“Yeah. I’m just not ready for that, Vince. And I really hate having my picture taken,” he said.

“You date that crazy girl, you’re gonna get your picture taken.”

He hadn’t thought of that when he’d charged to her rescue, but he couldn’t really say he regretted it, either. Because he’d gotten to see her again, to hold her again, to kiss her. He’d gotten into her bed again. He grinned at that thought. Not in the way he’d really like to be back in her bed, but it was certainly better than not being anywhere near her bed.

“I gotta ask you,” Vince said, grinning wickedly. “Once you carried her off like that, what did you do to her then?”

“Nothing,” James claimed. “Absolutely nothing.”

“Yeah, right,” Vince said.

A gentleman didn’t kiss and tell, after all, and he prided himself on being a gentleman.

He got to his office to see Marcy waiting for him, looking as freaked out as he’d ever seen her and carrying a rolled-up copy of a tabloid.

“Let me guess.” James went into his office, Marcy following. “You’ve never worked with anyone who made the cover of a tabloid before?”

Her mouth fell open. “You’ve seen it?”

“If it’s the one I’m thinking of, I have. Please tell me I didn’t make the cover of more than one?”

“No, just the one.” She laid it down in front of him on his desk. “We’re probably going to start getting calls—”

“From the tabloids? They know who I am?”

“Suspect, at least. The Bride Blog piece yesterday did mention you by name in connection with Ms. Allen, and if we’re going to get calls, I need to know what to say.”

She waited, looking so eager and excited.

“You mean, you want me to tell you what happened yesterday?”

“Only so I can do my job,” she claimed.

Yeah, right. She was practically salivating at the thought of getting the tabloid news before anyone else.

“There is something seriously wrong with you, Marcy,” he said.

“I know. Believe me, I do. I’m so sorry. Everyone has a weakness, a dirty little secret, and this is mine.”

And Chloe was his.

His weakness, but not his secret. Not anymore. He didn’t think he’d left any room for doubt about how he felt about her.

“She was in trouble, and I helped her out. That’s it. End of story. I’m not going to stand by and watch anyone I know get attacked.” He made it sound perfectly reasonable, he thought, like he was some sort of freelance do-gooder.

Marcy didn’t look like she was buying a word of it. She’d seen him charge out of the restaurant like a crazy man to get to Chloe yesterday, after all.

“So, that Bride Blog thing yesterday … I never actually saw it.”

“You’re not going to like it,” Marcy warned, handing him a printout with the pertinent parts highlighted in yellow.

He scanned the article. It referred to him as Fianc'e No. 2 and mentioned that stupid eligible bachelor list he’d been on, then got to the she-just-wanted-him-for-his-money part.

Well, that hurt.

Still.

He’d hurled that particular accusation at her after they broke up. Sometimes he believed it, sometimes he didn’t, but it still had the power to make him seriously annoyed.

“Well, I’ve never been happy being No. 2 in anything,” he said, handing that piece of trash back to Marcy. “And please tell me they’re wrong about that stupid bachelor list. I can’t be on that thing again!”

Marcy looked a little nervous. “The Single Woman’s Guide to Bachelor Hunting in New York? I called. I’m afraid you’re going to be on it again.”

James cringed. He’d made New York Woman’s annual bachelor list for the first time a few weeks before he and Chloe had gotten engaged. Truly rotten timing, because women could be so aggressive these days. They’d been all over him. It had been a constant annoyance and a major source of tension between him and Chloe. So once again, this was the worst possible timing.

“What do I have to do to get off that stupid list?” he asked.

“Lose all your money or get married,” she said, demonstrating that logical Marcy was still in there somewhere. “Or I guess you could leave New York.”

No good options there. “Maybe we could just buy the stupid magazine and do away with the list.”

Marcy paused, pen and pad in hand, like she wasn’t sure whether she should write that down or not.

“I’m not that desperate yet. Still, there has to be something we can do.”