WHAT ARE FRIENDS FOR?

by Naomi Horton

  "How much longer are you going to moon over this guy, Andie?" Tracy wasn't smiling now. "You're nearly thirty, in case it's slipped your attention."

  "It hasn't, thanks."

  "And what about your Frenchman?"

  "He's Canadian. And what about him?" Andie gathered up a handful of lingerie and stuffed it into the suitcase.

  "Are you going to marry him, or what?" Tracy got to her feet and wandered over to Andie's dresser, starting to poke through the drawers. She found a black lacy uplift bra and tossed it into the suitcase, following it with the matching lace briefs.

  Andie grabbed them up and put them back into the drawer. "I haven't made up my mind yet."

  "Time's a-passing." Tracy found another lacy bra, this one in pale pink, and she tossed it into the suitcase. "I can't believe you're not even sleeping with him. You might be nearly thirty, but you're not ready to go on the shelf yet. Heck, I was reading an article in a magazine last week that said you can still do it right into your eighties."

  "I feel so much better knowing that." Andie shoved the pink bra back into the drawer, slapped Tracy's hands out of the way and slammed it closed. "And there are more important things in life than sex, believe it or not."

  "Quick, name three!" Laughing out loud, Tracy wandered across to the closet and started looking through the things hanging there. A black cocktail dress caught her attention and she took it out and held it against herself, then tossed it into the suitcase. "You should at least be sleeping with the guy, Andie. It's not as though Connor's saving his lily-white body for you. You said he and Olivia Woodruff are an item?" She glanced around at Andie, eyebrow raised. "I've heard about her."

  Andie put the dress back in the closet just as Tracy was pulling out a two-piece knit outfit, eyeing the deep V-neck speculatively. Snatching it out of Tracy's hand, she returned it to the closet, too. "I know you have a single-track mind, but it's not what you think. Conn has this old-fashioned sense of propriety that keeps him from sleeping with one woman while he's married to another."

  "But he's not married anymore, is he?"

  That same thought had occurred to Andie, but she didn't want to think about it now. "I work for Conn, I don't run his life for him."

  "But you're still in love with him." Tracy looked at her.

  Andie avoided her sister's gaze, suddenly busy choosing which shoes to pack. "He's my best friend. Of course I love him. I love you, too, although them are days I wonder why."

  Tracy started to say something, then thought better of it and sighed instead, taking the black cocktail dress out of the closet again and putting it back in the suitcase. "You'll need this. Timberwolf Lodge isn't the kind of place where you wear jeans and a sweatshirt to dinner."

  "We're going to be the only people up there, so I imagine we can go to dinner stark naked if we want." But Andie did leave the dress in the suitcase.

  "Now there's an idea," Tracy said with a sly grin. "I'll bet even Conn would sit up and take notice if you—"

  "Forget it."

  "Perfume. Don't forget your perfume. Oh, and here – take these." Tracy had her handbag in her lap and was digging something out of her makeup case. "With luck, you'll even get a chance to use them." Grinning broadly, she reached over and tossed a couple of individually wrapped condoms into the middle of the suitcase.

  "Good grief, would you stop it!" Andie snatched them up and dropped them back into Tracy's open purse. "And for heaven's sake don't let Dad know you carry those around or he'll lock you in the basement. His definition of safe sex is no sex."

  "The kind you're practicing, you mean." Tracy's grin was filled with devilry as she pulled open another drawer in the dresser and started pulling out Andie's collection of nightwear. "Jeez, I don't believe this!" She held up a plain white cotton nightgown. "Nuns wear racier stuff than this, Andie! Honestly, you and I have to have a serious talk about your love life!"

  "Damn it, Tracy, would you please get out of—"

  "Aha, what's this?" She rooted through the drawer, eyes narrowed, and came up with a triumphant grin, a froth of apricot chiffon in her hand. "Now this is more like it! Ooh la la." She held it up to herself and gave a sexy pirouette. "Another gift from the Frenchman?"

  "A gift from myself." Andie reached across to take it from her, but Tracy snatched it away.

  "Well, maybe you're not entirely hopeless after all," she said with a chuckle, folding it neatly and setting it in the suitcase. "Take it with you. Old Conn won't know what hit him."

  "Neither will you if you don't stop messing around."

  "You still haven't told me if you're going to marry Alain."

  "I did tell you. I said I haven't made up my mind yet."

  "But you're thinking about it."

  "Now and again." She said it lightly, not wanting to discuss Alain. Or marriage. Or Conn Devlin, either, for that matter. "I'd love another cup of coffee – how about you?"

  "Do it, Andie," Tracy said quietly, suddenly serious. She reached out and grasped Andie's hand. "It's time you got over Conn, Andie. Alain loves you. Grab that and be happy."

  "Condoms, fashion advice and premarital counseling." Andie laughed carelessly, not feeling like laughing at all. Everything Tracy said was true, but she didn't want to hear it. "I think you're missing your calling, studying anthropology. If digging up old pots loses its charm, you have a bright future as an advice columnist. Or a talk-show host."

  "And you've got a bright future as an old maid unless you get as practical and down-to-earth about Conn as you are about everything else in your life," Tracy shot back, only half joking. "You are the most together woman I know, Andie. You've got your whole life under control except where Connor Devlin's concerned. And it's—"

  "Off-limits," Andie said quietly. "Don't push it, Tracy."

  Tracy paused, mouth still open, obviously brimming over with good advice she was dying to share. Then, wisely, she shut it and nodded, smiling good-naturedly. "Sorry."

  Andie had to laugh, reaching out to ruffle Tracy's mop of hair. "You're forgiven. And you said you were going to bring back the camera I lent you six months ago, remember?"

  "It's in the car – I'll bring it in while you finish packing." She grinned, heading for the door. "And take that sexy nightie, big sister. You just never know…"

  * * *

  Timberwolf Lodge was set high up in the Cascades, a major ski resort that in the off-season specialized in hosting getaway business conferences and workshops. It was about a three-hour drive from Seattle, but it was going to take them closer to five, Conn figured.

  He was in no rush to get there. It was a beautiful morning, the air like crystal, the sky the color of wedgewood, without a cloud to mar it. The kind of morning he all-too-rarely stopped to enjoy. But he was damned well going to enjoy this one.

  He'd picked Andie up a little after seven that morning and he was deliberately taking his time, stopping at every lookout, pulling over at one point to watch three deer graze on a nearby hillside. They picked up a couple of soft drinks and some grapes at a roadside market and then, a few miles later, pulled off at a picnic table by a small lake and ate them in the late-morning sunshine, laughing and chatting about this and that.

  It had been too long since he'd done this sort of thing, Conn thought as the road wound ever higher and the mountains started to close in around them. The past ten years had been good ones, but they'd taken their toll. Two marriages, among other things.

  Frowning, he guided his mind away from that topic as skillfully as he guided his Jeep around a tight hairpin curve. The air was spicy with the scent of pine and he took a deep breath of it, feeling some of the tightness across his shoulders fall away, realizing he was honestly looking forward to the next few days. Not just the prospect of getting the Becktron deal wrapped up, but just being out of the city.

  He glanced at Andie. She had her eyes closed and looked relaxed and happy, chestnut hair whipping around in the wind coming through the Jeep windows, one foot braced on
the gear console, the other long leg stretched out comfortably.

  Conn's gaze was drawn to those smooth, tanned legs again and again, and he wondered idly how long it had been since he'd seen her in shorts. Daring to take his eyes off the winding road, he gave the rest of her a thoughtful glance. Her bare arms and shoulders were sun-browned, too, as was the sweep of skin above the simple top she was wearing, and he found himself thinking a little irritably that it looked like a sailing tan.

  Did that French-Canadian she was dating take her sailing? he wondered. There'd once been a time when he'd taken her sailing, but he never seemed to be able to fit it in anymore. Judith had hated the boat, had hated being taken away from her work, and although he'd gone out by himself a few times, it just hadn't been the same.

  And he missed it, he realized suddenly. Missed the sailing, and missed Andie. She was his best friend, yet they hardly spent time together. Maybe it was time to change that.

  If she didn't marry that damned DeRocher, of course. He was beginning to wish he'd never introduced the two of them in the first place.

  Impulsively, he reached across and covered one of Andie's hands with his, meshing their fingers. She opened her eyes and looked at him questioningly, and Conn just smiled. "Kind of feels like old times, doesn't it? It's been a long while since we spent a weekend together."

  Andie smiled dryly. "If you'd quit getting married, maybe we could fit it in. But your wives have never liked the idea of your spending time with your administrative assistant."

  To his surprise, it made Conn laugh. "Liza always did think you and I had something going. And Judith…" He shrugged. "Well, Judith probably wouldn't have minded if we had, as long as it got me out of her hair so she could get some work done."

  Andie's fingers tightened slightly on his, and Conn smiled slightly. "In a way, I probably deserved it. What goes around comes around."

  "Playing second fiddle to Judith's career?"

  "Like Liza played second fiddle to mine," he said quietly. The road took a sharp right turn and Conn had to let go of Andie's hand to downshift. But she didn't draw it back into her lap, and after he'd brought the Jeep through the curve and had shifted back into third, he reached down and braided his fingers with hers again.

  "She married me, figuring she was getting the perfect husband. Billy Soames and I had beat the odds and the company was going strong, I'd just bought the house, things looked great."

  "Every coed's dream," Andie muttered beside him.

  Conn smiled. Andie had never liked Liza. And in spite of his best efforts, the feeling had been mutual.

  "Then you and Billy disagreed about the business risks you were willing to take," she said. "You bought him out and put Devlin Electronics into high gear and suddenly Liza had an absentee husband who worked, ate and slept work."

  "You can't blame her for being pretty choked up. Hell, she was still in college. Everyone was still partying 'til dawn, going skiing, having a good time. Except us. I was working twenty-hour days, didn't even have time to talk to her half the time let alone take her to parties. She was stuck out in that huge house by herself."

  "She knew what she was getting into," Andie said with quiet intensity. "If she'd paid any attention to what you were doing, she'd have known you can't just—"

  "No excuses, darlin'," Conn said with a soft laugh. "It was my fault the marriage failed – there's no getting around it. She wanted kids right away, I didn't. She wanted a normal life with a husband who was around, and I couldn't give it to her. When she met Richard and divorced me, it was the smartest thing she could have done. For both of us."

  He managed a rough smile. "Ironic that one of the reasons Judith left me was because I wanted kids and she didn't. That I was ready to settle down and start taking things easy and her career was just starting to take off."

  "Yeah, you do seem to have trouble getting it right, Devlin." Andie let her head fall back against the headrest and turned to look at him, letting her gaze follow the familiar contours of his strong profile.

  She could still see the faint scar running along the angle of his jaw where he'd nearly killed himself twenty years ago, falling off old man Hennigan's garage roof into a pile of scrap lumber. She'd thought he had killed himself that afternoon, looking down off the edge of the roof and seeing him lying there, pale and still, covered with blood.

  She could still remember how sick with terror she'd been, how great, even then, the sense of loss. She'd nearly broken her own neck scrambling down off the roof. By the time she'd fought her way over the fence and through the blackberry brambles to where he'd fallen, he'd managed to sit up, dazed and still bleeding.

  He'd reached for her instinctively and she'd been there for him, clutching him against her, sticky with blood, then, finally, screaming at the top of her lungs, terrified to leave his side. Hennigan and two other neighbors had come running; someone had called the ambulance, someone else had called his parents.

  An afternoon in the hospital and fifteen stitches later, he was home, grinning that cocky thirteen-year-old grin, showing off the bandages like a war hero, basking in the awe-filled adulation of his peers.

  But that day had marked a change in their relationship. Until then, they'd been next-door buddies, getting in and out of scrapes, sharing adventures and comic books and the occasional soft drink. But from that afternoon on, there had been something special between them, something strong and private that excluded everyone else.

  A few days later, Conn had taken her out into the garage and had rummaged through his father's toolbox until he'd found the hunting knife. Solemnly, he'd made a deep cut first on his thumb, then on hers. They'd held them together and had sworn a blood-brother oath to always be there for each other, to always be best friends.

  Smiling, Andie ran her finger down the scar on her thumb. Blood brothers.

  * * *

  They pulled up into the parking lot at Timberwolf a little before noon, and Conn was pleased to notice that the others were already there. Margie's little red car was parked next to Bob Miller's sedan, and Frank Czarnecki's muddy old truck sat off to one side. There were a couple of other cars there he didn't recognize – Beck's people, probably.

  Beck and his son were coming in by helicopter later that afternoon. Conn had thought of flying in himself at one point, but he was glad now he hadn't. He felt rested and relaxed and ready for battle, and he found himself grinning for no particular reason as he carried his garment bag and Andie's small suitcase up the wide stone steps.

  The big carved pine doors were standing open to the morning's warmth, and as he waited for Andie to go through, he looked around with satisfaction. Perfect. With the ski runs closed and the summer season not yet open, things were dead quiet. Perfect for the kind of intense negotiations ahead.

  Conn's grin widened as he followed Andie across the massive great room to the desk, enjoying the silken flash of her long tanned legs in the sunlight filtering through the acres of glass arching up and across the far end of the lodge. No doubt about the scenery being pretty damn good.

  Not that Andie's legs were the only gorgeous thing in the place. The cathedral ceiling rose twenty feet above them, crisscrossed with massive timber rafters. Racks of elk and deer antlers hung here and there along the walls, and under them were hundreds of framed photographs documenting the history of the lumber industry in the area. A massive fieldstone fireplace and hearth took up almost one end wall and groupings of comfortable furniture sat around big braided rag rugs that lay like bright pools on the golden pine floor.

  The manager greeted them both energetically, said the others were out on the big flagstone terrace having lunch, and then gave them their keys and pointed them toward the wide split-log stairs leading upstairs.

  They had the two end suites, and Conn followed Andie into hers and put her bag down, looking around approvingly. "This'll do fine." He nodded toward the door connecting this suite with his own. "Mind if I open that? When the going gets hot and heavy, it'l
l make things easier."

  Andie glanced at the door, having to smile. "Sure, as long as you think you can control yourself."

  He just looked at her blankly.

  Andie rolled her eyes with mock exasperation. "Thanks a lot, Devlin! When the going gets hot and heavy – get it? You're supposed to say that it'll be difficult as hell controlling yourself, having a beautiful, naked woman sleeping just steps away. Most bosses would think they'd died and gone to heaven, having an opportunity to sneak into their assistant's bedroom at midnight for a little hanky-panky."

  Conn gave her such an odd look that Andie had to laugh out loud. "Joke, Devlin," she said, still laughing. "It was just a joke! Of course you can open it. I'm sure I'll be quite safe."

  If she had any sense, she'd sneak into his room at midnight and see what trouble she could stir up.

  Conn was still frowning, as though not too certain he really got the joke, but he unlocked the door after a moment or two and walked through to his own side in thoughtful silence. And Andie, watching him, didn't know whether to throw something or just laugh.

  * * *

  Chapter 5

  « ^ »

  A beautiful, naked woman sleeping just steps away…

  Swearing under his breath, Conn rolled onto his back, kicking his feet free of the sheets, and glowered at the ceiling.

  If only she knew. If she had any idea of the fantasies that had been taunting him these past couple of days, of the thoughts that had been slithering around in the darker corners of his mind. Bad thoughts. Dark thoughts. Thoughts that no decent man had about his best friend…

  A beautiful, naked woman sleeping just steps away…

  The image wouldn't leave him. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see her in there, lying between the crisp cotton sheets in that massive king-size bed.