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All.”
    Nick swallowed hard. “He seemed really into it.”
    “As were you. As was I. Stop putting on that front, Nick. We’re all very good friends here.”
    “Yeah, but I’m wondering how friendly Drake wants to get with me!”
    She cackled like a witch, and in his mind’s eye Nick saw her rubbing her little hands together. “How friendly you get with William is purely up to you. I’m not pro or con. But if we get together again, I insist we all leave happy afterward.”
    Nick inhaled a long breath. His voice sounded far away to his own ears as he made his proposal. “How about we hang out tonight? The three of us, I mean. I can throw some food together and--”
    “I’m already sold. I’ll contact William and work out the logistics.”
    After they clicked off, Nick sighed. Emily had the right idea. Either do it or don’t, but feeling guilty wouldn’t get his needs met.
    It’s on.

    * * * *

    “Good evening, comrades. Come on in. Dinner will be ready in about fifteen minutes, so take a seat.” Nick led them inside the apartment and pointed at the liquor cabinet. “It’s freshly stocked so, Emily, if you don’t mind playing bartender while I’m in the kitchen, I’ll see you two in the dining room.”
    “Works for me. What are we eating tonight?”
    “Italian,” Nick replied, a proud grin brightening his handsome face. “I made my own sauce and everything.”
    “I’ll make a housewife outta you, yet!” Emily teased.
    William nodded at his host before sitting in the very spot he’d occupied during their talk earlier in the week. Despite the forced jokes, the tension was thick enough for him to wonder if he’d miscalculated. Nick Scott wasn’t shaping up to be the good-time boy of William’s fevered imaginings. In fact, of the trio, he appeared to be the most sensitive, fearing any breaks with convention. The man’s bravado was an act, and that knowledge both thrilled and fascinated William.
    “Your drink, Monsieur .” Emily handed him a glass and slumped beside him. She wore her reddish-brown hair loose for a lovely change, and he noted with appreciation that she’d taken time with her make-up, outlining her hazel eyes with kohl pencil, and dabbing on a shimmering rose-hued lip gloss. From the neck down, however, she maintained her standard casual attire: crisp, white button-down shirt, blue jeans and sexy black ankle boots.
    When they’d first begun dating, William asked her why she didn’t wear more feminine attire. She’d rolled her eyes. “I wear a skirt to work at least twice a week. On the other days, I’m forced to wear women’s business suits. When I’m on my own time, acting as my own boss, I’ll always choose comfort over style. So, if you expect to ever see me tottering around on stilettos, baby, you’re going to be disappointed.”
    William had not been disappointed. Dating low maintenance women certainly had its benefits. Emily had usually required less mirror-time than he had during the few occasions she’d stayed with him overnight. She’d never once asked him if she looked fat. She ate how and what she wanted, working off any extra calories whenever she felt the need to get back in shape. Best of all, they’d never been late for dinner because she’d wasted an extra hour figuring out what dress looked better with what shoes.
    Emily patted his thigh, leaning in close. “You know what? This is the best I’ve felt in a long time. I’m actually at peace. Comfortable. Maybe even a little happy.”
    “I know, Em. I can see it. I’m happy you’re happy.”
    “Is it crazy of me to want this--this thing between us to work itself out somehow? We could be like that polygamist show on cable!”
    William looked doubtful. “Unless Nick and I volunteer to stay home with the children, I don’t see that happening.”
    “Truer words have never been spoken. See? You know me better than you thought.” She kicked off her boots and rested her head on his chest, listening to