"No. Bree took him down to her shop."

"Oh. I wondered when she would-" She bit her lip.

"What?"

"Nothing. Can I come in and wait?"

He hesitated.

"I promise I won't make a pass at you."

"Good, because you make a lousy guy." He stepped aside to allow her in. She surveyed the sitting room briefly before draping herself over the divan. "Not bad. I've never been in this suite." Craig tore open a package of honey-roasted almonds. He needed something to do with his hands. "You've stayed at this inn before? Even though you live close by?"

"Oh..." She extended her hand and he shook out a half dozen nuts into her palm. "I didn't exactly stay here." Craig's chewing slowed. "Oh." She popped an almond into her mouth and crunched. "So, tell me, Craig, how did you and Sloan meet, anyway? Gay bar? Wine shop? A lingerie boutique, perhaps?" Despite the playful delivery of the question, he stiffened. "It was a writer's convention in LA. We hooked up at a screenwriting workshop, and the rest is history." "You two just clicked, is that it? After five minutes you just knew?" There was a bitter edge to her voice that put him on the defensive. "It took a little longer than that. But once we started working together we-" "Do you love him?" Very slowly Craig set down the package of nuts. There was no other question, insult or insinuation that could possibly unsettle him more. "Pardon?" "You heard me. I'm an old friend of his. I care about him, and I'd like to know your intentions. That's what I'm really interested in." He snorted. "Yeah, right! You're about as old-fashioned as a Ferrari." She bobbed her eyebrows. "Maybe. But I do care about him. So...do you?" So, he wasn't off the hook. If he'd been wearing a tie he would have reached up and loosened the knot.

This lie came harder. Or maybe he did love Sloan. But not in the way she meant, and that was still a lie."That's very personal." He cocked his head. "I'll answer it if you will." "Answer what?"

"Do you love him?" Her whole body went rigid. "Of course I do. I've known him forever. He was one of my best friends foryears, and in many ways he still is."

"That's not what I mean," he said, feeling an odd satisfaction with her obvious discomfort. She seemedto take such pleasure in making him squirm, it was about time the tables were turned. "Well then what do you mean?"

"Your brother was here yesterday."

She blanched. "You're kidding."

"No. And it seems that old-fashioned chivalry runs in the family because he was very concerned with

Sloan's intentions as well. He was worried because he was afraid Sloan's appearance would rekindle your infatuation with your old friend. I believe the word 'crush' came up. And there was some mention of your being quite devastated when Sloan and Bree became an item."

"I'll kill him." "He seemed rather large and, I suspect, difficult to kill. Believe me. I thought about it." She glared at him. "So, how did he take the whole gay thing." She waved her arm in the air as if encompassing the entire phenomenon of homosexuality.

"Pretty well, actually, considering he's had about as much exposure to it as he has to classic literature."

He crossed his legs and let his wrist flop weakly. "I think he was more relieved than anything."

She stood and paced to the window. "He's a moron."

"Yes, well, these things do tend to run in families."

She turned around slowly and eyed him like a panther stalking a deer. "You insulted me."

"Yes. I'm rather good at it." He bobbed his eyebrows. "I'm good at a lot of things. Just ask Sloan."

Her expression relaxed. "To answer your question, I thought I did. But now that I've seen him I realize I

was in love with a memory. A fantasy. He never loved me. We were good friends, but nothing more, and I've had to accept that."

He softened at the veil of sadness that had suddenly settled over her eyes.

"It must have hurt to be so close to him, and then for him to pick your best friend over you." "I was young and stupid. He and Bree were made for each other. I just couldn't accept it. And it doesn't help that I'm the type of person who always wants things I can't have. My mom used to tell me I couldn't have a cookie before supper. So I would cry and whine and cajole until I finally got it. Then I'd take two bites and throw the rest away." She chuckled. "That's kind of how I treat the men in my life, too. Maybe it's a good thing Sloan had Bree." Her gaze turned sly. "But I guess I was wrong about them, after all, wasn't I?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, obviously they weren't meant for each other, since you two are."

Craig uncrossed his legs and shifted in his seat, once again uncomfortable with the deception. Here she

was, baring her soul to him, and he was spewing lies like a politician. "Uh...yeah. I guess so."

She sashayed over to him and settled herself down on the love seat beside him. "So how long have you

been gay?"

"All my life. Most gay people are."

She rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean. When did you figure it out? Sloan was almost twenty-six.

How old were you?"

Her proximity and the scent of Opium, which hung around her like a seductive cloud, was making him a

little lightheaded. "I always knew. Uh...right from puberty." She frowned. "So you were never interested in girls." "Never." "Never peeked through any windows or copped a feel in the lunch line?" Was she getting closer? "No. Never. Only boys for me. Yup. That's the-" "You are telling me you have never seen a woman naked?" "Nope. Not even in a magazine." She flopped back against the arm of the sofa. "Well, then how do you know you wouldn't like it? You don't even know what you're missing. I mean, don't knock it 'til you've tried it, sort of thing."

He shrugged, wishing Sloan would get the hell back to the room and rescue him from his unruly libido.

"Most men never try a homosexual encounter and they swear they're not interested. What's thedifference?" "Mmm." She nodded. "I guess you have a point. Still..." He stood and walked to the windows. He glanced down at the street hoping for a glimpse of his rescue team. "You know, I can't imagine what's taking him so long. Was there something you wanted to talk to him about..."

He turned to face her and his jaw went slack.

She had stood up and was calmly untying the string that held her halter top in place.

"Wh-what are you doing?"

She said nothing, and a moment later the strings were dangling to her waist and she had begun to peel the clingy cotton material down like peeling the wrapper off a candy bar.

He stood there, completely panic-stricken and paralyzed, as a pair of beautiful, firm, pale breasts were unveiled for his viewing pleasure.

"Come here," she commanded.

He shook his head.

"If you don't come here I'll walk over there and let the whole town see us."

He stepped a little closer and she met him halfway.

She grabbed his hands. "I feel it my duty to educate you. Gay or not, every man needs to feel a woman's breasts in his hands at least once in his life. And, since I think mine are passable specimens, I think it's reasonable that I be the one to educate you."

His heart was pounding against the base of his throat, and his jeans had just become unbearably tight. "I really don't think-"

But she was already guiding his hands to her chest. "Come on now, don't be shy. Think of it as a...science experiment." She grinned evilly. At least he thought she did since he was having extreme difficulty focusing on her face at the moment.

His fingers were resting lightly just below her collarbone.

"All right, now, you take over," she coaxed. "I won't bite." She let go of his wrists. "Honest."

He didn't believe her, but he was hooked. He was panting like a Pavlovian dog but he couldn't have walked away if she had suddenly mutated into Grandma Moses. So instead, he did the only sane thing any red-blooded, fully heterosexual male could do. He conducted his experiment.

With both hands moving in sync he skimmed his fingers over the smooth creamy skin of her chest. When he reached the swell of her breast he traced the outer curve, marveling at the perfectly fluid lines and fullness. He cupped her lightly and whisked his thumbs over her nipples, pleased to see the response, even as he acknowledged what a bad idea this was. Sloan was going to kill him. But when he pressed a little more firmly, and massaged those soft pillows of flesh beneath his palms, the low groan that vibrated in her throat blasted all coherent thought from his mind.

"You're pretty good at this for a novice," she breathed.

"I'm in the presence of a masterpiece. You inspire me."

"Oh God. You do know how to talk." She arched against him, and the next thing he knew his lips were devouring hers.

Her arms wrapped around his neck and those naked breasts were grinding against his T-shirt. He pulled her in close and mumbled against her mouth, "I thought you weren't going to make a pass at me."

"I lied." She reached for his hand and pressed it against her crotch. "I'm good at it."

"Mmm." He massaged her briefly before slipping his hand inside the denim. She had already undone the zipper. And then his.

She kneaded him through his briefs, and her mouth did sinful things to his, completely distracting him from what his hands were doing. His fingers slipped through the nest of curls and dipped inside her. She was as wet and warm as a hot bath.

"I guess I like girls," he whispered against her throat. God, she smelled good.

She giggled. "Yeah. That's kinda what I figured."

A voice out in the hallway caught his attention. But his thoughts stalled. Something about what she had said...

"Thanks, Bobby," called the voice in the hall. "I guess it fell out of my pocket when I tipped you this morning."

"Sloan!" Craig's hands recoiled.

She just stood there, staring at him as Sloan's key slipped into the lock.

"Christ!" He stepped forward and pulled her halter top up to cover her breasts. "For God's sake, get dressed!"

A sly smile tugged at her lips as she pulled up her zipper. "Why? Afraid he'll be...jealous?" And she laughed again.

"Shit!" He turned around and stepped between Franki and the opening door just as she was tying the halter strings behind her neck.

Sloan stepped inside, and barely glanced at Craig. "Oh, hi. I wasn't sure if you'd be back yet." His voice was dull, his posture listless. "I didn't have my key, but luckily somebody found it out here in the hall, and turned it in-"

"Hi, Sloan." Franki stepped around Craig.

The door clicked shut and Sloan registered her presence. "Oh. Hi, Franki." He looked from her to Craig and back again. His face remained blank. "You two getting to know each other?"

She tossed a sidelong glance at her victim. "You could say that."

Sloan barely seemed to hear her. He walked past them and settled himself gingerly on the divan. He leaned back and draped his arm over his eyes. "Sorry, guys, but I'm whipped."

Franki walked over and kneeled beside him. "Hangover?" she asked.

"Not exactly."

She picked up his free hand and began to massage it. "Does this help? I know you used to love this."

"Mmm."

Craig felt invisible. He looked on in stark fascination as the woman who, not five minutes earlier, had been fondling him, now used those same hands to stroke and pet his best friend. Correction-his lover. His lover?

Oh, shit! The full scope of what had just happened hit him. He'd been had.

"Didn't you say there was something you wanted to talk to Sloan about?" Craig failed miserably at keeping the irritation out of his voice.

Her hands were working their way up Sloan's forearm. "Oh, yeah. I did, but after our nice chat, it completely slipped my mind." Craig stood by helplessly as she found Sloan's biceps. "Man," she whispered. "I don't know how you can turn this down for a set of clumsy, male fingers."

Her hands drifted hypnotically from his arm to- "Sloan!" Craig said it loud enough to wake Sloan from his semi-comatose state. He had to do something because the fingers of Franki's right hand had abandoned Sloan's arm and begun to stray toward his abdomen. But that likely was not their final destination. Sloan sat up abruptly. "Wh-what?" Then he looked down at Franki's beaming face, and groaned. "

Franki! Quit it, already! Not only are you shopping in the wrong market, but the melons just aren't ripetoday." "Huh?" He scrubbed his hands down his face. "It means I've got nothing that you can squeeze. I'm just not in the mood to deal with this today, okay?" She pouted. "But if you were in the mood..." He shook his head. "What if Bree was the one asking?" The words had the texture of a silken razor. He leaned forward and grasped her hands, his expression earnest. "I'm gay, and I'm taken. Bree and I are friends. Please don't take this out on her and make a fool of yourself in the process." She extricated her hands from his and sighed. "Whatever you say, Sloan. I can take a hint. I guess I'll leave you two lovebirds to your own devices." She stopped with her hand on the doorknob, and tossedback, "But you can't blame a girl for trying, no matter how hopeless it may appear." Craig was silently seething and wishing he could follow her out into the hall and... What, exactly, would he do? Throttle her to within an inch of her life? Or throw her to the floor and make love to her right there

on the oriental runner?