

By

* * * *

Thursday Nights

Copyright © 2013 by Lisa N. Paul

Cover Design by Okay Creations (https://okaycreations.com/)

Formatting by JT Formatting (http://www.facebook.com/JTFormatting)

Super Dandy Publishing

ISBN: 978-0989246521

All rights reserved.

Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the author of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners:

AAA, Baileys, Batgirl, Big Red, Cheers, Circus Peanuts, CliffsNotes, Converse, Ferrari, Ferrari Spider, Fruity Pebbles, Henley, Hershey Kisses, Jeep, Jetta, John Mayer, Maroon 5, Pink, Ferrari, Ferrari Spider, Post-it, Philadelphia Eagles, Rolodex, Starbucks, Seinfeld, the Soup Nazi, Spiderman, Top Gun, University of Pittsburgh, the Vampire Diaries.

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

***

### Table of Contents

Title Page

Prologue

Chapter One – Words, Janie, I Need Words

Chapter Two – A Details Kind of Girl

Chapter Three – Get Un-Angry

Chapter Four – Expecting Someone Else?

Chapter Five – Are you Sure You Can Spare It?

Chapter Six – That Went Well . . . No?

Chapter Seven – Stoopid Girls

Chapter Eight – Those Two

Chapter Nine – Greek Yogurt

Chapter Ten – You'd Better Be

Chapter Eleven – More Than One Step

Chapter Twelve – She Was My Wife

Chapter Thirteen – Is This A Bribe?

Chapter Fourteen – Circus Peanuts

Chapter Fifteen – I'm Done Pretending

Epilogue

AVAILABLE NOW!

COMING JULY 2014

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Preview of Running on Empty by L. B. Simmons

For Jodi

Because of you Thursday nights are more than just another night of the week.

Thank you for the love and the inspiration. You mean the world to me. Raise your glass!

For Daddy

While you never got to see the finished product,

you were so damn proud of the process.

Thank you for believing in me.

I miss you.

***

Seven Years Earlier

IT WAS TIME to start moving on.

It had been six months since Max found out his wife had been cheating on him, again, and was having a baby with the bastard. Six months since she'd left him standing in the driveway, watching her leave. Six months since her car was sideswiped, and the woman he had spent more than ten years loving, was killed. He hated what she'd done to him; but he'd spent those months mourning the loss of the life he knew and the woman he loved. No more.

Max slid his feet into his boots and headed for the kitchen. Swiping his keys and wallet off the counter, he opened the door to his apartment and came face-to-face with his deceased wife's parents. Two people who had hated him for years.

"Oh, Max..." Mrs. Smyth stammered, "We were just about to knock."

Through the anxious and claustrophobic feeling overwhelming him, Max found his voice, "I was just heading out for the night. Is there something I can do for you?"

Mr. Smyth looked down at him with sad but serious eyes, "Just a half hour of your time...please, Max."

Being six foot three, there were few people taller than Max, but Mr. Smyth was one of them. Back in the day, he swore that his father-in-law loved looking down on him in more ways than just physically. Max's mind was reeling, the man had even said _please_. He didn't want to be with these people, but his curiosity kept him standing still. What could they possibly have to say that he'd want to hear? Yet, how could he say no to the only thing they had ever asked of him?

Max nodded and led his former in-laws into the main room of his new apartment. He paced the floor, making a path on the newly laid carpet as he tried to contain his breath, and steeled himself for the reason of their surprise visit.

"Max," said Mrs. Smyth, or Gina, as she now insisted on being called. "We know you probably don't have anything to say to us. Lord knows you probably don't want to hear anything we have to say... but we've been trying to get in touch with you for almost six months."

He stopped pacing and looked at the woman who stood in front of him. Her platinum hair was perfectly coiffed and her designer clothes, professionally pressed. The diamonds in her ears and on her left hand were probably worth more than what he made in a year. She was the model image of what money _could_ buy, but when his gaze traveled up to her face he saw that time had not been kind. Gina looked tired and old; the deep purple smudges under her eyes spoke of the sleepless nights Max himself knew so well.

"You have my attention, Gina," Max said with a little too much bite. Harvey reached for his wife and gently guided her to sit down on the couch.

"Chloe was always...troubled," Gina started to explain as Max sat on the chair facing the couple, "She was the reason we moved from Texas to Pennsylvania in the first place. Chloe suffered from depression. She was emotionally needy and, when it suited her, manipulative. Back in Texas, she had a boyfriend, and when they broke up she swore the boy had harmed her."

Max watched the grimace on Harvey's face as he picked up where Gina left off. "Chloe had threatened to kill herself if she had to see the boy at school anymore. Coincidently, a job position had opened up in Pennsylvania when all this was happening, so we decided to make the move and give her a fresh start."

The man paused to assess Max's expression. Blank.

"Of course, we weren't here a full week before she met you," Harvey added without a bit of animosity, "I did some asking around and heard you were a good kid, so I stepped back."

"Then why did you hate me so much?" Max finally asked the question that had tugged at him for years.

Looking at each other, and then turning sympathetic eyes to Max, Chloe's parents said in unison, "We didn't."

Max pulled his fingers through his hair in frustration as his heart began to thrum in his chest. "What the hell? I saw the way you looked at me. You never accepted me or my relationship with your daughter." He could feel the flush rising in his neck, "Chloe said so herself!"

Harvey quietly leaned forward, hands on the knees of his designer suit, "Son..."

"I am _not_ your son," Max insisted, his voice loud but shaking. Standing, he clenched his fists, knuckles white. "You hated me. You never once looked me in the eye. You even disowned her for marrying me. I've never been anything to you," Max spat. "Why are you here?" His voice was a shout now, the emotion becoming harder and harder to tamp down.

"Sit down, Max." Harvey's eyes pleaded, but his voice was firm, "You need to hear what we have to say, and then I promise; you will never have to see us again."

Not knowing what else to do, Max sat back down but didn't release his fists. Harvey inhaled deeply, laced his fingers with Gina's, and continued.

"We knew you loved our daughter from the first moment we saw the way you looked at her. You were still just a boy, but your devotion to her was that of a man. But we also saw the other side of the relationship—her side. When the two of you were still in high school and she'd be alone in her room on the phone with her friends," Harvey said thoughtfully, "she would say how she had you wrapped around her finger. That was when Gina and I finally admitted that Chloe had bigger problems than depression. We felt horrible that we let it get so out of control and that you got wrapped up in a mess that we maybe could've stopped." Harvey looked at a silent Max, an emotion on his face that Max had never seen there before—embarrassment.

Gina's gentle voice permeated the fog that was taking over Max's thoughts. "We tried to talk to her, we begged her to stop seeing you. But she told us to mind our own business. She said she loved you and this time was going to be different. We wanted to believe her...we really did. Then we started to hear the way she manipulated you about your going away to college _._ She didn't want you to go. We hoped you would leave anyway, but you didn't. When we told your parents our fears, they agreed to talk to you. But honey, nothing worked."

Max couldn't believe his ears. His parents had met with Chloe's? Why didn't they ever tell him? _Would you have listened?_ His inner voice asked, even though he already knew the answer. After all, he never went to West Chester University, did he?

Gina continued her account of the past. "We'd hoped she would finally let go of you when she went away to college herself, but that was when she told us she planned to marry you. All the while she was seeing other guys behind your back." Gina looked down at her hands, "When we threatened to tell you about her cheating, she just laughed and said, 'Tell him! He loves me, he'll never believe you.' That was the same summer you and Chloe moved in together." Max thought back—it was the summer that she told him she wanted to get married.

"My God," Max whispered his voice breaking, "I was no more than a toy to her; a puppet." He walked over to his liquor cabinet and poured himself a healthy shot of bourbon. His stomach felt tight as he looked at the two people on his sofa. _How was this happening? How could he have been so blind?_ He tried to focus on the familiar taste of the amber liquid and its slow burn down his throat, into his belly, instead of the sharp pain of the words flying out of the Smyths' mouths like darts, each one hitting the red bull's-eye.

Eyes glassy with unshed tears, Gina explained how over the years they'd kept in touch with Max's parents because Chloe refused to return their phone calls or answer their letters. She had always managed to cash their monthly checks though.

"What? You were sending her money? I don't understand. She never told—" Max's brain was on overload.

"No, Max," Harvey said in a deep voice laced with pain. "We were sending _both of you_ money; large amounts actually. The checks were written in both of your names; yet every time we spoke to your parents, they would tell us how hard you were working to make ends meet so you could one day buy your wife the house of her dreams. We never told your parents about the money we sent, but our bank statements showed the checks had been deposited. I don't know why we kept sending it..." Harvey looked at his perfectly shined shoes and sighed, "I guess it allowed us to feel like we were still part of her life in some way." Max stood and walked to the counter, his hand shaking as he poured another drink, "We must have sent over a million dollars in the ten years that you lived together."

Max choked on his alcohol. _A million dollars? Christ!_

"Where did she put the money? What was she saving it for?" Max's mouth asked the questions, but his heart already knew the answer, "She was saving it for when she left me, wasn't she?" he asked quietly. He paused and looked at the guilty faces staring back at him. "Wasn't she?" he yelled.

The boom of his voice visibly startled Chloe's parents, but they made no move to answer his question. They didn't have to—the writing was on the wall. They knew she hadn't told him about the checks, yet they continued to give her money. They knew somewhere in their heart of hearts that betrayal would be her end game, and they stood back and stayed silent.

"Max..." Gina spoke so quietly Max had to focus to hear her, "I know our words must hold no value to you, but we had no idea that Chloe was hiding the money. We didn't even think to look for it until after she died. At the hospital, when you announced that she was carrying another man's baby...well, that was the first we had heard about her cheating on you since you'd gotten married. We always hoped that she'd stopped once you were married, and while we weren't surprised by her behavior, honey, we were horrified by the consequences of her actions. She really did hurt one of the nicest, kindest, most trusting men around. There are not enough _I'm sorry's_ to make up for our regret."

Max's heart was pounding. He could hear the blood flowing through his ears, and he couldn't think of anything coherent to say. He just stood there, holding his glass and staring at the amber liquid in front of him.

Harvey and Gina stood up and walked over to Max; tears inched down both of their tired, pained faces. Harvey placed an envelope on the counter next to the bourbon.

"Here are the documents regarding the bank account where Chloe kept the money. Everything has been changed over into your name. You may not want it now, but it is your money. Thank you for loving our daughter. We're sorry that it came at such an awful expense for so many years. Hopefully, one day, happiness will find you...until then, we hope this helps."

The man patted him on the shoulder, and then the soft click of the apartment door told him he was alone.

That was exactly how he intended to stay _._

JANIE BLEW ON her Grande Starbucks as she waited for her friend to arrive. Watching people order their complicated drinks and seeing the annoyed baristas roll their eyes at the incorrect ordering procedure always reminded her of the Seinfeld episode with the Soup Nazi. The thought made her smile as she sipped her cup of liquid energy. Even in a small shop just outside Philadelphia, the crowd was big and anxious.

The ease of the moment seeped out of Janie's body only to be replaced with tension as a woman's voice shouted, "Come on, kid, move! I don't have time for your crap!" The only thing more upsetting than the sound of the irritation coming from the mother's voice was the look of complete surrender on the little girl's face. When her tear-filled brown eyes met Janie's, Janie could feel her heartbeat quicken, and the memory crashed into her like a wave, pulling her under and keeping her there.

She was only eight years old when she watched the youngest of her older siblings happily pack the last of his belongings into his beat-up station wagon. Her mother had been in the kitchen, drunk and screaming about all the sacrifices she had made for her "ungrateful excuses for children" and how they could all just go to hell. Janie had followed Evan around, watching him load up his odds and ends.

"Please, Evan, don't leave me here with her. She's so mean," Janie had begged him; but Evan ignored her pleas, just like the three siblings before him.

As he was leaving the house for the last time, he'd looked at her—not in the eyes, never in the eyes, "Sorry kid, you're on your own. Take care." Then he left.

Janie had watched him drive away until she could no longer see his car. When she heard her mother's voice, she reached up and wiped the tears from her eyes.

"Kid," her mother had said, "get your shit and get out. I'm having company for at least a couple of hours. When the door is unlocked, you can come back in, but not before. You understand?"

Janie nodded, grabbed a blanket and her favorite book, and left the house. _At least it's a hot day and it won't be too cold once the sun goes down_ , Janie remembered thinking.

"I don't wanna see you too soon, kid," her mother had shouted as she slammed the door.

"Why did they even bother giving me a name?" She'd whispered to herself as she headed toward the park.

Janie had sat on a park bench with her legs pulled up to her chest as she allowed herself to escape into the fairy tales she was reading. On that day, like every day before, and all the days after, she promised herself that she would find someone who would love her someday. She would find someone who, unlike her father and her siblings, wouldn't abandon her, and unlike her mother, would actually make her feel special and treasured. _Someday._

"Janie? Earth to Janie. You in there?"

Janie gasped at the sound of her best friend's voice and took in a deep breath.

"Where were you just now, Jane?" Lyla asked.

"I was right here, Ly. Right here."

***

Words, Janie, I Need Words

"HEY, JANIE, THE girls are lookin' hot tonight," Lyla announced as she leaned over to give a playful squeeze to Janie's breasts.

"I know, right?" Janie laughed; the silliness familiar and comfortable. Janie could feel four pairs of lust-filled eyes glued to the breasts in question, as a group of men stared at her and Lyla from across the bar. Then, as if by magic, another round of drinks appeared at their table, being carried by two of the leering men.

It was Thursday night. And just like every Thursday night, Lyla and Janie were at Danny's on Main, sipping cocktails and entertaining themselves—and their mostly male audience—by telling silly, sexy stories and sometimes-embellished tales. They found it funny, and maybe a little pathetic, how little it took to get a man's attention. Just the mere mention of words like _tits_ , _breasts_ , or _vagina_ and men would get pie-eyed. If the word _pussy_ came out of either woman's mouth, it was an all-out drool fest. Janie and Lyla couldn't help themselves; it was a way to let loose toward the end of a crazy workweek. Plus, the responses were always priceless, and the free drinks certainly didn't hurt.

Behind the bar, Max served up shots and poured beers while Janie recounted the details of her latest date with the _douche de jour_.

"So, let me get this straight," Lyla said as she seductively moved her thick, espresso-colored hair off her narrow shoulders, "That cheap loser actually told you to leave the tip?"

Janie nodded, her demure, teal eyes sparkling with the uncontainable mischief that always seemed to bubble to the surface when she was around Lyla. The two women knew they had a captive audience but refused to engage anyone but each other.

"So...what did you do?" Lyla lifted her glass to her lips, tipped it back, and then replaced it on its coaster, "Please tell me you didn't put any money on the table!"

Janie winked and took a long sip of her cocktail. "Ly, of course I put money on the table. It wasn't the waiter's fault my date was a cheap-ass jerk. But"—Janie sipped her drink again—"when he walked me to my door and leaned in for a kiss...I told him that neither his tongue nor his _tip_ were going anywhere near me."

Janie and Lyla broke into a fit of laughter, the men who'd been listening seemed equal parts aroused and ashamed. Their expressions only caused more hysterics from the two women.

Max, on the other hand, felt his protective instincts flare. He wanted to find that guy and teach him a thing or two about how to treat a woman. Since meeting and befriending Janie, he had thought she was attractive—no...not attractive, more than attractive...fucking gorgeous—and over the past month or two, he'd been finding himself wanting to protect her from everything, specifically men, that could hurt her. He had to remind himself to back off, to let go of the urge.

_You're no one's hero_ , he thought. _You don't do relationships. It's fuck and release. You get in, you get out, no one gets hurt._ Max gave himself a mental shake and tuned back into the conversation.

But Janie and Lyla weren't at their overcrowded table anymore; they now sat, perched on barstools, directly in front of him at the long, scarred, mahogany bar. Here, Max could look his fill without being too obvious.

"Girls, you've gotta stop torturing my customers. My insurance doesn't cover heart attacks caused by _Danny's Dolls_." The joke came from Danny, the bar's owner and namesake.

"Don't you mean _Danny's Domme's_?" Max added, with a tightness in his chest that didn't match his normally calm voice.

"Po-tay-to, pa-tah-to," Danny retorted with an easy smile.

Janie's eyes sparkled with mischief again, "Ly, do you get the feeling that Mr. Owner and Mr. Bartender are making fun of us?"

Lyla picked up the proverbial ball and ran with it, "Why, yes. Yes, Jane, I do. And I'm not sure what they're talking about. Just because the _boys_ who drink here get all goofy over a mild conversation about whether they like their women to have 'hardwood' or 'carpet' has _nothing_ to do with us." Lyla smirked as Max's Adam's apple bobbed down the thick column of his throat.

"You're right, Lyla," Janie giggled. "And what real man can't discuss whether or not he likes anal play?"

At the desperate look on Danny's face and the lustful look on Max's, both women burst out laughing again.

"You are all the same," Janie said, shaking her head.

"Eeeaasy," the women said in unison.

Janie and Lyla had been coming to Danny's on Main, for six months. It started out as just a Thursday night thing, but as the women got to know Danny and his wife, Julie, as well as the rest of the bar's staff, they all started spending time together in a social capacity. The two young women were more than customers now; they were more like family...or as close to family as Janie and Lyla had ever had. Over the past couple of months, the two women had even starting cooking dinner for the whole crew on Sunday nights. Since neither woman was close to her family, either by choice or circumstance, they had made Sunday night dinner their "family time" and invited Danny and Julie, Max, and the other bartenders—Ryan, Kyle, and Ashley—to join them—it was the one night of the week that Danny's on Main is closed. That's how close they'd become.

"All I'm saying is, I know you're both grown women, but I worry about you," Danny continued. "And I'm not sexist, but it's more dangerous for a woman to take home random guys from a bar." Danny wore his paternal face, the one that said _all joking stops now_. Looking directly at Lyla, he added _,_ "I can't keep up with all of the guys you take home any more than I would any of my boys, but I hope you're at least being safe."

Lyla's cheeks flushed slightly, and Janie watched her closely. She saw the flash of pain sweep across her best friend's gorgeous, heart-shaped face, before being neatly tucked away in the iron-clad box where her emotions choked and suffered, but stayed put.

"I'm safe, Danny. Thanks for pointing out that I'm a slut though." Lyla winked to imply that she was joking, even though Janie knew that she had taken Danny's caring comment personally. Lyla was always the first to recognize the bad in herself; even if she didn't publicly acknowledge it. Janie inserted herself into the conversation to take the attention off her friend.

"Ok, Danny, and my lecture is where?" Janie raised her eyebrows, her gaze focused on the man leaning comfortably on the end of the bar. Lyla reached over to Janie's lap and squeezed her hand in thanks.

"Janie..." Danny paused, looking at her thoughtfully, "Janie, you deserve much better than fucking losers like Richard."

"You mean Dick," Lyla chimed in.

Danny chuckled, "Whatever his name, that guy was an ass. He had no respect for you. Since then, all I've heard about are the assholes and douche bags you dated before him and the pussies you've gone out with since." With a softened glance, he said, "Wise up, girl."

Janie nodded, properly scolded.

In that moment, Max's brain finally lost the battle his body had been waging. Watching Janie step into the line of fire to protect Lyla and take on the unwanted attention herself, broke the dam that had been holding back the want and need he'd so carefully secured. He could no longer deny the desire he felt for the kind, sexy woman who sat in front of him. She had no idea how gorgeous she was and that naïveté just made her even hotter.

Staring at her thick, dark, shining hair, his eyes grazed over her every feature. The thought of tangling his fingers through all that silk and pulling it as he stared into her big, bright eyes made his hands itch. His gaze traveled to the plump, pink lips that tilted up in a small smile every time she looked at him. Oh, how he wanted to kiss and nibble those lips. There were so many things he wanted to do with her.

As his focus traveled down the column of her long neck, to the creamy, smooth skin of her chest and amply showing cleavage, his mouth began to water. Lyla was right; they looked delicious. His dick was as hard as granite. Thank God he was standing behind the bar. She was becoming a distraction he could no longer ignore. If he could have her just one night...maybe then he could finally get her out of his system. Then they could go back to being friends. He just had to mute the little voice in his head that screamed, " _Yeah...good luck with that!_ "

Max didn't realize he'd missed the end of Danny's fatherly "talking to" until he was jarred out of his fantasy by his boss's voice, "Max, get these girls a drink, on me."

Max placed the unordered Cosmos in front of each woman. He knew exactly what each of them wanted to drink based on their moods. It was definitely Cosmo time.

Lyla smirked. "Which girls, Danny?"

Janie shimmied her breasts together. "Maybe he means these girls, Ly."

A peal of laughter escaped the two women while Danny rolled his eyes, "They're impossible, Max...impossible, I say."

Max lifted one, dirty-blond eyebrow in response while trying his best to avoid the perfect globes on display in front of him. The gruff sound of Danny's chuckle couldn't be missed, but Max swore he heard Danny mumble into his beer, "Keepin' your eye on the prize, I see."

And with that, any seriousness that the moment had evaporated, and the mood went back to being playful.

"SO, THAT'S WHY I refuse to serve any one person more than eight shots of tequila!" Max grinned as he finished his story. Janie and Lyla wiped the tears of laughter from their eyes before they sipped their pink drinks again.

"And they really got _that_ tattoo _there_ and blamed you?!" Lyla asked through her hysterics. Max nodded, and Janie watched as he scrubbed his hand over his perpetual five o'clock shadow.

"My stomach actually hurts from laughing so hard!" Janie said, running her hands over her flat belly.

Lyla raised a brow at Max as she noticed the desire flare in his eyes when he watched her friend. He focused a trained gaze on Janie's hands.

"All right, I have to pee. I'll be right back," Janie announced to everyone and no one. She slid off her bar stool and headed for the bathroom. Max watched her slim hips sway as she walked away, his eyes slowly drifting lower...

"Max! I totally saw that," Lyla said, her voice husky, as soon as Janie was out of earshot.

"What exactly do you think you saw?" Max slowly shifted his green eyes from Janie's retreating form to a very-interested Lyla.

"You were checking out Janie. I knew it! I knew you were into her. Why haven't you said anything?"

"Lyla, for someone who thinks she knows everything, sometimes...you don't have a clue." Max's smile and tone were laid back, just like the man himself, but his self-control was beginning to fray. The rag he was using to wipe down the bar was held tightly in his hand. Looking down as he scrubbed the same spot over and over, he wondered if it was worth risking his friendship with Janie for just one night. His gaze slowly lifted from the bar as Janie strutted back to her seat. _It would be one smokin' night_ , his libido shouted.

Janie's face was pinched with disgust as she hopped back up on the stool. "Danny, you may want to get someone into the bathroom. Uh, some poor girl had too much to drink..."

"Great..." Danny sighed and excused himself to deal with the mess. Obviously it wasn't the first time he'd had to handle a messy bathroom, but the job never got more pleasant.

Janie felt bad about anyone having to face the shitstorm she had just seen, but it had to be done. "So....um...what were we talking about before nature called?"

"Alcohol, tattoos, and sex with friends," Lyla responded with purpose, clearly happy with the seed she had planted. Max's nostrils flared slightly as he sent Lyla an evil stare, his knuckles whitening over the rag he was using to wipe the bar top...again. Her gaze then settled on her best friend. She knew exactly what was going on in that pretty little head of Janie's just by the way she was trying to sneak a look Max. If there was ever a kitten-to-a-bowl-of-cream metaphor to be used, now was the time.

JANIE COULD SENSE a shift in the mood between Lyla and Max when she came back from the bathroom, but she tried to ignore it. She eyed Max through her long lashes and lifted her glass. God, the man was hot; set-your-panties-on-fire hot. His wavy, dark-blond hair hung slightly too long, but called out for Janie to run her fingers through it. His eyes were the most incredible shade of green, reminding her of fresh-cut grass in spring. But his body, his body could—and did—make grown women swoon, Janie included.

She trained her stare on his broad chest—so much thick muscle and sinew, stretched under his thin, black, cotton T-shirt. She watched intently as he turned around to grab a bottle from the shelf behind him, his jeans low on his lean hips, sculpting his perfect ass in a way that made Janie jealous of the piece of denim. In fact, his hard, well-defined form had been the topic of several Thursday-night conversations. Oftentimes, Max was a participant in those talks, too.

"What do you want me to tell you?" He would say with an arched brow, "I want to stay in shape...gotta look good for the ladies."

"Can you get any cockier?" Janie had asked one night, to which Max had chuckled in his manly way,

"Speaking of cock..." Everyone had started laughing uncontrollably. That was the night that Janie had fallen totally and completely in lust with Max.

Yep, she wanted that man. He was always friendly, and even flirty, but she never took it seriously. The man had women throwing themselves at him; she witnessed it every Thursday night. Sure, Lyla said that Max treated Janie differently than he did other women, but she couldn't see it. She knew she wasn't in his league. Hell, they didn't even play the same sport. She was happy just being friends with Max. Okay, maybe not _happy_ ...but she would rather be friends than nothing at all.

As soon as Lyla had spoken the words "sex with friends," Janie's eyes had found Max. A shiver ran up her spine when his emerald eyes bore into hers. She wanted to touch him—it felt almost painful not to—but she'd resisted the urge by lifting her glass to her lips while keeping her eyes fixed on his. This was Max, her _friend_. Of course she could touch him; she had touched him hundreds of times before, but with these thoughts running rampant through her mind, she feared that if she so much as brushed the skin on his hand right now, she would burn to ashes.

Sex with friends—God, she _needed_ to get laid. Or to quote Lyla, she needed "a good fuck."

Janie subtly brought her cool hands up to her warm cheeks, hoping no one could see the flush that was forming from her thoughts. The desire to feel needed and loved kept leading her to the wrong guys, but she kept trying to find her own "Happily Ever After" anyway. As unrealistic as she knew it may be, she couldn't let go of her childhood fantasies, the ones where she dreamed that someday, she would find someone who would make her feel whole. Complete. Cherished. Loved. What she actually found, though, ran the gamut between the boring and bland to the douchey, cheating assholes.

Plus, her sex life always bordered on "why bother?" She'd had enough men tell her that she was frigid and cold in bed to realize they were probably right. She could accept boring, unfulfilling sex, if only it came with an honest, loving man.

She watched Max pour a beer with his perfectly sculpted forearms and slide it to the customer in front of him. What she would do for Max...God, what _wouldn't_ she do for Max?

Her mouth suddenly dry, she picked up her glass and let the sweet liquid hit her lips.

"So, Max...what time do you get off tonight?" Lyla asked as Janie choked on her drink.

With all eyes on her—and her cheeks growing warm with embarrassment, or lust—she shrugged. "What? You asked what time he gets off...that's funny! Come on, Ly...that's funny." Lyla smirked.

"I don't know when, or _if_ , he will be 'getting off' tonight, but he gets off _work_ right now," Danny said, with a wink to Janie and a squeeze to Max's shoulder. Max gave Danny a questioning, are-you-sure look, and Danny nodded.

"Well, then, I guess I'm done for the night," Max said, his gaze landing on Janie.

Janie looked at Lyla, eyes big as saucers, "Um..."

"I'm kind of exhausted," Lyla said, stretching, "I think I'm gonna head out. I need to be up early tomorrow. Max, would you mind taking Janie home? You know where she lives, right?" Janie's jaw dropped, Lyla knew the answer to that question before she asked it; Max had been to Janie's apartment several times for Sunday dinner.

Max nodded, "My pleasure."

A jolt of electricity surged through his body as he made his way out from behind the bar.

Janie's body was still, but her heart was racing.

Lyla tapped her on the shoulder, "Janie?"

"Ly, I'll come with you, no worries."

Max weaved his arm around Janie's waist though, pulling her away from Lyla, "Sex with friends, Janie," he whispered into her ear, a question in his voice.

Exhaling what felt like all of the air in her body, she looked into the greenest eyes she had ever seen. "Max...I don't know...I mean—"

"Let me take you home tonight, Janie. I've been thinking about you for months. Don't tell me it's one-sided." His confident grin told her that he knew the attraction went both ways.

Between the warmth of his breath and his woodsy, clean smell, Janie had goose bumps running down her arms. Her focus keened on Max while addressing Lyla.

"Ly, I'll...um..."

"Talk to me tomorrow." Lyla slung her purse over her shoulder, "Hey, Max, be a kind man and a good boy," she warned.

Something sexy quickly passed over Max's handsome face before he smiled his patented lazy grin. "I promise to be a kind man." He winked and led Janie out the door.

"By the way," he said in her ear, "the Jeep had a flat tire, so I had to drive my other car."

Excitement rushed through Janie's body at the impending ride...and she wasn't just thinking about Max's Ferrari.

SCANNING THE BAR, Lyla watched as people began to pair off and leave together. Once Janie and Max had left, she'd sat back down and ordered another drink. She glanced toward the corner table, where she had seen the guy she wanted desperately to take home herself earlier in the evening. She had spotted him at the bar on other nights but never talked to him. They had shared some pretty steamy looks, too, though he had never approached her. Normally she wouldn't play so coy, but there was something about him that kept her from making the first move. She could tell he'd be dangerous for her. Not menacing or scary, but something worse...

She tried to shake his shadowed face from her mind. Her body reacted every time she saw him, and now even when she just thought of him. _See? Dangerous._ She was never lacking in male companionship, as Danny so thoughtfully pointed out earlier that night, and she snorted to herself. Something about her mystery man was different; he was the kind of guy she would write about in her novels - tall, dark, brooding, and all alpha male. She didn't know how she knew this without ever speaking a single word to him—she just did. But his chair sat empty, so what did it matter?

She shrugged and took another sip of her drink, then snickered to herself as her thoughts slid back to Janie and Max. "All I had to do was light the match. Here's to the fire." Lyla raised her glass to toast her good deed and took a deep pull of the sweet concoction.

"Don't stand too close to the fire until you're ready to feel the burn." A gravelly voice whispered the words in her ear, from behind, and sent tingles down her spine.

"What?" The startled response that eked out of her mouth was almost unrecognizable.

A sexy chuckle escaped the throat of the man whose warmth was radiating into Lyla's skin. She attempted to turn around, curious to see the face that was attached to that voice, but a large hand at the base of her neck stayed her movement. As his thumb gently stroked her neck a whisker-roughened cheek murmured in her ear, "No reason to turn around, sweetheart. You know who I am. Everything else you need to know you can feel pulsing through your body right now. Enjoy your drink. I'll see you soon."

The cool air seeped into her body as the warmth of his hand left her skin. By the time Lyla worked up the courage to turn around, all she got was a glimpse of a firm ass covered in perfectly worn jeans, a tight, white T-shirt that hugged a broad back, and inky-black hair that hung just below the neck of said T-shirt.

"What the fuck just happened? Who the hell was that?" Lyla gasped as Ashley, the bartender who'd stepped in for Max, just smiled. "Ashley, Goddamn it! Seriously, did you see him?"

Ashley looked at her with a grin, "That's Max's friend. You've probably seen him here before." She put a glass of ice water in front of Lyla, gestured to her cheeks, and gave a devilish smile, "You look like you could use this."

"SO, YOUR PLACE or mine?" Janie asked nervously as they left the parking lot. The butterflies in her stomach were starting a revolution as she took in the sexy profile of the man sitting to her left, with one hand on the wheel and the other on her thigh. Was she really doing this? Not to mention, doing it with Max DeLucca?

Removing his hand from her leg, Max placed both hands on the steering wheel of his black Ferrari Spider. Janie held in the whimper that threatened to escape from the loss of his touch.

Max pulled over to the side of the road, and she felt the butterflies once again trying to take flight. Why was he stopping? Had he changed his mind?

"Janie," he said, his voice strong but calm. "Janie, look at me. I need to see your eyes." She looked into his grassy-green orbs. Callused fingers stroked her jaw, sending shivers through her body, "I won't hurt you. Your body is safe with me. Do you understand?"

She wasn't sure she did, but she nodded silently.

The innocent, doe-eyed look on her face brought out his every possessive instinct. "Words, Janie, I need words," Max demanded.

"I think I understand, Max." She couldn't help the breathless tone in her voice, "But what is this about?"

He inhaled, holding the air in his lungs for an extra second before letting it go, his eyes smoldering while his body still held the relaxed pose that had become so familiar to her. She could hear her own heart beating, and she could also hear it stop when the next statement left Max's lips.

"I intend to fuck you tonight, Janie. I intend to fuck you _very_ well. I am going to make you come in every way imaginable; with my fingers, my tongue, and my cock. I am going to do things to you that you and Lyla have only _teased_ about at Danny's, things that you have _fantasized_ about, and things that have _never_ even crossed your mind. You will have a say in whether or not we stop, but Janie, you will not have a say on whether it is your place or mine. Got it?"

She stared at Max and her mouth formed an O. She was thoroughly and truly speechless. So she nodded again.

"Words, Janie. I need words."

"Okay." Her heartbeat started speeding up again, as Max's car did the same.

MAX GRINNED AS he drove them toward her place. How is it possible that he finally had Janie Silver in his car? _Fuck._

One word...Lyla. He was going to have to send her those raspberry truffles that she liked so much.

Keeping both hands on the wheel proved to be more difficult than he ever imagined. Just a few more minutes and he would finally have Janie, his Janie, alone in her house, on her bed.

_His house or hers?_ Max laughed to himself. What a ridiculous question. Didn't she realize the answer had to be the place that was the closest to wherever they were? He was barely hanging on as it was. He had to be practically superhuman to have restrained himself from taking her in his car when they had pulled over for that quick chat. He'd wanted to run his hands through her long hair, practically since the first Thursday night that she and Lyla had walked into Danny's on Main. He'd been dying to know if her brown-and-copper cascades would feel as soft as they looked, wrapped around his fingers.

For months he had been waiting for the right time. Watching her with the last loser had caused an unfamiliar pang of possessiveness to grip his gut and squeeze it like a vice. Hearing about the ten years of douche bags prior was enough to make him insane. Every workout with the heavy bag was him beating the shit out of all the faceless men who had hurt Janie in the past. Every MMA session had his partners feeling the pain that he wanted to inflict on the cheating sons of bitches that made Janie think she was unworthy of being worshipped. He got through each punishing run telling himself that one day he would be the man to teach her what the John Mayer song, "Your Body is a Wonderland" really meant. She was the one woman who made him wish he could have a relationship. If he still possessed his heart, he would give it to her. That's why he had stayed away from her. Until tonight.

Tonight he finally lost his power to control the lust he felt toward her, and now he had her. His woman... _No_ , he thought, _just her body. That's all I want._ _No emotions, no entanglements_ ...

He ran his hand slowly up Janie's jean-clad thigh and breathed in deep.

"Fuck," he sighed out loud. He was in trouble.

LYLA NURSED THE last of her drink and tried to push the mystery man with his whisky-laced voice and his leathery, cedar scent out of her mind, when Danny came back to the bar to regale her with disgusting stories of bathroom horror. Laughing hysterically, she dipped her head, covered her eyes, and begged him to stop the torture.

"Ew! Stop! You're gonna make me pee myself," she squealed, "Then your poor staff is going to have another mess to deal with. Plus, I would never be able to show my face in here again!"

Danny's expression went from relaxed to tense in a blink. "Oh, honey, don't ever say that. You and Janie are like family now. Go ahead and pee on the floor! I won't care. In fact, after we're all done laughing at you, we'll bronze the spot!"

Lyla knew that Danny and his wife, Julie, had tried for years to have children, but to no avail. They treated their employees like family, and she and Janie, in the last few, short months, had become like surrogate daughters to the couple.

"Thanks, Danny. You know that means the world to me...especially since I don't really..." She didn't finish her sentence.

"Yeah, and you have A-D-D when it comes to men." He effectively changed the subject without any sense of how he got from point A to point B.

She lifted her eyebrows, ready with a sassy comeback, but it wouldn't come out of her mouth. He was right; Lyla could practically choose her sexual partner any night of the week. But sex is where she drew her line, she didn't do commitment, Hell, she didn't even do sleepovers. She let them use her body, and she used theirs right back. Two consenting adults—perfect.

"I don't need anyone but Janie...and you guys, of course." She smiled sheepishly. The truth was; the thought of getting close to any one man made her physically ill. The men she had trusted in her past had not just let her down but had nearly killed her. She was no longer a full person, just a bunch of broken pieces held together with glue and hope. She didn't want or need a man in her life. She could take care of herself. Lyla had her own money, so financial security would never be a problem for her, and she certainly didn't want some guy thinking she was going to support his ass. She needed a man, not a boy, anyway; someone who didn't need constant ego stroking, who knew how to handle her body.

God, what was she thinking? That sounded like relationship talk. Hence the reason why she always stuck to the one night stands, two nights if the sex was actually good, but no more.

Danny gave her his best fatherly smile-hug combo—at least that was what she thought it was, since she had never received one from her own father—and he whispered in her ear, "Ly, you are not an island, and you deserve so much love...so much."

She felt her throat tighten but refused to show any emotion. While she could, and would, help people deal with their own feelings, hers were off limits. So she took a deep breath and gave him one final squeeze before letting go.

Lyla's thoughts quickly shifted back to her best friend. It was always better to think about Janie than it was to give any headspace to her own life.

"She is such a good person. God, I hope I did the right thing."

"Who are you talking about?" Danny asked. "You mean, Janie?"

"Shit, was I thinking out loud again? I really need to stop doing that," she sputtered, her blue eyes, bright.

"Listen, Lyla," Danny said with what the group referred to as his 'serious face', "Max has been thinking, and talking, about Janie for what feels like forever. He is a good guy no matter what he—"

Lyla interrupted. "Danny, I'm sure he's a great guy, but what Janie _needs_ is a good fu—"

Danny placed his hand over Lyla's mouth, "Max is a good guy. Listen to what I am not saying. I see him as a son, so please don't make me say it more clearly than this." A bashful blush crept up Danny's neck, "He will give her whatever she needs tonight. Understand?"

She looked into Danny's pleading eyes, and with a smile as huge as the relief she was feeling, she stood up, hugged him, and said good night to the rest of the staff. They firmed up Sunday dinner plans, and she walked out to her car, parked in her special spot right by the front door.

LYLA SLID INTO her BMW, buckled up, and pressed the windows down to let the late-summer night breeze blow through her car. September nights in Pennsylvania were her favorite because one never knew if the weather would be hot and sticky or crisp and chilly. Like life, it was unpredictable, and she knew how to handle unpredictable.

She was selecting the playlist on her iPod when she heard the growling sound of what could only be a Harley roll up to the side of her car. _Hmm_ , she thought with a smirk, _the things I've done on a motorcycle_ ... The sound alone made her internal engine purr. She continued to scroll to her favorite playlist, when the back of her neck began to tingle.

She could feel _him_ —her body was actually reacting to a perfect stranger—and there was a slight tap on the roof of her car. Lyla looked up from her iPod and saw what may have been the most startling pair of blue eyes that had ever been created. Here she thought her own were pretty fabulous, but nope, not even close in comparison. She wanted to drown in the pools that stared back at her. She had never seen him up-close before—he was breathtaking. Lyla felt her chest burn from her shallow breaths as she took in the curve of his jaw and sculpted chin.

"See something you like?" He asked with a dimpled grin.

"Before you opened your mouth I did," Lyla answered in kind.

The next thing she knew, the passenger door opened. _Oh shit! I forgot to lock the doors_. "I'm such an idiot!"

"I wouldn't say you're an idiot, but you really should lock your doors. Any crazy man could just open them up and sit down next to you," he said with a wink.

"I really need to get this problem of thinking out loud under control," Lyla stated, purposely out loud that time.

"Or maybe you just need a man that wants to listen to your all thoughts." There was that killer smile again. _Dangerous._

His baby blues watched her with what appeared to be interest. Lyla snickered and then laughed to the point of tears.

He looked at her with lust and confusion. "What?" he asked in that voice that would forever haunt her dreams.

"Does that line actually work for you?" Lyla said, wiping her eyes with the palm of her hand, trying in vain to pull herself back together.

"Actually, I haven't had to _use_ that line before," he said smoothly, "Because I don't run into many beautiful, sexy, desirable women who spend the better part of their evening talking to themselves." He chuckled a throaty laugh, and once again Lyla felt goose bumps rise on her skin _. Oh Lord, the dimples, the smile, the laugh –– what the hell is wrong with me?_

Trying to hide her reaction to him, and of course, her latest quirky bullshit, Lyla squared off her shoulders, lifted her head, and looked straight at the sensuous man sitting, uninvited, in her car. _How the hell did that happen again?_

"So..." Lyla waited for him to offer his name, but he didn't. He just looked back at her with a piercing stare, his soulful eyes framed with black lashes so intense she swore he could see right through her.

"So," he repeated, "I know that you come here on Thursday nights—"

"Stalker much?"

"Lyla." Her name was honey dripping from his lips. "Knowing your name and that fact that you come to Danny's on Thursdays doesn't make me a stalker."

Lyla's insides melted and her panties actually dampened, just from hearing her name slide out of his mouth. _I'm so screwed._ "Oh my God..."

"What's wrong?" He smiled.

"Shit!" Realizing she, again, spoke her thoughts out loud, she moved to slam her fist into her thigh. Just as her expletive filled the tight space of the car, his left hand sliced out and grabbed her fist, holding it in his big palm. Their skin connected, and just like in the bar, electricity surged through her body. But here, now, they were sitting face-to-face, his eyes to hers.

She felt her skin bloom, every hair rising from her flesh, as he reached out and placed his right hand on the side of her face. Before Lyla knew it, he pulled her to him. She tried to resist, but his lips were soft and warm as they caressed hers. The kiss that started out slowly, maybe even a little chaste, turned inferno as soon has his cedar smell hit Lyla's senses. Her throaty moan was all the acceptance he needed.

"Nice," he muttered as he pulled her tighter. He tried to consume her with his kiss, and she went willingly. Her hands started to travel down his hard, muscled chest, over his pecs, and spread across his abdomen. He breathed in deep and slowly pulled away, keeping his hand wrapped around her fist. Lyla opened her eyes, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened, when she heard the click of the door being opened. The overhead light in the car came on.

He was getting out of her car...he was leaving?

"What are you doing?" Lyla practically shrieked as she leaned over to look at him through the passenger window.

"Not you. Not tonight," he answered, a strength in his voice that Lyla couldn't imagine any man able to possess after _that_ kiss.

She was embarrassed, angry, and aroused beyond belief. "You know what? I didn't even invite you into my car. I don't even know you! Why did you even bother, asshole? Next time you see me, just...just...walk the other way," she dismissed him. "Jesus Christ."

Trying to gather her determination, she straightened herself behind the steering wheel and inhaled. Scrubbing her hands over her forehead, she closed her eyes for a quick second, forcing herself to keep it together.

"What the hell is wrong with me? I didn't even know his fucking name, and here I am with my tongue down his throat? He could have fucking killed me, and I would have deserved it...shit!" She slammed her palms into the steering wheel again.

The tears started to well up as the fragrance of cedar and leather tickled her nose again. She opened her eyes and was startled to find him leaning in through the open driver's side window.

"Now what do you fucking want?" She spat, "Go the hell away!"

"Lyla..."

"No, I've had enough for the night...just go," she said, trying to rein in her emotions. She had about sixty seconds before her wall would crumble, and she knew she had to get out of there. She did not cry—ever—and definitely not in front of a gorgeous man with dimples and a sexy smile, whose kiss could make her forget things she wished she had never learned.

"Lyla." His was voice firm, demanding her attention. She reluctantly raised her eyes and looked at him. His electric gaze sparked as blunt words left his full lips. "My name is Gage. I see you come here each Thursday with your friend, and to be honest, I've wanted you for weeks. I've seen the way you laugh, the way you smile. I've seen the way you throw sass when someone gives you a hard time." She watched as the muscles in his jaw clenched and released. She could feel his gaze penetrating her body. "If you think...Christ...if you think I'm gonna kiss you"— his eyes raked over her—"and then fuck you in a parking lot after the fantasies that have been living in my mind, then yes, sweetheart, you have lost your fucking mind."

Lyla looked away, her cheeks warm, her panties damp.

"Lyla, look at me, sweetheart. I've seen the men you take home," he went on, "You have the F-and-R pattern down to a science."

Lyla jerked her eyes back to stare him down. "F and R?"

Ignoring her question, Gage continued his monologue, "I practically invented that routine, and I refuse to go there with you. You deserve everything good and sensual. Don't think I haven't noticed that no matter how much 'fun' you're having, the sparkle never quite hits your eyes. You deserve a man who is going to worship you—body and soul. I am going to be that man." He paused a beat, "But it is _not_ going to be tonight. It can't be."

Her eyes didn't leave his. "So, until we are both ready, that kiss is as far as we can go," he explained. "Please, drive safely... and I will see you when I see you." He leaned into the car, gave her a slow kiss on the lips, slipping his tongue into her mouth and gently caressing her tongue with his, and then he was gone.

When she opened her eyes he—Gage—was nowhere. _Was he ever here?_ Lyla's lips tingled, and she could still smell a trace of his cologne, feel his hands on her cheek. She could taste man and...salt? She looked into her rearview mirror, and she saw what she feared: a stream of tears had trailed down her cheeks and onto her lips.

Exhaling, she wiped away the tears, "Worship my soul?" She spoke aloud, "Bullshit. My body on the other hand...that I can handle." She wiped her face again and headed for home.

Alone.

***

A Details Kind of Girl

"OBVIOUSLY, YOU KNOW where everything—" Janie wasn't able to finish her sentence before being pulled into the hard wall that was Max's body. He slanted his head and pressed his lips to hers while he ran his hands through her hair. _Soft, like silk_ , he thought to himself. The kiss started off soft, but quickly gained speed and intensity. There was no room, no house, no world—just Max and Janie, needing each other like oxygen.

His hands cupped her face, and he breathed in deeply. She smelled of mint gum, Cosmos, and just...Janie. It was a scent he could never quite figure out, but whenever she was around that scent was too, and he loved it. Max bit her bottom lip, and just as quickly, sucked it lightly to remove any sting he may have caused. She didn't seem to mind, moaning with appreciation. His cock was getting harder by the second.

For the first time in her life, Janie knew what it meant to have her knees go weak. If not for the tall, strong, and clearly capable man standing in front of her, she would be a melted puddle on her living room floor. She heard a moan and immediately broke the kiss, turning away from Max when she realized that the sound had come from her. Her heart was pounding, and all she could hear was the blood flowing through her ears. If she could disappear, or maybe melt into that puddle now, she would be forever grateful. Never had she moaned like that...not for real! Of course, she had faked it—many, many times before—but isn't that what a woman is supposed to do to make a guy feel better about his performance? She shivered as two thick, warm arms folded around her torso.

Max didn't try to turn her around. He knew she needed a second to pull herself together, but for the life of him he couldn't figure out why. All they did was kiss.

"Babe, what's going on in that sexy little head of yours?"

Janie lifted her shoulder, silent for a second. In a husky breath she said, "I've never done that before." As she slowly turned to face him, it wasn't embarrassment he saw glowing in her eyes.

Confused, Max said, "Kissed a man?"

Janie threw her head back, a throaty laugh escaping the sexy mouth that had been making Max's dick hard for months.

"Max, that's ridiculous," she said through giggles, "My God, I've been having sex since I was seventeen! Of course, I've kissed guys before."

Max felt his gut tighten at the thought of Janie having sex with other men. _Don't go there, man. She's your friend._ _It's all about making each other feel good...for one night_. He repeated his mantra in his head as he forced himself to relax. "Then what is it that you haven't done before, Janie?" he murmured, running his fingers through strands of her hair.

A slight shiver ran up her spine; it happened every time he said her name. It'd been happening for months, but after that kiss... _wow_ ...

"Well, Max," she mocked sarcastically, "if you must know—and this is really embarrassing so please don't tell the other guys at the bar...seriously, even Lyla doesn't know this..."

His body tensed. What the hell could she possibly be about to tell him that even Lyla didn't know? The two women shared everything; they'd been friends since freshman year of college. "Janie, it's okay. You can trust me with anything," he promised.

"Well, no man has ever made me...I've never actually... _moaned_ before...out loud...for real...without faking it." Janie stood still; fingers knotted together, and eyes glued to the carpet, waiting for him to say something, anything. She expected he would probably laugh at her or make fun—that's what they did with each other, the kind of friendship they had. But he just stood there quietly. It felt like minutes, but it was probably only seconds before Janie's eyes finally lifted to meet Max's. The fire burning there was intense. Janie took a step back, more out of self-preservation than fear.

"Max, are you, um, okay?" she asked hesitantly.

"Janie, come here. Now." The low rumbling in Max's voice oozed sex, and without conscious thought, her legs carried her toward him. The look he gave her said she had not come close enough, so she took another step. Losing patience, Max clasped both hands around her waist and pulled her tightly against his body. Practically sealed together, he brought his lips to hers. He claimed her mouth ravenously and rubbed his hands up her back. Janie accepted his kisses, returning them as if her life depended on it. She moaned again, and Max stopped the kiss. Janie's eyes snapped open.

"Janie, I love to hear the sounds you make. Knowing I'm the only man to ever get the real thing...God, you have no idea what that does to me." He took her small, soft hand and placed it against the front of his jeans. The evidence of his arousal caused another moan to leave her mouth as she bit her lip, "And you can't begin to imagine what I'm gonna do to the rest of your body. But for now, open up...I want in that mouth of yours."

Before she could respond, he tilted his head and pulled her even closer. His tongue entered her mouth, surging electricity straight through her. He could feel the tension ease from her shoulders as she became liquid under his touch. His hands slid from her back to her ass, kneading the firm skin under her jeans. They continued to travel the map of her body, stopping from time to time to touch and stroke her skin, leaving small patches of fire in their wake. His lips left her warm mouth, and she whimpered at the loss of his probing tongue.

"Don't worry, babe. I'm not going anywhere," he promised her as he slowly licked the lobe of her ear.

Janie felt her panties getting wetter, yet another thing the other men she slept with were never able to accomplish without her help. Maybe Lyla had been right all these years—she had been missing out. Who needs love when you can have this? The small voice in her head whispered: _You do Janie...you do_. She shook it off as Max took an audible breath.

_I've barely touched her and I feel like I could come_ , Max thought. _Deep breaths, DeLucca._ _Fuck, but when I breathe in deep all I smell is her. She smells like...Christ, what is it? It's like coconuts and limes._ "God, Janie, you always smell so fucking good. What is that?"

Janie smiled and mindlessly answered. "A lotion Lyla and I found years ago." She could barely think coherent thoughts, let alone form full sentences. "Lyla knows I love it, so she makes sure that I never run out. I don't even know where it's sold...Oh God, Max, please keep doing that," she pleaded as he licked and nibbled her neck.

"Bedroom, babe. Now."

Janie giggled at Max's strained tone and pleading look. Weaving her fingers through his, she led him down the hall into her bedroom.

Max turned on the light and looked at Janie.

"Max, why the lights?" Janie asked self-consciously.

"Because, _Janie_ ," he said using the same tone she had just used, "I've been waiting for months to finally have you alone. Now, I have you, in a room where there's a bed...Fuck! I want to see every single inch of your beautiful body while I touch it, lick it, suck it, and fuck it...okay?"

Once again speechless, she nodded her head with what she was sure was a dumbfounded expression on her face.

"Words, Janie," he said with a smirk.

"Okay, Max," Janie replied, her voice low and husky.

He lifted her tank top over her head and stared at her creamy skin and lace-covered breasts. His cock lengthened more as it pressed against the zipper of his jeans. He continued kissing and licking his way down her neck as he unhooked her bra, watching as she shrugged the straps off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. Her dusky-pink nipples were pointed and drawn tight as his tongue started to lave one nub, and his thumb and forefinger started to rub the other.

Again Janie moaned, and this time she felt a small tremor zing through her body.

Max smiled to himself. She was so responsive. _How could any man not clue in to this treasure?_ As he sucked harder, he bit down gently to gage her response, and was thrilled when she took a sharp breath, and followed it with a slow and steady groan.

Janie's panties were already saturated, and he just kept making her hotter. She was going to die of embarrassment when he touched her there, but she would die of frustration if he didn't. Talk about being stuck between a rock and a hard Max. She laughed to herself.

"Something funny, babe?" Max questioned from his place at her breast, a hint of humor in his own eyes.

"No, I just can't believe this is happening and..." Her voice trailed off.

"Tell me what you were about to say, babe. I can't make you feel good if you don't tell me what's working and what's not."

Janie took a deep breath. She was a twenty-eight-year-old woman, she could have this discussion.

"That's just it, Max. Everything you're doing is...working...and working very well." She blushed, and Max whispered a low curse, "I have never been so turned on in my life. Never. I'm practically dripping, and I'm trying to figure out if I would be more tortured if you felt how wet I am from just some simple kissing and touching or if you were to get up and leave right now." Her eyes avoided his face. She couldn't stand to see what it might show, but the silence was deafening.

Max couldn't believe what he had just heard. This woman, the woman who was the star in every one of his shower sessions for the past several months, the woman who made him crazy with need and desire, was standing in front of him, half dressed, declaring her embarrassment over being turned on by him?

"Okay, Janie, listen up because this is the last heart-to-heart we're going to have tonight." He grabbed her hand and placed it on top of his thick erection, " _This_ is what you do to me. This is what happens to me every time you walk into a fucking room." Keeping her willing hand captive on his cock, he continued, "This is what happens when I think about you. This is what happens when you rub against me by mistake at Sunday dinner. You're telling me that your pussy is wet because of me..." He let out a strangled lungful of air. "Honey, that's the sweetest fucking thing you could have ever said to me."

Before the words even left his mouth he reached for her, and then he was kissing her again. Janie lifted her hands to his chest and pulled back. She had to see if the passion from his kiss would be evident on the face that was always so relaxed. She saw a flicker of emotion just before he banked it away for his ever-present easygoing façade.

Janie saw the snap of emotion but was unsure what it was. It didn't matter—he was devouring her with his eyes, his shirt gathering his hot, salty sweat.

"I need this off of you, Max. I need to finally feel your skin." Janie was shaking with need. In fact, she had never felt this "needy" in her life. Max smiled and peeled off his shirt.

"Oh God," Janie whimpered as she looked at the beautiful man standing before her. She had expected nice—after all, the guy spent half his free time working out—but what she saw was breathtaking. Without thinking, Janie began to touch and explore his smooth skin. No tattoos, no piercings, no embellishments of any kind. Just beautiful, sun-kissed skin with a smattering of dark-blond hair.

Janie moved her hands over Max's hard chest only to stop when her thumbs stroked his nipples, and a husky shudder released from deep within his body. She leaned forward and began to lick the flat disks when a moan surrounded her again. This time the sultry sound was coming from Max. She could feel the vibration in his chest, and she relished the thought that she was the one making this big, beautiful man moan.

Max felt like he was spinning out of control. _What is wrong with me_? He thought _, these are just kisses._ He needed to keep it together. Moving her slowly back toward the bed and down onto the soft mattress, he hovered over her, his waist nestled between her exquisite thighs, their warmth griping and tugging him close. Janie looked up at him with lust-filled eyes and silent pleas as he moved his chest back farther from her sinfully seductive mouth and continued his perusal of her perfect body. He mentally repeated his mantra. She needed this...this was just sex and nothing more. He would make her feel good and get her out of his system...no more...never more.

"More, Max. I need more," Janie panted as he rubbed between her thighs. Startled and confused by what seemed to be her ability to read his thoughts, Max snapped back to the present and stripped off her jeans. True to her word, her panties—if you could call the barely-there thong such a thing—were drenched. He felt his cock twitch.

"Mmm, Janie...I can smell how turned on you are. My leaving right now would never be an option; the only thing I'm worried about is getting these off you." He peeled off her thong and immediately positioned his fingers to stroke her swollen clit. Quickly, she started to quiver. "So responsive." He crept down her torso. "Lay back, babe," he said, pressing his open hand gently against her chest, guiding her to the pillow. _So beautiful,_ he thought as he began to settle his shoulders between her legs.

Janie bolted up on her elbows, a panicked look etched on her face, "Max! What are you doing?"

Max looked at Janie's perfectly waxed mound and then up to her face. His eyes were full of humor, "Really, sweetness, you have to ask? What the hell kinds of assholes were you dating?"

Janie's eyes filled with shame as she said quietly, "Ones that made me shower first."

Max cringed. He wanted to punch someone, preferably all of the douche bags that had dated Janie since she turned seventeen, "Janie, you lie back and let me love on you. I am going to lick you, eat you, and fuck you with my tongue." His gaze was molten as the words dripped out of his mouth like syrup, and Janie was rendered speechless once more.

Slightly self-conscious, Janie lay back on her bed as Max settled his magnificent body between her legs. Her room was bright with light, so she put her arm over her eyes. She didn't need her sense of sight to know he had started to rub her already-sensitive clit. Then she felt his thick finger breech her entrance.

"Oh, Max," she groaned as Max unleashed his tongue. Truly, that's what he did; he unleashed what she would refer to in the future as "The Beast." He licked her from slit to clit and back, then slid two fingers into her pussy, directly to her sweet spot. Her head began to spin, and her skin began to tingle.

"Breathe, babe," Max reminded her before going back to sucking on her clit like it was ambrosia.

Janie felt her body buzz as he continued stroking the sensitive area with his fingers and sucked on the hard pearl between her folds, occasionally nipping it and then licking some more. He felt her tighten around his fingers as the moans escaped her mouth. Stars exploded through her vision, her body shook, her mind went blank, and for a brief second she wondered if maybe she blacked out. Gradually, she started to float down, small tremors still zinging through her body, when Max looked up at her with a self-satisfied gaze and wolfish grin. Her arousal still glistened from his lush lips, and he used his thumb to wipe it away, slipping the digit into his mouth to relish her flavor.

"Has anyone ever told you that you taste like peaches and honey?"

Did he expect her to answer that outrageous question? She shook her head and laughed.

"Max, thank you so much for that...it was amazing..."

At first he was confused, and then understanding hit him like a two-by-four. "Babe, we're just getting started. You have more than one orgasm in that sweet body of yours, and I want them all." With that, he began his sensual assault once again. However, this time, Janie had an offensive of her own.

As Max licked his way up her belly, Janie's nimble fingers unbuttoned his jeans. He bit one of Janie's hard nipples, and she slid her hand into his boxers to feel the smooth steel that had been pressed against her earlier in the evening. Max's breath hitched, and in that brief second, she took control.

Janie smiled up at the golden-skinned man. "My turn," she said in her sexiest voice. She had his jeans unzipped and more than halfway down his legs before Max knew what had hit him. She used that moment to slide out from under him and rise up on her knees to rid him of his jeans and boxers.

"Babe, what are you doing?" He asked.

In a mocking tone Janie replied, "Really, Max, you have to ask? What kind of bitches have you been dating?"

"Touché," was his only response.

"Honestly," Janie said in a somber voice, "giving has never been my problem. It's on the receiving end where I draw the short straw." Janie, straddling the beautiful Adonis sprawled out on her bed, started to leave a trail of kisses, like bread crumbs, from Max's sexy, curved lips, down his throat, across his stunning expanse of a chest, over each nipple, and along his belly, until she got to his hard, thick cock.

"Beautiful," she murmured as she began to lick the crown and suck on the head.

"Jane..." Her name came out like a prayer; as Janie began to suck and lick her way down, she used her hand to rub his balls and stroke the root of his shaft.

He groaned, and his hands found her hair, moving away the strands that hung around her face like a curtain. He needed to see her blue eyes as she took him all the way into her mouth. He felt his orgasm start to build as he watched himself slide in and out of her pink lips and hit the back of her throat as she swallowed him.

His body quaked, and he started to shake, "Babe, you gotta stop...I'm gonna come. Janie... please..." Max wasn't sure if he was begging for her to stop or keep going, but she made that decision for him as she continued to suck and stroke his dick. He couldn't hold back another second and exploded in her mouth as she swallowed it down. Every. Single. Drop.

God, did she know how hot she was?

Janie was so turned on by this man that giving him a blowjob had her rubbing her thighs together. She needed to find her own release again.

Sensing her desire, even though he was still coming down from his orgasm-induced haze, he reached over and pulled her up onto his chest, his hand finding and stroking her sensitive clit. She came undone immediately. And when she was through, both of their bodies thoroughly sated and exhausted, they fell asleep entwined in each other's arms.

JANIE SLOWLY OPENED her eyes as the realization of his presence set in. She couldn't contain the smile that spread across her lips. She was lying on her side, and Max's hand lazily rubbed up her hip and sunk into the valley of her slim waist and back to her hip again. Spooning behind her, his hardened length was nestled between the soft globes of her ass as he continued to stroke her torso. His hand inched closer to her core as his lips grazed her shoulder.

"You're so beautiful, Janie," he murmured, "I've been waiting for so long..."

Her body fluttered, and her pulse skipped, "Max, you make me feel..." She didn't know how to finish the sentence, though, because the sentence was already complete. He made her feel... _period_. She had never felt anything like it before. He had awoken her from a state of complete numbness she hadn't realized she'd been stuck in, and now, every nerve was exposed, every emotion, raw. And while she knew she should probably feel scared, she just felt alive.

"Janie," he said; his voice hoarse, "I want you."

She looked over her shoulder as the mattress shifted with his movement, and she watched as he grabbed his discarded jeans from the floor and pulled out a condom. He tore open the wrapper with his teeth and slid the latex over his hard shaft. Lust consumed her body like wildfire as she turned onto her back and watched Max's face mirror her desire.

"Open for me, Janie." His words were laced with desperation while he moved between her legs. Janie nodded and wrapped her legs around Max's muscular torso, urging him on as he placed his cock at her soft, warm entrance. He took a deep breath and thrust into her, fast and hard, like her need. They moaned in unison as he gave her a quick second to get used to having him inside her. "Oh, fuck, Janie...you feel...ah..." Max tried to keep himself still for her sake.

But Janie reached up with both hands and grabbed Max's hair, yanking his face to be eye-level with hers. "Do you need an invitation? Fuck me, Max, please!"

With all of his good intentions out the window, Max took control of Janie's body the way he had been dreaming of for months. He sank his cock, balls-deep into her pussy, and she panted and writhed. Her nails dug half moons into his back as she met him thrust for thrust. He pulsed in and out of her, raining kisses on her neck, her breasts, and her lips. He had never tasted a sweeter woman. He loved the sounds she made every time he pushed deep into her body and each time he touched her clit.

Janie held on, her legs wrapped tight around his waist. She trailed her lips along his shoulders and kissed him hard on the mouth. She may have even bitten him, but she wasn't sure. She couldn't think straight, every time he stroked her clit all she wanted to do was purr like a cat. Her body tightened on the brink of another climax, and she shattered like glass when he pinched her clit and then pushed in deeper.

Max continued to drive into her, as her body tightened around his cock. He had found a spot between her neck and her shoulder that made her shudder, and he began to nibble and kiss her there.

"Max, I don't know if I can come again...that was huge," Janie whispered, using the little energy she had left.

"Babe, you have no idea what I can make your body do," Max said with a mischievous smile. Just hold on." He gently pulled his cock from her, still-pulsating, sex, and slowly lowered his body down her bed, kissing her flesh inch by inch until his face was once again at her entrance. She gasped as she felt The Beast lap over her sensitive clit and plunge deep inside her.

"Oh my God!" Janie whimpered in pleasure. "Ahh...that feels so....ahh!" Max ate at her and licked and sucked, and once again, her body started to clench and shake, "Holy shit, Max, I'm gonna...Max...I'm..."

Max moaned his approval as he continued to suck at her hot, drenched cunt. "Give it to me, Janie. I want it." He hissed as she lifted her hips and came apart in his mouth.

Before her body could come down from its happy place, though, his erection was firmly plunged back inside her. He whispered sexy promises in her ear while she moaned and undulated against him. Max groaned at the warm acceptance of Janie's body. Their mating was primal, ravenous, and needy. He was ready to explode.

"Oh, Max," Janie pleaded. "I'm gonna come again...please come with me!"

Max stilled for a split second. Did she read his mind? The thought was so brief and her body felt so good. She felt like a vice as she milked an intense orgasm that started in the base of his spine and ruptured out of his body. Everything he ever knew about sex and women had just been blown to pieces by the petite beauty, panting in the bed next to him. _I want more_ , he thought to himself when he went to the bathroom to dispose of the condom _. I need more._ He climbed back into her bed, spooning her. _I'm so screwed,_ his exhausted mind screamed. But he pulled her lush, relaxed body close to his chest anyway, and breathed in the sweet smell of her hair, kissed her shoulder, and welcomed sleep.

WHEN THE MORNING came, there was none of the awkwardness that Janie had feared. They awoke together and stretched. With her head on his chest, she let her fingers walk the hard plane of Max's body. Thoughts of the previous night sent heat through her core. As horny as touching him was making her, Janie made herself pull away and got out of bed.

Max rubbed his large hands over his day's worth of stubble and then spoke in a no-nonsense tone. "Janie, get your sweet ass over here. I want your mouth." Turned on beyond belief, Janie continued to back away, but this time she was laughing.

"What the hell is so funny?" he asked without a hint of anger in his voice. He tried to reach for her, but again she snuck away.

She refused to let him kiss her before she brushed her teeth, "No way, Max. I don't care what they do in the movies and romance novels. I don't want anyone's tongue in my mouth before I've brushed my teeth."

An unfamiliar, light feeling settled in his chest, "Whatever you want, babe." He got out of her bed and slipped on his well-worn jeans as Janie escaped to the bathroom to brush her teeth and throw on a tank top and shorts.

When she opened the bathroom door, though, he was no longer in the bedroom. She heard him in the kitchen, opening and closing cabinets. Curious, she headed in his direction. At that moment, her cell phone buzzed, indicating a text. It was from Lyla.

Hey J – how was ur nite? Want the deets...chat soon. At the gym. XO, L

Janie smiled. Lyla was her rock, her constant. How often do people find their lifelong best friend in their freshman-year college roommate? Janie sent back a quick text.

Nite is still going...and it is gr8! Call when ur done 4 deets. XO, J

Janie didn't make it into the kitchen yet, when the phone started ringing. "So predictable," she said out loud.

Max asked her where she kept her coffee before he noticed the phone to her ear.

"Hey, Ly, hold on a sec." She looked at him incredulously, "Are you kidding? Why would I have coffee here?"

Max looked at her like she had sprung another head. "Umm, because you love coffee and can't function without it? You drink at least two cups during Sunday dinner, and that's just one meal. Every time you come to Danny's for reasons other than to drink alcohol you drink coffee, too...so, Ms. Silver, I will ask again; where is your coffee?"

Janie looked at the sexy man, leaning casually against the counter in her kitchen and felt her heart skip a beat. _Would it be pathetic to fall in love with Max DeLucca after that little monologue_? She let out a wistful sigh and came back to the here and now when she heard Lyla giggle into the phone. Shit, she'd forgotten Lyla was on the line. "Um, okay, _Mr. DeLucca_ ," she said trying to stabilize her shaky voice. "I don't keep coffee here because no one makes better coffee than _Starbucks_ , which just so happens to be right next door—which is one of the main reasons I rented this apartment, I'll have you know."

Max leaned over and kissed the top of her head, inhaling in the sweet scent of her hair. "I'll go and get you a Grande. Lots of cream and two sweeteners, right?"

_How the hell does he know that_? She thought to herself, drawing up a curious brow.

"I pay attention, Janie. I'll take my time so you and Lyla can chat. Be back soon." Then, in a louder voice, he called into the phone, "Mornin', Ly," and walked out the door.

"Holy shit, Janie!" Lyla was screeching, now, huffing and puffing into the phone.

"Ly, turn off the treadmill before you fall on your head." Janie heard the machine power down. She looked at the counter where Max had left his cell phone and car keys. A tingle spread through her body, his things in her place felt....nice.

She heard her friend take a gulp of water and then the motor that was Lyla's mouth kicked into high gear, "I want to know every single detail, do you hear me? What happened? How did it start? Was he good? No, fuck that...was he great? What happens now? Jesus, Janie, can you please say something?"

Janie snorted, "Lyla, if you would shut your trap for two seconds, I would be able to answer your questions."

Lyla apologized for her over-exuberance and told Janie to continue. She gave Lyla the condensed version of the story, in order to squeeze in as much as possible before Max came back with the coffee. "I promise to give you the full down-and-dirty version later. I know you're a details kind of girl." Janie giggled, and Lyla gave a full-out belly laugh.

"So, what happens now?" Lyla asked.

"I don't know. I really like him, Ly. I know this is supposed to be...what did he call it? 'Sex with friends,' but he's funny and sweet and amazing in bed and...Max. You know...he's the kind of guy you fall for..."

At that moment, Janie turned around to see Max standing there holding the coffee. There was a look in his eyes, something fleeting but haunted, that she couldn't put a name to. Janie cleared her throat. "Hey, Ly, Max is back with my caffeine fix. Call you later. Love you."

Tossing the phone on the counter, she took the coffee from Max, drank a fortifying sip, and set the cup on the counter. Stepping in close, she wrapped her arms around the man who had spent the last twelve hours showing her what making love could feel like when it was done right. She lifted herself up on her tippy toes, sliding her arms from his waist to his neck, and pulled him down for a kiss. Max accepted her kisses, but there was something off. He seemed to have cooled down considerably since leaving her to get the coffee. In fact, he looked ready to bolt.

"Max, is everything okay?"

He looked her in the eyes but even that was different somehow, "Yeah, babe," he said, "I just have to get going. I'll see you for Sunday night dinner." Janie's smile must have faltered because, with what looked like a forced smile, he stiffly added, "But I'll talk to you before then, okay?"

Max swiped his phone and keys off the counter and briskly left Janie's place before she could even answer. Janie felt a chill spread through her veins, so cold even the hot coffee couldn't warm her up.

What the hell just happened?

"FUCK," MAX SHOUTED as he hit the gas on his most-prized possession, his Ferrari Spider. His baby still had that new-car smell, and every time he slid into the buttery leather seats he felt like he was a king perched on his throne. As long as he didn't allow himself to dwell on how he got the money to pay for the exclusive, expensive-as-hell car, he would enjoy every minute of every ride.

Max drove on autopilot. His body was taking him to Winston's Track, the one place where he would be able to process the crazy shit that went down in the last twelve hours—hell, in the last six months. "I feel the need for speed," he said aloud, quoting his all time favorite movie, Top Gun.

During the fifteen-minute drive to the track, he tried to squelch the loud droning in his mind. _Concentrate on the road, DeLucca. Just until you get there._ He was on the public roads and forced himself to focus—he wouldn't be a hazard to anyone around him. When he finally pulled into Winston's; he slid down the window and stared at the knowing face of one of his oldest friends.

"Gage." Max nodded his hello.

"DeLucca." Gage stared at Max and tilted his head. "Looks like you could use a few laps, my man."

Max shrugged. "You could say that."

"I just did." Gage laughed, leaning his head into the driver's side of the car, "And it's your lucky day. All the teams are done and packed up, and the recreation drivers aren't due back for about two hours. Have at it, my friend." Gage clapped Max on the shoulder and strode away.

Max thought about the man for a moment. Sebastian Gage had been his best friend for over twenty years. If not for his support and, sometimes fucked-up, brutal honesty, Max probably would have drowned himself in sorrow and liquor more times then he cared to count. Yep, Gage was a great friend.

As he drove through the gates and onto the quiet track, Max revved the engine. The Ferrari's rumble was music to his ears, the vibration a lull to his tense body. He gunned it, letting the car lead him around the track. As he drove, Max finally allowed himself to think about this morning, last night, Janie...and Chloe.

_Not again_ , he thought.

***

Get Un-Angry

"EVERYTHING MAKES MORE sense with Starbucks. Thanks for bringing it over, Ly." Janie took a sip of the lifeline in a cup and continued to analyze Thursday night and Friday morning with her best friend. It'd been twenty-four hours since Max had left, and she hadn't heard a peep from him.

"I just don't know what to say, Janie. It doesn't make sense." Lyla was just as confused as Janie; she poured a sweetener in her Caramel Macchiato and sat on the carpet in the main room of Janie's place. "It sounds like everything was perfect. He said all of the right things—and clearly _did_ all of the right things. I mean, honestly, you haven't stopped blushing since he left here yesterday!"

After pouring copious amounts of cream in her coffee, Janie sat Indian-style on the sofa. They had their best "therapy sessions" over Starbucks.

Janie blushed again, and Lyla laughed, "You don't understand, though. It's like a light went off. He went out for coffee as one man and came back as another. You don't think—" Janie stopped speaking.

"I don't think what, Jane? What do you think happened?" Lyla wanted so badly for her friend to find happiness.

Janie was more of a sister than a friend, and the girl deserved a _good_ man. Janie's love life had been a long running bad joke, and it needed to end. Lyla thought back to all the guys that Janie had dated over the years. There had been a lot of "boys," some "guys," but never once a real "man." Lyla couldn't think of one guy that Janie had dated that had been worthy of her,

Especially the last prick, Richard, or as Lyla had taken to calling him, Dick. To say that Dick and Lyla had a love/hate relationship would have been too kind. Lyla hated Dick all of the time, but she put up with his bullshit to make Janie happy. In the end, the asshole had not only cheated on Janie, but shattered what was left of her confidence. Lyla had gotten even though, as she tended to do whenever people hurt Janie.

"What are you grinning about? I'm in the middle of a situation here," Janie said, pulling Lyla back into the here and now.

"Sorry. I was just thinking about Dick, the person not the body part." Both women laughed, even though Janie's was weaker than usual. Laughter is what got them through life's hard times—Lyla would take what she could get.

"Why are you thinking about that asshole?" Janie asked.

"I was thinking about the _women_ I sent to his house the week after you caught him with Tracy..."

Lyla had sent two "working women" to Dick's house under the guise that a friend sent them over as an early birthday present. Since Dick's ego was bigger than it should have been, he gladly let the women in without further questions. They had him naked, in compromising positions, and posing for pictures within minutes of their arrival. _Seriously?_ _Could Dick be more of an idiot?_ What he didn't notice, was that while he was smirking and moaning, the "woman" who was giving him his blow job...was stroking her own penis. Dick had no idea until that "woman" ejaculated all over his stomach. The pictures were priceless. And Lyla made sure Dick knew exactly who was responsible when she signed her name at the bottom of the email—photos attached:

Guess you're not the only cock-sucking bastard in the room after all...xo, Lyla

Lyla giggled again, remembering.

"I heard Tracy dumped him about two weeks after I caught them together," Janie said. "She finally got what she thought was mine," Janie snorted, "All two minutes-worth of missionary, vanilla sex."

Lyla laughed and brought the conversation back to Max. "So, talk to me. What exactly happened?"

"Well, Max walked in when I was gushing to you about his wonderfulness. It could have freaked him out, I guess. After all, we had kind of gone into the night calling it 'sex with friends.'" Janie sighed, "I suck at this shit. You know casual sex and I have never seen eye to eye. Maybe I got wrapped up, and it just felt like more to me at the time. I thought it felt like it meant more to him. But it didn't. I don't know, Ly. I guess I'm just missing the bullshit detector."

Lyla took Janie's hands and looked directly into her defeated eyes as she said exactly what she knew her friend needed to hear. "Listen up, Jane. You do have pretty shitty taste in men. Let's face it—you suck at choosing because your parents sucked at parenting. But you have amazing taste in _best friends_." Lyla beamed a self-satisfied grin and continued, "I, on the other hand, have an amazing bullshit detector. I can smell it coming and going, and I can tell you that Max DeLucca is a good man. There is something going on inside his head, yes. I can see it in his eyes. Something is damaged in there, but his heart is still beating."

She raised her hand to stop Janie from interrupting her, "Zip it, I'm on a roll here. I am not telling you this so that you can fix him. That is where you tend to fuck things up. Let him do that himself, and then he can come to you. It's time for you to work on mending _you_. I don't want to see you hurt again." Lyla's eyes started to glaze, something so rare that Janie was aghast, so she sat silent, letting her friend continue.

"Your father abandoned you and your family. Your mother taught you to survive by throwing you into the fire. She was a drunk and a junkie, Jane. Your siblings were gone, and you were taking care of yourself and her. I know that you pity her, but I hate her for you. Parents are supposed to love and support their children"—tears gathered in Lyla's eyes—"not the other way around. It's time you start focusing on you. You are worth so much more than you think."

One tear fell down Lyla's cheek before she wiped them all away and stood up to walk into the bathroom.

As the emotional one of the pair, tears were already streaming down Janie's cheeks, unabashed. She called after her friend, trying to mask her surprise with humor, "Hey, Ly, was that a tear I saw?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Lyla called from the bathroom. Sounds of her blowing her nose emanated from down the hall.

"Crying is for pussies, Ly." Janie snorted through her tears when she heard a loud _thump_ , one that could only be Lyla's head hitting the wall as she quietly giggled in the small bathroom.

IT WAS THREE o'clock on Sunday afternoon, and Janie was helping Lyla with last-minute dinner preparations. Janie loved how their intimate Sunday dinners had turned into large family-style events, and she knew her friend felt the same way. Neither of them grew up with kitchens full of wonderful, home-cooked food, or family rooms filled with laughter and love. The smells and sounds of Sundays had become a sort of balm to each of their souls.

Being the "oops" child in an already struggling family of eight won Janie no admirers in the Silver household. Her four siblings had formed their bond before she ever came along. Janie couldn't blame them; their parents were selfish, alcoholic abusers, and they had bonded with each other to stay safe. By the time Janie was six, her father had finally up and left the family—which was good in some ways and bad in others—and her mother quickly turned child neglect into an art form. When her mother wasn't drunk or high, young Janie thought she could see some love in her mother's eyes, and it was because of that fleeting glimpse that Janie always came back to care for her mom after her "boyfriends" left, or the "medicine" wore off. It would be years before Janie would finally give up on the dream of having a "real" mom.

As for her siblings, Janie had limited communication with them. For years she had tried to maintain relationships with each of her brothers and sisters, but they only seemed bothered by her presence.

"Why don't they love me, Lyla? What have I done to make them hate me so much?" Lyla would hold Janie while she cried, and explain that it wasn't Janie's fault, that her siblings were probably feeling guilty about leaving their little sister behind. Lyla always seemed so certain of the explanation that Janie actually started to believe her. So it came as little surprise when Janie's oldest brother called her just after Janie's college graduation and asked to meet with her. Angry and hurt, Janie refused the face-to-face but did speak with him on the phone. With Lyla holding her hand, Janie listened to her brother's heartfelt apologies about his abandonment and neglect.

"We just had to get out of there," he had said, "We never thought about saving you too. There will never be a day that I don't hate myself for leaving you, Janie."

Janie had responded with an anger she had never felt or unleashed before, "And there will never be a day that I don't hate all of you for exactly that." She hung up the phone and cried for hours.

"Do you feel better?" Lyla had gently asked, while stroking her back. Janie, eyes red and swollen, shook her head.

Lyla had handed Janie the phone. "You've been holding that in for years. You needed to get it out. But honey, you don't do angry...it's not you. Call your brother and get un-angry."

With Lyla's encouragement, Janie called each of her siblings. While it never made them close, they learned to talk occasionally and see each other a few times a year. That is as much of her biological family as Janie wanted, though.

"This is as good as it gets, Jane," Lyla said as she tossed the ingredients for the salad. Janie didn't respond, and Lyla snapped her fingers in front of her friend's face, "Earth to Janie!"

Janie shook off the memory. "I'm sorry, Ly, what were you saying?"

"I was asking you if you'd heard from Max," Lyla lied with a smile.

"Lyla Paige Dalton, you may be a wonderful writer, but you're a _horrible_ liar, and that is one reason why I love you so much. You were _not_ asking about Max, but since you are now... yes, he texted me. He _texted_ me," she repeated, her voice tinged with anger. "Nothing says thanks for the smokin' hot sex, like a text. Oh, and before you ask, he wanted to know if dinner was at my place or yours."

Lyla said nothing; she didn't have to because Janie kept talking, "I texted him back one word— _Lyla's_ —and that was it. I'm beginning to wonder if Thursday night was just a figment of my imagination."

"Nope." Lyla glided past Janie, placing a kiss on her head, "I heard him in your kitchen on Friday morning with my own ears. I don't know what he was thinking, but he sounded like a happy man. Play tonight by ear, and let's see what happens. And remember, you guys were friends first."

Frustration coiled in Janie's belly. "Right...friends."

THE DOORBELL CHIMED at four o'clock, bringing the first guests. Ashley and Ryan were a modern-day Barbie-and-Ken combo, standing there at the door; each accessorized with tattoos and perfectly placed piercings. They worked at Danny's together, rented a house together, but God forbid anyone imply that they were more than roommates—daggers would fly from both of them. They were the most beautiful non-couple you could imagine, though.

Janie thought back to when she and Lyla had first started hanging out with the crew from the bar. No one had warned either woman not to ask about the apparently touchy subject of Ryan and Ashley's non-relationship. In fact, it seemed as if Lyla and Janie were encouraged to ask. When the topic finally came up one night after the bar had closed, and the women were loosened up from margaritas, Ryan and Ashley performed their own version of The Exorcist while the rest of the group laughed hysterically at Janie and Lyla's expense. It was the proverbial "Welcome to the Family". Janie stifled a giggle at the memory.

"Asshole here forgot to pick up flowers on the way home from the gym," Ashley said with a wink. Everything Ashley said and did was done with grace and ease—even calling one of her best friends an asshole. She saved all of the drama for Ryan himself. It just made Janie laugh. Ashley was too easygoing to ever be annoyed with, a rare quality to find in a girlfriend, so Janie cherished their time together.

"First of all, I am not an asshole. Second, what _Princess_ forgot to mention is that she sent me a text asking me to pick up the flowers when she heard the front door open as I got _home_ from the gym. Nice timing, sweetness." Ryan shot Ashley a look that Janie couldn't decipher. "Besides, I brought beer." He winked and kissed both Lyla and Janie before heading to the kitchen to put the beer in the refrigerator.

"Ok, children," Janie announced in her teacher voice, "Go to your corners or you'll both end up in time out." She put her hands on her hips, "And no recess!"

Ryan chuckled, "Janie, if you were my teacher, I would have never missed a day of school."

"Ass kisser," Ashley teased. With that, there was a knock at the door. The rest of the group had arrived.

Danny and Julie came with cookies and wine, and Kyle showed up looking hungover, but still sexy as hell in all his scruffiness. His eyes were red-rimmed with dark circles underneath, though, and worry for Kyle bloomed in Janie's chest. He was leaning against the door in his I'm-too-cool-for-this way, but Janie had a feeling if the doorjamb moved, Kyle would fall over.

"Rough night, buddy?" Ryan asked with a smile.

"Something like that," Kyle muttered. He leaned down to Lyla and kissed her cheek. "Hey, sexy," he said in his usual flirty tone, but his eyes held exhaustion instead of sparkle. Janie watched with fascination as Lyla breathed him in and then rubbed her arms. _Lyla is digging Kyle still? Huh...interesting._

Kyle was a beautiful man—six-foot-three, black hair, green eyes, olive skin. He was walking, talking sex. Ladies at the bar lined up to get his attention, and it wasn't abnormal for them to follow him into the bathroom, just in case he needed "help."

"Where's Max?" Janie heard someone ask as the doorbell sounded again.

MAX STOOD OUTSIDE Lyla's door for five minutes before ringing the bell. He couldn't decide if he should join his _family_ for dinner or go home to his empty house. He knew she was in there. He knew he was a bastard for not calling her, but he also knew that he couldn't walk away from Lyla's house without seeing Janie. So he rang the bell.

Lyla opened the door, and while her mouth smiled, he could see the disappointment in her eyes; she was a horrible liar.

"It's good to see you, Max. Come on in." Max leaned in to hug and kiss his friend, and his eyes immediately found Janie in the crowded room. He felt his shoulders tense and his spine straighten.

"Breathe," Lyla whispered in his ear. "You know I adore you, but you did promise to be a kind man, and I hate broken promises."

Stepping back, she motioned for him to come in, "Come on in," she voiced cheerfully—and louder this time, "Can't start dinner without you."

Max looked down at the petite, espresso-haired girl, whose presence was so much bigger than her form. Not to mention her uncanny ability to always have the answers, even to the questions unasked.

Max nodded his head, "I hope not," he said, stalking further into the house.

THE SLOW, EASY pace of the evening was familiar and comfortable. Sunday dinners were always about relaxing, never formality. Max watched Janie bounce from room to room, with a light that he could only wish would warm him again. The first ten or fifteen minutes after he had arrived were straight-up awkward. _She won't even look at me_ , he thought to himself. He knew he deserved her cold shoulder, but it felt like an ice pick through his heart; he had to do something.

He approached her on her way back from what must have been Lyla's guest room. In that moment, Max realized after all the times he had been to Lyla's he had never seen the bedrooms nestled in the back. Lyla had a way of making you feel at home in her house, without ever letting anyone get too close.

Shock crossed Janie's face when she first came out of the room, but he preferred shock over the wooden smile that took its place. "The bathroom is over there, Max. You know that."

Before Janie could move farther away, Max gently slipped his large hand around her arm and kissed her forehead. "I'm so sorry, Janie—"

He didn't get to complete his sentence before Janie interrupted him, "Look, it's no big deal. You wanted me, I wanted you. Sex with friends, right? I guess a call would have been the friendly thing to do, but...whatever." She sighed, "I'll get over it. I'm not gonna go all psycho-chick on you, okay? We're good." Janie stood on her tiptoes and kissed Max's cheek.

"We're good," he heard her repeat to him, as well as to herself, as she walked away. Max was stunned stupid. He was going to apologize for acting like an asshole, he wanted tell Janie that he wasn't good enough for her; he wanted her to have something better than what he could give her, But God love her, Janie thought he could just be done with her already? When she'd occupied his every thought for the past three days?

Max shook his head.

Sex with fucking friends—what was he thinking?

_OK_ AY, JANIE THOUGHT to herself, _that sounded believable_. _I can totally do this_. Sure, she was hurt; after the night they'd shared, how could he walk away and not look back? But she was more disappointed in herself; she knew Max didn't do relationships. She didn't know why, because he never opened up about that kind of stuff, but she knew he steered clear. She had taken what he offered on Thursday night like a kid trick-or-treating, and now she needed to find a way to be happy with the candy she had in her bag and move on _. I can get through tonight without looking like a kicked puppy...I know I can._

Janie tried to focus on the girlfriends who sat around her in the small family room, drawing their strength unknowingly; but all she could hear were mother's words echoing in her head.

"My God, kid; don't be so pathetic—you look like a whipped puppy," her mother would hiss, "You know the drill, I just need the apartment for an hour or so. Get your shit, and go to the park. I'll try to be done by dark. If not, wait on the steps outside." Janie would take her warmest sweatshirt, her blanket, and her book of fairy tales and walk to the closest playground, so her mother could meet with her current "boyfriend" to get her "medicine."

The sound of Ashley's voice pulled Janie out of her past.

"I love how you instituted the rule on clean up, Ly." Ashley giggled. Danny, Ryan, Kyle, and Max cleared the table while Janie, Lyla, Ashley, and Julie sat drinking cocktails.

"Seriously, I've been married to Danny for close to thirty years, and I have to ask him almost every night to help me," Julie said. "How the hell do you pull off telling _,_ not _asking_ , only once and get all of the men fall into line like that?"

With all eyes on Lyla, she nonchalantly looked toward the kitchen, then back at the women around her, "It's easy. I'm not fucking any of those men. I'm not living with any of those men. And I don't have to cook for them. They know that if they want to continue to eat in my house, they need to help out. Period!"

The ladies all hooted with laughter and clinked their glasses together. Before the laughter ended, the men had finished in the kitchen and joined them in the family room.

"What's so funny?" Ryan asked, his pierced brow arched and steely gaze focused on Ashley.

She stared right back and answered with a sarcastic grin, "Absolutely nothing."

"I'm getting another drink. Anyone need one?" Janie asked. Seven hands shot up. "Kyle, I am not getting you two drinks. By the looks of you, I'm thinking water should be the only liquid you add to your system," Janie said, her voice concerned.

"Jane, get me a vodka and tonic...and lose the tonic," Kyle snapped.

_How many drinks has he had tonight?_ Janie thought to herself as she shrugged her shoulders in defeat and headed to the kitchen to fetch the drinks. A chill ran up her spine as soon as Max entered the room behind her. She breathed in deeply as the light scent of sandalwood and spice permeated her senses.

_Pull it together, Janie_ , she thought.

"Hey, Max. Did you decide you wanted something after all?"

Max cleared his throat, and in his deep, sexy tone replied, "No, babe. I just thought you could use a hand bringing the drinks back to the group."

_Babe_. The term of endearment Max used for her, now felt like pins being pushed into her skin.

"Thank you," she muttered, trying to keep the unsteadiness from her voice.

While Max mixed and poured the requested cocktails, Janie grabbed a few beers from the fridge, and they headed back to the family room. This time, when they took their seats, Max sat next to her on the floor.

During the next few hours, the group spent their "family time" telling stories from their pasts, regaling Lyla and Janie with bar horror stories, which included everything from bar fights, to cat fights, to drunk and sick patrons. Some of the stories had been shared before; however, they were the kind of tales that would be funny no matter how many times they were told. Janie was grateful for the constant chatter, either way; without it she would be too focused on the sexy man sitting to her right. It was bad enough that she could hear his shallow breaths and feel the heat from his body seeping into hers. If she thought about what might actually be going on in his head, she might go crazy.

"Do you want to tell them or should I?" Lyla asked suddenly, her face open and happy.

"I'm sorry, what?" Janie looked at Lyla, confused.

"They want our story, Jane. They swear we've never told them." Lyla winked, and Janie forced a giggle. It was true—Janie and Lyla didn't do a whole lot of fuzzy-get-to-know-us bullshit. They kept their history where it belonged...in the past.

Max watched as Lyla gave a shoulder shrug. It was clearly the nonverbal cue that gave Janie the go-ahead to finally answer some of the endless questions they had managed to evade for close to six months. In a tandem telling, Janie and Lyla gave the long and colorful story of how they met as roommates at the University of Pittsburgh. How they realized that they were both from different suburbs of Philadelphia, and how they knew from the first week that they were going to be best friends. It had something to do with Jagermeister shots and four-dollar pizza pies from a place called the "O."

Janie recalled a lot of long nights studying while Lyla laughed, saying those memories were lost to her due to the long nights of _partying_. Max felt something strange in the pit of his stomach as he watched Janie tell her story. She was so relaxed and so beautiful, not at all how she was with him earlier. He wanted that Janie back. _No, man,_ he quickly chastised himself. _Don't go there. Friends...just friends._

While they regaled their friends with the silliness of their younger selves, Janie thought about the part of their story that they didn't share; the part that even she and Lyla no longer discussed. What they left out were the gory details of what really brought them together and helped to form their unbreakable bond, a bond that was forged during the countless nights when Janie would awaken to Lyla's screams and pleads to be let go, her begging of "no...please no."

After a time, Lyla began to let Janie hold her and comfort her until the fear receded. In return, Lyla gave her the thing Janie had spent eighteen years searching for, the thing she couldn't even find in her own family: unconditional love and support. Janie could depend on Lyla's presence, either physically or via phone, whenever she needed her, and Lyla had never let her down. For ten years Lyla had been her sister, and that was something that didn't need to be discussed at Sunday dinner.

Janie could feel Max's eyes on her, burning into her skin, but she resisted looking over at him. She knew that if she allowed herself to look directly into the grassy-green fields that were his eyes, she would get lost in them, and she was trying to be strong. She had said it was okay, that _she_ was okay, so she continued to look at everyone else in the group, acting _okay_ ; everyone but Max.

Max could feel his gut twisting, and his hands were physically twitching with the need to reach out and stroke her long, silky hair. He was sitting close enough that, with every inhale, he took in her scent, and it was amping up his desire and frustration. His cock was pressing into the zipper on his jeans, making it so he could barely think coherently. He couldn't handle it another second, she wouldn't even acknowledge his existence.

_Well, isn't that what you wanted_? His inner voice chided him. _You wanted her to know what it felt like to have her body cherished. You wanted to give her yours. And then you wanted to walk away without so much as a call—and you did. Make this right, DeLucca!_ His mind screamed, and he clenched his fist, breathing in quietly through his nose. He willed himself to keep his mouth shut.

"So, Janie," he huffed, "When do your students start school again?" He noticed a few strange looks thrown in his direction from Lyla and Danny, but no one else reacted.

Janie sat quietly for what felt like minutes, but was probably only a second before she answered. She had been teaching middle-school English for six years, but since she and Lyla moved around quite a bit after college, it was only her third year in the Charistown district. She loved her job, adored her co-workers, and got a kick out of her students. Plus, having her summers off to goof around with Lyla was pretty awesome, too. But the summer had to end sometime.

She sighed, "My kids come back tomorrow. I should be ready for cocktails by Thursday night, so get ready, Danny."

He chuckled and nodded, "I'm always ready, Jane! What about you, Ly? How's the column going?" Danny asked a little too casually. Lyla caught Julie shooting her husband a tense look. While she couldn't decipher it exactly, it had a "Watch your step, buddy" sign posted to it. Lyla couldn't help but smile.

Spending time with the people from Danny's on Main was like a little slice of heaven for Lyla's heart, yet a small spark of hell on her soul. She was growing to love them all: Danny, Julie, Ryan, Ashley, Kyle, and Max –– each and every one of them. While she knew they were good people, chances were each of them had some sort of skeleton in their closet. But she traveled with a whole goddamned cemetery in hers. So, as much as her heart longed to let these kind and loving people in, she knew she had to keep them at a distance. She didn't trust; she couldn't take the chance.

Lyla's face softened into a genuine smile, "It's going really well, Danny. Thanks for asking."

Janie loved how Lyla's eyes sparkled when she talked about her column. She knew that sparkle, too—she was the only one who knew that Lyla's creativity didn't start and end with the advice columns she wrote for the online papers. The real fire burned when Lyla was writing her novels. Due to her tragic past though, she chose to write under a pen name, keeping her true passion a secret from everyone but Janie.

"Writing makes me really happy," Lyla said, confidence pouring off her in waves.

"It's nice to see someone who loves their job as much as you do, honey." Julie patted Lyla's shoulder.

"What's not to love," a formerly-dazed-and-currently-drunk Kyle sneered. "She writes some advice in a column twice a month, and she doesn't have to worry about money. Not everybody is lucky enough to win the lottery."

Lyla stared at Kyle, muted by the shock of his words. Kyle had no such problem, though, as he continued his drunken rant, "We know everyone loves you. We know you love yourself. It's the world according to Lyla Dalton. You always need to put your two cents into everyone else's business. And speaking of cents...yes, Lyla, we know you have money. Jesus, can you rub it in our faces any more than you already do?" Kyle spat his words and then tried to get up to leave.

Lyla caught the pain that slid across her face before anyone but Janie could see it. She placed her "As if I care" mask on firmly. The alcohol that Kyle had consumed in the past few hours, added to whatever was still pumping through his system from the night before, caused him to stumble as he stood.

"Goddamn it, Kyle," Danny shouted, "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Lyla leaped into the conversation, voice raised and fists clenched, "It's fine, Danny. Kyle," she said, turning to face him head-on, "I'm glad we're finally close enough to share how we really feel about one another. I have thoughts about you too. Frankly, I was thinking that you were sexy, so hot in fact that I've spent weeks thinking of all of the ways I wanted to fuck you. But now you've cured me of that _insane_ notion. So, thank you." Lyla's face was blazing red, making her sky-blue eyes burn even brighter.

"As for me sticking my rich ass in everyone's business, you're gonna wish I did. You're gonna wish I stopped you from saying all of the shit that just spewed out of your drunk, fucked-up mouth." Kyle stared blankly at Lyla as her verbal lashing continued, "I'm not going to hate you for saying those things," she said, softer, beginning to rein in her temper and with it her voice, "Because tomorrow, when you wake up, you are going to hate yourself enough for the both of us." She lowered her face to Kyle's and dropped her voice to a quiet pitch, "But I will say this, and trust me, if you forget what I'm about to tell you, there are six people here to remind you. You can try, but you will _never_ be able to take back those words." Lyla rose to her five-foot-one height and turned to face the rest of the group, standing silent and in awe. "I'm leaving. Please lock up on your way out."

With her back facing the group and one foot out the door, she stopped but didn't turn around. "Before you ask, Janie, no, you can't come. I need some space. I love you."

Lyla closed the door behind her and walked into the night, alone.

LYLA'S HOUSE, WHICH had been full of laughter and love only thirty minutes before, was now heavy with sorrow and anger. Janie could hear the men in the family room yelling at Kyle, while she stood in the kitchen trying to keep herself from falling apart. Knowing Lyla, she was out there replaying Kyle's words over and over, each replay inflicting a little more permanent damage. Lyla would most likely add another layer to the already-impenetrable walls that surrounded her heart.

Lost in her own version of hell, Janie didn't even notice when Ashley and Julie entered the kitchen. She silently tried to wave them off when she saw them, knowing her voice wouldn't be strong enough to send the message, but Julie insisted that the guys needed their time to regroup and Janie needed her girls. The moment Janie felt arms wrap around her body, her legs turned to jelly, and she slid to the floor sobbing.

"Talk to us, sweetheart," Julie whispered as she sat down beside Janie, reaching an arm around her shoulder, "Let us in."

Janie continued to cry as Julie held her tight and Ashley openly listed ways to castrate Kyle.

"I'm sure we could get Danny to help. He loves Lyla. If he holds Kyle down, I could use the nut crackers, the ones we use at the bar." Ashley let out a maniacal laugh, "They crack more than walnuts, you know!"

That got Janie to stop crying for a moment, and the three women shared a quick giggle. Janie wiped her eyes and looked at her friends, "She isn't any of those things he said about her..."

"Of course she isn't!" Ashley and Julie replied in unison.

Janie nodded and then continued, "But she will believe every single word that came out of his mouth." The tears began to well in Janie's eyes again, but this time her eyes weren't the only ones filling up. She saw it hit Julie and Ashley as they began to understand the damage that Kyle truly caused. They might not know the history, but they did understand that there would be repercussions. Janie felt Julie's shiver as she hugged her tighter.

"KYLE MARX, YOU son of a bitch," Danny bellowed, "What has gotten into you? Or a better question...what have you gotten into? Those women came into our lives and made them _better_. They have made us more of a family than we ever were. They have invited us into their homes and cooked us dinner and helped us out at the bar. Lyla has driven your sorry, drunken ass home, more times than I can count. She has donated money to "Leo's Light" charity, and she has spent six months showing you unconditional love when she had no reason to, and _this_ is how you treat her? I wanna kick your ass, boy."

Danny noticed Ryan's hands were already in fists, "The only reason I haven't punched you is because I fear that if I start this fight, Ryan here will finish it. I may be angry, but I still love you and don't want him to kill you."

Danny looked at Max and then Ryan, "Sorry, son. No deaths tonight. Besides, I think the punishment will be worse when he has to look at Lyla every day from here on out and see the hurt he's caused."

Ryan unclenched his fists and stalked over to Kyle, who had quickly sobered up when Lyla closed the door behind her. His hands wrapped around the collar of Kyle's T-shirt, "Listen to me, you sorry piece of shit," he muttered between closed teeth, "Don't you ever, _ever_ speak on behalf of me, or any one of us, ever again. If she even looks at you again then you are one lucky son of a bitch, and if she ever says she forgives you? Just know that she finally learned how to lie, because no one could—or should—ever forgive the crap you said tonight." Ryan let go of Kyle's shirt, then grabbed it again. "And Kyle? If you ever even _think_ about talking to Ashley the way you spoke to Lyla, I will cut out your fucking tongue. We clear?" Ryan dropped the fabric and walked away, leaving a visibly shaken Kyle nodding in his wake.

"Max," he said as he neared the kitchen door, "Get him out of here, man." Max just grunted his assent, and Ryan disappeared into the kitchen.

"Ash, let's go," he said when he saw his roommate, "Janie, I'm sorry. I'm never gonna let Kyle talk like that again." He reached out and pulled Janie in for a hug.

"It's not your fault. But..." With a forced smile, Janie looked Ryan in the eye. "I need one of you need to get Kyle out of this house before I kill him. I'm not joking. I can't even look at him..." Janie could feel her heart still pounding. All she could see was red, "I want him gone. He has no idea what he's done."

"Max is taking care of it." Ryan gritted through his teeth, and walked out of the kitchen with Ashley tucked into his side.

Danny walked into the kitchen and directly into his wife's embrace, replacing the two who just left. The couple then reached out and pulled Janie into their hug.

Danny spoke over top of the two women's heads, "Did anyone else think it was like witnessing a Christmas miracle when Ryan and Ashley left without any arguing or complaining?" Julie and Janie both smiled...but their eyes told a different story.

***

Expecting Someone Else?

"WHY WON'T YOU turn on your phone, Lyla?" Janie asked the empty room as she paced her apartment. Her body felt weighed down by bricks, but she continued to take laps around the main room. Janie knew her well enough to know that she wouldn't turn her phone back on until she was ready to talk. When Lyla needed to clear her head—to think, to write, or to just disappear—she would turn off her phone and check out. In the past, the girls had a safety plan in case of an emergency. Lyla would keep a special cell phone with her; one only Janie had the number for, so Janie always had a direct line to her. And Lyla knew Janie wasn't going to bother her with nonsense, knew that the knowledge that her friend was "there" was a form of safety that kept Janie calm. Lyla always kept that phone on, even when she checked out from the rest of the world.

But that phone was going straight to voicemail now. Janie had come home in hopes of finding Lyla inside, but her apartment reeked of loneliness from the moment Janie had opened the door. Too anxious to sit and wait, she drove around Charistown, stopping at their favorite coffee shops, restaurants, and even the movie theater, but Lyla was off the radar. Janie knew that Lyla need time to regroup; she knew that the things Kyle had said must have cut Lyla bone-deep. She knew the things in Lyla's past that she kept hidden from the rest of the world, and she had a feeling there were things that even she, after all these years, still did not know about her best friend. Janie let out a frustrated breath. Her head was being logical, but her heart wanted to just force Lyla to show up.

She wanted so badly to take on the pain that Lyla was drowning in, to help Lyla the way she always helped Janie. When her friend resurfaced, Janie knew she would look perfect on the outside—just like Kyle had said she always did—but on the inside she would be even more lost, more cracked, more guarded, and more unreachable. And at that point, even Janie wouldn't be able to break through. God, what if Kyle's careless words were the ones that finally cemented the door to Lyla's heart closed?

Janie wanted to scream and returned home feeling only profound sadness and slight dejection at her fruitless search. She got ready for bed and left yet another message on Lyla's voicemail, "I love you, Lyla. Every part of who you are. Call me when you get home."

A hard knock on the door startled Janie, and she nearly dropped her phone. Lyla had a key to her apartment, so it couldn't be her. She set down her cell and looked through the peephole. Max stood on the other side of the door, holding himself tall and strong. The butterflies in her belly started fluttering, even though her mind was reeling with thoughts of Lyla. With a loud sigh, she opened the door and looked at the stunningly sexy man who stood before her. Before she could question his presence, Max placed a large, calloused hand on her cheek. That one gentle touch made all words evaporate from her mind.

Her eyes were red from crying, making her irises all the more vibrant. Her hair was pulled back in a messy bun, her neck and jaw exposed. _God, she's beautiful...even now_. Max mentally kicked himself for allowing his mind to wander so far from the reason for his visit: he had to check on her. He knew that Lyla's wound would cut Janie too, and no matter what his mind told him, the place in his chest where his heart once lived, begged him to go and comfort her.

"Janie, I...I had to come and see you tonight," he said, "Have you heard from Lyla?" Max didn't waste time with ridiculous questions such as, "Are you okay?" or "Do you need help looking for Lyla?" Max knew her well enough to know the answers already.

"No," Janie said through watery eyes. "I even tried to use the emergency number we've shared for years...she's off the grid." Max watched tears slowly slide down Janie's beautiful cheeks. "She has shut everyone out, Max. Even me."

Pain knifed through Janie as she started to sob, "She's out there alone...and she left me alone." Janie looked around her apartment with blind eyes, "Lyla is the only family I have, and we're both alone when we don't have to be..."

Max looked at the kind and loving woman standing before him in excruciating pain. With one large step he entered her apartment and enveloped her small frame in his embrace. He placed his lips on the top of her head as her arms wrapped around his waist, and pulled him closer. The sweet smell of her shampoo filled his lungs as he pulled in deep breaths in an effort to consume her.

"You aren't alone, Janie. I'm here. I've been your friend for months, and I'm here for you. You are not alone." He kissed the top of her head again, feeling his blood starting to flow south toward his groin without his permission.

Standing wrapped in his arms, Janie's heart was screaming that this was a bad idea. He would probably leave in the morning again, and she would be left feeling like shit. Again. But her brain didn't care about what her heart said. She needed to be part of something tonight. She needed to feel wanted. She just needed to _feel_. Standing in front of her was the one man she knew who could take care of her tonight.

As her small hands skated up his torso, she felt his heartbeat thumping in his chest. "Max," she whispered boldly, "I need more than just a friend tonight." She licked her lips as her hand slid up to his neck. Staring into his eyes, she waited for a response.

WHATEVER THOUGHTS MAY have been holding Max at bay dissipated the second he looked at the fire burning in her aqua eyes as her pink tongue moistened her bottom lip. It was all he needed to lean in and capture her mouth. Electricity crackled between them as the kiss became a hungry plea for more.

"Babe, I'm right here," Max stated gruffly, "I'm not going anywhere tonight but to your bed...if that's where you want me." He kicked the front door closed with his booted foot and swept her up like a groom carrying a bride over the threshold, and took her to her bedroom. With her face so close to his neck, his cologne both soothed her frayed nerves and fueled her desire.

When the bed hit his knees, he placed her gently on the mattress, and his eyes roamed her form for just a second. She was lithe and beautiful, and with only the light from the main room glowing down the hall, she looked like an angel. Kneeling over her, Max began the slow seduction of her body. He licked and sucked on her lips, biting gently.

"Open for me baby," he purred.

Janie opened her mouth as Max slid his warm tongue into her moist opening. She met his tongue, stroke for stroke, as Max's hands started to drift their way down her neck to her collarbone. God, she smelled and tasted so good, like the coconut and citrus lotion she used mixed with pure Janie. He could taste the salt from the tears she had shed, which made him want to beat the shit out of Kyle even more than he already did.

Anger at Kyle turned into the need to possess Janie; the feeling hit him in his gut. He refused to let himself feel possessive of another woman who could break his heart. So instead, he turned it into passion, passion for this woman who was under him and willing him to take her body.

As if she could hear his thoughts, Janie groaned and pulled him tighter against her, writhing underneath him.

"Tell me, Jane. Tell me what you need," Max said, his voice low and raw.

Janie's insides were igniting, each touch starting a small fire that was meant to consume her. "Touch me, Max," she begged, "I need your hands on my skin. I need you everywhere." She knew she sounded wanton, and maybe even desperate, but she couldn't find the presence of mind to care. She needed a connection with someone, and truth be told, she wanted that someone to be Max.

Her pleas made him feel like a king, like he was worthy of the gifts that were bestowed upon him. His fingers slowly slipped under Janie's tank top, and the cool air kissed her skin as the fabric inched up and off her body. Warm licks trailed from her stomach to her hips as Max slid down her shorts. He drew in a shallow breath when he saw her lacy, pink thong and matching bra. Sitting back on his haunches, he devoured her with his eyes.

All Janie could do was watch him. Just when she thought she would melt under his smoldering gaze, Max lowered his mouth to her breast and started to lave her nipple through the lace. She gasped, a moan escaping her lips. While Max's mouth focused on one nipple, his fingers tugged and twisted the other one through the fabric. She could feel his shaft grow harder beneath his jeans, pressing into her leg, "More Max," Janie pleaded.

With a smile, Max lifted his body and spoke softly in Janie's ear, sending goose bumps down her arms, "Janie, baby, I'll give you what you want. Let me make it amazing for you. Let me give you this."

Her breath hitched at his words, and she nodded her acceptance.

Taking her nonverbal cues as consent, Max continued his sensual attack on her lips. His only obstacle was keeping his own body in check long enough to bring her the pleasure that she so desperately needed. That he needed, as well.

Janie felt an instant loss when Max's mouth left hers, but the loss was instantly forgiven when she felt his lips trail along her skin to the spot where her neck met her shoulder. His magical hands glided down her back and unhooked her bra before she even realized they had been there. Gripping each breast in one of his large hands, he lowered his mouth to her nipple and snaked his tongue around the hardened flesh. Tingles swept through Janie's core as he blew a soft, warm breath over her nipple before pulling it back into his mouth for another hard suck. She could feel the wetness forming between her legs.

Max bit down hard enough to cause a small pierce of pain, but instantly followed his bite with a long, hot trace of his tongue. Janie wasn't sure if it was possible to have an orgasm from breast stimulation alone, but as she felt her panties dampen and her body begin to thrum, she knew the answer to that question.

"Oh, yes...Max...Oh my God."

Max continued his manipulations, as his hands moved down her body to remove her wet panties. She could feel him grin against her skin, but he could grin all he wanted to as long as he didn't stop.

"Max," Janie panted, "I need to feel your skin. I need to know I'm not alone...please." Janie hated the sound of her begging, but she had felt so lost earlier and Max was so good at being her guide. She needed him with her one hundred percent.

"You're not alone, baby. I'm here. I promise—you're not alone."

With wide eyes and a lustful smirk, she watched as he quickly moved from the bed and stripped off his jeans, boxer briefs, and cotton T-shirt, then eased his lean, hard body down next to hers. Face to face, he pulled her close, her breasts tight to his chest, their skin molding together. Max slid his hand down the satin skin of her body, to the valley of her waist and up the hills of her lush hip, and repeated the journey in reverse. When he arrived at her shoulder, he gently, but firmly, pressed her onto her back and smiled when she let out a small moan. Lying on his side, he used his right hand to continue to stroke her, the pads of his fingers running over her flat belly to her inner thigh where he stopped.

With a strangled giggle, Janie said, "Don't be a tease, Max." He exhaled and leaned over to kiss her again. His fingers slid up her thigh and into the already wet and waiting entrance of her core.

"Oh God, Janie. You're so warm and wet." He slid one, thick finger inside her as she moaned her acceptance and then he eased the digit out. She groaned her disappointment just as he slid two fingers back into her hot, aching pussy.

"Oh, Max, that feels...that feels so good."

He worked his fingers in and out of Janie's sex while his thumb massaged her swollen clit. He possessed her mouth with his hot kisses, nipping at her bottom lip as her breaths became shallower. When her legs began to shake, Max applied more pressure onto the hardened pearl, and she bucked against his fingers, groaning out his name.

Every nerve ending in her body felt exposed as she tightened around his fingers. Her toes curled and her fingers ran through his hair, gripping tightly at the soft, thick locks.

"Give it to me, Janie," Max demanded, "I'm here with you.... Let go..."

With those words, Janie came undone. The release came harder than she ever thought possible, as her heart pumped wildly in her chest. Harder than it ever had with a human partner, and the battery-operated ones weren't as warm or tender. Yes, this was quite possibly the most intense orgasm she had ever had.

Max licked his fingers; his chest filled with lust, as he watched Janie lying sated and flushed on her bed.

She didn't know why, but watching him lick her juices off his fingers turned her on even more.

"Don't worry, babe," Max said, his tongue lapping at his thumb, a small grin resting on his lips. "We're just getting started."

Janie bit her own lip as she watched Max's other hand slowly wrap around his thick, erect cock and start stroking it. Janie's previously sated body began to arouse as she watched this beautiful, sexy man pleasure himself. Eyes round like saucers, Janie continued to stare.

Max gave her a crooked smile, "Would you like to touch me, Janie?"

"Yes," she thoughtlessly answered. It only took a moment before Max straddled her body, his hard cock in his hand, and moved up her torso. Janie's mouth began to water in anticipation. She wanted this man like she wanted her next breath.

She gently cupped his balls in one hand and smiled when Max let out a groan. She massaged and rolled each ball with her hand and then her tongue, loving the feel of him against her mouth. Suddenly, she stopped, her eyes traveling up his body and stopping at the green gems that bore into her own blue eyes.

"Janie," Max said in a moan, "You're being a tease."

With a wicked smile, Janie stopped her ministrations for a brief second. "Sucks, doesn't it?"

Max replied with a deep breath and a quick _touché_. Janie went back to lavishing her attention to Max's balls, his mind swimming with anticipation, when Janie finally placed her hand on Max's shaft and he shuddered.

"Babe," he moaned.

Janie followed her first manual pump with a warm, wet lick from base to tip. A primal groan ripped out of his chest as if it had been sucked from his body.

The wet licks and sucks to Max's cock drove him wild as he grabbed on to the headboard and growled in pleasure and appreciation. She lavished his crown with special attention, especially the point just under the head, where she knew, from their first encounter, drove him wild. She tasted the first drops of salty fluid from the slit of his shaft. When it hit her tongue, she moaned her approval and sucked him deeper.

Max started to move his hips as he fucked Janie's mouth. He felt himself losing control, letting himself surge to the back of her throat. She accepted the deep thrusts with enthusiasm, grabbing his ass and moaning around him.

"I'm gonna come, babe," Max said, trying to disengage from her mouth, but Janie wouldn't let him go. "Janie, I can't hold back much longer, honey, please...Fuck!"

Janie held on tightly and continued to suck him off until Max was groaning loudly. She felt warm fluid painting the back of her throat, and she swallowed it down. Max's body was tight and covered in a light sheen of sweat. His eyes were closed, and his face, though Janie had once thought it impossible, was even more beautiful in its relaxed, sated state. Janie swallowed the last of Max's climax and gently pulled away from him.

Although the lights were dim, when Max opened his eyes, he stared at Janie with a look she had never seen before. She had no name for the emotions that she saw, and she had no desire to try and figure it out. Max stroked Janie's cheek and quietly thanked her, placing soft kisses on her forehead, cheeks, and lips. She accepted his gratitude and tried to avoid the pull of loneliness that was threatening to edge back into her mind.

"Um, do you have any interest in staying over tonight?" She asked, as every relaxed muscle in her body tightened while awaiting his response.

"Yes." His arms twined around her body, pulling her in for an embrace. "I told you—I'm not leaving you alone tonight." Breathing in the musky smell of their time together, he leaned in and kissed the top of her head.

"Okay, well, I'm going to take a quick shower," Janie announced. Max noticed her shoulders were once again becoming tense as the bliss of the moment was wearing off. He'd have to do something about that.

She went to the bathroom and turned the shower to scalding hot and stepped in. _Will he be there when I get out?_ She wondered to herself. _Or will he run the way he did last time? Will he run out like Lyla did and leave me alone?_

The fear was threatening to take her over, so she thrust her body under the hot water, focusing only on the droplets pounding against her skin. She was in the middle of washing her hair when she felt another set of hands massaging her scalp.

"Max?"

Max lathered the shampoo in her hair and let out a breathy laugh, "Were you expecting someone else?"

"That's a cheesy line, even for you, stud muffin," Janie teased. A groan escaped as Max continued to shampoo her hair.

"Stud Muffin?" He laughed, trying to keep his tone light even though he knew it was fear of him pulling another Houdini act that made her wary in the first place, "Nice." He was happy that he was standing behind her so she couldn't see the feelings he knew he must be wearing on his face.

"I can deal with cheesy if you keep doing that."

Max could feel her body relax under his touch, so he rinsed out the shampoo and applied some conditioner. As her smooth, wet skin pressed against him, his shaft began to lengthen once again. Even he was surprised at his recovery time, and he smiled into the hot droplets.

Janie felt his cock come to life between her thighs and leaned back into it, allowing the hardness to rub against her labia. The wetness pooled between her thighs, and it had nothing to do with the shower spray.

"I'm impressed, Max," She teased again, "I didn't think men your age could go again so quickly." No one would ever be able to notice the almost ten years that separated the two of them, but Janie often made fun of his old-man status. Not that thirty-seven was old, but it sure was fun to watch him squirm.

She slowly rocked her hips back and forth, keeping him nestled between her thighs. Their position had the crest of his cock connecting with her clit on both the way forward and the way back. _Perfect_.

Aroused to the point of near pain, Max cupped Janie's breasts and rolled her nipples tightly between his thumbs and forefingers. "Watch it, young lady," he purred in her ear, "or I will turn you over my knee and show you how bad little girls are treated." At those words, Janie felt a flush of wetness seep out of her pussy. She reached up and took one of Max's hands from her breast and led it down to her entrance, guiding his finger up into the wetness.

"It's time to get out of the shower, Max." Her voice was hoarse with pleasure as she turned off the tap and Max reached for the towels. He wrapped her up like a present and led her back to her bed. When he finally pressed his lips to hers, Janie felt the familiar electrical currents buzz through her veins again. She let the towel drop to the floor.

With a sexy grin, Max swept her up in his strong arms and laid her down, gently on the bed, like a sacrifice to the Gods. Her arms were lifted above her head, her legs straight and slightly separated. The sight of her in that position had him hardened with desire and nearly panting with want. Max took the scenic route, though, as he leisurely kissed and licked down Janie's body. He spread her legs farther apart and breathed in the sweet, musky scent of her lust. His eyes met her for a brief moment.

She saw hunger in his green depths of desire, but before another thought could register, she felt Max's warm tongue lap her from slit to clit. His moan vibrated through her core, sending ribbons of pleasure through her body. She heard him whisper how sweet she tasted and how he loved having her cream on his tongue. Her body began to shake. When he stuck two fingers into her drenched pussy and continued to lap and suck, Janie felt a band tightening inside her. His fingers continued their rhythm, moving in and out of her as his teeth lightly grazed her engorged nub. The internal band snapped, then, sending Janie into orgasmic bliss. Shaking, she grabbed his arms and pulled him up to her, sliding her tongue into his hot mouth, she could taste herself on him.

Breaking the kiss, she begged, "I want you inside of me, Max." She had never been so needy or so greedy before. It was as if her body knew that this might be their last night together, and it wanted to gorge itself on him. Janie's heart was beating a different tune altogether, though. She didn't want to believe it, she knew it was impossible, but she was falling in love with this strong, protective, beautiful man. If she were being honest with herself, she'd admit that she'd been falling in love with him for months. When she was with other men they had been friends. When he was with other women they had been friends. But now, knowing that they could have _this_ ...God, how could she go back?

Her fingers danced down the smooth plane of his back, stroking the sinew and muscles as she slowly found her way to his hard, firm ass. His skin was satin and fire, his body silk and stone, "I want you," she whispered, kissing his neck.

Max looked at her with a hooded gaze, his lids fringed with dark-blond lashes, the sexiest bedroom eyes Janie had ever seen, "Anything for you, Janie...anything."

"The condoms are in the nightstand," she said, "Get one."

Desire was radiating from her in waves, and Max felt like a God for being the man to put that lust in her eyes. A punch of jealousy hit when the open drawer revealed a bowl of condoms and a few different vibrators.

_You have no rights to this woman,_ he thought to himself.

Those internal words held little comfort, though, when the image of Janie with another man flooded his mind. He could feel his anger start to flare as he clenched his jaw. With his concentration lost for a brief moment, Janie wrapped her legs around his waist and reversed their positions. A surprised Max was now flat on his back, wide eyes staring at the sexy, naked woman straddling him.

"What are you doing?" The question came out in a breathless whisper.

"Well, Max, it appears as though I'm going to fuck you," Janie said. Her uncharacteristic boldness sent a shiver up her spine, and her words made Max's already painful erection start to weep. Janie ran her hands down Max's chiseled chest, her fingers gliding over his pectorals as she leaned forward and kissed and sucked each nipple. She rubbed her hands down the ripples of his abs and finally took his length in her hand. He moaned loudly, spurring her on.

Janie reached over to grab the condom from him, and she tore the wrapper with her teeth. His eyes shot open as he watched Janie roll the latex over his engorged cockhead and down to the base of his dick.

"Janie, baby," he said, his voice was weak, "You need to put me inside you...or I'm going to finish before we start."

Janie wrapped her long fingers around Max's cock, lifted her torso, and slid her body down on top of him, in one fluid movement. They moaned in unison as their bodies connected, as close as two people could get.

"Oh God, Max, you feel so good..." Janie started to lift her body up Max's cock and settle herself back down. Over and over she rode him as their heated flesh collided. Max tilted his head up and pulled Janie forward so he could lick her breasts and taste her skin. They continued their pace, slow and deep, groaning and panting, bestowing the pleasure that each thought the other deserved.

Max couldn't take it anymore. He wrapped his strong, corded arms around Janie's torso and flipped her to place her body under his. His smile shone bright, even in the dimly lit room as he grunted.

"Hold tight, baby..."

Max slammed into Janie, and she let out a loud cry of pleasure as he continued to push, balls-deep, into her willing body. Both of them were covered in sweat, breathing heavily, and staring into one another's eyes, but neither one wanted to sever the connection.

_What are you doing, man?_ Max asked himself. _You are making_ love _to this woman...what are you gonna do?_

As the thoughts floated in his brain, Janie shifted her legs and drove Max in deeper. The sensation was consuming and he could feel the tingle start in the base of his spine. He reached down to rub Janie's clit while he continued to move in and out of her warmth. He felt her tighten around him as she splintered into a thousand pieces with her climax. Her pussy gripped Max's cock like a glove, and she continued to writhe while her pussy walls milked every drop of release from him. Boneless and sated, they laid woven together in Janie's bed, with nothing but the sound of their breath and the smell of their lust in the air.

Finally—and reluctantly—they disentangled, and Janie got up and headed to the bathroom. Max assumed she was going to get ready for bed, but Janie turned around and grabbed her cell phone from the dresser before closing the bathroom door.

JANIE LOOKED AT herself in the mirror; she looked well and truly fucked. Her cheeks were flush, her lips were swollen, and she even had slight beard-burn on her chin. She was a mess.

_Nice_ , she thought to herself, a _nice way to meet the new students_.

Looking down at her hands she noticed that they weren't shaking, though. She was alright; still worried about Lyla, but alright. Max had been there for her ––was still there for her—and she was alright.

She performed her quick bedtime routine and then called Lyla.

Voice mail. Again.

"Ly, honey, it's me. I wish you would call me, just to let me know that you're okay. What am I saying? I know you're not okay. Well...I love you, Ly. I'm here. Please don't shut me out." Janie disconnected the call and sent a text for good measure, telling Lyla that she loved her and asking her again to reach out.

When Janie looked back in the mirror, there were tears in her eyes. She turned off the bathroom light so Max wouldn't see, and got into bed. She rolled onto her side and immediately Max was spooning her, "What are you doing, Max?"

"I'm here, Janie," was all he said as he held her close and kissed her shoulder softly.

MAX HELD JANIE until her body finally relaxed into sleep. Even though her back was spooned to his front, he could still feel the slight shaking from the tears she tried to hide. He had heard her leaving the message for Lyla and the quiet plea for a return call, but allowed her to maintain her privacy when she crept back into bed.

Self-hate filled his mind as he held her close, running his fingers through her silken hair and placing soft kisses on the crown of her head. Comforting her felt good...natural...but unacceptable - Friendship; that's what he could give her. He was already in too deep, and he couldn't risk his heart ever again, tomorrow he was going to have to resurrect the walls that she had unknowingly blown apart. The lyrics to Maroon 5's song, "Daylight" played through his mind, he knew it was late but the thought of closing his eyes and missing one minute of this time with her made him ache. He didn't want to think about leaving, so instead he pulled her closer to his body and allowed her warmth to flow through his skin. He didn't want to leave, but he knew he didn't have the heart to stay, so Max allowed himself the handful of hours that he had left to hold the woman that he had fallen for so unwillingly. He soaked up her soft scent, stroked her hair and listened to her breathe. He was in too deep with Janie Silver. _Fuck!_

As the hours passed, sleep evaded him. If only he could trust again...This was _Janie,_ not just some random woman. How was he going to fix this? How would he be able to walk away? Could they still be friends? Would she let him go? Did he want her to? He slammed his eyes shut tight, the questions battering him when he heard Janie's voice.

_Shit!_ He held his body very still, but relaxed once he realized that she was just talking in her sleep. Her body tensed beside his as she called out for Lyla, and then his heart stopped when her sleeping lips begged for him. Holding her tighter, he placed butterfly-soft kisses on her fair skin, careful not to wake her.

One more hour and he would have to say good-bye. Max felt his chest tighten, his anxiety reawakening. He needed to get to the track. A few hours in his car at 150 miles per hour should help calm him down. His heart had already been gone for more than ten years, but he still had to protect what was left of his soul, and he knew he was screwed. Knowing what he was about to do, the sound of the alarm clock forced him to close his eyes in an attempt to shut out the inevitable.

QUICKLY TURNING OFF her alarm, she turned to make sure it hadn't disturbed Max. Nope, he was sound asleep. Janie checked her phone next—no messages from Lyla; her mind started to race again. She couldn't just lie there thinking.

After showering and dressing in the bathroom, Janie looked at Max's sleeping form.

"God, you are so beautiful," Janie whispered almost inaudibly. She swiped her cell, closed the bedroom door, and went to the kitchen. She grabbed a cereal bar and left Max a note.

Max,

Thank you for last night. You're an incredible friend...and maybe something more. You were exactly what I needed.

Chat soon.

J

Janie took her bags and left the house. First stop: Starbucks. Caffeine was a must to get through this day.

AS SOON AS Max heard the front door close, he sat up. He was such a pussy, pretending to sleep instead of facing that amazing woman and telling her that they had to go back to the "just friends" part of their relationship. He grabbed her pillow and held it to his face, inhaling deeply so he could memorize her scent.

Over and over, the words played through his head as he got dressed and left the bedroom. _Just friends._

On the kitchen counter next to his keys was a note. Her flowing, scripted handwriting felt like a kiss on the cheek, but the words were a stab to his chest.

A friend...and maybe something more...

He felt like such an asshole, but that didn't change the facts. He couldn't stay. He knew he couldn't trust, he couldn't love blindly, and he couldn't give his whole heart. So that was it.

She was wrong in her note—he wasn't what she needed. He wasn't what anyone needed. He stood up straighter and snatched the note off the counter. He shoved it in his pocket and walked out the door, refusing to look back.

***

Are you Sure You Can Spare It?

AS JANIE WAITED in line for her coffee, she heard the chime of her text alert. She took her first deep breath since Lyla left the previous night, at the sight of her best friend's name on her cell.

Sorry I left you last night. Hope you weren't alone. OK here. Just need some time. Have a gr8 first day of school. Chat later. XO L

_Thank God_ , Janie thought, sending a text back.

Please don't ever go silent on me like that again. I was scared! Max came by though... School's out at 2:30. Call you then. XO

Coffee now in hand and worry fading, Janie plowed through her morning, meeting students and discussing expectations for the school year. Between afternoon classes she snuck glances at her cell in hopes of seeing a text from either Lyla or Max, each time slipping her phone away in disappointment. When it was finally the end of the day, Janie was ready for another caffeine fix. She headed to the teacher's lounge, bags and half-full travel mug ready to go. She was like a tornado rushing for the coffee machine, whirling around only to collide with the broad, hard chest of the young, new Algebra teacher.

"Oops! Mr. Michaels! I am so sorry—I clearly wasn't paying attention." Janie couldn't help the blush that crept to her cheeks and then cringed, "I hope I didn't spill on you..."

"No harm done." The sexy teacher smiled, wiping away the small splash of coffee from his suit sleeve, "I'll join you if you're walking out." Janie watched the dimple in his right cheek deepen and nodded.

The silence as they walked was awkward, the clicking of their shoes on the blacktop, the only sound. Janie couldn't take it anymore.

"So, you survived your first day, huh?"

"I guess so," he responded hesitantly, pulling at his shirt collar, "Who would've thought that eighth grade girls could flirt like that? It makes a man uncomfortable."

Janie smiled and patted his arm. Her eyes widened at the feel of the bulging biceps under his sports coat. She gently took her hand off his arm as to not create more of a spectacle of herself. At just over six feet tall, the mocha-skinned man with milk-chocolate-colored eyes was a sight to behold. No wonder those girls were flirting with him!

"Listen, Michaels, junior high girls are hormonally charged time bombs. Do your best to be kind, but never be alone in your classroom with one of them." Janie paused. "Let's just say there was an incident a couple of years ago with a student and a married teacher...and I know the teacher was innocent. I also know the teacher is no longer married and no longer teaching here." Janie raised an eyebrow at him.

"Uhh..." he said, looking flustered, "Well, that's not good." He chuckled then. "Thanks for the heads-up."

"No problem," Janie threw over her shoulder as they parted ways.

WELL, MAX, IT appears as though I'm going to fuck you...

The words she whispered to him in the dim light of her room, the night before, reverberated in Janie's head. She still couldn't believe that she had found the guts to say those things to him. She wasn't _that_ person; she had never been _that_ person. She must have been channeling Lyla. The thought brought a slight smile to her lips; she had tried so many times to be a super-confident, strong woman, but she never quite made it. Or maybe, she mused, maybe being with a man that made her feel comfortable and self-assured allowed her to dig deep and find the woman she was meant to be.

She felt herself start to frown when she began to think about the men from her past. After so many guys told her that she wasn't enough, by either verbally abusing her or cheating on her, she'd started to believe that they were right. She lost a little piece of herself in every one of her poor romantic choices until all that was left was a shell of a person. For years Lyla had been trying to get Janie to take a look at who she really was. Not to show her what she was becoming, but instead to show her what she was leaving behind. Janie refused to take that look, though, and Lyla refused to leave her behind. Instead, Lyla stood just behind her through every damaging relationship and stood beside her during every single break-up.

And then there was Max.

Over the past six months, he had made her laugh to the point of tears. He always referred to her as "sexy," or "sweetness," or "babe," and while Janie had never given it conscious thought before, his actions had given her the confidence to act on her desire to take what she wanted—no, what she _needed_ —from him the previous night. The realization sent a jolt through her system. The question was; what should she do now?

LYLA RESPONDED TO Janie's text, requesting they talk instead of text with a simple _I'm fine_ , followed by _I promise to actually call you tomorrow_. Janie sighed but understood: Lyla needed more time.

The dinner invitation Janie received from Ashley and Julie helped to ease some of the hurt that Lyla's absence was causing. She knew her best friend was going through her own stuff too, but Janie needed Lyla, just as much as Lyla didn't want to admit she needed Janie. At least a night out would be distracting.

The three women met at The Sombrero, their favorite Mexican restaurant, for dinner and drinks. The red walls met colorful Mexican blanket panels draped across the windows—décor that could make anyone cheerful, no matter her mood upon entering.

"Have you actually spoken to her?" Julie asked.

Janie tried her best to explain, without going into too much detail, how important it was to let Lyla have her space. "She promised to let me hear her voice tomorrow," Janie stated, "You may not know this yet about Lyla, but she _never_ breaks a promise, and she never lies. Of course, she can't lie for shit...so maybe that has something to do with it."

The three women chuckled and toasted their margaritas to Lyla.

"Okay," Ashley said with a raised brow, "I have wanted to ask this for days, but I kept hoping you would bring it up...what's the deal with you and Max?"

Janie's mouth opened, but no words came out. She looked at both women; Julie silently sent a smile and a wink in Janie's direction.

"I don't know, Ashley," Janie said, turning her attention to Ashley with a sassy flip of her hair, "What's the deal with you and Ryan?"

Julie spit out her drink, and now it was Ashley's turn to look like a fish out of water. "Message delivered, message received."

As the women started on their third round of drinks and tapas, Janie was sporting a nice margarita-buzz.

"So, here's the deal with Max," Janie slurred slightly, "There is no deal." She kept her eyes down toward the terracotta-tiled floor, not wanting to see the sympathetic stares she knew she was getting from the woman across the table. "He said he wanted me, and I wanted him _soooooo_ badly. The phrase 'sex with friends' was thrown out, and my God, I have been half in love and completely in lust with that man for months. So when he tossed out the idea, I reached out to catch it, not caring if I wasn't wearing a glove. So, he comes to me, seduces me...and I loved every second of it."

The words were falling out of her mouth like sand from a sieve, but she couldn't stop them. She knew she would probably regret the candid conversation in the morning, but damn it, she needed to get it off her chest. "So, the next morning he goes to get me coffee and he comes back a different man; all skittish and kind of cold. He left and I didn't hear from him for days. Then Sunday night...happened. You saw him Sunday night, right? It wasn't my imagination?" Janie was finally looking her friends in the eyes.

Julie, having only sipped one drink all night, put her hand on Janie's, "Yes, honey, we all saw how he looked at you—and how protective he was."

"Thank God," Janie said, "I was beginning to think it was all in my head! So, yeah, everything happened with Kyle and Lyla, and so I went home. I'm gonna be honest, I was a fucking mess. Lyla's like my sister."

Janie saw the awareness in Julie's eyes, "Why didn't you say anything? I would have stayed with you if you needed a friend..."

Squeezing Julie's outstretched hand, Janie lowered her eyes back to the ground as she quietly replied. "Honestly, the only person I've ever had to depend on is Lyla.... When she left the house and went silent on me"—Janie's eyes welled with unshed tears—"Well, anyway, I didn't know what to do. I went looking for her myself but no luck."

"Janie!" Julie snapped, "You went looking for Lyla alone at night?!"

Janie nodded silently. When the silence stretched on for a beat too long, Julie took a deep, audible breath, and Janie lifted her eyes. She could feel the daggers being mentally shot at her as Julie's posture went rod-straight and her mouth pinched tight.

With Julie's next deep inhale, Janie heard Ashley stage-whisper, "Ooh, you're in trouble!"

Julie's hard grip on Janie's hand pulled her out of her reverie, "Look at me, young lady. You are a young, beautiful, sexy woman. You do not _ever_ go around town at night, getting in and out of your car alone. Do you hear me?" Janie nodded. "Words, Janie, I need words!"

With that phrase, an image of Max formed in her head, his voice saying that same line dancing in her mind. "Yes, Julie," she sighed, "I hear you loud and clear. And what's with you guys at the bar and your need for words?"

Ashley giggled through her fingers.

"Janie, I don't know what kind of crappy situations you and Lyla are coming from because the two of you guard your secrets like the National fucking Treasure, but I will have you know that you are no longer alone." Julie's voice softened, "You have us. _All_ of us. We are not perfect people, as Kyle can attest, but we love you. So, let us."

Janie felt warm tears inching down her cheeks, and once she realized she was crying she gave herself over to the emotion. Great big sobs started pouring out of her small frame, and within a second's time, Julie enveloped her in a hug. She whispered kind, loving words and stroked her hair. It was the first time in Janie's life that she felt anything even resembling a mother's love.

After a minute, Ashley cleared her throat and called to the waitress, "Another round, please."

Janie wiped her eyes and started laughing.

"So," Ashley said, "Can we get back to the whole Max thing now?"

Janie threw a chip at Ashley and continued their earlier conversation, "So, after he shows up at my apartment and tells me that he is there to be my friend, I turned into a complete slut and basically forced him to have sex with me." The only thing hotter than the feel of Janie's cheeks, was the salsa on the table.

"Give me a break, Jane. I am willing to bet my tips on a Thursday night that there was no force needed to get Max into your bed," Ashley declared.

Ignoring what was probably the truth, Janie forged on, "It was amazing and beautiful, but...I don't know. It felt more like a good-bye than anything else." Then with as much casualness as she could muster, she added, "Maybe it's for the best."

Her stomached clenched when she made Ashley and Julie promise not to get involved in the whole situation—or in this case, the whole _non_ -situation—and they immediately gave each other what Janie could only describe as a suspicious look. Janie knew those looks; she and Lyla used them all the time...usually just before they did something they weren't supposed to do.

ON TUESDAY MORNING, Janie received a text:

Hey, Jane. Just wanted to check in with you. Have you heard from Ly? M

_I've got to stop looking for hidden meaning in this text_ , Janie thought to herself as she read it over and over again, whenever she had the chance between classes. It's a _friendly_ text. He's being _friendly_.

Having read and re-read the message for what felt like the hundredth time, Janie finally responded.

All's fine. Got a text from Ly...should hear from her later today :) J

Before she could overanalyze her response, she pressed _Send_ , slipped the phone in her pocket, and went on with her day.

LYLA'S CALL CAME while Janie was driving home from work that day. There had been several texts, but it was the first time she had heard Lyla's voice since Sunday. She pulled over to the side of the road when she felt her throat tighten and her eyes begin to sting.

"Hi, honey, how are you?" Janie's voice filled with fake bravado.

"Cut the crap, Jane." Snarkiness oozed from Lyla.

"Fine, Ly. Where the fuck are you?"

"You know where I am, Janie." The retort told Janie everything she needed to know, but nothing she wanted to hear.

"You're not going back to your place, are you?" Janie asked quietly.

"No. I can't."

Janie heard Lyla take a deep breath. She was going to kill Kyle.

"Can I please come see you?" Janie pleaded.

"Of course, Jane...of course. I am so sorry I left you. I just needed to...I just needed to, well, you know."

Janie understood what Lyla wasn't saying, "Which hotel? What room number? What name?" Janie spat out the questions that she'd asked too many times before.

"Hilton, room 815, L. Paige," Lyla answered without hesitation.

"I'll see you in fifteen minutes."

She had to hurry; Lyla only did this when she was riding a downward spiral. Janie knew this one would be one of the worst.

"DANNY'S ON MAIN," Julie answered the phone cheerfully.

"Hi, Jule, it's me...Janie."

"Hi, honey. Is everything all right?" She asked in her protective, mother bear way.

Janie knew her anxious tone was most likely the reason for Julie's change in demeanor. "You wanted me to open up, right? You want us to be like family?" Janie didn't wait for a response; she was too upset, too nervous about what she was going to find when she got face-to-face with Lyla. "Well, here you go. This is me telling you something, okay?" Janie's voice was shaking and Julie was silent. "Are you there, Jul?"

"Go on, sweetie," Julie replied in a sturdy voice.

"I know Kyle hasn't been in yet this week, I know Danny's upset with him and took him off the schedule. But I need either you or Danny...yes, Julie, I know he is in there with you right now."

"Yes, honey, he's here go on. I'll put you on speaker."

Janie pulled in another breath—through what sounded to Julie like tears—and continued.

"I need one of you to talk to Kyle." The sadness bleached out of her voice and was replaced by anger, an anger Janie hadn't felt in years. "Tell him that his carelessness has ruined a part of Lyla that can never be fixed. Tell him there has never been a dollar or a dime that has come to her for free. Every cent she has ever had has come from either hard work or from the pieces ripped out of her soul. I would tell him these things myself, but I'm scared I would actually kill him."

When the line remained silent, Janie spoke the catch phrase that was so often used by the family at Danny's. "Words, Julie, I need words."

"Yes, Janie. I will personally give him the message."

"Thank you, Julie. I love you." Janie disconnected the phone without waiting for a response. She now knew and believed that Julie loved her. She didn't need the reassurance.

"WAS THAT JANIE?" Max asked, standing in the open door to Danny and Julie's shared office. After hearing about the conversation that they had with Janie, Max found himself back in the all-too-familiar feeling of wanting to beat the shit out of Kyle, "Did she say where she was going, or if Lyla came home yet?"

"No, son," Danny said, "She only told us what we told you, and then she hung up."

"All right...Well, let me know if you hear back from her, okay?" The tension coiled like a snake in his gut, he wanted to call Janie. Hell, he wanted to go to her. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and shield her from all of her pain, but in order to protect her; he would have to let her in, which would mean stepping out of his own armor.

No, he couldn't do that. He had let Chloe in. He had given her everything. She used to say he was her knight in shining armor, and then she slayed him with his own sword. No, he wasn't going there again. Being friends would have to be enough.

THE CLINK OF the deadbolt and the jingle of the door chain told Janie just how unsafe and insecure Lyla was feeling. Lyla always needed extra security when she went into her dark place.

The door of room 815 slowly opened to a pale, exhausted-looking Lyla. Janie couldn't control the tears as she reached out to embrace her friend.

"Crying is for pussies, Janie. We've talked about this," Lyla said with a plastic smile that didn't reach her eyes, "I ordered pizza and ice cream," Lyla announced, the relief of Janie's presence palpable.

"Oh, thank God. I'm starving." Janie sniffled and wiped her eyes, then took in Lyla's appearance. The deep, purple circles under Lyla's eyes showed exactly what Janie had suspected. "Have you slept at all?" she asked.

"Only about two or three hours a night, the nightmares are back..."

After stroking Lyla's arm, Janie reached into her pocket and handed Lyla a little, amber prescription bottle.

"I love you, Janie Silver. How did you know?" Lyla accepted the sleeping pills and put them aside for later.

"What do you mean, how did I know? I'm your best friend! Who knows you better than me?" With a shrug of her shoulders, she continued, "I know that you are not okay right now, Ly, and when you're not okay, you don't sleep. That being said, there's something I need to get off my chest before we can move forward."

Lyla looked at Janie's breasts, "Are you sure you can spare it?" she said, voice monotone.

They both smiled, and Janie's middle finger crept up and pointed at Lyla.

"Seriously, Ly, your disappearing act wasn't cool. We've been friends, best friends...we know all the deep, dark shit about each other...for over ten years. And you have never given me radio silence like you did this week. Why would you do that? What Kyle said was horrible, I understand. It was awful, untrue, and disgusting, but bad enough that you would shut me out?" Janie exposed her vulnerability to Lyla, like a cat rolling over to expose its belly, "It hurt me, Lyla. I felt so..."

Lyla grimaced as she saw the pain in her best friend's eyes. She never meant to hurt her; she was just trying to save herself. God, that sounded horrible even in her own head. Maybe she was as awful as Kyle had said, "I'm so sorry, Jane. Maybe Kyle was right. I—"

"Stop it!" Janie snapped, "You know what he said was bullshit. What is really going on?"

Lyla loved Janie like a sister, like no other person in the world. Janie was her tether to reality. She helped to keep her past where it belonged and encouraged her to build a life and a family, but there were some things even Janie didn't know. Things that were too dark to share. Janie was too pure and kind to be exposed to that kind of cruelty, so Lyla kept those things to herself. She had a suspicion that Janie knew she still hid certain things, but they both adhered to the "don't ask, don't tell" policy. Therefore, Lyla only told Janie the things she needed to know, and this was one of them.

"Jane, George was up for parole this week," Lyla stated calmly. Janie gasped as Lyla's words sunk in. George had been a one-time friend who turned into a long-time nightmare. He met Lyla when her first few novels were published and was convinced that he was in love with her; he became obsessed with both the books and the author. When Lyla tried to explain to George that she didn't return his feelings, his obsession grew.

Janie sank into the memory of that night, had she not arrived at Lyla's apartment when she had, she would have been too late. As it was, Janie had never seen so much blood. Thank God she had had the foresight to call the police before going to Lyla's—she just knew something wasn't right, she could feel it. Lyla always returned her calls but not that night. Janie's intuition had nothing on the reality of the situation, though. Janie could still hear Lyla's screams in her dreams.

When the police had arrived, they incapacitated George with one shot to the leg and dragged him off, leaving the paramedics and Janie to help a broken, battered Lyla _._ To this day, when Janie remembered that horrible night, the part that resonated most was what happened after Lyla was taken to the hospital. When Janie was finally permitted to see Lyla in triage, she looked at the shattered face of her beloved sister and saw that what had been left of the tiny flame—of what Janie saw as hope—was gone. Lyla was hidden behind her walls, and Janie wasn't sure if anything or anyone would ever get past them again.

"He didn't make it," Lyla continued, "but my lawyers contacted me to inform me of the possibility. Knowing there was even a chance, along with all of the things that Kyle said; it was just too much to bear. I can't go back to that house now, Janie. You know how it is...how I get. It's full of...yuckiness now."

Janie looked pointedly at Lyla. "Ly, you are a fucking wordsmith and all you could come up with to describe the pain and turmoil that is making you leave your home is _yuckiness_ ...really?"

Lyla laughed deeply, "Yep. That about sums it up."

Janie felt a pang of sadness when she watched the momentary happiness being sucked back out of Lyla's face like a sponge, as she continued to speak. "It wasn't my home, anyway; we both know that. It was just a house. I've already found a new one close by; in fact, it's even closer to your apartment complex. I can close next week since the owners have already vacated. I called the movers and they will pack up my shit and move it to the new place." Lyla stopped the pacing that she hadn't realized she had started, "Jane, will you go over and pack up the important stuff?"

Janie knew exactly what "stuff" Lyla was referring to. This was not the first time Lyla had up and moved like this, nor was it the second, or the third.

"Of course, I'll pack your things, honey, but eventually you're going to have to stop running."

Lyla shrugged, "I know, but eventually is not now."

Reaching out, Janie grabbed Lyla's arm and pulled her in for a hug, "Okay, Ly."

"Okay, Jane."

That was the end of the conversation. They ate their pizza and their ice cream and watched _Pretty Woman_ and _Sixteen Candles_. Finally, Janie handed Lyla a sleeping pill and a glass of water.

"Sweetie, you need to get some sleep," Janie said, "First of all, you lose all creativity when you're sleep deprived, and you have a deadline fast approaching. Second, and of course, most important, you look like shit Ly." The girls laughed and Lyla nodded, taking the pill and crawling onto the bed.

Janie stroked her hair and told her about her new students as Lyla started to drift off. Just before Lyla closed her eyes she looked at Janie.

"Thank you...for always being here. I love you."

Janie's eyes got moist as she continued to smooth Lyla's hair. When she was certain that Lyla was out for the night, she left the hotel room and headed home.

JANIE DIDN'T SEEM to notice the eyes watching her as she got out of her car and walked across the parking lot to her apartment. Janie's complex was a three-story walk-up, with all of the front doors opening to the outside. Max often commented to both Janie and Lyla that he didn't think women should live in places with such little security, but tonight it worked to his advantage. He was able to watch her as she took the stairs up to her second-floor apartment, unseen.

When he saw her enter her place and close the door behind her, he let out a deep sigh. He had been waiting for hours for her to come home. He couldn't deny he was worried about her. _But not worried enough to knock on her door, huh, DeLucca? You're such a jerk._ He gripped the wheel of his Jeep with white knuckles and tried to refocus.

He knew she'd been to see Lyla, and her step seemed lighter as she walked. He was grateful that the women reconnected. His stomach finally unclenched after days of worrying about Lyla's safety and Janie's heart.

"Fucking Kyle," he mumbled to himself. Max had called the little bastard the day before, and judging by their brief conversation, Danny had been right in not letting Ryan kill him. Kyle was doing a bang-up job keeping himself in a perpetual state of fucked-up. Max knew he would have to speak with Ryan and Danny about some kind of intervention eventually, but tonight he felt like sticking with the jerk theme and maybe throwing in a little narcissism for good measure. He scrolled through his cell until he found the number he was looking for and pushed send.

"DeLucca, my friend," the rough voice sounded. Max could hear the man's smile through the phone.

"Hey, Gage..."

Sebastian Gage chuckled when Max didn't continue to speak. "So, it's like that, huh?"

"Yeah, man," Max answered, "It's like that. I have nothing to say."

"I'll tell you what, DeLucca...I just closed the shop, and I got nowhere else to be. Why don't you and your sweet-ass ride come and meet me at my track. It's late, so everyone else should be gone by the time I get there. I'll turn the on the lights down at the oval so you can _think_.''

Max heard Gage laughing at how well he knew his friend, "I'll give you about an hour while I do some paperwork. If you're interested afterward, maybe we can grab a bite and a beer. You can tell me what the hell has you so fucked up, as if I don't already know."

Equal parts fear, frustration, confusion, and something else he refused to consider, weighed on Max's shoulders as he pulled out of his watching spot and headed home to get his Ferrari. In thirty minutes he would be doing the one thing that makes him bone-deep happy—well, the second thing...the first thing just turned off the lights in her apartment.

Janie sat by the window and watched the jeep pull out of the parking lot. _I thought we were friends, Max_ , the small voice in her head said as his taillights faded into the dark. The voice cheered at the fact that he had waited to make sure she got home safely, while another voice sharply reminded her that he didn't have the balls to face her...again!

After fighting an internal battle, one that she wasn't certain if she had won or lost, she shot Max a quick text.

Saw Lyla. She is doing Ok. Thought you'd want to know. Chat soon. J

STRAPPED IN TIGHT with nothing but asphalt in front of him, Max pulled in a deep breath and pushed down the gas. The engine roared, and his body thrummed as he held onto the wheel of his Ferrari. It wasn't often that he got to open up his baby like this to see what she could do. He made a mental note to send Gage a bottle of his favorite scotch as a thank you for the extra "thinking time." The benefit of driving the oval was that Max could do it on autopilot. That's probably why Gage offered it as often as he did; he understood.

Max and Gage had been best friends for their entire lives. "Almost our entire lives," Max snarled out loud as he pressed down harder on the gas. The three years they didn't speak because Chloe made him choose between his best friend and his wife were the worst years of his life.

"Obviously, I chose wrong...again," he continued with his monologue.

Max looped the track, going as fast as his car would take him. The pace lulled his mind, allowing his body to unwind and ease. However, as relaxation came, so did the memories he'd spent the last seven years trying to forget.

His years with Chloe filtered through his mind, all of her lies, all of her cheating. The feeling of hurt and betrayal still burned like acid on his skin. But the day she told him she was pregnant with another man's baby—the same day she casually called out, "How many men do I need to fuck before you let me go?" As she got into her lover's car and left him standing in the driveway—was the day he finally broke.

The gas pedal hit the pad as the loops melded into each other.

***

That Went Well . . . No?

"SORRY ABOUT LAST night, man." Gage stared into his glass, "Family drama...you know how it is."

By the time Max was done with his drive, Gage had already left the track. His reasoning didn't come as a surprise though—Gage had been dealing with family "drama" since they were little boys, courtesy of his nasty, drug-addled, alcoholic excuse of a mother. This time she was causing grief to his terminally ill grandmother. Max spent all of his childhood and most of his adult life working at Gage's family business, the Gage Garage, so he knew the havoc his mother could wreck.

"No problem, Gage. I probably would have been shit company last night anyway," Max admitted, placing his beer on the wooden tabletop that had been etched with names of hundreds of people who had sat there before them.

Chopper's was a local bar that drew a large biker clientele, but they were just as well known for their burgers, drinks, and pool—the latter being the reason why the men had decided to meet there. While the natural vibe was chill, it could change in an instant if the wrong thing was said or the wrong woman was poached. Chopper's was known for the ink on the skin of its patrons and the leather hugging the curves of its women.

"Women," Max declared, "all sorts of drama. Are they even worth it?"

Gage stared, a deadpan expression on his face, at Max's ridiculous question and set down his glass. "Hell yes," he answered with a laugh.

Gage eyed his next shot, trying to get the striped eleven in the corner pocket. "So, are you gonna talk or do I have to go all Matt Lauer on your ass?" With a click, the ball went in the pocket, and Gage grinned, calling his next shot, "Fifteen in the side pocket."

Max hesitated, "I don't know..." _Click_ —the ball went in.

Gage looked up at Max, "Dude, how many years is it gonna take before you realize that I know your bullshit face? I, too, sit in that bar, not every Thursday, but a lot of them. While my sights are set on a different woman, she just so happens to be sitting next to the one that has you all tied up. Do you think I'm blind?"

Max knew he couldn't lie to his friend, he had already shared more of the intimate details over shots the night after he and Janie had first slept together.

"You said the sex was hot—'smoking fucking hot' were the exact words I think you used. So, what's your problem?"

"My problem, douche bag, if you remember correctly, is that I didn't call." Max took his shot and sunk the first ball but missed the second.

"So what?" Gage shrugged, "You apologize, ask for forgiveness, and move on. I've seen her, Max. She's into you. She's like a light, and when you're around her you glow too—Fuck!" Max looked at Gage with concern, "I'm starting to sound more like Oprah than Matt Lauer. I need to get into a fight tonight. Must have more testosterone," Gage said in a robot voice.

Max laughed a deep, hearty laugh for the first time in ages as Gage proceeded to kick his ass at pool...again. But then he got serious, "I already apologized." Max filled Gage in on what happened at Sunday dinner, and he watched as Gage's face went tense and red.

Max didn't realize his mistake until he saw Gage's reaction. Now he feared for Kyle's life even more, "Oh shit, Gage. I'm sorry—I wasn't thinking. I shouldn't have told you that."

"I'm gonna kill that son of a bitch," Gage seethed. Max knew that Gage's interest in Lyla went much deeper than the surface, but he also knew that he wouldn't get involved with any woman on more than a physical level until he squared away his family issues. For Gage, Lyla was much more than just physical.

It sucked to see his best friend alone for so many years, but he totally understood his desire to keep a potential loved one away from the craziness that was his mother. That being said, he knew Gage was protective of Lyla even if he couldn't have her. Max saw firsthand that Gage wouldn't stop Lyla from sharing her bed with other men—he had watched the way Gage would quietly breathe while white-knuckling his drink every time Lyla left Danny's with her man _du jour_ —but he also knew that Sebastian Gage _would_ go out of his way to harm anyone that hurt her. Kyle was in deep shit.

"Sebastian, I know you're upset—"

Gage cut Max off at the start, "Do _not_ emotionally manage me, Max," he said, blue eyes flaring and voice strained, "I don't fucking need it. I know you still feel some sort of loyalty to Kyle or...whatever. But Lyla...goddamn it." His nostrils flared, "She is _mine_."

Max put his hands up in resignation; he knew the look Gage was giving him meant that the conversation was over...at least for now. So he dropped it while Gage practiced what he liked to call his "zen breathing."

Max _did_ feel a sense of loyalty to Kyle. No matter how much of an ass-hat he had been lately, Kyle was the one who clued Max in to Chloe's cheating. At the time, Kyle and Max had just met, and Kyle recognized a picture of Chloe that Max had taped to the bar. A stunned Kyle explained that his friend was dating her. Had it not been for Kyle, who knows what would have happened. In hindsight, Chloe probably would have tried to pass the baby off as his if he hadn't found out. Kyle stood by and supported Max when his life went to hell and had been by his side ever since, and Max wasn't going to give up on Kyle if he was going through a hard time now, either.

"Okay," a more relaxed Gage continued, "What happened after Kyle"—he actually snarled Kyle's name—"fucked with Lyla to the point where she left her own damn house?"

Max relayed every detail he could, from going to Janie's house to Janie having had no communication with Lyla—which, again, he mentally kicked himself for when he saw the murderous look reappear in Gage's eyes—and how broken and lost Janie had looked.

"I told her I wanted to be there for her...as a friend. But she looked at me with those eyes..." He could feel a physical reaction just from the mental picture he was drawing. He didn't verbalize the rest of the story. He didn't say that his instinct was to support and comfort her, and that is what he did. Multiple times. Those were secrets he didn't want to share, even with his best friend. As his memory began to clear, his focus shifted back to a now-smiling Gage.

"So...again, I seem to be missing the problem," Gage said, genuinely confused.

Max looked at Gage, annoyed. Was he being purposely obtuse? "Gage," Max said, raising his voice, "I can't do that again. I can't fall in love with her. I refuse."

Gage looked soberly at his best friend and said with such simplicity, "Look in the mirror, brother. It's too late. You already have."

Max grabbed his glass and downed his drink in one swallow. He was pissed at the truth Gage spoke, and anger took over reason as he glared at his friend with as heartless a grin as he could muster, "That's where you're wrong. Janie Silver and I are _just friends_ , Gage. Friends who fucked. We had our time together, and it was great, but when it was done, I left. If she can't deal, that's her problem. I haven't called her, and I haven't seen her. It was fun, and now it's over. Case closed."

"Thanks for the bulletin, Max." The sweet, sexy voice that haunted his dreams and starred in his fantasies sounded from behind him. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He didn't have to turn around to know exactly who it was, and after what he'd just said, he didn't want to, but he did.

The pain of his words were etched on her face like the names carved in the tabletop.

"We _were_ friends, Max." He flinched at her words, but she continued, "And yes, we had sex...which has now become my _biggest_ regret. So, thanks for that! And now that we've 'fucked,'" Janie said with air quotes, "you can go fuck yourself."

Max bolted to a stand, knocking over his drink, and reached out for her. Janie glared at him, her normally sparkling, teal-blue eyes flaring with anger and betrayal, and pulled her arm out of range.

"Don't you _ever_ touch me again. Do you hear me? Don't check on me, don't sit outside my apartment waiting for me to come home, and _don't_ talk to me. You're right, Max. It _was_ fun...and now it's over."

Janie turned around and stormed out of the bar.

"Fuck!" Max shouted, slamming his fist on the table, his roar silencing the once lively bar. Oblivious to the prying eyes, he stared after her, his expression shocked and appalled.

"I think that went well, no?" Gage said sheepishly.

JANIE HAD PLANNED to meet some of her co-workers at Choppers to play pool, when she saw Max and his friend—who she recognized as the only man in the world Lyla couldn't approach. Janie hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but when she heard them talking about her she couldn't help but listen. Head pressed against the steering wheel, she allowed the tears to flow. She had known her relationship with Max was going to be different after their two nights together.

"What did I think was going to happen?" she asked her empty car, before banging a fist on the wheel, "I thought I might be enough for him..."

Sobs wracked her body as she replayed Max's words, _We had our time together, and it was great, but when it was done, I left. If she can't deal, that's her problem. I haven't called her, and I haven't seen her. It was fun, and now it's over. Case closed._

His voice had been hard, his words cold. They felt like a bucket of ice water in her face.

"I am so pathetic," she said aloud. The need to call Lyla was unbearable, but she restrained. Lyla was trying to meet a deadline, on top of everything else, and the days before her books were due were always the most stressful already. The girls considered them the High Holy Days. Lyla would basically put herself in lockdown—otherwise known as her "Ho-House"—coming out only for the meals that Janie would bring. When she was in the Ho-House the only interruptions allowed were those of the life and death variety. Knowing that this was just an extreme case of bruised ego, she needed to let Lyla work. She could wait until tomorrow or the next day for Lyla, but she needed to talk to _someone_. Palming her cell phone, she started to dial.

"CHRIST, RYAN, CAN you lower the TV?" Ashley shouted as she lifted the phone receiver, "I like to hear myself come when I'm masturbating...Oh, hey, girl!"

"Yuck! Ashley, can't you have those conversations _before_ you pick up the phone?" It didn't matter how many boundaries Ashley crossed, Janie found herself loving her new friend more and more. While Lyla would always be her best friend and her sister, Janie was realizing that there were other people out there who she could depend on, as well. Ashley and Julie were two of them.

"Whatever," Ashley yelled back to someone who Janie could only assume was Ryan. "You're not so quiet yourself, Mr. Moan."

Janie laughed out loud. Yep, this was exactly the person she needed right then.

"Ash, can you focus on me for a second?" Janie giggled again, already feeling a little better.

"Sure thing, love. What's up? No, Ryan," she called, "I am not talking about you." Ashley groaned, "Jesus...self-centered much?"

"Ash, I really need to get out. I need a friend...preferably someone who will help me man-bash, and preferably with the help of alcohol." Janie was convinced that Ashley could hear the palpable need in her voice when she told her she would meet her in twenty minutes at Chopper's.

"No!" Janie practically shrieked.

"Okay, not Chopper's," Ashley said confused. "Is the Sombrero safe, or is that suddenly creepy too?"

"Chopper's isn't creepy. It's the person drinking there tonight that I find unfavorable. Sombrero it is—see you in twenty."

"THAT MOTHERFUCKER!" ASHLEY shouted over the blaring music being played at the bar. Janie sucked down her margarita sans salt, "That's it. He's getting the nut cracker!"

Ashley swallowed her tequila shot angrily, and Janie laughed at the pinched expression Ashley made when she sucked on the lime. Ashley was no lightweight when it came to drinking; the girl could drink most men under the table, a fact she boasted about frequently, especially when she was already drunk. "What is his problem?"

Janie shrugged her shoulders at what she presumed was a rhetorical question, "We'll have another round, please," she said, gesturing to the bartender.

"I mean, I know what his fucking problem is." Ashley's speech was slightly slurred, "We all do." Her gaze went from her shot glass to Janie's inquisitive eyes when her words penetrated her inebriated brain, "No, Janie, don't ask. I'm buzzed, and if you ask right now, I'll talk, and it's not my story to tell." Ashley slung back her next shot and excused herself to the ladies' room.

With Ashley away from the table, Janie used the opportunity to call Ryan. No way could Ashley get herself home safe in her drunken state.

"I'm sorry, Ryan. This was my fault, and I hate to call you, but you know Ashley, and if I suggest a cab she'll just try and drive herself home." Ryan thanked Janie and said to keep Ashley distracted until he got there to pick her up.

_Why can't all men be like Ryan_? Janie thought. _That man is protective and wonderful, and they aren't even a couple._

"Listen, Jane, honey." Janie startled, not realizing Ashley had come back from the restroom, "Max has been through emotional hell, but he hasn't coined it. You know what I mean?" Janie nodded, not really sure she understood, but wanting Ashley to finish her train of thought before Ryan arrived.

"What I'm saying is, you've also been through a lot of shit, and here you are willing to try again. If Max isn't ready, willing, or able that is _his_ problem, not yours."

_God_ , Janie thought, _no wonder I love this woman so much—she sounds a whole lot like Lyla._

"My advice, which is why you called me in the first place I'm assuming, is that you listen to the words Max is saying, not what you want them to mean. He said, 'It was fun...now it's done.' So let it be done."

"But you didn't feel what it was like when we were together... It's hard to believe that I was the only one who felt something."

"That boy has been closed up like a beach house longer than I've been around," Ashley said thoughtfully, "I think it's been something like a decade. You can't fix him, Janie. You just can't. He needs to want to open himself back up, take the dust covers off the furniture and open the windows. If at some point, he finally decides to do that, and you are still interested...well, then good for him. Otherwise, it was his opportunity to lose. Do you understand?" Janie stared at Ashley, mute with shock at how reasonable Ashley was being when so inebriated. "Words, Janie. Or at least nod your head." Ashley winked, and the smile Janie let out radiated warmth through her body.

"Seriously, Ash, that was the most profound thing I have ever heard you say. You are so not as twisted as you seem."

"Shh, don't tell anyone," Ashley whispered, "I prefer when people fear me."

Just then, Janie saw Ryan making his way into the Sombrero, an amused look on his handsome face. Ashley looked over her shoulder to follow Janie's gaze.

"Really, Janie?" Ashley asked, "There was no need to call Romeo, here. I am totally capable of getting myself home." As if trying to prove her point, Ashley stood up—and promptly lost her balance. A pair of strong, muscled arms wrapped around her waist. Large hands subtly grazed her breasts, steadying her just before her ass hit the terracotta floor.

"Yeah, Ash, you seem perfectly fine to drive." Ryan winked his thanks to Janie and led a partially embarrassed, partially annoyed Ashley out of the Sombrero. Ashley mumbled something about this being the thanks she gets for helping a friend in need, but Janie noticed that at no point did Ashley ever try to disengage from Ryan's embrace.

JANIE LAY IN her bed, replaying the night's events. So much had happened and not all of it was horrible. With heavy lids, Janie thought about what Ashley said; she might just have a point after all. It was time to start living her life, not waiting for some guy to get his shit together. She was twenty-eight years old; she had a great job, a nice apartment, Lyla, and some wonderful new friends. It was time to start enjoying what she had instead of wishing for the things she didn't have.

That night, Janie fell asleep, for the first time in her life, with a calm, quiet mind.

***

Stoopid Girls

THE NEXT DAY, Janie arrived at school early. She had gotten up before her alarm went off and spent a few extra minutes on her hair and makeup. Lyla always said you had to "fake it till you make it," so that is exactly what Janie intended to do. The first half of the day flew by, and finally she was sitting in the teacher's lounge with her lunch tray and her e-reader.

"May I join you, Ms. Silver?" A baritone voice crooned behind her. Janie jumped in surprise–– she hadn't heard anyone come in.

"Mr. Michaels, of course you may. How has the week been treating you? Any more interactions with junior high girls from Venus?" Janie asked playfully. He laughed deeply, making Janie's smile grow wider.

"They're still relentless, but I have headed your advice."

Janie listened and watched him carefully. There was something about him that intrigued her, so she spent the rest of the lunch break, and the prep period that followed lunch, in fun and friendly conversation with him.

"Okay, I will totally deny ever admitting this, but I loved that movie too." His deep, rich laugh sent a warm feeling through Janie's veins.

"I'll take it to the grave, Michaels," she said, smiling as she reached for her water bottle.

"So, Ms. Silver..." He looked deeply into her blue eyes.

"Yes, Mr. Michaels?" Janie answered breathlessly.

"I was wondering if you would have any interest in going out with me tonight?"

Janie's smile faded, "I...I'm sorry, I can't."

Before she could finish her statement, he put his hands up, embarrassment covering his face, "I'm sorry. I should have asked if you were with someone. You're beautiful, intelligent, and funny—of course you're involved. Please forgive me."

Janie could see the disappointment flash over his sexy features, and then instantly, it was gone and replaced with a mask of indifference. He moved to grab his trash when Janie placed her hand on his and leaned over to force eye contact.

"Michaels," she said softly, "I'm not with anyone...I thought maybe something was happening with someone, but it turns out I was the only one fall—"

He interrupted her thought with his own, "What an idiot."

Janie looked back at him and continued, "What I'm telling you is, yes, I would love to go out with you...I just can't tonight." She could see his face relax and his shoulders loosen.

"How about Saturday night?" He asked.

With a shy grin spreading over her lips, she replied, "I would love that."

He took her hand and studied her face, "Can I ask for one more thing?" With a smile Janie nodded. "Can we use each other's first names now? It feels dirty every time you call me Mr. Michaels."

The laughter poured out of her like water from a pitcher, "Yes, _Owen._ You can call me Janie."

"Until Saturday then, Janie." Owen squeezed her hand and left the teacher's lounge.

Janie sat there with a bloom of warmth growing in her belly. Had that really just happened? _Holy shit!_ Fuck the Ho-House, Lyla was getting a text...and so was Ashley!

_GOD, I HOPE she comes here tonight_ , Max thought to himself. Janie had been on his mind nonstop since their run-in at Chopper's two days ago, and he needed to apologize to her. She needed to know that he didn't mean any of what he said. He had tried to call her, but his calls went straight to voicemail, and his texts went unanswered. He couldn't blame her for avoiding him. Hell, he could barely look at himself in the mirror.

"Max," Danny growled after calling him into the office and closing the door behind him. "Sit down, son."

That was never a good sign, but Max had no idea what was coming. He was scrolling through his mind like a Rolodex trying to pinpoint what he could have done at work to upset Danny. He kept coming up blank.

"Um, I would rather stand, Danny," Max said, sounding like a nervous teenager.

"Sit your ass down, boy," Danny ordered, and Max sat. "Look, Max, we've known each other a long time. I like you as a person, I trust you with my business, and I love you like a son. Right?" Max nodded, and Danny patted Max on the leg, "Good, good...then take this with the love I mean when I say you are acting like a selfish ass."

Max flinched from the verbal slap.

"Since the day we met, you have been an amazing, generous man. You loved that wife of yours until it almost destroyed you. You gave to her even when you had nothing left to give. After she died, even after what she did to you, you still loved her. But you never talked about her; you just kept it inside and let it eat away at you. You worked for me and with Gage until you were physically exhausted and your hands were bleeding. We had to forcefully remove you from work. Do you remember that?"

Max had tried to block those first couple of years from his memory, but he couldn't forget how he'd been carried out of The Gage Garage when a car nearly fell on him due to his negligence when jacking it up.

"Yeah, Danny, I remember," Max said.

Danny's eyes, full of compassion, stayed trained on Max, "You have made it clear to yourself and to all of us that you don't want a relationship—"

Max interrupted, his tone defensive, "I _can't_ have a relationship, Danny. It's not about want! I cannot do it..." Max's voice trailed off as he finished his thought, "I just don't have anything left to give."

Danny slowly shook his head, "Whatever you say, Max. But here's the deal...our Janie"—Max's eyes widened at the term of endearment—"Yes, Max, our Janie is a good...no, a great person. She has dealt with too many selfish assholes to count. Don't think I can't see the way she looks at you, and frankly it insults my intelligence that you don't think I can see how you feel about her." Max inhaled, "Don't even think about interrupting me, boy," Danny growled. "Talk to her. Tell her about your past. Tell her about Chloe. For Christ's sake, she doesn't even know that you were married. Pretending that part of your life never happened doesn't mean it didn't, but if you want to continue to live your life with your head buried in the sand...well, while it pains me to watch. I can't stop you from doing it, but don't take her down with you. She doesn't deserve that; she deserves a man who will love her entirely, a man who will put her needs first. Someone that will wake up each morning knowing he is one lucky bastard because she is tucked in at his side and that same someone will show her how important she is to him each night as he lies down next to her in bed. Every hour in between waking up and going to sleep she should know that she is loved. There should never ever be a question or doubt in her mind that she is worth loving. You, Max, of all people should know how important that is."

Max sat quietly reflecting on his mentor's words.

"I know, as much as you refuse to see it, that you love her. You hurt her, and you want to apologize, and you should, but if you're going to make it clear that you guys are _just_ friends, then _be_ her friend and _only_ her friend. She will move on, and you can go back to...whatever it is that you're doing."

Max nodded gravely as Danny stood up, patted him on the shoulder, and walked out of the office.

"OKAY, OKAY, YOU got me here...kicking and screaming and against my better creative judgment, I might add, but I did leave during the High Holy Days...so this better be good." Lyla winked and smiled.

Janie was relieved that she was able to convince Lyla to leave the hotel room. After being holed up in the small space for five days she was beginning to look peaked.

"And after the stunt you pulled on me the other night with Ryan? I should be pissed! He has me washing his laundry all week. What do I look like, his fucking girlfriend?" Ashley huffed.

Simultaneously, Lyla and Janie shouted, "Yes!"

With an exasperated sigh and a roll of her eyes, Ashley flashed them both the finger.

It was Thursday night. A week had passed since Max had whispered, "sex with friends" in Janie's ear. A shiver ran through her body as she tried to push the memory out of her mind. _God, had it only been a week?_

Looking over at the bar, Max and Kyle were pouring drinks, popping bottle tops, and entertaining the customers. Their smiles were warm, and their laughter was contagious. She hadn't wanted to come to the bar tonight, but Danny made had it clear to both her and Lyla that he would take it personally if they didn't show up for their Thursday night routine.

"I refuse to let those dipshits ruin a good thing," Danny said with authority, "You come here, and I'll make sure that neither of you need to go to the bar to get your drinks. Deal?"

Reluctantly, the girls agreed.

So, there they sat; Janie and Lyla with their cocktails, and Ashley with her bourbon on the rocks on her night off.

Danny's was packed with its usual crowd of patrons, ranging from business to biker and everyone in between. It was standing-room-only at the mahogany bar where the bar bunnies licked their lips, fluffed their hair, and lifted their tits just to get the attention of the "Sextenders" of the night, Max and Kyle.

"So, spill," Lyla said.

"Geez, Ly, you're giving us a complex. Is it that awful to be around us?" Janie was only partially joking as she waiting for Lyla's answer.

Taking Janie's hand in hers, she looked from Janie to Ashley, "I'm sorry, girls, it's just...I still wanna punch Kyle in the face. I'm moving in two days, and I haven't finished my...uh...column."

Janie stilled, catching Lyla's almost slip. If Ashley caught onto it she let it go without question, latching onto the other new bit of information Lyla shared.

"Lyla! What do you mean you're moving in two days? I love your home! Why are you moving? And, oh my God, why haven't you told anyone? Janie...what the hell is wrong with you?"

Feeling the subtle squeeze Lyla gave her hand, Janie knew Lyla would handle all questions related to this topic.

"First of all, Ash, don't get all pissy with Janie. My moving is _my_ business. You should be happy to know that our girl here is a vault—the things you share with her go nowhere else. Next, I'm moving because my _house_ "—Lyla emphasized the word _house_ and not _home_ —"stopped working for me recently. So I decided it was time to move on." Raising her glass, she added, "I'm moving a block closer to here, not farther...so cheers." The women clinked their glasses and took a uniform sip, "And finally, do you really need to ask why I haven't shared this information? Honestly, Ash, have you just met me?"

The three girls laughed out loud, and Ashley waived her arm, signaling to the new waitress to bring them another round.

"So, who's the new chickie?" Janie nodded her head in the direction of the waitress.

Ashley smiled wickedly, "That's Britney. Poor girl started working the day shift last week. I think her only reason for being here is to look at Kyle."

Lyla rolled her eyes, "I can't say I blame her, but does she have any idea what she's getting into?"

Ashley giggled, "I tried to warn her but..." Ashley paused, and in a fake, high-pitched nasally voice said, "I know what I'm doing. He really _is_ misunderstood. He _just_ needs a nice girl to turn him around."

They all burst out laughing, a couple of snorts escaping. Pulling on serious faces as Britney came over with their drinks, the girls sat quietly, holding their breath. But as soon as the waitress turned her back to the table, all three found themselves hysterical once again.

"What are you three up to?" Julie asked in her practiced motherly tone.

"You know, that voice doesn't sound scary when you're smiling," Lyla said innocently.

Once filled in on the cause of the laughter, Julie tried to scold their behavior but only ended up laughing as well. Ashley took Julie's distraction as an opportunity to disappear for a moment, but her whereabouts were quickly uncovered when she came back to the table with a round of shots for the four ladies.

"To _stoopid_ girls!" Ashley raised her glass.

"To _stoopid_ girls," they all repeated before they knocked back their shots.

"I'M SORRY, HONEY, I didn't catch that." Max tried to listen to the overeager woman sitting with her breasts on display at the bar. The woman leaned over the counter, creating a deeper valley in which to catch a roving eye.

"I said, I'd like a Sex on the Beach," the woman purred.

That's what he thought she said, but he had to make sure. Why he was still surprised when women acted this way, he didn't understand. He had been working at Danny's for about ten years and very little had changed in the way of women, truth be told. They wanted what they wanted, and they weren't afraid to ask for it. If he were being honest, that had always worked out great for him. Sex without strings helped him lead the uncomplicated life he was determined to live, until a certain aqua-eyed brunette walked into his bar and fucked up his quest for solitude.

"You got it, sugar," Max said with a smooth smile and a wink, sure to get him a tip—and probably an unsolicited phone number. The former was great; the latter would end up in the trash.

Shaking the cocktail, he looked to Janie's table again. He couldn't believe she actually showed up after what he said...after what he did. The need to make things right between them consumed his thoughts. He had picked up the phone to call her several times over the past few days, but he knew she would either hang up on him or just not answer. He needed to get her face-to-face.

So, for the past two hours, he watched Janie. His eyes followed her fingers as she wiped away the condensation that dripped down the side of her glass. His chest tightened when he saw her smile and laugh with Lyla, Julie, and Ashley. He glared when men would approach their table and start up conversation, so when Ms. "Sex on the Beach" leaned her huge breasts back over the bar and whispered what she would like to do to Max on a beach, he gave her a wolfish grin and nodded his head. Could she help him forget about Janie for a little while?

"OH MY GOD!" Janie had been watching Max play his games for months - she knew what that grin and nod meant. Feelings of hurt, anger, and most of all, jealousy whipped around in her body, like gale-force winds during a hurricane.

"What's the matter Jane?" Lyla asked with concern.

"Max just used his patented 'grin and nod' with the red-headed booby girl at the bar!" Janie's voice was tight, and Lyla knew that tears were imminent. She quickly shot a glance to Ashley, happy to see that the girl was clued into Janie's emotional state as well.

"That fucker." Ashley nudged the drink in Janie's direction.

"Jane, you never told us what was so important that you _made_ me come out tonight." Lyla feigned irritation, trying to take Janie's mind off Max and his walking, talking life preserver.

"Oh, yeah." Her eyes still on Max, Janie gulped her drink and then turned her attention to her friends. She could feel a smile slowly spreading over her face.

"Really?!" Lyla exclaimed.

Ashley looked at first surprised and then annoyed, "Okay, girls, I realize you've known each other forever, but this Spidey sense you two share, while fascinating, is completely frustrating when you're on the outside."

"Oh, honey, you are not on the outside. As far as I'm concerned, you have stepped in and been a great friend to Janie when I haven't been able to be there. You are absolutely one of us."

Janie could see the emotion play out in Ashley's face. Acceptance was a beautiful thing. "Then share the juicy news, Jane!"

"So, there's this new algebra teacher at school. He is handsome and smart." Janie inhaled, her smile growing as she described Owen Michaels, "His eyes are like melted chocolate kisses and his hair is in caramel ringlets, but short and cropped."

"Christ, Janie, you make him sound like a sundae," Lyla laughed.

"Like I said, he's new to the school this year, and all of the girls are falling over themselves to get his attention. The sweet thing is their attention seems to unnerve him. We had lunch together, and we laughed, and then he asked me out, and I said no."

Lyla and Ashley were leaning into the table, totally entranced in every word Janie was saying until she spoke the word _no._

"What? Why?" They both asked in unison, slapping their hands on the table.

Janie giggled, "Because it's Thursday night. On Thursday nights, Lyla and I come here. No dates on Thursday nights."

Ashley raised her arm to get Brittney's attention, and more shots were delivered within minutes.

"To Thursday nights!"

"So, when are you going out with the teacher?" Lyla questioned.

"Saturday night," Janie replied, "It's a little surprising—I'm really excited to go out with him. I mean, he really is gorgeous, but—" Her eyes drifted to Max, who was serving his customers and having his ego stroked by Big Red.

"I'm sure that's not the only thing she'll be stroking by the end of the night," Janie mumbled.

"Janie?" Ashley said with a raised brow.

"Oh, did I say that out loud?"

"You're beginning to catch that from me, huh?" Lyla joked, "Look, Jane, I know you've had a thing for Max for months. To be honest, I was kind of hoping it would happen for you, but it didn't. This new guy...Owen, right? He sounds cute, he makes you smile and your eyes sparkle. Why don't we focus on him for a little while?"

"You know what? You're right. I'm gonna go out with him on Saturday night and see where it goes," Janie said decidedly.

Ashley lifted her glass, "To Saturday night."

"To Saturday night!"

"HEY, MAN. WHAT happened with you and Kyle tonight? He looked like he was ready to shit himself when he came in to start his shift, and when I asked him if he was okay his only answer was, 'Just a thing with Gage,'" Max said in his best Kyle impression.

Max watched as Gage swirled his scotch. _Hmm, the conversation must have been pretty intense for him to be drinking scotch instead of beer on a Thursday._

"Let's just say I delivered a message to your boy. As you can see by the lack of broken bones, I delivered it nicely because I care about you and your loyalties, blah, blah, blah. But that was his one and only fuck-up, Max, and that is what I told him. I explained"—at the word explained, Gage's eyes sparkled, clueing Max into the fact that _explained_ was probably more like _threatened_ —"that if he ever caused her pain again...I think my exact line was 'I will show you a hurt that you have only seen in movies.'"

It was hard not to smile at the very large, very dimpled grin that was spreading across Gage's face, "Nice, Sebastian. You sound like a fucking mobster."

With all of the laughter gone and replaced with seriousness, Gage looked at Max, "I'm not kidding, man. I can't have her yet, but she already owns me. I'm not gonna let some careless, junkie asshole hurt her."

Max nodded and topped off the now empty glass of scotch before moving on to his next customer.

LYLA'S SKIN TINGLED. Her eyes had yet to see him, but her body could feel his presence. He was watching her, and that thought sent warmth through her body, straight down to her core.

"What's the matter, Ly? You just shivered, are you cold?" Lyla picked up on the hint of sarcasm in Ashley's question. There was no way her friend could interpret the heated reaction she had just had for one of chill.

"I'm fine." Lyla casually turned her head to search the bar for the sexy, whisky-voiced man who managed to turn her on, drive her mad, and disappear all in a matter of minutes last week. She hadn't seen or heard from him since last Thursday night, not that she had expected to, but there was a part of her that felt...something. She just didn't have the word to describe it.

She hadn't allowed herself to look in that direction all evening for two reasons—the first being Kyle, and the second, Max. But now, as if a magnetic charge was pulling her eyes in that direction, she knew exactly who she would find.

"Gage," Lyla whispered. The rest of the bar fell away as Lyla's vision tunneled in on him. She stared at the tall, painfully beautiful, and sinfully sexy man standing in the corner by the bar. His sapphire eyes burned through her skin, and he lifted his drink, arched his eyebrow, and gave her a dimpled half-grin.

Lyla could hear her heart beating and her blood flowing but couldn't hear Ashley speaking directly to her.

"Um, Ly?" Ashley tapped her on the shoulder.

Lyla instantly pulled out of her trance and looked at Ashley, "I'm sorry, did you say something?"

Ashley and Janie broke into laughter. "Yeah, we said a bunch of things. So I guess you've formally met Sebastian?" Ashley asked.

"Sebastian?" Lyla's brows furrowed with confusion.

Ashley looked just as perplexed, and then understanding swept in, "Uh...Gage. His name is Sebastian Gage."

"Huh," Lyla said. _A hot, sexy name for a hot, sexy man_.

"Ly, you know you said that out loud, right?" Janie giggled.

"Fuck..." Lyla took another sip of her drink.

"That was the guy who was at Chopper's with Max the night I overheard them talking about me. It's funny, even though I was pissed off with Max, I couldn't help but notice...he's hot, Ly."

Ashley joined in, "He's hot, wild, and protective, but I have _never_ seen him with a girlfriend. I've never actually asked, but being a bartender is like being a therapist," she snickered, "I've heard he doesn't do commitment. He tells the women he dates straight from the start so there are never mixed messages."

"What is it with those two?" Janie blurted out, "Jesus, so they're just about quick and easy...pun intended. Never more?"

Ashley shook her head, "Sorry, honey. They call it 'Fuck and Release.'"

Lyla made sure her mouth was closed as she let her memory wonder. F and R...that's what he was talking about. _Huh..._ Well, _that_ she would have given him! But he seemed like he was interested in far more than a quick fuck.

You deserve a man who is going to worship your body, but also your heart and I am going to be that man.

There she couldn't—she wouldn't—go. But it doesn't hurt to look. When she turned around to find the object of her lust, he was gone. _Shit,_ thought Lyla.

"I CALLED CABS for you lovely ladies," Julie informed Janie, Lyla, and Ashley.

"Ash, where's Ryan? Isn't he your chauffeur?" Janie teased.

"He's on a date with one of his groupie sluts," Ashley answered with bite.

Lyla with a hand on her chest, faking surprise that she actually did feel said, "He dates?"

"I keep telling you guys—we are not a couple. We live together, but we don't date each other. We date _other people_." Ashley looked shy and something else that Janie couldn't recognize. Was it sadness? Longing?

"So...do you date?" Lyla questioned.

"Yes, I date! Fuck you, Lyla! If you're gonna keep your goodies to yourself, I'm keeping mine to myself!"

Lyla smiled, "Oookay."

"So, Sunday dinner is at my house," Janie said, "Julie, can you spread the word? I'm not sure who will show up since, between the two of us, we aren't talking to half of the group, but everyone is still invited. Whoever shows...shows, and whoever doesn't...doesn't." Julie winked at her and headed back to her office.

Lyla pushed to a stand, "I'm gonna hit the little girls' room before I head home. Can you tell my cab to wait for me a minute? Tell him he'll be well compensated." Lyla wagged her eyebrows and laughed heartily at her own silliness.

With matching snorts as affirmations, the other two women nodded, "We'll just wait for you...No woman left behind, remember?"

"I WISH TO hell I never took that first taste of your mouth, because even though I can't give you everything I want to give, everything you deserve to have..."

Lyla had stopped stone-still the minute she heard his first word. In the dim light of the pool room, she didn't see his face yet, but his scent caressed her skin—cedar, leather, Gage. She inhaled deeply, his words burrowing into her soul.

"I can't stop myself from thinking about your mouth," he said, stepping out into the muted light and staring at her plump, red lips. She now saw his whisker-roughened jaw and his jet-black hair falling just over his brow as his eyes continued to gaze at her mouth. "I want it. Christ, I'm a greedy son-of-a—"

Before he could finish his statement, he pulled her up against his hard chest and crushed his mouth to hers. Lyla's body reacted immediately by melting into his. Her hands wrapped around his neck, her fingers running through his soft black hair.

Gage could feel her warmth radiating from her skin through her clothes. His hand snaked down her spine, while the other held onto the base of her neck. He controlled the kiss, even though he had lost control of his body.

" _Ahem_. Sorry, kids. Didn't know anyone was in here." Danny turned around and left the room.

LYLA CAME BACK from the bathroom with a dazed look on her face.

"You okay, Ly?" Janie didn't press for more when Lyla said she was fine.

Max watched the three women leave Danny's and head out into the warm September night air; watched Janie, with her arm draped over Lyla's shoulder, whispering something that was apparently funny in her ear. She was so beautiful, and so kind, so soft...if only...

THE BAR WAS cleaned and closed, and everyone had left. It was three in the morning, and exhaustion rolled through Max's body like a thick fog in the early morning harbor. His mind was blissfully numb from a long night of work, and the only thing he wanted was to fall into his bed.

"Hello, handsome," said a slightly familiar voice from behind him.

Max turned to find the redhead from earlier standing about a foot behind him.

"Remember, Sex on the Beach?" She prompted in her cigarette-scarred voice.

Max smiled tightly. He remembered. Girls like Big Red were all the same. They thought if they showed you what was under the hood, you would buy the car. Max wasn't interested.

"Nice to see you again..." He couldn't remember her name, and he didn't care to ask for it.

"Bambi."

Max grinned on the outside while laughing hysterically on the inside. _Of course_ , he thought to himself. _What else would it be?_

"Well, goodnight, Bambi," Max said.

She stalked closer to him, the gritting of her stilettos on the concrete echoing in the stillness of the night. She stood close to eye level with him; he had to admit that she really was an attractive woman.

"Max," she said, in what must have been her sexy voice, "You look like you could use a little attention."

"To be honest with you, Bambi," Max said, trying to keep a straight face while saying her name out loud, "I am bone tired. I'm gonna go home and get some sleep. It was nice to meet you."

She was not getting the hint, though, or maybe Bambi had her own selfish needs she wanted fulfilled. Either way, she went on. "Max, honey, why don't you take a load off and let me take a load in?"

Max blinked. He was actually stupefied by the woman's boldness. He surprised even himself when he asked, "What do you have in mind?"

She smiled a perfectly white smile and pointed to Max's car door. Thoughtlessly, he opened it and helped her up into the Jeep. He walked around to the driver's side and climbed in, it was an act that had played out so many times before with so many nameless, faceless women. It was a way for him to satisfy his body but never have to give anything more.

She all but purred as she pressed her double-Ds up against Max's side, "I know what you're willing to give, Max," she whispered, "And it's exactly what I need." She rubbed her small hand up the length of his hardening cock and moaned.

"This is what I want. Can I have it just for tonight?"

His mind drifted to the beautiful, dark-haired, fair-skinned angel he kept locked out of his heart, and he immediately shut down his thoughts _. I can do this,_ he thought. _It's just physical. Just a distraction._ Max's breaths were shallow as he tried to think about the impending release.

Taking his silence as acceptance, Bambi had his jeans unbuttoned and unzipped in record time. The fire in her eyes matched the color of her hair as she reached her hand into Max's boxer briefs. The minute her warm fingers wrapped around Max's erection, he felt a chill take over his body. This wasn't right; this wasn't the woman he longed to have curled up against him. Her perfume was overpowering in the confines of his Jeep, her fingernails were too long. Her touch didn't hold the familiar tenderness that had been branded into his memory, and her skin felt all wrong. She wasn't Janie.

"Fuck," he groaned. Bambi misread his expletive and leaned down, ready to place her mouth around him. Max was finding it difficult to breathe, "Stop," he gasped.

When Bambi didn't heed his request, Max began to panic, "Bambi, _stop_. This isn't right. You have got to stop." He pulled himself back at the same time he pushed her away, hearing a shocked breath escape the woman's mouth. The redheaded vixen watched as he buttoned his jeans with trembling fingers and then lifted her face to meet his, eye to eye.

"What's going on, Max?" Her eyes were soft and sincere, "I came here tonight for exactly what we're doing. It's no secret that you're the man to go to for this...kind of thing...you know, no strings attached. Women talk. That's what I'm offering. So what's the problem?"

Max could see the embarrassment blooming in the woman's eyes. She was right—she did come to the right guy. But there was a problem, a big problem. Well, not quite big and not quite a problem, but there was a five-foot-two-inch woman who was overtaking his mind, and if he was being honest with himself, his heart. He just couldn't go through with having another meaningless fling after experiencing what could only be described as heaven with Janie. He may not be able to give her his heart, but he couldn't give anyone else his body.

"I...I just can't do this anymore," he said suddenly, "Not with you, not with anyone. I just can't. I know I led you on, and I'm sorry about that, but this isn't going to happen." He couldn't stop or hide the trembling in his voice.

A smile that showcased her beautiful white teeth also enhanced a deep awareness in Bambi's eyes that Max hadn't noticed before.

"You finally found her." It wasn't a question, so Max didn't answer, "I don't know your story, but I know the type. You've gone through your hell, Max. It's time to reach for happiness. Clearly, you're ready for it, but here's some advice. If there is ever a next time, don't let it go so far. Most women don't like to know that another woman was touching their man." With that parting shot, Bambi opened the door and slid out of Max's Jeep.

"Let me walk you to your car...Bambi."

With a smile, she nodded her acceptance, "My name isn't really Bambi, you know. That was just the first name that came to my head when you asked."

Max laughed, opened the door to her beat-up, early-90s sedan, and waited for her to put on her seatbelt before closing it.

"Thank you for...well...everything. I obviously have a lot to work out, and I'm sorry that you got caught up in my bullshit."

"We all have our bullshit, Max, but I hope you figure yours out." Max could hear the sadness coming from her statement but let it go.

"Drive safely." He stood in the darkened parking lot watching as her taillights disappeared into the night.

***

Those Two

"YOU LOOK LIKE you could use this." The coffee wasn't Starbucks, but Janie was grateful for it nonetheless.

"Thanks, Owen. Do I look that bad?" She winced, adding a large amount of creamer and sweetener to the black coffee.

Taking a second, to what Janie assumed was prepare a kind answer, Owen smiled. "I wouldn't say _bad_ ...I would just say that you had a really good time last night."

"Owen, you should have been a politician instead of an algebra teacher." She laughed and took a sip of her coffee.

They spent the rest of their lunch break engaged in witty banter and pleasant conversation. Janie felt relaxed when Owen was around. _Hmm_ , she thought. _Interesting._

"So, are we still on for tomorrow night?" Owen's chocolate eyes looked excited.

"Unless you're bailing on me," Janie teased.

"Not a chance." Owen leaned over and placed a light kiss on the top of Janie's head before leaving the teacher's lounge.

Wait. Did that just happen?

EARLY SATURDAY MORNING Janie was alone, packing up the personal items that were on Lyla's list. How Lyla could find a new house and set up the move in under a week's time amazed her. It had only been three days since she had requested Janie's help in packing up "the important stuff," yet it felt like weeks ago. Regardless, the boxes would all be packed in her car and taken to Lyla's new house today. There were certain things Lyla trusted with nobody except for Janie, and it was a job she took seriously.

The windows were open, and the fresh autumn air filled the house. The cool breeze helped to alleviate the weight that was threatening to crush Janie's chest as she looked around the small cottage. They had been so excited the day Lyla bought the house. They had walked around with bright eyes and high hopes. After so many false starts and not-quite-ready's two years ago, Lyla had finally found a place that made her feel safe. This small house was like a treasure to Janie, giving her best friend a sense of home that she herself had not been able to give to her. With Lyla finally being settled, Janie allowed herself to start planting roots of her own.

Charistown was the perfect place to live, it had the small-town feel but with all of the amenities of a large city. She'd found a job in a great school, and Lyla was able to write more. Yes, her dating-life sucked, but it seemed as if she found the losers in every town they lived in, so she wasn't going to hold her poor choices against where they lived. There was something special about this town, and this cottage, something that felt warm and healthy. Janie knew Lyla felt the need to leave it, but it was still weighing on Janie.

She had yet to see the new house; she feared that it would be a small, dark place with the mood Lyla'd adopted. In the past, when Lyla went into a dark place, she would live in one as well. _Not this time_ , Janie thought to herself. _If her house is a dump I won't even let the truck unload. I will just force her to find a new place. I am done letting her run._

The thought gave Janie a pause—she had never, ever stood up to Lyla's fears like that before; not even in her own head.

"Seriously, Janie, I see you in there." Kyle was looking in the window, brows drawn in and mouth turned down, "Are you really going to pretend you don't hear me?" When Janie looked at Kyle, he saw actual surprise on her face, "You really didn't hear me knocking, did you?" He asked.

"No, Kyle, I didn't. But frankly, I wouldn't have opened the door had I known it was you anyway." Janie pulled her hair back into a low ponytail and waited for him to leave.

"Look, Jane, I deserve that, I do," Kyle started as he looked around the house through the window, "But I really need to talk to Lyla. Is she home?"

Janie glared at him, virtual daggers shooting out of her eyes. "Gee, do ya think? You are such an asshole, Kyle."

"I know. I am an asshole and a shithead and a jerk—"

"I'm not going to stop you, so please keep going," Janie spat as she opened the door for him to come in.

"I didn't mean the things I said to Lyla. I...I was in a bad place...I'm still in a bad place. I just––"

"That's just it," Janie said, trying to reign in her anger, "Every sentence that comes out of your mouth starts with _I_. What you didn't take the time to think about, and what you still haven't noticed, is that it's not all about _you_!" Janie crossed her arms over her chest, "Your words destroyed her. Look around, Kyle. She isn't here! She isn't coming back." Janie pulled in a deep breath and turned away from a visibly shaken Kyle. "The movers are coming at two, and I have a lot to do. So if you don't mind, get the hell out of here."

Janie walked down the hallway and into the back bedroom, closing the door behind her. She heard his footfalls as he walked around the main room for a moment, and then the door closed. After a few minutes, Janie started to pack again.

"YOU KNEW THAT she was moving and you didn't think to tell us?" Ryan growled at Ashley with more accusation than question in his tone, "You're becoming more and more like _those two_ every fucking day."

Ashley slammed her hands on the table as Max watched the two of them argue.

"They're like an old married couple," he stage-whispered to Kyle, who had rushed to Ashley and Ryan's house with the news of Lyla's move.

"Good!" she snapped at the three overbearing men, " _Those two_ , as you call them, have become the best girlfriends I have ever had. They've let me in and accepted me. They don't ask too many questions, and they sure as hell don't punish me when I don't give answers. They trust me! And if you idiots think I'm gonna do anything to break their trust, then you guys are the ones with the problem."

Ashley pushed her feet into her Converse and headed for the door, "By the way, Kyle, you ass, I wouldn't have been hiding her move if you would have never opened your big fucking trap in the first place. Keep the blame where it belongs...with you!" Ashley slammed the door behind her and headed over to Clinton Street to help Lyla unpack her things in her new house.

Max couldn't help smirking, "You two are the poster people for healthy communication."

"Screw you, Max. How's that relationship with Janie going? Does she know that you were married before and that you had your heart ripped out by your cheating whore of a wife? And that's why you won't give her more than a fuck and forget-about-ya?"

"Fuck you," Max growled, barreling into Ryan and throwing him to the floor.

Each man got in one hard jab before Kyle pulled Max off Ryan. Wiping the blood from his lip, Ryan looked sadly at Max.

"Sorry, man. That was totally out of line. You know how things are with me and Ash.... I took it out on you, and I shouldn't have. I get you, Max, I do. I'm sorry, buddy."

"No, I lost my head, and then I lost my shit." Max grabbed a paper towel to wipe at the blood coming out of his nose, "Apology accepted. I'm sorry I attacked you like that—"

"Enough of the girly apology shit. Everyone is sorry, including me," Kyle interrupted. "Now let's be men and drink beer." Kyle pulled three beers out of the refrigerator and handed them to his friends.

Max looked ever at Ryan's split lip and grimaced. _What the hell is wrong with me?_

OVERWHELMED, JANIE JUST stared at the house in front of her. She rechecked the address Lyla had texted hours earlier with the one on the mailbox. Her eyes began to sting with tears, and her chest felt tight. This was not what she had been expecting. This was not a dark, gloomy hole. It was a large, bright-white house with black shutters. Janie looked at the rose bushes and the flagstone walkway and realized Lyla wasn't hiding this time—she was starting over.

"Jane! You gonna stand out there like a freaky stalker all day, or are you gonna get your ass in here so I can show you around?"

Janie felt her chest expand as she took in Lyla's smile, even though the smile didn't quite reach her eyes, she looked happy nonetheless.

Janie followed Lyla's fake-it-till-you-make-it mentality again, "Coming, Ly!" She shouted from the street.

Lyla laughed, "That's what he said," she tossed over her shoulder. Both girls broke out into fits of giggles, "Come on, I'll give you the tour."

The house was perfect—freshly painted and well maintained. It was an old American Foursquare-style house, nestled between other similar, but not exactly the same, homes. It was two-and-a-half stories with what must've once been four bedrooms. The master was spacious but not too big and had an en suite bathroom. The other two bedrooms were slightly smaller, but the previous owners must have used the fourth bedroom to make the other bedrooms larger.

One of the spares would be Lyla's Ho-House, and the other would be a guest room—more than likely, Janie's room away from home. The kitchen had been recently updated, too, and the dining room could easily fit the whole group for Sunday dinner. Janie noticed that there weren't as many windows as there had been in the cottage, and she was certain that was intentional. Lyla needed to pull away somehow; this was how she would do it.

The girls sat cross-legged on the plush area rug that covered the hardwood floor in the large, furnished family room, sipping on their coffees.

"Ly, I love it!" Janie said, overwhelmed by emotion, "And I hate to ask..." She hesitated, "But where are you going to put your stuff from—"

The familiar look of pain quickly passed over Lyla's face before she was able to bank it completely. "This place has a full basement. It's creepy, just like the shit that's gonna go down there." Lyla answered the question in as few words as possible, but Janie heard everything she needed to hear.

The moving truck had already made its appearance, and the furniture was placed just so. Unpacking was in full swing as Pink's new album blared from the MP3 speakers. By the time Lyla heard the bell and opened the door, Ashley was visibly frustrated.

"It's about time! I thought Pink was actually in here giving a concert, and I wasn't invited." She winked and walked right into the house.

"Wow, Ly. Just wow. This is some amazing place..."

"Thank you." Lyla's mouth smiled, but something sad always lived in her eyes, "I really like it. It's a really nice house."

Janie stilled at Lyla's comment. Would she ever come to see this beautiful place as more than just a house? _Oh, Lyla_ , Janie thought, _what am I going to do with you?_

"Janie, get out." Lyla's words were said with a serious tone, but her face was glowing with humor.

"That is so mean, Lyla." Janie faked being wounded, "How can you be such a heartless wench?"

Ashley looked completely lost. Lyla laughed and reminded Ashley that Janie's date with the teacher was that evening.

"Oh, right...seriously, Jane, Lyla's right." Ashley looked at Janie from head to toe and then said, "You may want to think about a long shower and some fresh clothes. Just sayin'."

Janie looked in the newly hung mirror and winced, "Shit! I should just cancel. You need help unpacking, and clearly I need help...period."

"Um, I'm standing right here." Ashley snorted, "I think I can manage helping Lyla unpack. Go home and get ready. No canceling. Have fun!"

Janie shot a quick look at Lyla and she nodded. With quick hugs, Janie headed home.

_If Owen saw me now, he would be the one cancelling_ , she giggled to herself.

"THIS PLACE IS great, Owen. I can't believe I've never been here."

"I know. It's really small, but the food is awesome. The wait to get a reservation is usually about five weeks out." His eyes dropped from Janie's face when he realized what he had just inadvertently admitted.

The warm feeling that was becoming synonymous with Owen began to spread through Janie's stomach as her curiosity peaked, "Then how are we sitting here right now? You just asked me out this week."

Warm eyes lifted to meet hers, "I went to high school with the owner. We were pretty tight before I moved away, but we've stayed in touch over the years." A sexy smile curved over his mouth, "I've never called in a favor before, so I guess he thought it was pretty important... and here we are."

Janie noticed a slight tremble in his hand as he brought his wine glass to his lips.

This guy was not only sexy and funny but sweet, too. _Hmm_ , she thought, sipping her Cosmo. The night kept on smoothly, and Janie found herself getting lost in Owen's deep voice and devastatingly handsome good looks.

"Owen, where did you say you were from again?" She asked him.

"I'm from here actually. I went to Charistown High School. I left for college after I graduated and, other than quick family visits, never came back. I'm here now because my dad was diagnosed with cancer, so I'm trying to help my mom with his care and whatever else she needs."

_And he's thoughtful...this guy is the real deal_. Just as quickly as the thought came into her head, a second one followed. Wait, Owen was about nine years older than her, he went to the same high school as Max...did they know each other? _No, Janie...keep Max out of this_ , she chided herself. _There is no place for him on this date._

"...you from?"

"I'm so sorry, I totally spaced out for a second. What did you ask?"

"I hope I'm not boring you," he said with a sweet, self-deprecating smile, "I just asked where you were from."

Their conversation meandered pleasantly through the rest of dinner and dessert. Janie found being with Owen easy and comfortable. They talked about their students and their friends, and they laughed over some shared silliness. The conversation flowed like water.

When the meal was over, they walked from the restaurant back to her apartment building. They stopped outside her door, and Janie's heart began to pound with anxiety and anticipation. Owen's deep brown gaze traveled down to her lips.

"May I kiss you, Janie?" His hand stroked her jaw as his thumb slightly brushed her bottom lip. She felt lost in his cocoa stare as she slowly nodded her head.

***

Greek Yogurt

JANIE WAS GRATEFUL she remembered to close her curtains before going to bed the night before. Keeping the sun out was the only way she would have been able to get the extra couple hours of sleep that she would need to get her through the day. Sunday dinner would be...interesting, and she needed all the rest she could get.

She'd gotten home late from her date and then spent over an hour lying between the cool sheets thinking about Owen. He seemed so open and honest; if she asked a question, he answered it. Yes, it had been a first date so they didn't grill each other, but by the time he paid the check— _yes_! She giggled. He _paid the check_ —she'd felt like she knew who she had spent her evening with. And then there was the kiss...that's where her mind had spent the most time. It was lovely and sweet and tender. Just like man himself. She'd drifted off to sleep thinking about that kiss; a deep, dreamless sleep.

When her alarm went off, she unkindly told it to shut up by yanking the plug out of the wall. By ten o'clock she was finally dressed and caffeinated, and heading to the food market. She had a lot to do before everyone came over.

As she drove to the grocery store, Owen was still on her mind, one particular conversation playing over and over again in her memory.

I was kind of a jerk in high school. Some would say I was a typical teenage guy...looking back, I think I was an asshole. Back then it was about taking what I wanted and not giving a damn about who got hurt in the process. I learned exactly how it felt to be on the receiving end in that game, my freshman year of college, and it made me grow up pretty damn fast. If I could go back, I would in a heartbeat...but some things are better left in the past.

She had reached out and placed her hand on his when he'd finished, and she could see in his eyes how much the small gesture had meant. There was something so honest and sincere about Owen. He was someone who was willing to open up, someone who had clearly made mistakes but was ready to move on.

Janie heard a loud pop as her car jolted and swerved, bringing her out of last night's conversation and into the present. She gripped the steering wheel in an attempt to control the car and pulled into the lot of Mark's Market.

"Shit! Goddamn it," she yelled while she got out of her car to assess the damage. After a quick phone call to notify AAA, she was told to wait by her car for a return call. _Where the hell else would I go?_ She thought.

"Great..." She tried to keep the irritation from her voice when the guy on the phone called back. It would take over an hour for someone from Ted's Towing to arrive to change her tire. All Janie could think was, _Son of a bitch, I should have stayed in bed!_

"WHAT'S UP, GAGE?" Max said when he answered the phone. Today was one of the rare days when Max had nothing to do until dinner. He was lounging around shirtless in ratty old sweatpants, had a load of laundry in the washer and one in the dryer, and was sprawled out on his big, leather sofa, channel-surfing. He felt like a king...no, he felt like a loser.

"I just got a call from Ted's," Gage stated, "Apparently, there's a lady with a flat tire over in the lot at Mark's Market on Main Street. It will be at least two hours before they can get to her, and with the rain coming, they didn't want the poor woman stuck out there." Gage paused and then continued, "So they asked if we could lend a hand. I told them I would go, but I need to go to the track. Can you do me a favor, please? I'll owe you one."

Max laughed, "Sure, man, no problem. I'll head over there right now and change the tire."

They disconnected the call. _I was bored anyway_.

"THAT SON OF a bitch..." Max cursed Gage under his breath as he pulled into the parking lot. He would recognize that red Jetta anywhere, and there was no way in hell that Gage _had_ to go to Winston's instead of changing this woman's tire. This reeked of a set-up.

_What are you trying to pull?_ He text Gage as he got out of his truck and walked over to the _lady_ with the flat tire. The sky was filled with dark, pregnant clouds, and the air was heavy with moisture. There was no doubt the rain was coming—the question was who was faster, him or the heavens?

He could hear the music blaring from her car. It was a wonder that she and Lyla weren't deaf from how loud they listened to their music. He felt the corners of his mouth lift slightly as he approached. This woman just had that effect on him.

Max tapped on Janie's window, and she started, her eyes round and a muffled squeak escaping from inside her car. She rolled down the windows and quickly turned off the music,

"Max?" She asked, surprised but trying to keep some hint of anger in her voice, "What are _you_ doing here?"

The golden flecks in Janie's teal eyes were warm and inviting, and they caught Max off guard. He still hadn't apologized to her, and he owed her at least that much. He stared into the pools of blue, "Well, babe, it seems as though your flat"—in that second Max remembered having Janie's full breasts in his hands, and knowing full well she was anything but flat, he mentally kicked himself—"I'm gonna jack you up and replace your tire."

"Don't call me babe, you jerk!" Her eyes were filled with irritation but also a small amount of humor. That, right there, was one of the things that made her so damn special. He had been such an ass to her, yet she was still able to forgive him even if she wouldn't admit it.

Max realized what he said and laughed, "Cut me some slack, Janie. You know being around you can short-circuit my brain. Let me fix your tire. Do you have a spare?"

"Yeah, in the back." She pointed to the trunk, "Thanks..."

Max nodded, gathered his tools from his Jeep, and returned to the Jetta to start working.

"So, how did you get stuck with this task?" Janie wondered aloud.

"My buddy Sebastian owns Gage Garage. Tom's couldn't get here for two hours, so they called him. He asked me for a favor."

"I would've been fine waiting the two hours for Tom's...but at least it makes sense now," she snipped, sharpness in her voice and what appeared to be sadness in her eyes.

"What makes sense?" He growled.

"You didn't know it was me. That's why you came here to help." The way Janie tried to mask the hurt in her expression nearly made Max want to howl with anger—and something else; there was a nameless emotion that he didn't have the time to figure out.

"No, Janie," Max practically snapped, "Had I known it was you, I would have gotten here faster."

As if to punctuate his statement, a crash of thunder hit the atmosphere, making Janie jump. With the flat tire off the car and lying on the ground, Max reached into Janie's trunk and pulled out the spare. The sky opened up, and the rain started pouring down in sheets.

"Get in the car, Janie. You're getting soaked," Max called over his shoulder as he was putting the new tire in place. Just then the rain stopped, "Well, that was fas—" Okay, so the rain hadn't stopped—instead, Janie was standing over his partially soaked body holding an umbrella.

Max felt a lump in his throat so big he could barely swallow. _She is shielding me from the rain_. A memory flashed through him like lightning. He and Chloe were on their way home from a movie once when they got a flat tire. It had been late at night and pouring rain then too. He was trying to change the tire in the dark and asked Chloe if she would grab the umbrella and the flashlight so that he could do it faster. But she couldn't get out of the car because the rain would ruin her hair.

Thinking about it now made goose bumps rise to the surface of his skin. He remembered feeling annoyed but pushing the feeling aside because that was just Chloe being Chloe. But staring up at a half-drenched Janie, a woman who had been one of his best friends for months, who he felt a physical connection to unlike any he had shared with anyone else–– who he not only left, but left cruelly–– _she_ was shielding _him_ from the rain. He gazed up at her.

"Janie, I am so sorry for so many things..." It came out as a whisper.

"Can it, Max. You are still a jerk," Janie said with a wink, "But you fix my tire, and I'll make sure you don't get pneumonia. Fair?" Max nodded and got back to work.

With the tire on and tightened, and the tools back in Max's truck, there wasn't much left to say.

"Thank you, Max. You have no idea how much time you saved me. Dinner is at my house tonight, and I still haven't gotten the food." She shoved the umbrella at Max and reached into the backseat of her car for a dry sweatshirt.

Max knew he shouldn't—he knew it was a bad idea—but he still found himself asking it anyway, "Can I offer you some company while you do your food shopping?"

Janie looked confused but not totally opposed to the idea, so Max stupidly added, "As friends, of course."

Max tried to ignore the stab of pain he saw in her eyes, as well as the stab he felt in his gut, when she answered both his question and his clarification.

"Of course."

LIKE CHILDREN, MAX and Janie walked up and down the aisles of the market putting food into their carts and making fun of each other's choices.

"Really, Max, Fruity Pebbles? What are you six years old?" Janie teased.

"Oh, okay, this is coming from the girl that has two boxes of fruit snacks and a bag of Circus Peanuts in her cart." Max laughed. The tight coil in his stomach seemed to be loosening as they shopped and fell into familiar, friendly banter. This was _them––_ easy, happy, comfortable.

He helped her decide on the menu for that night's dinner, and then they split up to collect all of the necessary ingredients for the meal.

"Do you remember the time Lyla tried to make Chinese food for Sunday dinner?"

"Janie, I thought we agreed as a group to never ever discuss that meal again. My stomach still lurches every time I see Kung Pao chicken on a takeout menu." Max gave an exaggerated shiver, sending the two of them into a small fit of laughter.

He reached over to swipe a package of crackers off the shelf, accidentally brushing against Janie's side lightly. The contact sparked tiny licks of fire in the blood coursing through her veins. The quick pang of lust stopped her for the briefest of seconds. _He only wants to be your friend_ , she reminded herself with a mental slap, _and you are moving on._

Max felt the contact of their skin in two waves: first as a hot rush, then as a hard punch to the gut. He watched her reaction from the corner of his eye. _Did she feel that?_ _Do I want her to?_ He wanted her with everything he had, and that was the problem. He had _nothing_ , nothing left to give her. Even he wasn't so selfish as to claim her and then offer her nothing but the shell he had come to be.

"Ew, you like Greek yogurt?" Janie's sexy voice brought Max out of his convoluted thoughts.

"Yes, snooty girl, I do. It's good for you. I add protein powder to it and make shakes to drink after I work out." Janie scrunched up her nose and muttered something unintelligible. "What did you say, sweetness? I didn't catch that." Max grinned.

"You know what, Max, you really don't want to know," she challenged, "It will make you never want to eat Greek yogurt ever again."

Max stood close to Janie, her coconut-and-lime-scented body filling his nose. He leaned down and lifted her chin with his index finger and thumb to meet her cerulean eyes. "I want you to tell me what you said just now, Jane."

Looking into the most beautiful emeralds she had ever seen, and feeling the profound loss of something that was never truly hers, she pulled in a breath and gave Max a sinister smile. "Okay, Max, but you asked for it..." She paused a beat, stretching out the drama. "The taste and texture of Greek yogurt reminds me of pussy. It's all slightly sour and thick and...don't you think?" With a huge grin and a little extra sway in her hips, Janie started to walk away, leaving a stone-still Max standing in the dairy aisle with a hard on.

"How would you know what that tastes like?" He asked, not recognizing the slightly higher-than-usual pitch of his own voice.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" she shot back over her shoulder.

_Fuck_ , he thought to himself, placing the yogurt back on the shelf.

AFTER THEY CHECKED out at the market, Max helped Janie put her groceries into her trunk. The rain temporarily stopped, but according to the news, there was another thunderstorm headed in their direction.

"Dinner's at five." Staring pointedly in his eyes, she continued, "What's done is done. I expect to see you, okay?"

Heat surged through his body when she pressed her soft lips to his unshaved cheek. "I'll be there, Janie."

He watched as she got into her little red Jetta and drove away.

JANIE UNPACKED THE groceries on autopilot. Yes, the eggs ended up temporarily in the pantry and the potato chips in the freezer, but in the end everything was where it needed to be.

"I handled that pretty darn well," she thought out loud.

_Janie...I'm so sorry...for so many things._ She could see the sincerity in his eyes and hear it in his voice when he'd said the words. He almost sounded like he was in pain, even.

"Good!" she said. "He should be sorry."

But the truth was, once he'd apologized, she just wanted to move on. Max was so important to her, and their relationship even before they'd had sex was special. They had fun together, laughed together, even their silences were comfortable. Janie always knew that Max held back a large part of himself—he never even discussed any past relationships. She just always assumed that one day he would open up, but that time didn't come. Her heart ached at the realization that her mind came to: _I need more than he can give_.

With _more_ in mind, she thought back to her date with Owen.

"I'm really having fun with you tonight," he'd said as they walked down Main Street. Charistown's streets were lined with shops, some big-name stores and other small boutiques. They'd walked through town—holding hands, no less—as they compared student horror stories.

Owen didn't even bristle when Janie asked what he called the typical first-date question.

"Well," Janie blushed after she uttered the words, "As clichéd as it is, it's a great question, Owen. I mean, you're a great-looking, thirty-seven-year-old man. Why _aren't_ you married yet?"

"How about this...I have no crazy secrets or horribly tragic stories, but I would love to take you out again. Can we save the answer to that question for our second date?"

Janie smiled at the memory. Here was a man that needed just another date before sharing more of his past. Max had had _months_ with Janie. Countless hours spent together and still he couldn't—or wouldn't—trust her enough with even the smallest parts of himself. Yet she couldn't get Max and his damn walls out of her mind. _Foolish girl_ , the voice in the back of her head whispered.

The chime of the doorbell made Janie look at the clock. _Who is here already?_

Janie knew it wasn't Lyla because she had called and said Kyle wanted to meet with her and talk, so it wasn't her showing up at just three o'clock to help with dinner prep. And it couldn't be anyone who actually wanted to eat unless they had serious time-telling issues.

Janie peered through the peephole and pulled in a breath.

"Hello there, stranger," she said, attempting humor, but even to her own ears it sounded like lust, "Miss me already?"

The air crackled as Max strolled into Janie's place like he owned it. But that's how it was when Max was around—his presence was overpowering; at least for Janie.

_Breathe in, breathe out_ , she reminded herself.

Following him into the kitchen, Janie finally found her voice, "Seriously, Max, what are you doing here? Dinner isn't for two hours."

Max stopped walking but Janie hadn't, so when their bodies collided, her chest to his broad back, breathing became an issue once more. When he turned around to face her, she inhaled deeply. His hair was still damp from his recent shower, and he smelled oh-so-delicious.

"Do I pass inspection, ma'am?" He asked with a full smile.

She hadn't realized she had been staring. _Whoops._ Embarrassed, Janie poked him in the hard abdominals and walked past.

"Jane, I was on the phone with Lyla—thanks for telling me she moved, by the way," he said sarcastically, "When Kyle showed up at her place, she said she wasn't coming over to help you because she, and I quote, 'had to hear this asshole out.' So, I figured you could use some help, and here I am."

"You could have called, Max," Janie offered, trying to sound put out.

"And you would've told me no, so I decided just to show up. So, tell me want you want me to do."

What Janie wanted from Max he wasn't willing to give her—she wanted him to open up, she wanted honesty. She wanted his love. She wanted his body.

Instead she said, "How about if you start cutting vegetables for the salad?"

As if Max could read the many other things that crossed her mind before her verbalized request, he just stared at her. Their eyes locked in an embrace that neither one wanted to sever.

"Janie..." Max's voice sounded strained, needy.

"Max, tell me," Janie asked stepping away from him to give herself some physical distance, "Please. Let me help you get through whatever's haunting you. We were friends first, so let me be your friend. I can see that it's hurting you. Let me in. You can trust me."

Without realizing it, she had inched closer to him during her plea. Her hand now rested on his forearm. Electrical currents were pulsing up her arms and zinging through her body. With forced gentleness, she removed her hand from his skin, praying that he couldn't see the panic and lust that was encompassing her every thought. She fought the need to comfort him and the desire to make him forget every woman that came before her.

Her touch had felt warm and smooth, like fine silk draping his skin, but when she removed her fingers, white-hot heat surged straight to his heart. _If she only knew the effect she had on you_ , his mind screamed, _she would never let you go_.

_You're being a selfish ass_. The other side of his mind fought back. _Let her go_!

Ignoring his body in favor of his mind, Max's mouth began to move. "I wish I could, Janie. I know that it sounds clichéd...Christ, it even hurts to say it out loud, but honest to God, I couldn't mean this more...it's not you, it's me."

Flinching at the brush off, she shrugged her shoulders, "Okay, Max, whatever you want. Like I said, I just want to be your friend. Now, be a good sous chef and finish the salad and then pound the chicken breast for the chicken parmesan. I'm gonna take a quick shower before everyone gets here."

Max knew Janie well enough to know that his words hurt her. She looked physically pained every time he shut her out. While he wasn't lying when he said the problem wasn't her, it left a fresh scar on his heart every time he saw the ache he inflicted flash through her eyes. The need to see her face was overwhelming. He had to look in her aqua eyes and make her understand that he wasn't worth her time or her heart.

The bathroom door was all that stood between them. He lifted his hand to the doorknob, wanting so badly to open it and go to her.

He could envision her beautiful, naked body through the steam coming from the shower, the water trickling down her soft skin. Stripping himself down and sliding into the shower behind her; his large hands moving around her narrow waist, grazing over her ribcage and trailing up until he caressed her breasts. His thumb and forefinger rolling her nipples as he leans into her neck and drags his tongue up the long column until he reaches her jaw. Slowly turning her around, the water pounding at her back, he bends forward and begins a slow assault using his lips, his tongue, and his teeth. Her nipples pebble between his fingers, and a slow husky moan bubbles up from her throat, giving voice to her approval of his touch. She whimpers when he moves one hand from her breast and slowly lets it travel down her belly over her pubic bone. She runs her own hand up along his jaw and into his wet blond hair, pulling his head closer to her neck just as he strokes the hard nub between her thighs. She moans when he uses the pad of his finger to fondle her clit, and he can feel her body start to tremble and tighten. He's not ready to let her come because that would mean he'd be letting her go, so he sinks first one finger, and then two, into her moist heat and begins a slow rhythm in and out of her cunt. "Oh, Max. Oh my God." Her body is shaking, and her pussy is creaming on his fingers as he's licking her neck, her jaw, and finally her lips. As he continues to fuck her with his fingers, he uses his thumb to rub her clit, finally bringing her over the edge. He can feel the walls of her sex milking his fingers as he whispers his apology and his love into her ear.

The water from the shower snapped off, then, and Max realized that he was still standing in the hallway with his hand on the doorknob.

Dazed, disturbed, and a little disappointed in himself, he walked back to the kitchen feeling less like the man in his fantasy and more like the coward he realized he'd become. But nothing had changed, trust wasn't possible for him. He thought Chloe loved him, and he thought he loved her, but really she was pulling his strings like the puppet master she was, and when she was bored she found new puppets to play with until she was ready to come back to him for more. He was nothing more than her prop, a lap dog, a fool.

Max looked down at the chicken he was pounding. _I hope they like their chicken breast thin_ , he thought.

***

You'd Better Be

DRESSED IN SKINNY jeans and a pink tank top, Janie whirled around her apartment making sure there were beer in the fridge and napkins on the table. The house smelled delicious by the time the group started to arrive, and she had to admit, Max really was helpful.

"Okay, Max, it didn't suck having you here to help," she joked. He didn't need to know that she had a small moment of weakness in the shower where she let one or two or twenty tears fall. She loved him, and she wasn't going to apologize for it. She couldn't help being emotional; it's who she was. But she was beginning to realize that crying didn't mean she was weak, because every day Janie was getting stronger. She was committed to moving on, and each day would get easier.

A knock sounded on the door, but there wasn't time to answer it because Ashley and Ryan just walked right in carrying cookies and wine. _Family._ Janie smiled to herself. _So this is what it feels like_.

"All I'm asking is, when you are 'entertaining,' that you be a little more thoughtful of the time. There is no reason why I need to hear that you are a 'god' until five in the morning," Ashley complained.

Ryan smirked. "Sorry, Ash, I can't help that I make the ladies happy."

Max gave Ryan a high five, and venom spewed from Ashley's hazel eyes, "Do _not_ encourage this behavior, Max DeLucca."

Janie looked at Ashley and caught something in the other woman's face. She had seen that look before. Ashley left Ryan and Max at the door and walked over to Janie.

"You okay?" Janie whispered.

Ashley rolled her tense shoulders, "Whatever. He's a free man, right?" Then she walked into the kitchen for a beer.

Danny and Julie arrived next, with cheesecake and brownies, Janie's favorite. When the door opened again, shortly after, the entire apartment went silent as Lyla walked in with Kyle in tow.

"What's up, people?" Lyla greeted. No one said a word. Kyle looked almost bashful as he nodded his greeting. Danny smiled and clapped him on the back.

"Look," Lyla addressed the room, "Kyle, here, can be an ass. That is no surprise. He said horrible, hateful things last week. We talked. He knows his words can never be undone, and he knows that it was his one fuck-up. It's done. It's over. So, let's move on, shall we?"

With Lyla letting Kyle off the hook, everyone else had no other choice, so Sunday dinner went back to its formally peaceful state. Lyla went into the kitchen to grab a drink, and the rest of the women followed her.

"Are you really okay with this?" Janie asked. Lyla sent Janie a look so quick that no one else would have ever noticed it. It told Janie that Lyla was still hurting from last week, but that she was trying to get past it. "I want the full story later, Ly, you got it?" Lyla nodded her affirmative, and Janie couldn't help but smile proudly. This was a huge step for Lyla.

"So, now that we're huddled in the kitchen," Julie quietly asked, "How was your date last night?" All eyes went to Janie. She felt her cheeks warm under the scrutiny.

"You know what? It was really nice, and—"

Before she could finish her thought, all the women echoed an "ohhh."

"Wait, what's that supposed to mean?" Janie asked defensively.

"'It was really nice' is the equivalent of 'she has a good personality,' or 'no, size doesn't matter, it's how you use it that counts,'" Lyla said. All four women burst out laughing until a little snorting followed.

Ryan came in to the kitchen, "Everything all right in here?" He asked.

"Yes! Get out, Ryan," Ashley said with a little more bite than humor.

"That is the next topic up for discussion," Janie said through her hiccups. Ashley gave her a scathing look.

"Anyway," Janie continued, "It was more than nice. He is really hot—in fact he's beautiful to look at. We had dinner and cocktails on State Street––"

"I'll bet you had _cock_ tails!" Lyla snorted at her own joke, and laughter peeled out of the women again.

"Ly, stop. I'm trying to tell you he was a real gentleman. We talked. I mean, we really _talked_ —about so many things; he even discussed his past with me. You know, ex-girlfriends, old drama, the works. I mean, my God, you-know-who is shut so tight I don't know if he was born or hatched, but _Owen_ ...he _wants_ to share with me."

"This all sounds...wholesome." Sarcasm dripped from Lyla's upturned lips, "But did you kiss him?"

"Lyla! You are a piece of work!" Ashley ran her fingers through the newly dyed purple streaks in her sun-kissed blonde hair, "So...did you kiss him?"

"I'm not one to kiss and tell," Janie said demurely.

"Yeah, right! But you are obviously one to lie like a fucking rug! So spill it!"

Leave it to Lyla to call me on my bullshit.

"Yes, okay, we kissed. He even asked my permission—it was really sweet. The kiss was kind of hot and sexy, though." The smile that painted Janie's lips was genuine.

"Are you going out with him again?" Julie asked, an eyebrow raised.

"He already asked, and I already accepted," Janie beamed.

WHILE THE LADIES were in the kitchen, the guys were in the family room razzing on Kyle.

"I can't believe you had the balls to talk to her face-to-face," Ryan teased.

"Don't be an ass, Ryan. He owed her at least that. I'm proud of you, son," Danny announced.

Kyle, drinking only water, lifted his bottle. "To Lyla, I don't know what she does when she's not with us, but thank God she doesn't keep swords in her house." Kyle looked thoughtful for a moment and then added to his toast, "at least not ones that she's unpacked yet." The four men laughed and lifted their drinks to Lyla.

"So," Ryan interjected, "Speaking of our ladies of myst—"

"We were talking about Lyla," Max cut him off.

"Right, and now I'm talking about Janie. What were you doing here so early? You're never the first person here on Sunday."

Max flipped his middle finger at Ryan and then addressed the guys.

"Well, dipshit over here went to talk to Lyla, so I thought Janie could use some help with dinner prep." Max didn't tell them that he had been with her earlier—they would never let that tasty little morsel drop, so he kept it to himself. Besides, no one but Danny knew his true feelings for Janie, and he had no intention of explaining that being with her was the only time he was truly happy.

Max was so stuck in his own thoughts that he missed the conversation turn.

"I know—Ashley's probably getting the scoop right now." Ryan smiled to a nodding Danny and Kyle.

"What did you say? I totally missed it."

Kyle huffed, "And you guys think I'm fucked up. Pay attention, Max. We were just talking about Janie's date last night."

Max felt his stomach drop like a cinderblock. With the remaining air left in his tightening lungs, he managed to squeeze out a "What?"

"Yeah," Ryan said, "Ashley went to Lyla's house yesterday to help with unpacking so that Janie could get ready for her date; apparently some teacher from her school."

Max looked over at Danny, who shrugged his shoulders. Max quickly shot up off the couch and headed for the door.

"Where you going?" Ryan asked.

"Just for some air," Max answered, "I'll be back before dinner."

As he closed the apartment door he heard Danny's gravelly voice, "You'd better be."

THE WOMEN CAME out of the kitchen with smiles and drinks for everyone. Janie looked around for Max, but he wasn't there.

"He had to run out for a minute. He'll be right back," Danny answered Janie's unasked question, "So, tell us about your date, honey."

Janie felt her eyes go wide. They all knew she went out last night? _Oh no_. _Is that why Max left?_ She could feel her cheeks grow warm with irritation—he didn't want her, but he didn't want anyone else to have her either? _Nice, Max. Nice_. The thought was immediately followed up with, _Narcissistic much, Janie?_

Janie shook off her inner monologue, "I went out with a co-worker. We've been hanging out at school for the past week, and he asked, so I accepted." Janie looked around the room. All eyes were pasted on her. "He is really handsome and kind and sweet. Danny, you would like him. He's not a douche at all."

Danny let out a deep belly laugh, "Good, honey. I'm glad!"

"We had dinner, and he didn't even make me pay the tip," she joked, "We're going out again—"

Before Janie could finish her statement, Max re-entered her apartment. The room went silent for a brief second before Lyla announced that dinner was ready. The group went to the table, the quiet, a bit uncomfortable, and sat down to eat.

Max was tense. His head hurt and his teeth ached, but he couldn't seem to lessen the clamp of his jaw. It presented a slight problem in regards to eating, but Max wasn't concerned about that just then. He had setup the rules, he reminded himself. He had refused her. _It's not you, it's me_ , he'd told her. He couldn't now keep her from dating. He wasn't being fair, and he knew it. He knew that he had no claim to her, but hearing Kyle and Ryan discuss Janie's love life made Max want to vomit. So that's what he had done. He'd gone outside and puked his guts up. Then he went to the pharmacy and got some mouthwash before coming back. The whole thing was like a knife through his gut, and now he was bleeding out with no one to blame but himself.

As he sat, he watched as his family—the one he had by choice—sat around the table and ate dinner together. They laughed at each other's jokes and called one another out on their bullshit. This was the life he had dreamed of when he and Chloe first started dating. He'd thought they would have a house full of friends and family. He thought they would share dinners and holidays, and when he couldn't be with his family of blood, he would be with his family of choice; but she gave him nothing and took everything.

"Max, you don't look well. Are you okay?" Janie asked.

He stared wordlessly for a second as he looked at her face. _The face of an angel_ , he thought, _an angel who had a date last night and spent the whole day with you and never bothered to mention it_. He could feel the bile rising in the back of his throat.

"You know what, Jane," Max said weakly, "I really don't feel well. I'm gonna head home. I'll see you all later." Max got up and gave the table a wave and a head nod before walking out of Janie's apartment.

"That sucks that he had to leave," Ashley said.

"It's what he does best," Janie muttered, barely able to hide the agitation in her voice. She ignored the stares pointed in her direction as she got up and prematurely began to clear the dishes from the table.

ON MONDAY MORNING, Janie arrived at school feeling a bit hazy. Her mind was cluttered with emotional Post-it notes. Lyla was in her Ho-House trying to meet her deadline, which meant Janie would want to bring food over to her house for dinner to remind Lyla to eat. She dropped off bagels on her way to work that morning and at least she had been able to arm herself with coffee.

Owen had texted her Sunday morning to thank her for a "nice night." But, since her chat with the girls, she was now questioning whether "nice" was good or bad. Then she had the big, neon-orange Max sign right in front of her, they had had so much fun together yesterday. At least she thought they did. But he looked positively green by dinnertime. Was it finding out that she had been dating that had him looking for an excuse to leave, or was he actually ill? Knowing that she needed to get to the bottom of this once and for all, she decided there was nothing wrong with bringing a sick friend some soup. She'd stop by on the way to Lyla's, adding another Post-it to her already cluttered mind.

"Good morning, Janie," came a smooth voice from just beside her.

Janie felt her inside go mushy, "Good morning to you too."

Owen looked around them quickly to make sure the coast was clear, and then he kissed her cheek. The action brought a smile to her face. Here she thought, after seeing him look around, that he would go for a kiss on the lips, but this man was full of sweet surprises.

"So, I had a really nice time on Saturday night. Are you free again tomorrow?" His melted-chocolate eyes made it almost impossible for Janie to refuse.

"It depends," Janie replied to a surprisingly shy-looking Owen, "Can you tell me what you meant by you had a 'nice' time on Saturday night?" Janie asked.

Owen's mocha skin flushed with a pinkish hue, "What do you mean?"

Janie reached out and placed her small hand on his muscled forearm and giggled. "Relax, Owen. I'm just asking because I was telling my friends about our date." She watched as his brow lifted in what appeared to be curiosity. "I, too, said it was a really nice night, and they gave me a hard time about the adjective _nice_. They said it was the equivalent of 'he has a great personality but,' So, I guess I'm wondering–– am I more than just a great personality to you?"

Owen released a huge, minty breath and placed another kiss on Janie's cheek.

"I can't speak for you, but I had a _great_ time. As we said on Saturday, we've both been burned in the past. So, to me, _nice_ means taking it slow."

Janie looked pleased. "That sounds...nice," she whispered with a giggle, "And tomorrow night is perfect."

***

More Than One Step

THE SUN WAS setting, beautiful deep purples, oranges, and reds painting the sky as Max gazed out the bay window from his master suite. It was seven o'clock on Monday night, but it may as well have been midnight. Gage needed an extra set of hands at the garage, and Max loved working alongside his friend, though the work was hard and twelve hours later he was home and just out of the shower.

His body was tired, but at least the physical labor helped to quiet his mind. He was still dealing with the news of hearing that Janie was dating. He didn't know what he was feeling exactly, but it was making him edgy. He didn't want to feel _anything_. He needed to move on, to get her out of his head. _Clearly she has_. Jealousy and sadness gripped his chest like a vice. He reached for his phone and dialed Gage.

"Wanna grab a drink?"

"Sure, man. I'll meet you in an hour."

Max sighed in relief. _Good, company would help_ , he thought just as the doorbell chimed _._

Walking out of his bedroom he realized he was only in a towel. He threw on sweatpants and walked down the stairs of his two-story Victorian home. The bell chimed again. With his mind elsewhere, he padded barefoot to the front door and pulled it open.

JANIE STOOD OUTSIDE Max's house with a bag of food. She went back and forth deciding whether or not wait for him to answer the door or just to leave it and send him a text telling him that it was there. But then he opened the door. Half naked.

"Damn," she muttered. She couldn't stop her eyes from doing a full-frontal gaze of his torso. The man was like a work of art; his chest was so broad and muscular. His skin still held that hint of golden tan from the summer, too, and was sprinkled with dark-blond hair that ran from left to right and down the middle of his stomach into the waistband of his sweatpants. She knew what was in those sweatpants.... She licked her suddenly dry lips.

Max stared at Janie and breathed in her characteristic scent. Thanks to Lyla and raspberry truffles, he now knew exactly where to get that lotion. And thanks to Janie, every time he cut limes at work, he thought of her.

He watched as the tip of Janie's small, pink tongue licked her full bottom lip. God, she was beautiful.

"Uh, hi, Jane," he said with a raspy voice that didn't seem to be his, "What are you doing here?"

Janie shook her head, trying to pull her mind away from the sexy, half-naked man standing in front of her.

"Um...hi. You looked like you weren't feeling well last night, so I brought you soup." Janie gave Max another full-body glance and realized how completely foolish she must look. "Clearly, you're fine...but here's the food. I'll see you later." Janie shoved the bag in Max's hands and walked away, each step heavier than the one before.

"Janie, wait!"

The sound of her name coming from his lips always sent a thrill through her body. This time was no exception. She was halfway to her car before she turned around. Max had taken one step out of his door but no more. His body was pensive but his expression hungry, she could see the rise and fall of his chest as he took in shallow breaths. But he didn't move.

"One step," she whispered realization finally, _finally_ , hitting her like a freight train through a tunnel. Janie pulled in a breath and waited another heartbeat, and then another, but Max stood silently, his eyes locked on hers. Stalking her way back up to Max, she held his gaze. His normally brightened eyes darkened to a deep jade and appeared to be filled with desire, hesitation, and fear.

_Enough of this_ , she thought.

She stopped when she was close enough to feel his body heat through her clothes. She lifted herself onto her tiptoes and placed one hand over Max's heart and the other on the back of his head. She lowered his face down to meet hers and planted her lips on his. It started out tentative, more like a question as she nibbled at his lips. At first, she was worried that she had misread his look. She thought she sensed desire weaved in with his complete confusion, but maybe she was wrong. Just as she was about to pull away, Max's hands cupped the back of her head, keeping her in place. His mouth opened, and his tongue entered her mouth. Janie moaned with the pleasure of a simple kiss, but in reality, a kiss with Max was anything but simple.

Janie ate hungrily at Max's mouth, and he let out a moan of his own as he pulled her closer. She felt his erection through the thin cotton of his sweatpants, and Janie's panties dampened. She knew that if she let it happen, they could be in bed within minutes, he could be deep inside her, making her come. Goose bumps run up and down her arms as her mind screamed for her to stop, and then she did.

She opened her eyes and pulled away from the embrace. She watched as Max opened his lust-filled green eyes and awareness struck him.

"Why did you do that?" He asked, his voice husky with desire. His eyes filled with equal parts confusion and arousal. Janie dragged in a lungful of air and continued to look into the emerald gems; she knew it was time to do this.

"Max, I love you." He opened his mouth to speak, but Janie placed one finger over his lips to shut him down, "I love you. I love you so much that it physically hurts. And to be honest, I really thought, even after everything, that maybe you loved me too. But Ashley was right. I was hearing what I wanted to hear and not what you were actually saying." He watched as she seemed to search for the right words, "I came here tonight looking for answers. And you gave them to me."

"I don't understand, Janie..."

"I know you don't. And that, right there, was all the answer I needed. I turned around to leave you just now, and you took one step to come after me. One fucking step, Max," she said without any anger in her tone, "I've waited my whole life to feel worthy of love and affection. I never got it from my parents or my siblings, and I never found it from other lovers. Hell, I couldn't even find it in myself. But I get it now. After all the times you and Lyla have told me that I'm worth more than the men I've dated...well, I finally believe you. I'm worth more than _one fucking step_ , Max. I deserve _at least_ halfway."

Unshed tears burned Janie's eyes, but she managed not to let them fall. Had it been any other man who caused that look on her beautiful face, he would have killed them, but knowing it was he who did the damage made him want to punch himself. Instead, he stood in front of this strong, loving, giving woman and didn't say a word.

Janie continued, "You can't give me that...fine. I still love you. But I'm done coming to you. I'm done taking all of the steps. I can't make you love me, and I don't want to. You want friendship—okay. I can give you that because our friendship has meant so much to me. But I'm done with the rest, Max. So, be a good friend and keep your fingers crossed that there is someone out there that can make me as happy as I deserve to be. As for me, I'll return the favor and hope that one day you find a woman that you trust with your heart."

With that, Janie turned around and waved her hand in a backward good-bye. Max stood shirtless, outside in the dark, as he watched another woman drive away from him. Another woman leave him standing all alone. Self-loathing wrapped around him like a snake, as realization squeezed the oxygen from his lungs. He could have stopped her from going had he just asked her to stay.

JANIE ARRIVED AT Lyla's house with tear-streaked cheeks and shaking hands, "Oh my God, honey. Whose ass do I have to kick?" Lyla demanded.

Janie took in Lyla's appearance; she didn't look her best, either. Her espresso hair was in a messy bun with pens sticking out of several places. She was wearing her Batgirl T-shirt and ripped leggings. She had been in her Ho-House for almost two weeks, minus the Thursday night that Janie made her go to Danny's and Sunday dinner. She looked like she had lost weight and barely showered. In a word she looked, well, gross, but Janie loved her that way. This was the Lyla that kicked ass first and asked questions later.

"You have to kick _my_ ass, Ly." Janie sniffled.

Lyla looked at her best friend and then at the bags she had in her hands.

"Can I kick your ass after you feed me? I haven't eaten since the bagel you brought me this morning. I would hate to break the hands that feed me." Lyla winked at Janie and then grabbed the Chinese takeout containers, "Come on."

Janie gave a detailed version of her encounter with Max, while Lyla ate directly from the white cartons.

"So I kissed him and then told him I was finished. Could I be a bigger tease?"

Through slurps of lo mien, Lyla said, "You basically told him to shit or get off the pot?"

"Yuck, Ly. I know I taught you not to speak with your mouth full! And don't forget, I told him that I loved him." Janie cringed at her own stupidity.

"Yeah, but you do love him, so what's the problem?" Lyla asked.

"You know, for a woman that writes romance novels for a living, sometimes I think you are clueless when it comes to love. I told a man who has been running for the hills that I love him, and then I told him that I deserve better than him." She let out a humorless laugh. "This is why men think women are crazy. We are!"

Lyla looked at Janie's dejected posture and thwacked her on the side of the head.

"First of all, missy, I _do_ write romance novels, and I know a thing or two about how men's minds work, seeing as I am constantly fucking them, so I can tell you that you just laid down the proverbial gauntlet. It may not happen right away, but Max is going to come for you. Whether or not you want him by the time he reaches you is up to you."

"This is not a game to me, Lyla Paige Dalton," Janie all but screamed, "I love him, and I don't want him to want me just because I'm a challenge. I wanted him to trust me. I wanted to mean something to him."

Lyla nodded, giving Janie a warm smile as she pulled her into an embrace. Lyla stroked Janie's hair, "Jane, he loves you. He just can't see past whatever hurt him in his past. I know how that is...so do you. Move on, date, have fun with 'nice' Owen tomorrow night. Things will work out the way they are meant to. Trust me."

Janie hugged Lyla tighter. "Okay, Ly," she said softly, "I'll trust you on this one, but you need to trust me on something, too."

Lyla stepped back and looked seriously at Janie. "What's up?"

Janie held her nose. "Lyla, honey, you smell like dirty ass. Please go take a shower, and give me your clothes. I promise I won't burn them, but they do need to be fumigated."

Lyla started laughing and began to strip down, "I love you, Janie. Thanks for taking care of me."

"Right back at ya," Janie said, "Now, go shower. You smell like ass."

"NO, I SWEAR, don't you think he acted like we were asking for his kidney? All we wanted was more wine." Janie couldn't help but laugh at the amused expression on Owen's handsome face. "He was our waiter for God's sake!"

The previous night's dinner had been lovely, aside from the service, and the conversation flowed like the wine they drank. The date had felt like aloe on sunburned skin: cool and refreshing on top of raw, blistered pain. It was exactly what she had needed after the emotional encounter with Max the day before.

"Oh, I know," she giggled in the parking lot. "He sucked, but come on; you have to admit he was totally entertaining." Her breath hitched in her chest as Owen tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and leaned in for a kiss. She felt like a teenager getting kissed in the parking lot of the school, but since there was no one around, she let herself sink into his embrace. His kisses were warm and gentle. They made her insides tingle and her heart feel light.

"I'll call you later," he promised. He opened her car door and watched her slide in.

Smiling, Janie watched the sexy schoolteacher walk to his own car, as the chime of her cell phone alerted her to a text.

Ash and I are at Starbucks waiting for you. We can't wait to get the goods on ur date with 'nice O'...get here. L

Rolling her eyes at Lyla's nickname for Owen, Janie drove to Starbucks to meet her girls.

"MAX, DO YOU intend to make a career out of brooding? Because I can get my camera. Women will swoon over a face like that."

"Oh...hey, Julie. I didn't even see you there." At three o'clock the bar was empty, so he was doing prep for the night shift. He had already filled the juices, and now he was cutting the fruit. The smell of the lime had permeated his senses and thoughts of a particular brunette kept hijacking his attention.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?"

Max nodded his agreement and walked out from behind the bar to join Julie on the stools.

"I know you already had a 'Come to Danny' chat, and the last thing you probably want is motherly advice from me." Before Max could speak, Julie placed her hand over his and shook her head. "I said it was the last thing you _want_ , but you need to hear it, so listen up. You fell in love with a woman, and you got burned. There's no denying that. I'm not trying to take that from you, Max. It happened. But you're thirty-seven years old, and no matter how much you want to deny it, you fell in love again, and this time it's with a wonderful woman. Now you are walking away—no, running away—from something good. And you are making a mistake, Max. You aren't supposed to end up alone, sweetie. I would hate to see that happen because you were too scared to take a chance."

He felt Julie squeeze his hand as she got up to head back to her office, but the rest of him felt numb. _I need more time_ , he told to himself. _Just a little more time._

"I GOT YOU a coffee—lots of cream and a sweetener, just the way you like it," Ashley declared, looking proud of her accomplishment. Today, pink streaks accented her silky blond hair. After months of discussions, Janie and Lyla decided that Ashley's streaks had a direct correlation to her mood. _Hmm_ , Janie wondered. _Pink. Playful? Happy?_

"So, start talking, Jane. How was last night? Did Nice Owen give you a nice O?" When iced coffee shot out of Ashley's nose, Janie and Lyla howled with laughter.

"No, Ly. _Owen_ and I are going slow. We've only been out a couple times."

"Yeah, but don't you see each other every day?" Ashley questioned.

"And doesn't he call or text you every night?" Lyla accused.

"Oh my God, guys, yes...we see each other every day. And yes, we talk in some way each night." Janie shrugged her shoulders, "We're just not there yet. So, chill out. And speaking of chill, has your nose warmed up, Ash?"

Ashley wiped at her nose as Lyla and Janie laughed again.

"Anyway," Janie added, "We're going out again on Monday night," she said as she stood up to grab more napkins. She saw a quick look pass between Lyla and Ashley, but she didn't care to ask what it meant.

"Shit, I have to go into work," Ashley announced after receiving a text, "Looks like Kyle called out sick...again."

Janie's eyebrows knitted together. "What's going on with him?"

"Since when is hungover considered sick?" Lyla snorted, letting Janie's question roll away.

Ashley shrugged her shoulders, tossed her empty cup in the trash, and left her friends at the table.

"TO ANOTHER ONE in the can." Janie lifted her glass and clinked it against Lyla's.

It was Thursday night, and they were sitting at a high-top table, toasting to Lyla's current novel that was now on its way to production.

"It still amazes me that people want to read my words," Lyla mused before sipping her drink.

_She really has no idea how talented she is_. "Are you ever going to tell everyone what you actually do for a living? Or do you intend to let them think you're the neighborhood 'Dear Abby' forever?"

"So, did you talk to Nice O before you came out tonight?"

"Lyla!" Janie huffed, "That was the worst avoidance tactic I have ever seen!" They both laughed.

"But it worked, right? So, did you? Come on, Jane. Talk to me." Lyla lifted her hand to signal for the waitress to bring them another round.

"HEY, KYLE," MAX called from down the bar, "The new waitress is swamped, partly because she spends all of her time staring at you"—he chuckled—"and Janie and Lyla need a round. Since you're their new best friend, and their table is closest to you, can you be a nice little bartender and bring these drinks over to them?"

Kyle flipped Max the finger and quickly brought the cocktails over to the ladies.

"Hey, Kyle, they have you slinging and bringing drinks now?" Lyla teased.

Kyle's normally easy smile appeared forced, and his face slightly pinched, "You okay, Ky?" Janie asked.

"I'm fucking great. I love being a fucking waitress...even if it is for the two of you." He quickly placed down the drinks and left the table. Shrugging their shoulders the women went back to their conversation.

Looking at Janie suspiciously, Lyla brought the conversation back to Owen, "As you were saying..."

Janie took a small sip of her drink and continued, "Owen is great. He's so good looking and his eyes...God, they're like chocolate morsels. He smells so good; I just want to snuggle up close to him. His voice is smooth like hot fudge and his kisses are just as sweet––"

Reaching over the tabletop, Lyla placed her hand on Janie's. "Jane, you can sugar coat him, you can chocolate cover him but in the end, does he make your heart melt?"

"I don't know Ly, but he's just really... sweet." They both giggled at the candy-coated conversation and allowed the laughter to dissolve the tension.

***

She Was My Wife

AFTER AN HOUR of thinking, Max pulled the Ferrari over to the side of the track. Sweat was dripping down the sides of his face and his back as he got out of the car and stepped into the cool early fall air. It had been a full week since that Monday evening when he'd watched Janie walk away from him; a full week since he'd stood there like an idiot and let her go. Aside from his breathing, there were no other sounds of life, just him, the asphalt, and his thoughts.

_I love you, Max...I deserve more than one step..._ He had been replaying her words on a loop in his mind for seven days. He watched her on Thursday night as she and Lyla sat at their table and laughed. She was being exactly who she was, Janie Silver, _not_ Chloe Smyth. He sighed, had claimed his parents were hosting a dinner party he needed to attend just so he could avoid going to Sunday dinner last night because he still wasn't ready to face her.

"She has never been like Chloe," he said out loud. As if on video montage, the seven months of their friendship replayed in his mind. He was happiest when he was with her. It didn't matter how they spent their time together, they had fun. She made him feel relaxed, safe...whole. She gave him all of herself, and he gave her the Cliffs Notes version in return. She was right: she deserved so much more. She deserved a man that would meet her halfway, that would reach out, pick her up, and carry her if she were too tired to walk on her own. And he wanted to be that man. He had to be that man.

His body moved on autopilot, and he ended up standing in Gage's office.

Still sweaty and sticky from his drive, he said to his friend, "I love her." The words felt strange on his tongue at first, but they tasted sweeter each time he repeated them, "I tried not to, but I do. I'm in love with her, Gage." He then turned around and ran out of the office, the sound of his boots echoing in the hallway as he ran for the exit.

"Max, wait!" Gage's voice called down the hallway, but Max ignored his friend because he needed to find his girl. He needed to tell her how he felt, and no one was going to stop him.

"JANIE, IT'S MAX. Please call me back.... I need to talk to you." When he was done his message, he hung up, then left similar messages on Lyla's and Ashley's voice mails.

"Where the fuck is everyone?"

A foreboding sensation crept up his spine as he realized it was Monday night. Most of the bars, including Danny's, would be slow. Maybe the girls were all out together...or maybe... Could Janie be out on another date? He gave himself a mental shake before the thought of her out with another man made him physically ill. Now that he accepted that he was in love with her, the thought was incomprehensible.

Skidding into the parking lot of Danny's, he barely threw his car into park before jumping out and hauling ass towards the back office. Maybe Julie would know where Janie was.

Recognizable voices came from the office, "She's having a good time—she deserves it," Julie's soft voice stated matter-of-factly.

"Look, I know what I heard. It's more than that. She's into this guy."

"Kyle, you of all people should know that what you hear isn't always how it is," Danny reminded him.

"Who's into what guy?" Max growled, knowing that he wasn't going to like the answer. Identical looks of surprise covered their faces as Kyle, Danny, and Julie all turned to see Max standing in the office door. He could feel the warmth in his cheeks as he clenched his fists. He watched as shock morphed into what looked like relief for Danny and Julie, and shame for Kyle.

"Max," Danny said calmly, "Come sit down."

"I am _not_ sitting down, Danny. I only came here to see if Julie knew where Janie was tonight." He trained his gaze to Julie, "Apparently you do. Tell me where she is."

Julie opened her mouth to speak, but Kyle cut her off, "Max, I'm sorry I didn't tell you, man. I heard Janie and Lyla talking on Thursday night. I just couldn't bring myself to be the one to tell you...again." Kyle's eyes were downcast, his posture drawn in tight. Max could feel the turmoil radiating from his friend.

"Kyle, this isn't your problem." The memory of the day Kyle told him that Chloe had been cheating on him flashed through Max's mind. They'd barely known each other at the time and that bit of information changed Max's life forever. Reaching over, he placed his hand on his friend's arm. "We're good, man. This isn't your fault...it's mine."

Lifting his head once again to Julie's, he begged, "Please, Julie. You were right, I made a mistake. Tell me where she is."

With the information he needed, he turned on a booted foot and ran out of the office, through the bar, and out to his car. The sound of screeching tires and the smell of burning rubber were the only signs that Max had even been there.

SITTING ON THE front patio of the White Knight restaurant, Janie sipped her wine and listened while Owen regaled her with tales of his latest eighth-grade pseudo-stalker.

"What do they expect me to do? Be like, 'Oh, okay, I love you too...as soon as you're eighteen we'll get married'? I mean, honestly," he teased. Janie laughed at his story and at the silly way he described his reactions to his students. He truly didn't understand how they could be so attracted to him, and it made him even hotter. _I bet even the fourteen-year-old girls could pick up on that_ , she thought to herself.

He reached his hand over the table, lacing his fingers with hers. The light from the fire pit cast a warm glow on his skin as a beautiful smile slowly spread across his mouth, "A penny for your thoughts?"

Keeping her hand nestled in his; she rubbed her thumb along his knuckles, "Oh, Owen...my thoughts..."

Janie wasn't sure which came first, the small hairs standing up on the back of her neck or the deep growl that said, "You have got to be fucking kidding me!"

Janie whipped her head to the right. The low partition separating the sidewalk traffic from the diners wasn't enough of a barrier to ward off the anguish that pulsed off Max's body. As her eyes traveled up, for once, it seemed as though she could read his emotions; sadness, frustration, and... contempt? Was he angry? She watched as his glare shifted to Owen and hardened even more.

When Max first walked up and saw Janie holding hands with her date, fingers tangled in an intimate caress, he felt a pain in his heart. But when he recognized who the mystery man was, he felt like he had been punched in the gut. Anger bubbled out of his mouth before he could control it.

Janie looked at Owen and saw his own expression was full of sadness and something that looked like shame. He removed his fingers from her grasp and stood up to face Max eye to eye.

"Really, Owen?" Max hissed, "Christ, I'd hoped to never see you again, you lying motherfucker. You called yourself my friend? Did you honestly think I wouldn't find out?"

"Max, I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I—" Remorse was pouring out of Owen's mouth. Max's nostrils flared as his fists tightened. The other diners stared at the scene that was playing out like dinner theater. As if scripted, the hum of a motorcycle pulled up to the sidewalk, and Gage was immediately by Max's side.

"Step back, brother," Gage said with a tense voice. Just then, Ashley and Lyla came running up the street in their stiletto heels. Lyla had her cell to her ear and was reassuring Danny that she would call him as soon as the situation was under control. If the predicament wasn't so serious, Janie would have been laughing at the public display. But it was and she wasn't.

Owen looked at Janie, "Do you remember the situation I told you about from high school?" Janie knew exactly what Owen was referring to. They had discussed it a couple of times—Owen had slept with the girlfriend of a good friend of his. At the time he knew it was wrong, but the girl was "hot" (his words) and she kept throwing herself at him. Owen had explained that back then, he finally gave in to the girl, but after the one night they were together, he couldn't look his friend in the eye ever again. He said he'd spent the rest of his senior year practically avoiding him, without ever giving a reason. While the guilt weighed on him for years, it wasn't until he caught his fiancé cheating on him with his best friend that what he did really hit home. He had spent the past few years licking his wounds and trying to be a better man. While hearing about Owen's heartbreak was sad, Janie was thrilled that he had offered her information about his past and that he was willing to put it behind him.

Owen hedged around the table and out of the gated area, onto the sidewalk.

"Stay the fuck away from me," Max snarled, "You never cared about our friendship. You fucked my Chloe when you knew I loved her." His eyes darted from Owen to Janie and back, "And now...now that I've finally allowed myself to love again, you're gonna take Janie, too?"

Janie had no idea what was going on around her. Her head was spinning. _Did he just say love?_

"What did you just say?" She asked quietly, her voice paralyzed with incredulity. She waited a beat, but no one answered her. They were all too busy watching for impending signs of violence. She got up from the table and walked over to the assembly on the sidewalk.

"Look, Max." Owen scrubbed his fingers over his hair, "We were kids. I'm not making any excuses, I was an asshole. We were friends, and I gave that up for what I thought at the time was a piece of ass."

Owen's words felt like a knife twisting in his gut, "A piece of ass? Dammit, Owen, I married her! She was my _wife_!" He let out a laugh that held no humor, "Christ, you should've just taken her...you would have saved me twenty years of hell."

_Wife?_ "What the hell is going on?" Janie demanded.

That finally got the attention of all of the people around her.

Owen's eyes were red-rimmed and damp when he answered, "Janie, Max was the friend."

Max couldn't hear what Owen was saying. He saw the man's lips moving, but his mind only registered the closeness of Owen's and Janie's bodies. The woman he loved, the woman he wanted more than air, was facing Owen with her hand on his shoulder. With jealousy and hurt to fuel his fire, Max threw the first and only punch, landing it square on Owen's jaw.

Owen used what looked like sheer will to keep himself standing and stared at Max, "You feel better now? I deserved that. I think I've been waiting for it for years."

Gage grabbed onto Max's arm to ensure his friend would stay his next punch, and Janie just stood there, stunned. She looked at Owen's face and watched a trickle of blood seep out of the angry cut on his mouth. Words flooded her brain. Her mind refused to put the pieces together.

Lyla saw her confusion and stroked her hand, the way she always did when Janie was upset and words wouldn't help. _So, it was true._

Janie turned to look at Max, "You were married?" She croaked.

Hurt and shame were etched on the features of Max's beautiful face as he nodded. But Janie refused to see those things—all she could see was the man who'd kept himself closed off and hidden. The man who refused her, left her, and turned her away.

Janie faced Owen and placed her palm on his bruised face, "You're bleeding. We need to go and take care of you." She reached over the partition and grabbed a napkin from their table, gently dabbing the open wound. Her heart was pounding as the levity of the situation began to process in her mind.

Trying to keep a steady hand as she tended to Owen, she spoke loud enough for her watchful audience to hear, "Owen, we've discussed this. You've beaten yourself up over the past for too long. It's time to let it go. Let's move on." She let Owen hold the napkin himself and turned to approach Max. His face was a canvas finally painted with emotions. _Funny_ , she thought, _I would have welcomed any one of those before today_. But now, now she was pissed.

Max watched as she took two purposeful strides towards him. He could see the hurt and anger blazing from her once tranquil eyes.

"You, Max DeLucca, are the son of a bitch." She could feel her heart thumping as if it were going to pound out of her chest, and her skin felt one size too small, "You didn't want me until you knew I was with someone else. You didn't 'love' me until you saw me sitting at a table with him!" She said, pointing her thumb back to Owen, "Now, you come beating your chest and declaring your love for me? How dare you." Her eyes pooled with tears that she refused to shed. "I gave you love, I gave you me. I gave you everything, and you took it. What did you give me back? _Nothing_ ," she screamed, not caring that spying eyes were everywhere. She pulled her fists down by her sides in hopes of keeping their trembling from being visible.

"I've known you for months. I considered you a close friend." The _more_ was silently implied, "And never, never once did you mention being married. I've known Owen a couple of weeks, and I know more about this Chloe from him than I ever knew about you." She stopped to catch her breath. She could feel sweat, and maybe even blood, in her palms from the force of her nails digging into the skin. "I kept thinking I understood, I kept thinking I would be okay with whatever you gave me, but you know what, Max?"

Janie didn't wait for answer before continuing, "The truth is you never trusted me with your past, your pain, or your heart." She laughed coldly at something, "Oh right, you told me you don't have a heart to give. Well, you got your point across. I believe you now."

She looked around at her friends who were watching her come undone and said, "I'm not sure what you all knew before coming here today"—she looked pointedly at Lyla—"I can only assume you knew nothing." Lyla nodded her answer, "I love each of you, I'm sure you tried your best to shield me from this...mess, but you, Max, you can get the hell out of my life. I am too Goddamn good for this shit." She turned and walked back toward Owen and linked her arm in his. "Come on; let's go get this checked out."

"Janie," Max pleaded.

She paused mid-step and looked back as her first tear fell, "Go to hell, Max" was all she said as she took long strides down the street to Owen's car.

MAX FELT HIS heart breaking. It was a feeling that he had never felt before. Not even after Chloe left him. Not even when she died. This was a pain that was unbearable, and he was the one who caused it. He wanted to follow Janie, wanted to make her understand that he loved her. He was choosing her, and he was willing to tell her everything. He was finally ready, but she chose someone else. He'd finally pushed her away hard enough to make her stop wanting him. How the hell was he going to get through this?

Standing there alone, silently, fists tight and mouth open on the sidewalk, in the middle of Charistown was not how he pictured this night ending. He was on sensory overload from everything that went down in the last twenty minutes. That's probably why he startled when a big hand landed on his shoulder.

"Gage," Max swallowed the large lump in his throat, "What the fuck?"

"Let her go for now, Max. Let's get out of this fishbowl and head to the pub across the street." When Max tried to argue, Gage shot him a look that asked for Max's faith in him, so he followed.

The pub was dimly lit and smelled like stale beer. The walls were lined with dart boards and holes associated with bad aim. It was late on a Monday so the crowd was thin, pared down to just the regulars and the staff. The two men walked stiffly to the back of the pub and sat at a table. With their asses barely hitting the seats, a waitress appeared, she was a twenty-something, over-bubbly little thing with a name tag that read _Roni_. Judging by the wide eyes and huge dimpled smile, Roni was very happy about her new table.

She tried to do some flirting and walked away looking defeated when she got nothing more than a drink order for four shots of whiskey and a pitcher of beer.

The duo sat in an uncomfortable silence until the first round came. As the glasses hit the table, Gage nodded his head, gesturing for Max to take the shot. When the amber liquid hit the back of his throat the burn came as a comfort more than a sting.

Before the second shot, Gage began to speak, "So, here's the deal, DeLucca. I've got a shitload to say, and it appears you've got nowhere to be."

"Gage, I don't have time for this...whatever the fuck _this_ is. I need to go find Janie and get her back," Max blurted.

"Max, you stubborn ass, there is no 'you and Janie.' You never truly _had_ her in the first place. You could have, but you screwed that up, my friend. You haven't gotten through your past...you haven't even been living in the present...so how the hell are you planning to get to your future?"

Gage's matter-of-fact tone had Max seeing red. Like a spring, he shot up and slammed his fist on the table, "After all of your touchy-feely lectures about letting myself love her, I finally do...and now you want me sit back and let her be with Owen fucking Michaels?"

Gage slowly stood and looked Max straight in the eyes, "You and I both know this isn't about Owen Michaels. She could have been with any other man. This is about you, Max, you! Now, sit down," he growled, "and listen to what I have to say. Because if you don't, I promise you, this time I _will_ walk away from you and never look back. Do you hear me? I am asking you as your brother and your best friend...this time, trust me."

At Gage's words, Max felt all of the anger seep out of his body. He heard what Gage was saying—and what he wasn't. When the choice came last time, Max chose Chloe, and he had chosen wrong. He would not make the same mistake again. Max slowly sat down on his chair and slid his fingers around the small glass in front of him.

After allowing the second shot to glide down his throat he quietly said, "Okay, Sebastian. I trust you."

Max watched as Gage allowed himself his first shot, quickly followed by the second. His friend had amazing self-control, so seeing him scrub his hands over his face made Max's insides twist with concern. _What could he possibly be gearing up to tell me?_ Max thought to himself.

"Max, I'm gonna say some stuff to you that I've been holding onto for years. And I hope—no, I pray—that on my judgment day these things can be overlooked due to the truth behind the words."

Max could see the honest torment that was at war inside his friend.

"The day Chloe died, I was relieved. She was in the ground and you weren't. I don't know what kind of person that makes me, but it's true. I hated that bitch." Gage's jaw clenched on the word _bitch_ , "She and my mother were cut from the same cloth, and I didn't want that for you. You were my best friend...my brother. And you know Owen wasn't the only one—there were so many others in high school and after."

With his mouth feeling like a desert, Max reached over and grabbed the pitcher, pouring himself and Gage each a pint of beer. He gulped down the cold liquid while trying to keep his focus on Gage's words and not allowing himself to travel back into the past.

"She was like a slow poison, dripping gradually into your system. She dismantled your life piece by piece, starting with your family, moving on to your friends, and ending with every shred of confidence and self-worth you possessed." Gage ran his fingers through his midnight hair, and Max could tell he was trying to tread lightly. "Owen was your friend, but he was eighteen, man. Come on. Yes, it was a dick move to sleep with your girl. He made a mistake, but she made horrible, selfish life choices the entire time you were together. She was taking you down, and you let her. We had dreams, Max. Do you even remember them? We were supposed to take over the Gage Garage and the Winston Track, and you let go of everything for her. You let her abuse you until there was nothing left of you but a shell, and that was before she even died."

For the first time in his life, Max felt every minute of his thirty-seven years. He closed his eyes and let out a huge sigh. Prying open his eyelids, his voice sounded defeated when he spoke. "Gage...I loved her. I thought I was making her happy. I wasn't enough for her, and I promised myself long ago that I would never make that mistake again. Come on man, you saw Janie tonight, she seemed fine. Maybe I should just let her go..."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Gage's raised voice brought a wide-eyed stare from the waitress, who was not so discreetly trying to eavesdrop from the bar, "So, let me get this straight. You'll fight till the death for Chloe, who took until there was nothing left of you to give. But you'll let a woman, who has asked for nothing but your love and your trust, just walk away?" He took a long pull from his beer before unfolding himself from the booth and glaring down at Max. "Wow, I was wrong. I guess we did bury you both that day. The drinks are on you...I've got nothing left to say."

Max watched as Gage walked through the bar and out into the night.

HE WASN'T SURE how much longer he sat there, but by the time he left there were two empty pitchers and four shot glasses cluttering his table. Gage's words looped in his mind as the past twenty years crashed into him like waves breaking on the shore before a storm. They had been a team, he and Gage, and they had planned to take on the world. He smiled at the memory that seemed like multiple lifetimes ago. His friend was right: Max had once been so strong and so determined. But where Gage had it wrong was that Chloe couldn't have taken what Max didn't allow. He kept going back to her because he thought she was the love of this life. Now, in that moment, all those years later, he felt the proverbial light bulb flash on. After being with Janie and feeling how natural their relationship felt, how comfortable they were around each other, he realized that it was his fear of failure that kept him going back to Chloe, not some great love. He let his great love walk away from him...again.

"No more," he said out loud, tossing enough cash on the table to cover the check and a very nice tip for Roni. _I'm done running away, and if she wants someone else, fine, but she at least needs to know how I really feel about her_.

He could feel the alcohol sloshing in his stomach on the cab ride back to his house. He made it to his bathroom just in time to be reacquainted with the whisky and beer and then got into his bed. _I've hurt a lot of people_ , he thought as his eyes began to close. _Tomorrow is gonna be a long day._

"HOW DOES THAT feel?" Janie gently pressed a cold pack to Owen's bruised jaw. With sad eyes, she watched as he placed his large hand over her smaller one and slowly removed it from his face. They sat on the sofa in the family room of his small house on Union Street.

"Janie, we need to talk." She knew the direction this conversation was heading, "It was Max, wasn't it?"

"What was Max?"

"When we first started talking, you said that you were falling for someone, but you were the only one falling. It was Max you were falling for, wasn't it?" The kindness in his voice told her that he was genuinely interested in her answer.

"Yeah, Owen, it was. Why are you asking?" She tried to keep her tone even, but her curiosity was piqued.

"Because I saw the way you looked at him tonight. And from the moment he approached the table to the very second we walked away, there was something in your eyes...something different." Janie tried to interrupt him, but he pressed on, "Something that isn't there when you look at me."

She almost denied it; she wanted to. It would have been so much easier to fall in love with Owen, but that isn't how her heart worked.

"I'm really sorry, Owen. I was going to tell you tonight when you offered me a penny for my thoughts...I wouldn't have even taken your money," she smiled shyly.

"I know this isn't my business, but I would still like to consider you my friend. And as a friend, I'm telling you to try to go easy on him. I don't know what went down after high school because I left town, but I can tell you that Chloe was as evil as they came when I knew her. I can only imagine how much worse it got as they got older."

Janie squeezed his hand, "Owen, you are an amazing man, and of course, we will still be friends. But Max can't be an option for me. I don't doubt that Chloe was as bad as you say she was. I feel bad for him, I do, but he never let me into that part of his life. He never even gave me a chance. I can't deal with that kind of relationship anymore. I won't."

"I understand. You are a pretty special woman, Janie Silver." He walked her to the door, and they hugged goodnight.

***

Is This A Bribe?

THE SUNLIGHT STREAMED into Max's room and woke him from the best sleep he could remember having in more than ten years. It was a sound, dreamless slumber that left him feeling well rested and surprisingly refreshed. The previous night still felt surreal. After he finally came to terms with the fact that he was in love with Janie, he'd found her with another man, he received a verbal ass-kicking from Gage, and then proceeded to watch his beer go down the hatch and then back up for a good portion of the night. Yet, he still felt clearer than he had in ages, like the cobwebs were finally knocked out of his skull.

He felt alive. He felt free. He felt like an asshole, and he knew he had some major apologizing to do to several of the important people in his life. If he was to ever get Janie to forgive him for the hell he had put her through for the past several weeks—okay, the past seven months, really—he had to do something. And he knew he couldn't do it alone. He needed a hand, and he knew exactly who to beg for help.

Excitement swirled through him; he just needed the right kind of bribery. But first, there was someone he needed to call.

Palming his phone off the nightstand, he lay in bed and dialed the number that was almost as familiar as his own.

"Did you finally pull you head out of your ass?" The gravelly voice asked.

"How many apologies does one person get before you cut him out for life?" Max answered.

"You'll never know, my brother...you'll never know." The sound of Gage's laugh instantly eased the tension that Max didn't realize he was feeling. Putting his arm behind his head, he stared out his window, focusing on the cloudless sky and the trees in the throes of autumn foliage.

"You're sounding lazy, Max. Get out of bed. You have a shitload of groveling to do today." Gruff laughter filled the phone just before the dead air hit.

"I KNOW, HONEY, I know. Yes, he is a fucker." Lyla stretched out on the couch with her phone tucked between her shoulder and her ear, listening to Janie rant and swing from one mood to the next.

"I mean, seriously, _now_ he _loves_ me? You know he said he loved me, right?" Sarcastic Janie was one of Lyla's favorites.

"Yes, Jane. I was there. I heard the whole thing."

"He didn't _love_ me last week. He only said it because Owen was there. Why not just pee on my leg for Christ's sake?"

"Jane, he did love you last week. And speaking of Nice Owen, did you give him the friends speech or not? Because you certainly looked a little more than friendly last night."

Janie winced at Lyla's tone. She knew she had poured on the sweet when Max showed up, swinging from his vine like Tarzan, but she couldn't help it. "Oh, Ly, I felt so bad."

_Uh oh_ , Lyla thought reaching for her coffee, _here comes Sad Janie again_.

"I didn't even have to tell him. Pretty much as soon as we got back to his house he asked me about my feelings for Max. He said he could see the love in my eyes or some shit like that."

"Janie, warn me before you say things like that!" Lyla gasped, "I almost shot hot coffee out of my nose, and that would have hurt." Lyla heard a small laugh peal out of her phone. She had to admit, Janie was kind of entertaining when she was in mood-swing mode.

"I just can't believe that son of a bitch decides he finally wants me, and I'm supposed to what? Jump for joy?" Which is exactly what her traitorous heart did when Max showed up, professing his love to her. Well, not to her; he told Owen. " _Hmph_! He couldn't even tell me he was married? Honestly, Ly, who does that?"

"Jane, my doorbell is ringing," Lyla said as the bell rang for the second time, "And I'm expecting a delivery. Sorry. Please drive carefully and come by after work. We can talk about it more over pizza and cocktails."

Disconnecting the call, Lyla opened her door to a very sorry-looking Max DeLucca. Grinning, she backed away from her door, leaving it open, and headed down the hallway to her kitchen.

Max looked into her house from the doorway but didn't make a move to enter. Was this a set-up? He had heard about the things Lyla Dalton was capable of when angry, and he knew that she had to be pretty fucking pissed at him right about now. Were their hookers waiting to pounce on him? Had she hired thugs to beat him down? Was she going to poison him? He expected nothing less from Lyla, and he deserved nothing more. He had a lot of apologizing to do just to get him within earshot of Janie, and then the real work would start.

"Max, you gonna stand out there all day? Get your pathetic ass in here and shut the door." Lyla's smirk turned into a mega-watt smile.

What was so funny? He cautiously entered the house, closing the door with his booted foot and presented her with a large, golden box tied with a brown bow. Her brow curved curiously as her hands greedily accepted the gift.

"Is this a bribe?"

Max grimaced and shrugged his broad shoulders, "It's more like a 'thank you' in advance?" She immediately opened the lid, lifted a raspberry truffle out of its sleeve and took a bite. Her eyes slid closed as she savored the divine flavor of crushed raspberries and dark chocolate melting on her tongue.

"Yes, Max, I'll help you." She opened her eyes as she swallowed the little piece of heaven, "But my assistance has nothing to do with your bribe, err... _thank you_. I knew you would come to me eventually." Her smile was knowing, "And I promised myself that when you finally woke up, I would be here to help you clean up the clusterfuck you got yourself into." With his shoulders slumped in resignation, she continued, "Before you think I'm doing this just for Janie, know that I'm doing it for you, too. I can feel your pain. You've been wearing it like a second skin since the day we met, and the closer you and Janie have gotten, the more bruised it's become. And Janie is the answer...your answer."

Leaning over the counter, Lyla gripped her hands over his forearms and brought her face as close to his as her height would allow, "But you need to think good and hard about what you want...because if you ever hurt her again, the way you have been recently...well, let's just say, you'll think poor Dick had it easy. We clear?"

Max silently nodded his agreement.

"Words, Max, I need words." Lyla grinned again.

"We are very clear, Lyla...very, very clear."

Happy with the amount of fear and gratitude she sensed exuding off of Max, she handed him a mug of coffee and walked out of the kitchen.

As he followed her into the family room, a wave of excitement coursed through his system. If she was willing to help him he may have a chance of getting Janie to hear him out. That's all he wanted: just a chance to make things right.

"You haven't touched your coffee," she said, nodding to the mug she'd placed on the table in front of him.

"Ly, no offense," he scoffed sheepishly, "but I'm not sure I want to drink anything you're offering me right now."

"Don't be a dumbass. I already told you I want to see you and Janie together. Why would I kill you?" Leaning on the heel of her hand, she tapped her index finger against the side of her brow thoughtfully. "Besides, you're a big guy—how would I get rid of your body?"

Max's jaw dropped, and Lyla broke out in hysterics, "I'm just fucking with you...Jesus, Max, what do you think of me?"

"I think you're the scariest five-foot-one-inch woman I have ever met." He snorted, and then awareness clicked in, "Wait...you said you want me and Janie together. What about Owen? Isn't she with him?" That last part came through gritted teeth and a clenched jaw.

"Relax, Max. You're gonna crack a tooth. There isn't really anything going on between Janie and Nice O. But don't tell her I told you that."

"Nice O?" Max's perplexed face would have made Lyla laugh if she didn't know how much he was hurting over his past. Clearly Max didn't put that particular adjective in front of Owen's name.

"Never mind that. So, tell me your plan to win my girl back...and it best be good because she is really upset and equally pissed and has every right to be."

Max figured it was best to start his story from the beginning. So he did. And as he talked about his past and shared his heartache, he could see a multitude of emotions play over Lyla's face. He could see her relating to certain parts of his story while aching at others. When he spoke of his parents' love and support, he swore her eyes began to water, but she quickly went to the kitchen for more coffee, and when she returned her eyes were clear and dry. When he told her about Gage's unwavering friendship, he watched a small smile pull at her lips, and he wondered if she was thinking about her relationship with Janie or if her thoughts had also gone to Gage.

By the time he had finished he felt emotionally exhausted but relieved. Sharing his story felt like shedding a hundred pounds; he was finally letting someone else into his world, and he wasn't running away. It felt...good.

"THANK YOU FOR opening up and sharing your story with me." Tightness coiled in her belly. _Let people in_ , she could hear Janie whispering in her ear.

_Max just took a huge leap of faith with me_ , Lyla thought. _I can take a small step for him. Just a small one_ , she promised herself, "If you want to be honest, I'm grateful. Because I think I can help you. But before I do, there are a few things I should probably tell you about me."

Max sat quietly, afraid speaking would make her stop talking, so he just nodded.

Lyla smiled tightly, small drops of perspiration lining her spinal column, "Max, I keep my private life _private_. I don't like to share it. I can't share it. I can't answer questions, and I won't. That's why Janie and I are as close as we are. She understands what I can give, and she accepts it. In return, I give her more than I have ever given anyone in my life. She's the best person I have ever met and she deserves no less."

Her pointed stare was not lost on Max, neither was the fact that her face had gone slightly pale and a sheen of sweat glistened near her hairline; but he kept his observations to himself.

"I know I hurt her, Ly, and I will spend forever trying to make it up to her. I love her; I'm _in love_ with her. Please help me."

Lyla looked down at the black-and-white carpet and then back into Max's eyes. She swiped her hand across her forehead, removing the dampness that had begun to trickle down her temple, "So no questions about the things I don't say, okay?"

He nodded silently.

"I never won the lottery, Max. Let's just say, I never won the lottery in any part of my life." Lyla's blue eyes were flat and cold. They sent a shiver up his back, but he stayed silent, "But I did come into some money once. I invested that money, and then used some of it to put myself through college. After school, I didn't know what to do with myself, though, so I started writing stories, and to my surprise, I sold one of them, and then another and another. As they say, the rest is history." Lyla sat there and let Max process the information. After a minute or so Max's eyes grew round like baseballs.

" _Lyla_! You're an _author_?" For the first time since meeting her, Max watched shyness cross over Lyla's face, "Holy shit, Ly! I...I don't know what to say. So, you don't write a column?" Lyla shook her head, "You're writing books?" Lyla mutely nodded. "What kind of books? Mystery, horror, adventure?"

Lyla took in a deep breath, "Romance."

At her admission, Max started laughing. He laughed so hard he slipped off the sofa and onto the floor; it was uncontrollable.

"You do remember that you're here to ask for my help, right?" Lyla's sarcasm was gentled by her smile.

"I'm sorry; it's just that you are the least touchy-feely romantic person I know. I need to read your books. Do you have your heroine's gag the heroes when they don't listen?" He continued to chuckle.

"If the situation warrants it," Lyla said without a trace of humor.

Max immediately stopped laughing, but his grin grew into a huge smile, "Really?"

Now it was Lyla's turn to laugh, "Sometimes. But that isn't why I told you this, Max. Bring your dirty little mind back to the table," she said as she walked over to her massive bookcase and chose a few selections from the far right corner.

Max watched her expression change from eager to anxious the closer she got to him. By the time she handed him the books she looked positively pea colored.

"Who's L.P. Jodes?" He asked, looking at the cover.

"Like I said, I like to keep my private life private. L.P Jodes is my pen name. Jodes was my mother's maiden name." Her eyes were downcast as she made the admission, something so small and so big at the same time. _That wasn't so horrible_ , she thought as she swallowed back the bile that had been climbing the back of her throat. _I can let people in...a little._ And when Max did as promised and kept his questions to only book-related topics, she felt herself ease even more. She knew it was only a matter of time before she shared this one small part of her life with the other new members of her family from Danny's. She had so many secrets to keep; it would feel wonderful to let one off her shoulders.

"Lyla, I'm really happy that we had this time to talk, and I'm even happier that I still have all of my body parts intact. But what does any of this"—he held up her books—"have to do with my getting Janie back? Especially if she's with..." The muscles in his jaw tightened. "Owen."

Swiping the paperbacks from his hand, she wacked him in the side of his head, "Pay attention, Max! She's not with Owen! And she not with you, either. Why is that, you ask? Because you're a man, and you don't listen!" Spreading the novels out on the coffee table, Lyla made an exaggerated sweeping motion, "You've kept her from learning your story. Yes, she fell in love with the you that you did show her, but you never really opened your book and gave her more. Tell her your story, Max. Tell her how you became the man that you are, and then give her the happy ending that you both deserve."

JANIE'S HEELS CLANKED as they hit each metal step on the way up to her apartment on Wednesday afternoon. The noise, while never bothering her before, grated on her nerves. If she was being truthful, everything grated on her nerves the past two days. The students were too loud, the teachers were too chatty, Owen was too quiet, the sun was too bright. "I should've called out sick," she grunted to the empty stairwell.

Monday night had been horrible. How could she have spent as much time with Max—and the rest of the gang for that matter—and not learn anything real about his past? Why didn't he ever trust her enough to share with her?

Familiar pangs of insecurity pinged through her mind. It always came back to her not being good enough, worthy enough to deserve more. An ache formed in her stomach as the throbbing pain in her head continued its assault. With her messenger bag draped over her shoulder, her empty travel mug in one hand, and her keys in the other, she walked to the end of the walkway toward her apartment.

It wasn't until she was right in front of the door that she noticed the basket with a pale blue bow resting against her door.

"What the..." Bewildered, she unlocked her apartment door and carelessly dropped her things at the entrance. Twisting around the open door, she reached for the basket and pulled it inside. With decorative grass floating out of the sides and the products placed slightly askew, Janie began to question its sender.

Sliding down onto the floor, she began to unwrap the unexpected—and unwarranted—gift. She spun the dial on the lock in her thoughts, trying to come up with the right combination. With her mind on the _why_ , she wasn't thinking about the _what_ as her hands blindly swept along the products in the basket. It wasn't until her thumb stroked over the label on the lotion that she heard the proverbial _click_. It was _her_ lotion, the same lotion Lyla always gave to her.

Excitement fueled her hands as she sorted through the basket of treasure, lifting out shampoo, conditioner, and body wash—all in the same fragrance. _Why would Lyla send this to me?_ The thought struck her head at the same time her hand hit the thick envelope at the bottom of the basket. When she saw her name written in masculine print across the front of the envelope, she felt breathless.

"Max," she whispered, as if saying his name louder would make him materialize. After Monday, though, she wasn't sure which would make her happier: if he actually appeared or if he didn't.

Unscrewing the lid of the lotion, Janie inhaled a lungful of the coconut-and-lime concoction. She let her eyes drift closed as the fragrance engulfed her senses. It didn't go unnoticed that her own scent would now remind her of him, and that made her heart break just a little bit more.

Forcing herself to stand up, she locked her door and carried the basket to her bedroom and climbed into bed. She had a feeling she was going to need some comfort to get through whatever the envelope contained.

Janie wrapped her favorite pink, chenille blanket around herself and brought the bottle to her nose once again, allowing the sweet, tropical smell take her back to the days she and Max spent together as friends and the two scorching nights they spent together as lovers. The envelope stared at her, daring her to open it. Her fingers twitched at the flap, the unknown somehow seeming less frightening than dealing with whatever the words inside had to say.

"Oh fuck it," she huffed, as her head quickly reminded her of the events that took place the night before. _He hurt you_ , she told herself. _He locked you out and made you look like a fool. And now that he thinks he's lost you, he finally decides he wants you. No. Not okay. Just read his damn letter, and then put it behind you. Move on, Janie._

Before her bravado could dissipate, she tore open the sheath to reveal pages and pages of Max's handwritten words. _Stay strong_ , her mind repeated loudly as the thrumming of her heart started to increase. With her knees bent up to provide the support her shaking hands couldn't, she started to read.

Dear Janie,

I may have ruined our chance to have the kind of relationship that I truly desire with you, but our friendship means the world to me, and it kills me to know that I have caused you so much pain. I know I left you in the dark. While you gave me an open and honest book, I left my cover tightly closed.

Please, Janie, let me try to fix what I have broken. You were right that night in my driveway—you are worth so much more than one step. I would like to come to you...one step at a time.

She drew her legs closer to her chest and stared at the words, trying to absorb their meaning. An array of emotions washed over her as she teetered between feeling giddy that he was ready to share with her and angry that he waited until he thought she had moved on to reveal what he'd kept hidden for so long. She was no stranger to secrets. She respected people's privacy and knew when not to pry, but last night made her feel like a fool. She had spent months falling in love with a stranger, and her pride was more than bruised—it felt demolished.

Sucking in a deep breath, she looked down to the letter on her lap and began to read some more.

I guess the best place to start is at the beginning. So please, Janie, I know I am asking a lot, but if I could ask for one more thing...Please be patient, and let me explain how I became the man that was dumb enough to let you go.

I've lived my whole life here in Charistown with my parents and my sister. Sebastian Gage—the dark and broody-looking guy who usually sits in the corner of the bar most Thursday nights—has been my best friend since I can remember. His family owns the garage here in town and the nearby Winston's Track. He and I spent our childhood, and most of our twenties, working together and planning for when we would run both businesses together. Gage isn't just my friend—he's my brother, like Lyla is your sister, and I would do anything for him and he for me.

My senior year of high school a new girl moved into town. Chloe was a beauty queen even without the title, and to be honest, it was love at first sight...for me. Or so I thought.

I thought this girl was the sun and the moon, so when Gage and my family started questioning our relationship, I began to push them away instead of looking at her, or even at myself, for the problems they were seeing. They told me she was manipulating me; I said I thought she was just insecure. They said she was conniving; I was convinced she loved me as much as I loved her. So when she begged me not to go away to college because she feared I would meet someone else, I proved my love by staying here in Charistown and going to the community college. I was blinded by my devotion to her. Little did I know, I was the only one unsighted.

Janie, I am going to stop this letter here. Please understand that I am not doing it to be cruel. I will tell you the entire story over the next couple of days, but I have been holding onto it for twenty years. You deserve it all—I just need to give it one piece at a time.

Yours,

Max

Meticulously folding the letter, Janie slipped it back in its holder and placed it on her dresser. Indescribable feelings started pelting her body like paintballs, exploding on contact and leaving her marred in so many colors that she just felt grey. Knowing that Lyla could help or at least make her laugh, she grabbed her phone and dialed her friend. She wanted to cry when Lyla's voice mail told her to leave a message.

"Lyla! Where the hell are you? Max may have lost his mind, and he's taking me with him. Ly, please don't let me go down with him," she begged, "Call me back."

Within one minute she received a text from Lyla:

Hey J. On Skype with my agent...quick project came up. Go with the flow and follow ur heart not ur head. I luv u, L

Follow my heart not my head? Who is she, Confucius all of a sudden?

Annoyed by Lyla's response, she called the one other person she knew who would give it to her straight.

"Hey, Ash," she said when her friend answered, "Can you come over? I really need you."

"Of course, honey. I have to get out of my place anyway. Ryan recently learned that playing his guitar to his cheesy groupie whores will get his dick sucked quicker."

Janie recoiled at the bite in her friend's tone. _Poor Ashley, she has it bad and refuses to admit it._

"Thanks, Ash. Should I run down and get us some coffee?"

"Only if mine has Baileys in it," Ashley retorted, "Just kidding...kind of. Coffee would be great. I'll be over in ten minutes."

WITHIN FIFTEEN MINUTES, both Ashley and Janie were tucked up on the couch, draped in soft throw blankets, sipping their coffee.

"So, green streaks today, huh?" Janie reached over to touch the silky jade locks that would have looked ridiculous on anyone else, but looked perfect on Ashley.

With an eye roll and a snort, Ashley tucked the loose streak behind her ear, "We're here to talk about _you_."

"Nice diversion tactic, Ash. One day soon it'll be your turn, you know. But you're right." A huge sigh escaped Janie's mouth as she handed over Max's letter. Watching Ashley's blank facial expression as she read Max's words left Janie feeling frustrated and agitated. Those feelings doubled when Ash folded the pages and gave them back to her without saying anything.

"Go on, Jane, talk. You look like your head is about to explode."

As if someone stuck a pin in a balloon and let it go, Janie stood up and started pacing the small room. "Did you know about any of this?" She finally asked after a minute of awkward silence, "Did you know he was married? Did you know about this Chloe? Do you know what she did to him? Because, all I have is this....this _note_. It's not even a note—it's a Cliffs note!"

Ashley's face showed Janie the answer. _Affirmative_.

"How could you know and not tell me? I thought we were friends. I let you in, and you've watched me beat myself up over this. Why didn't you tell me anything?" Hot tears traveled down Janie's cheeks as she continued to walk circles on the carpet. Anger and hurt were things she could manage, but she felt humiliated. She trusted Max _and_ Ashley, and now she felt like they had both betrayed her.

"Janie, sweetie, you need to turn around and look at me." Ashley's voice was kind, but there was no mistaking the command as a request.

Janie pivoted and looked at the woman she had also grown to love. Ashley's eyes were glassy with unshed tears, but her face held a determination that demanded to be heard. Janie sat back down on the couch, wrapping herself up in her pink shield.

"I've been at Danny's for almost six years. When I first started I had my own things going on, so I didn't really pay attention to what was happening around me, but when I finally started to take notice, what I saw was a line of women who were interested Max. As much of a man-whore as Kyle was, Max was different. He didn't flaunt his abilities; he just owned them, and women came from near and far to get a taste of Max DeLucca."

Janie fidgeted, pulling the blanket tighter. Her stomach felt queasy.

Ashley must have sensed her discomfort because Janie felt the warmth of her friend's hand gently cover her own, "Janie, you asked the questions, and you need to hear the answers. They aren't easy to take in, but you still need to hear them, okay?"

Janie nodded silently, and Ashley continued, "When Ryan came to live with me, after...well, just after...he also started working at Danny's, and he became one of the guys; which by extension made me one of the guys, too. They would forget I had a vagina and talk in front of me." Ashley paused a beat, "I can see it in your eyes, Jane. I know you want me to tell you all that I know, but I can't. It's not for me to tell. Did it break my heart watching what was going on between you and Max? Yes. But if I had to do it again..." She stopped and looked sadly into Janie's eyes, "I would do exactly what I did."

"You should have warned me, though, Ash. I felt like a fool falling for someone who wasn't even available. I feel like you knew what was coming and didn't even try to move me out of the way."

"That's not fair, Janie. I did try. I told you the night we went out. I told you he was closed up tight. I told you to walk away, because while I love and respect Max like a brother––" Ashley's eyes filled with tears. Janie watched Ashley take shallow breaths and then clear her throat before she continued to speak, "I love you like a sister. I didn't want you to suffer while he was trying to figure his shit out. He needed to go through his journey, but you needed to go through yours as well. You've had your own issues to deal with.

"So, no, I wouldn't have done things differently because it had to be this way. I'm sorry if that hurt you, Jane. It was never meant to make you feel like you couldn't trust me. If you think about it, you'll see how much you can. I know you think I could have paved your way and somehow made it easier, but now you're armed with a proverbial backpack, and it's filled with everything you need to survive. Just keep going. I promise, no matter what happens, I'll be there in the end with French fries and milkshakes."

"What do I do with this then?" Janie asked holding the envelope.

"Let him come to you, Janie.... That is, if you still want him." Finishing off her coffee, Ashley leaned over and kissed Janie's head. "I have to get over to the bar. My shift starts in an hour. Do you forgive me?" The look of sincerity on Ashley's face tugged at Janie's heartstrings.

"Yeah, you're right. I shouldn't have heard any of it from you. This was Max's history. Had he wanted me to know sooner, he would have told me. Clearly, he didn't." She sighed, "But where you're concerned, all is forgiven. I'm really sorry I lost my shit on you." With a smile and a wink, Ashley left Janie's apartment.

***

Circus Peanuts

_THANK GOD, FOR Gage_ , Max thought as he made another loop around the track. Gage was working at the garage, but thanks to him the staff at Winston's knew that Max could come and drive whenever there was open track time. Stretching his neck from right to left, he tried again, unsuccessfully, to relieve the tension that had been residing there since Monday night; or as he took to calling it, "Monday Night Madness."

He hadn't expected it to be easy to win Janie back, but not knowing whether she'd read his letter or burned it, was its own brand of torture. And Lyla—he let out a quick chuckle when he thought of their call earlier that morning—had said she would help him, but she, under no circumstances, would she tell him any of Janie's thoughts or reactions to his "wooing."

_Wooing_. He laughed out loud—he was going to _woo_ like he'd never _wooed_ before.

He felt a knot form in his stomach. He'd never had this much on the line before, he realized as he pressed the gas pedal to the pad. Well, it didn't matter anyway because he had set his plan in motion, and the only way he would stop it was if Janie herself asked him to.

Sweat trickled down his temples onto the collar of his shirt. He wasn't sure if the perspiration was from the heat of the car or the past he was about to reveal. Swallowing down his fear, he looked ahead and continued to drive.

"LOOK, LY, I am not in the mood to go out, but being that it is Thursday night, and you're standing here looking all sexy, I will. I will _not_ , however, go to Danny's. I love Danny, but if he's angry, that's just tough shit. I can't be around Max right now."

"Jane..."

"Don't Jane me." Exasperated, she continued, "You read his letter. It says a little but not much, and it's not good enough. I am angry, hurt, pissed off, and sexually frustrated. No Danny's!"

"Ok toddler Jane," Lyla sighed with a grin, "Let's go to Chopper's."

"But—"

"No _buts_. You had your one veto. So we're going to Chopper's." Janie dropped her keys in her purse, and they started their brisk walk to the bar, "How have things been at school between you and Nice O?" Lyla sucked at discrete topic transitions.

"Owen's great. Tuesday and Wednesday were a little awkward, but by today things seemed pretty good between us. He really is a ni—" Janie stopped mid-sentence and looked at Lyla. They were strolling on the sidewalk up to the bar when the laughter burst out of them like bubbles.

"Say it, Janie. Go on, you know you want to!" Lyla's smile was infectious.

"Fine!" Janie squealed, "He's _nice_! He really is a nice fucking guy! He _is_ Nice O. He's kind and sweet, he's been sympathetic. Today he even told me he was there for me if I wanted to talk. My God, Ly, why can't I fall in love with _him_?"

Janie didn't realize how loud she had been speaking until they entered Choppers and dozens of stares landed directly on her. She could feel her cheeks getting warm as she heard her trusty sidekick trying to contain her giggle.

"Shut it, Ly!" She walked up to the nearest empty bar stool and planted her embarrassed ass down, "Margarita, please. Rocks, no salt; and give Giggles over here the same with salt." Lyla started howling, and Janie couldn't help but join her.

"Ladies, this round is from those gentlemen over there." The beefy, tattooed bartender with the cigarette-strained voice thumbed his huge arm in the direction of two grinning men standing by the pool tables. The women raised their glasses toward them, nodded their appreciation, and settled back into their conversation.

"So, the redhead on the left is pretty hot," Lyla said to Janie as she winked at the man who sent over her drink. "Hello? Earth to Janie!"

The sharp pinch to her triceps snapped Janie out of her reverie, "I'm sorry, Ly. I told you I would be crappy company. Maybe I should just go home."

"Stay put, girlie." Lyla hopped down from the stool and sashayed over to the jukebox. She was gone for several minutes before returning to the bar and grabbing Janie's hand, "Let's go."

"Where to? And how many songs did you pick?" Janie questioned with a raised brow and a crooked smile.

A devilish grin swept over Lyla's face, and her blue eyes twinkled, "I chose enough songs to keep your sweet ass here for at least an hour," Lyla said as Maroon 5's "One More Night" pumped out of the speakers, "Now, let's go play some pool. Nick and Greg are waiting for us."

"Wait, who?"

"IF YOU KEEP running your hands through your hair like that you're gonna be bald by the end of the night, my man," Ryan teased.

"It's just...I can't believe they didn't come tonight. I don't think they've missed a Thursday in seven months." Images of Janie sitting at the bar, laughter dancing in her eyes, the sweet sound of her voice echoing, flashed through his memory. What was he going to do if she didn't forgive him? A strong wave of nausea washed over him.

"Max, honey." He felt a small, warm hand rub across his upper back. He turned to come face-to-face with Ashley, "Give her some time." He always thought of Ashley as a sassy and fun little sister, and right now, her presence gave him comfort when he needed it most.

"Do you think?" His voice was soft, his muscles tight.

"I do. You took your time getting to where you needed to be. Give her a couple of days and then"—if Max wasn't so miserable he would have laughed at the fierce look Ashley gave him—"if she hasn't come to you...you go to her and you fight down-and-dirty to get her. You do _not_ take no for an answer. She loves you, Max. Give her time."

"Listen to Princess," Ryan said, flicking Ashley's blonde-and-green-streaked hair.

Max watched as Ashley's face blushed and her eyes narrowed into slits. "Get off me, Ryan. I've seen where your hands have been, and _ick_!" She looked back at Max. "Hey, Max, it's not crazy busy here tonight, Romeo and I can handle it. Go ask Danny if you can leave. No offense, but you look like shit and it's not good for tips." She winked and blew him a kiss before moving on to her customers.

"Yeah, what she said," Ryan agreed.

After clearing it with Danny, Max grabbed his things and left the bar knowing he had one stop to make before heading home for the night.

"LYLA, I HATE to ruin the party, but I've gotta head home. It's a school night." Janie ignored the disapproving look she received for using her patented excuse. The fact was that she had things on her mind, namely Max, and she wanted to go home and try to sort them out. She watched as Lyla whispered something in the redhead's ear and then strode past the pool table over to Janie.

"Let's go, Miss Silver," she said, pulling Janie outside, "I'll see you to your cab."

"Are you taking Nick home tonight?" Janie tried to hide the worry in her voice but knew she did a poor job when she saw Lyla's expression.

"Come on, Jane, I'm having fun. He's hot and sexy. That's what I want, right?"

"Bullshit. He's not _who_ you want, and we both know it."

Some of the sparkle faded from Lyla's eyes, "This is what's good for me right now."

"Okay.... Be safe. I love you." She watched as Lyla wandered back into Chopper's.

THE AUTUMN BREEZE caused goose bumps to run up her bare arms as Janie walked from the cab to the stairs of her apartment building. She breathed in a lungful of the crisp, cool air. This was her favorite time of the year. She loved to watch the leaves change from the bright, neon green to the reds, yellows, and oranges. The front of her apartment looked out on a park, and during the day, she could see the big, beautiful trees glisten in the sun. Even in the dark, her head turned automatically to face the direction of the park.

That was why she didn't see the package sitting by her door until she tripped over it.

"What the hell?" Was followed immediately by, "Oh my...Max?" She whispered his name a little louder, but crickets and the hum of traffic were the only sounds that answered her call.

_Yep, this is definitely from him_ , she thought as she crouched down to pick up the cellophane-wrapped package tied with the same blue ribbon as the one from the day before. Through the clear wrap, a stainless-steel travel mug monogrammed with a J was proudly waiting for her, along with a Starbucks gift card and another thick envelope. She felt foolish as she walked into her apartment, locked the door behind her, went through her bedtime routine, and got into bed all while carrying the package with her, like a child with a security blanket. Thoughts of Linus and his little, blue blanket made her smile, and she finally settled into bed and unwrapped the gift.

Stroking the mug's smooth steel, Max's voice tickled her memory. _I'll go get you a Grande...lots of cream and two sweeteners, right?_

The warmth of the recollection was quickly cooled when she remembered the strange, impassive look on his face when he had returned with her coffee and left her immediately. Feeling unsettled, she unsealed the envelope and began to read the enclosed pages.

Dear Janie,

I'm not sure if you read my first letter, or even if this one will find its way into your kind and gentle hands, but I need want to continue to share my past with you so you can see why I tried so hard to keep it buried.

Chloe and I were together for years. She didn't have any friends besides me the whole time. Looking back, that should have been a huge red flag, but she claimed to only want me. I loved her, so I spent my time with her too. My parents no longer approved of our relationship, so she requested that we not associate with them. I loved my parents. I couldn't let them go, but for Chloe's sake, we no longer spent holidays or special occasions with them. Her parents didn't seem to approve of me either. When I asked her about it, she would tell me they were snobs and not to worry about them. Never once did she deny that they hated me, so in my mind, it was the truth. Slowly, over the years, our circle of friends and family became smaller and smaller. Honestly, Janie, I was okay with it. I loved her. If she was happy, I was happy.

When she got pregnant, I was so excited. I'd always wanted to be a father and to have a family. So, when she miscarried I was heartbroken. Chloe acted strange after that, and I thought she was still mourning the loss of the pregnancy. I went to a bed and breakfast to book us a room for the following weekend and found her leaving with her lover. That was the first time I learned that Chloe was cheating on me.

_Yes, you read correctly—the_ first _time._

She promised she would never do it again. She begged me to forgive her and swore that it was only me she loved. She blamed her infidelity on the miscarriage, and I guess after losing our baby and my dream of becoming a father, I wanted to blame it on that too, so I took her back. I allowed myself to continue loving her because I couldn't lose that dream also. I didn't know any other way to live.

I'm not sure how many men there were between the first one I caught her with and the last one Gage caught her with, but I can only imagine there were several. But when Gage came to me and told me that he saw my wife with another man and that she had tried to seduce Gage himself, I lost it. I broke up our friendship, and we didn't speak for three years. I lost my best friend, my job, my dreams, my family...I lost it all, and all over her. I was depressed and in a bad place. And that was when I found Danny's on Main.

Janie, I'm going to stop here for tonight. I've given you a lot of my past, but sad to say, the worst is yet to come. I can't imagine what you must be thinking. I'm here if you want to talk. If not, I understand. One step at a time...right?

Love,

Max

JANIE'S EYES FELT dry and coarse like sandpaper when the alarm clock bleeped on Friday morning. She had been up all night reading and re-reading Max's letter until the words started bleeding together. His written words both tore at her heart and brought out her own vulnerability when it came to love. She spent twenty-eight years searching for someone to give her the kind of affection that Max had so easily given to his wife, only for her to disrespect and abuse it. The whole notion made Janie feel physically ill.

That sick feeling lessened her guilt when she called out of work. If ever there was a need for a mental health day, this was it. She felt emotionally drained, physically exhausted, and utterly confused. If someone would have told her a month ago that this is where she would be now, she may have stuck with the boring, unfulfilling losers she'd been dating. Sure, they were dull, cheating assholes, but her heart was never involved with those men. This thing with Max was something else entirely.

She really needed a "personal day," so she called out of work feeling a bit guilty, but relieved to spend her day alone. She would get a pedicure, read a romance novel, and maybe watch a movie, but first she needed some sleep. She sent Lyla a text informing her of her Janie Day and said they would chat later.

Closing the shades blocked out the happiness of the sun and she allowed herself to climb back into the darkness and warmth of her bed. After a half hour of trying, sleep finally claimed her.

MAX LOOKED AROUND the Gage Garage, wiping fresh oil on his jeans to answer his phone. No one but Gage knew that he was co-owner of this place thanks to the money Chloe's parents gave him. While the money itself filled him with anguish, this garage had always brought him so much peace. Working with his hands was what he always dreamed of doing. The smell of grease and the sounds of metal brought him back to a time in his childhood when he and Gage used to watch the mechanics rebuilding engines. Even at their young age, they knew that someday this place would be theirs.

After his life had been shattered, Max began to use the pieces to resurrect the walls around his heart. Everything that could hurt him was left on the outside, including the garage. He had all but stopped working with Gage and doing the one job that fulfilled him. Since meeting Janie, though, his visits became more frequent, and over the past couple of weeks he had been working close to forty hours at the garage while still keeping his Thursday nights shifts at Danny's so he could see Janie.

"Max, are you even listening to me?" Lyla's voice snapped at him on the other end of the line.

"No, Ly, what did you say?" He held the phone closer to his ear.

"Our girl took a mental-health day today. Max, I've known Janie for ten years. That girl _never_ takes off unless she is puking, and I know she isn't sick. Step up your game. She's hurting...I'm hurting...guess who's next?!"

"Seriously, Lyla," Max said with a laugh, "If I didn't know better, I would swear you worked for the mob. Rein it in. I'm doing the best I can. I love her, but I can't rush this. She wanted to know my past, and there is a lot to tell. Besides, have you finished your part?"

Lyla cleared her throat, "It will be ready for you tomorrow."

"Thanks, Ly. I owe you big."

"Yeah," she said, "You definitely do."

When they disconnected the call, Max looked at the blank screen. _Yeah, he was gonna have to work on that situation once he got his own life squared away_. In the meantime, he had another letter to write.

The last piece of his history made him sick, though. Those final days were like living purgatory. His disgust for Chloe ran deep, and had she not died in that accident he would have finally left her. The fact that her death took away his chance to choose to let her go made him angry, and that anger filled him with shame.

"DeLucca. You okay, brother?" Gage's face was mapped with worry, "Your jaw is squeezed so tight I can see your muscles clenching. Look at your hands, man. They're balled into fists. Only one person does that to you...and she's dead. Let it go. Move on."

"I plan to, Sebastian. After today she'll be where she belongs—in the past. I just need to get through today."

WITH FRESHLY PAINTED toes and a hot cup of coffee, Janie climbed the last few stairs to the second floor of her complex. The quiet solitude of the afternoon helped to calm her nervous stomach and ease her cluttered mind. Like powdered sugar in front of a fan, her tranquility wisped away when she saw the grocery bag sitting at her door. As if her mind had already trained her eyes to look for his breadcrumbs, she noticed the bounty from the moment she entered the hallway. Trepidation mixed with excitement pulsed through her blood as she moved toward her apartment.

She walked directly from the entrance to her bedroom, kicking off her flip-flops and climbing into her bed. The heaviness she had felt in her limbs that morning had begun to settle back in.

His warning reverberated in her mind's eye. _The worst is yet to come_ , the previous letter said. Swaddling herself in the pink blanket, she finally reached for the bag.

Her shoulders shook in uncontrollable delight as she lifted the items out until they were lined up on her mattress. "Max!" His name escaped her lips in a loud laugh. Bags of Circus Peanuts, boxes of fruit snacks, and a large container of Greek yogurt cajoled her out of her sadness and into a happier place. It didn't matter that the yogurt wasn't cold anymore because there was no way she was going to eat that stuff. She smiled. That was the Max she knew—he always knew how to make her not only smile, but laugh—and laugh hard.

The letter was the last item in the bag. _If he can write it, I can read it_ , she thought, fingering the envelope. With a handful of Circus Peanuts, she opened up more of Max's past.

Dear Janie,

This is the last of it, the final letter you will receive. I'm sure reading these have not been easy; the man in these letters is hardly the man you know. Trust me when I tell you that writing them, while painful, has brought me to a place I never thought I would get. So, here is the rest of it. My past is officially in your hands...

Sometimes I think Danny's on Main was my life preserver. I had been drifting for so long I thought I would drown. Had it not been for Danny, Julie, and the rest of the group...well, I don't know what would have happened to me. I started working there not long after Gage and I (for lack of a better term) broke up. Things with Chloe and I were okay—she worked days, and I worked nights. We were surviving, but I wasn't happy anymore, although, to be honest, I would have denied it at the time.

_After a while, Kyle was hired, and we worked some day shifts together. One day he saw a picture of Chloe hanging behind the bar_ _and recognized her. To make an extremely long and horribly disgusting story short, Chloe was having an affair with Kyle's friend. While I was working nights, she was out with him. On top of that, Kyle had the horrific experience of having to explain to me that he had seen my wife engaged in a_ ménage a trois _with his friend and another man. Apparently, the whole thing had been videotaped and posted online._

After breaking what was probably a case of glassware and a few bottles of whatever I could get my hands on, I went home to confront Chloe. She wasn't there, and she never came home that night. As the sun came up the next morning, though, a car pulled up to our house. I watched as my wife cheerfully slipped out of the passenger side and headed toward the front door.

_When I came out to meet her, I saw him. Her boyfriend. That was the day she told me that_ she _had had enough. Janie, my head couldn't process the things she was saying, but it had no problem understanding when she informed me that she was pregnant with the other guy's baby. I'll never forget the look she tossed me over her shoulder as she got back in his car. Then she smiled and waved as they drove away._

Janie put the unfinished letter down on her lap. The orange marshmallows felt like lead in her stomach. _How could anyone be so cruel?_ Thoughts of her own parents struck her like lightening. Rubbing her hands over her face, the wetness of her tears coated her fingers. After taking a few cleansing breaths, she picked up his letter and continued to read:

I don't remember going back into the house. I don't remember the hours that passed. But later that day I received a call from the hospital telling me that Chloe had been in a car accident, and I needed to come in. Apparently, her boyfriend's car was hit by a truck. He walked away virtually unharmed, but Chloe and her unborn baby died on the operating table.

It was amazing, Janie, how blind I was. I sat at her funeral looking around at those in attendance; there were so many mourners to support me and her parents, but not one person who actually missed the deceased. How could I have allowed myself to stay so ignorant? How could I have given up on everyone and everything that meant so much to me for the love of the one person who had nothing to offer me but pain? Gage came to me after the funeral. After three years of silence, he took me back without hesitation.

Six months later, Chloe's parents tracked me down too. They apologized for the hell I lived at the hands of their daughter, and then they informed me that they had been sending Chloe and I money for years...

Chloe and I had lived small—comfortable, but small. We both worked long hours, yet there was never extra money. So to say I was surprised by her parents' revelation would be an understatement. Their visit opened my eyes to another truth about the woman I had pledged my life to: she was hiding the money from me. She had almost a million dollars saved. Her parents told me and gave me the money, and I haven't seen them since.

It's been seven years since Chloe died. Seven years since I shut down.

Please know that my intentions were never to deceive you. They were never about hiding anything at all. I buried my past the day I buried Chloe, and a part of me that I was ashamed of, disappointed in, and disgusted with, went into the ground with her. I needed it gone. I wanted it forgotten. The problem? In order to bury that much bad, I had to get rid of some good parts as well. That hadn't been a problem...until you.

And now I'm coming for you...one step at a time.

Love always,

Max

***

I'm Done Pretending

JANIE'S TREMBLING FINGERS sent a text to Lyla and Ashley first thing the next morning.

Meet me at Starbucks @ 10. Don't be late!

After another fitful night's sleep, Janie wasn't sure if she should blame the anxious, queasy, jittery feelings on the sleep deprivation or the decision she'd made, one that now sat heavily on her chest. Forcing herself into a scalding shower, she hoped the burn of the hot water would take her mind off the man who was singed into her every thought. After quickly throwing on tattered Pitt sweats and sweeping her long, brown hair into a messy ponytail, she arrived at Starbucks an hour early.

She gulped down her third coffee. The copious amounts of caffeine coursing through her veins had her fidgety, and she waited impatiently at a table for her friends to arrive.

"Are you sure you need more caffeine, Miss Bouncy? Look at you, you can't sit still." Ashley reached over Janie's head and grabbed her iced coffee, swallowing a huge gulp before sitting down.

"Orange, huh?" Janie nodded to Ashley's newly streaked hair, "Where the hell is Lyla? The girl works from home—how is she always late?"

"I'm right behind you, Twitchy," Lyla said, "What did you put in your coffee? Crack?"

Lyla and Ashley giggled, and Janie continued to jerk her ankle around and tap her fingernails on the table, "Seriously, Jane, what gives? You look...horrible."

Janie heard the sincerity in Lyla's voice and saw the concern in her eyes.

"I don't know what to do about Max. The man is killing me; physically killing me. I've been trying so hard to keep a lid on my tears"—her eyes welled up, as if on cue—"but I just don't know what to do."

"Aw honey..." Ashley placed Janie's hand in her own, "What happened?"

With that one question, the flood gates opened.

Large teardrops left Janie's tired eyes, "So you know about the packages he's been sending me. The gifts and the letters..." It wasn't a question; both women had read the first letter and knew about the first two gifts. But after reading Max's second letter, Janie decided to keep its details to herself. They just seemed too personal to share, even with her best friends. But now she needed advice, so as much as it would pain her to do so, she would need to divulge some of Max's secrets with her friends. "They're ...tearing me up," she continued, "The gifts are so thoughtful and personal..." She sent an evil eye to Lyla then. "Don't think I don't know you had a part in some of that." Lyla looked away and let out a whistle, "But obviously, it isn't the gifts that are the problem..."

"Well, that's good because, honestly, Jane—"

"Shut it, Lyla!" Janie and Ashley said in unison.

Janie took a deep breath, "It's the letters," she said, wiping fruitlessly at her steady stream of tears. "His letters gutted me. What he went through was horrible, and that crazy bitch he was married to was...terrible. I want to help him. Every instinct I have screams for me to figure out a way to fix it for him. And I know this is gonna make me sound cold...but I don't know if I can be with him. I mean, I love him. I really love him. I've been falling in love with Max DeLucca for months. But being with him now that I know what I know? I'm not sure I can do it."

Two pairs of very confused, very angry eyes bore into Janie.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Lyla snapped. Janie could see the sheer act of will it took for Lyla to not say more.

"Look, he loved his wife." Janie let her gaze move from between her friends, "I mean he _loved_ her. He stuck by her as she took everything from him. She cheated on him, she made him choose between her and his family, his best friend, college...hell, _life_ , and he chose her over everyone and everything else that mattered to him. She broke him, and he never left her." She looked at the perplexed faces of her closest friends. "Don't you see the problem with that?"

"No, Jane," Lyla said slowly, "I think I need you to explain more."

Ashley nodded in agreement.

After wiping her hands over her tear streaked face, Janie looked back up at her girls. "If she were still alive, I think he would _still_ be with her." She paused. Admitting it to herself was hard, but saying it out loud stung like tiny pieces of shrapnel piercing her skin, "And what if they weren't together, and he was with me instead? What if I made him unhappy? I don't think he would ever leave. His letters proved he would rather be miserable than walk away." Pushing away the last of her tears, she sucked in a deep breath. "I could never live with that kind of pressure. I can't be the cause of any more hurt and unhappiness for him. I refuse to be. I watched the way it tore my mom apart when my dad finally left, and I watched her let every other man step on the pieces. She would let them stick around until she had nothing left to give, and then they left her behind, smaller and weaker than before." She met Lyla's sad, knowing glance, "I never realized it before, but up until now, I think I was following her path."

Lyla closed her eyes and gave a slight nod, which confirmed Janie's greatest fear.

But that confirmation gave Janie the strength to move forward, "I'm done pretending my needs don't matter so that the men in my life can be happy. But while I won't sacrifice my own happiness like my mother did, I won't be like my father or like every man that crossed the threshold after he left. My needs aren't the only ones that matter. If I can't trust Max to play his part and be honest, not only with me but with himself..." Her vision began to blur from the watery sadness that weighed on her heart. "Then, I have to walk away. I never understood the expression 'Sometimes love just isn't enough,' but I guess sometimes it isn't."

"Honey," Ashley—a woman who was always filled with spice, sass, and sarcasm—had a faraway look that Janie had never seen before on her face, "You're right...sometimes love isn't enough. But this isn't that time. I have knowledge that you don't, and that is years of friendship with Max. I've never seen him the way he is with you. Don't run away until you talk to him. You may be surprised by what you learn when you just take some time to listen."

"Wow, you were right, Jane. She _can_ be really insightful when she isn't acting all scary!" Lyla nudged Ashley, trying to lighten the mood, "Speaking of scary—Janie, honey..." Lyla pried the coffee out of Janie's hands and dumped it in the trash can, "I'm thinking you should lay off the liquid life support for the rest of the day. And go take a nap. You look like ass."

The women left the coffee shop with hugs and kisses, and Janie went up to her apartment to spend the rest of her Saturday eating fruit snacks and Circus Peanuts, and drifting in and out of sleep.

MAX HADN'T ACTUALLY heard her voice in nearly a week, and the last time she'd been screaming at him, telling him to never speak to her again. Every time he thought of Monday night, all he could see was the hurt and betrayal covering her normally radiant face. All he could hear was the pain and the discord in her usually melodic tone. He did that to her; he put that doubt in her eyes. Those images of Janie would be forever branded in his memory.

He had hoped that his letters, his explanations, would be enough to help her understand how he had gotten so lost in his life. Each time his phone rang or he got a text, he felt his pulse spike, only to feel rejected when it was anyone but her. _What did you expect? For her to read about your fucked-up past and feel sorry for you?_ The thought was a punch in the gut.

"That's it!" Small pieces of advice that had been offered by his friends over the past few weeks started coming together like a puzzle in his mind. He was done watching his life; it was time to start living it.

His heart pounded in his chest as he ran from his kitchen down the hall into his home office. He had been spending a lot of time there the past few days, between writing the letters for Janie and working on the project with Lyla.

As if his thoughts conjured her up, his cell rang, "Hey, Ly. Is it done?"

"Yes." He could hear her smile through the phone line, "And it's great, if I do say so myself...which I do." She chuckled.

"Of course, you do," he teased. "Listen, I wanna talk, but I have to make some changes to the story. I just thought of something that she really needs to know—"

Lyla cut him off midsentence, "Max, there are a lot of things she _really_ needs to know. I promised myself I would stay out of it, so I will, but listen up...be really clear about what you're looking for in terms of a relationship with her. She's learned to be strong...and damn, Max, she is...but the same rules apply to you."

"You know Lyla, I'm not sure if you are finally starting to make sense, or if I'm getting becoming as fucked up as you, but I totally understood what you just said, and those are the changes I'm making as we speak. Can you drop off the cover this afternoon?"

"Yep. And Max, F-Y-I...she isn't coming to dinner tomorrow night. She says she's sick."

Her sickness must have been contagious because Max felt his stomach clench, and his lunch begin to rebel. He couldn't do this any longer. He was going to see Janie Silver tomorrow...whether she was ready or not.

IT FELT STRANGE not being with Lyla on a Sunday. Strange wasn't quite the right word...sad, lonely, isolated, just plain bad. _Yeah, that about covers it_ , Janie thought. But this isolation was self-imposed—she needed just one more day to get herself together before she returned to normal life; whatever normal was.

She had spent all of Sunday morning trying to remember what it was like before she and Max added the "who have sex" to their friendship status. Sure, it had only been a few weeks, but those weeks were packed with enough emotional angst to fill a season of _The Vampire Diaries_ minus the vampires, werewolves, and witches.

Having just gotten out of the shower, Janie absentmindedly ran a brush through her long, wet tresses. She needed to talk to Max. _Oh, that should be a great conversation_ , she thought, _Thanks for sharing your deep, dark secrets––at my insistence, mind you–– but we can't be together because we're both too fucked up._

A stilted laugh escaped her lips as she slipped on her favorite pink Henley and a pair of black leggings, "Are you going to regret this?" She asked her saddened reflection in the mirror. She didn't hear an answer, not that she expected one, because a loud knocking came from her front door.

A quick glance at the time as she padded barefoot to the door told her it was five o'clock. Just about everyone she knew was at Lyla's.

She could hear her heart slamming in her chest and her blood flowing through her ears when she looked through the peephole. Standing on the other side was the beautiful, strong man who had finally opened his heart when he opened his past to her.

Max heard the clink of the lock, and his breathing was shallow as he watched the door slowly open. Her face came into view, and Max inhaled sharply. He felt like it was the first full breath he had taken since she walked away from him the week before, since he stood there and watched her go. Now there she was, her hair wet, the smell of coconut and lime emanating from her skin. The fragrance had his mouth watering as he used what felt like superhuman strength to keep his fingers from reaching out and touching her. He was speechless.

"Max?" she croaked, "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at Lyla's?"

"I heard you were sick."

He grinned, and she swore her knees went weak. She reached for the doorjamb to help stabilize her suddenly boneless legs.

"I brought you some soup."

In his hands was take-out from the same restaurant she had gone to when she brought him soup a couple of weeks before, along with another bag. If it was possible, her heart beat even faster, "I gave you my past Janie..." He walked past her frozen body into her apartment.

Once she'd steadied herself, she followed him back toward her kitchen. "Max..."

Her eyes looked so sad. He had never seen her look so torn. Part of him was scared and wanted to turn around and leave, but the other part, the stronger part, knew this woman, this _love_ was worth the long and painful journey he took to get here.

"Janie, I'm worth so much more than my past," he began, "I know you have doubts. I can see them written all over your beautiful face." He stood so close to her. His fingers caressed her cheek as he tilted her face up to his. He looked directly into her cautious blue eyes, "And you would be a fool not to."

He reached into the first bag and pulled out containers of soup and loaves of sourdough bread. "First, I'm gonna make us something to eat." He then opened the second bag and pulled out a three-ring binder. He watched as her eyebrows pinched together in confusion and then as her eyes grew wide in recognition.

"Max, what is this?" She couldn't believe what she was seeing. On the counter in front of her sat a binder, but under the plastic sheath was what could only be described as a book cover. A thousand butterflies took flight in her belly as she stared at the cover.

On it was a picture of her and Max at the Fourth of July picnic that Danny and Julie had hosted at their house. She and Max were lying on a yellow blanket on the grass. The picture caught them laughing—she would never forget that moment. They'd been talking about their first kisses, and Max told her how he sneezed in the middle of his first kiss, right on the girl. He explained how she was trying to ignore the fact that his spit was on her glasses, but he started laughing and the girl told everyone he was the worst kisser ever. They were hysterical when Lyla had snapped that picture.

Janie's eyes drifted down to the words under the photo:

Meet Me Halfway

by Max DeLucca

(cover by L.P. Jodes)

The same title ran down the spine of the binder.

"L.P. Jodes? How did you—Max, what is this?" The thoughts were coming faster than her mouth could form words. _How did he know about Lyla's pen name? What was going on?_

He watched as she bit her bottom lip and stared between the cover and him. Complete bewilderment overpowered her ability to speak, so he spoke for her.

"Janie, you've been giving me pieces of yourself since the day we met. I know how hard some of those pieces were to give, and I know I was greedy; I took them because I wanted to know everything I could about the amazing woman that entered my life. You asked for me to give you the same and still I withheld until it was too late. But now, you have my past." He ran his hand over the binder before sliding it to her, "But this...you are my present; my here and now. I know you have questions. I have answers. All I ask is that you read this first, and then we can talk about whatever there is still left to say."

His eyes were begging her to accept this proposal. Truth be told, her heart was melting at an alarming rate.

"Okay, Max. I'll read it, but what are you going to do?" He leaned down and placed a soft kiss to the top of her head.

"I told you, I'm making dinner. Heating soup is quite a challenge." He winked and her heart melted a little more.

Picking up the binder, she held it close to her chest, as she walked down the hall to her bedroom. Sliding her pink, chenille blanket off her bed, she padded back to the main room and curled up on the couch.

He watched as she draped the blanket, her "shield against all things evil", over her body. Memories of the countless movies they watched together where she would hide her eyes in that blanket flashed through his mind. He could feel his smile widen as he turned from her to the cabinet to locate the pot for the soup.

Taking a few, deep, cleansing breaths, Janie finally steadied her hands enough to open the cover of the beautiful book:

Once, not so long ago, there was a man who had lived a life that left him devastated, insecure, untrusting, and bent. Believing he had somehow lost his one true chance at love, he lived each day as it was, never looking back and never, ever looking forward. He was content enough; he had jobs that made him happy, money in the bank that made him secure, and the company of women for when he got lonely. Life was simple...easy.

Until one Thursday night.

He was working behind the bar when the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen walked in, and the very foundation on which he stood, began to shake. She had a smile that lit up the room and a laugh that sounded like a song. Her eyes, when they fell upon him, stopped time.

"Stay away from that woman," _he thought to himself, "_ She is a keeper, and you don't do keepers _."_

_But he couldn't stay away because, week after week, she entered his orbit and rocked his world. She was kind and sweet and warm. She was all of the things he had never had before; all of the things he swore couldn't possibly exist. But there she stood, time after time, laughing and loving and slowly finding her way into his mind. He couldn't have her.... He_ wouldn't _have her._

As the months went by they became friends. But they were more than friends, even from the start. They were lovers who had never made love. Their passion was all consuming, yet never consumed. He knew her likes and dislikes, and she knew his. They talked with ease and shared comfortable silence. They often occupied the same space, but on the occasion when they would touch, his skin would burn with desire for her. He knew she felt it too; he could see the desire in her eyes. But still he tried to stay away.

One fateful night the man finally stopped fighting himself and found the courage to take the woman home. He kept telling himself that it was one night, just one night. He knew it was wrong to want her and take her when he knew he only had one night to offer her, but he could no longer deny himself the one woman who affected him on every level. He would get her out of his system, and they would go back to being just friends. He would make sure of it.

But the moment he kissed her lips, the moment his tongue entered her mouth, he knew one night would never be enough. This woman was a keeper, just as he'd expected. She was a forever woman. Each time he entered her body, sparks would shoot up his spine. With each thrust he knew this woman would always be a part of his soul, and it scared him to death.

_The next morning he woke up happy._ I can do this as long as we take it slow _, he thought as he went to get them coffee. But on his way into the apartment, he heard his woman—oh God...his woman...so possessive already—talking to her friend about how much she liked him, how she could fall for him, and her words caused him to panic. In that moment, all he could feel were his failures from the past. He needed to leave her. He couldn't ever let himself feel that broken, ever again. So he left the apartment—and the woman—like the coward he had become._

He spent days trying to run from his emotions, trying to stick them back into the bottle in which they had been captive for years, but the lid would not stay closed. When her friend was in trouble, he knew she was hurting too, and he had to be with her. He couldn't stand the thought of her being so sad and so alone.

_He went over with the best of intentions, to offer friendship and comfort. But she asked for more, she asked for_ him _. And once she was in his arms, his heart took over and his body went with it. His head screamed for him to stop, "_ You can't have her.... You can't stay _," it called, but he didn't listen and he made love to her all night. When the morning came and he ran again, he chided himself. He did not deserve this woman._

Time and time again, she came to him, sharing details of her tormented past and baring her feelings on the present. All she asked in return was for his honesty and his trust. He couldn't give her what she needed; he cloaked his damaged heart in armor and kept it hidden from her soft touch.

_On the night she came to him and told him that she loved him, words escaped him. So instead of letting her in as he should have, he said nothing. And when she turned to walk away, the man thought, "_ I need to stop her _," but he couldn't make himself move. "_ You're not ready for her yet," _his mind screamed. She walked right up to him and said the most profound thing he had ever heard. "_ I am worth more than one fucking step... _" She turned around then, and the man watched, paralyzed, as she left._

He thought about her words for days, and he realized that she was exactly right. She didn't want the responsibility of holding his happiness in her hands. She didn't want him to lose himself in order to be with her, all she wanted was to be met halfway. She wanted a partnership, trust, love...

In the days since that heartbreaking evening, he struggled to deal with his past. He faced the pain and humiliation that had kept him prisoner for years. He realized that the infatuation of a boy is so different from the love of a man. He learned that his fear of failure is not the same as his desire to succeed. And this woman, his love, possessed his heart and soul with care. She had treated him kindly with trust and love, and he was so grateful for every day he had with her as friends, and for each of the nights he shared with her as lovers.

Now, while he would understand if she were ready to walk away from him, he hopes that she can find it in her heart to give him another chance, because he is ready for her in a way that he has never been ready for another woman before. He is ready for his forever—but he only wants it if it's her.

Janie Lynn Silver,

I love you with everything that I am and with everything I will ever be.

Please give me a chance to make this up to you....

Love always,

Max

JANIE DIDN'T KNOW when Max had sat down beside her, but when his strong arms wrapped around her trembling body she turned into him and cried. After a moment she pulled away and looked up at his handsome face.

His grassy eyes looked serious, and his brows knitted together, "Janie, sweetheart, please talk to me."

His beautiful Janie had tears running down her face. Her eyes were red and her nose was running, but she'd never looked lovelier. He cupped her face with both hands and used his thumbs to gently wipe away her tears, "I hate seeing you cry. It makes me want to punch the person who did this to you...and being that it's me..." He smiled sheepishly, "It's a bit of a conundrum."

She wiped her nose with a tissue and reached over with her left hand to smooth it across his stubbled cheek. "Oh, Max...I love you so much. I do, but I was—" She couldn't finish her sentence. Just the thought brought a sharp pain to the center of her chest.

"You were what, babe?"

The questioning look on his face nearly undid her, but she had to keep it together to put a voice to her thoughts, "I was going to walk away from you. I was going to let you go."

His breath caught in his chest, and time stopped as he waited for her explanation.

"Max, I've spent my whole life waiting...waiting for acceptance, waiting for a great love that would come and sweep me off my feet. And in all of my waiting, I stopped living. I stopped trying to make my life better, and I ended up being a victim trapped in my own circumstances. I was never going to find my great love because I put too much pressure on every move I made and on every person I met."

"Janie, listen, I—"

"No." She gripped his hands in hers, "You need to let me say this. We found each other, and the more time we spent together the clearer it became that you were so much more than hotness and charm. You, Max, are what finally gave me the strength to believe in myself." She could see the nervousness in the square way he held his shoulders and in the lilt of his head. He didn't know where her speech was taking them, and she could see his fear. She wanted nothing more than to give him the comfort he desired, but she had to come clean on where she was headed before he came to her.

"When I read your letters, I got scared. You were with someone for years who was horrible to you and you stayed with her. What would happen if I couldn't make you happy? Would you stay with me out of loyalty? I didn't want that for you, and I didn't want that for me. We are both worthy of love, but it's too much pressure for one person to be completely responsible for the other person's happiness. No matter how much I love you." She whispered the last three words as she slipped her hands from his and nervously rubbed them up and down her thighs, plucking at an imaginary piece of lint on her blanket. The silence was unnerving when she finally lifted her head to look at him.

"Janie." His clear, green eyes penetrated her soul as he leaned forward and cupped her cheek. "You will never know how sorry I was the night I let you leave my house, but I needed that time to really look at myself. Chloe was selfish, unkind, and well...abusive. Had she not died, I would have left her, but I still would have shut down my heart. I've spent my entire adult life thinking I was truly and thoroughly broken, but it was you who made me see that I was only bent. When you came into my life...God, Janie, you shook me up. You smoothed me out, but most of all you made me whole. You made me feel things I never felt before...ever. I never realized how much I was missing until I found you. And I was scared shitless. I'm sorry it took me so long to figure it out."

With his finger under her chin, he slightly tilted her head back, bringing her bright, teal gaze to his, "I promise you, Janie. I'll spend the rest of my life taking steps to meet you anywhere you want to go." She smiled; her face lighting up his entire world.

She laughed when he lifted her up in his arms and carried her back to her bedroom. She wrapped her legs around his narrow waist and nestled her lips against his neck, kissing up toward his ear. Placing soft nips on his earlobe, she felt reverberations in his chest as he groaned.

Max turned his head toward her, his lips caressing her ear, sending a jolt of tingles down her body, "I love you, my sweet Janie," he whispered as his warm moist tongue licked her lobe.

He gently pulled away from her so he could look into her hungry, golden-flecked blue eyes. He could see his heat, intent, and desire mirrored in the women in front of him. She truly was his equal...his partner.

She looked back as his emerald eyes smoldered, he was vibrating with need as she started to work the buttons on his shirt, sliding it down his smooth, hard skin. She untangled her legs and let them hit the carpet as he moved her back against the bed.

At the same time, he lifted her top and inhaled deeply, relishing in the familiar fragrance. "Oh, babe, you smell so good." He breathed in again, "I've missed this. I've missed _you_. I can't wait to taste every part of you."

Janie felt her panties dampen with Max's promise, "I can't wait to let you," she answered huskily, stepping in front of him and pushing him down on to the bed. With his shirt off, Janie was able to run her hands across Max's broad chest. She straddled him on her mattress, his skin pebbled with goose bumps as she let her fingers slide down every ripple in his abdomen.

"Are you cold, honey?" She asked in a teasing voice as she let her tongue graze his nipple and gave it a less-than-gentle nip.

"Babe, I'm so hot right now I could set your fucking sheets on fire." He wrapped his sculpted arms around her and shifted her below him.

Need coiled inside his belly as he pressed against her soft skin. His arousal was pushing uncomfortably against the zipper of his jeans, but the torment was sweet knowing he would soon be inside his Janie again. His lips hovered over her exposed throat, and he heard her lusty moan in anticipation. Max started his assault with gentle kisses and long licks down the column of her neck until he reached the spot where her it met her shoulder. He placed a small bite in the tender nook and felt ten feet tall when he heard the whimpers come from the back of her throat, "Oh, Max."

He continued to kiss and touch his way to her breasts. Her nipples were hardened points, visible through the pink lace of her bra. He placed his large, work-roughened hand over one breast and his mouth over the other.

"More, Max, I want more." Impatiently, she sat up, reached behind her back, and unclasped her bra.

His witty comment about her lack of patience died on his tongue when she let the bra slide seductively down her arms and float weightlessly to the floor.

He stared at the woman sitting before him, "Janie...you are so beautiful." He leaned forward, using the heel of his palm to playfully push her onto her back, and began his feast on her breasts. He licked and sucked a hardened nipple while stroking and rolling the soft flesh of the other in his hand. Max rolled his groin against hers as he moved his mouth from her left breast to her right.

Between the teasing, licking, and grinding, Janie's panties were saturated with desire, and she could feel the thrumming in her core. She knew that her first climax was only seconds away.

"Let me have it, babe." His request was husky and raw as he went back to sucking and stroking her hard peak. He was bestowing love onto her body in the most basic way, and she was responding.

The buzz started way down deep in her core and quickly spread. She wrapped her cloth-covered legs around his, "Oh, Max...don't stop." Her climax was short and intense as her heart raced and her body quivered, but she didn't feel sated. Not yet. She was ravenous for the man looking down at her. She wanted him, and by the flare she saw in his eyes, she knew she wasn't alone.

She reached down to unbutton his jeans, his erection jutting up to the top of the zipper.

"You're staring, babe...like what you see?"

"You have no idea..."

He wasn't prepared for her lusty response, and he groaned as she slipped out from underneath him and eased down his jeans and boxers.

Janie's mouth went desert dry as she let her hands wonder down his body.

"I think I'll start where you left off..." Playfulness and hunger rang in her tone. She climbed up his body and straddled his torso. She leaned down and let her tongue lap over one of Max's soft brown nipples. Her hands rubbed down his ribs as she licked and suckled each flat disk. Her hands on his body felt like heaven, and the gates were just opened for him to enter.

She took his moan as approval and slowly traveled down his body with her hands and her tongue, stopping to lick, nip, or suck whenever she pleased—and Lord, did she please.

When she finally reached between his legs, a bolt of lust zapped through him. He momentarily lost his ability to breathe. Janie looked up and met his gaze as she seductively lowered her head and took the full length of his cock into her mouth. The lack of oxygen brought black spots to his vision as the pleasure of her first stroke registered. Her mouth felt so warm and wet as she took him in with such care.

His salty taste and musky smell were unique to him alone, and they made her nearly lose control. Possessing all of his hardness on the soft base of her tongue aroused her body more, making her burn. She opened wider and slid him deeper until he hit the back of her throat. She heard his moans of pleasure and groaned with her own excitement as she continued to suck his cock.

When he felt her soft fingers start to massage his balls, he couldn't stop his legs from shaking. Yep, this was heaven, and it was fucking amazing. He weaved his hands through Janie's hair as she glided him in and out. He loved knowing by her moans that she was getting pleasure by giving him his. He wasn't going to last much longer, and he knew it. His orgasm had started to gather in the base of his spine and was quickly working up to his thighs like a storm.

"Janie...babe, I'm gonna come." He tried to warn her, but his voice was horse and his breathing labored. It didn't stop her though as she continued to lap at his engorged head. His unique flavor compelled her to continue the sinful torture. "Fuck!"

He exploded in her mouth. The warm liquid coated her tongue and trickled down the back of her throat. She felt powerful as she licked him clean, purring like a kitten while doing it. He nearly came again when he watched her use her thumb to wipe away the come he left behind and then suck her thumb as if not wanting to waste a bit.

"Seriously, Jane, if you were any sexier, I would die."

She kissed her way up his body, the same way she had licked her way down, and rested her head on his chest, the crisp hairs tickling her cheek. She loved this man. Janie had never felt this kind of happiness. It was light and airy like cotton candy, but it fed her soul like chicken soup. She listened while Max's heart raced and couldn't help but smile knowing that she was the one making it sprint.

"I can hear your mind working, babe. What's up?"

Janie looked at him, "I'm just really happy, Max. Here we are. We finally got here. I finally found a man who is great to me and _for_ me _and_ who isn't so bad in bed," she teased.

With that comment Janie found herself lying flat on her back, laughing out loud with a large naked man glaring down at her.

"Not so bad?" Her leggings were stripped down in a flash, "You think I'm _not so bad_ , huh?" He huffed.

She giggled as her panties met the leggings on the floor across the room. He slid down her body, warm flesh on warm flesh, until his face was level with her sex.

"Max, I just meant that...Oh...oh Max..." He clamped his hands on her knees and spread them wide, exposing her bare cunt, already glistening with her juices. Stroking her sensitive lips with his thumb, he slipped two fingers between her wet folds. He plunged them in and out as he used his thumb to roll her swollen clit. Janie's giggling was quickly replaced with throaty sounds of pleasure when Max leaned in to take his first lick of her pussy.

"Not laughing now, are you, babe? Mmm, you taste so good."

She couldn't answer. She could barely breathe as he slid his fingers in and out of her slick heat while The Beast made his first appearance in what felt like ages.

She panted when he slid his fingers in deeper, hitting her golden spot. "Oh, Max!"

He nipped her clit with his teeth as he continued to stroke her G-spot. Her body started shaking as it hit its detonation point. He could feel her walls tightening around his fingers.

"Come in my mouth, Janie. I wanna taste you," he demanded as he applied more pressure to the sensitive bud, sliding his thick fingers in and out of her opening. She wound up like a rubber band, stretching tighter and tighter until she did what Max had demanded. She snapped.

Janie saw fireworks. Like the Fourth of July, she exploded, as she came with Max's mouth at her pussy, "Oh, Max...don't stop!" She begged.

And he didn't. He milked her until every last pulse had seeped from her body to his.

THEY MUST HAVE fallen asleep because when he opened his eyes, there was no daylight coming in from the window. In the darkness, it took a second to remember where he was. But then he felt her warmth next to him. Her soft, naked body cuddled up against his, her back to his front. His mind was spinning, replaying everything that happened, all the things they had said to one another. He not only found the woman of his dreams, but he finally deemed himself worthy of love; her love. He would spend the rest of his life meeting her halfway. Need rippled through him as his desire combusted into an inferno.

"I want you, Janie. I need you," he whispered in her ear as he ran his hand down the side of her body. She shivered. He loved how she responded to his touch.

"You have me, Max...forever," she said, her voice sleepy but telling only the truth.

He pressed a kiss into her shoulder, and she pressed her ass against his hardened length. Max slipped his hand through her arm to cup her breast. He started to pinch her nipple between his thumb and middle finger when she let out a sigh. He loved this woman.

"Turn over, babe. I wanna see your face when I make love to you."

Her body tingled at his tender request. Max reached over to turn on the bedside lamp, and then stroked Janie's face. "Thank you for loving me, Janie—"

"Max—" Janie tried to interrupt.

"No, listen to me. Thank you for loving me when I couldn't love myself. Thank you for sticking around when it would have been easier to leave. Thank you for being everything I could've ever wanted, and all of the things I never knew I could have. Just...thank you."

Quiet tears slid down Janie's face, "You're welcome, Max," was all she had time to say before he lowered his mouth to hers. His kiss was no longer as searching as it was consuming. His full lips pressed into hers as he swept his tongue along the seam of her mouth.

"Open for me, baby." His eyes were filled with pent-up desire as he swept a lock of hair behind her ear and hungrily devoured her lips. His tongue plunged into her mouth, stroking hers with equal parts fervor and skill. His hands roamed her body with purpose, both igniting her skin with patches of fire and leaving chill bumps once the smoke cleared.

"I love you, sweet Janie," he whispered into her ear just before he nipped on her lobe.

The small bite of pain was followed by a sweet lick of pleasure as he sucked deeply at the soft skin. The overwhelming maelstrom of sensations had her head spinning and her body responding in the most primal of ways.

"Oh, Max, I want you inside me," she begged. Her legs were wrapped tightly around his trim waist as she gyrated her pelvis into his. He could feel her arousal, all warm and wet, as she rubbed against him. Waves of lust, love, and happiness crashed over him, bathing his senses in a bliss that he'd never before known. He wanted to take his time and draw out her pleasure for as long as he could. He wanted to worship her body the way he did her heart and her soul, but he could feel her pulse racing and legs shaking. He knew her climax would hit hard and fast the moment he touched her, and he wanted to be inside of her when it did.

"Max...please." She looked down and moaned as she watched him palm his hard shaft and enter her in one smooth stroke.

Her gaze traveled up his magnificent body to his face, where his eyes glistened with moisture as they seemed to drink her in. His skin was smooth under her touch, and he hissed through his teeth when she lifted her head to take his nipple into her mouth, "Janie, you undo me." In and out he rocked, his cock almost completely leaving her slick pussy before plunging back in deep, "You feel so good babe." He groaned as she squeezed her inner walls around his length, and then rolled her hips into his, each thrust causing a friction against her clit that had her climax quickly building.

"I'm gonna come, Max," she said on a groan, "Come with me." Her verbal demand to his internal desire had his orgasm rising from the base of his spine up to his balls. Harder, he drove into her body, giving her all that he had and all that he was. Her body quaked. His skin burned. Her heart raced. His pulse thrummed. They came apart. They came together.

"Heaven," he whispered stroked her arm. Janie let out a content sigh, she couldn't agree more.

A FEW HOURS LATER, Janie stroked her fingers up and down Max's naked chest.

"So, how did you get Lyla to help you? I mean, she doesn't tell anyone about her writing."

"How does anyone get Lyla to do anything?"

They both laughed and said simultaneously, "Raspberry truffles."

***

Early November

"THIS IS DELICIOUS, Janie," Kyle said as he took another piece of garlic bread from the basket. He didn't look well, Janie thought to herself. He looked tired and hungover...again. She would have to talk to Max about it tonight after everyone went home.

"Don't tell me. Max was in charge of the bread." Janie smiled as Max pulled her in tight to his body and gave her a kiss that would melt popsicles in January. She could feel the blush as it crept down her neck. PDAs still embarrassed her sometimes but she was getting more used to them.

Sunday dinner was at their house that week, and the whole group was stuffing their faces with homemade lasagna, salad, and garlic bread. Janie had moved into Max's house only a few weeks after they became a couple. They were already spending every night together, neither one wanting to say good-bye at the end of the day. So when her lease was up, Max gave her his sexy grin and asked her to move in. And his house became theirs.

Now that they were together and Janie worked during the day, Max finally made the decision to give up his bartending shifts at Danny's and work full-time at the Gage Garage. He spent his days working with his hands, alongside his best friend and his nights curled up with the love of his life. Yep, life was pretty fucking great.

After dinner, everyone settled in the family room to watch the Eagles game. During the halftime news break, Janie, Lyla, and Julie quickly went to the kitchen to get drink refills.

"Every time I see you guys together, I get so...happy." Julie sounded choked up as she continued her thought. "It's like seeing my kids growing up. You guys are a good pair."

Janie could feel the emotions bottled up in her friend. "Thank you, Julie. I wouldn't have come this far without you."

The women walked back into the family room just as the meteorologist spoke on the television:

Tropical Storm Leo is gaining strength in the Atlantic as we speak. We are expecting him to turn into a hurricane as soon as Tuesday or as late as Wednesday, and landfall by Wednesday night. Get ready, people. This is going to be a big one.

Julie went straight into Danny's arms, her face stoic but solid, and Max reached out his hand and looped it around Janie's waist. She snuggled into his lap but watched as Lyla froze. Turning her head to see what had caught her friend's attention she saw Ashley sitting on the floor in front of the sofa. Her hands were shaking like leaves on a tree in a windstorm as the color bled from her face. Ryan, who had been sitting on the coach behind her slid to the floor, pulling her between his jean-clad legs and wrapping his tattooed arms around her.

The pair was quiet—not a sound came from either one, but their silence screamed pain. Janie had no idea what just happened, but she had a feeling the coming storm was going to bring a whole lot more than just rain...

***

AVAILABLE NOW!

The second book in _The Charistown Series_

The Darker the Storm, the Deeper the Pain...

Love knows no bounds when two people are destined to be together.

One fights to maintain the distance; while the other battles to close the gap.

The Brighter the Light at the End...

Will they move forward together or finally close the last remaining door to their past?

It's time for Ryan and Ashley to decide.

But once that decision is made, there will be no going back...

Always Reach for the Light...

A Neighborhood bar where old wounds heal, friends become family, and some...become lovers...

Danny's on Main is where their story continues... Where they all shelter each other during the ...

Storm Front

***

COMING JULY 2014

The third book in _The Charistown Series_

Kyle Marx was suffocating in a hell created for him long ago. One he couldn't seem to escape, and didn't believe he should. A bent man, he looked for temporary reprieve any way he could get it. What Kyle had yet to realize was that merely surviving wasn't good enough, and bending only gets you so far.

Sometimes, the mold needs to shatter in order for change to take place...

Sometimes you have to break, so you can breathe.

***

HOW DO I begin to thank all of the people who have helped to make _Thursday Nights_ possible? I guess, I'll start at the beginning and work my way out. But please know that my gratitude in _no way_ lessens as the list goes on.

While I have always loved writing, this journey truly began in the winter of 2012 when I started my blog, Lisa's Reads. So, my first "thank you" goes to **Kristen Sewards** for not only setting up my website, but for dealing with all of the ridiculous questions I constantly called and e-mailed her with on an almost daily basis. Kristen, without you, there would have been no Lisa's Reads. I am truly grateful for your time and your patience.

The most awesome thing happened following the start of my blog—I started to gain readers! I know it may sound silly to say, but I was overwhelmed by the acceptance and the positive feedback I received from the amazing people who were following my blog. I was amazed and humbled by each and every comment I received. So, thank you to every one of my Lisa's Reads readers. You gave me the courage to continue to write and move forward to the next leg of my journey.

To my **Jodi** **Frankel** – When life hit you over the head, you kept getting back up and laughing in its face! You are a strong and incredible woman. Your courage and ability to kick fear's ass has taught me how to be a stronger woman and a better person. Our Thursday nights are the inspiration behind not only this book, but the entire series. _My life would suck without you!_ Thank you for reading this story many, many times and for always showing enthusiasm for my thoughts and my characters.

**Sharon Price** – If not for you, there literally wouldn't be a book. "You should write a book!" you told me one morning after reading one of my blog posts. As always, I listened to you and did exactly that! Hee-hee!!! Your presence in my life has made it so much richer and fuller with love, happiness, and laughter. Thank you for always believing in me...even when I didn't believe in myself.

**Michelle Mankin** – I met you in Chicago and knew then that you were going to be someone special in my world. From the first second I decided to go ahead with this _crazy_ plan and write my story, you were my "Yellow Brick Road." You have held my hand each step of the way and given me invaluable advice. Thank you so much for your guidance and patience. I adore you.

To my beta readers **Lisa Jones Maurer, Cary Bruce, Kathy Sizemore, Jessica Hayes, and Lori Ramos** – What can I say to you ladies? You have been my saving grace!

**Lisa** – The amount of time and effort you put into beta reading was truly unbelievable! There aren't enough strawberry chocolates in the world to thank you for your help. Your sense of humor kept me going when I felt like I was ready to throw the whole book out and start over! I truly love you!

**Cary** – You jumped in to this project as a favor to a mutual "friend," and you gave me everything you had! I am eternally grateful for all of your help. Your input was invaluable. So much so that you are officially stuck with me for the rest of the ride! *wink*

**Kathy** – You are my soul sister! I knew we were meant to be when I "met" you through my blog. Thank you for your valuable input on my story. You are one of the very few to have been unfortunate fortunate enough to have read _TN_ from the very first draft. God love you, girl! Thanks for sticking it out with me! I wouldn't want it any other way.

**Jessica** – You were always right on top of things, offering great feedback and telling me when things didn't make sense. For a writer, that feedback is even more important than the positive. You helped me make my story better, and I am eternally grateful!

**Lori** – Your feedback posed a question that I had never thought of, and because of you we now know that Danny's on Main is closed on Sunday's. *wink* That may sound like a small detail, but we both know how big the small details can be. So, thank you!

Not only am I not embarrassed to admit it, but I am proud to say that I do tend to judge a book by its cover. *Protects head from flying tomatoes* That being said, I am and will always be eternally grateful to **Sarah Hansen** of Okay Creations. She listened to what I wanted for my cover and then made me the most beautiful design I could have imagined. I love it, Sarah, and I can't wait to work with you again in the future.

The part of the cover that most authors tend to dislike is writing the blurb on the back. I found it extremely difficult to sum up my entire story in just a few short paragraphs, and that's when **L.B. Simmons** ( _Sparky_ ) entered my life. She was one of the first people to read my story from start to finish. Her kind and supportive words made me giddy. And when I asked L.B. to help me with my blurb, she accepted the challenge without hesitation and helped me to craft what I am proud to say is the back cover of _Thursday Nights_. She then stepped up again, when the editing process was kicking my butt and spent countless hours helping me work through sentences that needed some... _spark_. Thank you so much, L.B. I am so happy to know you, and I can't wait to finally be in your presence. (And I owe you BIG time!!)

To **John Dolaway** – You have no idea how much of Danny's character came from hanging out with you. Every time we entered your bar it felt like we were walking into Cheers. You are a fun friend with a warm heart. Thanks for all of our Thursday nights!

To my editor, **Danielle Poiesz** – I truly believe the editor's job must be one of the hardest jobs in the whole book-writing process. It is essentially their job to tell an author where their work (their baby) is flawed and needs help. Danielle, thank you for all of your help in this process. You have taught me lessons I will never forget.

To " **The Writer's Club** " – You have been supportive, inspirational, an outlet for frustration, and a huge source of comic relief. Thank you for including me in your world. I don't know what I would have done without each and every one of you during this process.

Thanks to **Brandee Veltri** from _Brandee's Book Endings_ for all of the work you are doing to spread the word about _Thursday Nights_. I am so happy that we met in Chicago. I can't wait to see you again. Thanks in advance to all of the blogs that are taking the time to add this book to their blog tours, too. Your help is greatly appreciated.

Thanks to **JT Formatting** – without you _Thursday Nights_ would still be in Word Doc form. Your help and guidance was invaluable.

To all of the people I constantly bothered with endless questions (this is an ongoing list, so I am so sorry if I forget to mention your name—shoot me an email, and I will mention you in book 2, I promise!): **Kyla Linde, Lisa Maurer, Julie Titus, Sharon Price, Gail McHugh, Jessica Hayes, Kathy Sizemore, Toni Pirrello,** and **Shannon Stephens.**

To **my family** – Both of blood and marriage (or, in my case, luck), I am truly so blessed to have each and every one of you in my life. You have each taught me how to be a better person. I am who I am because of you. The time we spend together is unforgettable and irreplaceable. Thank you for standing behind me during this process. I love you.

To my husband – **Jon** , I honestly don't know how I could have done this without you. In fact, I know for certain that I couldn't have. From the first second I told you I was going to write a book, you stepped aside and let me do my _thing_. You have believed in me, supported me, and loved me during this entire journey. You literally became both the dad and the mom to our children on many, many occasions when my face was stuck behind the computer screen. You may not be a reader, but you have always been a believer. You have stood next to me and held my hand. You have whispered encouragement (even if it was through your snoring). I love you so much. Thank you for everything.

To **my boys** – You will most likely _never_ read this. But know that I love you, and I am so proud to be your mom. I am really sorry for any future embarrassment this story brings you.

XO,

Lisa

***

LISA PAUL IS a wife, mother, daughter, sister, friend, reader, writer, blogger, and self-proclaimed comedian—just not always in that order. Ever since she was a little girl, she has devoured books. Falling in love with the Sweet Valley High series at a young age drew Lisa to series books and inspired her to write her own. _Thursday Nights_ is the first book in her Charistown series. When not writing, Lisa can be found eating french fries and Godiva raspberry truffles, or hanging out with her husband and two sons. Visit her blog at http://www.lisasreads.com and her website, http://www.lisanpaul.com

***

Read on for a preview of L. B. Simmons' new title,

I had the perfect life.

Beautiful and loving husband.Three gorgeous little girls.

Successful career.

The only thing missing was the white picket fence. I really wanted that fence.

Three years ago, I lost that life. I lost my husband. And I lost myself. But, eventually, I found my way through the darkness. I've made peace with my new life. I have my girls, and that's all that matters. They are my world. I have no illusions of ever falling in love again or getting whisked away on a white horse.

But then he came back into my life. On a freakin' motorcycle.

There's no way I'll let him turn my life completely upside down. Absolutely no way.

The question is...

How long can I keep pretending that I'm happy with my life being right-side up?

***

"What the _hell_?" I mutter to myself, eyeing my reflection. I scoot closer to the mirror, practically sitting on the counter, and inch my way forward to get a better look at what exactly is going on with my hair. My dark brown hair is damp, falling in wavy layers to my shoulders. This is normal. What's not normal is this one little area that's just not cooperating. I tug at the one inch section of my long hair that will not lie down. It's just sticking up, straight in the air, mocking me. Pulling on it, I notice that there's a thick white film covering the entire section. And it's sticky. _Great_.

I wipe my fingers on my old fluffy pink bathrobe and continue examining my hair in the mirror. This is _not_ right. I know I just put a new product in my hair, but it's supposed to make it soft and shiny like the gorgeous model on the commercial, not stick up like a ten year old boy with a cow lick. I grab the nearest brush, _My Little Pony – of course_ , and attempt to tame this bastard.

"This is freakin' ridiculous," I say out loud as the brush catches when I try to pass it through my hair. I yank the brush as hard as I can and literally cringe in pain. I think I just pulled the entire section of hair out of my head. When the brush finally makes its way down the rest of my long hair, I catch a whiff.

"Mint?" I set the brush on the counter and reach for the serum I just put in my hair. I put my nose to the end of the pump. "Hmm, not mint." I pick up the damp towel that just came off of my head and wet the end under the faucet in an attempt to get rid of whatever this mystery goop is in my hair. That's when I finally see the culprit.

"You have _got_ to be kidding me!" I suddenly want to rip every single strand of hair out of my head in frustration. I do _not_ want to deal with this mess this morning. I just want an easy morning. When do I get to have an easy morning?

"Kyndall!" I yell from the bathroom, echoes bouncing off each wall, slamming mercilessly back onto my skull. It hurts my head. Or, maybe that's just the residual pain from the recent hair assault I inflicted upon myself. I wait a couple of seconds...no response.

Hmm, this must mean that the TV which is _not_ supposed to be on, _is_ on.

"Kyndall!" I shout again, this time stomping my foot for added emphasis. I know she's the only one who can be responsible for this mess. Not only because her older sister wouldn't dare, or because her younger sister can't reach the sink, but because this sort of situation...well – it's just Kyndall. Like the time I found three days worth of my home cooked meals "hidden" in one of my decorative baskets in the kitchen. The brief stint at vegetarianism didn't last long, but it would have been nice if she would've at least told me about it. Lots of ground beef was wasted and I have a lot of boxed meals that require it.

Sighing loudly, I start to step out of the bathroom when I hear the steps of my lovely seven year old daughter getting closer. I watch her pink tutu skirt bounce up and down as she skips happily down the hallway.

"Yes, Mama?" Oh, so innocent.

"Baby? Can you tell me what's going on with the towel here? Can you tell me what this stuff is?" I bend down and hold the towel right in front of her face so she can see the blue goop to which I am referring.

I watch her eyebrows come together as a result of her full force concentration. "Um, toothpaste?"

"Yes, toothpaste. Can you tell me _why_ there's a big glob of it in the middle of my towel?"

"Well..." she pauses briefly and widens her eyes, obviously frustrated that I haven't figured it out on my own. "It was all hard when I tried to squeeze the tube to get more toothpaste out, so I did what you told me to do last time. I wiped off all the extra toothpaste from the top and started over."

So I guess, in essence, I have done this to myself.

Okay...

"Kyndall, sweetheart. I used a paper towel...not a towel, towel. We don't use regular towels for that kind of stuff."

Kyndall looks down at the towel and back up at me. "I'm sorry, Mama. I was just trying to do it myself."

I can't help but cave when I look at her beautiful blue-grey eyes. I just don't know how this sweet child always manages to get herself, or me for that matter, into these unfortunate situations. I let out a sigh.

"It's alright, Kyndall. Let's just forget the use of _any_ kind of towel. How about when it happens next time, you just rinse the top of the toothpaste under warm water to get the hard stuff off? Easy enough?"

"Yes ma'am." She reaches up to touch the toothpaste infested section of my hair. "Eww – that's sticky!" I lift my eyebrows, asking her if she really wants to reopen the argument. She drops her hand immediately. I assume that's a no.

I let out another deep breath. "Okay. Now, where are Nycole and Rylie?"

"They're watching cartoons in the living room."

Ah-ha! I knew it!

"Can you run and tell them to hurry and eat because we need to load up to leave in about five minutes or we're going to be late to school?"

"Sure."

"Thanks, baby."

"Mama?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"I love you infinity."

"I love you infinity times infinity."

I give her a quick kiss on the cheek. I turn her little body toward the door and give her a light shove. "Now go tell your sisters!" I joke and smack her little behind. She laughs and skips down the hall. I watch her thick shoulder length brown hair bouncing up and down with a smile on my face. Turning back towards the mirror, my smile dissipates.

I look at my tired eyes and pale face. I pull the skin down under my eyes to examine the red blood vessels that seem to have taken over. I think I used to be pretty, at some point...but that seems so long ago. Lately, I'm the frumpy mom that I always told myself I'd _never_ become. I mean sure, I dress decently enough for work. But I just look (and feel) so tired. Run down.

I don't generally wear a lot of make-up, so the fact that I have long dark eyelashes helps. But my big brown eyes that used to look so alive with excitement and joy have been replaced with sad, tired, mournful eyes. And my hair? Let's just say I support the ponytail look wholeheartedly.

I turn my attention back to my hair. Seriously, what am I supposed to do with this mess in five minutes? _Hmm...ponytail it is_. I sigh to myself as I think about how lovely it would be to actually _have_ time to do my hair in the morning, to style it with something other than a hair band. I mean, having an actual style would be nice. But, to be able to take the time to style it, well, that would be beyond comprehension..

I would be unrecognizable at work. I would walk in to the office and it would be like one of those hair commercials; wind in my hair, hot guy gazing at me adoringly because I have beautiful _styled_ hair. I would flip my hair in slow motion...

"Mama! Rylie's picking her nose again!" I hear loud shrieks as the girls start running around the living room. "Eww! Mom! She keeps acting like she's gonna wipe it on us! Help!"

Snapping out of my reverie, I quickly throw my thick brown hair back into its usual lame ass pony tail, trying to not think about the section of my hair that's starting to bubble up. The same section of hair that is slowly forming a crusty top layer as the toothpaste begins to dry.

_Oh well_ , I think to myself, turning on the sink and throwing some water on it to make myself feel better. Who knows, maybe I'll get lucky. Maybe the water has some magical mysterious element to dissolve the toothpaste. Giving myself one last look of disapproval, I dart quickly from the bathroom. I round the corner and enter the living room, finding all three of my beauties sitting quietly on the couch.

I guess the nose picking fiasco has ceased.

Nycole, my oldest, appears to be frozen in time; her spoon has only made it halfway to her mouth and seems to be stuck there. Brown curly hair perfectly braided, headband in and big brown eyes glued on the TV.

"Nyc." Nothing.

"Nyc." I clap my hands. Still nothing. Oh my God _. She's in the TV._

"Nyc!" I shout, giving it one last try. She jumps in response, milk and cereal immediately spilling onto her neatly pressed plaid skirt. She shoots me a glare. I shoot her one back because honestly, that's just uncalled for. I walk over and turn off the TV.

"I'm pretty sure I told you guys no TV. None of you have even remotely touched your breakfast, and now we have to go." They all look down at their full cereal bowls with huge, longing eyes.

"Sorry," I say, shaking my head in disbelief. "In the sink girls, come on...we've got to get going. We're already running late." I watch as they slowly get up from the couch and make their way to the kitchen.

"I told you not to turn it on, Kyndall. Now I don't get my breakfast. Way to go."

"Yeah, Kyndall. Nycole told you."

I stand there, arms crossed over my chest, waiting for them to make their way back to the living room. My eyes land on Nycole as soon as she enters.

"If you knew it wasn't supposed to be on, then why didn't _you_ turn it off, Nycole? Lead by example. Don't just place blame. You're nine years old and fully capable of operating the TV – I know you can because I've seen you do it. You know better." I end my statement with a raise of my eyebrows.

"Yeah, but–"

"Nope. No excuses."

"But–"

"Nyc ." I'm fully anticipating another rebuttal, but evidently she gets the point and stomps off. I guess she wants to make her point too. _Noted._

I turn my eyes to Kyndall. "Kyndall. You know better too, don't you?"

I watch as her eyes swell with tears. "Yes, but, I just wanted Rylie to be quiet. She kept copying everything I was saying. Everything Mama. She wouldn't stop. It was the only thing I could do to get her to be quiet. I'm sorry." She looks down at the floor. I walk over and raise her chin so she looks at me. "I know it's hard, but next time, just come get me. I can take care of her, that's _my_ job. You just come to me when she keeps doing stuff like that."

I wipe a tear from her cheek with my thumb. "I'm not mad sweetheart, okay? Just go wait by the door. I'll be there in a second." I give her shoulder a quick squeeze. She offers me a slight smile in return and makes her way to the front door.

I turn my attention to the hellion of the group. I watch her while she attempts to do the robot. She flashes me her trademark dimples, no doubt trying to diffuse the situation. Her long spiral curly hair falls forward along with her head, dance clearly over. Right arm extended and bent at the elbow, she ends with a perfectly performed "hinge move", her forearm still swinging back and forth. I stand there until she looks back up at me from underneath her mile long lashes, trying to wipe any evidence of a smile off of my face.

"Rylie, what did I say about copying your sisters?"

She giggles and responds with, _"Rylie, what did I say about copying your sisters?"_

I close my eyes and count to ten.

"Rylie?"

" _Rylie?"_

"Seriously, stop it."

" _Seriously, stop it."_

"I stink."

" _You stink."_ Damn it.

I attempt to use the only weapon I have at the moment. Silence.

I quickly scoop her up by her waist, wrapping her underneath my arm, and make a mad dash to the kitchen. She giggles hysterically. I could tell her I'm not trying to be funny, but I really hate the copying game, so I don't.

I manage to scoop up the three backpacks and my laptop case from the kitchen table with my other arm, _because I'm_ _super mom,_ and make my way to meet Nycole and Kyndall at the door. I set Rylie down gently. They all laugh with each other and I take a brief moment to look at my girls.

My girls; the loves of my life. Now the _only_ loves of my life and I'm content with that. This is my life and I accept it 100%. Sure, I would have chosen differently if I'd been given the chance, but it's my responsibility to teach these girls to make the most of what life has handed them. If I had just given up the day our Derek had been taken from this earth...where would we be now? No, I have to be strong for all of us.

Sure, some days are harder than others. I have breakdowns every now and then, but I think that's normal. And I try to shield the girls as much as I can from moments when mommy's feeling a bit "down". But these girls...they mean more to me than my own life. I'll do everything in my power to keep them from being hurt ever again. _That_ is what defines me. I already had my happiness and I live for them now. I'm okay with that.

Getting back to my already hectic morning, I take in a calming breath through my nose before opening the door. I hand the girls their lunches and back packs before herding them out of the house. While walking to the car in a single file line, Rylie (who's unfortunately walking in front of me) insists on stopping randomly every few seconds.

Bug on the ground. "Mommy, look!" She stops. I trip.

New flower identified in the yard. "Oh, smell this Mommy." She stops. I trip.

Half-eaten tootsie roll in the driveway. "We don't eat candy on the ground, right Mommy?" She stops. I trip.

Chewed up gum that Nycole spit out yesterday. _Didn't I ask her to pick that up and put it in the trash?_ "Um...Nycole didn't listen to you! I listen to you, Mommy." Rylie stops. I stop. And glare at Nycole.

I patiently stare; so intently, that I can actually see the synapse fire in her brain. Nycole walks over, picks up the gum, holds it as far away from her body as she can, and throws it in the outside trash can.

"Thanks, Nyc." I try to keep a straight face as she wipes her hands on her shirt. I mean, the gum did come out of her mouth; I'm not sure what the big deal is. I watch as she grabs the hand sanitizer out of her back pack and that does me in. I can't contain my snickering any longer.

"Seriously, Nyc. Is it that big of a deal? It's just a piece of gum...that came out of _your_ mouth."

"Mom, I can't believe you made me do that. It's been sitting in this nasty driveway since yesterday. That's just gross."

"Well...you could have thrown it away yesterday, like I asked you to do. Maybe next time, you won't ignore me when I ask you to do something. " I throw open the back of my Suburban and hurl my laptop case in, closing it just as quickly as it was opened. "Let's not do the drama queen thing this morning. I'd love to have just one morning where we all get al–"

"Kyndall! I called seat check!" Nycole yells while Kyndall snatches the seatbelt and quickly buckles herself in, excited grin on her face the entire time. Just _one_ morning is all I ask. Just one morning where we can make it to the car with no major catastrophes or ridiculous arguments.

"Nyc...just take another seat, _please_. We don't have time for this." I step up onto the side rail and reach over Rylie to buckle her in. Right after I hear the click of the seatbelt, I find myself grabbing at the arm of Rylie's booster seat for my life while my feet slip out from underneath me. I wince in pain as both of my shins scrape against the rail, from my ankles to my knees, until my feet finally reach the ground.

"Shit! Shit, shit, shit!" I yell, jumping around from the immense pain radiating from my lower legs. I can feel them pulsating and the pain makes my eyes water.

"Mom!"

"Mama, are you okay?"

"Um...Mommy said shit! Shit, shit, shit!"

I immediately stop jumping and turn to look at the girls. All of them have their mouths wide open, watching my very mature reaction to what just happened. Great. I'm sure Rylie's school will be calling me later today with the wonderful news that she has taught all of her classmates to say shit. Just. Freakin'. Wonderful.

"Rylie – we don't say shit. Don't. Say. Shit. Do you understand me?" Rylie nods her head, but smiles as though she has no intention of listening to me. I point my finger at her. "Don't say it, Rylie. I'm serious!" I watch her big brown eyes glance over at her sisters, mischievous grin still intact.

I look over and see Nycole and Kyndall covering their mouths and giggling as they watch our interaction. They're definitely not helping this situation any. And, although I really want to laugh with them, I can't. I know it will only encourage her, so I force the giggle back down my throat and address the other two. I can feel my mouth start to turn upwards, but I try to keep my face straight. I'm pretty sure it's not working, judging by Rylie's smile. I turn my eyes to the other girls in a last ditch effort to remedy the situation.

"Sorry guys. I should've handled that better. Can we just forget that any of this happened?" I look at them with pleading eyes. I watch a sly smile slowly spread across Nycole's face.

"I don't know, Mom. I think you should have to buy us something. You know, to keep us quiet." She throws in an exaggerated wink to make sure I get her point.

"Nyc, have you lost your ever livin' mind? You know I don't do things like that!" I look at all of them with my serious mom face and then I can't help but let out a chuckle, pain long forgotten. I roll my eyes in defeat. "Oh, alright...One thing at the gas station and that's it! Got it?"

They all squeal at once. "Yay! Love you, Mommy!"

I sigh. "I love you too, girls. More than you know."

Sitting behind the steering wheel, I let out a long, deep breath. _Gas or no gas...that is the question._ I was just at the freakin' gas station! I can't believe I didn't notice this sooner. Actually, now that I think about it, the low fuel level warning _has_ been chirping at me for a couple of days now.

Looking at the needle, I contemplate whether or not I can make the twelve mile drive from Rylie's daycare to my office without stopping for gas. 7:58 AM. It's not like I'm actually worried that Harlow will be pissed that I'm late...again. It just makes it easier to rationalize my decision to not get gas. I'm pretty sure there's a reserve gas tank built into these things, right? For procrastinators like me? Unless I'm already dipping into the reserve tank, which would prove to be rather unfortunate.

Shifting into drive, I inhale deeply and turn right to jump onto the interstate. I lose myself in my thoughts, thinking about this morning and how the chaos continued full force. After the gas station, where none of my children picked anything remotely healthy as their replacement breakfast, Nycole and Kyndall found themselves in a very heated discussion about whether or not one of Nycole's friends actually had Justin Bieber's phone number. A discussion that ended with high pitched screaming that I swear could have broken the sound barrier, and quite possibly my windows, but I had to side with Kyndall on this one.

Finally ridding my car of the feminine theatrics, I drove Rylie to her daycare. A bad habit I've developed is brushing her teeth while in the car at the parking lot of her school. A bad habit she's developed is literally aiming her sneezes at people. Both habits rolled into one? Well, that equaled another ill-fated incident involving toothpaste. Rylie laughed heartily at my expense after she aimed her toothpaste filled sneeze spray at my black shirt. I think my girls have decided to gang up on me using toothpaste as their 'modus operandi'. Seriously. With a toothpaste-splattered poplin top, I carried my four year old baby girl (who was still laughing by the way) into her classroom, quickly kissed her goodbye, and jetted out of there before she could use me as her latest show and tell demonstration.

I noticed the familiar warning regarding my gas level when I got back into my car. I guess I didn't hear it earlier this morning over my lovely children yelling and screaming at each other. Days like this, I really miss Derek. He always made sure I had enough gas to make the morning rounds. He absolutely hated when I had to get gas by myself and made every effort to make sure I never had to. After three years, you'd think I would have managed to not depend on my husband to still do certain things for me. Yet, three years later, here I am, once again on empty.

And now I find myself driving down I-35, becoming increasingly nervous that I made the _wrong_ decision. I push my foot down on the gas pedal to pass some poor old couple that evidently started driving when the Model T came out, when...nothing. My car starts slowing and as I push down on the pedal, I realize that I have indeed made the wrong decision. My car has stalled. I pull over to the side of the interstate and throw my car into park.

"Seriously? Can _anything_ go right today? Harlow's going to freakin' kill me!" Ten minutes late is still within Harlow's "not going to kick ass" window, but I have a sneaking suspicion that this is going to throw me into some unknown realm of Harlow fury.

I pull out my cell phone and punch in the number to our office.

"Prestige Staffing, Harlow Reed speaking." She sounds flustered already, so I'm definitely not looking forward to this conversation.

"Um, Harlow...it's Alex."

"What's up love? Are you on your way? We have that interview with the potential candidate for Synergy Accounting in, like, twenty minutes. So please, tell me you're on your way."

Not really sure how to break this to her, I opt to remain quiet while she figures it out herself.

Three...two...one...

"Tell me you're on your way, Alex! I can't do this one on my own. We both need to be here to make the decision. This one's too big for only my opinion. It's a freaking senior executive potential hire, Alex!"

Okay, Harlow's usually a little high strung, but this is a little out of the norm...even for her. _Odd._ Maybe the pressure has finally gotten to her.

You see, Harlow and I started our own staffing firm right out of college – Prestige Staffing. We started our own business so that we could smoke in our office all day long, consume adult beverages during work hours, and do nothing but giggle and gossip all day. However, we both eventually quit smoking, quickly figured out that we were no good at _anything_ while drinking and, since we couldn't get any business while intoxicated, we had absolutely nothing to giggle or gossip about. So, we decided to start taking our business seriously.

Currently, we're responsible for recruiting and interviewing potential hiring candidates for almost every company in Waco. Together, we can usually tell whether or not the person will be a good fit for the position before recommending them to the company for their own interviews. We have a proven track record, with over 95% of our referrals being placed with the companies. The commission on this potential candidate is HUGE. Yeah, Harlow's definitely pissed.

"Listen, I know you're upset–"

" _Upset?_ Are you fucking kidding me? I. Am. Pissed!" Yes, just as I'd figured.

"Listen, I ran out of gas on I-35. See if you can stall him for half an hour. I'll flag down an 18-wheeler if I have to. I _will_ be there. I've never let you down and I'm not going to start now. Just hold him there as long as you can, okay?"

"Okay, Alex. But hurry the hell up! I have no idea what to stall him with. We only have enough coffee for one pot and no breakfast because _you_ were supposed to pick that stuff up this morning, remember? I can't stall him forever with my witty banter and mile long legs; there's only so long that the poor man can ogle me. Your ass better be here in thirty minutes. Get. Here. ASAP." I'm pretty sure I hear about three more F-bombs before catching dead air.

Oops. Maybe it's a good thing I ran out of gas because neither the coffee nor the donuts made it into my possession today. I _knew_ there was an actual reason I went to that gas station this morning!

"I'll be there soon." I say to absolutely no one but myself.

I step out onto the interstate...well, the _side_ of the interstate, and attempt to flag the first few motorists I see. No luck. Obviously I'm not the only person running extremely late for work this morning. Sighing out loud, I resign myself to the fact that I'm probably going to have to walk to the nearest station, which will definitely put me outside Harlow's thirty minute time requirement. Turning on my heel to start the trek, I hear the rumble of a motorcycle slowing down behind me.

I hesitantly turn around, using my hand to shield the sun from my eyes, to catch a glimpse of whatever scary biker man has decided to be my hero this morning. I fully expect to see an old man with a beer belly and bandana covered head; complete with B.O., missing teeth, and a sweat stained wife beater. _Like the hook-handed truck driver from Adventures in Babysitting!_ I am, however, pleasantly surprised by the delicious mirage that appears before me.

I watch the man lift his right leg over the bike and place it on the ground. Wow. This guy is huge and freakin' tall. But anything would be tall to me, considering my five foot frame.

I hear the slow clanking of the buckles on his boots as he starts to walk toward me. _Man, those are some freakin' masculine boots._ My eyes slowly graze upwards and I notice the worn look of his jeans; frayed a bit at the bottom, holes at the knee and snug at the hips. Do I dare keep going? Seriously, the temperature just raised 20°C out here. And this _is_ Texas...in late August...

Not easily deterred, I do, in fact, keep going. His white v-neck t-shirt is stretched as far as it can go across his chest and biceps, falling a little more loosely over his stomach, while still managing to hug his hips. _OMG._ I'm totally not going to look any further; I can sense disappointment on the horizon.

_Damn it._ My eyes have a mind of their own as they keep wandering upward. I catch a glimpse of his light brown hair. It falls to his neck, with shorter layers everywhere, making the ends turn up slightly all over his head. It's a hot mess. I never knew what that term meant until this moment right now. It's perfectly messy. I wish my hair looked that good. I reach up and attempt to push down the bubbly toothpaste section of my hair. Okay, I'm actually starting to find this guy annoying.

I figure it's better to just look at his face and get it over with. Like ripping off a band aid, the quicker the better, right? Either it will be horrendous, which at this point I'd prefer because no one should be this perfect, or he'll be completely gorgeous and then I'll keel over and die right here of embarrassment. Either way, I'd like to just get this part over with.

I quickly glance to his face. I privately note his sculpted jaw, perfect nose, and his beautiful mouth, his perfectly kissable mouth. And his perfect teeth, all of which I can now see because as he's getting closer to me he's...laughing at me? _What the hell?_

I'm about to give this random man a piece of my mind when I happen to catch a glimpse of his eyes. I find them a vaguely familiar shade of green, a light olive green. I narrow my eyes, allowing myself to really look at him. I look at his eyes, then his face, then his hair, then his shirt, jeans and boots. Oh. My. God.

"Well, Blake Morgan. What the hell are you doing back in town?"

* * * *

Available now in paperback form at most online retailers.

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