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thing she wanted to do was incinerate their friendship.
    She loved that they fought over everything from infomercials to world politics. She loved the passion that fired Steve’s enthusiasms. Now, she had first-hand knowledge of the heat the spark between them generated, and she couldn’t wait throw herself on the pyre once more. The only problem was, she didn’t know what to do next.
    For the fiftieth time that day, she wandered into her office and jiggled the mouse on her computer. The monitor woke, and the smile that split her face made her cheekbones ache as she scanned her inbox. She dropped into her chair with a laugh, chuckling as she reread his message about her books. A warm, tingly blush prickled her neck and cheeks, setting her ears aflame. Sara snatched her cell phone from the desk and began to dial. Then her brain kicked in.
    She dropped the phone like a hot potato and swiveled away from the desk. The chair squeaked, underscoring her agitation. She couldn’t call. Not now. She knew better than to call.
    Steve hated to be pursued. The good, old-fashioned, southern man in him recoiled when a woman came on too strong. No, sci-fi quirks and easy-going smiles aside, he liked to be the one calling the shots. He didn’t have the longest attention span when it came to women. The speed at which Steve’s love affairs stopped could give a woman whiplash. By the time a candidate stuck around long enough for Sara to actually refer to her by name, the blip the woman created had dropped off Steve’s radar. Sara had borne witness to the demise of too many of his relationships to fool herself into thinking she would be different from the rest. He wasn’t a man a woman could chase after with a big net and pin down like a butterfly.
    The urge to come on strong was almost overwhelming. Sara wanted to reach out and grab everything, grab him , but she knew she couldn’t. “That would be unseemly,” she murmured in her best Scarlett O’Hara drawl.
    She had to be careful. She had to play it cool. With what little resolve she could scrounge, Sara turned back to the desk. She closed her email account and opened the window containing her still-blank document. Fingers poised over the keys, she drew a deep breath and closed her eyes. In her mind, she could have her way with him. Reality may be rife with complication, but in her imagination Steve was all hers—mind, body, and soul. For now, that would have to do.
    ****
    Sara cracked within forty-eight hours. For two full days, she endured an inbox filled with forwarded jokes, pic-spams of bunny rabbits cuddling with lions, and a rash of cryptic one-liners that could only be funny to a computer jock.
    Her phone didn’t ring, but that wasn’t unusual. Steve rarely called. He was more of an email or text guy. But he hadn’t sent a text and the meaningless emails were making her bonkers. Day two edged toward day three, and her words had dried up, her pillowcases had lost his scent, and her last nerve disintegrated into dust.
    Unable to take it one second longer, she glared at the flashing cursor on her screen and dialed. Steve croaked a hello, and she blurted the obvious question. “Did I wake you?”
    “Hmm? No,” he answered too quickly.
    “Liar.” She laughed. “It’s barely nine PM.”
    He cleared the gravel from his throat. “Long week. Big projects. Just got home a little while ago.”
    “My poor little wage slave,” she cooed.
    “Hey, I’m the boss. Well, one of the bosses.”
    “Mmm, the boss.”
    “Yeah,” he said, pitching his voice a little lower. “I seem to remember offering you a position when you thought your last book was gonna bomb.”
    Sara laughed again, basking in the honeyed warmth of his tone. “I don’t wanna be your maid. How about your saucy secretary? I’d be much better at taking dictation.”
    “I bet you would be, Sugar,” he drawled.
    The last vestiges of her cool melted. “Come over.” The moment the words left her mouth, Sara