Present day

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I slipped on the red dress and turned in a circle, checking my reflection in Luna’s bedroom mirror. “I don’t know,” I said. “It’s a bit risqué. This is a friendly meeting, not a date, Luna.”

“Like hell it’s a friendly meeting,” Luna said quietly, and tossed her red locks over her shoulder. She’d always reminded me of the lead singer from Paramore, except she had a terrible singing voice and a laugh that would’ve put a donkey to shame. “Come on, Ricky, you know he’s into you. I mean, you slept together.”

“One time,” I said, “and that was a huge mistake. He was just playing games with me. He knows that I’ve always had a crush on him, and it’s just—”

“You’re making excuses. You like him, and he likes you. Haven’t you ever heard that there’s a thin line between love and hate?” Luna got up and gripped me by the shoulders. She swept my hair back from my face. “Come on, you’ve got to wear this. You’ve got the boobs for it, and god knows I look like a fire truck whenever I try fit into this dress. Red hair and red dress just don’t go well together.”

“Liar,” I said, and touched her hand on my shoulder. “You always look amazing.”

Luna tossed her hair and fluttered her lashes at me. “Not as gorgeous as you look tonight,” she said. “Now, let’s do your makeup. He said he was taking you dancing?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Yeah, definitely not a work-colleague thingy. Dancing is like fucking with clothes on,” Luna said. It was always odd when those nasty words came out of her soft-spoken mouth. “He wants it, and I suggest you go ahead and let him have it.”

“I’m not as sexually free as you are, Luna.”

“You mean, you’re not a connoisseur in the art of ho? Regrettable,” she replied, sighing. “Let’s go with a smoky eye. Oooh! Yes, and then the red lip to match. You’re going to look like a siren.”

I sat down in front of Luna’s dresser in her Manhattan apartment, and looked out of the gorgeous windows at the view of glittering lights as she worked her magic. Luna came from a rich family who’d bought the two-bedroom apartment for her, and that backing had allowed her to follow her dream: becoming a makeup artist. She’d studied cosmetology, then moved on to movie makeup. In fact, she’d provided makeup for some of the most popular shows on television, including The Walking Dead.

“Just don’t make me look like a zombie,” I said, as she leaned down in front of me, her lips pursed and makeup brush poised.

“You’d be the sexiest zombie to roam the earth.”

Half an hour later, I was done, and I slipped on a pair of Luna’s heels, Louboutins in fact, and admired myself in the mirror. “I am way overdressed,” I said.

“Trust me, you’re not.”

“OK, but if he turns up in a pair of jeans and flip-flops…”

“Then we’ll slam the door in his face,” Luna replied.

God, all her talk about this being a date had actually gotten to me. And it wasn’t even a date. It was just two friends, or rather, enemies, hanging out. I had to keep telling myself that. And that I didn’t even like Noah as a person. Liar.

“You’ve got five minutes. One last glass of wine before you go? Dutch courage?” Luna asked, and bustled off to the kitchen to make good on that.

The doorbell rang, and my heart leaped into my throat. “I’ll get it,” I called out, and walked out of Luna’s bedroom and past my own, through the open living room and adjoined kitchen, and to the front door.

“You got this,” Luna whispered, peering at me from the kitchen’s doorway.

“Shush.” I pulled back the chain, clicked the lock, then opened up and lost my damn breath.

Noah stood in front of the door, his hands in the pockets of his suit pants, a Rolex on his arm, and the sleeves of his button-down shirt rolled up to his elbows, exposing his muscled forearms. Yeah, I hadn’t overdressed. In fact, we matched perfectly. My gaze darted over his body, from head to toe, then settled on his face.

He stared at me, every part of me, participating in a similar examination of his own. Finally, he met my gaze and exhaled. “Jesus,” he said.

“Erika, actually,” I replied.

He gave a raw chuckle. “You look fucking amazing.”

“Told you,” Luna called from the kitchen.

“Roommate?” Noah asked.

“Possible Russian spy,” I replied, nodding.

“Then we’d better get out of here before she attaches a bug to your handbag.”

“Too late,” Luna yelled, again, in that breathy never-too-loud tone. “Bye, girl, have a good night. And you, uh, doctor dude. You watch your ass, all right?”

“I’ll try,” he muttered, once again running his gaze over my body. I prickled all over and took a step toward him. “Ready to go?” Noah asked.

I nodded again. It was too difficult to talk with him this close by and this friggin’ gorgeous. We walked together toward the elevator at the end of the short hall. “This is a nice building,” Noah said. “You lived here long?”

“Uh, just since I got the job. Luna put me up, since I’m in the process of getting my shit together. Otherwise I’d be out on my ass. You know how my mom and dad are about paying their bills instead of ours.”

“Right,” Noah said, “Marc told me about that. He said he built everything from scratch himself. No start-up loan from the ’rents, hardly any support.”

“That’s right. The only thing they helped us with was our education. The rest was up to us. Don’t get me wrong, they probably would’ve taken me in if I’d returned to Syracuse…”

“Yeah, but what thirty-four-year-old wants to do that?” Noah asked.

“None I know. Not willingly at least. So, Luna’s it is, until I’ve got enough saved up to put down money on an apartment.” I hazarded a smile. This topic was way too close to home, and I couldn’t picture myself talking to Noah in a hallway about what had happened with Jason.

Could I even picture myself talking to him about it at all?

Thankfully, he didn’t follow up on that line of questioning. Instead, we entered the elevator and took it down to the ground floor. Five minutes later, we were on our way to whichever place he’d chosen for us. His thigh was pressed against mine, and I couldn’t help the sense of overwhelm threatening me.

Touching him was a bad fucking idea. This entire night was a bad fucking idea.

“This is it,” Noah said, as we pulled up outside a club. The words “Havana Nights” flashed in red above the door. “Salsa club. You’re going to love it.” He slipped out of the cab and around to my side, then let me out. He paid the driver, took my arm, and walked me toward the door.

The bouncer gave Noah a thumbs-up and let us past the long line outside without another word. How many other women had he brought to this club? How many had he danced with and felt up? It doesn’t matter. This isn’t a date.

Inside, the air was close, a little smoky, and the thump of music, the strum of guitar, filled the open spaces with sound and sex. People danced out on the floor, some grinding into each other, other swinging wide and pulling off moves I’d only ever seen on TV.

We grabbed a table in the back, small, lit by a kerosene lantern, and sat down side by side, our backs to the cushy booth’s seat.

“What do you think?” Noah yelled.

“I think this is going to make it difficult to talk,” I replied, loudly.

Noah leaned in and brushed fingers up my neck. He blocked my ear with his thumb, then leaned in and spoke again. “Not really,” he said, and though he spoke normally, it was loud and clear. “You just gotta know how to hold a conversation. And be comfortable with it.”

Comfortable with it? My nipples were at full attention. Down, girls.

I turned and plugged his ear with my finger, leaning in close, brushing up against him, maybe a little intentionally. “This is your idea of a fun night out with a friend?”

He nodded, then raised two fingers for a waitress. She sauntered over and gave him fuck-me eyes while she took our drinks order. I settled for a light beer—last thing I needed was to have my inhibitions lowered around Dr. Cox. Already, the vibe in the club had gotten to me. I was just about ready to grind with him on the dance floor, even though I’d sworn I wouldn’t do any such thing.

He leaned in again, his skin on my skin. “Relax, Erika. I’m not trying to get under your skirt. I just wanted you to experience something new.”

I risked a small smile. It was sweet of him. And it was the perfect way to blow off steam, given that I was relatively patient-free at the start of my tenure with St. Katherine’s. This would likely be the only time I could look back on that wouldn’t be jam-packed with appointments or in the delivery room.

“Thanks,” I said back. Our drinks arrived, and we sipped on them steadily, and in silence. Had he manufactured tonight so we wouldn’t have to talk too much? I appreciated that. I wasn’t ready to share much of myself with anybody, especially not Noah.

He downed the last of his drink, then got up and held out his hand to me. “You ready?” he asked.

I hesitated but took his hand. He swept me down the steps and onto the lowered dance floor, just as the music shifted to something a little more modern: “Wild Thoughts” by Rihanna.

Oh god, here we go.

Noah held me close, pressed one hand to my lower back, just above my ass and rested the other near the straps of my dress. “Sway,” he said, and showed me. “Like this, see.”

We swayed together. Noah taught me a few steps and I followed them, shocked at the fact that he was into this kind of thing. The jock doctor who enjoyed salsa dancing. And hates your guts. Teases you. Makes your mouth water.

My red dress against his white shirt. My arms around his neck. Hips swaying, my abdomen pressing into his. I worked my body against his, and we maintained eye contact as he swung me out and back into his arms.

People moved around us, but I didn’t notice them, couldn’t think. There was just us in this moment, the heat, sweat dripping down the back of my neck, his dark eyes on mine, his fingers stroking lower and lower until they took my ass cheek and squeezed.

I pressed my breasts against his chest, felt the muscles through his shirt, lost my breath. He dragged his nose across my cheek, nipped at my chin. The guitar tinkled around us, the heavy beat of the bass thrummed through me.

Too late to turn back now.

I looked up at him, my nose touching his now, and he leaned in for the kiss. The kiss that would surely break me, once and for all.

My handbag buzzed against my side, slung as it was over my shoulder, and I jumped, took a step back. Just like that, the moment was broken, and I was back to reality. Noah cleared his throat, gestured back to our table, then took my hand.

We hurried back, and I took my seat, slipping my phone out of my bag and glancing at the screen. “It’s Luna!” I yelled. “I gotta take this.” There wasn’t a good reason she’d interrupt me tonight—since she was convinced this was my shot with Noah.

“I’ll come with you.”

I hurried outside, Noah right behind me, and halted on the sidewalk. The air was cool out here, and it was still loud, but much quieter than the club had been. “Shoot, I missed the call.” But no sooner had I said the words than another call from Luna came through. “Hello?” I pressed the phone to my ear. “Luna?”

“Erika!” she wheezed. “You have to get back to the apartment. There’s been an accident.”

“What type of accident?” I asked, but she’d already hung up. I’d never heard her in a panic before, and that fact alone gave me chills.

“Problem?” Noah asked.

“Yeah. Something’s wrong with Luna. I’ve got to get back to the apartment, right now.”

“I’ll hail a cab,” Noah said and stepped up to the sidewalk’s edge. There wasn’t a question as to whether he’d come with me or not. He’d simply assumed that he’d tag along, that I needed him around. And for once, I was grateful.