His Best Friend's Wife

“Would you like one of us to pick you up?” he offered.

“No, I’ll drive. I’ll just need the address.”

She scribbled the address he gave her on a message pad she kept on her nightstand. She recognized the name of his apartment building, an upscale place only a few blocks from the eye clinic. She drove past it twice every weekday, but she’d no idea Evan lived there.

“You have my number if anything comes up in the meantime,” Evan reminded her.

His number would show on the list of received calls on her phone. She would store it in her phone’s contact list, just in case. “Yes, I have it.”

“Good.” His purported reason for the call out of the way, he moved to a more personal topic. “How have you been, Renae?”

“I’m well, thank you. And you?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” Was that an undertone of dissatisfaction in his voice? Perhaps in response to her insistence on remaining businesslike, despite his own change in tone?

After a brief hesitation, Evan said, “Renae—this scholarship. I just want you to know it means a lot to Tate and to me. I know we’ve been a little disorganized about it so far, but that doesn’t mean we don’t take it seriously. It’s something we’ve talked about doing since we started our business. We hope Jason would approve.”

She couldn’t stay quite so brusque in response to his very obvious sincerity. Her voice sounded a bit softer to her own ears when she murmured, “I know it would please him very much that you and Tate have chosen to honor him this way.”

“Thanks.” He cleared his throat. “So I’ll, uh, we’ll see you Wednesday?”

“Yes. Wednesday.”

Disconnecting the call, she sat for a few minutes longer in the silence of her sage-and-plum bedroom. A few photos were clustered on the cherry dresser that matched her bed and nightstand, furniture she’d purchased a year ago after starting her new job. She didn’t glance at the frames that held pictures of her children and her late husband, but she was suddenly, acutely aware of them.

The meeting she and Evan had arranged was all about the scholarship, she reminded herself. There was no other reason for her to go to Evan’s home, or to see him or Tate again. Lucy would probably accuse Evan of using the powers of persuasion she was sure he possessed to talk Renae into this meeting, but he’d done nothing more than offer her a chance to be involved with the program, and she had chosen to accept.

Maybe she wouldn’t mention the meeting to Lucy just yet. It would only upset her unnecessarily. Once the scholarship was better established, Lucy would probably be more accepting of Renae’s contact with Jason’s former friends, especially since it would be clear that it was about honoring Jason’s memory.

Having lost her biological mother when she was very young, Renae adored her mother-in-law, who had filled that gaping void with love and nurturing and stability. Renae would do nothing willingly to jeopardize that close relationship.

As confident as she had been that she’d made the right decision in choosing to attend the scholarship meeting, Renae still had second—and third, fourth and fifth—thoughts as she approached Evan’s door Wednesday evening after work. She’d spent a little too much time getting ready that morning, finally settling on a cherry-red sweater and dark pants that were both professional and flattering. She carried a roomy leather tote bag that held a folder full of materials about establishing scholarships, just in case Evan and Tate were interested in what she’d learned through her research.

After much deliberation, she had decided not to tell Lucy what she was doing this evening. This was the only day of the week when it would be possible to get away with the omission. The eye clinic was open until six on Wednesdays, an hour later than usual. Lucy picked up Leslie and Daniel from school, fed them an early dinner, then took them to church where she had Bible study and choir practice, and the twins attended kids’ Bible classes and children’s choir. They were never home until almost eight, so Renae took that evening as Mom’s night out, shopping or getting a manicure, sometimes meeting friends for dinner or a movie, other times just going home to read in rare, uninterrupted peace.

She wondered now if she should have gone home to read tonight.

She had announced her arrival downstairs and Evan had buzzed her in, so it was too late to cancel, though at least half a dozen times in the past few days she had reached for her phone to do just that. She had resisted the impulses only by refusing to allow herself to think about Evan and the past. She’d stayed busy with the life she’d made for herself, preparing for this appointment as she would any business meeting, and the days had flown past. Now she found herself standing in the hallway outside his apartment, not at all sure she was ready to see Evan again.

At least Tate would be there to defuse the tension, she reminded herself firmly. While Tate had also been a friend of Jason’s, he and Renae had no personal baggage between them. If he was still as chatty and jovial as he’d been back then, there should be few uncomfortable silences. She would keep the conversation focused on the scholarship and then they would go their own ways again.

Evan opened the door before she could even knock. “Renae. Hi, come in.”

He smiled at her as he invited her inside, and her pulse rate fluttered crazily in response.

So much for keeping her unwanted reactions to sexy Evan Daugherty firmly under control.

Chapter Two

Holding her head high and keeping her smile as relaxed as possible considering the chaos inside her, Renae stepped past Evan, looking around his home as she entered. The furnishings were tasteful—minimal, but nicely accented with plants. No surprise there, since that was Evan’s career specialty.

“Very nice,” she said, moving to admire the panorama of the north bank of the Arkansas River and the Little Rock skyline on the other side. The swirling river water reflected the deepening blue sky and mirrored the trees splashed with fall color. The scenery brightened up the beige-on-beige decor inside Evan’s apartment.

“I have to admit that view is why I chose this place.”

She realized Evan had stepped next to her to admire the panaroma, standing so close that an unguarded movement would cause their arms to touch. While she did not suspect he meant anything by the proximity other than affable view-sharing, she still moved away. “Something smells good.”

He remained where he was, keeping a respectable distance between them. “I picked up dinner on the way here. I hope you still like pizza.”

“Doesn’t everyone?” Ignoring his implication that he remembered her fondness for pizza, she glanced toward the other end of the room. Three flat boxes sat on a dining table on the other side of a low serving bar, next to plates, napkins, flatware and a stack of papers she assumed to be scholarship materials. “Three pizzas? Just how many people are on this committee?”

“Three,” he admitted rather sheepishly. “I wasn’t sure what toppings you like, so I got an assortment. I’ll dine on the leftovers for a few days.”

“When it comes to pizza, I’m not picky.”

“Can I get you something to drink while we wait for Tate? Or we could dig in and let him catch up when he gets here. I know your time is limited.”

His cell phone buzzed before she could answer. “That’s Tate,” he said with a glance at the screen. “There are drinks in the fridge, glasses set out on the counter. Help yourself while I find out what’s keeping him.”

She had just poured diet cola over ice when Evan joined her in the kitchen. She could tell by his expression what he was going to say even before he spoke.

“I’m sorry, but something has come up and Tate can’t make it. Looks like it’s just you and me.”

Renae swallowed hard and set the soda can down with a thump.

It flashed through her mind that Lucy would surely accuse Evan of arranging this so he would have Renae alone. Renae rejected that possibility as soon as it occurred to her. Judging by Evan’s expression, he was just as dismayed as she was that they wouldn’t have Tate as a buffer.

He must have seen the reservations in her eyes. “If you’d rather reschedule when Tate can join us …”

She shook her head, telling herself she was being foolish. Keeping her expression schooled and her voice brisk, she picked up her glass and moved toward the table. “Since I’m here, let’s take a look at what you have. I brought some information about other private scholarship programs, if you’d be interested in seeing it.”

He nodded cordially, matching her impersonal tone. “Yes, of course. Have a seat and help yourself to pizza, and we’ll go through the notes Tate and I have compiled so far.”

She sank into one of the four chairs at the slate-topped, bar-height table, hoping he would sit across from her, well out of accidental touching distance. Instead, he chose the place to her right, pulling a pizza box and a stack of papers toward them.

All too aware of how close he sat, of his elbow almost brushing hers when he moved, of the way he looked at her every time she glanced his way, she reached quickly for a file folder.

As he had warned her, the progress thus far was somewhat haphazard. At this point, the award was only a thousand dollars, but that helped with books and supplies. Evan and Tate had paid the scholarship out of their own pockets for the one check they had awarded thus far, but they’d started an account for future donations. They’d had several modest contributions from friends and associates. Financially, the program seemed to be off to a fair start, though Evan admitted they’d had little time to initiate fundraising efforts. He’d thought about sending out a letter to their old friends from high school and college, but he wasn’t very good at composing those things, he admitted.

“I can draft the letter,” Renae offered, making a note on the pad she’d opened beside her. She seemed to have stepped in as secretary of this informal committee, but that was fine with her. It played to her particular strengths and made her feel that she made a valuable contribution to the cause—and most of her input could be through email, she couldn’t help thinking.

Keeping her gaze on the paperwork, she listened to Evan’s explanation of the direction he and Tate had in mind for the scholarship and offered a few suggestions of her own. He was very receptive to her ideas, making annotations of his own to share with Tate later, and she was gratified by how open he was to her input.

The first recipient of the Jason Sanchez Memorial Scholarship had been nineteen-year-old Stuart O’Hara, who had since become newlywed Tate’s brother-in-law. There had been no formal application—Tate had offered Stuart the scholarship on an impulse when the young man had announced that he would not be attending college because of finances and other family issues. Evan had gone along because he and Tate had been discussing the establishment of a scholarship anyway, and he figured it was time to get started.

When Renae saw how seriously the young man was taking the honor, she felt a bit more comfortable with the nepotism of that first award. Evan had printed out three emails Stuart had sent about his academic progress that semester, each ending with a repetition of his gratitude for their assistance.

“He has an academic scholarship paying for his tuition and a student loan to cover living expenses, but this thousand-dollar award for books and supplies seems to mean a lot to him,” Evan explained. “I think it’s because he was on the verge of not attending college at all when Tate offered him our scholarship as a sign of faith in him. He was at a point in his life when he needed to hear that, I guess. Apparently, there were some family issues holding him back. But he seems to have committed himself completely to making a success of college. That’s why he keeps emailing us about his grades, even though he’s only been in school a couple of months. Tate’s actually had to remind him to make a little time for fun.”