Even the fact Frank Daggett was returning from his holiday could not dampen Kate’s mood when she walked into the station on Monday morning. She had spent her weekend sequestered in her house due to a winter storm that brought a mixture of rain, snow, and blustery wind to most of the United Kingdom, and it was just what Kate needed. The gray skies and dreary weather took away every excuse Kate could come up with to get out of the house, and instead, she spent the weekend catching up on everything a workaholic lets slide. She cleaned and washed, polished and vacuumed, and when the sun finally set, Kate picked up a good book and relaxed the night away. She sipped dark red vintages and listened to Bach on the stereo, and when the book no longer held her interest, her thoughts returned to Brodie Shaw.

Kate had never enjoyed walking down a crowded street until Friday night. Window shopping had always seemed pointless until a game had been introduced, and when only one trinket caught her eye in a jewelry store display and Brodie chose the same one, Kate was taken aback. She couldn’t deny the chemistry that existed between them no matter how hard she tried, but how could anyone know her that well so quickly? And why did Kate like it?

When Kate got to her desk, she found a beet-faced Frank Daggett glaring back at her. “Something wrong?” she said as she dropped her handbag in a drawer.

“Where you do you get off closing cases when I’m not here?”

Kate plopped into her chair and fought to keep a straight face. “Unless they changed something in the rule book, Frank, I don’t need your permission to close a case when it’s been solved.”

“I’ve got seniority, or did you forget that?”

“Again, seniority or not, I don’t need your permission. If you have a problem with how I do my job, then take it up with the Chief Inspector, who, by the way, reviewed those cases before I closed them. He didn’t see a problem. I didn’t see a problem, so if you think there’s a problem, his office is right over there,” Kate said, pointing across the room.

“I know where it is,” Frank growled, and as he stood up, he leaned in close. “And I wouldn’t get too comfortable if I were you. After I get done talking to him, you’ll be lucky to still have a job.”

As Kate knew it would, nothing happened. Behind the closed doors of a glassed-in office, she watched as Frank waved his arms in the air as if swatting a squadron of flies, and then he stomped a few invisible grapes until he finally yanked the door open and marched out. Defeat was not an easy pill to swallow, and Frank had no intention of swallowing anything until he made sure everyone in the station knew his displeasure. He proceeded to spout diatribes about Kate’s inability to follow proper police procedures to everyone who would listen and several who didn’t but, trapped in corners of the station, and unable to escape, they were forced to feign interest. The good old boys hung on every word, tutting and pontificating annoyance about the up-and-coming detectives half their age, and the demonstration of childishness continued even after Kate and Frank left the station. Frank griped and grumbled for four days, and between his rants, raves, and lack of driving etiquette, by the end of the week, Kate was feeling more than a bit frazzled, yet when she left the station Friday night, her smile reappeared. Kate checked her mirrors and pulling out of the parking lot, she headed toward Calabria.

 

***

 

“This is becoming a standing date, isn’t it?”

Brodie stepped out of her bathroom and sent the woman sitting at her drafting table a cursory glance. “It’s not a date, and don’t you have someplace better to be?”

“Gina’s working, and since you forgot to mention that two of your clients want home theaters and whole-house audio systems, either I get this done tonight or come Monday, you won’t have a quote to give them.”

“On second thought, stay as long as you’d like.” Brodie sat on the edge of her bed and tugged on a pair of black, ankle-high suede boots.

“And now that we’ve got that out of the way, answer the question.”

“I already did,” Brodie said, getting to her feet. “It’s not like she calls me. She just shows up, and we have dinner. That’s all.”

“Wait,” Devon said, shaking her head. “She doesn’t call you?”

“Nope.”

“And you don’t call her?”

“I don’t have her number.”

“What?” Devon said, rocking back on the chair. “What do you mean you don’t have her number?”

“I never asked for it, and she’s never offered,” Brodie said as she made her way to her dresser.

“Does she have yours?”

“Um…yeah, but she’s never called.”

“Seriously?” Devon squeaked.

Brodie grinned as she fastened her watch. “Yes, Devon. Seriously.”

“And how many Friday night dinners have there been?”

“Four, not including tonight,” Brodie said as she left the room.

Devon hopped off the tall drafting chair, catching up to Brodie in the kitchen. “And then you go to a club, and she goes home?”

Brodie shuffled through some mail on the counter, refusing to acknowledge the woman who was currently tilting her head as if the world had slipped off its axis.

“Why are you ignoring me?” Devon said, crossing her arms. “You are going to the clubs—right?”

“I can’t find my bloody keys,” Brodie said, pushing past Devon. “Have you seen them?”

Devon knew a brush-off when she saw one, and it only took a minute of watching Brodie rearrange the pillows on the sofa to figure out why. “Oh my, God!” Devon said, bringing her hands to her cheeks. “You’re not dating, are you?”

Brodie shot Devon a look as she stood straight. “I don’t date,” she said, heading back to the kitchen. “You know that.”

“Fine,” Devon said, rolling her eyes. “You can call it whatever you want, but whatever it is, you’re not doing it. Are you?”

“I can’t find my fucking keys,” Brodie muttered, opening a few drawers.

“Is Kate the only woman you’re seeing?”

“Where in the hell are my bloody—”

Devon grabbed Brodie by the arm and spun her around. “Is Kate the only woman you’re seeing?”

“I’m not seeing Kate,” Brodie said, giving Devon a dirty look. “We have dinner. That’s all.”

When Brodie tried to walk away, Devon blocked her path. “You know what I’m asking, so stop being coy and answer the question.”

“Why should I?” Brodie said, taking a step backward. “It’s no business of yours, so just drop it.”

“This is my sister we’re talking about, and I have a right to know if you’ve fallen for her.”

“Oh yeah?” Brodie said, giving Devon the once over. “Just like she has the right to know you’re shagging Gina?”

Devon hung her head. “Touché.”

“Sorry,” Brodie said, frowning. “That was a bit below the belt.”

“Yes, it was, but you made your point.”

“Look, Kate loves you, and she loves Gina, and I’m sure she’ll be okay with this eventually.”

“You think so?” Devon said, raising her eyes.

“Sure,” Brodie said, shrugging. “Just give her ten or twenty years, and she’ll come around.”

“Bitch,” Devon said, playfully slapping Brodie’s arm.

Brodie laughed and gave Devon a quick hug. “And now, if you’re done interrogating me, I really need to find my keys, or I’m going to be late.”

Devon pressed her lips together and sashaying into the dining room, she grabbed the set of keys off the table. Returning to Brodie, she dropped them in her hand. “There you go.”

“You could have told me, you know?”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

With a huff, Brodie pocketed her keys and headed for the door. “Oh, by the way,” she said as she put on her coat. “You did tell Gina about next weekend, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, she knows about it.”

“Great,” Brodie said, opening the door. “Okay, so I’ll see you when I see you.”

“Wait a second,” Devon said, making her way over to Brodie.

“What’s up?”

“Look, you know Gina and I both think Kate likes you more than just as a friend, but she’s always been very directional in her life. She’s always had a plan—”

“And I’m not a part of it. Is that what you’re saying?

“I just don’t want you to get hurt,” Devon said, touching Brodie on the sleeve.

“Devon, you don’t need to worry about that. Kate’s never done anything that would make me believe she wants more out of our relationship than friendship, and I’ve accepted that.”

“I just don’t want to lose you as a friend if things go south.”

Brodie’s mouth curved with tenderness, and leaning down, she placed a light kiss on Devon’s cheek. “That’s not going to happen. Trust me, okay? I’m smart enough to know that sooner or later, some bloke is going to come along, and Kate will cease to need me as her Friday night dinner companion. But, until that happens, I’m going to enjoy our time together.”

“And if that happens?”

“When that happens, I’ll move on, simple as that. I won’t fall apart or jump off a bridge or anything. I’m a big girl, Devon. No need to worry about me.”

 

***

 

Brodie stood at the bar and took a sip of her scotch. She hissed at the taste for the flavor was foul tonight, just like her mood. Her first stop had been The Loft, but spotting a tall blonde with an appetite for bruises and bites, Brodie left before ordering a drink and headed to Outskirts.

Upscale and trendy, Outskirts was frequented by those making a name for themselves in business, finance, and technology, apparent by the designer clothes, high-end footwear, and Rolexes wrapped around almost every wrist. Although first opened as a gay and lesbian nightclub, the word soon spread that Outskirts was the place to be and in no time at all its clientele became a mixture of gay, straight, and those somewhere in between.

The club was housed in a converted warehouse, and the interior was ultra-modern, chic, and massive. The owners, knowing their return on investment would be based on the amount of alcohol they sold, had designed the club with that in mind. Instead of offering only one bar where patrons would clamber to buy their drinks, Outskirts had three, and each had a slightly different atmosphere than the other two.

The largest, centered in the club, was rectangular with no seating surrounding it. Typically the first stop for those entering the club, drinks came fast and furious to all who wanted to get a jump-start on the evening. To the left and right of that bar were the dance floors, each covered in polished, black laminate flooring. Dozens of small droplights were scattered overhead and holding bulbs of every color, as the music blaring from the speakers changed, so did the lighting.

In the far corners of the club were the other two liquor stations. Slightly smaller than the first, they were surrounded by stools where those weary from dancing could rest between songs. High and low-top tables were scattered in every available space, and on a Friday night, few were empty.

Brodie scanned the crowd with disinterest. She had started her evening in Calabria, and for two hours, she watched as people came and went through a door with a bell hanging above it. Each time Brodie heard it ring, she’d look up, straightening her backbone and displaying her most dazzling of smiles, but within seconds, Brodie’s shoulders would slump just like her smile. She had nursed a glass of wine for the first hour and finished off three cups of coffee during the second before storming out of the restaurant with her head held high. This wasn’t who she was. This wasn’t who she wanted to be, and this was over.

Brodie had planned to throw herself back into the nightlife of London and philander her way through the evening, but as she took another taste of her scotch, its flavor revolted her almost as much as her intentions. Setting the glass on the bar, Brodie pushed it away and strode toward the exit. She weaved her way through the crowd, sidestepping both undulating, lithe dancers and some who appeared as if they were convulsing, and when she spotted an opening in the throng, Brodie rushed through it. A second later, she came to an abrupt stop. The sea of people began closing in on her like a pandemic making its way across a continent, but Brodie stood her ground. Open-mouthed, she remained stock-still and watched as Kate deftly and slowly maneuvered her way across the dance floor.

“Hiya, Brodie,” Kate said, raising her voice above the music.

“What are you doing?” Brodie shouted. “How’d you find me?”

“I wanted to apologize for missing dinner. I got called out on a case, and it took longer than I thought. I tried to ring you, but it went straight to voice mail.”

Brodie pulled her mobile out and tapped on the screen. “Shit,” she said, pressing the button on the side before returning it to her pocket. “I had a meeting today and forgot to turn it back on. Sorry.”

The synthesized percussion of the electronic dance music pumping out of the speakers grew louder as the next song began, and pointing to her ears, Kate shook her head in response.

Brodie motioned for Kate to follow her, and when they reached one of the darkened corners, the volume of the music dropped dramatically.

“Wow. This is much better,” Kate said, looking around.

“There are no speakers back here,” Brodie said. “I figured it would be better than trying to scream over the music.”

“Yes, it is.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Brodie saw a couple at a nearby high-top leaving to return to the dance floor, and taking three quick steps, she snagged the table and waved Kate over. “Will this work for you?”

“Absolutely,” Kate said, climbing onto the chair.

“So, can I buy you a drink?”

“After the week I’ve had, you might be buying me more than one.”

“Doable,” Brodie said, grinning. “I’ll be right back.”

As soon as Brodie walked away, Kate let out a long breath. Unable to reach the woman by phone, once she was done with the burglary call, Kate didn’t wait for Frank to drive her back to the station. Instead, she jumped into a cab and headed to Calabria only to find Brodie had already left. Single-minded, Kate hailed another taxi and gave instructions to the driver to take her to every lesbian club in the area, and forty minutes later, Kate spotted Brodie’s car parked down the block from Outskirts. The lengthy queue was the least of Kate’s worries, and striding to the front, she showed her warrant card to the muscled men at the entrance, and their gold-capped teeth lit up the darkness as they opened the door to allow her inside.

The club was crowded and deafening. The dance floors overflowed with people gyrating to the latest in electronic hip-hop blasting from the speakers while others, wearing fragrances meant to attract, moved through the club in search of a partner for the night or perhaps for life. The air was thick with the smell of alcohol and cologne, and to even the most unsuspecting visitor, it was clear that the clientele of Outskirts was as varied as the aromas filling the air.

Kate stood like a statue just inside the entrance. What was she doing there? Why had she found it necessary to hunt Brodie down and apologize for missing a date that wasn’t? Reality hit home when Kate looked out across the sea of people enjoying the evening with their significant others. She wasn’t there to ask for forgiveness or offer explanations because she’d done that in the message she’d left on Brodie’s voice mail, and she wasn’t there for dinner for that’s not what the club offered. Kate was there because she couldn’t bear the thought of waiting another week to see Brodie.

Kate took a quick step backward, the truth forcing the air from her lungs. Her first thought was to run, to escape into the night, and allow her message to explain her absence, but then the crowd parted, and when she saw Brodie, Kate became a moth to a flame. Her eyes met those of dark brown, and the empty feeling in the pit of Kate’s stomach was gone, replaced by a tickling of butterflies and an irrepressible smile.

“What’s the smile about?” Brodie said, placing two glasses of Chardonnay on the table.

Kate broke out of her thoughts with a jerk. “Oh, um…nothing,” she said, looking around. “This place is amazing. That’s all.”

“Yes, it is, although it can be a bit overwhelming at times.”

“I can see that.” Kate picked up her wine, and while she took a sip, she noticed more than a few straight couples nearby. “But I thought this was a gay club,” she said, looking in their direction as she returned her glass to the table.

“It is, except gays don’t discriminate like straights do,” Brodie said, her teeth gleaming in her grin. “And when word got out about the dance floors and the bars, the well-to-do began flocking here in droves. It’s amazing how non-discriminatory people can become when they want to have a good time.”

“So it doesn’t bother you?”

“Why would it? There are plenty of women to go around, and those walking in without blokes on their arms aren’t here looking for men. Trust me. I know,” Brodie said, and picking up her wine, she took a sip.

Kate shifted in her seat, and snatching up her Chardonnay, she emptied half the glass. The light-bodied wine went down smoothly, and if Kate had wanted to appreciate the flavor, she would have noticed the hint of apple and pear on her palate, but she didn’t. She did, however, see an attractive woman wearing an incredibly form-fitting little black dress, making a beeline for their table.

“Well, as I live and breathe! How the hell are you doing, stud?”

Brodie’s eyes flew open wide, and hurrying to set her glass down, she leapt to her feet. “Oh my, God,” she said, throwing her arms around the woman. “What the world are you doing here?”

“I came into town Wednesday on business, and I wasn’t about to turn around and head back to Texas without visiting a few clubs.”

Brodie loosened her grip and holding the woman at arm’s length, her eyes casually traveled over the woman’s body. “You look great. You haven’t changed a bit.”

“Thanks,” she said before looking at Kate. “Who’s your friend?”

“Oh, Christ, where are my manners?” Brodie said, glancing between the two women. “Kate Monroe, meet Harper Adams, an old friend of mine.”

“I’ll forget you said old,” Harper said with a chuckle as she held out her hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Kate.”

Kate extended her hand, forcing a smile as she eyed the woman. Slightly shorter than Brodie and appearing to be in her late forties, Harper’s age hadn’t affected her beauty. Her skin was porcelain, and the few wrinkles that did exist seemed to add depth to her good looks. Her short, vibrant red hair was cut in a wispy bob and wearing a knit dress that clung to every curve, even though Harper was older than most in the room, there was no doubt in Kate’s mind that the woman could pull with the best of them…and Harper Adams knew it.

No sooner had the handshake ended when Kate saw Harper lean into Brodie. She whispered something in Brodie’s ear, her face brightening as she played with the gray hair at Brodie’s temples, and suddenly Kate felt like a third wheel. Out of place and out of her element in a lesbian club, Kate was quickly growing annoyed at the situation, the interruption, and the fact that it was crystal clear that Harper Adams had once pulled Brodie Shaw.

Kate pushed her frustration aside and decided to get the most obvious question out of the way. “So, how do you two know each other?”

“Brodie and I go way back,” Harper said, nudging Brodie. “Don’t we, stud?”

It was all Kate could do not to curl her lip. Knowing Brodie was a player was one thing, but having it made blatantly clear by a stacked redhead in a skin-tight dress was quite another. This wasn’t how she had planned to spend her Friday night, and Kate’s head began to pound.

Brodie was enjoying the unexpected reunion, and it showed on her face, but as she glanced back and forth between the two women, her expression began to waver. Kate’s jaw was clenched, and whenever she looked in Harper’s direction, the look wasn’t a look—it was a cold, hard stare. Harper, on the other hand, was displaying her biggest Texas smile, content in dancing her fingers down Brodie’s arm or lightly touching her hand, and the signals were unmistakable. Brodie had seen them before. Harper was laying claim to her…whether Kate liked it or not.

A decade before, while working her way up the ladder in the advertising business, Harper Adams had been transferred to her company’s office in London. Housed in the same building where Brodie worked, it wasn’t long before the two women met and fell into a very comfortable, lustful relationship. Since neither wanted anything long-term, their relationship was based on parties, drinking, and sex, and they spent several years simply enjoying each other’s company. But truth be known, it was in the bedroom where their relationship thrived. Healthy, adventurous, and ten years older than Brodie, Harper had several more notches in her belt than her younger counterpart, and she was more than willing to share her knowledge. And share it, she did.

Before meeting Harper, Brodie wasn’t into sex toys or shags in the loo. She wasn’t into loud parties, dancing until midnight, and clubs like The Loft, but the tall Texan had changed all that. Harper was the teacher, and Brodie was the student, and before long, shagging in a bathroom, or wearing a harness to please her lover, became commonplace. Although they adored each other, love had never entered the equation. During the five years she worked and lived in London, Harper dated several women, as did Brodie, but every few weeks, one would call the other, and they’d spend a few days honing their skills. It was a perfect partnership on the most basic of levels.

Harper had arrived in London in the wee hours of Wednesday morning, and after completing her work in record time, she went out and purchased the skimpiest, sexiest black dress she could find. After spraying on what she knew was Brodie’s favorite perfume, Harper began making the rounds. Friday nights had always been Brodie’s club night, giving her two days to recover from whatever or whomever she got into, so Harper wasted no time in traveling to all their usual haunts in search of an old lover with skills second to none.

By the time she reached Outskirts, Harper had thought her night would end in the arms of a stranger until she saw Brodie sitting at a high-top. Her blood heated and her body pulsed, and for a good reason. With what Harper had in mind, they would both need the weekend to recover.

The rakish glint Brodie saw in Harper’s eyes was undeniable. It was a silent suggestion to visit the loo or find an empty corner, car, or hotel. Demanding, possessive, and hungry, it was filled with promises of a night without sleep, and the thought gave Brodie pause. It had been a long time since she’d spent an entire evening with a woman, preferring quick wham-bam-thank-you-ma’ams, over nights that turned into mornings, and to make matters worse, even those had come to an end since she’d met Kate. Brodie knew she only had to return Harper’s attention with some of her own, and the drought would come to an end, but when she looked at Kate, and their eyes met, the thought of spending the night with Harper lost its appeal.

Harper’s posture sagged just a smidge, watching as the two women appeared to be mesmerized by the other. If she had targeted another that night, some random woman she didn’t know or care about, Harper would have turned up the charm and gone back to her hotel with her conquest, except Brodie wasn’t a trophy. She was a friend and one who owned more of Harper’s heart then she cared to admit. Even though before she had reached the table, Harper knew Brodie wasn’t alone, she believed the battle had already been won. Attractive as Kate was, Harper had come up against stronger competition in the looks department, and she had walked away the victor, but this wasn’t about looks or even history. This was about chemistry, and in that department, it was quite apparent that Kate Monroe owned Brodie’s periodic table.

Harper knew her plans for the evening had now changed, but she wasn’t yet willing to bid farewell to her old friend. Noticing the wide-bowled stemware on the high-top, she said, “Since when do you drink wine, stud?”

Brodie moved her focus from Kate back to Harper. “People change, Harper.”

“Yes, I can see that,” Harper said, giving Kate a cursory look. “But before I go on the prowl, how about buying us a round…for old times?”

“That I can do,” Brodie said, picking up the empty glasses. “Be right back.”

Kate hadn’t missed the lack of ear-splitting music until Brodie walked away, leaving her alone with the exquisite Harper Adams in a deafening bubble of silence. After several excruciatingly awkward seconds passed without a word between them, Kate blurted, “So…you in town for long?”

Harper smiled. “Don’t worry. I’m leaving Sunday morning.”

“Worry?”

“Meaning, I’m not going to try to steal Brodie away from you.”

Kate sat straighter in her seat. “Oh…um…Brodie isn’t my girlfriend. We’re just friends.”

Harper’s eyes crinkled at the corners, but before she could speak, Brodie returned with their drinks.

“Here you go,” she said, placing a small tray holding six shot glasses on the table. “I’m assuming you still drink tequila—yes?”

“For breakfast, lunch, and dinner, stud,” Harper said, and taking a glass, she downed it in one gulp.

It was a nickname Harper had given her over one incredibly voracious weekend, and hearing it again, a slight blush crept across Brodie’s cheeks, thinking back to those two days. A split-second later, Brodie remembered something else. Alcohol loosened Harper’s lips, and if the Texan decided to reminisce, tonight would be the last night Brodie would ever see Kate. Brodie wracked her brain, trying to come up with a plausible reason to get Harper alone when Harper came to her rescue.

“How about a dance for old times?” Harper said, tugging on Brodie’s sleeve. “What do you say?”

Kate smiled weakly when Brodie looked in her direction. “Go ahead. I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, of course,” Kate said, eyeing the tray of tequila. “It sounds like you haven’t seen each other in years so, go ahead. Enjoy yourself.”

Brodie took Harper’s hand. “Okay, thanks. We won’t be long. I promise.”

Kate watched as they disappeared into the crowd, and a few seconds passed before she spotted them on the dance floor, moving together as if they were Siamese twins joined at the pelvis. Kate downed the contents of one of the shot glasses, and hissing at the burn, she slammed the glass on the table.

Kate had come to the club to see Brodie, to talk to her, and to enjoy another Friday night in her company. She hadn’t planned for the evening to be interrupted by an old flame, and as she watched the two women move as one, all Kate wanted to do was go over and interrupt their reunion. She didn’t like the casual touches. She hated the way they moved in perfect unison. She loathed the fact they had once shared a bed together, and if Harper called Brodie ‘stud’ one more time, Kate would not be held accountable for her actions. Eyeballing the drinks in front of her, Kate picked up the next.

“I like your friend. She’s cute,” Harper said, glancing over at Kate.

“Yes, she is.”

“Do you think she’d be interested in a little get-together later on?”

Brodie scowled. “She’s straight, Harper.”

“So was that one in Madrid,” Harper said, snickering. “But that didn’t stop us, now did it?”

“Kate’s not like that.”

“How do you know? Threesomes can be fun, or have you forgotten?”

Brodie’s expression darkened even further. “No, I haven’t forgotten, but like I told you, Kate’s straight so rein in your bloody hormones, Harper.”

“Relax,” Harper said with a laugh. “I’m just playing with you. I’ll be leaving after this dance.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I know when I’m not wanted.”

It was Brodie’s turn to laugh. “Harper, it’s not like that. Kate and I are just friends.”

“From where I come from, we call that bullshit.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter what you think it’s called, because I’m telling you, she and I are just friends.”

Harper studied Brodie, waiting while the song faded and another began. The tempo of the next was slow, and the thunder of the electronic hip-hop was replaced by the synthesized strings of a modern-day love song. Pulling Brodie into her arms, as they continued to move to the music, Harper whispered in Brodie’s ear, “Honey, you and Kate may only be friends, but don’t think for one minute I believe you don’t want more. So, stop trying to convince me. It’s boring, and you have never been boring.”

Brodie’s lack of response signaled she was done with the conversation, so Harper took the time to scan the room for her next victim. More than once, her eyes traveled to Kate, and each time, Harper found the woman staring back at her.

Smiling, Harper whispered in Brodie’s ear again. “If she’s so straight, why can’t she take her eyes off of us?”

Brodie went to turn in Kate’s direction only to have Harper pull her back around. “Don’t look, you idiot.”

“Is she really watching us?”

Harper burst into giggles, the charismatic Brodie Shaw sounding more like a love-struck teenager than a woman who could pull anyone in the room. “Oh, my God,” she said. “You’ve got it bad, don’t you?”

Brodie's jaw tightened. “I swear to God if you’re winding me up…”

“I’m not.”

“Well, is she looking at us, or isn’t she?”

“No, she’s looking at you and has been ever since we stepped foot out here,” Harper said, and placing her hands on Brodie’s ass, Harper pulled her even closer.

“What the hell are you doing?” Brodie said, trying to back away.

“Relax, stud. I’m just proving a point.”

“And what point would that be?”

Harper quickly glanced over at Kate before looking Brodie in the eye. “First, I want you to kiss me.”

“No.”

“Why not? If Kate thinks of you only as a friend, why would it matter?”

“It matters to me, Harper. That’s all you need to know.”

Harper’s eyes misted over, and letting out a long breath, she ran her finger down Brodie’s cheek. “Honey, you and I have been through a lot together. We’ve had great laughs and unbelievable sex, but seeing the way you look at Kate, and the way she looks at you, well, that tells me that while you and I will always, always remain friends, we will never again be lovers. So, do your old friend a favor and kiss me like you mean it…for old time’s sake.”

Brodie stared Harper squarely in the eye, expecting to see a snippet of naughtiness stirring in the pale green gazing back at her. Instead, all she saw was sincerity and truth. Harper wasn’t playing games. She was merely saying goodbye, and denying her request was impossible. Leaning in, Brodie pressed her lips against Harper’s. The kiss was warm, and it was wet, a silent, tender farewell between two women who had taught each other so much.

When they came up for air, Harper’s eyes twinkled, and it had nothing to do with the lights shining down on them. “And now, you’d best skedaddle back to Kate because I think she’s going to need your help.”

“What are you talking about?” Brodie said as she tried to look in Kate’s direction. Blocked by the dancers, she turned back to Harper. “Is someone bothering her?”

“No, but how many shots did you bring to the table?”

“Six. Why?”

“And I drank one—right?”

“Yeah. So?”

“Because since we’ve been out here, your friend emptied the other five, and the bartender just brought over another tray.