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you’d help me if I needed it. You always
have. And I appreciate what you said last night about not wanting just a
one-night stand with me. I got caught up in the heat of the moment and you did
the right thing by walking away so my convictions weren’t convoluted by alcohol
and your seriously sexy and very naked body. That doesn’t make me feel better,
though. Can you understand that?”
    He stared at me, coffee cup in one hand, keys to his
apartment in the other. What likely went through his mind was something along
the lines of “Why do I even bother with this one?” I certainly wouldn’t blame
him for thinking that.
    No other woman seemed to require him to jump through hoops
when showered with attention from him. I’d seen how other girls responded to
him. They’d do just about anything to turn his head and they hung on his every
word. Mike could make a woman roll over and spread her legs with little more
than a wink and a smile. I’d seen them melt right off their stools at bars and
parties and the coffeehouse on the corner.
    I did not want to be one of them.
    “I’m the one who said and did all the wrong things last
night,” I told him. “Now I’m stuck with the admission I made about wanting you
to fuck me, but I don’t have to act on it.”
    He countered with a sharp retort. “You think you’re the only
one skating on thin ice, Lace, but that’s not true. You’re not the only one who
made a damning admission you’re stuck with.”
    His words about trying to find someone who would help to get
me out of his head flashed in my mind as he continued.
    “I wouldn’t have kissed you if I was seeing someone else
right now. I didn’t try to trap you into telling me you want me for the sake of
rubbing it in your face. And if I bring Chinese over for dinner tonight, it’s
because, no matter what, we’re still friends. Got it?”
    I let out a long breath. How many dinners had we eaten in my
living room while watching a movie or rehashing our day with each other? Dozens
and dozens. Maybe hundreds over the course of three years. And yes, he’d
flirted. But he’d never taken advantage—just as he hadn’t last night when I’d
given him the prime opportunity in which to do so.
    I didn’t want to be a heel or mess up our friendship. I had
no idea what I’d do if we were seriously on the outs. So I gave in.
    “I’ll try to be home by seven,” I said, contrite and
remorseful I was acting as though I’d been the only one to dig a hole I
couldn’t get out of. The things he’d said to me in my apartment had not gone
over my head. I simply chose not to ruminate over them, because that hole would
only get deeper if I did. But he deserved more from me than the cold shoulder.
“And I’ll try to be less of a bitch.”
    He laughed. Deep and hearty, taking me aback. Then again,
maybe I shouldn’t have been surprised. He’d always been tried and true with me.
The complication was me, not him.
    Being the wonderful person he was, he said, “You’re not a
bitch, Lace. You’re a good friend and I don’t want to screw anything up between
us anymore than you do. But come on. We can only pretend for so long we’re not
into each other.”
    My brow jerked up. “Pretend?” He’d been in hot pursuit of me
since the wedding.
    With a grin, he said, “Okay, it’s no secret. But just chill
out for two seconds and we’ll see what’s what.”
    I shrugged. Put like that, I felt dumb for getting so worked
up. We weren’t dating, hadn’t slept with each other and he hadn’t declared his
undying love for me. So why was I so uptight about sharing a couple boxes of
Chinese takeout with him tonight, when we’d done that very thing regularly
since I’d moved in?
    Securing the strap of my laptop bag more firmly on my
shoulder, I said, “Consider me chilled out.” I gave him a smile and then
continued down the hallway to the elevator.
    Outside my building, the doorman hailed a passing cab for
me. I gave the driver an