Page 56 of 4 Weddings and a Feud

He let out the breath trapped in his chest. She sounded fine.

“I think you’re unclear on the concept of a spa day,” he snapped. “A spadayinvolves spending the full day relaxing. If you didn’t like the treatments, you could have gone to the sauna. Or the pool.”

“I know. And I had a lovely massage. But while I was lying there wrapped in plastic, I couldn’t stop thinking about work, and it wasn’t relaxing, and I was wasting your employee’s time, so I left.”

“You weren’t wasting my employee’s time. They’re paid to work.”

“I know, I know. And I’m sorry. Though, really, I’m not sure what I’m sorry about. I didn’t ask for a spa day. You offered it. And I spent as much time there as I wanted to.” Fire crackled in her voice.

Deliberately, he rolled his shoulders. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have tried to make you feel bad about it. I was—” He cleared his throat. “Concerned.”

“Concerned about the Richardson wedding?”

“No, darling. I’m concerned about you. That you had an emergency of some type. That the masseuse pinched a nerve in your beautiful neck. That fucking Michael let a car fall on him.”

She laughed, a long, merry tinkle, like wind chimes that danced across his skin. “I had so many lists working in my brain I had to write them down or I’d lose it. I’m sure you know how work can grab you and not let you go.”

He understood that well. Work sustained him and challenged him at the same time. It allowed him to achieve success and security for himself and for the people he loved. His gaze fell on the photo of his mother. Then on the photo of Mary next to it.

Fuck.

Did he love Mary, too?

Was that why her photo sat next to the only other person he loved?

His knees wobbled, and he collapsed into his chair. He couldn’t, could he?

They’d been friends for so long, and now the sex had produced a flood of confusing endorphins. It was all chemistry.

They hadn’t had sex in almost a week. Yet something in him thrilled whenever he heard her voice.

Fuck.

“Alex? Are you still there?”

“Yes, yes, I’m here. I’m glad you’re all right.” He was holding his phone, so he couldn’t do it properly, but he pressed his fist into the surface of his desk until he felt a comforting pop.

“The massage was lovely. Maybe you can come over after work, and I can thank you properly?”

“I like the sound of that. Though you should come to my place instead.” He needed the fortification of his own turf. If he went to Mary’s cozy little house, he might be lulled into saying something foolish.

“Ooh,” she teased. “I finally get to visit your fortress of solitude.”

“It’s not like that,” he muttered.

“Isn’t it?”

“Remember, I invited you before. I’ll leave a card at the front desk. Again.”

“I’ll see you at eight,” she said.

“Come for dinner. At seven.”

“I’ll bring dessert.”

He lowered his voice. “That had better mean racy lingerie.”

She lowered hers, too. “I don’t know about racy. I’ll try to wear something I bought at the mall and not the clearance rack at Target.”

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