Adrian stopped in the midst of sweeping the newly fallen snow from the front porch to watch the red truck pull up her driveway. Rooke. She hadn’t expected to see her until later in the week when Rooke was scheduled to start work on the roof, and a warm buzz of anticipation fluttered in her depths. Damn, and here she was in ratty old sweatpants and a shapeless flannel shirt. As soon as she caught herself having that uncharacteristic concern, she laughed to herself. What was she, fifteen with her first crush on the center of the basketball team? Rooke climbed out of the truck, and Adrian forgot all about Marcie Fitzgerald and high school basketball. The real thing was so much better.

Rooke looked tight and tough in her black jeans, black hooded sweatshirt, and work boots, and the flutter turned to something hotter and more urgent, deep down inside. Adrian didn’t want to think about the whys or the wherefores of her reaction. She’d spent enough time doing that the day before and hadn’t found any answers. Leaning her broom against the wall, she started to wave and then halted, frowning as Rooke circled around the front of the truck to open the passenger-side door.

Adrian’s euphoria shattered like thin ice over black water as Melinda gingerly stepped out onto the snow-covered drive. When Rooke reached out to steady her, Melinda casually looped her arm through Rooke’s as if she’d done it a thousand times before. Even from a distance, Melinda looked hot, her every movement a study in seduction.

Melinda’s proprietary claim on Rooke drifted on the air with the feral scent of ownership. If Adrian had hackles, they’d be standing up like

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a ridge of razor blades down her back. Folding her arms beneath her breasts and planting her legs at the top of the stairs, she watched them approach. Rooke’s gaze was fixed somewhere to the left of Adrian’s face, but Melinda’s eyes were on hers, alight with amused laughter and sultry challenge. Adrian’s mood wasn’t helped by the fact that they looked stunning together—Rooke’s dark good looks were the perfect contrast to Melinda’s shimmering gold hair and glinting emerald gaze.

Pheromones twisted through the bitter cold air and Adrian’s temper lashed when an unwelcome heat blazed between her thighs.

“I’m sorry, darling,” Melinda said, smiling up at her from the path.

“We’ve taken you by surprise. We should have called.”

We. Since when was there a we attached to Melinda and Rooke?

And what were they doing together at nine in the morning? For one mind-burning moment, Adrian envisioned Melinda arched in ecstasy, Rooke’s sensuous mouth at her breast and Rooke’s wide, strong hand buried inside her. Fury like none she’d ever known surged through her, and she screamed in silent protest. No, you won’t have her. She’s mine!

Just as quickly, the image shattered and Adrian jerked, nearly gasping in shock. She was aware of Rooke regarding her with a worried expression, and she could only imagine how she must look, because she’d felt as if she were about to launch herself off the porch and tear Melinda in two.

Desperately, she took a shuddering breath and struggled for calm. This wasn’t her. She didn’t crave this way, she didn’t hunger this irrationally.

And she never, ever wanted so completely.

“No need to call,” Adrian said, inwardly ecstatic that her voice sounded cool and composed. “I was just trying to get ahead of the storm while there’s a break in the action. Come inside.”

As she led them back to the kitchen, she noted Rooke easing her arm free of Melinda’s grasp and a tiny bit of the tension gathered in the center of her chest relented. A small victory, but she enjoyed it.

“Please, have a seat. I’m afraid the parlor isn’t habitable right now.” Adrian gestured to the coffeemaker. “Coffee? Tea? Muffins?

Fresh baked.”

“No, but thank you,” Melinda purred as she removed her coat and settled next to Rooke at the table. She crossed her legs and draped one arm along the back of Rooke’s chair. “I have to catch the train shortly, but before I do, I needed to ask you a favor.”

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“Really?” Adrian hoped her pleasure at Melinda’s imminent departure wasn’t obvious. “What do you need?”

Melinda’s gaze flicked from Rooke to Adrian and she laughed softly. “Nothing very complicated, not right now. I need you to help me convince Rooke to let me have her wonderful sculptures for a show at the end of the month.” She fanned her crimson nails over the back of Rooke’s neck. “They’re every bit as brilliant as I anticipated.”

“You’ve seen them.” A cold hard weight settled in the pit of Adrian’s stomach. Foolish as it might be, the idea of Rooke having shared something so personal with Melinda was almost as devastating as the thought of them sleeping together. Adrian turned away, knowing she couldn’t mask the hurt in her eyes, and bought herself time to regain her composure by stacking blueberry muffins on a plate. She set them on the table along with plates.

“Not all of them.” Rooke answered before Melinda could respond, unsettled by the distance she’d sensed from Adrian the moment she’d started up the snow-covered driveway from the truck. Now Adrian’s hands were trembling. She’d done something to upset her, and she wasn’t sure what. “Just the four that go with the one she already purchased. They’re a series.”

“A magnificent one,” Melinda interjected. “And it so happens I’ve got an opening for a new artist launch in several weeks. I want Rooke for it. The event is part of our regular calendar, so it’s already had significant promotion, and I’m sure it will have an excellent turnout.”

She leaned closer to Rooke, one hand on Rooke’s thigh. “Believe me, love, you won’t be sorry.”

“How do you feel about it?” Adrian said quietly, watching Rooke and ruthlessly blocking the sound of Melinda’s murmured love. She wouldn’t let her uncharacteristic jealousy get in the way of something Rooke wanted. Melinda was aggressive, professionally and personally, but her reputation was well deserved. This kind of opportunity might never come along again for Rooke.

“I…” Rooke struggled for clarity, reminded of the twisting chaos of the dream the night before and momentarily swamped by conflicting emotions and foreign sensations. Adrian’s unhappiness, Melinda’s persistent desire, a lifetime of being discounted washed over her, drowning her in uncertainty. She shuddered.

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“It’s all right, no matter what you want,” Adrian whispered, torn by the misery she read in Rooke’s eyes. Rooke needed her friendship right now, and wasn’t friendship about putting personal needs second?

Had she just been lying to herself when she’d told Jude that’s what she wanted between them? Since when was she afraid to face reality? If Rooke wanted Melinda and what Melinda could offer her, then better to know that now. Better that all of them know. “You can always change your mind later. Either way.”

Are you stupid? Are you stupid, or just crazy? As a child Rooke had been wounded by the taunts, as an adult she’d learned to ignore them. She wondered if she kept her work a secret because she was afraid of hearing the same words again. What would it matter even if she did? She knew the truth, didn’t she? She thought about Melinda and Adrian, two women who made their way in the world in a way she had never been able to, choosing their own paths, fearless and brave. What had she ever done except hide? What did she have to offer…anyone?

“I want to do it,” Rooke said firmly.

“You won’t be sorry.” Melinda kissed her cheek. “Trust me.”

Rooke tensed as warm, moist lips moved over her skin and Melinda’s fingers played along the muscles in her thigh. Emma had kissed her on the cheek, now and then, but as if by unspoken agreement, Emma had never touched her intimately anywhere on her body. No one had ever touched her that way. Even as Melinda’s soft kiss and faint caress stirred unfamiliar responses, she searched Adrian’s face for a reaction. But Adrian’s eyes were shadowed, her expression closed. The distance she’d felt earlier yawned even greater between them now.

“You must come down to the city early next week,” Melinda pronounced, rising and collecting her coat. “We’ll need a photo shoot and I’ll arrange some interviews and launch parties.” She skimmed her fingers through Rooke’s hair. “Believe me, love, you’re going to enjoy this.”

“I can’t come so soon,” Rooke protested. She wasn’t ready, but she couldn’t admit to these women why. She’d never been to New York City. She’d never been on the train by herself. She’d never stayed in a hotel. “I have work to finish here—” She pointed upward. “Adrian’s roof and her chimney. Plus, I’ve got markers to carve.”

Melinda laughed. “Oh, if I hadn’t met you in person, I’d never believe you were for real. I’m going to have a hard time keeping people

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from fighting over you.” She glanced at Adrian. “Tell her those things will keep for a while. She listens to you.”

Rooke frowned, feeling as if there was a conversation going on that she couldn’t hear. “I can decide for myself.”

“You can,” Adrian said, refusing to play Melinda’s game. Even though she was hurt that Rooke trusted Melinda enough to share her sculptures and a little bit crazy with Melinda fawning over Rooke, she wouldn’t deliver Rooke to Melinda as if she were simply a piece on a chessboard. She’d spent enough time with Rooke to recognize an undercurrent of unease in her voice. Guessing what bothered Rooke about this seismic change in her world landscape wasn’t much of a leap, and she doubted that Melinda knew of Rooke’s reading challenge.