LITMIR.BIZ

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up, he’d have gotten her number. That’s it.

      Miss Prissy needed to get a life.

      He glanced toward her office. She was visible through the open doorway, her head bent over her work. A small frown wrinkled her forehead. She was so serious. Did she never let her hair down? He tried to imagine it and couldn’t. She was too stiff and distant and uptight.

      She glanced up and he looked away before she caught him staring. God knew what she’d make of that. Sexual harassment, probably.

      He smiled faintly. The idea of him trying to get it on with her was too absurd. She would probably kick him in the nuts then take photos of him writhing on the floor to show the rest of the sisterhood.

      Dino walked past and gave him a questioning look. “You all right there, mate?”

      Jon realized he was standing in the middle of the workshop with a piece of wood in his hands, staring at nothing. And that he’d wasted the past half hour thinking about Gabby Wade.

      “All good,” he assured the other man.

      Then he collected the other pieces of timber and took them to where Carl was waiting.

      GABBY LEFT WORK BEFORE SIX o’clock that night for the first time in months. Tyler and Ally had invited her for dinner to celebrate her birthday. Technically, it wasn’t until the weekend but Ally and Tyler were hosting the firm’s delayed Christmas party on Saturday night—they’d been so busy in the lead-up to Christmas that everyone had voted to postpone the party until a time when things were less hectic. Gabby would have been happy to combine the two events—or, better yet, forget her birthday altogether—but Ally had insisted they have a separate dinner to mark Gabby’s special day.

      Normally Tyler forgot her birthday, then made up for it by buying her something expensive a month or so later. Times had changed. He had Ally to remind him now.

      Gabby parked close to their double-fronted Victorian home and fumbled in her bag for her lipstick. She found a roll of mints and two tampons, but no lipstick. Damn. Maybe she should have made the time to swing home and freshen up.

      Who are you trying to impress, anyway? It’s just Ally and Tyler.

      Her hand stilled in her bag. It was a good question. Who was she trying to impress? Not Tyler anymore. That horse had well and truly bolted. As for Ally, right from the start she’d embraced Gabby has a friend.

      Yet there was no denying the fact that Gabby found herself playing the comparison game whenever she spent any significant time with Tyler’s wife. It was hard not to, given the superficial similarities between the two of them. They were both on the petite side, and they both had short, dark hair. Sure, Ally was much curvier than Gabby, and her hair was curly instead of dead straight, but it wasn’t as though Tyler had gone off and married a six-foot-six redhead. Then there was the fact that both she and Ally were not exactly shy, retiring types …

      Enough in common, really, to seed a host of unanswerable questions in Gabby’s mind. But as she reminded herself regularly, Tyler had made his choice, and she was happy for him. Anything else was a waste of energy.

      Which meant she didn’t need to worry about lipstick. She was having dinner with two of her good friends. End of story.

      Before she could examine her navel any more, she got out of the car and made her way up the well-lit path to Tyler and Ally’s porch. The door opened before she could knock and Ally greeted her with a hug. Dressed in an aqua dress with white embroidery around the hemline, she looked fresh and bright.

      “I was beginning to think you were never going to show up,” she said.

      “Sorry. I got held up at work.”

      “As usual. Your boss is a slave driver.”

      “Don’t look at me—it’s the office manager who wields the whip,” Tyler said as he joined them in the wide entrance hall. He kissed Gabby’s cheek. “Happy early birthday.”

      Gabby laughed. “I can honestly say that’s the first time I’ve heard those words pass your lips.”

      “What can I say? Forgetting dates is a guy thing.”

      Ally poked him in the ribs. “You’re on increasingly thin ice with that one, mister. All the latest research is showing that there’s precious little difference between the male and female brain.”

      Tyler captured her hand in one of his to save himself from further prodding.

      “I kind of like the differences. Don’t know about you,” he said, smiling into his wife’s face.

      Gabby looked away. She could tell herself she was happy for Tyler until the cows came home, but there was no getting around the fact that seeing the way he looked at Ally made her chest ache.

      Not once in three years had he ever looked at her in the same way. Not once.

      Which is why he married her and not you, dufus.

      “Something smells great,” she said, sniffing appreciatively.

      Ally hooked her arm through Gabby’s. “I made us Moroccan meatballs with preserved lemons, pistachio couscous and orange-and-date salad.”

      “We’re going through a Moroccan stage,” he explained as they walked toward the open living space at the rear of the house.

      “Well, you know me, anything that I didn’t cook myself is manna from heaven,” Gabby said.

      “Good. Tyler was worried it might be too exotic for you.”

      Ally released Gabby’s arm to pour wine into three of the four glasses on the counter.

      “Here’s to you,” Ally said as she passed Gabby a glass.

      “Yeah, happy birthday, Gab,” Tyler said.

      Gabby clinked glasses, distracted by the single flute still on the counter. It was possible, of course, that Tyler or Ally had simply put out one too many. She hoped like hell that was what had happened, because the alternative was that someone else was joining them for dinner. And since it was a small and cosy family affair, she had a horrible feeling she might know who that fourth person might be.

      Right on cue, the doorbell rang. Gabby’s stomach dipped with foreboding.

      “I’ll get it,” Tyler said.

      “We thought it might be nice to have Jon over, too,” Ally explained as he disappeared to answer the door. “We’ve barely seen him since he’s been back, because he was in Woodend so long. Now he’s here, I’ve been bugging him to come for dinner every night, and finally he said yes.”

      Ally looked pleased. Gabby could only imagine how she looked. Constipated? Bilious? The last thing she wanted was to sit around a table making polite conversation with Tyler’s knuckle-dragging brother.

      “Wasn’t sure what you guys were having, so I brought red and white,” Jon said as he and Tyler appeared.

      Jon’s step faltered when he saw her standing there.

      “Evening,” she said, raising her glass.

      For some reason his obvious discomfort made her feel better, made her feel less childish for being unhappy about him being here.

      “Hi.” Jon was frowning slightly as he put down the bottles of wine he’d brought.

      “Finally I get you in my clutches. I’m determined to put some meat back on those bones, you know,” Ally said, planting a kiss on his cheek and giving him a warm hug.

      Jon hugged her as warmly, a faint smile on his face. Ally seemed very small in comparison to his big body. Gabby experienced an odd clench of … something as she watched them embrace.

      Looking away, she swallowed a big mouthful of wine. Everybody loved Ally, it seemed. Even the arrogant, standoffish brother.

      “Have

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