“Under that you’re telling me to stop being such a hard-ass, and just be a friend.”

“Yes.” She smiled at him. “That’s my answer, my solution, and where I’m trying to manipulate you. How am I doing?”

“Pretty well. I guess I should stop by and see Emma.”

“It would be nice.”

“Let’s go over these papers first.” He opened his briefcase.

Twenty minutes later, he gave a quick knuckle rap on Em-ma’s door, then pushed it open. “Em?”

He heard the music, or what he thought of as her work music—harps and flutes—so walked back to her work area. She sat at the counter, arranging little pink rosebuds in a white basket.

“Em.”

She jumped, swung around. “Scared me. I didn’t hear you.”

“Because I’m interrupting.”

“Just getting a head start on some arrangements for a baby shower this week. Del.” She got up. “How mad at me are you?”

“Zero. Less than zero.” He found himself ashamed she would think otherwise. “I’m at about seven out of ten with Jack, but that’s an improvement.”

“I should point out that when Jack’s sleeping with me I’m also sleeping with him.”

“Maybe we could just find a code word for that. Like you and Jack are writing a novel together, or doing lab work.”

“Are you mad because we’re doing lab work, or because we didn’t tell you?”

“He didn’t tell me. Anyway, it’s mixed. I’m trying to come to terms with the lab work, and I’m pissed he didn’t tell me you and he were . . .”

“Lining up the test tubes? Labeling the petri dishes?”

Frowning, he slid his hands into his pockets. “I don’t like the lab work code after all. I just want you to be okay, and happy.”

“I am okay. I am happy. Even though I know the two of you punched each other over it. Actually, maybe that makes me happier. It’s always flattering to have guys punch each other in the face over me.”

“It was an impulse of the moment.”

She stepped to him, reached up so she could frame his face, and brushed her lips over his. “Try not to do it again. It involves two of my favorite faces. Let’s go sit out on the back patio, drink some lemonade, and be friends.”

“Okay.”


While they did, jack took a seat in mac’s studio and unrolled the plans for the proposed addition.

“It’s the same design I e-mailed you, but with more detail, and the couple of changes you wanted.”

“Look, Carter! You have your own room.”

He danced his fingers over Mac’s bright cap of hair. “I was kind of hoping we’d still share one.”

Mac laughed, leaned closer to the plans. “Just look at my dressing room. Well, client dressing room. And God, I love the patio space we’ll get. Want a beer, Jack?”

“No, thanks. Got anything soft?”

“Sure. Diet.”

“Crap. Water.”

When she went into the kitchen, Jack pointed out details to Carter. “These built-ins will give you plenty of shelves for books, or whatever you want. For files, for supplies.”

“What’s this? A fireplace?”

“One of Mac’s changes. She said every professor worth his PhD should have a fireplace in his study. It’s a small gas log unit. It’ll also provide an additional heat source for the room.”

Carter glanced over as Mac came back with a bottle of water and two beers. “You got me a fireplace.”

“I did. It must be love.” She kissed him lightly, then bent to pick up their three-legged cat, Triad.

It must be, Jack thought when she sat and the cat curled in her lap.

While they discussed details, choices of materials, he wondered what it was like to feel that connection with and that certainty about another person.

No doubt in their minds, he mused, that this was the one. The one to make a home with, build a future with, maybe have kids with. Share a cat with.

How did they know? Or at least believe enough to risk it?

It was, for him, one of life’s great mysteries.

“When can we start?” Mac demanded.

“I’ll submit for permit tomorrow. Do you have a contractor in mind?”

“Um . . . the company we used on the initial remodel was good. Are they still available?”

“I ran it by him. I can contact him tomorrow, ask him to submit a bid.”

“You’re the man, Jack.” Mac gave him a friendly punch in the arm. “Do you want to stay for dinner? We’re making pasta. I can call and see if Emma’s interested.”

“Thanks, but we’re going out.”

“Aw.”

“Stop.” But he shook his head and laughed.

“I can’t help it if I find it adorable that my pals are getting all cozy.”

“We’re going to grab some dinner and catch a flick.”

“Aw.”

He laughed again. “I’m getting out of here. See you on Poker Night, Carter. Prepare to lose.”

“I could just hand you the money now, save time.”

“Tempting, but I prefer the satisfaction of skinning you at the table. I’ll get you that bid,” he added as he headed for the door. “You keep that copy of the plans.”

He heard Mac’s “uh-oh” an instant before he spotted Del.

They stopped, about five feet apart.

“Wait!” Mac called out. “If you’re going to punch each other again, I want my camera.”

“I’ll shut her up,” Carter promised.

“Hey! Wait! I was serious,” she managed before Carter dragged her back inside.

Jack jammed his hands into his pockets. “This is just fucking stupid.”

“Maybe. Probably.”

“Look, we punched each other, we each said our piece. We had a beer. According to the rules, that should about cover it.”

“We didn’t take in a sporting event.”

Jack felt some of the tension in his shoulders ease. That was more like Del. “Can we do that tomorrow? I’ve got a date.”

“What happened to bros before hos?”

A smile spread amiably over Jack’s face. “Did you just call Emma a ho?”

Del’s mouth opened and closed before he dragged a hand through his hair. “You see the complications here? I just called Emma a ho because I wasn’t thinking of Emma as Emma, and I was being a smart-ass.”

“Yeah, well, I know that. Otherwise I’d’ve had to punch you in the face again. The Yankees have a home game tomorrow night.”

“You drive.”

“Uh-uh. We get Carlos. I spring for the car service. You spring for the tip and the beer. We split the dogs.”

“All right.” Del considered a moment. “Would you punch me in the face over her?”

“I already did.”

“That wasn’t about her.”

Point taken, Jack thought. “I don’t know.”

“That’s a good answer,” Del decided. “I’ll see you tomor row.”


Since dinner—bistro fare—and a movie—action flick—worked so well, they made a second official Monday night date. Full schedules prevented any appreciable time together between, but they managed what they termed a friendly booty call and a few teasing e-mails.

Emma wasn’t sure if their current relationship led off with sex or friendship, but it felt as if both of them were trying to find a happy balance between the two.

She was nearly finished dressing for the evening when Parker came in and called up the stairs.

“Be right down. I’ve got the flowers you wanted in the back, in a holding vase. Though I still don’t see why you have to go watch people make wedding favors.”

“The MOB wants me to stop by, give it all the once-over. So I stop by, give it all the once-over. It shouldn’t take that much time.”

“I’d have saved you some of that time and dropped them by, but I got hung up with my last consult of the day.” Emma dashed downstairs, stopped, did a runway turn. “How do I look?”

“Gorgeous. One expects no less.”

Emma laughed. “The hair up works, right? Just a little messy and ready to tumble.”

“It works. So does the dress. That deep red really suits you. And let me add, the workouts are paying off.”

“Yeah, I hate that part because it means I have to keep it up. Wrap or sweater?” she asked, holding a choice in either hand.

“Where are you going?”

“Art opening. Local artist, modern.”

“The wrap’s more arty, and aren’t you clever?”

“Am I?”

“Most people will be in black, so that red dress is going to pop. You could give lessons.”

“If you’re going to dress up, might as well get noticed, right? How about the shoes?”

Parker considered the peep-toe spikes with their sexy ankle straps. “Killers. Nobody with a Y chromosome is going to look at the paintings.”

“I’ve only got one Y chromosome in mind.”

“You look happy, Emma.”

“It’s hard not to, because I am. I’m involved with an interesting man who makes me laugh and makes me tingle, one who actually listens to what I have to say, and who knows me well enough I can be myself without any of the filters. And the same goes for him. I know he’s fun, funny, smart, not afraid to work, values his friends, is obsessed with sports. And . . . well, all the things you just know when you’ve been around someone for a dozen years the way we have.”

She led the way to her work area. “Some people might think that takes the discovery or the excitement out of things, but it doesn’t. There’s always something new, and there’s the stability of real understanding. I can be comfortable and excited around him at the same time.

“I went with the pink tulips and the mini iris. It’s cheerful, female, springy.”

“Yes, it’s perfect.” Parker waited while Emma took them out of the vase, adjusted the sheer white ribbon.

“I could add some lisianthus if you want it fuller.”

“No, it’s great. Just right. Emma,” Parker began as her friend coned the arrangement in clear, glossy paper, “do either of you know you’re in love with him?”