Emergency Engagement (Love Emergency 1)

Sinclair stood in the doorway between the bedroom and the bathroom, her toothbrush loaded up with toothpaste, and pointed it at Savannah. “So, what’s the status with you and Beau?”

Savannah paused in the act of rummaging through her tall dresser for something to sleep in. “You know the status. We’re neighbors, childhood friends, and I’m helping convince his parents they don’t need to worry about him.”

Sinclair rolled her eyes and retreated into the bathroom to rinse. From the sink, she called, “You’ve omitted key details from your report.”

Savannah found an old Bulldogs T-shirt she’d scored from a boyfriend in college, yanked off her tank tops, shrugged out of her bra, and pulled on the weathered red cotton. “Such as?”

Her sister poked her head out the bathroom door. “Such as I practically burst into flames every time he looks at you—and he looks at you constantly. It’s a miracle I’m not bruised from wandering into the middle of all the eye-banging.”

Thank God Sinclair disappeared into the bathroom again, because Savannah felt heat seep into her cheeks. She wiggled out of her jeans and stepped into a pair of gray cut-off sweatpants. “You have an overactive imagination.”

“Oh, please.” Sinclair swept into the room, wearing black flannel sleep pants with grinning white skulls on them and a black camisole. “The sexual tension between you two might as well have been a fourth person in the room. A really horny fourth person.”

“We’re pretending to be engaged…”

“Not to me, you’re not, so don’t try to tell me it’s an act. Anyway, for the sake of the charade, you need to find a way to release some of the tension.”

“What? Why?” She got into bed. “An engaged couple ought to throw off a little heat, don’t you think?”

Sinclair dug her hairbrush out of her overnight bag. “Heat yes, but not nonstop sparks of hungry anticipation—”

“Maybe we’re holding out until our wedding night?”

“Um…no. Sorry.” She ran the brush through her hair. “Nobody’s going to believe that.”

“Well, jeez, thanks a lot.”

“Come on, Savannah. You’re both pushing thirty…”

“I’m twenty-seven!”

“Exactly. And you’ve been in several serious relationships. Beau’s been married. It’s too late for either of you to take a virginity pledge.”

“So what are you suggesting? I march over there, knock on his door, and say, Hey, we need to have sex because right now it’s painfully obvious we haven’t, and our families are going to know something’s not right?”

“You’re attracted to him, aren’t you?”

“Sinclair, believe it or not, I don’t have sex with every guy I’m attracted to.”

“But this is a unique situation.”

“It’s also a temporary one. This ‘engagement’”—she made air quotes—“ends in January, and we agreed not to complicate things. Why risk the messy emotional fallout?”

“You talk like having sex automatically leads to complications. I beg to differ. Sometimes it’s just about attraction, affection, and fun. Neither party expects more, and everybody walks away happy.” She shrugged. “Two people enjoying one of life’s little perks. Safely and responsibly, of course.”

Sinclair spoke from experience. As far as Savannah could tell, her sister focused exclusively on attraction, affection, and fun. She had her own theories about why her little sister avoided anything more, but now wasn’t the time to delve into them unless she wanted to drag them both through some extremely messy emotions.

But maybe, in this case, Sinclair had a point. “Enjoy a little perk, huh?”

A knock from the other side of the wall made her jump.

Sinclair stepped back from the bed. “What the hell was that?”

“Beau,” she mouthed, and then pointed at the wall behind her and whispered, “His bedroom is on the other

side.”

Her sister looked at the wall. “Do you think he heard us?”