by Kelly Rimmer
Copyright © 2020 Lantana Management Pty Ltd
The right of Kelly Rimmer to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
Cover Art Copyright © 2020 by Harlequin Books S.A.
Cover art used by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A. ® and
TM are trademarks owned by Harlequin Books S.A. or its affiliated companies, used under license.
Author photograph © Bree Bain Photography
Published by arrangement with HQN Books,
An imprint of Harlequin, a division of HarperCollins.
First published in this eBook edition in 2020
by HEADLINE ETERNAL
An imprint of HEADLINE PUBLISHING GROUP
Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Cataloguing in Publication Data is available from the British Library
eISBN 978 1 4722 5762 8
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
About the Author
Praise for Kelly Rimmer
By Kelly Rimmer
About the Book
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Epilogue
An exclusive extract from Truths I Never Told You
Don’t miss Unexpected
Discover Unspoken
Look out for The Things We Cannot Say
Find out more about Headline Eternal
About the Author
Kelly Rimmer is the USA Today bestselling women’s fiction author of seven novels. Kelly lives in rural Australia with her family and fantastically naughty dogs, Sully and Basil. Her novels have been translated into more than 20 languages.
For further information about Kelly’s books, and to subscribe to her mailing list, visit www.kellyrimmer.com.
Praise for Kelly Rimmer’s delightful Start Up in the City novels:
‘Rimmer . . . showcases her talent with this sweet, lively contemporary set in New York City . . . the flow is as smooth as the transition of the relationship, and the characters are wildly entertaining. This will delight fans of extremely modern romance’ Publishers Weekly
‘Kelly Rimmer has written one of the most darling love stories I’ve read in a long time . . . If you are looking for a joyous look into a wondrous love story, Unexpected should be at the top of the must-read list. Guaranteed to please’ Fresh Fiction
‘Unexpected is a warm, charming book . . . [with a] terribly cute, sweet friendship-cum-romance between our leads’ All About Romance
‘A friends-to-lovers romance that tugged at my heartstrings’ Romance Junkies
By Kelly Rimmer
Me Without You
The Secret Daughter
When I Lost You
A Mother’s Confession
Before I Let You Go
The Things We Cannot Say
Start Up in the City Series
Unexpected
Unspoken
Undone
About the Book
The only vow she’s prepared to make is not to say ‘I do’ . . .
Running a major tech company without breaking a sweat? No problem. But being bridesmaid at her best friend’s wedding is giving Jess Cohen a bad case of the jitters. Maybe that’s because she’ll have to face the groom’s brother, Jake – the man she’s been avoiding for the last two years, after she dumped him mercilessly, unable to tell him the truth about her past. Jake, who’s loyal, loving and all wrong for someone who refuses to be tied down – if only her heart could remember that.
Jake Winton spent four months secretly dating Jess, and the past two years trying – and failing – to forget the woman he’d been ready to propose to. Now, he’s sure their connection is still there, sizzling and undeniable. Whatever she’s holding back, he can handle – if only she’ll trust him with her secrets, her fears and her heart.
The character of Jess was inspired by
badass women everywhere. If you see something
of yourself in her, then this book is for you.
CHAPTER ONE
Jess
GRANDMA CHLOE, IF you can hear me from wherever you are, you better be proud of me for sticking this out.
My grandmother died four years ago, but I will always live my life by the principles she taught me. She used to say that when your friends or family need you, you move heaven and earth to be there for them. That’s one reason I’m putting myself through the sheer torture of attending a wedding tomorrow—one of my least favorite things to do, by the way, especially in this case, because I’m not just a guest, I’m a bridesmaid. Oh, and did I mention this is the second time I’ve been a bridesmaid for this couple? I’m basically a saint for doing this.
Or maybe I’m doing this because the bride is basically a saint.
Yeah, that’s more like it, and that brings me to the other reason I’m putting myself through this cluster-fuck of a weekend: the bride is my best friend, Isabel.
Isabel has big blue eyes and natural curls in a startling shade of ash blond. She’s recently turned thirty-five, but she looks much younger even on rare occasions like this one, when she’s wearing a full face of makeup. I think her anti-aging secret is her wholesome lifestyle, which is obviously an extreme measure and not one I’d ever be willing to try myself. I’m thirty-five too, but when I’m not wearing makeup, I look like an aged, freckled version of Pippi Longstocking, if Pippi partied way too much in her twenties.
It’s fair to say that Isabel and I are the unlikeliest of friends. She’s sweet, I’m sharp. She’s kind and gentle and softhearted, I’m . . . Well, I’m just not. We’ve had a lot of great times together, but we also have very different approaches to life, and every now and again I wonder why she puts up with me at all. What I don’t wonder about is why I’ve kept her around. Izzy is the lite version of humanity—all of the goodness, none of the calories. She’s easy to love, and for the most part, quite uncomplicated when it comes to her friends—a rare trait, and one I value highly.
I’d be lost without her. Completely, hopelessly lost.
Right now, maybe for th
e first time ever, I wish that Isabel wasn’t an exceptional human being. In fact, I’m wishing that last year, when she abruptly decided to divorce my business partner Paul, I’d have done what I usually do when people around me do something stupid—told her exactly what I was thinking. If I’d been harsh enough, she’d probably have cut me out of her life. Yes, I’d have been lost and miserable and sad and I’d have missed her forever, but then again, even feeling miserable and lost and sad would have been preferable to what I’m feeling right now.
Anxious. I’m anxious, which isn’t like me at all. I have no idea what to do with such an uncomfortable feeling simmering away inside me, and that’s why I’ve decided to drown it in champagne.
Izzy and Paul sorted their shit out—only this happened just a little too late to stop the divorce, and now they want to get remarried. So here we all are, at their brownstone in Chelsea for the rehearsal dinner before their second wedding takes place tomorrow. There are fairy lights and candles and big vases of fragrant white roses on the long table that centers their dining room. There’s soft, orchestral music playing on the speakers. Isabel and Paul are both radiant. It’s all so joyous and romantic that it makes me a little ill.
Don’t get me wrong: I’m utterly delighted that they sorted their shit out and they’re both happy again. It’s just that all of his haste and love and joy and renewal means that instead of ordering my first wine for the night in a bar somewhere and scanning the room for a companion, I’m sitting here chugging champagne like it’s water and watching the door as if it’s about to burst open to reveal some kind of Jess Cohen kryptonite.
Which it kind of is.
Because Paul’s brother Jake is due to arrive any second now, fresh off a flight from the West Coast, where he now lives. And . . . okay. I’m not exactly thrilled about being a part of this wedding party tomorrow, but it’s maybe just a tiny bit possible that my imminent encounter with Jake has more to do with my anxiety than the festivities themselves.
“What’s up with you?” The voice belongs to Marcus, my other business partner, who’s sitting to my right. He speaks quietly—keeping his voice low, no doubt so as not to upset the other members of the wedding party. Paul and Isabel are opposite me, and Abby, Marcus’s fiancée, is in the restroom. She’s very pregnant with twins. As far as I can tell, being very pregnant with twins means you spend half your time looking exhausted and terrified, and the other half peeing.
“What’s up with you?” I snap at him unthinkingly, and he slowly raises an eyebrow.
“Ho-ly shit,” he whistles.
“What?”
“Jessica Cohen—are you upset about something?” The incredulity in his tone suggests that the very idea of this is impossible. I’m kind of pleased that I’ve managed to fool him into thinking I really am some kind of superwoman, and also immediately depressed that one of my best friends has no idea I have any emotional depth at all.
“Mind your own damn business, Marcus.”
His expression grows serious, and he leans even closer to whisper, “Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine.”
“Things are clearly not fine,” Marcus says, frowning. He glances down at my hands, and I realize I’m tapping the table. I stop, but as soon as I do, my knee starts to bounce.
“Seriously, Marcus, leave it,” I whisper back to him, but the words come out as a half growl, half hiss, and he winces.
“Okay, okay,” he says, raising his hands in surrender. Just then, the doorbell rings and my heart is suddenly beating so hard and so fast I feel a little faint. I have butterflies in my tummy, and in my back. That’s not normal. Maybe I need medical attention.
Isabel squeals and stands.
“That’ll be Jake!”
And off she goes to answer the door, while I try to figure out just how upset Isabel and Paul would be if I tell them I can’t stay for their rehearsal dinner. But what would be big enough an excuse to justify such a dick move? I can’t say it’s a date. That would make me a bitch. What else is there? Why didn’t I come up with an excuse earlier?
Aaaand . . . Now it’s too late.
My stomach drops. I stop tapping my knee, but now my hands start to shake, so I fold them together and hide them on my lap.
Jake Winton strides into the room wearing jeans and a plain gray T-shirt that stretches over the bulky muscles of his arms and his chest. Goddammit, I hate how good he looks. Unlike his brother, Jake is very broad and very tall—far too large for my tastes, really. I like a man I can look eye to eye in my heels, and Jake is six foot six. I’m good, but even I couldn’t manage thirteen-inch heels.
Jake is just a veritable giant in every way. Yes, including that one. Men spend a lot of time worrying about size, but frankly, I’d take a skilled guy with a sensibly sized appendage over a horse like Jake any day. I want a man who can get in there, get the job done, then walk away—leaving me able to walk away too . . . as opposed to limping away. Maybe it’s just me, but I like to enjoy a guy’s company and not need an epidural if I want to go to spin class the next day.
Not that I was complaining all that much when Jake and I were together. Probably because he was a skilled guy. In fact, I do remember relishing that sometimes-morning-after tenderness because it reminded me of the hours I’d spent with him. I was so lust-addled at the time that I actually thought that was a good thing.
But sex is better without complications like that—delicious memories, emotions, huge dicks. So yes, in hindsight, his is definitely too big. And he’s definitely too tall and broad. And too compassionate. And too . . . argh . . . These days he’s just too West Coast. He looks so relaxed, and I can’t miss the light tan on his skin and the way that his muddy-blond hair has brightened up several tones. Then again, Jake always loved surfing and hiking. Even when he lived here in Manhattan, he was forever planning trips away to commune with nature or some shit. When his job gets too much, he heads to the outdoors to decompress.
Yes, Jake Winton was and is all wrong for me, in pretty much every way.
I look away, and I plan to continue looking away—but my eyes are drawn back to him and I find myself staring again immediately. I’ve just missed him so much, and it’s been two and a half years since I saw him—apparently that separation has left me weak and hungry. I note the smattering of gray at his temples and just for a moment I wonder if I put it there. Then I do the calculation and realize he’d be thirty-nine now, so I guess a hint of silver makes sense. Also, I’m really not into salt-and-pepper guys, so that’s excellent.
Except that it suits him. He is a doctor, after all . . . a specialist at that, and there’s something about the hint of gray that makes him look even more distinguished. And the horn-rimmed glasses? They’re new too. He used to make fun of my reading glasses in that flirty, melt-my-panties way of his. He always said they made me look like a sexy librarian.
Seriously, who has sexy librarian fantasies?
Me.
Right now.
I’m fantasizing about a very broad, very tall, very sexy male librarian who’s actually a doctor with a huge dick and horn-rimmed frames on his brand-new glasses.
“. . . glad to be here. Marcus, congratulations on the engagement and the twins and—oh! Hey there, Abby! Wow, you look amazing. When are you due?” Jake’s going around the table greeting everyone and by the time I check back into the conversation, he’s already up to me. His gaze lands on me, and after a split second of panic I force my brightest smile. “And Jessica,” he says, then he returns my smile with a very tight smile of his own.
There’s barely disguised antagonism in his gaze, and it seems I’ve made a critical error here. I knew I was at real risk of throwing myself at him like some kind of lust-sick idiot tonight, but I figured he’d be on his best behavior. I mean, come on: Jake’s the nicest guy I’ve ever met. It really didn’t occur to me that he’d ever look at me like . . . this.
It seems that in all of my wasted hours over the last few week
s, worrying about seeing Jake again, I have neglected to consider one very important thing: I’m the villain here. It was my idea to hide our relationship from our friends. My idea to end things. My idea to “give one another some space” after we broke up.
It was his idea to pack up and move to California to get away from me, and I probably should have given a little more thought to the level of hurt that might have been behind that decision. I just told myself the job offer at Stanford must have been too good to be true, and that he was probably ready for a change after living his whole life in New York. It was easier to believe my own lies than it was to think about what might actually have been going on for him.
“Hello,” he says now.
“Hi, Jake,” I say. My gaze lands on the almost-empty bottle of champagne in the middle of the table. “We need some more bubbles!” My voice is a little too light and a little too high. I glance toward the kitchen, where Marcus’s brother-in-law and a pair of apprentice chefs are preparing our meal as part of his wedding gift to Paul and Izzy. “I’ll just—”
“Sit down, Jess,” Isabel says, laughing. She waves at me, playfully dismissive as she rises. “I’ll get it. You guys can all catch up before we talk through the plan for tomorrow.”
“I need to walk a bit,” Abby says, and she stands with some difficulty. Didn’t she just get back from the bathroom? I move to rise, but Marcus is right beside her and before I’m even on my feet, his arm is around her waist and he’s leading her away from the table.
“Let me come, Abs,” he says softly. “Want to go outside for some fresh air? How’s the heartburn?”
“All good.” She flashes a smile that’s just a little too bright. “Fresh air sounds great.”
That leaves me, Jake and Paul. I mentally beg Paul to stay but because the universe hates me, he stands immediately.
“Sorry,” he says, then he gives us a cheeky grin. “I’ve been waiting all night for Isabel to get distracted. I’ve organized a surprise for the honeymoon and I just need to check some details.”