Night Moves

At about three o’clock, her cell phone rang. She checked caller ID, and when she saw Shane Mobile, a whole flock of butterflies seemed to take residence in her stomach. Great. Now not only was she in lust with her best friend, she was completely befuddled in his presence. Even his cellular presence.

She snapped open the phone. “Hey!” It sounded perky, cheery and not the least bit horny. One point for her team.

“Hey, yourself.” The smile in his voice came over the phone lines loud and clear. “I’ve got your cabinets sanded and stained. They’re drying on the fire escape, and they should probably stay there overnight.”

“You’re a saint, you know that, right?”

“That’s me. Saint Walker.” A pause, then he said, “So what time are you getting home? We could paint the bathroom together. I’ve got it masked off.”

“Oh.” She pictured the clothes she’d worn when they’d painted three of the walls two nights ago—a pair of cutoffs so short, she never wore them in public and a flimsy men’s undershirt with the sleeves cut off. In the close quarters of her unventilated bathroom, the shirt would be sticking to her in no time, the shorts rubbing her in all sorts of provocative ways. And Shane would be right there, shirtless with a sheen of sweat, wearing those paint-splattered denim shorts that hugged his ass and—

“No.”

“What?” He sounded confused. Well, no wonder.

“Sorry. I’m just a little stressed. This paper isn’t going well. I was kind of thinking I’d stay at the library until late. Could I…I mean, could we take a rain check?”

“Sure thing, El.” The silence on the phone dragged on, and then he cleared his throat. “Um, El?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re not avoiding me, are you?”

Good Lord, was she that transparent? “Of course not. Why on earth would you say that? That’s just ridiculous!” She closed her eyes, certain he could tell she was lying.

“Sorry. I just thought…well, I know you’re mad at me for moving back and—”

“Oh, is that all?” She exhaled with relief, thrilled he was just worried about her temper and not her newfound lust. “Yes, I was mad, but I’m more sad. And I wouldn’t sulk and let you leave without seeing you. That would be punishing both of us. But I have to finish this project. I’m down to the wire. Really.”

“Right,” he said. “Of course. So, I guess I’ll just head home now and get caught up on packing. How about we meet for breakfast tomorrow and then finish the job?”

Tomorrow. Surely she could get her libido under control by tomorrow. “Sure,” she said. “That would be great.”

“Good luck with the paper,” he said, sounding like the good friend he was.

“Thanks. I’m sure I’ll whip it into shape,” she said, like the lustful, lying creature she was.

As soon as the line went dead, she snapped the phone closed, then looked around. She was standing in front of Crate and Barrel. Well, that would do.

Sometimes, though, window-shopping just didn’t do the trick. And so she went inside to engage in a little bit of credit-card therapy.

SHANE STARED AT THE now-dead phone, more disappointed than he wanted to admit. It certainly wasn’t Ella’s fault that her paper was due right around the time that he was packing up to leave, but that didn’t change the fact that he jealously guarded every minute they had together. He’d been secretly thrilled when she’d told him that Tony was in L.A. for business this week, since that meant even more minutes for Shane. But when time he thought was theirs was ripped away…well, he got a little pissed.

He wanted to get his plan underway. He was pumped up and ready. And he didn’t want to wait until the morning.

So do something about it.

He frowned at the thought. What was he supposed to do? She had to work and he had to pack.

After that, though…

He moved to the refrigerator and pulled out a soda, turning the thought over in his head. She hadn’t suggested doing anything afterward, probably because she planned to work pretty late and expected to be tired when she finished.

But that was okay. He could work with tired and he could work with late. They could have dessert. Maybe even a whole dinner. A bottle of bubbly. And watch a movie on DVD.

A perfectly relaxing evening, brought to her courtesy of her best friend. A best friend who, if he played his cards right, would end the evening with Ella naked in his arms.

At least, that’s what he was hoping for.

3

SLEEP WITH SHANE. THE idea kept skipping through Ella’s head like a stone bouncing across the surface of a lake.

No, no, no, no. No!

She did not have to jump on every single impulse. That’s what separated the humans from the animals, right?

During her four-hour shopping spree, she’d managed to spend only one dollar and sixty-three cents, the sum total for the chocolate bar and bottled water she’d picked up at a little bodega around the corner from Crate and Barrel. Her purchases—two hand-painted champagne flutes to add to her collection—didn’t count since she’d bought them on credit.

Now, heading home with her book bag slung over her shoulder and her shopping bag in her hand, she had to fight the almost physical urge to go back out and shop some more. The cowardly woman’s guide to relationship avoidance…

With a frustrated shake of her head she readjusted her bags and headed down into the subway, pausing only briefly to consider crossing the street and taking the train to Shane’s Upper East Side apartment. But no. She turned defiantly and headed for the train that would whisk her to the little studio she called home.

As much as she wanted to see Shane, it was probably better if she avoided him at least until tomorrow morning. By then, surely she would have wrangled her imagination back under control. Surely she’d be over this ridiculous desire to jump Shane’s bones.

The train was mostly empty, and she grabbed a seat by a window, looking out toward the black nothingness as the train whizzed through the tunnels, the conductor’s unintelligible voice announcing the various stops.

She let her mind wander and realized that, although she’d miss Shane when he moved back to Texas, maybe his leaving was for the best. She could manage one morning of keeping up a false front, but day after day? She was a grad student, not an actress.

That’s right, she told herself. No need to be sad Shane was leaving. It was all for the best. The only way it could be better was if one of them was married. She thought of Tony and smiled. Maybe soon she would be. And her libido would be aimed at only one man. Tony.

As soon as she had a ring on her finger, there would be no question about the parameters of her relationship with Shane. They’d be friends.

And absolutely nothing more.

THE FRIENDS-ONLY PLAN WAS firmly in her mind twenty minutes later as she stood in front of her door, busily attacking the three dead bolts that kept the world out of the inside of her apartment. When they were finally unlatched, she turned the knob, leaned her hip against the apartment door and shoved, urging the sticky door open.

When she first opened the door and saw him, she didn’t believe her eyes. Shane wasn’t supposed to be there. It had to be an illusion brought on by a Shane-filled brain.

But it was him, all right. Shane Walker, standing there in a crisp white shirt knotted at the neck with a tie she’d given him two birthdays ago. He wore a pair of snug jeans that showed off his perfect rear, and when he saw her, he held up a deep red rose. And for just a moment the heat in his eyes matched the fiery red of the petals.

No. She had to be imagining that. And when she blinked and looked again, it was just Shane, his expression decidedly pleased and self-satisfied, but this time there was nothing heated in his eyes.

Was that disappointment she felt? No, it couldn’t possibly be. Curiosity, maybe. Yeah. That’s all. She took a tentative step into the apartment. “What are you doing here?”

“Come on in and see.”

She squinted at him, then moved farther inside, her steps taking her beyond the trifold screen she’d bought off eBay six months ago. Shane had been standing just beside it, so she’d been able to see him, but her tiny table had been blocked by the screen, which formed a makeshift dining room-cum-office in the small apartment.