His Best Friend's Wife (Bachelor Best Friends 2)

Evan shook his head. “Tate’s right. We don’t have much longer to get this all ironed out. If you’re available, I think we should go ahead and have our meeting.”

The scholarship, she reminded herself. That was what was truly important here. “Yes, all right. But I’ll bring food next time.”

Evan smiled. “If you’re sure you have time.”

“Later, guys.” Tate dashed for the door, snatching a cookie from the table to take with him. Because he had always been casually demonstrative, he brushed a kiss on Renae’s cheek on the way past her. It startled her a little, but made her smile nonetheless.

The apartment seemed smaller somehow with Tate gone. More intimate. Definitely quieter.

Renae gathered her notes and stuffed them into he

r bag. “I guess that’s all we can do today. I’ll compile that list of state high schools this week so we can start mailing the application forms as soon as we have it printed. We’ll start sending the donation requests out at the same time. With the potential donors we’ve identified, I think we should have a decent response, especially since we’re making it clear that no contribution is too small to be appreciated.”

Evan seemed to have no issues with her summary of their progress. Once again, she was pleased with how much input he and Tate wanted from her, even though the scholarship had been their idea and was initially being funded by their company.

“We should need only a few more meetings to finalize all the details,” he said, “and then we can take a break until we start reading applications in April.”

She told herself it would be a good thing when there was no reason to see Evan every week. She found herself thinking of him entirely too often during her days, and rarely solely in connection with scholarship business.

She insisted on helping him clear the table this time, since they’d finished a bit earlier than the week before. She carried glasses into his galley-style kitchen and placed them in the dishwasher, turning just as he entered with the leftover cookies, so that he unintentionally blocked her exit.

“Sorry,” he said, setting the cookies on the counter.

She moved to pass him, but he didn’t immediately step out of the way, bringing them even closer together.

His gaze held hers when he reached up unexpectedly to brush the ends of her angled bob, his fingertips just brushing her cheek. “Your hair is different,” he murmured. “Shorter and darker.”

Self-conscious, she shrugged. “I stopped bleaching it. And it’s easier to wear it shorter with my busy schedule now.”

“It looks good.”

Uncertain how to take the compliment, she said merely, “Thank you.”

He continued to search her face, as if noting every slight difference. “More than just your hair has changed.”

“That’s hardly surprising,” she answered with forced lightness. “I was just a kid when we met, now I’m a thirty-year-old mother of school-age twins. Of course I’ve changed.”

“You were a pretty girl,” he replied. “You’re a beautiful woman.”

Her eyes closed for just a moment, her cheeks going warm. His simple statement had rocked her to her toes.

“That’s one thing that hasn’t changed about you,” she said, her voice sounding a bit strangled to her own ears. “I still don’t know how to respond to some of the things you say.”

“It was just an observation,” he said, and moved out of her path.

She gathered her things quickly. “I should go. I’ll see you next week.”

“I’ll try not to make you uncomfortable with uninvited accolades.”

Though the words could be interpreted as somewhat defensive, he didn’t seem to be annoyed. She looked at him from beneath her lashes and saw that his mouth was tilted with a very faint smile. Which made her feel a little foolish for overreacting to what he had apparently considered a simple compliment.

What was it about Evan that made her so often feel like such a fool around him?

She moved toward the door. “Next week,” she repeated, vowing she would have herself firmly under control by then.

“Renae?” His voice stopped her just as she reached for the doorknob.

“Yes?” she asked without turning around.