Chapter One

Izzy Fineberg stood frozen in front of the agency building as if her new job description was “garden gnome impersonator” and not “office assistant.” Breathe, Izzy, remember your childbirth classes. Those were nine plus months ago, though, the reason why she had only now found her first postgraduate job. If only her damn feet would move.

She hadn’t used to be this way. Motherhood—single motherhood—had added a whole new level of responsibilities onto her shoulders. But it was time to stop leaning on her sister and put her degrees in Management and Deaf Studies to good use.

She sucked in her postpartum stomach and forced her legs into action. The small white building stood in a busy urban area, housing the Deaf agency at which she’d been fortunate to land a job. She pulled open the glass doors to the small reception area. It may not have had the most up-to-date furniture, but warm colors surrounded the space and she relaxed in the comforting environment. So what if her new coworkers would be more proficient in ASL than she was, Izzy thrived on challenges. Whether it meant beating her sister at cards, or eating the most hot dogs, or even jumping from the highest point and not breaking her ankle—okay, maybe a sprain—or her most recent success of graduating with a newborn, she had it covered.

Izzy was up for any challenge.

She had to be.

At the receptionist desk a little girl around six or seven years old colored on a sheet of loose paper. Her hair was set in multiple tight braids. Beside her, a Black woman wore a headset as she signed to her computer. Izzy guessed it was a video call, so she stood aside, trying not to think of her engorged, milk-filled breasts. She hadn’t mentioned the whole making-milk thing when she interviewed and accepted this job, and if she didn’t pump at some point she’d be leaking by the end of the day.

Of all the possible worst first day impressions that could happen, milk leaking from her nipples had never been a contender before today.

The call finished and the receptionist’s dark brown eyes took in Izzy standing there in all her awkward fight-or-flight glory. “Can I help you?” she signed.

Izzy swallowed and raised her hands, fingerspelling her name and following it up with her sign name—her nickname with both Zs signed at once. In ASL, names didn’t have predetermined signs; each one was custom fit for the user. At least two members of the community were needed to give someone a sign name, and Izzy was six months pregnant when she earned hers. “Isabel Fineberg. I’m the new office assistant.”

The receptionist’s face lit up. She removed her headset, standing to reveal a long black tunic top covering rainbow-striped leggings. “Oh, hi! I’m Shanice.” She placed her hands on the little girl’s shoulders. “And this is Madisyn. She’s helping me, since there’s no school today. Isn’t that right?”

Madisyn nodded.

“Let me call Deanna. She takes care of all the new staff.”

Izzy prided herself on catching Shanice’s fingerspelling. A year and a half ago her fingerspelling reception skills had been crap, reason number one why she couldn’t find Archie’s father—she never caught the man’s name.

She’d met him at a Deaf event, back when she could barely sign, “Hi my name is,” never mind “Are you sure that condom worked?” But she hadn’t forgotten him or the floppy blond hair and brown eyes that had inhabited her dreams since that fateful night. She’d gone to every Deaf event she could since then, hoping to find him again, but it was as though she’d had an immaculate conception.

Wouldn’t be the first Jewish woman to experience one.

She shifted the bag on her shoulder, the one holding her lunch and pumping supplies, as she made small talk with Shanice. The receptionist was an interpreter student working in the community to improve her skills. Izzy still wasn’t sure what she wanted to do long-term. Interpreting would give her more job flexibility, so it was something to consider for the future.

A woman with short brown hair came to the front desk, and Izzy remembered Deanna from her interviews. The casual yet professional attire said she could hold her own in a business meeting and also chase a toddler down the street, all without breaking a sweat. The woman had the same friendly smile she’d had before, the kind that could put even a scolded toddler at ease, and Izzy relaxed while shaking her hand.

Deanna took a moment to check on Madisyn’s drawing. The little girl perked up at the attention, and Izzy took that to mean it wasn’t unusual for Shanice’s daughter to be at work with her.

She followed Deanna on the mini tour of the building and up to the second floor, where she signed her paperwork and went over company policies—including a “no dating coworkers” clause that Izzy didn’t have any intention of questioning. Instead of policies, Izzy wanted to ask about the new social media manager, the person most in need of an assistant at the moment, and she’d be working with him first. He’d been only recently hired when she interviewed, so he hadn’t been present. She hoped he also had the laid-back vibe everyone else projected.

Before she could ask about a private space to pump, they were on the move again. Deanna took her from office to office, making introductions, until they arrived at a closed door at the end of the hall. Izzy glanced at the label, Nolan Holtzman, Social Media, as Deanna opened the door enough to stick a hand in. The light inside flashed before she opened it all the way, the Deaf equivalent of knocking.

A large desk sat off to the side in the small room. The man sitting there glanced up, wavy blond hair and brown eyes so familiar that Izzy’s gut clenched. He wore a simple blue button-down, a far cry from the T-shirt with video game controllers on it she’d seen him in—and out of—before. Deanna provided introductions, but Izzy didn’t need any, not when she finally knew the name of the social media director. Her new boss.

And her baby’s father.

…

Nolan clicked through the multiple tabs he had open on his monitor, one to each of their social media pages and one to the agency website, which was in serious need of updating. The agency’s online reach was practically barbaric compared to most others around. Outdated websites might be normal for most, but the Deaf Community depended on the advancement of technology to bring communication and accessibility.

And this agency didn’t even have a video on their website. Or a Twitter account.

Or rather, they didn’t have a Twitter account last week. Now they did, and he needed to get the word out.

As the state agency, the goal included preserving, protecting, and promoting the civil, human, and linguistic rights of the Deaf Community—those words proudly displayed on the webpage and pamphlets. And yet this basic lack of access contradicted those goals. Part of the reason why he hit the ground running, this change was long overdue. Nolan glanced up at the flashing light, eyes going straight to the woman shifting on her feet outside his door, a woman he’d recognize anywhere.

Izzy.

He was vaguely aware of Deanna standing there as well, introducing them, but couldn’t tear his gaze away from the long-haired beauty from his past. He’d wondered if his new assistant, this Isabel Fineberg, was the same Izzy he’d met at a Deaf event. But then he remembered that she’d been an early ASL student, and odds were it couldn’t be her.

Nolan’s karma didn’t work those types of miracles. He had a five-to-one chance of seeing someone he most definitely did not want to see over someone he did. Finding someone standing there who he wanted to see? That took extra bonus points to achieve.

Achievement unlocked. Because there Izzy stood, staring at him as though she’d seen a ghost, as though his achievement unlocked her bad karma. She looked good, curvier than when they’d first met and just as enticing. He’d hoped their paths would cross again, but never expected it to be like this. What was it, two years since they met? Something like that. And she still got to him. It hadn’t been the drinks or beer goggles or any of that crap. It had been her.

She shifted her bag on her shoulder, an uncomfortable vibe radiating off her.

Maybe the beer goggles were true for her.

He blinked and refocused on Deanna. This job was new to him, too, and he had every intention of proving himself. Ogling the female staff wouldn’t do him any favors. And he didn’t want to be that guy; he wanted to be the person to whom others felt comfortable enough to complain about that guy.

Somehow, he managed to respond to Deanna, though he didn’t know what exactly he’d signed. And then they were alone, Izzy and him, in his small office. The last time they’d been alone they’d been intoxicated and naked, and it had been the single hottest night of his life.

He glanced at the papers on his desk and took a breath. This wasn’t a bar, this was work, and he needed to set a professional tone for the two of them.

Nolan got to his feet and rounded his desk. Izzy remained in the same spot she’d been in when she first laid eyes on him, bag on her shoulder, barely even breathing by the looks of it. She definitely wasn’t happy to see him.

Ego blow received, and it wasn’t even lunchtime.

“I know we’ve met before, but this is different. Let’s start over. I’m Nolan, nice to meet you.” He held out his hand, friendly smile on his face. What they had was a moment in the past, and with her working with him, for him, nothing more would ever come from their sordid tale. He expected Izzy to quickly shake his hand and then they’d move on.

Instead she stared at his hand as if he’d just sneezed into it, blinking rapidly as her gaze shifted from his hand to his face and back again. She shook her head, as though she held her own internal pep talk.

“Hi. Sorry. Hi,” she finally signed. “I didn’t expect…sorry.” She thrust out her hand, placing it in his, and just like that night, the connection between them sparked.

He pulled his hand back. That connection did him no good anymore, not with them both working here. At least that proved his typical bad luck held.

“I know this is complicated. Why don’t I explain to Deanna that we know each other and it’s not a good idea to work together? I know the other staff have work for an assistant; it shouldn’t be too much of a problem.” For her, at least.

“No, I…” Izzy took the bag off her shoulder and placed it on the floor. “I sign better than this now. Honest. I’m just surprised. I tried to find you and…” She bit her lip, brown eyes wide and open and luring him in like a moth to the flame.

Again.

He needed to keep this professional and establish a working rapport they could each stick to. “You tried to find me?” His hands apparently didn’t get the professional memo.

Her face shifted, in what way he couldn’t tell, he only knew something changed. “I did. And that’s a conversation”—she glanced around his office—“not for here. Can we talk later?”

His libido lurched at the prospect of later, but he squashed it down into the box it had crawled out of. Even if the office didn’t have a no-dating policy, he was her superior and he’d do best not to take advantage of that. “Sure. The coffee shop around the corner?”

Izzy nodded. “Yes. Thank you.”

She didn’t relax. A nervous energy seemed to swirl around her. Curiosity nudged his gut, insisting he missed an important piece of information that Izzy held.

And he hadn’t a clue what that could be.