Circle of Friends Complete Collection

by Susan Mallery

  He shrugged. “I always hope for a miracle and sometimes I get it.”

  “Which makes it a good day.”

  “Agreed.” He stared into her eyes and felt that connection again. He wanted her, which also felt good. This living thing had a lot to say for itself. “I want to see you again,” he told her.

  She hesitated, then smiled. “I wouldn’t mind being seen.”

  “I’ll call.”

  “Guys always say that.”

  “You think I’m just some guy?” he asked playfully.

  “I haven’t decided.”

  “You’ll let me know when you do?”

  “You’ll be the first.”

  * * *

  THE DESIGN FOR the dollhouse had looked easy enough, Josh thought as he sanded the edges of the individual roof shingles so Emma wouldn’t get splinters. He and Pete had picked it out together and figured it would take them two, maybe three weekends, tops.

  That had been several months ago. Originally planned as Emma’s Christmas present, the brothers were now determined to finish it for her birthday. Or at least before she stopped playing with dolls.

  “What did you think of Crissy?” Pete asked as he primed the shutters Josh had sanded in preparation for paint. “Abbey and I both liked her. She did good with all the kids. She was here for lunch with Abbey and the kids a couple of days ago and Abbey said it went well.”

  Josh hesitated, not sure what he wanted to admit to his brother. Then he reminded himself that he and Pete had never kept secrets.

  “She mentioned that when I stopped by her gym to see her.”

  Pete put down his brush and stared. “You stopped by? To talk to her? On purpose?”

  “You’re dripping.” Josh pointed to the primer collecting on the end of the bristles.

  Pete swore under his breath and grabbed the brush. “You’re seeing her? I know Abbey was pushing something, but I didn’t think you were interested.”

  “I wasn’t. I’m not.” He shook his head. Who was he trying to kid? “I might be interested. We’re friends.”

  Friends who slept together. If only he could forget that night...and morning...he’d spent with her.

  But a part of him didn’t want to forget. A part of him wanted to do it again.

  Pete tossed a rag at him. “Where’d you go?”

  “What? Just thinking.”

  “About Crissy?” Pete sounded shocked and intrigued. “You like her.”

  “I think she’s great.”

  “So you’re considering dating her?” Pete grinned as he asked the question.

  “Maybe.” Did dating describe what he and Crissy were doing? Had done?

  “Come on. It’ll be good for you. You need to get out and do something other than work and hang out here.”

  Josh picked up another shingle and began sanding it. “Trying to get rid of me?”

  “I’m trying to remind you that you’re still alive. I know you loved Stacey and that you want to honor her memory, but barely existing doesn’t honor anyone. You live like a monk or worse. Get out there. Date. Have sex. You’re putting too much pressure on yourself. You weren’t meant to live like this, Josh.”

  “So speaks a guy who has had exactly one woman in his life.”

  Pete’s expression turned smug. “Why go looking for more when you have the best at home? But we’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you. Use it or lose it, my friend.”

  Josh concentrated on the shingle, smoothing the edges and the top. “I did use it. Last week.”

  He kept his attention on his work but heard the satisfying splat of the brush hitting the floor, followed by creative swearing.

  “What?” Pete demanded. “You did it? With a woman?”

  “I’m ignoring you.”

  “Seriously. Who—” Pete paused, then swore again. “Crissy?”

  Josh finally looked at his older brother and shrugged. As if it wasn’t a big deal and something he hadn’t been able to get out of his mind for more than five minutes at a time.

  “I went to her house after the party to make sure she was all right. She wasn’t. One thing led to another.”

  Pete looked impressed. “When you cut loose, you do it in a big way.” Then his expression turned serious. “How’d you feel the next morning?”

  “Better than I thought I would,” he admitted, remembering how he’d expected guilt and remorse. “I expected to feel like crap and I didn’t. I didn’t plan on healing but it happened anyway.”

  “Is that a bad thing?”

  “I don’t want to lose Stacey.”

  “She’s already gone.”

  Josh knew that in his head, but in his gut, he wasn’t so sure. “I thought she’d be a part of me forever. I have the memories, but she’s not inside of me anymore. Every part of me says it’s time to move on, to get a life, but I’m not sure I want to. Or that I should. How can I have let go of Stacey so easily?”

  “It’s been four years. That’s not easy.” Pete shook his head. “You loved her and you lost her. That doesn’t mean you can’t get involved again with someone else.”

  Josh hadn’t thought in terms of getting involved. He liked Crissy. He enjoyed being with her, in and out of bed. He’d never thought he’d be aroused again, or excited about seeing a woman who wasn’t Stacey. But getting involved? That was a place he didn’t want to go.

  “I’m not interested in anything serious,” he said.

  “No one’s asking you to marry her,” Pete pointed out. “Date her. Dating can be fun. Enjoy what you have. Remember what it was like not to feel so dead inside. That’s allowed. As to the rest of it, you can make it up as you go.”

  Josh eyed his brother. “You’ve been with Abbey since you were fourteen or fifteen. How can you know all this stuff?”

  “I’m gifted,” Pete said modestly, then laughed. “The guys at the fire station talk. The single ones talk the most. I listen. You like Crissy. She likes you, which makes me wonder how smart she is, but that’s a different discussion.”

  “Thanks,” Josh grumbled, enjoying his brother’s teasing.

  “So go for it. Enjoy what you have with her.”

  It sounded like a plan, Josh thought. As long as they were both clear on the fact that his relationship with Crissy wasn’t going anywhere. He was willing to like her and want her, but he would never love her. He’d already given his heart once—to Stacey—and he was never going to risk losing it again.

  CHAPTER SIX

  CRISSY RAN THE cloth ribbon across the back of the sofa. King Edward, her cat, blinked at her as if asking why she didn’t have something better to do with her Saturday afternoon than annoy him.

  “You can’t sleep all day long,” she told him.

  He slowly closed his eyes as if to prove her wrong.

  She stood and paced the length of the living room. She felt restless, which was unusual for her. An afternoon at home was always something she looked forward to. She worked hard at her job during the week and solitary time was precious. Normally she savored a couple of hours spent reading a book or watching a movie she’d missed when it was out in theaters.

  But not today. Today she couldn’t seem to settle on anything.

  “I should go shopping,” she told herself, but felt no call of the mall. And if she wasn’t compelled by trying on shoes she didn’t need then there really was something wrong with her.

  The “what” wasn’t too hard to figure out. Josh and the complications he’d brought into her life.

  She’d kind of fooled herself into thinking she was doing a lovely job of ignoring him right up until he’d shown up at her office. Having him in her face had destroyed the illusion.

  Now she was left with reality, which wasn’t pret
ty. She was obsessed with a man possibly still in love with his dead wife. The same man was also the uncle of the child she’d given up for adoption and there was a teeny, tiny chance she might be pregnant with his child.

  Any number of TV channels would probably be willing to pay a fortune for the chance to fictionalize her current situation. Not that much fiction would be required. It was kind of dramatic all on its own.

  Which did not make for a calm Saturday afternoon.

  She crossed to the calendar in the kitchen and studied the date. She would be able to take a pregnancy test in less than two weeks. That wasn’t so long. She could survive that time. And honestly, the odds of the whole sperm-egg encounter were infinitesimal...weren’t they?

  The phone rang.

  Crissy hated that her first thought/hope was that it was Josh, which made her feel sixteen again. Not really a good thing.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, Crissy.”

  It was Josh. Heat flooded her body and her chest tightened, making it difficult to breathe, but in a good way.

  “I just finished up working on a dollhouse for Emma,” he continued. “Pete and I have been building it for months and we’re down to the painting. We want to have it finished for her birthday.”

  “I’m sure she’ll love it.”

  Emma seemed very girly, Crissy thought. She would have hated a dollhouse at the same age.

  “Me, too,” he said. “At least Pete and I have been spending a lot of time together. That doesn’t always happen.”

  “You’re both busy.”

  She sank into a kitchen chair and wondered if he had a point to his call. Anticipation kept trying to get out but, as she wasn’t sure if there was anything to anticipate or if this was just a chance to talk, she kept slamming the door.

  “I’m calling to invite you to dinner,” he said. “Tonight.”

  Anticipation rushed out and started dancing.

  She opened, then closed her mouth. What was she supposed to say? Yes made the most sense, but did she want to do this? Date Josh?

  She liked him a lot, but there were issues and she’d always found issue-based relationships were nothing but trouble.

  “Did I violate the dating code?” he asked.

  “What?”

  “It’s last minute. I should have called a few days ago. I’m not good at dating. Lack of practice. Not to mention that you don’t want to date me.”

  “I never said that.”

  “You said we should just be friends. Sort of the same thing.”

  “If you’re going to be logical,” she grumbled as she picked up a pen and began doodling on a paper napkin. “It’s not that I don’t like you.”

  “Would you be more comfortable going out with me if you disliked me?” he asked.

  She smiled. “No. The liking is a good thing.”

  “I like you, too.”

  Her insides got all warm.

  Crissy sucked in a breath. They both knew all the reasons getting involved wasn’t really smart. They’d been over them more than once. But she couldn’t stop thinking about him and apparently he had her on the brain, too. Honestly, how often did she meet a guy she thought was special?

  “I’m offering to cook,” he said.

  “You know how?”

  “I can pull a few things together. Two or three.”

  “That’s more than I can do,” she said, smiling. “I’m the takeout queen. But I have lovely dishes. I can make takeout look pretty.”

  “Something to be proud of. Are you impressed enough to say yes?”

  She wanted to. Desperately. In a way, that kind of scared her. Caring about Josh too much could be dangerous for her reluctant heart. But saying no seemed as if it could hurt more.

  “Are we dating?” she asked. “Is this dating?”

  “It might be. Although given what happened the other night, probably not a first date.”

  She laughed. “Good. I loathe first dates. They’re always so awkward. Let’s never have a first date.”

  “You have my word on it.”

  She drew in a breath. “What time?”

  “Seven.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “I’ll look forward to seeing you.”

  * * *

  CRISSY HAD NO idea what to wear. The dinner was at Josh’s house, which meant more casual was probably better. But jeans seemed too casual, a dress seemed too formal. The weather was clear and in the midsixties—fairly typical for Riverside this time of year. After flipping through every item in her closet three times, she settled on a sweater with a sweetheart neckline and slim black pants.

  She went light on the makeup and fluffed her hair. With everything done, she glanced at the clock and realized she had plenty of time to be nervous. Maybe she should leave now and stop at the wine store on her way. She always liked to bring something when she was invited to dinner.

  Three minutes after she was due to arrive, she parked in front of Josh’s town house and turned off the engine. Anticipation mingled with apprehension. It was an uneasy mixture at best. She grabbed her purse and the wine she’d bought, then got out of the car and headed for the front door.

  He opened the door before she could knock and smiled.

  “Thanks for coming,” he said as he stepped back to let her inside.

  At the sight of him, the soulful green eyes, the familiar curve of his mouth, the white shirt that covered a chest she remembered really, really well, she felt her knees go weak.

  “My pleasure,” she murmured, stepping into the small foyer. “Are you really cooking or is there takeout involved? I’m just asking. I totally respect takeout.”

  “I’m cooking.” He shrugged. “Barbecuing, which is almost the same thing.”

  She laughed. “Okay. I feel better now. Meat on fire is a traditional male dish. I was afraid you were using pots and pans and sautéing things. That would have been intimidating.”

  “I wouldn’t want that.”

  She handed him the wine. He took it then leaned in and kissed her. On the mouth.

  It was a slow, lingering kiss. He didn’t push. Instead the warm brush of his mouth seemed to...promise good things to come. In the battle of emotions, it appeared anticipation might win.

  She put her hand on his shoulder. His strength made her think that maybe it was okay not to be in charge all the time, that this might be a man more interested in being a partner than someone she had to take care of.

  The thought was so startling, she stepped back, then fumbled with her purse to buy herself time to recover.

  “Where should I put this?” she asked, glancing around the empty foyer.

  “There’s a table in the living room.” He put his hand on the small of her back and urged her forward.

  What was up with the idea of Josh as a partner? Because he was strong? She didn’t get involved with weak men. Okay, sure, there had been a couple of disasters, but she’d been dating since she was sixteen. In over fifteen years, there were bound to be a few mistakes. But it wasn’t as if she had a pattern of choosing men who were weaker than herself, was it?

  “Are you all right?” Josh asked.

  “What? Oh. I’m fine. Just thinking about something weird.” She consciously cleared her mind. “I’m totally focused on the moment now. Color me here.”

  “Good.”

  He led her into a large room that was nearly painful in its sterility. The walls were builder’s white, the carpet a nondescript beige. There was a big TV, a sofa, love seat and several tables with lamps. The furniture coordinated so perfectly she had a bad feeling he’d bought them off the showroom floor of some discount furniture place.

  Despite the excess of seating, there was nothing personal in the space. No picture
s or plants, no artwork. Not even a magazine.

  She set her purse in the corner of the love seat and glanced at the vertical blinds covering the sliding glass door leading out to an enclosed patio. Obviously Josh had moved here after Stacey had died.

  “You had a house together, didn’t you?” she asked without thinking.

  He frowned. “Yes. How did you...” He looked at the room, then at her. “That obvious?”

  “Probably not. I’m especially perceptive. Although a case could be made that the lack of anything personal sort of gives it all away.”

  He gave her a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re right.” He shrugged. “The house was great but after Stacey was gone, I couldn’t stay there. I sold it and gave our furniture to a shelter. It was easier than trying to live there.”

  “I’ve never lost anyone,” she admitted. “I don’t know what it’s like to go through that much pain. I didn’t mean to make things worse by mentioning the house.”

  He met her gaze. “You didn’t. It was four years ago.”

  Was that his way of saying he’d moved on? She wanted to think so, but wasn’t sure.

  “Come on,” he said, taking her hand. “You’ll like the kitchen. There’s color in there.”

  “How did that happen?”

  “Builder error. One of my neighbors special-ordered tile, cabinets and wall color. They put it in here by mistake. As none of it could be easily removed, I decided to live with it.”

  They walked into a room done in Mediterranean colors. The tiles were shades of cream with an ocean-blue backsplash. Graduated shades of yellow warmed the walls. The cabinets were a slick, shiny dark red.

  When compared with the starkness of the rest of the place, it seemed as if they’d stepped into another house.

  “I love it,” she said as she turned slowly to take it all in. “Did the other people get their kitchen redone the way they wanted?”

  “Not exactly. When they found out what had happened, they came over to check out my place and decided it was a little too bright for their taste.”

  “Fools,” she murmured, then walked over to the cooktop. “Not a single burner in use. I feel more comfortable now.”