But his smile had faded, and he was preoccupied as he drew absent circles with the top of his finger against her shoulder. “That thing you told my mom and sisters in the kitchen …”

She scrunched up her face. “When? What?”

“You said that you weren’t here because of the story. You said you liked me.”

Her stomach clenched. Oh. That.

Jake slowly moved one of his hands until it encircled her wrist, his thumb resting lightly against her pulse, which she knew was in overdrive.

His gaze collided with hers. “Did you mean it?”

She opened her mouth, but no words came out. What could she possibly say while lying beneath him in the backseat of a car, na**d?

That she hadn’t meant it? That she’d lied to his family, and that she planned to write all about this little encounter on the blog?

But she couldn’t very well tell him to his face that she did mean it. She’d bet her left ovary that Jake Malone was a pro at giving easy, kind set-downs to overassuming women, and she had no intention of receiving one of those pretty dismissals.

So instead she met his gaze steadily and went for a compromise.

“I like you,” she said, watching his eyes go warm even as they went wary. His thumb skittered across her wrist in a gentle flicking motion.

“But,” Grace said, adding iron to her voice, “I also like baby tigers and hot fudge and too much wine, and a whole other slew of things that aren’t good for me. So you don’t have to worry about me chasing you when this is over.”

And it would be over.

Soon.

“I like you too,” Jake said, his expression once again easy and relaxed. “And Grace … you’re a very close second to Hannah Tanner.”

Then he stifled her outraged shriek with a very, very long kiss.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Two weeks later, things were still going almost alarmingly well. Far too well for a non-relationship that was supposed to be ending.

Grace almost wished that their respective bosses had stuck with the straightforward five-dates-in-five-months routine. This whole website business had muddied the waters by forcing Grace and Jake into a more intimate day-to-day interaction.

Forcing, my ass, 2.0 muttered.

It was true. Grace liked nothing better than seeing his face first thing most mornings, and falling asleep beside him most nights.

She was in serious trouble.

“How do you feel about takeout?” Jake asked.

Grace dropped her purse onto her counter and immediately kicked off the magenta peep-toe stilettos that she was trying to break in but were currently hell on her arches.

“Hate it,” she said, tucking the phone beneath her hear and pouring some water.

There was a beat of silence on the other line. “Really?”

Grace rolled her eyes. “Seriously? No, of course I don’t hate takeout. Does anybody actually hate takeout?”

“Health nuts, maybe.”

“This is New York. You can get anything delivered, even organic, vegan, and gluten-free.”

“You know what else can be delivered?” Jake asked. “Chinese.”

“You know, I’ve heard that,” Grace said, making her way into the bedroom to change into her comfy clothes. “Is that your exciting plan for tonight?”

“Eventually,” Jake said. “Was going to swing by a few of the midtown bars first. See if I can’t find any women interested in a little Jake Malone special.”

Grace fingers clenched around the yoga pants she’d just pulled out of her dresser, feeling a bit like she’d just been kicked in the chest.

Had he seriously just informed her that he was going to sleep with another woman tonight?

And why not? 2.0 asked. You’re not in a relationship. You’re colleagues with a shared work objective who now have regular sleepovers, which I distinctly remember frowning upon …

Grace knew 2.0 was right, of course. But the more time Grace spent with Jake—and there’d been a lot of that lately—the more 1.0 kept surging forward.

And considering that 1.0 was a monogamous believer in happily-ever-after, Grace needed to keep 1.0 far, far away from Jake.

“Grace?”

“Huh?”

“You know I was joking, right?”

She froze in mid-yoga-pants wiggle. “You were?”

He gave a soft laugh. “Jesus, Grace. What do you think of me?”

“I think you’re a dedicated bachelor who’s never been in a real relationship and has no interest in trying.”

“I see. Then what is it that we’re doing here?”

Her heart began to pound. “We’re posing as a couple for the sake of the story?”

Grace 2.0 nodded in agreement.

“And the sex?” Jake asked.

“Is excellent.”

“It is. So is the rest of it.”

Grace dropped her blouse in the dry-cleaning pile. “What are you trying to say here, Jake?”

He made a little sound of exasperation. “This phone call is not going as planned.”

“You had a plan?”

“Yes,” he grumbled. “I was trying to ask you over for Chinese food.”

“You want to have dinner together? At your place?” Grace 1.0 tittered. They’d always hung out at her place, and this definitely marked the first time he suggested she come over. It felt important somehow.

“It was supposed to be simple and casual,” he muttered.

“Just like we’re supposed to be?” she asked with a smile.

“Yeah, and look how well that’s going.”

“You know, there was a better way to start this conversation if that was what you were after. Maybe you could’ve skipped the reference to other women?”

“I was being suave.”

“No, you were being vague. Next time, try ‘Hey, Grace, want to come over and order Chinese?’ ”

“That has no game.”

“Exactly.”

He sighed. “Grace.”

“Yeah?”

“Come over.”

She smiled at the impatience in his voice. “I just changed my clothes.”

“So?”

“So … I look … sloppy.”

“Good.”

“You’re not the type of guy that women wear their comfy clothes around.”

Silence. “Well, maybe I want to be.”

Go, 2.0 whispered quietly.

Grace froze. Whaaaat?

Surely 2.0 wasn’t turning on her. She needed 2.0 to keep her distance. Needed 2.0 to remind her why she absolutely, positively could not have feelings for Jake.

“The food will be here in thirty,” he said. “I’m texting you my address. If you’re not here before the food, everyone on the website will know all about that jaguar noise you make when you come.”

He clicked off before she had a comeback, and she stared in dismay at her cell phone.

She pulled the neckline of her T-shirt out to take a quick look at her bra. Ugly. The panties were even worse.

But they were comfy. And there was no guarantee he’d see them anyway, since Chinese food was hardly synonymous with foreplay. Maybe he just wanted a dining companion.

Both 1.0 and 2.0 snickered at that one.

Okay, fine. If she was going to do this au naturel thing, she was really doing it. No touching up of makeup, no changing of clothes …

She pulled on her oldest tennis shoes. Let’s see what Jake Malone thinks of this Grace. Maybe he’d regret not picking up bar bunnies after all.

Or maybe not, someone whispered. Was it 1.0 or 2.0? She didn’t even know anymore.

She glanced at her watch. Twenty-four minutes until the food arrived. Could she make it to midtown by then?

Maybe. Hopefully.

She grabbed her purse, mentally gearing herself up to fight for a taxi if necessary. She didn’t really think Jake would describe her sexual noises on the website if she was late, but one never knew with that guy.

Grace opened the door with a smile on her face only to have the smile crack into a million pieces at the person on the other side.

“Hey Gracie.”

“Hi, Greg,” she croaked out.

He gave her the old familiar smile, but he looked … sad.

“Can I come in?”

No. Right? Was that the right answer? She desperately tried to call upon 2.0, but 2.0 was nowhere to be found.

It was just 1.0. The one who’d once wanted to walk down the aisle and have babies with this man.

Grace stepped aside. “Sure. Come in.”

* * *

“What are you doing here?” Grace asked as she mechanically pulled a bottle of chardonnay from the fridge and poured them each a glass.

He accepted it, his fingers casually brushing hers like old times. And just like old times, she barely noticed.

“Got your address from your mom.”

“My mother is furious with you,” Grace said, frowning.

He dipped his head. “As she should be. But I told her my reason for coming, and she relented.”

“Great!” Grace said with a fake chipper smile. “Now you can tell me why you’re here.”

“I like the new place,” he said, ignoring her question and roaming around her living room. “It suits you.”

“Yeah, I’ve really found that the lack of other women’s panties agrees with me.”

She waited for the you’re-being-childish look that she was so used to. Or maybe even an exasperated Graaace, as though she were the one with the problem.

Instead, she saw him swallow, his head dropping so that his chin almost rested on his chest for several seconds before he nodded once.

Grace’s curiosity was piqued. No self-defense? No justification?

“How’s work?”

Grace almost smiled. How many times had they absently asked each other that question over the years? It was such a long-term-couple kind of thing to ask, usually with the expectation that the other person will respond with fine, because rarely was the workday any different than the previous day, or the one before that …

“Fine,” she replied.

“I heard they’ve got you doing some dating blog type of thing. A little different from your usual stuff.”

Grace rolled her shoulders. “Yeah, well … the long-term relationship stuff has sort of lost its luster for me.”

Again, there was no defense. No pompous lecture. And again with that lost-boy look.

“Why are you here, Greg?” she asked softly.

He turned back toward her then, and the regret on his face made her palms tingle.

She knew then why he was here. And she had no idea how she felt about it.

“I believe they call it ‘crawling back,’ ” he said with a sheepish smile.

Grace said nothing. She was too busy trying to sort it all out. Every scorned woman probably dreamed of this moment, and Grace was no different. In those first weeks when he’d confessed to the affair and her life had become one big blur of crying and packing her things, she’d done her fair share of fantasizing about the moment when he crawled back.

It was the same moment when she was supposed to walk away, head held high.

And yet now that he was here the moment felt oddly hollow. Where was the self-righteous anger, or even the self-satisfied glee that it was her chance to turn his life upside down?

Hell, Grace would even take ripping pain over this melancholy regret.

“Let’s not do this, Greg,” she said, feeling weary.

He came to her then, gently taking her hand and leading her to the couch. “Just hear me out. Please.”

And perhaps she wasn’t as immune as she’d thought, because the pleading in his blue eyes and familiarity of his once dear features seemed to hold her hostage. The girl that had fallen in love with the boy he used to be demanded that she hear him out.

He sat in the chair next to her, pulling it nearer until he could continue to hold her hands. She wanted to jerk her fingers out of his grip, but she seemed paralyzed. And 1.0 was saying she owed it to the past ten years to listen, while 2.0 was still nowhere to be found.

“I made a mistake.”

“Yes.”

“I … I’m not seeing Maureen anymore. Not for weeks.”

“I don’t know what that has to do with me,” she said softly.

“Yes you do,” he said, his eyes searching hers. “I want you back, Grace.”

She’d known the words were coming, and still they hung between the two of them like unwanted leftovers that someone forgot to put back in the fridge.

“You’re a cheater, Greg. Not just a one-time slip-up, either. You were sleeping with another woman for months. And you were lying about it.”

He swallowed. “I know. I know. And I know I have absolutely no right to ask for a second chance, and I owe you an explanation, and I don’t really have one beyond I’m such an idiot …”

Even 1.0 could agree with that.

“I think I flipped out there for a while because we’d become so settled, and neither one of us had really been with anyone else, and for some reason I thought that was a bad thing …”

“So not helping your case,” she muttered.

“But now I see that us being together the way we were wasn’t boring, it was right. We’re right. We want the same things, we’re practically the same person …”

Grace held up a finger at that. “We’re not the same person. I never would have cheated.”

Greg gave her a sad smile then. “No, you never would have. You’re too good.”

“Yeah, and just look how well that’s worked out for me. Single and bitter.”