As if she could feel him the way he could always feel her, she glanced up and their gazes met. He lifted a hand but she didn’t acknowledge him, though he was positive she’d seen him because she stilled for a beat.

Her eyes were hidden behind sunglasses but he knew her now and read her body language clear enough. Uncertain. Unhappy. Her clothes hid her luscious curves but it didn’t matter. He knew every inch of her by heart. Knew how she felt. Tasted. Knew what it was like to have her pressed against him with nothing between them, to be buried so deep inside her they were one, her limbs wrapped around him like she was afraid to let him go.

So he also knew she didn’t want to be walking with this guy. Not that that stopped her, as after another heartbeat, she turned away and picked up their pace.

Colbie was furious with Jackson for hunting her down. Not only had he tracked her phone, he’d also used her chief research source from the NYPD to do it.

When he’d shown up at her door, she refused to make a scene. Instead, acutely aware that Spence was asleep in her bed, she’d gone with Jackson downstairs to find a place to talk in private. She’d figured the coffee shop would do it but Elle, Kylie, and Haley had been in there, so she’d quickly turned away. Jackson said he only wanted to talk, but she had a feeling he’d really rather fight, so she allowed him to guide her out of the courtyard because she didn’t want witnesses for this.

The Pacific Pier Building was everything she loved. Interesting, quirky, cozy . . . a community within a community. But all those things also made it something she hadn’t realized until that very moment—basically, a very small town, complete with the small-town clichés.

There were no secrets here.

She and Jackson had nearly made it across the courtyard when she’d caught sight of Spence at what she was pretty sure was his office window, watching them. It’d been impossible to read his expression from that distance and that was probably just as well. She rushed Jackson along. They crossed the street in silence and stepped into another coffee shop, one where she, thankfully, didn’t recognize another soul.

“What can I get you?” Jackson asked, gesturing to the menu on the wall.

She crossed her arms. “The reason why you’re here.”

Apparently deciding that she wasn’t playing, he sighed. “Sit. I’ll be right back.”

He returned with a hot Earl Grey tea and a banana nut muffin, both her favorites—which was not going to fix her mood. “What are you doing here, Jackson?”

“At least sip the caffeine so I have a chance of surviving this meeting,” he said.

She blew out a sigh and sipped her tea.

“We were worried about you,” he said quietly. “Me. Your family. Janeen and Tracy.”

“I sent you all daily texts assuring you that I was fine, that I’d come home by Christmas Eve. You had no right to go all Sherlock on me and hunt me down and just show up like this.”

“No right?” he asked in disbelief. “Okay, forgetting everything else for a minute—including why you’re mad at me—you’re two months late on delivering a manuscript. Who do you think your publisher is hounding every day? Me, the agent!”

“So that’s why you’re here?” she asked. “To see how your investment is paying off? To make sure I’m working? I told you, Jackson, God, for months and months I told you that I was in a bad place, that I needed a break. You kept saying it was okay for me to take one, that you agreed I needed to get away.”

“I meant me,” Jackson said. “I agreed you needed to take a break from your feelings for me.”

She stared at him and then let out a breath and leaned back in her chair. “Wow.”

“Colbie—”

“No, hold on. So you think this is about you?”

“Are you going to tell me it’s not?”

“H-E-double-hockey-sticks yes!”

He sat back and shook his head. “Listen, I get that you’re butthurt about what you saw that night, and believe me, I’m sorry you saw it at all.”

“But not that it happened,” she noted with far more calm than she felt.

He looked away for a beat and then met her gaze again, his own deep and dark with regret. And temper. “Keeping this about business for a minute. You realize that you’re not the only one on the line here, right? This is my career too. And I’m expected to get you to interviews, signings, and other appearances to coincide with the movie release, Colbie—which is premiering in a week.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“I don’t know, you tell me,” he said. “You’ve refused any appearances at all, saying you’d only do e-mail interviews and posts.”

“That’s not so rare, you know. Writers write. Let the actors push the movie. No one needs to see or hear the bumbling author of the books that the movie is based on. What you’re not getting and not hearing is that I was in real trouble. I couldn’t write a damn chapter, much less a whole book.”

His expression softened and he reached across the table to cover her hand with his. “See, that’s why you shouldn’t be all the way across the country from your support team. Too many outside stressors.”

“The stressors came from my support team,” she said. “All I asked for was a few weeks away. I just wanted, needed, things to go back to where it all started for me, okay? To before I was too stressed to be creative.” She stood. “Coming here to San Francisco was the best thing I’ve ever done for myself. And actually, it’s the only thing I’ve done for myself in . . . well, ever. I just needed to go back to being that writer who was in love with writing, instead of my stomach churning in knots with tension and dread every time I turned on my laptop or got an e-mail requesting another live interview.”

Jackson stood and grabbed her hand before she could walk away. “Look, I know it’s been a whirlwind—”

“No, you’re not hearing me. You don’t understand—”

“Then help me understand,” he said. “You walked away from everything when you left, not just your work. You have responsibilities, Colbie, and—”

“Wait, are you kidding me?” she asked, tugging her hand free as anger spiked hard and hot inside her.

“Your mom called,” he said. “She wants to get the house ready for Christmas but doesn’t know how to do that without you. And Kent didn’t want to tell you, but he banged up his car for the third time and needs to know whether he should notify the insurance, or do you want to pay for it and avoid a claim? Oh, and Janeen and Tracy are on pins and needles wondering about their usual Christmas bonus but don’t want to ask you directly.”

No. Hell no was he doing this here, now, bringing guilt into her secret getaway. “I’ll deal with it,” she said. “All of it. Go home, Jackson.”

“And what about us?” he asked. “You going to put us on hold to deal with later too? I used to be more important to you than that.”

She whipped back and pointed at him. “There is no us, not like that. And even if there was, how dare you try to use our past like that, reminding me how I felt about you as if maybe it would turn me back into that sweet, quiet yes-girl. The one who was so excited about her career under your care that she’d do whatever you ask of her. Because she’s not here anymore, Jackson. You don’t run my private life or get to lecture me on what you think are my responsibilities. You lost all those privileges after you—” She broke off and shook her head. “You know what? Never mind. Because this isn’t about you. None of this is about you.”

“The hell it isn’t,” he said. “It’s about what happened between you and me.”

“Oh, you mean when you led me on, letting me think that you liked me too?”

“You had a crush,” he said. “We both knew that’s all it was.”

“No,” she said. “We didn’t.”

He sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face. “Look, okay, yes. Yes, I knew you had a crush on me, and yes, I let it go on too long. I thought you needed the crush to write.”