Emma didn’t even argue as she shut the front door. It probably was better.

“So why am I annoying?” he asked as she wandered back into the kitchen. He’d already found the wineglasses.

She waved a hand over him. “Just…too good-looking.”

His hand faltered in pouring the wine. Just briefly, but enough for her to know she’d caught him off guard.

“Don’t get excited,” she said, reaching out and plucking a wineglass from his hand. “I point it out as an annoyance because the good looks hide a rather dismal character.”

He blinked and although she’d meant the comment as off-the-cuff and teasing, she had the strangest sense that she’d hurt him.

Then he blinked again, and the moment was over. He clinked his glass against hers and gave her a cocky wink. “You once thought that dismal character was pretty damn alluring.”

Emma’s eyes narrowed “Mmm. That part of my life is all very fuzzy. Shall we?” She gestured toward the living room. She’d done every single one of her interviews there, and she was determined to keep Cassidy’s exactly the same.

To prove to him—and to herself—that he wasn’t special.

The knowing look on his face said he knew exactly what she was about, but he gave a gracious nod. “This is the hot seat, right?” he asked, gesturing to the chair where the other guys had sat, before settling his long frame.

Emma found her spot on the love seat and traded her wineglass for the notebook on the table. “I bet Camille had no idea just how many male butts would be visiting her furniture while she was gone.”

“Have you heard from her?” Cassidy asked. “I’ve gotten a few emails, but all work-related with bossy demands about the magazine.”

Emma shook her head. “She checked in the first week to see if I was settling in okay, but nothing since then.”

“She gets back in a month and a half, right? She’ll miss Julie’s wedding.”

“Yeah, I was surprised about that,” Emma said, picking up her glass and swirling it. “Julie’s been at Stiletto longer than any of us, and Camille’s always been almost a mother figure to her.”

“Was Julie upset that Camille won’t be there?”

“Surprisingly, no. Julie’s turned into a full-on romantic now that she and Mitchell are approaching wedded bliss. I think she’d much rather have Camille off having naked time with her man than making a token appearance at her wedding.”

Cassidy winced. “Camille having naked time? You had to throw that out there? You hate me that much?”

Emma smiled. “You’ll have to read my article to find out about my level of hate. But first…”

Cassidy leaned forward, his expression turning intense. “Right. The questions.”

“Yup. You only get three, just like everyone else. Which you probably know, considering you forced your way into the meetings with Jason and Leroy.”

Leroy was a guy she’d dated for about two weeks when she was feeling especially lonely, and consequently blind to the fact that Leroy was weird. Like, watching-her-sleep weird.

Cassidy had intercepted Leroy in the elevator a few days ago, and Emma had been all too glad when he’d once again crashed her interview.

“Leroy looked a little deranged,” Cassidy said, as though reading her thoughts. “In the elevator he actually referred to you as his ‘illustrious lady love.’ I tagged along to protect you,” Cassidy said.

“Please,” Emma said, giving him a look. “You were there for the entertainment.”

Cassidy grinned. “I admit, I so was not expecting him to burst into tears as he reminisced about the afternoon you two spent at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden.”

“Trust me, he is a man who loved flowers way more than he ever loved me.”

Cassidy studied her. “You don’t seem bothered by that.”

“I’m not,” she said with a shrug. “It takes an awful lot to get under my skin.”

“Since when? You didn’t used to be so—”

“So what?” She leaned forward, matching his posture. “So cold? Unreachable? Bitchy?”

He held her gaze for several moments without answering. Then: “Ask the questions, Emma.”

“Why are you so insistent on this?” she asked.

“Why are you so reluctant?”

“I’m not,” she protested. “I’m just…you know what? Fine. Let’s do this.”

He lifted his glass and settled back in his chair. Emma pulled her notebook onto her lap as she crossed her legs and took a deep breath. “Okay, so I had to tweak the first question for you. With the rest of the guys, I asked for their reaction when I emailed them asking for their participation about story, but since you were the one that forced this upon me—”

“You could have said no,” he interrupted.

She ignored him. “So the revised, special Alex Cassidy version of question one: What was your reaction when I agreed to tell this story?”

Cassidy swirled his wine. “Honestly, I thought for sure you’d say no. You probably should have. As you’ve rightly accused, it was a jerk power move on my part. So I guess, to be completely accurate, you could say surprise was my first reaction. But to be honest, that feels like the cop-out answer.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Because it might have been my first reaction, but it wasn’t the strongest one. Nor the most important.”