New York, Actually: A sparkling romantic comedy from the bestselling Queen of Romance. Sarah Morgan

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      It was still superficial, she reminded herself. It was everything light and fun.

      A heart couldn’t break if it wasn’t engaged.

      “Tell me about him,” she said to Brutus, but he was too busy trying to bite Valentine’s ear to pay any attention.

      Daniel returned as Brutus was tangling himself with Valentine. “I don’t suppose you specialize in dog psychology? My dog needs help.”

      She took the tea from him, careful not to touch his fingers. “I’m better at understanding human behavior.”

      “Behavioral psychology? That’s what you do?”

      “Yes.” She saw no reason not to be honest about that.

      “And do you prefer good behavior or bad behavior?” His smoky voice slid under her skin. She sensed this man could deliver a hefty dose of bad when it suited him, probably another thing that made him a magnet for women.

      “Most people are a mixture of both. I observe. I don’t judge.”

      “Everyone judges.” He took another mouthful of coffee. “So what does a behavioral psychologist do? Do you ever advise on relationships?”

      “Yes.”

      He lowered the cup. “So if you’re a psychologist, and you’ve studied this stuff, all your relationships must be perfect.”

      She almost laughed, but knowing it would be a hysterical sound she held it back.

      It was surprising how many people assumed her relationships would be perfect. It was like expecting a doctor never to get sick.

      “You’re right. My relationships are all totally perfect.”

      “You’re lying. No one’s relationship is perfect.” He glanced from her to Valentine. “And you’re here in the park every morning with your dog, which tells me he’s your most meaningful relationship.”

      The conversation had somehow edged into the personal and she instinctively backed away. “I agree that no one’s relationships are perfect. The best you can do is make them perfect for you.”

      He stretched out his legs, relaxed and comfortable. “Perfect, for me, would be short. I don’t like to get involved past a certain point. Judging by the way you react, I’m guessing you’re the same.”

      He guessed correctly. And she couldn’t help being curious.

      “You’re afraid of intimacy?” Why was she even having this conversation? What was wrong with her? She should be drinking her tea and leaving.

      “I’m not afraid of intimacy. It’s more that I don’t have time for the demands that come with intimacy. My job is pretty all-consuming and in the time I have to myself, I don’t want complications.”

      “That’s common among people with avoidance issues.”

      “You think I have avoidance issues?”

      “Love avoidance.” She noticed Valentine nosing something in the grass and stood up to pull him away from it. “People who avoid intimacy often do so because they’re afraid of being hurt. It’s a self-protection mechanism. Typically those in avoidance relationships don’t introduce their partner to friends and relatives because they don’t think the relationship will last long enough. They use a variety of distancing techniques. And it isn’t really about the current relationship, but about what has happened in the past. Often the roots of the problem are established in childhood. They are often people who didn’t establish a proper parent-child dynamic and healthy bonding.”

      “My childhood wasn’t what you might call nurturing, but I put that behind me a long time ago. If you’re wondering about the origin of my views on relationships, I can assure you it has nothing to do with my parents. I’m not the sort of person who believes in carrying the past into the future.”

      “Everyone carries at least a little of their past.”

      “So what are you carrying?”

      She’d walked right into that. “We were talking about you.”

      “But now I’d like to talk about you. Or do you always deflect conversation when it becomes personal?”

      “I don’t deflect.” She sighed. “All right, maybe I do. Sometimes. You asked me if my dog is my most meaningful relationship. The answer is yes, right now he is. I’m enjoying the simplicity of my life.”

      “So are you avoiding intimacy?” He mimicked her question and she gave a reluctant laugh.

      “Definitely. And I’ve never been happier.”

      “So if we carry on seeing each other, are you going to be analyzing my every move?”

      “We’re not going to carry on seeing each other. We’re having a conversation in the park, that’s all.”

      “You already know me better than the last three women I dated, and you’re telling me that’s it?” He was smiling, and it was the smile that proved her downfall. That and a late night updating Ask a Girl, which had left her tired and lowered her defenses.

      Sleep deprivation had a lot to answer for.

      She sipped her tea, almost spilling the last of it as Brutus nudged her leg.

      “Sit.” Daniel gave the dog a severe look. “This animal is out of control.”

      “He needs to know who is boss.”

      “He thinks he’s the boss. It’s a problem we’re addressing.”

      “Brutus!” Molly said his name firmly but the dog didn’t even turn his head. “Maybe it’s not a behavioral problem. Is there something wrong with his hearing?”

      “Not to my knowledge. Why?”

      “Because he doesn’t seem to know his own name. It’s unusual for a dog to ignore his name, even if he ignores the command that goes with it. Hey—Brutus.” She pulled a dog treat out of her pocket and the dog’s head turned like a whip. “You know your name when there’s food involved. Why doesn’t that surprise me? How long have you had him?”

      “Not long. How long have you had Valentine?”

      “Three years.”

      “Is that when you moved to New York?”

      Molly reminded herself that thousands of people moved to New York every day. He wasn’t likely to take her picture and do an image search. “Yes.”

      “What brought you to the US?”

      Romantic disasters.

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