LITMIR.BIZ

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that there’s something off about my taste in men. And since I agree that I’ve got to stop doing this to myself, next time I need to find a nice guy. Like you.” After a moment—Jamie was sure only he felt the strain of it—she chuckled. “But of course not you.”

      Of course not. He looked at the tin ceiling. At least she still remembered there was a possibility of their having got together at some point. Perhaps he hadn’t wandered so deep into the “just friends” zone that there was no coming back.

      Three years he’d known her. Three years waiting for the right time to tell her that he thought there could be more than friendship between them. First, there’d been other people in their lives. Then, for a long time, he’d

      convinced himself that she was hopelessly out of his league—a savvy, single-minded attorney who worked and played among the upper strata wouldn’t be interested in an easygoing arts writer who counted his dog among his best friends. So he’d kept his interest buried beneath layers of playing the good guy and best friend. Told himself he was better off that way, since Marissa lost her good sense when it came to her love life. He didn’t want to be one of her regrets. To say nothing of losing her as a friend.

      Cassandra Richards returned from the ladies’ room to lean over the table. She was part of Marissa’s circle of friends, a stunning blonde who worked in fashion, in some sort of public relations capacity. The type of woman who, with one flick of her lashes, could make Jamie feel like a teenager again—all ears, nose, big feet and gangly limbs. He frequently found himself wondering how a brainy boy from the Connecticut suburbs had wound up associating with such Manhattan beauties. If his teenage garage band could see him now…

      “How’s our girl?” Cass asked. She had dropped by to lend her support, even though Marissa had been adamant about how very okay she was without Paul… while downing mojitos, one right after the other, before the food had arrived.

      Eyes shut, Marissa aimed a sleepy smile at her friend. “Drifting.”

      Cass sent her wry look Jamie’s way. “Finally.”

      Marissa’s index finger twitched. “You go home. I’ve kept you too long.”

      “I’ll hold your hair anytime, Mari.”

      Marissa grinned at the girlfriend shorthand for their mutual support system. She pressed a hand to her stomach. “No literal pilgrimages to the porcelain goddess tonight, please.”

      Jamie rubbed her back, hoping for the same. He’d hold back her hair, but not if that made him one of the girls.

      “Time to take her home,” he said to Cassandra, who’d arrived in a slouchy sweater with her whisper-fine hair tucked haphazardly in a clip. She still managed to look like a princess among the paupers.

      “Need any help?”

      “Thanks, I’ve got her.”

      Cass snapped open her bag and dropped several bills on the table to pay for a share of the drinks, sandwiches and très leches. She’d matured from the last time Jamie had seen her. According to Marissa, Cass had fallen under the good influence of a cop from Queens. That sounded like a strange pairing to Jamie, but he’d taken it as a sign of hope for himself.

      “Great,” Cass said, “because I’ve got work in the morning, unlike Happy Holidays here. I need to get home.”

      “Hold on.” Jamie made a motion to slide out of the booth. Marissa tried to straighten up, not very successfully. “I’ll walk you to the train.”

      “Nonsense. It’s not that far to Tribeca. I’ll grab a cab.” Cass leaned down and pecked Marissa’s flushed cheek. “Call you tomorrow.”

      “Mmm-hmm.”

      “Take care.” Cass gave Jamie an appreciative smile. The luggage they’d stored under the table caught her eye as she turned to leave. “Don’t forget the bags.”

      “Nothing important in ’em,” Marissa murmured. “Just my broken dreams.”

      Jamie waved a couple of fingers at Cass before turning his attention back to the woman tucked beneath his arm. Marissa, she of the sharp angles and razor tongue, wasn’t warm and cuddly very often. Was it wrong to enjoy the hell out of holding her this way when she was only looking for a friendly shoulder?

      “Also your passport and credit cards and house keys,” he said, nudging the suitcase with his toe.

      “Gawd, I’ve become maudlin.” Her face scrunched in revulsion. “That means it’s abs’lutely, positively time to go.”

      “Are you up to walking?”

      “Sure. I’m not drunk. Only kind of loose.” She let her arms flop.

      Like a broken doll, Jamie thought, knowing that tomorrow she would be a warrior woman again. Tonight there was a rather large chink in her armor. If ever he’d have the chance to explore her feelings for him…

      But he couldn’t take advantage. Not because he was all that noble. Because she’d be miffed with him tomorrow, and Marissa in a temper brought even more of his hidden feelings to the surface. Her passion had always awed him. Although he’d tried to keep himself at arm’s length at the start of their friendship, he’d been a moth to her intense flame. No way could he maintain a distance, even when that meant going home singed by her lack of awareness. He told himself that while being her lover would be incredible, having her as a friend was enough.

      Jamie hesitated. He’d lied. Friendship wasn’t enough. Besides, she’d brought up the question, not him. But he’d like an answer.

      Why hadn’t they ever hooked up?

      Marissa spoke first. “I’m sorry I’ve been so needy. You probably had better things to do this evening.”

      “Not at all.” He had a movie review to write, but that wasn’t due until eleven tomorrow morning. Plenty of time, especially since he’d be up all night, taming tonight’s wayward urges. Marissa had no idea what he suffered for her.

      “Ready to go?”

      “I guess.” She slid out of the booth.

      “Wait here.” He went to pay the bill to speed up the process, idling for a few minutes in the throng around the cash register. He watched the dark glimmer of Marissa’s reflection in the mirror behind the bar. She stared blankly across the room. Vulnerability was evident in her unschooled expression, and he nearly groaned out loud at the rare sight.

      Oh, hell. He couldn’t press her tonight. She needed a white knight. That would be him—again.

      She was squinting into the crowd when he returned. He asked her what she was looking for and got a shrug. “Thought I saw someone from the airport.”

      “Not Paul.”

      “Course not. He’s still in the Caymans, having meetings.”

      Jamie handed her the straw purse, then dragged the lightweight suitcase out from beneath the table. “Are you ever going to tell me exactly what happened there?” A chattering group pushed past them to claim the table.

      “It’s so predictable.” Marissa took a big breath when they emerged onto the street. “I hate being predictable.”

      The night air was cool and fresh, a rarity that was unique to a few brief weeks of spring in the city. After the long winter, the Village had burst into life, throbbing with the beating drums of meeting, teasing, making love, making mistakes. Or maybe it was just Jamie’s head screwing with him because that was all that he could think about, especially since Marissa had brought up the subject of sex.

      They headed toward the crosswalk onto Bleecker Street. “C’mon, tell me the story,” Jamie said. “I need to know whether or not I have to beat up Paul.” The statement was sure to get a laugh, given his resident pet geek status.

      Marissa didn’t

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