Beth Andrews - What Happens Between Friends

She was as ready as she’d ever be. Had psyched herself up about this ever since she’d received the party invitation two weeks ago. In mere minutes, what was destined to be a lifelong love affair would have its beginning.

Her steps slowed. She pressed a hand against her roiling stomach. There was no need to be nervous. No need at all. All she had to do was walk into the kitchen. Make idle chitchat. It wasn’t as if she’d never spoken to the man before. They’d had plenty of conversations, had known each other for, well, her entire life, practically.

Char rubbed her fingertips against her palms. Inhaled a deep, calming breath, blew it—and all the tension and worry she held—out.

Sending up a prayer she would be successful, she stepped up to the doorway.

James and Leo Montesano were the only two inside. Could she really be blamed if she stood there, just out of sight, and took in the sight of two tall, dark, handsome men? If her heart sighed at knowing one would, soon enough, be hers?

They both had on jeans, but while James was dressed for the party in a blue button-down shirt, Leo had on a black V-neck T-shirt that clung to his muscular frame. James leaned against the counter near the stove, his arms straight, his fingers curled around the curved edge. At the sink, Leo—tall, broad-shouldered and handsome as sin with his floppy dark hair and sexy grin—was up to his elbows in soapy water. James said something and smiled as Leo laughed, the sound deep, masculine and enticing as all get-out.

Warmth bloomed in her chest. Glancing up, she mouthed thank you for her prayer about to be answered.

“Need any help?” she asked, making sure her voice was light and bright.

Both men glanced over. And being pinned with those dark eyes made her mouth go dry.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” Leo said, rinsing a large tray under the running water at the sink. “How do you feel about washing dishes?”

Char smiled widely—the better to show the dimple in her left cheek to its full potential. “I’ve got nothing against it.”

Leo gave a masculine whoop, quickly dried his hands on the towel tucked into his waistband and crossed to her in a few long strides. Before she realized what was happening, he wrapped his arms around her waist, lifted her as if she weighed no more than a five-year-old and spun her around. Laughing, she gripped his shoulders, the muscles bunching and flexing under her hands.

“You’re an angel,” he said in his husky voice. “The answer to my prayers. A—”

“Guest,” James finished. He scowled. “Quit twirling her around like a rag doll and stop trying to weasel your way out of your chore.”

Leo stopped and set her back on her feet, but her head still spun. “I don’t mind,” she said breathlessly.

Leo slung his arm around her shoulders, pressing her against his side. “Yeah, she doesn’t mind.”

“She might not, but Mom will,” James said.

Leo winked at Char as his pager beeped. “Unlike birthday boy here, I’m not afraid of my mother.”

“Better come over here,” James told her, wrapping his fingers around her upper arm and tugging her to his side as Leo read the pager’s screen. “It’s only a matter of time before lightning fries his lying ass.”

“Three-car accident on Jefferson Street,” Leo said, grabbing a set of car keys from the windowsill. “Who’s on tonight?”

Char worked in the E.R. and saw Leo, a firefighter and EMT, often. Most firefighters had their favorite and least-favorite doctors. At the bottom of Leo’s list, she knew, was Dr. Nathan Hamilton.

Hamilton, an obnoxious, sexist creep, was at the bottom of most people’s list, including hers.

“Wertz was there when I left,” she said, “but Goldberg is taking the night shift.”

Nodding, he slapped James on the back. “Gotta run. Happy birthday, bro.” He sent her another devastating grin. Her knees went just a little weak. Hey, she was human after all. “See you around, gorgeous.”

“When did you get here?” James asked as Leo went out the back door.

She crossed to the sink. “A few minutes ago.”

A few minutes. Twenty minutes. What was the difference? Had he been waiting for her? Looking for her? Could she get that lucky?

“None of that.” This time he encircled her wrist and led her to the island. “You are not doing the dishes. Don’t let Leo sweet-talk you into...anything. Ever.” He squeezed her hand, his touch leaving tingles of sensation against her skin. “Now, let’s get you a drink. Wine?”

Since speech was impossible, she nodded. When he turned his back to pour a glass of deep red wine, she rubbed the pad of her thumb over the area where he’d touched her, could have sworn she still felt the heat of his fingers.

“Leo’s a flirt,” she finally managed to say, “and he doesn’t discriminate based on looks, age or marital status. All the women in the E.R. are half in love with him.”

He raised his eyebrows. “All?”

Was he jealous? She could only hope. “Maybe not all,” she said huskily, sending him a look from under her lashes.

“Good.” He handed her the wine, didn’t seem to notice her sexy tone or seductive look. She would have to work on them. “You’re way too good for my brother. Don’t ever forget that.”

She wanted to giggle like a schoolgirl. Wanted to swear to James—as in, cross her heart and hope to die—that she had absolutely zero interest in becoming the next woman to warm Leo’s bed. “I won’t.”

It was an easy enough promise to make. Sure, Leo had that whole charming, playboy thing going on, and he resembled a Roman god with his sharply chiseled face and dark eyes. But he wasn’t the kind of man a woman could count on. Wasn’t the type of man Char wanted to spend the rest of her life with. She wanted a husband who was smart and responsible and successful. A man who would be there for her and their kids, who would be committed to his own career and supportive of hers, and active in the community they both loved.

James Montesano was going to make the perfect husband.

“I hear you’re looking to buy a place of your own,” he said.

She sipped her wine, hid a grimace. Yuck. She couldn’t stand the stuff. No matter what kind she tried, it always tasted like cough syrup. But if James drank wine, then she’d drink it.

And wish it was a beer instead.

“I’ve had enough of renting. It’s time I had something that’s mine, you know? A home, not just an apartment where I happen to sleep. And with Jenn getting married next spring, it seems like the right time.”

“Your roommate’s getting married? Isn’t she a little young?”

“She’s my age, so not so young.”

“Your age is plenty young,” he said, as if he was ancient.

Char pretended to take another drink. She’d wondered if the age difference would bother him. While she couldn’t say it thrilled her to have him think she was a little young, at least she now knew where she stood. And knowing was half the battle.

“You sound like Daddy.” As she’d hoped, he frowned at being compared to a middle-aged man. Good. Maybe that would help him realize he was still in the prime of his life. And having a wife ten years younger would only help keep him young.

“He wants me to move back home,” she continued, “which is so not going to happen.” Holding her glass with two hands, she let out a very put-upon-sounding sigh. “I just wish it wasn’t so hard finding a decent house. The last two I looked at in my price range were horrendous. I swear, I thought they were going to fall down around my ears. Luckily, I found one I think will work, but I have no idea if it’s worth the asking price or how much I’ll have to put into it. The real-estate agent said it needed a new roof, but what if there are other problems, ones that aren’t as easy to spot? The building inspector said he couldn’t get to it for at least a month and there’s no sense asking my dad.” She gave an exaggerated eye roll. “He’s no help whatsoever.”