He turned his head so that they were eye to eye, his lips mere inches from hers. He said nothing for a moment, and neither did she, and he became very aware of the catch in her breath, the warmth of her hand on his shoulder.

Kyle felt a sudden urge to pull her closer. He’d teased her in the diner about their kiss, but unless he was wholly off his game after those four months in prison, the vibe he was getting from her right then was very real. If he bent his head just the slightest, he could brush his lips over hers. Find out if she tasted as good as she did in his memory.

“How are we doing on that eight-minute stretch of getting along?” he asked huskily.

Rylann stayed where she was at first, their lips still so close. Then she cocked her head and met his gaze. “Time’s up.”

She pulled back from him and turned and walked away, the roar of the L train fading as it passed by overhead.

BACK IN THE safety of her office, Rylann shut the door behind her and exhaled.

That had been a little too close for comfort.

As a lawyer, there were certain lines she would never cross, and getting involved with a trial witness was definitely one of them. She and Kyle might exchange a few quips here and there, there may even have been a reference to a nine-year-old kiss, but as long as she needed his testimony in the Brown matter, that was as far as things could go.

She ran her hands through her hair, collecting herself, then took a seat at her desk. Welcoming the distraction of work, she checked her messages, first her voicemail and then she turned to her computer. She had just begun to scroll through her unread e-mails when she saw something that caught her completely by surprise.

A message from Jon.

There was no subject, and she hesitated to click to the message, not wanting its contents to show up on her preview pane. First, she needed a minute to process this unexpected development.

She checked the calendar on her desk, realizing that in one week it would officially be six months since she’d had any contact with him. By mutual agreement, they had decided not to call or e-mail each other, thinking that would make it easier on both of them to get over the breakup. Yet here he was, changing things up.

Normally very decisive in her actions, Rylann caught herself debating her next move. Part of her was tempted to delete the e-mail without reading it, but that seemed too bitter. And though she certainly had mixed emotions about the fact that Jon had reached out to her, she was pleased to realize that bitterness wasn’t one of them. Plus, heaven forbid he was e-mailing to tell her some kind of bad news. In that case, she’d feel horrible if she never replied.

But beyond that, there was a small part of her that was curious. Did he miss her? As practical minded as she liked to think she was, the idea that there might be a man somewhere out there who was pining for her, potentially wracked with guilt and angst over the demise of their relationship, a man who’d spent hours pouring his heart and soul into this sentimental missive sitting unopened in her inbox between an e-mail from a DEA agent she worked with—subject: “Need a subpoena ASAP”—and an e-mail from Rae—subject: “OMG—DID YOU WATCH THE GOODWIFE LAST NIGHT???”—was heady indeed.

So she clicked on the message.

Rylann read the entire e-mail, then sat back in her chair to contemplate its meaning. Given that this was their first correspondence in nearly six months, it would be tempting to read too much into Jon’s every word. Luckily, he had been thoughtful enough to spare her from the rigors of that exercise.

After three years of dating, a year of living together, and six months of being apart, he’d written one word to her.

HI.

Thirteen

“HI ? THAT’S IT?”

Rylann grabbed another carrot stick and dipped it into the hummus plate she and Rae had ordered. “Yep. That’s all he wrote.” She waived the carrot in the air. “What does that even mean? Hi.”

“It means he’s a jackass.”

Rae had always possessed a talent for getting to the heart of the matter.

“Is this his way of testing the waters or something?” Rylann asked. “He throws out a hi to see if I’ll write back?”

“Well, for one thing, it’s a sign that he’s thinking about you,” Rae said.

The bartender returned with their martinis—between the interview with Kyle and Jon’s stupid Hi, Rylann had called for an emergency post-work happy hour at a bar in between her and Rae’s offices.

She chewed her carrot stick, musing over Rae’s comment. Then she shook her head. “You know what? I’m not going down this road again. I’ve already spent plenty of time analyzing and second-guessing every word of my last few conversations with Jon.” That had been stage one of her six-month plan to get over the breakup—a stage that had gone nowhere.

“Cheers to that.” Rae clinked her glass to Rylann’s and took a sip of her French martini. “So are you going to write back to him?”

“Sure. How about ‘Bye’?”

Rae laughed. “Probably not the response he was hoping for. But over the last six months, Jon has displayed a shockingly poor ability to read you. I guess we shouldn’t be too surprised by this.”

“More than six months, since we obviously hadn’t been on the same page about our relationship leading up to the Italy thing,” Rylann pointed out.

Rae snorted in agreement. “How he ever thought you were going to go for that idea, I have no clue.”

Rylann had expressed that very sentiment on several occasions since the breakup, but something about the way Rae said it made her feel as though she needed to clarify something. “Right. Because I would’ve been a fool at this point in my life to quit my job and follow some guy to Italy who can’t commit to marrying me.”