Нора Робертс - Savour the Moment

“Chocolate butter cake, with white chocolate mousse filling, frosted in broad strokes with fudge frosting.”

“Triple threat.”

“They like chocolate.All that’s offset with alternate layers of red geranium blossoms on flower foam trays. Emma’s making interlocking geranium hearts for the topper. Now should I ask about your day?”

“No need to be bitchy”

She sighed because he was right. “You stole my shoes,” she pointed out, and gave in to the scent of the food.

“

Stole is a strong word.”

“They’re mine, you took them without permission.” She bit into a pot sticker. God, she did have a weakness.

“How much are they worth to you?”

“They’re just shoes, Del.”

“Please.” He made a dismissive noise as he waved one hand. “I have a sister. I know the value you people put on footwear.”

“Okay, okay, what do you want? Money? Baked goods? Household chores?”

“All viable options. But this is nice for a start. You should try the sweet-and-sour.”

“What, this is nice? This?” She nearly choked on the beer. “Like this is some kind of a date?”

“Two people, food, drink, pretty evening. It has datelike elements.”

“It’s a drop-in. It’s a ransom drop. It’s . . .” She stopped herself because the jitters were back. “All right, let’s clear the air. I feel I started something. Something or ...”

“Other?” he suggested.

“Okay, something or other. Because I was in a mood, and I acted impulsively, which caused you to reciprocate the impulse. And I see now, I certainly see knowing you, that the ‘we’re even’ remark was a gauntlet thrown.You couldn’t leave that alone, so you took my damn shoes. And now there’s Chinese and beer and the whole dusk falling light show, when we both know perfectly well you’ve never thought about me this way.”

He considered for a moment. “That’s not accurate. An accurate statement would be I’ve tried not to think about you this way.”

More than a little stunned she sat back. “How’d you do with that?”

“Hmm.” He lifted a hand, turned it side to side.

She stared at him. “Damn you, Del.”

HE COULDN’T SAY IT WAS THE REACTION HE’D EXPECTED, BUT WITH Laurel that was often the case.

“Damn me for what, exactly?”

“Because it’s exactly the right thing to say.You’re good at saying exactly the right thing, except when you say the completely wrong thing. But it’s usually the right thing anyway, just that I didn’t want to hear it.”

“You should’ve been a lawyer.”

“I’m eating another pot sticker,” she muttered.

She’d always delighted him, he thought, except when she’d irritated him. It was probably the same thing.

“Do you remember when we were all over at Emma’s parents’ for Cinco de Mayo?”

“Of course I remember.” She scowled at her beer. “I had too much tequila, which is only natural under the circumstances because, hello, Cinco de Mayo.”

“I think that’s

hola.”

“Har-har. You played big brother and sat with me on the front porch steps.”

“It’s not playing big brother to have some mild concern for a friend in a tequila haze. But anyway.” He scooped some sweet-and-sour onto her plate with his chopsticks. “Earlier Jack and I were standing around, and I was scoping the crowd, the way you do.”

“The way

you do.”

“Okay. I spot this blue dress with a great pair of legs and ...” He made a vague gesture that gave her a clear picture of the

and. “I thought, nice, very nice indeed, and made some mention of same to Jack. He pointed out that the legs and the rest I happened to be scoping were yours. It gave me a hell of a jolt, I admit.” He gauged her reaction, judged surprise led the way. “In the interest of full disclosure, I also admit it wasn’t the first time. So whether or not it was the right thing to say, it was accurate.”

“I’m not a pair of legs, or an

and.”

“No, but they’re still very nice.You’re a beautiful woman.That’s also accurate. Some have a weakness for pot stickers, some for beautiful women.”

She looked past him, toward the deepening shadows. “That should piss me off.”

“You’re also one of my oldest and most important friends.” Teasing no longer colored his tone. “That matters, a lot.”

“It does.” She pushed her plate away before she made herself sick.

“I think it’s also accurate to say something unexpected, or at least surprising, hit when you acted on impulse the other night.”

As dusk thickened, his garden and patio lights sent out a soft glow, and in the distance a loon’s eerie wail echoed. It struck him as oddly romantic, and somehow suitable.

“You’re being awfully delicate about it.”

“Well, it’s a first date,” he said and made her laugh.

“I just came for the shoes.”

“No, you didn’t.”

She let out a breath. “Maybe not, but I had this plan, banking on you being out on an actual date where I’d sneak in, take back my shoes, and leave you a clever note.”

“Then you’d have missed all this. So would I.”

“There you go again,” she murmured. “I think part of my thing here is a direct result of my sexual moratorium.”

Amused, he tipped up his beer. “How’s that going for you?” “All too well. I’m probably a little more—what’s the delicate term? Itchy, more itchy than usual these days.”

“In the spirit of friendship I could take you upstairs and help you scratch that itch. But that doesn’t really work for me.”

She started to say she could scratch her own itch, thanks all the same, but decided that was too much information, even between friends. So she shrugged instead.

“It’s not like Jack and Emma,” he said.

“Jack and Emma aren’t scratching an itch. They’re—”

“Simmer down, Quickdraw,” he said mildly. “That’s not what I meant.They were friends—are friends—but they became friends, what, ten or twelve years ago? That’s a long time, but you and I? It’s basically our whole lives. We’re not just friends, we’re family. Not in an illegal and incestuous way that makes this conversation creepy, but family. Tribal,” he decided. “We’re from the same tribe, you could say.”

“Tribal.” She tried it out. “You have been thinking about this. And I can’t disagree with you about any of that.”

“Which is a nice change. We’re talking about changes, and not just for us, but for, well, the tribe.”

“I bet you get to be chief.” With her elbow on the table, she propped her chin on her hand. “You always get to be chief.”

“You can be chief if you can beat me arm-wrestling.”

She was strong—she prided herself on it. But she also knew her limits. “And being tribal chief you’ve already decided how this should go.”

“I have what you could call an outline. What would be a draft of an outline.”

“You’re so like Parker. Maybe that’s part of it. If Parker were a guy, or we were both gay, we’d be married. Which would mean I’d never have to date again. My annoyance thereof the key cause for the sexual moratorium. And very likely this conversation.”

“Do you want to hear the outline?”

“Yes, but I’m passing on the quiz that follows.”

“We give it a month.”

“Give what a month?”

“The adjustment. Seeing each other this way. We go out, stay in, have conversations, socialize, engage in recreational activities. We date, like people do when they’re easing into a different dynamic. And, given the tribal connection, and given what I assume is a mutual desire to limit potential damage to our current connection—”

“Now who’s the lawyer?”

“Given that,” he went on,“though it gives me no pleasure, literally, we continue the sexual moratorium.”

“You’d also be in a sexual moratorium?”

“Fair’s fair.”

“Hmm.” She switched from beer to water. “We do all the stuff normal, consenting, unattached adults do with each other, but no sex, with each other or anyone else?”

“That’s the idea.”

“For thirty days.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“Why the thirty?”

“It’s a reasonable time line for both of us to determine if we want to take it to the next step. It’s a big step, Laurel. You matter too much to me to rush it.”

“Dating’s harder than sex.”

He laughed. “Who the hell have you been dating? I’ll try to make it easy for you. How about we catch a movie after the event on Sunday? Just a movie.”

She angled her head. “Who picks the flick?”

“We’ll negotiate. No tearjerker.”

“No horror.”

“Agreed.”

“Maybe you should draw up a contract.”

He took the dig with a shrug. “If you’ve got a better idea, I’m open.

“I don’t have any idea. I never thought we’d get to a point where I would need an idea. How about we just sleep together and call it even?”

“Okay.” When her mouth dropped open, he grinned. “I not only know you, but I know a bluff when I hear one.”

“You don’t know everything.”

“No, I don’t. I think that’s part of it, and I guess we’d better take some time and find out. I’m in if you are.”

She studied the attractive and familiar face, the calm eyes, the easy posture. “We’ll probably want to murder each other half the time.”

“That won’t be anything new In or out, Laurel?”

“In.” She offered a hand to close the deal.

“I think this calls for more than a handshake.” But he took her hand, used it to draw her to her feet along with him. “Plus we should see what it’s like when neither of us is irritated.”

A little frisson, as much anticipation as nerves, jittered up her spine. “Maybe I am.”