lexa sat at the table and faced her parents. Her hands shook with joy and relief as she pushed the check across the battered kitchen table that was covered in happy yellow plastic suns. “Nick and I want you to have this to pay off the mortgage,” she announced. “There will be no arguments or protests. We talked about this for a long time, and we’re lucky to have so much money. We want to share. It means a lot to us, so please accept this as our gift.”

Their matching stunned expressions made tears prick her eyes. How many nights had she tossed and turned, feeling guilty for being unable to get her parents out of their financial mess? As the oldest sibling, she hated the helplessness that choked her. She decided dealing with Nick and her own burgeoning emotions was worth it. The payoff of security and safety for her family eased a deep ache, which she’d fought since her father had the heart attack.

“But how can you do this?” Maria pressed trembling hands to her lips as Jim put his arm around her. “Nick shouldn’t feel like we’re a burden. You’re a young married couple with dreams. For your bookstore. For a family with lots of children. You shouldn’t be taking care of us, Alexandria. We are the parents.”

Jim nodded. “I already decided to take an extra job. We don’t need the money.”

She sighed at her parents’ innate stubbornness. “Listen to me. Nick and I have plenty of money, and this is important to us. Dad, a second job isn’t an option in your condition, unless you want to die. You heard the doctor.” Alexa leaned forward. “This will give you the home free and clear so you can concentrate on paying the other bills. Save for Izzy’s and Gen’s college. Help Lance through his final year of medical school. We’re not giving you enough to retire, guys, just enough to make things a bit easier.”

They exchanged glances. Wild hope glimmered in her mom’s eyes as she clutched the check. Alexa gave them a tiny nudge to push them over the edge. “Nick didn’t want to come with me today. There’s one condition to this money—he never wants to hear about it again.”

Maria gasped. “I have to thank him. He needs to know how much we appreciate this—how he’s changed our lives.”

She swallowed around the tightness in her throat. “Nick doesn’t like to show a lot of emotion. When we discussed this, he insisted he never wants the money mentioned again.”

Jim frowned. “He won’t accept a simple thank you? After all, if it wasn’t for me we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“Anyone can get sick, Dad,” she whispered.

The grief of the past ravaged his face. “But I left.”

“And came back.” Maria grasped his hand and smiled. “You came back to us and made it right. No more talk like this.” Her mother straightened in her chair, eyes shining with emotion. “We will accept the check, Alexandria. And we’ll never mention it to Nick. As long as you promise to go home and tell him he is our angel.” Her voice broke. “I’m so proud you are my daughter.”

Alexa hugged her. After a few more moments of conversation, she kissed both her parents and left the house. Poetry night was taking place at BookCrazy and she couldn’t be late. She started her shuddering Volkswagon Bug and headed toward her store as her thoughts whirled.

The money ruse was unfortunate but necessary. She’d never admit to Nick how bad her parents’ financial situation was. The image of him tossing a wad of money at her like enough bucks could solve any problem made her squirm. Her pride was important, and so was her parents’. They solved their own problems. She had an instinct that Nick Ryan believed money took the place of emotion, which was a lesson his parents had delivered on a daily basis. She shuddered at the thought.

No, she’d manage to do this on her own.

She settled down and drove to work.

…

Alexa glanced around BookCrazy with satisfaction. Poetry nights drew a large crowd, and all were book buyers. Every Friday night, she transformed the back of her store into a performance center. Moody, background music floated through the dim lit aisles. Overstuffed apple-green chairs and battered coffee tables were dragged from the storeroom and arranged in an informal circle. The crowd was a nice mix of intellectuals, some quite serious and others who just wanted an entertaining night out. She dragged the mic over to the small lifted platform, and checked her watch again. Five minutes to go. Where was Maggie?

She watched people settle into the chairs and mumble about coffee while discussing stanzas and imagery and the bleeding of emotion. On cue, the door opened to release a rush of brisk air, and Maggie stepped inside. “Java, anyone?”

Alexa raced over and grabbed two steaming cafe mochas. “Thank God. If I didn’t serve them caffeine they’d read to each other in the Starbucks down the street.”

Maggie set the cardboard tray down and lined up the cups. Her cinnamon-colored hair swung past her jawline when she shook her head. “Al, you’re nuts. You know how much money you spend on coffee just so these artists can read poetry in front of each other? Let them get their own coffee.”

“I need the business. Until I find a way to get a loan to expand the store, I need to keep them caffeinated.”

“Ask Nick. He’s technically your husband.”

She shot her friend a warning look. “No, I don’t want him involved. You promised you wouldn’t say anything.”

Maggie threw her hands up. “What’s the big deal? Nick knows you’d pay off the loan.”

“I want to do this on my own. I took the initial payoff and that was the deal. No more. It’s not like this is a real marriage.”

“Did you give the money to your parents?”

Alexa smiled. “Almost made the company of your brother worth it.”

“I still don’t get it. Why not just tell Nick the truth about the money? He’s a pain in the ass but has a good heart. Why are you playing games, girlfriend?”

She turned away, afraid to confront her friend. She’d always been a sucky liar. How could she possibly tell Maggie she lusted after her brother, and needed every barrier imaginable to keep her distance? If he believed she was a cold-hearted money grabber, he might leave her alone.

Maggie studied her face for a long time. Her green eyes filled with shock as the light bulb suddenly flashed. “Is something else going on with you two? You’re not attracted to him, are you?”

Alexa forced a laugh. “I hate your brother.”

“You’re lying. I always know when you lie. You want to sleep with him, don’t you? Oh, yuck!”

Alexa snatched the last cup of coffee. “This conversation is over. I am not attracted to your brother, and he is not attracted to me.”

Maggie followed close on her heels. “Okay, now that I’m over the initial grossness of the idea, let’s talk about it. He’s your husband, right? You might as well be getting sex for the next year with someone.” Alexa walked to the platform. All eyes were now on her. The word sex definitely got people’s attention, she thought. She ignored her friend and made the initial introductions for poetry night.

As the first poet made his way on stage, she stepped aside and settled herself into her chair. She grabbed her notebook in case she needed to write down any nuggets of inspiration and cleared her mind for the reading.

Maggie knelt and whispered, “I think you should sleep with him.”

Alexa let out a long-suffering sigh. “Leave me alone.”

“I’m serious. I’ve now had a few minutes to think. It’s perfect. You both have to be faithful anyway, so you know he won’t be sleeping with someone else. This way you get the sex you need, and in a year, just say good-bye. No hard feelings. No complications.”

She squirmed. Not because she was embarrassed by Maggie’s suggestion. No, just the opposite. The possibility intrigued her. She lay awake at night, picturing him in the room down the hall. His naked, muscled body stretched out on the bed, waiting for her. Her hormones shook greedily at the image. Hell, at this rate she’d end up in the mental institution by the end of the year.

Cause: Celibacy.

Maggie snapped her fingers in front of her face and jolted Alexa out of her reverie. “You disappeared on me again. Is Nick coming tonight?”

“Oh, yeah, your brother would just love this kind of night out. He’d probably prefer a root canal and a prostate exam.”

“How are you two getting along? Besides the physical attraction.”

“Fine.”

Maggie rolled her eyes. “Lying again. You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

Alexa realized she’d always confessed everything to Maggie except for one event. The first time Nick kissed her. She’d known she loved him back then. Friendship turned to rivalry and then to a girlish crush. That first kiss twisted emotions so pure within her she believed it was love. Her heart beat for him, full of joy at the possibility of them being together, so she uttered the words, her voice echoing through the trees.

“I love you.”

Then waited for him to kiss her again. Instead, he stepped back from her and laughed. Called her a silly baby and walked away.

She learned her first lesson in heartbreak in that moment. Fourteen years old. In the woods with Nicholas Ryan.

She wasn’t about to repeat the lesson.

She pushed the memory away and decided to keep her second secret from Maggie. “There’s nothing going on,” Alexa repeated. “Can I listen to the next poem in peace, please?”

“I don’t think peace is in the cards tonight, babe.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nick’s here. Your husband. The guy you’re not attracted to.”

She swung her head around and stared in shock at the figure in the doorway. He was obviously out of his element, but his presence was so confident, so overwhelmingly male, she sucked in her breath and realized the man had the power to fit in anywhere. And he wasn’t even wearing black.

Most men who wore designer clothes allowed the fabric to dictate to them. Nick wore his Calvin Klein jeans as if he wore nothing at all. The denim hugged his thighs and hips as if folding to his will. He reflected a man who knew himself—and didn’t give a damn what anyone else thought.

The turtleneck was a deep caramel cream in a thick cable knit stitch that emphasized his chest and stretched over broad shoulders. Definitely Ralph Lauren. The boots were Timberland. His hair picked up the color of the sweater, mixing with white blond and shades of mocha, carefully tousled. His jaw clenched with unconscious demand as he searched the darkened bookstore. But his eyes…

A swirl of chocolate brown the color of Hershey’s syrup. Hints of gold and amber that reminded her of aged whiskey. A combination that dripped of sinful sex and indulgent cravings. She waited as he perused the room, skated over her, stopped, then came slowly back.

Their eyes met.

Alexa hated clichés, and what she hated most was becoming one. But at that moment, her heartbeat thundered, her palms sweated, and her belly dipped and plunged as if on a rollercoaster ride. Her body went on full alert, begging him to come to her, promising him surrender. If he told her to go home, get in bed, and wait for him, Alexa was sure she’d follow his instructions.

The weakness of her will infuriated her. Her honesty made her admit she’d do it anyway.

“Oh yeah. Definitely no attraction there.” Maggie’s words broke the weird spell and allowed Alexa to gather her composure. She had issued the invitation to Nick for poetry night because he hadn’t seen her bookstore. He politely declined, citing work as an excuse, and she hadn’t been surprised. Once again, she had reminded herself they came from different worlds, and Nick had no desire to visit hers. As he walked toward her, she wondered why he had changed his mind.

…

Nick picked his way through the bookshelves. Some guy dressed in black spouted into a microphone about the correlation between flowers and death, and the scent of cafe mochas rose to his nostrils. Sounds of a flute and the faint calling of a wolf drifted to his ears. All of his impressions were secondary to the sight of his wife.

Ebony hair fell loose and wild past her shoulders. Her black-framed glasses actually enhanced the sky blue of her eyes, slightly widened with surprise as she watched him approach. Her sweater hugged every inch of those delectable breasts, then opened to a wide bell around her hips. A tight black miniskirt stopped mid-thigh. At second glance, Nick revised his opinion to a much shorter option, since the fabric had snuck way up in her comfortable sitting position and now barely covered her. Knee-high black leather boots completed the outfit. Those long Amazon legs were encased in black tights and Nick knew she wore nothing else underneath. The stores didn’t make a slip that short, he was almost positive.

Her true sexiness lay in her ignorance of her effect on men. Aggravation tickled his nerves. He lived in a constant state of emotional turmoil and he hated every moment. He was the calmest man around and dedicated his path to avoid messy feelings. Now, his normal day ranged from annoyance to frustration to anger. She made him crazy with her whacko arguments and impassioned speeches. She also made him laugh. His home seemed more alive since she moved in.

He reached her. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

He directed his attention to his sister. “Maggie May, how goes it?”

“Fine, brother dearest. What brings you? You’re not going to read that poem you wrote when you were eight, are you?”

Alexa tilted her head in interest. “What poem?”

He actually felt himself flush and realized the two women before him were the only ones who ever made him lose his composure. “Don’t listen to her.”

“I thought you had work,” Alexa said.

He did. And he didn’t know why he was here. He had left the office and entered an empty house and the silence bothered him. He’d thought of her surrounded by people in the bookstore she created and wanted to join her world for just a little while. He said nothing, though, and shrugged. “I wrapped up early. Thought I’d check out poetry night. Do all artists smoke? There’s a long line outside and they’re all puffing away.”

Maggie snickered and stretched both of her legs out on the floor. Her back was propped up against the side of the chair. Her green eyes held the teasing light of a younger sister who still enjoyed torturing her older brother. “Still having cravings, Nick? Bet I could bum one for you.”

“Thanks. It’s always nice to have a family member as your drug pusher.”

Alexa gasped. “You smoke?”

Nick shook his head. “Used to. Quit years ago.”

“Yeah, but when he gets stressed or upset, he regresses. Do you believe he doesn’t think it counts as long as he doesn’t buy?”

Alexa chuckled. “This is very enlightening, guys. We need to get together more often. Tell me, Maggs, does your brother cheat at card games?”

“All the time.”

Nick reached down and snagged Alexa’s fingers, pulling her up from the chair. “Show me the rest of the store while this guy finishes up.”

Maggie chuckled and settled herself into the empty chair. “He’s just afraid of what I’ll tell you next.”

“You’re absolutely right.”

Nick led her away from the crowd. With an instinctive motion, he stopped in a shadowed corner by a sign entitled RELATIONSHIPS. He guided her so her back pressed against the bookshelf, then dropped her hand. Nick shifted his feet and cursed under his breath at his sudden uneasiness. He hadn’t planned what to say, just knew he had to break the tension between them before he got crazy and dragged her into his bed. Somehow, he needed to bring the relationship back to friendship. Back to older brother/younger sister camaraderie. Even if it killed him.

“I want to talk to you.”

A slight smile twitched those bee-stung lips. “Okay.”

“About us.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t think we should go to bed with each other.”

She threw back her head and laughed. Nick didn’t know if he was annoyed at her amusement, or fascinated by her open beauty. This was a woman who enjoyed life and gave out a full belly laugh. Not one of those calculated smiles or slight chuckles. Still, he hated when she laughed at him. Even though he was older, she dragged him back to a time when he was endlessly trying to be cool, and she thwarted every step.

“Funny, I don’t remember offering you my body. Did I miss something?”

He frowned at her casual disregard of their problem. “You know what I’m trying to say. The night of the party got out of hand, and I take full responsibility.”

“How chivalrous of you.”

“Stop being a smart mouth. I’m trying to tell you I was out of line and it won’t happen again. I had too much to drink, I was pissed about Conte, and I took it out on you. I intend to stick to our original agreement, and I’m sorry I lost my control.”

“Apology accepted. I’m sorry for contributing to the whole episode, too. Let’s put it behind us.”

Nick didn’t like her terming such sexual heat as an episode, but ignored the twinge. He wondered why he wasn’t feeling relief at her easy agreement. He cleared his throat. “We have a long year ahead of us, Alexa. Why don’t we try to build on friendship? It will be better for appearances and for us.”

“What’d you have in mind? More poker games?”

An image of her sprawled in his lap flashed in his mind. Of full breasts pressed against his chest. Of squirming, soft, female flesh all over him, ready to burn up in his arms. As if on cue, he looked up and read the title of the book right beside her in full presentation.

How to Give a Woman Multiple Orgasms.

Shit.

“Nick?”

He shook his head and tried to clear the fog. Was she multi-orgasmic? She shook in his embrace over a simple kiss. What would her body do if he treated her to a full-blown sexual treatment, using his lips and tongue and teeth to push her over the edge? Would she scream? Would she fight her response? Or take it with pleasure and give it all right back?

“Nick?”

Sweat formed on his brow as he pulled his focus from the book and back to reality. He was a damn chump. Two seconds after stating they could be friends, he had her coming in his fantasies.

“Ummm, right. I mean, sure, we can play card games. Just not Monopoly.”

She gave an unladylike snort. “You always sucked at that game. Remember when Maggie made you cry when you landed on Boardwalk? You tried to bargain but she wanted cash. You didn’t speak to her for a week.”

He glowered. “You’re thinking of Harold, the kid who lived down the street. I’d never cry at a game.”

“Sure.” Her crossed arms and expression told him she didn’t believe him.

Aggravated, he dragged his fingers over his face and wondered how she made him lose it over a Monopoly game that never happened.

“So, we’ll be friends. I can live with that.”

“Then it’s a deal.”

“Is that why you came to the poetry reading?”

He looked in her face and lied through his teeth. “I wanted to show you I can compromise.”

He wasn’t prepared for the sweet, sunny smile that curved her lips. She looked genuinely pleased, even though he admitted he’d done it for smooth sailing ahead.

She touched his arm. “Thank you, Nick.”

Startled, he pulled back. Then fought embarrassment. “Forget it. Are you going to read tonight?”

Alexa nodded. “I better get back. I’m usually the last one. Go ahead and look around.”

He watched her go back to the crowd and wandered through the shelves. He listened absently to the next poet, who recited lines through the muted wilderness music, and wrinkled his nose. God, he hated poetry. The spilling out of emotion, messy and unbridled, for any stranger to pick up and share. The convoluted comparisons between nature and rage, the endless clichés, and the confusing imagery made a man question his intelligence. No, give him a good biography or a classic like Hemmingway. Give him the opera, where within the fierce emotions there was control.

A familiar, husky tone spilled over the microphone.

He paused in the shadows and watched Alexa take the small stage. She joked a bit with the crowd, thanked them for coming, and introduced her new poem.

“A Small Dark Place,” she said.

Nick prepared himself for high drama, and already started forming some compliments in his mind. After all, it wasn’t her fault he didn’t like poetry. He was determined not to make fun of something so important to her, and even give encouragement.

“Hidden between soft fur and smooth suede;

My legs cramped and folded beneath me.

I wait for the end and for the beginning,

I wait for the bright, clean light to bring me back;

To the world of glittering colors and of perfumed scents that attack my nostrils;

To the world of sharp tongues, snaking out to shred soft smiles. I listen as ice tinkles against amber liquid.

Heat burns within, a reminder of a suicide from the past; a reminder of a silent murder.

Seconds…minutes…centuries…

The sudden knowledge twists my belly; I am home. I open my eyes to the blinding flash of a door opening.

And wonder if I will remember.”

Alexa folded the piece of paper and nodded at her audience. Silence settled over everyone. Some people wrote feverishly in their notebooks. Maggie gave a whoop. She laughed and stepped off the stage, and then she began to gather empty cups and chat as the night came to a close.

Nick stood alone and watched her.

A strange emotion bubbled up inside of him. Since he’d never experienced it before, he couldn’t seek out a name. There was little left in life that touched him, and he admitted he liked it that way.

Tonight, something changed.

Alexa had shared an important part of herself with a room of strangers. With Maggie. With him. Open for criticism, vulnerable to the whims of others, she took what she felt and made him feel it, too. Her courage stole his breath. And as much as he admired her, doubt rose up inside of him like a monster out of a swamp and he wondered if beyond all his rationalizations he was just a coward.

“What’d you think?”

He blinked at Maggie, then tried to focus. “Oh. I liked it. I’ve never heard her work before.”

Maggie grinned like a proud Cub Scout mother. “I keep telling her she can get an anthology published, but she doesn’t seem interested. Her real passion is BookCrazy.”

“Can’t she do both?”

Maggie snorted. “Sure. Me and you would do it in a heartbeat, because we never miss an opportunity. Al is different. She’s happy just by sharing—she doesn’t need the glory of publication. She’s been printed in some magazines, and she goes to a critique group, but that’s more for the others than her. That’s our problem, bro. Always has been.”

“What?”

“We’re better at taking. Part of our childhood screw-ups, I guess.” They both watched Alexa as she escorted her patrons out the door with her usual good humor. “But Al found her way by doing the opposite. There’s nothing she won’t do for someone.”

Maggie suddenly turned on him. Her eyes blazed with a fierceness he remembered from the old days. Her finger jabbed into his chest. “One warning, pal. I love you dearly, but if you hurt her, I’ll personally kick your ass. Got it?”

Instead of rising to the bait, he surprised himself by laughing. Then he dropped a quick kiss on her forehead. “You’re a good friend, Maggie May. I wouldn’t be so quick to judge yourself as a taker. I just hope the right guy sees that one day.”

She stepped back. Her mouth dropped open. “Are you drunk? Or an imposter? Where did my big brother go?”

“Don’t push your luck.” Nick paused and glanced around the bookstore. “What’s going on with the expansion?” He watched his sister’s eyes widen, and he held back a chuckle. “Don’t worry—it’s no longer a secret. Alexa admitted she wants the money to add a cafe. I gave her the check but figured she’d ask me for a consult.” His sister blinked and refused to speak. Nick frowned. “Cat got your tongue, Maggie May?”

“Oh, shit.”

He quirked a brow. “What’s the matter?”

Suddenly, she busied herself with the lone coffee cups and cleaning up the table. “Nothing. Umm, I think she may be embarrassed because she’s hiring someone else to do it. Didn’t want to bother you.”

He fought a surge of annoyance. “I have time to help her.”

Maggie laughed but it had an odd, desperate tone. “I’d leave it alone, bro. Gotta go. See ya.”

She took off in a flurry. Nick shook his head. Maybe Alexa didn’t want him involved in her project. After all, she had cited many times their relationship was based on a business contract.

Just as he had wanted.

He made a note to bring it up later. He helped lock up, and walked his wife to her car. “Did you have dinner?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No time. Want to pick up a pizza on the way?”

“I’ll throw something together for us at home.” His tongue tripped on the last word. Odd, he started to think of his sanctuary now as partly hers. “Won’t take long.”

“Okay. See you at home.” She turned, then spun around. Opened her mouth. “Oh, Nick, don’t forget—”

“The salad.”

Her eyes widened, and her powers of speech seemed to desert her for a moment. She pulled herself together with a speed he admired. And she didn’t even question how he knew. “Right. The salad.”

Then she turned and walked to her car. Nick began to whistle as he made his way toward his BMW. He was definitely learning. He liked catching her by surprise. About time he got the upper hand.

He whistled most of the way home.