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I can’t recall it word for word, but the gist of it was that the heart is meant to remind me that she loves me every day.

I head out of the bathroom toward my apartment door on bare feet. I’ll sink my feet into my comfortable black boots when Gwynn and I head to campus. Until then, I’ll tuck them under me as I sit on the couch the way I always do.

After I unlock all three deadbolts on my door, I swing it open expecting to see Gwynn with two cups of coffee in her hands.

“Faith Upton?”

I stare at the man who just uttered my name in a tone so low that goose bumps are trailing over every inch of my skin.

I wouldn’t be shocked if my face was covered in them.

This can’t be happening.

I am not standing in my doorway staring at Dr. Hawthorne.

I inch my gaze down to see the light blue T-shirt and jeans he’s wearing. His feet are bare too.

“You’re Faith, aren’t you?” he asks since I have yet to make a sound.

“Yes.” I manage to squeak out in a voice that doesn’t sound like my own.

The corners of his lips quirk up into an almost smile. “I found something that I think might belong to you.”

My eyes drop to his hands.

Shit. Oh, shit and double shit.

“It was in the elevator when I got home last night.” He offers it to me with a shove of his hands in my direction. “Is it yours?”

It’s been said that everyone faces moments of great decision. It might be during a marriage proposal or when you choose a career.

For me, it’s whether to own up to the fact that the diary and its dirty (sometimes, downright filthy) contents belong to me.

I keep my eyes on the diary.

“Is this your diary?” he presses with another shove of his hands at me.

I slide my gaze up to his face. I try to read his expression to see if there’s any clue about how much of my diary he’s read.

Did he get to the entry about where I rambled on about how his tongue would feel on my pussy?

Is there any hope that he skipped past the mini-novel I wrote about how I want him to fuck me so hard that I ache between my legs for days?

“Faith?” he says my name, and oh my God, it has never sounded sexy before.

“Yes?” It comes out as a question, but Dr. Hawthorne takes it as an answer.

I see that when he smiles just before he drops the diary in my hands. “That’s my good deed for the day. I returned something valuable to its owner.”

My bottom lip trembles, but I bite it hard to stop the rush of emotions I feel.

“I’m Matthew Hawthorne, by the way,” he says, reaching out to offer his hand for a shake.

He wants to touch me.

I drop my hand in his softly. “I’m Faith.”

“I know.” He smiles again but this time, I get a glimpse of his straight, white gorgeous teeth. “Faith Upton.”

“I live across the hall.” He tilts his chin up. “My brother spotted the diary in my apartment last night. He put two and two together. He’s the one who suggested it might belong to you.”

“Roman,” I whisper.

He nods. “That’s right. Am I safe to assume you’ve met my twin brother?”

“You’re not identical,” I blurt out.

That draws his thick left eyebrow up. “You’re right. We’re not. I’m a hell of a lot better looking than him.”

He is.

He laughs that off with a toss of his head back.

I stare at his throat and the arch of it. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more brutally sexy than that.

As his laughter fades, he studies my face. “I swear I saw you at NYU the other day. Are you studying pre-med?”

I process each one of those words before I nod.

He noticed me? At NYU?

“Impressive.” He glances at the diary. “It was nice meeting you. I’ll see you around, Faith Upton.”

I look at his lips. “I’ll see you around.”

“That you will.”

With that, he turns around and walks into his apartment, leaving me wondering just how much of my diary he read.

Chapter Nine

Faith

“Why do you look like that?” Gwynn circles her finger in the air near my face. “Did you eat something bad for breakfast? Please tell me you didn’t eat another week-old egg salad sandwich you found in the back of your refrigerator?”

The reminder of that is enough to make my stomach turn, but I shake my head. “No. I’m fine.”

I’m far from it.

Dr. Hawthorne went back into his apartment less than a minute before the elevator arrived, and Gwynn came racing off of it with two coffees and a bag containing two bagels.

She assumed I was standing in my open doorway waiting for her. I doubt she even noticed that I was holding my diary in my hands.


Tags: Deborah Bladon The Hawthornes of New York Romance