SHE SETTLED ON A DRESS IN A BREEZY PRINT. CASUAL, EMMA determined, simple and almost sweet with the little cropped sweater she paired with it. And what she wore under it was lethal.

Pleased with the results, she did a final turn in the mirror before giving the bedroom a close inspection. Candles for soft, romantic light, lilies and roses for romantic scents. The CD player set on low with a quiet, romantic mix ready to play.

Pillows plumped, shades drawn.

It was, she decided, a female den of seduction. She was damn proud of it. Now all she needed was the man.

She walked downstairs to make sure everything was ready on that front. Wine, glasses, candles, flowers. Music again, still low but more upbeat than the mix waiting upstairs. She turned it on, adjusted the volume, then circled around lighting the candles.

They'd have some wine, she thought, and talk. Then a meal and more conversation. They'd never had problems with conversation. Even though they knew where the evening was headed - maybe because they knew - they'd be able to talk, relax, just enjoy each other's company before they -

She spun around when the door opened, giddy nerves dancing. And Laurel walked in.

"Hey, Em, can I get you to put together a couple of . . ." Laurel stopped, lifted her eyebrows as she looked around the room. "You've got a date. You have a sex date."

"What? What's wrong with you? Where do you come up with - "

"How long have I known you? This side of forever? You put out new candles. You have foreplay music on."

"I put out new candles all the time, and I happen to like this mix."

"Let me see your underwear."

Emma choked out a laugh. "No. You want me to make up a couple what?"

"That can wait. I have twenty bucks that says you have on the sexing underwear." Laurel strode over, started to tug at the bodice of Emma's dress - and got her hand slapped away.

"Cut it out."

"You took a bath in the tonight's-the-night bubbles." Laurel sniffed. "I can smell it."

"So what? I often have dates. Sometimes I have sex dates. I'm a grown woman. I can't help it if you haven't had sex in six months."

"Five months, two weeks, three days. But who's counting?" Laurel stopped again, sucked in an exaggerated breath as she pointed at Emma. "You have a sex date with Jack."

"Stop it. Will you stop it? You're freaking me out."

"When is he getting here? What's the plan?"

"Soon, and I'm still working on the plan. But it doesn't include you being here. At all. Go away now."

Ignoring the order, Laurel folded her arms. "Is it the white 'I'm a good girl but I can be bad' underwear or the black 'I'm only wearing this so you can rip it off me, big boy' underwear? I need to know."

Emma cast her eyes to the heavens. "It's the red with the black roses."

"We may need to call the paramedics. If you're functional tomorrow, can you make me up three mini arrangements? Just mixed spring types? I have a consult and little springy flowers would set the mood for what I think the client wants."

"Sure. Go home."

"I'm going, I'm going."

"You're stopping at Mac's to tell her before you go home and tell Parker."

Laurel paused at the door, flicked back the hair that fell over her cheek. "Duh. And I'm going to ask Mrs. G if she'll make frittatas for breakfast so we can fuel up while you give us all the details."

"I have a full day tomorrow."

"Me, too. Seven A.M., food and sex recap. Good luck tonight."

Resigned, Emma let out a sigh and decided she wouldn't wait for Jack to have a glass of wine. The trouble with friends, she thought as she went to the kitchen, was they knew you too well. Sex date, foreplay music, sexing underwear. No secrets among . . .

She stopped with the bottle in hand. Jack was a friend. Jack knew her very well. Wouldn't he . . . ?

What if he . . . ?

"Oh, shit!"

She poured a very large glass of wine. Before she could take the first sip, she heard the knock on her door.

"Too late," she murmured. "Too late to change a thing. Time to see what happens, and deal with it."

She set the wine down, went to the door.

He'd changed, too, she noted. Khakis instead of jeans, a crisp shirt instead of a chambray. He carried a large take-out bag from her favorite Chinese restaurant, and a bottle of her preferred cabernet. Sweet, Emma thought. And certainly another advantage of being friends.

"When you said you'd bring food you meant it." She took the bag from him. "Thanks."

"You like a little - and that's usually very little - of everything. So I got a variety." He cupped the back of her neck, leaned in to kiss her. "Hi again."

"Hi back again. I just poured myself a glass of wine. Why don't I make it two?"

"I'd say yes. How'd the work go?" he asked when he followed her to the kitchen. "You were pretty much buried in it when I was here earlier."

"We got it done. The next few days are wall-to-wall, but we'll get that done, too." She poured a second glass, offered it. "How about your summer kitchen?"

"It's going to rock. I don't know how much use the clients will get out of it, but it's going to look great. I'll need to talk to you about the work here. Your second cooler. I dropped some preliminary sketches at Parker's when I was by before, for the changes there, and Mac's plans are finished. After spending a little time in your cooler today, it's easy to see why you need another one. I like your dress."

"Thanks." Watching him, she sipped her wine. "I guess we've got other things to talk about, too."

"Where do you want to start?"

"I keep thinking it's a lot, but I realized it really comes down to two things, and they both grow out of one root. We're friends. We are friends, aren't we, Jack?"

"We're friends, Emma."

"So the first thing is I think friends should tell each other the truth. Be honest. If we realize, after tonight, that it's just not what we expected - or if either of us feel like, well, that was nice, but I'm finished - we should be able to say so. No hard feelings."

Reasonable, straightforward, and without sticky edges or invisible strings. Perfect. "I can go with that."

"The second is staying friends." Worry wove through the words as she watched him. "That's the most important thing. Whatever happens, however it works out, we need to promise each other we'll be friends. Not just for you and me, but for everyone we're connected to. We can say it's just sex, Jack, but sex isn't a just. Or it shouldn't be. We like each other. We care about each other. I don't want anything to change that."

He brushed a hand down her hair. "Blood oath or pinky swear?" he asked and made her laugh. "I can promise you that, Emma. Because you're right. Friends." He eased over to kiss her cheeks, one, then the other, before rubbing his lips lightly over hers.

"Friends." She repeated the gesture so they stood, lips a breath apart, eyes locked. "Jack? How did we ever keep from doing this all these years?"

"Hell if I know." He touched his lips to hers again, then took her hand. "We were at the beach," he said as he led her to the stairs.

"What?"

"We'd gone to the beach for a week. All of us. A friend of Del's lent us his place - his parents' place, I guess - in the Hamptons. It was the summer before you started this place."

"Yes. I remember. We had the best time."

"One morning early, I couldn't sleep, so I walked down to the beach. And I saw you. For a minute - just a second or two, really - I didn't realize it was you. You were wearing this long scarf thing tied around your waist, lots of wild colors, and it blew around your legs. You had on a red bathing suit under it."

"You . . ." She literally had to catch her breath. "You remember what I was wearing?"

"Yes, I do. And I remember your hair was longer than it is now, halfway down your back. All those mad curls flying. Bare feet. All that golden skin, wild colors, mad curls. My heart just stopped. I thought: That's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. And I wanted that woman, in a way I'd never wanted one before."

He stopped, turned a little as she simply stared at him. "Then I saw it was you. You walked off, down the beach, the surf foaming up over your bare feet, your ankles, your calves. And I wanted you. I thought I'd lost my mind."

She wouldn't be able to catch her breath much longer, she realized. Wouldn't be able to think. Wouldn't want to be able to think.

"If you'd walked down to me, looked at me the way you're looking at me now, you'd have had me."

"Worth waiting for." He kissed her long, slow, deep, then walked with her into the bedroom. "Nice," he said, noting the flowers, the candles.

"Even friends should fuss a little, I think." Because it would calm her, and set the mood, she picked up the lighter, wandered the room setting candles to flame.

"Nicer." He smiled when she switched on the music.

She turned to him, with the room between them. "I'm going to be honest with you, Jack - as promised. I have a weakness for romance, the trappings, the gestures. I also have a weakness for passion, the quick and the crazed. I'll take you either way. And tonight, you can take me, any way you want."

With those words, with Emma standing in candlelight, he was utterly seduced. He crossed to her, and she to him so they met in the center of the room. He combed his fingers through her hair, drawing it back from her face, lowering his lips to hers slowly. Tonight, he would do all in his power to exploit all her weaknesses.

She gave, her body soft in surrender to echo the kiss. Warmth layered on warmth, longing wrapped in anticipation. When he swept her up to carry her to the bed, those dark eyes went slumberous.

"I want to touch you everywhere I've dreamed of touching you." Slowly, he slid his hand under her dress, along her thigh. "Everywhere."

He kissed her again, hints of greed now, of possession, while his fingers feathered over her skin, over the lace that barely covered her. She bowed up at his touch, offering more. His lips trailed down her throat in whispers as he slid the sweater down her arms. Then in a fast, rough move, he flipped her over to graze his teeth over her shoulder. When he straddled her to ease down the zipper at the back of her dress, she looked over her shoulder. Her smile was full of secrets.

"Need any help?"

"I think I've got it."

"I think you do. Since I'm not in a position to do it myself, take off your shirt."

He unbuttoned it, peeled it off while she watched him. "I've always liked watching you shirtless around here in the summer. I like this even better." She rolled over again. "Undress me, Jack, and touch me. Everywhere."

She moved under him, lazy, teasing motions as he drew the dress over her head, and felt the sizzle of pleasure as his gaze traveled over her.

"You're spectacular." He traced the edges of red lace, the tiny black petals. "This may take a while."

"No rush."

When he lowered his lips again, she let herself steep in the sensation of being explored. Inch by inch, he'd said, and he was a man of his word. He touched, he tasted, he lingered until her quivers became trembles and the perfumed air thickened.

Generous curves, skin gold in candlelight, her hair spread out in lush coils of black silk. He'd thought her beautiful, always, but tonight she was a banquet willing to allow him a feast. Every time he came back to those soft, lush lips, she gave a little more. He guided her up, slowly, slowly, felt her rise and rise, then crest and break.

Sensation drenched her, sweet and hot and lovely.

"My turn." She pushed herself up to link her arms around his neck, to fix her mouth to his. She shifted, nudging him over and back. Now she explored, strong shoulders, hard chest, firm belly. And teased his zipper down to free him.

"I'd better - "

"I'll take care of it."

She took a condom out of her nightstand and took her time pleasuring him in the act of protection. Her hands, her lips set every muscle quivering until he gripped her hair, dragged her up. "Now."

"Now."

She slid down, bowed up. And took him into her.

The shiver ran through her, bright, silver-edged - a shimmering in the blood - as she began to move. Slowly, to draw out every drop of pleasure, with her eyes on his. He gripped her hips, fighting to let her set the torturous pace. As her hands ran down her body in glorious abandon, he ached from the sight of her. Her skin glowed, like gold dust set to flame with her black velvet eyes shimmering in the flickering light. His pulse beat in wild drums while she took her fill. And fisting around him, she shuddered over the edge.

He levered up, rolled her to her back. On her gasp he pushed her knees up. "My turn."

He let control snap.

The sleepy, shimmering pleasure flashed to frenzy. She cried out from the shock of it as he drove her in fast, powerful thrusts. Lost, thrilled, she met the unreasoned demand beat for beat. The orgasm ripped through her, filled her, then hollowed her out.

She lay helpless, quivering even as he took more and reached his own. He collapsed on her, undone. He felt her quaking beneath him, felt the hammer strikes of her heart, and still her hand came up to stroke his back in a gesture of affection that was so utterly Emma. Jack closed his eyes a moment. He'd lost his wind, had probably lost his mind. He lay, breathing her in, absorbing the way her body, completely relaxed now, felt under his.

"Well, since we promised to be honest," he began, "I have to tell you that didn't do much for me."

Under him she laughed and pinched his ass. "Yeah, it's a shame. I guess we just don't have any chemistry."

He grinned, lifted his head. "No chemistry. That's why we blew up the lab."

"Lab, hell. We leveled the building." She sighed, long and deep as she stroked her hands down. "God, you've got a nice ass. If I may say so."

"You may, and, baby, you, too."

She smiled up at him. "Look at us."

He kissed her, softly, then again with light affection. "Are you hungry? I'm starving. How do you feel about cold Chinese?"

"I feel perfectly fine about it."

T HEY ATE AT HER KITCHEN COUNTER, DIGGING NOODLES, SWEET and sour pork, and Kung Pao chicken right out of the cartons.

"Why do you eat like that?" he asked.

"Like what?"

"In microscopic bites."

"Well." She worked her way through a single noodle as he topped off her wineglass. "It started as a way to needle my brothers, and became a habit. Whenever we'd get a treat, ice cream or candy, whatever, they'd just scarf theirs down. It drove them crazy that I'd have some of mine left. So I started eating even slower so I'd have more left and make them crazier. Anyway, I eat less and enjoy it more this way."

"I bet." Jack purposely shoveled a huge forkful of noodles into his mouth. "You know, your family's part of your appeal."

"Is it?"

"Your family's probably part of the reason you're appealing, but I meant they're all . . . great," he decided for lack of better. "They're great."

"I'm lucky. Of the four - well, six of us counting you and Del - I'm the only one with the whole shot. The Browns were amazing. You didn't know them very well, but I grew up here almost as much as at home. And they were amazing. It was devastating for all of us when they died."

"Del was wrecked. I liked them a lot. They were fun, interesting people. Involved people. Losing your parents so suddenly, both of them, out of the blue, it has to be the worst. Divorce is hard on a kid, but . .

."

"It is hard. It was tough on Mac when we were little, then it happened again. And again. For Laurel I think it came out of nowhere. She was a teenager, and suddenly her parents are splitting up and then they're not, then they're whatever they are. She hardly ever sees them. It couldn't have been easy for you, either."

"It was rough, but it could've been a lot rougher." He shrugged and ate. It wasn't something he liked to dwell on. Why dwell on something painful that couldn't be changed? "Both my parents made a real effort not to play tug-of-war with me, and they managed to keep it civilized. Eventually, they figured out how to be friendly."

"They're both nice people, and they both love you. It makes a difference."

"We do okay." And he'd learned "okay" sometimes had to be good enough. "Plus I think we do better with the distance. My mother has her second family, my father his." His tone was a shrug, despite the fact he'd never reconciled himself to the ease with which they'd gone their separate ways, made their separate lives. "It got smoother all around when I went off to college. Smoother yet when I decided to move here."

He studied her as he drank some wine. "Your family, on the other hand, is like one of those rubber band balls you make, all twisted together into a solid core." He considered for a moment. "Are you going to tell them about this?"

She blinked. "Ah. I don't know. If they ask me, but I don't know why any of them would."

"Could be sticky."

"They like you. And they know I've had sex. They might be surprised. I mean, I'm surprised. But I don't see anyone having a problem with it."

"Good. That's good."

"The girls are fine with it."

"The girls?" Those smoky eyes widened. "You told the others we were going to sleep together?"

"We're girls, Jack," she said dryly.

"Right."

"Plus I thought, before, that you and Mac had been together."

"Whoa."

"Well, I thought you had, so I had to say something to her because of the Rule, and by the time we got that straightened out, everybody knew I was thinking about you and sex in the same sentence."

"I never slept with Mac."

"I know that now. I didn't, however, know you kissed Parker."

"That was a long time ago. And it wasn't really . . . Okay, it was, but it didn't work." He dug out more pork.

"And you kissed Mrs. G. You man-slut."

"Now that might've worked. I don't think we gave it enough time."

She grinned at him, poked at some chicken. "What does Del think?"

"About me kissing Mrs. Grady?"

"No. You and me. This."

"I don't know. I'm not a girl."

She paused with the glass halfway to her lips. "You haven't talked to him about it? He's your best friend."

"My best friend is going to want to kick my ass for thinking about touching you, much less doing what we just did upstairs."

"He, too, knows I've had sex."

"I'm not sure that's true. He puts that in another dimension. The other-dimension Emma has sex." Jack shook his head. "You, not so much."

"If we're going to be together in bed, I'm not going to treat it like some illicit affair. He'll find out. You'd better say something to him before he does. Because if you don't, and he does, he will kick your ass."

"I'll figure it out. There's just one more thing, since we're on all this. Since we're together like this, I'd like to know that we're not together with anyone else like this. Is that a problem?"

She sipped her wine wondering why he'd have to ask. "Blood oath or pinky swear?" When he laughed, she took another sip. "If I'm sleeping with a man, I don't see anyone else. It's not only rude and against my principles, but it's too much trouble."

"Good. So it's you and me."

"It's you and me," she repeated.

"I have to be on-site at seven."

Here it comes, she thought. Early day tomorrow, honey. It was great. I'll call you.

"Any objection if I stay, since I'd need to get up at about five?"

Her lips curved. "No objection."

J ACK DISCOVERED WHEN THEY FINALLY SLIPPED TOWARD SLEEP that Emma was a snuggler. The sort of woman who burrowed in and wrapped around. He was generally a man who liked his space. Space kept a man from getting tangled up - literally and metaphorically.

But he found, under the circumstances, he didn't really mind.

She fell asleep like a stone dropped in a pond. Up and moving one minute, submerged the next. He was a drifter, with the movie reel of the day's events and the previews of the next running through his mind as his body settled down.

So he drifted, with Emma's head nestled in the curve of his shoulder, her arm flung around his waist, and her leg twined between his.

He woke, in nearly the same position, about six hours later to the beep of his cell phone's alarm. And as he woke to the scent of her hair, she was his first conscious thought. His attempt to ease away without waking her resulted in causing her to snuggle closer. Even as his body cheerfully responded, he tried to nudge her away.

She said, "Hmmmm?"

"Sorry. I've got to get going."

"Time's it?"

"Just after five."

She sighed again, then lifted her mouth to brush his lips with hers. "I've got about an hour. Too bad you don't."

He'd managed to shift her so they were front to-front, and her hand was making slow, lazy circles over his ass.

"There are two things I'm finding really convenient at the moment."

"What?"

"Being the boss, so I don't get fired for being late. Even more, my own habit of keeping spare work clothes in the trunk. If I leave right from here, I've got most of an hour."

"Convenient. Want coffee?"

"That, too," he said, and rolled on top of her.

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