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day?”
    “Parker’s every day, as she’s obsessive. I’m a three-day-a-week girl. Four if I’m feeling frisky. This is usually an off day, but I came up with a design for the crying bride and it motored me up.”
    “Have you got something you can show me?” Parker demanded.
    “See, obsessive.” Laurel switched to roll-ups. “Later. Now I want to hear about the irritable.”
    “How can you do that?” Being full of irritable, Emma snarled. “It’s like somebody’s pulling you up with an invisible rope.”
    “Abs of steel, baby.”
    “I hate you.”
    “Who could blame you? I deduce irritable equals man,” Laurel continued. “So I require all details.”
    “Actually—”
    “Jeez, what is this? Ladies Day at the Brown Gym?” Mac strolled in, stripping off a hooded sweatshirt.
    “I think it’s Snowcones in Hell Day.” Laurel paused. “What are you doing here?”
    “I come here sometimes.”
    “You look at a picture of here sometimes and consider that a workout.”
    “I’ve turned over a new leaf. For my health.”
    “Bullshit,” Laurel said, grinning.
    “Okay, bullshit. I’m pretty sure I’m going with strapless for the wedding gown. I want amazing arms and shoulders.” Turning to the mirror, Mac flexed. “I have good arms and shoulders, but that’s not enough.” She let out a sigh as she wiggled out of sweat-pants. “And I’m becoming an obsessed, fussy bride. I hate me.”
    “But you’ll be an obsessed, fussy bride who looks fabulous in her wedding dress. Here,” Parker said, “see what I’m doing.”
    Mac frowned. “I see it, but I don’t think I’ll like it.”
    “You just keep it steady and smooth. I’m going to cut back the resistance a bit.”
    “Are you intimating I’m a weenie?”
    “I’m avoiding all the moaning and crying you’d do tomorrow if you started at my level. I do this three times a week.”
    “You do have really good arms and shoulders.”
    “Plus I have it on good authority my ass looks great in these pants. Okay, smooth and steady. Fifteen reps, set of three.” Parker gave Mac a pat. “Now, hopefully that’s the last interruption. Emma, you have the floor.”
    “She’s already on the floor,” Mac pointed out.
    “Shh. Emma’s irritable this morning because . . .”
    “I went over to Adam and Vicki’s last night—the MacMillians?—which I hadn’t planned on because yesterday was a full book and today’s another. I’d had a really good day, especially the last consult, and spent time writing up the contracts and notes, decided I’d make a little dinner, have a movie, an early night.”
    “Who called and talked you into going out with him?” Mac asked as she frowned her way through the first set.
    “Sam.”
    “Sam’s the hot computer nerd who defies that oxymoron despite—or maybe because of—the Buddy Holly glasses.”
    “No.” Emma shook her head at Laurel. “That’s Ben. Sam’s the ad exec with the great smile.”
    “The one you decided not to date anymore,” Parker added.
    “Yes. And it wasn’t actually a date. I said no to dinner, no to him picking me up. But . . . okay I caved on the party, and agreed to meet him there. I told him I wasn’t going to sleep with him—full disclosure—two weeks ago. But I don’t think he believes me. But Addison was there—third cousin, I think, my father’s side. She’s great, and just exactly his type. So I got to introduce them, and that was good.”
    “We should offer a matchmaking package,” Laurel suggested, and started on leg lifts. “Even if we launched it just with the guys Emma wants to brush off, we could double our business.”
    “Brush off has negative connotations. I redirect. Anyway Jack was there.”
    “Our Jack?” Parker asked.
    “Yeah, which turned out to be lucky for me. I ducked out early, and halfway home, my car conks. Just cough, choke, die. And it’s snowing, and it’s dark, I’m freezing , and that stretch of road is deserted, of course.”
    As