“Hey.”

“Want to go grab some lunch? I’m starving. Worked up an appetite.”

“Oh, um . . . I actually need to . . . get in a workout today. I always hit the gym on my days off. I work long hours sometimes so it’s the only time I have all week.”

He arched one dark brow. “Don’t you want to eat something first?”

“I’ll grab a protein bar.”

Stepping out onto the bricks, he took her hand and pulled her to her feet. “What’s up, baby? Everything okay?”

“Yeah, sure. Great. I just really need to be sure I stay in shape.” She forced a laugh. “I have to now, to keep up with you, don’t I?”

One corner of his mouth quirked. “I’m pretty sure that won’t ever be a problem. But you go have your workout. I’ll probably do the same. But come here and kiss me first, sugar girl.”

Oh, don’t think, don’t think!

She steeled herself as he leaned in to kiss her, but her body betrayed her, melting into a hot pool of need and desire and jumbled thoughts.

Take a breath. Take some distance.

She laid a hand on his chest, gave him a small push. “Okay, okay.” She laughed. “I should get going.”

“I’ll call you later,” he said, all sunny, dimpled smiles as he bent and kissed her forehead.

“Sure. You go on and get dressed. I need to water the garden before I go.”

She turned and walked over to turn on the hose, taking her time, pretending the nozzle needed adjusting. When she glanced up he was standing in the doorway, looking at her over his shoulder. She flashed him a smile, willing him to just go. He must have believed it because he smiled back and disappeared into the house. She kept her teeth clenched until she heard her front door shut, then she breathed a long sigh—partly relief, partly a strange sort of grief.

Sex never used to be complicated for her. It was fun, often thrilling. But mostly she’d been able to leave afterward, her body sated, without needing anything else from a guy. She hated that she needed so much from him.

“Fuck,” she muttered, turning off the hose and stalking back into the house. But when she reached her bedroom it smelled of sex. It smelled of Jamie. She had to get out of there.

She found her car keys in the living room, grabbed them and her small leather purse and headed out to see her best friend. Dennie would help her get her head on straight. If that were even possible under the circumstances.

Goddamn Jamie. Goddamn her stupid, girlish fantasies and her out-of-control sex drive. It was time she grew up. And there was nothing to make a girl grow up like a broken heart.

CHAPTER

Three

SUMMER PULLED HER Jeep to the curb in front of Dennie’s grandmother’s place in the pretty Lakeview area, close to Lake Pontchartrain. It was a neat, gray clapboard house with brick steps leading to a wide front porch. Dennie and Annalee were forced to evacuate during Hurricane Katrina, and the house had sustained some damage, but they’d managed the restorations in less than a year. They’d been luckier than some in the area and certainly more than many in New Orleans.

She grabbed her purse and slammed the door of the Jeep a little too hard. She needed to take a breath and calm down before she went in—Dennie’s grandma was getting older and she didn’t want to worry her. She inhaled, then exhaled slowly before making her way around to the side of the house, where she gave a light rap on the door and let herself into the kitchen, as she’d always done. She was family there—her best friend’s house had been a longtime refuge. Dennie looked up from the kitchen table, where she sat with her laptop open.

“Hey, Summer. How are—” Her friend stopped and got to her feet. “Are you okay? You’re not, are you?”

She started to shake her head but Dennie was at her side in a moment, taking her into a warm hug.

“I’m okay,” Summer said, maybe more to convince herself than Dennie. She pulled back. “I’ll be fine. I always am.”

“Yes you are,” Dennie said. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t be upset once in a while. Come on and sit down while I get you some sweet tea, then you tell me what’s going on.”

Summer nodded and sat on one of the old white-painted wood chairs that had been in Annalee’s house for as long as she could remember. After Hurricane Katrina they’d simply slapped another coat of paint on them and replaced the flowered seat cushions. How many times over the years since they met in kindergarten had she sat at this table, drinking sweet tea with her best friend, telling her all her secrets? Now if she were going to really be able to talk this out with her she’d have to tell her everything.

She sipped the cold tea, savoring the sweetness on her tongue while she waited for Dennie to sit in a chair across from her. “Thanks, Den.”

“It’s just tea, honey.” She swept her long brown-and-gold-streaked hair over her shoulder. “Now tell me what’s got you looking so flushed.”

“God, I don’t even know where to start.” Summer puffed out a breath. “Okay. So this is going to sound weird but do you remember when we went to Europe a few years ago and we went to that club in London?”

“That leather club, or whatever you call it?”

“BDSM club. But yes, that one. You remember how fascinated I was?”

Dennie snorted. “Honeypie, you haven’t stopped being fascinated. I was wondering when you were going to talk to me about it. And don’t look so surprised. I’m your best friend and I’ve known you forever. Plus you have a tendency to leave the screen up on your computer all the time, and you know how nosey I am.”

“Are you mad at me?” Summer asked, a knot forming over the one already pulling her stomach tight.

“For not talking to me about it sooner? Of course not,” Dennie reassured her, reaching out to pat her hand. “I don’t have to know every dirty detail of your sex life. And even if I were mad I certainly wouldn’t choose now to lay it on you, when you’re so obviously upset. So why don’t you tell me the rest of the story?”

She nodded. “Okay. Okay. Well, I’ve been researching this stuff for a while. A few months ago I found out a friend of mine was into it and she’s sort of been mentoring me, taking me to discussion groups and classes. And the other night she took me to the club here in town and . . . I sort of ran into Jamie there. Well, he saw me. And fuck, I’m not supposed to reveal anyone’s identity—I really can’t tell you who the friend is—but I don’t know how else to tell you about him. And you have to know it’s him so this all makes sense to you.”

“Well, well. Jamie, huh? Not that it really surprises me. He’s all bad boy under his smooth manners and calling everyone sweetheart—him and his tough cars. We both know that’s part of your attraction to him. But don’t you worry—I won’t tell a soul. It’s your business, not mine.”

“I know. But I just caught myself and . . . Den, my head is so fucked up right now. And oh Jesus, shit—am I saying this too loud? Is Annalee here?”

“Nope, she’s out at her mah-jongg game, so talk as loud as you want and tell me everything.” Her eyes sparkled, shifting from blue to green.

“I don’t think you want to know everything, Den.”

Dennie leaned forward and clasped her hands on the table. “Oh, but I do. Of course, get the hard stuff out first so we can get you feeling better. Just don’t leave out the salacious details.” She waggled her eyebrows at her.

Summer had to smile. “I sure do love you, Den.”

“I love you, too, hon. Now talk to me.”

Summer gave her the details of her evening at The Bastille, Jamie showing up at her house and how they’d ended up in bed all day.