Page 2 of Not on the Same Page

Even more uncomfortable under his scrutiny, I clear my throat. “Unless what?”

His smirk drops right off his face, and he looks up at the ceiling. “Ryan was one of only a handful of people who knew Scarlett’s identity. And she did leave him high and dry five years ago. If he’s still angry⁠—”

“No way,” I cut him off. “You’ve seen his face when he talks about her. That man is in love. Probably was never out of love. He’s not giving her up now that he’s got her back in his life. And besides, this would end his career.”

The bedsheets whisper against Casey’s shoulder as he shrugs. His gaze flicks to me and quickly back to the ceiling again. “People do strange things when they feel spurned. Only thing we can do at this point is get to the office and see what’s going on.” Grunting, he sits up and swings his legs over the edge of the bed. He leans forward and grabs a pair of boxers from the floor. The comforter pools around his waist, revealing the curve of his lower body that I’m intimately acquainted with.

“I’ll…um…give you a minute,” he says as he quickly pulls the boxers up over his ass. When I look up, he’s staring down at me, his expression once again unreadable.

Shit. He caught me staring. God, what a mess.

“Okay,” I choke out, barely able to meet his eyes until something occurs to me. “I left my car at the bar last night.” He didn’t drive there at all, so we took a rideshare back to his condo. I was only supposed to stay for a few hours and then make my way back to drive myself home.

I guess the road to Hell really is paved with good intentions.

That earns me a small smile. “That’s way out of the way. We don’t have time to get it. I guess that means we’ll have to drive in together.”

Of course it does. Because exactly what this situation needs is a drive together from Chicago to the Anastasios Press offices in the suburbs. What else could go wrong today?

I shouldn’t have asked because what transpires at the press offices is a complete disaster. Ryan is forced to clear his name by disclosing his relationship with Scarlett, confirming my earlier suspicions. And while I’m not surprised and would love to be happy for them, it is crystal clear that Anastasios is just as angry about one of his editors sleeping with one of his authors as he is about Scarlett being outed. So for the entire meeting, I’m channeling my best agent tricks, trying desperately to cling to some of that elusive work-life balance that keeps slipping through Scarlett’s fingers. But they seem dead set on doing damage control and finding a way to put her in front of as many people as they can to sell as many books as possible—something she has been very clear she’ll never do again—in order to prove to JMP that signing her wasn’t a mistake.

And all the while, I’m internally panicking. Because you know who else isn’t supposed to be sleeping together? An editor and the agent who actively pitches books to him.

We’ve been careful. And the no-feelings rule helps. We won’t fall for each other. Even if we wanted to—which we do not—we can’t. Rejection is part of the literary world, and we can’t make any of this personal without risking our professional relationship.

But my stomach won’t stop flipping over itself with nerves. If we’re found out, it could mean being shut out from ever pitching here again. And I’m sure my job at Northbridge Literary Agency would follow, which cannot happen. I love my job. It’s the most important, most stable thing in my life. I don’t know what I would do if it were taken away from me.

I know better. I knew better months ago when a few drinks and a few more casual touches turned into Casey’s strong arms pinning me up against a wall in the alley outside of a bar last winter, my senses overloaded with the cold brick digging into the skin of my back and the warm softness of his lips on me.

This whole thing with Scarlett will likely mean Ryan loses his job here once he hands his edits over to Casey. And while I’m sure he’ll say something noble about how it’s worth it if he can be with Scarlett, I know that’s the sort of bullshit that will inevitably come back to bite their relationship in the ass. No one in their right mind can keep themselves from resenting the person who cost them a job they love. It’s only a matter of time before one of them being out of work blows up in their faces.

But even through the whole mess, I can’t help but glance at Casey across the conference table. And every time I do, he’s looking at me. Studying me. His face unreadable except for one time, when he looks pained. And I can’t help but wonder if he remembers the same thing I do.

“Stay.”

The moment something shifted, and we almost let it. And now, it’s painfully clear we can’t let that happen again.

So as soon as Scarlett leaves the building and Ryan rushes after her like we all knew he would, I pull Casey to the side of the hallway, my heart in my throat and tears burning at the corners of my eyes.

The tears are for Scarlett. Not Casey.

See? No feelings.

But he beats me to the punch. “We can’t keep doing this,” he whispers, his brown eyes wide. “Ryan is in deep shit for almost the same thing, and I can’t get fired. I need this job too much.”

It doesn’t matter that I was just about to say the same thing, it still stings.

“Right. Yeah. Totally.” I swallow hard. “I was going to say that too.”

Casey blinks a few times, his gaze searching mine. I’m not sure what he’s searching for, but he must find it because he nods. “So we’re on the same page, then? No hard feelings?”

No feelings at all, I tell myself. But I shore up all the confidence I can muster and straighten my shoulders. “Yes,” I say. “We are one hundred percent on the same page.”

1

TRINA

ONE YEAR LATER