Prologue

ONE YEAR AGO

One thing nobody had warned Taylor Carr to be prepared for on her first day on a new job at the country’s top-selling men’s magazine?

The eye candy.

As in lots and lots of the hottest guys she’d ever seen, each one better dressed and more charming than the last.

Taylor liked to consider herself a no-nonsense kind of girl. Had probably been called a ballbuster behind her back once or twice.

But here amid the suit-wearing perfection that was the men of Oxford magazine, she felt a little . . .

Breathless.

Perhaps she should have been prepared. She’d interviewed for the job with Alex Cassidy, the editor in chief who would be her boss.

As far as male specimens went, it didn’t get much hotter than the green-eyed, dark-haired brand of tall dark and handsome that Alex Cassidy had going on.

But even if the title of boss hadn’t marked him off-limits already, the gold wedding band marked him as a look but don’t touch.

Little did she know that Cassidy was the rule, not the exception. So far on her tour of the office, she’d met at least a half dozen guys who qualified as perfect tens in her book.

Taylor wasn’t ashamed to admit she had a type. She liked her men polished, successful, and quick-witted, and so far the guys at Oxford ticked all her boxes.

She tried to remind herself that she was above this.

That she’d practically been raised in high heels, was professional enough to rise above ogling her colleagues, and that her aunt would be absolutely appalled if Taylor’s only impression of her first day was “cute boys” and not world domination.

But damn if Taylor wasn’t just a little disappointed by how many of them either had wedding rings or had given her the polite welcome of a man whose heart—and body—was otherwise engaged.

“I hate to do this on your first day, but okay if I hand off the rest of your tour? I’ve got a meeting in five that I tried to get out of, but—”

Taylor waved her hand at Alex Cassidy. “Please. Don’t worry about it. Just point me toward someone who can show me where the coffee is kept and give me a couple lunch recommendations, and I’ll have everything I need.”

The editor in chief had spent the past fifteen minutes taking her around the office, making introductions, doing the typical we’re like a family speech, although she had to admit that, based on what she’d seen, it did feel a bit like a family.

Cassidy smiled. “That I can do. And I know just the person.”

Taylor braced for another obnoxiously attractive man, but the small office Cassidy led her to belonged to a woman. A pretty twentysomething with blond hair, bright blue eyes, and a friendly smile.

“Brit, this is Taylor Carr. She’s starting today with the advertising team. Taylor, this is Brit Robbins, digital marketing extraordinaire.”

Brit smiled. “Welcome! Fab shoes,” she said with an approving look at Taylor’s Jimmy Choos.

“Annnnd, that’s my cue,” Cassidy joked, already backing out of the office. “You mind showing Taylor the rest of the office? Specifically, where she can find coffee.”

“Should I also tell her the coffee sucks because you won’t replace the machine?” Brit called after an already retreating Cassidy.

He didn’t respond, and Brit turned her attention back to Taylor, giving her a once-over that was unabashed but friendly. “So. Please don’t think me forward, but there’s a shocking lack of stylish women around this place. Any chance you want to be best friends and talk about boys?”

Taylor laughed in surprised pleasure.

She had never been much of a girls’ girl.

Growing up she’d been almost painfully shy in that way that other kids interpreted as standoffish. By high school, her aunt’s icy demeanor had rubbed off on Taylor enough that the other girls’ avoidance of her hadn’t hurt—much.

College had gotten better. She’d joined a sorority, learned how to play nice with the other girls, so to speak. She’d also learned that for every competitive, catty woman out there, there was another perfectly nice, loyal friend to be had.

Still, she could count her really good female friends on one hand, and none of them lived in New York. She was definitely due for a local BFF.

Taylor leaned forward and lowered her voice to a whisper. “So I’m not the only one who noticed.”

“That we live in the headquarters of hot guys? No, trust me. I spent the first six months trying to remember to wipe away the drool. I was basically HR’s worst nightmare.”

“No dating among colleagues?”

Brit shrugged as she picked up her cellphone and gestured for Taylor to follow her down the hallway. “As far as I know, it’s not an official rule, I just know I lack the emotional maturity to handle a workplace romance.”

“Not even a holiday-party hookup?”

“Nah, but trust me, if Lincoln Mathis looked my way twice, I’d break all my own rules.”

“Yeah, I met him. He’s . . .” Taylor broke off, trying to figure out how to describe the black-haired, blue-eyed journalist Cassidy had introduced her to earlier.

“There are no words,” Brit finished for Taylor. “No words for someone that good-looking.”

“He got a girlfriend?”

Brit shrugged. “Not sure. He’s got a reputation as a ladies’ man, but so did most of the guys in the editorial group before they settled down.”

“Is there a big division between the editorial group and the rest of us?” Taylor asked.

“Everyone’s friendly, but mostly it’s the columnists on one side of the building, the operations and strategy group on the other.”

“Any chance the guys on the operations and strategy side of things are more human-looking?” Taylor joked.

Brit lifted her finger and gestured to a door to their right. “Ladies’ room, in case Cassidy forgot to point it out. But no, we’ve got our fair share of hotties on our side too, although I’d rather die than admit it to Hunter.”

“Hunter Cross?” Taylor asked.

Brit glanced over. “My best guy friend. You know him?”

“Just by name. It was a big deal he left a VP role at his last marketing firm to take a lesser title here.”

“Please don’t tell him that,” Brit said in a joking tone. “He’s insufferable enough as it is.”

Good-looking too. Taylor had never met him in person, but based on his headshot, Hunter Cross likely blended in very nicely with the Oxford crew.

“There are two kitchen/break room areas,” Brit was saying. “You in an office or the bullpen?”

“Office,” Taylor said.

The bullpen was an affectionate term given to an “open office,” where instead of individual offices, employees worked alongside each other without doors separating them. Typically allotted to more junior employees, or groups whose functions require collaboration over privacy.

“Well, should you ever need to find anyone in the bullpen, welcome to the center of it all.” Brit stopped and lifted her hands in front of her, gesturing to the bustling scene in front of them.

Men still dominated the room, although there were more women on this side than over in the editorial group, which had been mostly hot guys in their private offices.

Plenty of them glanced up at her and Brit, their gazes friendly but curious. She gave a smile, refusing to feel shy even though she hated being the newcomer—hated feeling vulnerable in any way, for fear that someone would see right through her confident shield and call her out as a fraud. To expose her as what she really was on the inside: lonely. Maybe a little unlovable, if one wanted to get melodramatic about it.

To get ahead of it, Taylor lifted her chin and pasted a smile on her face, not quite haughty, just . . . distant. The kind of smile that kept people from getting too close before she could decide if she wanted them to get close.

“Okay, last stop, kitchen, then I’m taking you out for lunch and we’re ordering wine, and we’ll tell nobody,” Brit said, touching Taylor’s arm to get her attention.

This time Taylor’s smile was real. Either Brit didn’t buy Taylor’s keep your distance vibes, or she didn’t care and had already decided to make good on her best friend threat.

Taylor found she didn’t mind in the least. She liked the other woman, who was friendly without being sugary.

Taylor started to follow Brit when she felt a pair of eyes on her. As the new girl, she already knew there were lots of eyes on her, but this gaze was different—she could feel it.

She turned her head slightly, scanning the room until she found the source.

She knew the second her gaze collided with his.

The man watching her was everything the other guys at Oxford weren’t. His dark hair was a touch too long, his jawline apparently not fond of a razor. His white dress shirt could have been like the rest of the guys’, but instead of pairing it with a tie and suit jacket, the man had a button undone, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

If he stood, Taylor wouldn’t have been surprised in the least to see the shirt untucked.

None of that bothered her so much as the eyes. Not the color—she thought they were brown, although he was too far away to know for sure—no, what bugged her was the way he watched her.

Not quite smirking, but knowing. As though he was the one person in the room who got her, and wanted her to know it.

Taylor whipped her head away, but as she turned, she could have sworn she saw him laugh. At her.

Taylor lifted her chin and continued after Brit, telling herself it didn’t matter. The guy wasn’t even close to her type, and chances were their paths would never cross.

She strode away from the bullpen without giving in to the urge to turn around, see him one last time.

She didn’t.

But it bothered her that she wanted to.