"Not hungry?" I ask.

"Lost my appet.i.te."

Erin It's book club night at the store. Mary and Katie are busy brewing tea in the break room while I man the front door, welcoming our members. The t.i.tle up for discussion is Pride and Prejudice in honor of cla.s.sics month. Eight women are seated around the tables, comparing the Bingley-Darcy relationship with the Jane-Elizabeth relationship.

The door opens, and I glance over my shoulder, surprised to see four newcomers, all polished and perfect in their designer suits and expensive jewelry.

"Welcome to Shakespeare's Quill," I greet. "Can I help you ladies find something?"

"Is this the book club?" one asks.

"Yes." But I'm fairly certain she won't like it. Our members are middle-aged housewives with kids. "How did you find us?"

"Your website events calendar."

"I'm the owner, Erin Covington, and the club president is Janie Baxley."

Janie smiles. "Fresh blood," she says enthusiastically. "Come sit next to me." She pats the empty chair.

"I'm Denise Jones, and this is Karla, Vanessa, and Margaret. Do you mind if we browse the shelves a bit before we sit down?"

"Please." I watch as they disappear down Aisle Two, headed for the romance section.

"Wow," Janie giggles. "Did you see the redhead? I'm pretty sure G.o.d didn't give her that hair color."

"Shhh." I motion for her to quiet down. "We shouldn't gossip, it's impolite."

"Breast implants?"

"Janie."

"Well, fake body parts or not, they're beautiful."

"Yes." On that point I totally agree. And so out of place I'm growing more suspicious by the second.

A few minutes later, all four strut toward the register with armfuls of paperbacks. "We're ready," Denise says.

By the time I finish ringing them up, the total is three hundred dollars. They pay with a credit card and leave. I turn off the neon OPEN sign and lock the door. Katie and Mary arrive with trays of tea and scones. I sit on the sofa, sipping on my Earl Grey, still puzzling over the women.

I'm not catty, I just know what sort of people frequent my store. I have a large children and young adult collection, a fantastic history section, and lots of romance. We're a neighborhood place, where people stop in to share homemade cookies and say h.e.l.lo. Students buy discounted textbooks and often study here. I shrug it off. There's more important issues, like three men to deal with. From zero to trinity in a matter of days. It blows my mind.

And now I'll be forced to choose. Financial security appeals to me, but I'm fortunate enough to be able to support myself. I don't want Foster's money and I don't need Thomas to survive. My parents shouldn't play the stick and carrot game with me. With Katie and Foster at my side on Sunday, I might tell my parents how I feel.

As for Jeffrey, he's the safest bet. No strings, just pleasure. I'm starting to appreciate the Lazarus philosophy.

Katie plops down on the sofa. "What's up?"

I'm silent for a moment, wondering what my best friend thinks of my situation. "Chaos."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"I'm trying to remember the last time we had a serious conversation, Katie."

She tucks a stray hair behind my ear. "Welcome to a world where you're in the middle of something you don't know anything about."

"What kind of advice is that?"

"The best kind. Sometimes you have to let fate win. You're so focused on maintaining control, you forget how fun it is to let go."

"Lazarus kind of disproves that theory."

"Not really." She shakes her head. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but you're attempting to micromanage that, too."

Maybe.

"The point of accepting that invitation was to get laid. The only thing getting f.u.c.ked around here is your head."

"Katie!"

"Don't Katie me. I love you, but the truth hurts sometimes."

"I'm afraid."

"That's a start," she says. "Know that real estate show we watch all the time?"

Why is she referencing TV when my personal life is falling apart? "House Hunters?"

"Yup. At the end of each episode, the couple is forced to choose one of three properties. What's the first step?"

"Eliminating one."

Our eyes meet. "Two. Now that's a workable number."

Chapter 16.

Erin With a little begging, Foster convinced me to let him drive me to my parents' house for dinner. He'll be here soon. Katie is meeting us there. I stare in the mirror, then run a comb through my hair, determined to look my best. It's not every day I send Thomas packing and reclaim my life.

After lunch with Foster again and another long talk with my best friend, I know what I have to do. Mom and Dad will ask lots of questions, and they'll get angry at my answers. Come Monday, my father will consult with his team of high-powered attorneys and have me removed as his legal heir. Mom will obediently agree with whatever financial decisions he makes. With one stroke of a pen, I'll be reduced to an indistinguishable member of the Covington clan, like a distant cousin.

No inheritance doesn't mean they don't love me. Right? Maybe if I have children, they'll designate my eldest as the heir apparent.

My cell vibrates and I grab it off the vanity. I don't recognize the number, but answer anyway. "h.e.l.lo?"

"Erin?"

That gravelly voice is unforgettable. "Jeffrey?"

"I'm delighted you remembered."

"How could I forget?"

He chuckles. "Are you free for drinks tonight?"

Is he asking me on a date? "No, I have plans."

"Cancel."

"I can't, family commitment."

"Ah, the drudgery of familial get-togethers. Call me after you get home, I'm usually up late."

"I will." I disconnect and let out a frustrated laugh.

I didn't know socializing outside club events was encouraged. I did read the handbook, but don't recall anything regarding the subject. Drinks are innocent enough, and seeing him in the real world might help move things forward. Does he act and dress the same way in public? Smell the same? Kiss the same?

"Easy." My hormones are on high alert. Whenever I think about s.e.x now, it has two similar faces-Foster and Jeffrey.

I walk to my bedroom, eyeing the cherry wood poster bed, wishing I could crawl underneath the thick comforter and hide from the world. But that's not how things work. Own this. I rifle through my closet and choose a burgundy, silk jersey wrap dress and black heels. I slip them on and return to the bathroom and admire myself in the mirror. I'm blessed with long legs, and this outfit will get Foster's attention.

What started as friendship has taken on a rhythm of its own, a cat and mouse game. The roles switch depending on my mood. Tonight I'm the prowling feline, and Foster better watch out.

At quarterto-six my doorbell rings and I answer. Foster is wearing a green pullover and slacks, holding a bouquet of red roses.

"Erin." He opens the screen door and steps inside. "You look gorgeous."

"Thank you." Tension racks my body whenever he stares at me like I'm the only woman on the planet. But my smile is genuine. He makes me happy. "Taking the fresh flowers every day a little too seriously?"

"Should I give them to someone else?" He hides them behind his back.

"No!" I attempt to s.n.a.t.c.h them, but he spins around, blocking me.

"Wrestling match?"

"Dressed like this?" I thrust my hand on my hip. "You'd have me at a serious disadvantage."

"I like that idea." He grins and offers the flowers again. "Replay?"

"Thank you, Foster. They're lovely, let me get a vase."

"Much better." He follows me into the kitchen. "What smells so good?" He sniffs the air, exploring my countertops.

"Banana nut bread."

"Homemade?"

"Yes. Do you want some?"

He pats his stomach. "Can't resist fresh-baked goods."

I rinse my hands, grab a knife from the cutlery drawer, then slice him a generous piece off the loaf cooling near the window. "You're lucky. This was destined for the freezer."

He takes a bite and closes his eyes. "Oh. My. G.o.d."

"What?"

"Tastes like s.h.i.t." He shoots me a mischievous grin. "But I'll brave another piece, with b.u.t.ter this time."

"Oh really?" I'm still holding the knife. "After you insulted me?"

He edges closer, plucking the knife out of my hand. "Not sure I should trust you with sharp implements when you're feisty."

G.o.d he has a way of distracting me too easily. That beautiful face, his enviable body, his overwhelming presence.

"Erin? Mind wandering again?"

I break out of my trance, clearly unable to concentrate. Halloween can't get here soon enough. "Ready to go?" Maybe if we get in the car and drive, I'll stay focused.

"Not yet," he whispers in my ear. "Let me taste you."

Resistance is impossible as he hugs me close, my cheek resting on his chest. I breathe him in, and his spicy cologne goes straight to my head like too much champagne. Then he raises my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze.

"This isn't easy."

"W-What?"

"Keeping my hands off you." He brings his lips to my neck, nibbling and kissing until I sigh. "Let's skip dinner."

"Rules," I remind him.

He exhales, obviously frustrated. "Maybe you need to rethink everything. Are these rules for me or you?"

I don't know what to think or how to feel.

He back steps, holding my hands. "What are you thinking about?"

Should I risk telling him the truth? Will he misinterpret my insecurities as weakness? "I don't want to end up like the girls I've seen you with in the papers."

He blinks rapidly, then shakes his head. "You've followed me in the papers?"

"Yes."

"If you were curious, why didn't you pick up a phone or connect with me on LinkedIn or Facebook?" He sounds so disappointed. "Ignore half the bulls.h.i.t you read or hear."