I WENT FIRST, sprinting across the hall with my hood pulled up, face down. A survey of the stairwell showed only one camera, at the bottom and easy to pass unnoticed.

As Sonny shut the door behind them, I whispered a warning about the security camera. When he headed for the stairs, Jaz caught his arm and motioned up.

“No fucking way,” Sonny said. “We’re on a schedule and—”

Jaz caught my elbow. “Come on. I want to show you something.” He leaned forward, eyes meeting mine, that infectious grin making my heart skip. “You won’t regret it. I promise.”

“Go,” Sonny grumbled behind us. “Let’s just make it fast.”

HOPE VIEW FROM THE TOP

HOPE

VIEW FROM THE TOP

As Sonny and I tramped past the sixteenth-floor landing, Jaz hit the last flight at a bound. By the time we arrived, Jaz had already picked the roof door lock. He looked out and murmured, “Perfect.”

As Sonny strode ahead, surveying the roof for cameras or other trouble spots, I stayed by the door, letting my eyes adjust. Jaz came up beside me, his fingers touching my wrist above the glove, bare skin making contact. When I glanced over his gaze tripped away, smile unexpectedly shy. A quick squeeze of my gloved hand and he grabbed my elbow instead and steered me across the roof.

As we walked, his chaos vibes were light, teasing, barely enough to tap my radar. His eyes gleamed, like a boy getting into mischief. I tugged off my glove, then slid my hand into his. He grinned—so big and so bright that you’d think he was ten years old, a girl holding his hand for the first time. Seeing that smile, I knew I was going to fall for him.

For almost a decade now, anytime I’d met a guy and thought I could fall for him, I’d thrown up every barrier. I had too much to hide, too much else going on in my life, and I couldn’t afford the ups and downs—and, yes, the pain—of romantic entanglements. But I looked at Jaz, saw myself falling and didn’t care. Tonight I wasn’t Hope Adams, didn’t have all her problems, her insecurities, her responsibilities. Whatever this became, it couldn’t last. No reason not to let myself enjoy the ride.

Jaz tugged me toward the edge, then let go, lowered himself to the roof and stretched on to his stomach, arms crossed under his chin, staring out at the city. After a moment, he glanced back at me.

“Well, come on.” He waved for me to lie down.

I glanced at the ground.

“It’s not that dirty. You’re washable.” He peered across the roof. “Yo! Sonny!”

Sonny appeared, sighed and shook his head, but sat down beside his friend, knees drawn up. I hesitated, then laid down.