebrows low. “Yes, I remember that about Jax. Family first.”

Cole nodded. “Always.”

An awkward silence fell between them. Millie removed some money from her purse. She dropped it on the table. “It’s been lovely to catch up with you, Cole, and I’d love to stay and chat, but I have an appointment to view an apartment early tomorrow morning, so I need to get some sleep. I just hope it works out. My savings won’t last long if I have to stay in a hotel much longer, especially without a job.”

Cole pushed the ten-dollar bill back across the table and replaced it with a bill of his own. “This one’s on me.”

“You don’t have to do that,” she said, although she did give him an oddly grateful look. “But thank you.”

She shuffled along the bench and stood. A surge of panic hit him. He couldn’t allow her to simply walk out of there without convincing her to meet with him again.

He hastily got to his feet. “How about dinner tomorrow night? Again, on me.”

She gnawed on her bottom lip, frowning. “I’m not sure…”

“It’s only dinner. I’ve lost touch with most people from high school. It’d be fun to reminisce about old times.”

She plucked a stray hair from the corner of her mouth. “I’d love to, but I need to channel all my energies into finding a job. I appreciate the offer, though.”

Dejected, he half turned away, and then an idea came to him. It might cause problems with Calum—big-ass problems—but he’d find a way to calm the situation. He always did, right? All he was doing was helping a friend in need.

Keep lying to yourself, dickhead.

“I might be able to help you with the job situation.”

A dash of hope lit up her face. “Really?”

“Yeah. I can tell you all about it over dinner. You have to eat, so you may as well eat with me.”

She nibbled on her fingernail. “I get the feeling you’re not going to take no for an answer.”

He winked. “You know it.”

She faltered, then gave him a shy smile. “Okay. Dinner it is.”

Buzzed with energy at winning her over, he beamed. “Great. Seven okay? I’ll pick you up.”

She nodded, reached for a napkin, and scribbled down an address. She handed it to him. “That’s where I’m staying.”

Glancing down, Cole repressed a wince. The place was an absolute shithole—frequented by hookers, pimps, and petty criminals looking to hide out until the heat died down. God only knew what the apartment she was viewing would be like if this was her temporary accommodation. He made up his mind there and then. She didn’t need to search for a job, because he’d found her one—as The Miller-Brook’s new front desk clerk.

Realizing he hadn’t spoken, he looked up. “I’ll be there. Good luck with the apartment.”

If I have my way, you won’t be there too long.

With a tentative smile and jerky nod in his direction, she picked up her purse, slung it over her shoulder, and left. She passed the window of the coffee shop and waved, then disappeared into the crowds.

Cole stared down at her neat, precise handwriting. He opened his wallet and tucked the napkin inside.

Millie had been hesitant, but at least she’d agreed to dinner. He was determined it would be the first of many. He stuck the money underneath the salt shaker and, with a lightness in his chest, set off for home.