"I'm feeling pretty damn friendly."
Her eyes went soft as she reached out to lay her hand on his cheek. "We're friends."
"We are."
"More, we have friends who are friends. So many connections. So as much as I'd like to say 'what the hell, let's try out that couch, then the bed and maybe take round three on the floor-' "
"Emmaline." His eyes were deep, dark smoke. "You're killing me."
"Sex isn't a kiss on the back stairs. Even a really great kiss on the back stairs. So we have to think and so on before we decide. I refuse to not be friends with you, Jack, just because right now I really want you naked. You're important."
He heaved a sigh. "I wish you hadn't said that. You're important. You always have been."
"Then let's take a little time and think this through." She eased back and began to button her shirt.
"You don't know how sorry I am to see you do that."
"Yes, I do. About as sorry as I am to do it. Don't get up," she said, and got to her feet, picked up the purse she'd dropped when he'd grabbed her. "If it's any consolation, I'm going to have a miserable night thinking about what would've happened if we hadn't stopped to think."
"It isn't, because I'm going to have the same."
"Well." She glanced back as she headed for the door. "You started it."
IN THE MORNING, AFTER THE PREDICTED MISERABLE NIGHT, Emma wanted the comfort of pals and Mrs. Grady's pancakes. She bargained with herself. She could have the pals, no question, but she could only have the pancakes if she first faced the dreaded home gym.
She dragged on her gear and began the resented, caffeine-deprived trudge to the main house. On the way, she veered toward Mac's studio. She could see no good reason why her friend shouldn't suffer along with her.
Without thinking she walked right in, angled toward the kitchen. There was Mac, in cotton boxers and a tank, leaning against the counter with a wide grin and a cup of coffee. And Carter opposite her, mirroring the pose and the grin, in his tweed jacket.
She should've knocked, Emma thought instantly. She had to remember to start knocking now that Carter lived here, too.
Mac glanced her way, lifted her cup in casual greeting. "Hey."
"Sorry."
"Are you out of coffee again?"
"No, I-"
"There's plenty," Carter told her. "I made a full pot."
Emma gave him a sorrowful look. "I don't know why you have to marry her instead of me."
The tips of his ears went a little pink, but he shrugged. "Well, maybe if things don't work out . . ."
"He thinks he's cute," Mac said dryly. "And damn it, he's right." She stepped over, gave his tie a tug.
The kiss was light and sweet, to Emma's eye. The kind of morning kiss between lovers who knew there would be time, lots of time, for deeper, hotter kisses.
She envied the light and sweet outrageously.
"Go to school, Professor. Enlighten young minds."
"That's the plan." He picked up his briefcase, brushed his hand over Mac's bright hair. "See you tonight. Bye, Emma."
"Bye."
He opened the door, glanced back, and rapped his elbow on the jamb. "Damn it," he muttered, and closed the door behind him.
"He does that about every third time he . . . What's with you?" Mac demanded. "You went all blushy."
"Nothing." But she caught herself rubbing her own elbow and remembering. "Nothing. I just stopped by on my way over to the torture chamber. I plan on begging Mrs. G for pancakes after I've suffered."
"Give me two minutes to change."
While Mac dashed upstairs, Emma paced. There had to be a simple, subtle, sensible way to explain to Mac what had happened with Jack. What was happening with Jack. To ask her for dispensation from the no-sleeping-with-friends'-exes rule.
Mac and Jack were friends, so that had to be a point. And more, bigger, huge, was the fact that Mac was madly and totally in love with Carter. She was getting married, for God's sake. What kind of friend would hold another friend to the no-exes rule when she was getting married to Mr. Adorable?
It was just selfish and narrow-minded and mean.
"Let's go before I change my mind." With a hoodie flopping open over a sports bra and bike pants, Mac jogged into the kitchen. "I can feel my bis and tris beefing up. Killer arms, you are mine!"
"Why do you have to be that way?" Emma demanded.
"Way? What?"
"We've been friends since we were babies. I don't know why you'd be so hard-assed about this when you don't want him."