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said , leaning casually against the deck rail.
    “How’s your summer going?”
    “Good. How’s yours?”
    “It’s good. Football practice takes up --”
    The swoosh of the sliding glass door made them both turn, and Emma’s mouth dropped open when Layla stepped through. Emma glanced at Cole, who smiled appreciatively at Layla’s cheerleading uniform – a short blue skirt and sleeveless top that exposed her flat stomach.
    “Hi, Cole,” Layla said sweetly. Just when Emma had decided things couldn’t get worse, Layla’s friend Lane stepped out after her. Lane always had a snide comment about Emma’s glasses and frizzy hair.
    Layla was about to breeze over her younger sister when she did a double take.
    “Isn’t that my shirt?” she demanded. Emma looked down, as though seeing it for the first time.
    “Umm…”
    “What the hell did you do to your hair? Wait, is that … what’s all over your mouth, Emma?”
    “You look like a prepubescent prostitute,” Lane laughed.
    “Geez, Lane, don’t be such a bitch,” Cole said , shaking his head. “She’s just a kid.”
    Emma knew the hotness spreading over her was not from the sun. She turned to duck inside the house, hiding her tears.
    “Take my shirt off,” Layla said sharply. “And don’t ever --”
    The sliding glass door cut her off as Emma closed it behind herself gratefully. When she blinked, the tears escaped, and she grimaced from the eye makeup that burned her eyes. She found her way to the bathroom and ran hot water onto a washcloth, roughly scrubbing the makeup from her skin.
    What was I doing? No boy will ever notice me with Layla around . She’s the pretty one, and I’m the smart one. Except, unfortunately, she’s smart, too.
    She closed the door to her bedroom and snuggled under the covers of her bed with a thick book. But try as she might, she couldn’t concentrate on it. All she could think of was Cole’s sweaty chest, his blue-gray eyes and the fact that he’ d finally noticed her, all right. Too bad it had been one of the most humiliating moments of her life.
     
    Now
    As he flipped through the hard copy depositions hi s assistant had delivered, Cole’s mind wandered. It was Wednesday, and he’d been thinking about Emma constantly since their dinner Friday night. He had called her once just to talk and texted several times, but it wasn’t the same as being near her.
    He kept remembering the way her fac e broke into an ethereal glow when she was about to laugh, and the sweet, longing sensation he felt in his groin every time she said his name. He rubbed a hand down his face, trying to shake the thoughts.
    I can’t go there. This is Emma Carson. Mom will kill me – as in, literally maim and then kill me – if I mess with her. She’s always had a dream in the back of her mind of me and Layla ending up together. And work’s way too busy for a relationship, anyway. That’s why I’ve been alone since I started working, and I will be for a few more years until things settle down.
    This morning h e’d gone back to the coffee shop where they’d run into each other, hoping she’d be there. He couldn’t stop thinking about seeing her again at the gallery opening this weekend. For Emma, he’d pretend to be interested in art.
    He started reading a deposition, deciding to become engrossed in it to clear his mind of her. But after several paragraphs, he found himself staring out the large glass window of his office.
    What if someone else asks her out?
    He grabbed his phone and typed out a message to her.
    How about dinner tonight?
    He tried to go back to the deposition, but found himself checking his phone every minute or so until it beeped with an incoming message.
    Hanging out with Layla…won’t be free til 9…
    He smiled as he wrote back.
    9’s good. You pick the place. How’s work?
    Her return message made him smile.
    Just revolutionizing the design world one logo at a time. Dixon’s okay for dinner?
    Cole started composing