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

Evan noted that Tate didn’t offer to pull out his phone-pictures for Ariel, probably because he was aware she wouldn’t be at all interested in seeing them.

“That’s nice,” she said vaguely. “Though I never would have pegged you as the marrying type.”

Tate laughed. “It surprised me, too.”

“I’m beginning to wonder if your partner, here, has his eye on someone. He’s got that look.”

Evan raised an eyebrow. “That look?”

She patted his arm, her manicured fingers lingering a bit on his bicep. “Trust me. I’ve seen it before. You look to me like a man who’s off the market.”

H

e told himself not to read much into her words. Ariel would naturally look for any explanation for a man’s lack of response to her come-ons. Still, Tate eyed him appraisingly before saying, “Yeah, I’ve been getting that feeling myself.”

Ariel laughed musically. Apparently it was easy for her to handle a rebuff as long as she had a satisfactory explanation. And since she had always made it clear that she had no interest in tying herself down to any one man, she wouldn’t compete for any guy who was looking for a long-term relationship.

Maybe he should have thought of that excuse before.

“You still have my number if it doesn’t work out with the mystery woman,” she said, flirting good-naturedly before drifting away.

He sighed in relief. “Thanks, Tate.”

“For rescuing you? Not a problem. Not that you needed it. Ariel’s just a compulsive flirt.”

Evan glanced at his watch, wondering if it was too early to make an escape. Had he shaken hands and chatted with everyone he should?

“So, speaking of your mystery woman—how was Renae yesterday?” Tate asked, his tone a little too ingenuous.

Evan eyed him suspiciously. “She’s fine.”

“Hmm.” Tate managed to convey quite a bit with that one syllable. Had he seen something in Evan’s expression earlier?

Evan cleared his throat. “She’s sending out the application packets next week. We’ll all get together again around the middle of April to start looking through them.”

“And when will you and Renae get together again?”

Evan frowned and set his unwanted drink on a nearby tray. “I don’t know.”

He still didn’t exactly understand what had happened last time they’d been together. One minute they’d been standing across the room staring at each other, and the next they’d been tearing off each other’s clothes. He really had planned to talk with her that evening, maybe clear the air of some old hurts and resentments—nothing more. He couldn’t say he was sorry about what had taken place, instead— hell, it had been one of the more spectacular experiences of his adult life—but now he wasn’t sure where they stood.

He hadn’t planned to invite her to join him again next Wednesday. The words had just popped out of him as she was turning to leave. He didn’t know if she would show up or, more likely, if she would talk herself out of it. As if he were somehow following the direction of Evan’s thoughts, Tate nodded somberly.

“It’s complicated,” Evan said.

“I know.”

Because this was neither the time nor place to discuss those complications, Evan turned toward the door. “I think we’ve been seen by everyone. I’m getting out of here.”

“Hang on, I’ll come with you. I told Kim I’d be home for dinner. You’re welcome to join us, if you like.”

Evan declined politely. He had a phone call he needed to make.

* * *

The children were in bed and Lucy was in the kitchen having a long telephone gossipfest with a friend from church when Evan’s name popped up on Renae’s phone that evening. Relieved that she didn’t have to explain the call to anyone, she took it in her bedroom.

“How are you?” he asked.