by Julie Kenner
“Of course not,” Ella said. “I didn’t mean that. I just meant…” She trailed off. “I don’t have any idea what I meant.”
Ronnie leaned back in her chair, those penetrating eyes studying her. “What’s bothering you, El?”
Ella ran her fingers through her hair. “Nothing, really.”
“Yes, something. I didn’t get to be a kick-ass professor for nothing. Now tell me.”
Ella couldn’t help but laugh. “I think it’s just jitters, you know, about being engaged. I mean, I’m not even entirely certain he’s going to pop the question—”
“Yes, you are. If anyone in this world is predictable, it’s Tony. I don’t mean that in a bad way, that’s just who he is. You can see this proposal coming a mile away.”
“Yeah, okay, you’re right. I am sure. But marriage is something I really don’t think I know how to do. It’s not like I had a role model. It was just me growing up. Not even my mom. I want the family—I want all the trappings that go with a marriage—but I’m not sure how to be married. I’ve never really been a unit with anyone before. I guess I’m just a little nervous about how it works.”
Ronnie’s smile was soft and understanding. “Definitely jitters,” she said. “As for how it works, it’s a little bit different for everyone, but basically, marriage is about being yourself, only more. That’s how it is with me and Jack. We’re still totally ourselves, but we’re a couple, too. It’s nice.” She reached out and touched Ella’s arm. “And you do know how to be part of a unit. You do it automatically with your friends. Like me. And Shane.”
The thought of being a “unit” with Shane almost undid Ella, particularly in light of her mind’s earlier ramblings. “It’s not the same,” she said quickly. “I’m just myself around you guys.”
“Yeah. That’s the point.” Ronnie studied her some more, and this time Ella ducked her head, uncomfortable with the inspection. “Isn’t it? I mean, you’re yourself with Tony, too, right?”
“Of course,” Ella said. And she was. Everyone has different angles in their personality. Hers with Tony was more mature. Just the way it should be if she was going to be Tony’s partner for life.
“Right,” Ronnie said. She took a long sip of coffee, then played with the spoon for a while, clacking it irritatingly against the side of the cup.
“What?” Ella demanded.
Ronnie stopped, her hand frozen with the spoon. “Sorry. Nothing.”
“Oh.” Ella picked up her own spoon and tapped it silently against her palm.
“What?” Ronnie said.
Ella stopped the spoon. “Nothing. Really. I, um, just thought you had something more to say.”
“No. Why? Is there something on your mind?”
“Okay, fine. You’re going to keep bugging me until I spill it, so I might as well.”
Ronnie kept her face perfectly placid, but her eyes danced with amusement.
Ella cursed silently, then spoke. “So, you and Jack, you’re happy, right?” She knew they were. Blissful. Jack and Ronnie had snagged the happily ever after that Ella so wanted for herself. They didn’t have kids yet, but she knew from conversations with Ronnie that little ones were on the agenda. It was perfect, and Ella was both thrilled for her friend and a tiny bit jealous.
“Very,” Ronnie said, her forehead creasing in thought. She reached out and took Ella’s hand. “What’s on your mind, El?”
Ella took a deep breath, reminded herself that she’d opened the door and then jumped through it before she could change her mind. “Your, um, sex life is good, right? I mean, I know how y’all met and everything. It’s not my business, but I’m assuming it’s still really good.”
During one of their margarita binges, Ronnie had told Ella the story of how she and Jack had met: there’d been a series of murders, and Jack, a detective, had come to Ronnie for expert advice about pieces of erotica the killer had been leaving at the scene. The attraction had been intense, one thing had led to another, and Ronnie and Jack had indulged in a few erotic fantasies of their own.
“It’s wonderful,” Ronnie said. She looked as if she might add something else but obviously decided against it, instead letting Ella go at her own pace.
“So, um, have you ever, you know, fantasized about another guy?”
“Ah,” Ronnie said with an almost imperceptible nod, as if she’d just solved a huge mystery. She leaned back in her chair, then shook her head. “No, actually, I haven’t.”
“Oh,” Ella said. Well, damn. So much for her theory that fantasies of Shane were just a normal little relationship bump.
“‘Oh’ is right,” Ronnie said. “You’re thinking about Shane.” She made the statement firmly, without any hesitation. And for the first time Ella cursed having a friend who knew her so well. “When I came up to you earlier, you weren’t thinking about Shane leaving at all, were you? You were thinking about all the interesting things you and he could do if he’d just stay here.”
Ella briefly considered retreating into full denial, but the truth was, she couldn’t. She needed to be open and honest. Shane might be her best friend, but Ronnie had filled the role of female friend in her life, and it felt nice. It also came in handy, because this was one thing she really couldn’t talk to Shane about….
“Okay,” she said. Then she drew in a breath and tried again. “Okay, yeah. Maybe.” She slouched forward and let her forehead bang the table. “Oh, hell, Ronnie. What am I supposed to do now? I’m in love with Tony.”
With major effort she gathered her emotions in, making sure nothing teary and weak would sneak out. Then she lifted her head just enough to peer at Ronnie. The sympathetic understanding on her friend’s face almost unraveled all her hard work, and she had to double her effort to hold back tears.
“I’m a mess,” she said. “I love Tony. He’s great. The perfect eligible man. Good-looking with a great job and a real sense of humor. And his family loves me.”
“You’re right. He’s a fabulous guy. His sisters are wonderful. It’s a good thing, getting along with your in-laws.”
“And I do. Really well.” Already Ella had become great friends with Tony’s two sisters, Leah and Matty, and his parents had welcomed her as if she were one of their own. With Tony she’d found the family she’d always wanted. With Tony she could have a perfect life. “This thing about Shane was an aberration. It had to be. Just my subconscious being bummed out about him moving so far away.”
“Maybe. Or maybe there’s something more. Maybe you should try and find out.”
Ella stared at Ronnie, trying to comprehend what her friend was saying. “Are you nuts? No way. Just because I had a little fantasy about my best friend, that doesn’t mean the sky is falling in. And it sure doesn’t mean I’m not totally, one hundred percent in love with Tony. I have fantasies about Hugh Jack-man, too, but I don’t think we’ll ever be like that.”
“Why not?”
“Well, he lives in Los Angeles, for one thing. Or maybe London. I’m not quite sure.”
Ronnie lifted an eyebrow. “Shane, Ella. I meant Shane.”
“Aren’t you listening to me? I already told you. I’m not interested in him. He’s my best friend, not my personal sex toy. But these fantasies are really awkward. I mean, Shane and I have always talked about everything, but I’m sure not going to talk to him about this!”
“Maybe you should.”
“Ronnie! I’m going to marry Tony. I love him.”
“I know you do. But maybe it’s not the right kind of love. Maybe he’s not the one.”
“Of course he is.” She frowned. Of course Tony was the one. He had to be. She already had a life with him, a whole family who loved her.
“Well, you’d know,” Ronnie said. “I just don’t want you to let something special get away.”
“That would be Tony, and you don’t have to worry.” She held up her hand, preventing Ronnie from saying anything else. “Look, I’m not denying that I had some pretty hot thoughts about
Shane. But it makes total sense. I’m depressed he’s moving back to Texas, and this is just my weird way of reacting to that. I don’t really want to sleep with him.”
“Well, maybe you’re right,” Ronnie said, but she’d edged back into her professorial voice, and Ella knew her friend was only humoring her. So much for girl talk. She should have just kept her mouth shut.
“Look,” Ronnie finally said, “for the sake of argument, let’s pretend you do want to sleep with him. Who’s to say that very situation doesn’t apply to him? Maybe he’s desperate to sleep with you, but he’s just as determined not to do anything about it.”
“Oh, please.” The idea was absurd. Never once had Ella picked up any clue from Shane, and they’d even shared a bed in the past. They were friends. True boy-girl friends. A relatively rare combination but not impossible.
“‘Oh, please,’ nothing,” Ronnie countered. “You’ll never know unless you try. So why not rush home, get him naked and have your wicked way with him?”
Ella fought the urge to bang her head against the table. Damn, but Ronnie was persistent. “One word—Tony.”
She realized her mistake the second she said it, and Ronnie realized it, too. A slow smile spread across her face. “So you’re not saying you wouldn’t want to go for it—it’s just that Tony’s standing in your way.”
She shook her head vehemently. “No. No way. All right, maybe I’m a teensy bit curious about what it would be like to sleep with Shane—I mean, that makes sense, right? Me, girl. Him, boy. But I’m not about to go through with it.”
“So we’re right back at my question. Why not?”
“Because I couldn’t stand my life if Shane wasn’t part of it. And because I’m afraid of driving some sort of wedge between us. I mean, I saw When Harry Met Sally.”
“So, instead of turning all Billy Crystal, you talk it out. Work through the whole thing. You guys are too close for something like sex to come between you. Even if it doesn’t ultimately work out, all it will do is add an extra spin on your relationship. After all, you’re both grown-ups, right?”
Were they? Sometimes Ella wasn’t so sure. They’d pulled some pretty crazy, adolescent stunts in the past. Anyway, it was a moot point. Ronnie might believe in different spins, but Ella was afraid she’d be spun right out of Shane’s life, centrifugal force shooting him fifteen hundred miles away, where it would be all too easy to forget to call and—frequent-flier miles notwithstanding—he’d be able to find all sorts of excuses not to travel between the states.
No, sex with Shane was a fantasy. Something that had popped in her head on a beautiful Saturday afternoon. And that’s exactly where it should stay. In her head.
Out of sight. Out of mind. And absolutely, positively, out of her bed.
AS SATURDAYS WENT, THIS one was supremely unproductive. And to make it even worse, Ella couldn’t rush straight home, take a hot bath and hide from her troubles under five or six episodes of Sex and the City on DVD.
No, going home meant seeing Shane, and in her current frame of mind, she was afraid she might jump him or drool on him or do something equally stupid like tell him about the fantasy in the library. She desperately wanted to spend more time with him before he headed back to Houston, but right now wasn’t the moment.
And so she did what every reasonable, intelligent, modern woman with a little time on her hands would do: she went shopping.
That was her favorite part about living in New York, actually. She could spend an entire day shopping and not spend any more than it cost to get a street pretzel and a Diet Coke.
She started by taking the subway to Fifty-ninth near the Plaza, then walking the length of Fifth Avenue, peering through the windows at all the fabulous bags and shoes. Things she wouldn’t buy even if she had the money (twelve hundred dollars for a purse?) but were still fun to look at.
At about three o’clock, her cell phone rang. She checked caller ID, and when she saw Shane Mobile, a whole flock of butterflies seemed to take residence in her stomach. Great. Now not only was she in lust with her best friend, she was completely befuddled in his presence. Even his cellular presence.
She snapped open the phone. “Hey!” It sounded perky, cheery and not the least bit horny. One point for her team.
“Hey, yourself.” The smile in his voice came over the phone lines loud and clear. “I’ve got your cabinets sanded and stained. They’re drying on the fire escape, and they should probably stay there overnight.”
“You’re a saint, you know that, right?”
“That’s me. Saint Walker.” A pause, then he said, “So what time are you getting home? We could paint the bathroom together. I’ve got it masked off.”
“Oh.” She pictured the clothes she’d worn when they’d painted three of the walls two nights ago—a pair of cutoffs so short, she never wore them in public and a flimsy men’s undershirt with the sleeves cut off. In the close quarters of her unventilated bathroom, the shirt would be sticking to her in no time, the shorts rubbing her in all sorts of provocative ways. And Shane would be right there, shirtless with a sheen of sweat, wearing those paint-splattered denim shorts that hugged his ass and—
“No.”
“What?” He sounded confused. Well, no wonder.
“Sorry. I’m just a little stressed. This paper isn’t going well. I was kind of thinking I’d stay at the library until late. Could I…I mean, could we take a rain check?”
“Sure thing, El.” The silence on the phone dragged on, and then he cleared his throat. “Um, El?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re not avoiding me, are you?”
Good Lord, was she that transparent? “Of course not. Why on earth would you say that? That’s just ridiculous!” She closed her eyes, certain he could tell she was lying.
“Sorry. I just thought…well, I know you’re mad at me for moving back and—”
“Oh, is that all?” She exhaled with relief, thrilled he was just worried about her temper and not her newfound lust. “Yes, I was mad, but I’m more sad. And I wouldn’t sulk and let you leave without seeing you. That would be punishing both of us. But I have to finish this project. I’m down to the wire. Really.”
“Right,” he said. “Of course. So, I guess I’ll just head home now and get caught up on packing. How about we meet for breakfast tomorrow and then finish the job?”
Tomorrow. Surely she could get her libido under control by tomorrow. “Sure,” she said. “That would be great.”
“Good luck with the paper,” he said, sounding like the good friend he was.
“Thanks. I’m sure I’ll whip it into shape,” she said, like the lustful, lying creature she was.
As soon as the line went dead, she snapped the phone closed, then looked around. She was standing in front of Crate and Barrel. Well, that would do.
Sometimes, though, window-shopping just didn’t do the trick. And so she went inside to engage in a little bit of credit-card therapy.
SHANE STARED AT THE now-dead phone, more disappointed than he wanted to admit. It certainly wasn’t Ella’s fault that her paper was due right around the time that he was packing up to leave, but that didn’t change the fact that he jealously guarded every minute they had together. He’d been secretly thrilled when she’d told him that Tony was in L.A. for business this week, since that meant even more minutes for Shane. But when time he thought was theirs was ripped away…well, he got a little pissed.
He wanted to get his plan underway. He was pumped up and ready. And he didn’t want to wait until the morning.
So do something about it.
He frowned at the thought. What was he supposed to do? She had to work and he had to pack.
After that, though…
He moved to the refrigerator and pulled out a soda, turning the thought over in his head. She hadn’t suggested doing anything afterward, probably because she planned to work pretty late and expected to be tired when she finished.
But that was okay. He cou
ld work with tired and he could work with late. They could have dessert. Maybe even a whole dinner. A bottle of bubbly. And watch a movie on DVD.
A perfectly relaxing evening, brought to her courtesy of her best friend. A best friend who, if he played his cards right, would end the evening with Ella naked in his arms.
At least, that’s what he was hoping for.
3
SLEEP WITH SHANE. THE idea kept skipping through Ella’s head like a stone bouncing across the surface of a lake.
No, no, no, no. No!
She did not have to jump on every single impulse. That’s what separated the humans from the animals, right?
During her four-hour shopping spree, she’d managed to spend only one dollar and sixty-three cents, the sum total for the chocolate bar and bottled water she’d picked up at a little bodega around the corner from Crate and Barrel. Her purchases—two hand-painted champagne flutes to add to her collection—didn’t count since she’d bought them on credit.
Now, heading home with her book bag slung over her shoulder and her shopping bag in her hand, she had to fight the almost physical urge to go back out and shop some more. The cowardly woman’s guide to relationship avoidance…
With a frustrated shake of her head she readjusted her bags and headed down into the subway, pausing only briefly to consider crossing the street and taking the train to Shane’s Upper East Side apartment. But no. She turned defiantly and headed for the train that would whisk her to the little studio she called home.
As much as she wanted to see Shane, it was probably better if she avoided him at least until tomorrow morning. By then, surely she would have wrangled her imagination back under control. Surely she’d be over this ridiculous desire to jump Shane’s bones.
The train was mostly empty, and she grabbed a seat by a window, looking out toward the black nothingness as the train whizzed through the tunnels, the conductor’s unintelligible voice announcing the various stops.
