CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE.

New York, afternoon . . .

Indiana Jones jammed his snout under a bush along the path in Central Park, and after a few seconds of nose-to-ground recon, Nate tugged on the leash. The dog backed up and continued on the trot-like pace that his little Dachshund legs necessitated as Kat chattered on about something.

It had been three days. Seventy-two entire hours of not talking, not calling, not seeing her, and not touching her. Every single one of those hours was killing him. As if he'd been cruelly excised from her life. Or maybe he'd been the one who'd done the slicing. He didn't know. He couldn't figure out a damn thing. He'd gone for long runs in the heat of the late June mornings, he'd logged endless hours at the office, he'd finalized all the arrangements for the travel to Jack's wedding. Every second he'd been aware of her absence.

She'd texted him twice. Simple, friendly messages. One was a photo of a guy roller-skating in jeggings, and she'd captioned it: Saw this guy on Seventh Avenue. New fashion trend? Then, she'd snapped a shot of a woman in the Times Square subway station who'd painted herself gold and moved robotically for tips. Only, she was snoozing on a bench. Sleeping on the job, Casey had written.

Innocuous messages. Harmless notes. The kind of texts she'd occasionally sent him before they'd started sleeping together. He hadn't received a text like this since they were truly just friends. She had switched gears so efficiently, from the sweet, sexy, romantic, open, vulnerable and utterly passionate woman to his witty, funny, firecracker of a friend. He'd responded to both notes in kind, replying with Who knew jeggings were all the rage? And It must be tiring to move in slow motion.

He scratched his head as Indiana Jones found a new patch of grass to sniff. This was Nate's one moment of relaxation in the last few days-taking his sister's dog for a walk as she pushed her girls in a stroller. Cara had conked out for a late afternoon nap, and Chloe was clapping and shouting doggie at every pooch they passed. Girl after his own canine-loving heart.

"So then Chloe wound up spilling all of it on the floor for Indiana Jones," Kat said with a laugh, then left a pregnant pause.

He raised his chin and stared quizzically at his sister. Shit. She'd just delivered a punch-line to a story and he hadn't a clue what she'd been talking about. "That's funny," he said, trying to recover from his fumble.

She slugged him on the arm, then brought her hands back to the stroller. "You weren't listening."

"I was too listening," he said quickly, reeling off a white lie.

She shook her head at him. "Oh yeah? What did Chloe spill?"

He had no idea. "Milk?" he asked, taking a stab in the dark.

"Busted. It was spaghetti. She thought it was hilarious that the dog was trying to get her food from the high chair."

He held up his hands in surrender. "Fine. You caught me. I was drifting off."

"If I didn't know better, I'd be worried that I'm boring," she said as she wheeled past a pack of teenage boys tossing a Frisbee across the lawn. "But yet, I do know you, and I'm pretty sure I also know what's causing your astronomical levels of distraction."

"What's causing it?"

"Casey," Kat said in a matter-of-fact tone, shooting him a pointed look, one that said I'm right and you know it.

"Yeah?"

She nodded. "You're in that guy state. That moody, irritable guy state that only comes from trouble with a woman. Which tells me you messed up with her."

His eyebrows shot into his hairline. "Not true. Not true in the least, and why would you say that?"

She nudged him with her elbow as they walked around a curve in the path, heading towards the 5th Avenue side of the park. "I made an educated guess."

"Hate to break it to you, but you guessed wrong. I didn't mess up. She decided she only wanted to be friends. So there you go," he said.

Kat shot him a doubtful look. "She just wants to be friends? I have a hard time believing that," she said, bending over the front of the stroller to point out to Chloe a Beagle running alongside his owner.

"And why do you have a hard time with that?"

Kat turned to look him square in the eyes. "Because that girl is in love with you, Nate."

He stopped in his tracks. His feet were stuck to the concrete. All the sound in the park had been zipped up in her words. Her beautiful, hopeful words. "What?" he said, stumbling on the question.

His sister nodded several times, stopping too. "I saw the two of you at Yankee Stadium. And at my house. I've seen the way you look at her, and the way she looks at you."

"How does she look at me?" he asked, and he couldn't deny that his sister's words felt exhilarating.

"The same way you look at her," she said, and it was as if the sun broke free on a rainy day. But then, something didn't add up.

"Why would she say she only wants to be friends then?"

"Oh, gee. I don't know. Is it maybe because you give off the I'm-not-over-my-ex vibe?" Kat asked in a singsong voice.

"That's not true. I'm over her. Completely." He slashed a hand through the air to emphasize his point.

Kat arched an eyebrow. "Are you, Nate?"

He nodded. He was sure of this. Absolutely sure. "Yes," he said confidently. Then he lowered his voice because he didn't like admitting this out loud to anyone but Kat. "Maybe my pride isn't over it. But the rest of me is."

She gripped his arm, squeezing him. "I get it. I understand," she said softly. "Pride sometimes takes even longer to heal than the heart does. But maybe it's time to let that go?"

He shrugged. "Maybe."

"And look, I'm not dismissing what happened to you or the way your marriage ended. I'm simply saying maybe it's time to fully jettison the past."

"It's not that simple."

"Actually, it is that simple," she corrected. "And I know that from experience. Bryan broke my heart when I was younger, though obviously not for the same reasons your marriage ended. His reasons were different, but five years later when we reconnected, I had to make the choice to forgive him. The heavens didn't split open. I didn't wait for a sign. I didn't see an apparition. I made a choice to move into the future. You can do the same."

A choice. It was as simple as putting one foot in front of the other. But could he make that choice? Could he truly choose to shuck off the way he'd lived his life in the last few years? That was the big question.

"So that's it? Just let it go?" he asked skeptically, miming tossing trash into a garbage can.

She nodded. "Yes, especially since if I'm picking up on the ex-vibes, you can bet Casey is too. Maybe that's why she said you should just be friends."

Once more, he nearly froze in place. His sister was turning on the light-bulb in his brain left and right today. "You think Casey assumes I'm not over Joanna?"

"I can't imagine she'd operate under any other assumption, considering how you sometimes act. I know dealing with your ex-wife can hurt, but part of letting go is choosing to let go of all of it. Not just the emotions, which you shed a while ago, but all the residual pain. The anger and the pride too."

Those were his reliable companions. His armor, and his safe harbor too. They'd served him well, and protected him from falling for any woman who might hurt him.

Until now. Those twin emotions hadn't held him back when it came to Casey. They hadn't rescued him from wanting more with her than he'd ever wanted from anyone. But perhaps they had held him back from actually having the guts to go for it.

"You really think she's crazy about me?" Nate asked, returning to a simpler matter.

Kat rolled her eyes, then held up her thumb and index finger to show a sliver of space. "Maybe a little."

He dropped his arm around her shoulders and squeezed. "A little? C'mon. Feed my ego."

"Ha. Never. I will never feed your ego. Besides, I already fed it when I told you she feels the same way you do."

If she felt the same way then he was the luckiest son-of-a-bitch in the world. But now he'd have to figure out the hardest part-how to put his heart on the line. Knowing something in his head, and being able to act on it were two different things.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX.

In the air . . .

There wasn't a chance of a private conversation on the plane. They were nowhere near alone. Sharing the jet with Michelle's brother, Davis, and his wife, as well as Clay and a pregnant Julia, and also Michelle's best friend, Sutton, and her husband left them with no privacy.

Maybe that was for the best, since Nate hadn't figured out yet what to say, how to say it, or even how to deal with the way his heart raced just from looking at Casey. The noise in his head from being near her and all of these people at the same time didn't make the situation any easier. Never had he been so eager for a flight to end. But this was a humdinger of a plane ride-they flew across the Atlantic Ocean, rode over Europe, and then soared above the Middle East en route to the island paradise. The eight of them passed the long hours sleeping on and off under soft blankets, playing Scrabble, watching The Italian Job, and reading.

Somewhere above the Indian Ocean Julia challenged them all to a game of poker.

That might've been the toughest part of the plane ride to get through as they gathered around the table, laughing, telling jokes, and raising the stakes as Julia dealt. During the game, he met Casey's eyes several times-countless times, actually-and she often smiled in those moments. But he couldn't read her. All he knew was that she seemed like the Casey she'd always been-outgoing, upbeat, quick with a joke. She fit in seamlessly. Not that he expected anything else. But he longed for an hour-heck, even thirty minutes would do-to steal her away to the back row of the plane, and talk.

But the rhythms of all the passengers didn't align, so he never found himself with a quiet moment to do anything more than make amiable chit chat.

At least there was that.

When they landed in the city of Male in the late afternoon, they were shuttled onto a speedboat. Casey slid in next to Nate. Her leg was wedged against his, and the slightest touch tripped his heart rate into overdrive, not to mention sent other parts of his body into an upright position.

Damn, he hoped the ride to the hotel was a fast one.

The boat ferried them twenty-five minutes across the sun-kissed, crystal-blue waters of the Indian Ocean as the sun cast its perfect cloudless rays. The motor slowed as they neared The Luxe's property on a secluded, tranquil outpost among the islands, the dust-white sand of the serene beach coming into view.

Once inside the hotel, they found Michelle and Jack waiting in the open-air lobby, looking windswept and relaxed as overhead fans turned lazily, stirring up the faint scent of coconut through the tropical air. Michelle's hair was pinned up on her head and she wore a sundress, while Jack was in shorts.

"Never seen you in shorts before except on a basketball court," Nate said with a laugh as he shook hands with his friend.

"We're thinking of moving here next. The island lifestyle suits me as a man of leisure," Jack joked.

Jack's gaze snapped away from Nate and went to Casey, who had launched herself into his arms. Jack roped his arms around his sister, and hugged her tight. "So good to see you," he said, and Nate turned away, leaving them to their private sibling moment.

He gave Michelle a kiss on the cheek, then was extraordinarily grateful when his property manager pulled him aside and said she wanted to share some good news about the increase in bookings during the last few weeks. He was grateful to sit down with Nicole, and chat business. It helped him clear his head of Casey.

Casey let out the longest breath when she reached her villa.

God, that had been hard. That had been the most difficult plane ride of her life. She laughed out loud, alone in her spacious villa, the sound echoing across the walls, because, a flight on a luxury jet should never feel difficult.

But she'd white-knuckled it through, sucking in all her heartache, and keeping her desire for him locked up where he couldn't see. The speedboat might have been the toughest part. With him so near to her like that, and the wind whipping past them over the aqua water, she could smell him. Delicious, alluring, and all man.

At least they were succeeding on the surface, though, in returning to what they were before-friends. Funny how they'd gone from friends-to-lovers together, and now she was reverse engineering that path all on her own, from lovers back to friends.

The tropical breeze beckoned to her, so she strolled onto the gorgeous hardwood deck that led to a private infinity pool, perched at the edge of the ocean. The sun began to dip overhead, the pink fingertips of the pending sunset tugging it to the horizon. This resort was as far away as possible from the sights, sounds and smells of New York-that city cacophony of sensory overload that fed her drive everyday to do, do, do. But here, the lure of relaxation wafted over her in mere minutes. This resort was the opposite of Manhattan in every way-quiet, tranquil, and incredibly calm. Tilting her face to the sun, she let the rays warm her. Maybe this break from the hustle and bustle of work, maybe the bliss of the island breeze, maybe the palm trees gently swaying would cure her of this heartbreak.

As she drank in the intoxicating beauty-the wide, open sea, the endless sky, the succulent air that kissed her bare skin-she made a wish that someday she would have this with someone.

She turned around, the ebb and flow of the ocean flitting past her ears, and flopped face down on the crisp white sheets of the king-sized bed.

A bed for lovers.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to eradicate him from her tired brain. The last thing she needed was to dream of him, a task that was infinitely harder here in a hotel outfitted not only for romance, but for the private bliss of those in love.

Soon, she succumbed to sleep, jet-lag doing its trick in erasing Nate momentarily from her mind.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN.

The Maldives, morning . . .

She spent the next morning having breakfast with Jack and Michelle and the two sets of Sullivan parents. Casey hadn't seen her mom or her dad in a year, and she didn't have fond memories of the coldness between the two of them back when she was growing up. But at least her parents were happy now, and happily remarried.

Then the women spent the afternoon at the spa, a gift from Michelle to her wedding guests. Afternoon rolled into evening and it was time for the rehearsal dinner, held in the restaurant on the property that overlooked the turquoise waters. Casey showered, dressed and clipped her hair in a twist on top of her head, loose tendrils falling by her face. She zipped up the light-blue Herve Leger dress that she'd purchased at Harrod's. She shoved away the sexy memories of those fevered moments in the dressing room. A dress was a dress was a dress.

She wandered across the property, strolling along the sandy, palm-tree-lined path to the restaurant. She was early, but figured she'd grab a glass of champagne at the bar to smooth over the evening, and take the prickly edge off being near to Nate.

She almost tripped in her peep-toed sandals when she spotted him already holding court at the bar, a stunning brunette by his side. The woman looked shockingly like Joanna. The resemblance chilled her. This dark-haired beauty had the same mane of luxurious hair, the same emerald-green eyes, and that same long and lean body. She wore a black pencil skirt, a silky tank top and black pumps. As for Nate, he was too gorgeous to be believed in slacks and a button-down shirt, open at the neck. No tie tonight. The tropical weather simply wouldn't allow for it.

He held a scotch, clinked his glass with the woman's, and then took a long swallow. Casey winced at the ease of their interaction, and the way he seemed to slide seamlessly from her to the next woman he wanted in his bed. Some kind of vibe was working between those two. She could tell from the way he laughed at something the slinky brunette said, then the way she dropped her hand onto his forearm, ever so briefly, before letting go. A worm of jealousy slithered in Casey's gut, turning into a full-blown snake when the woman danced her fingertips across the bar and leaned forward, her silky sheet of hair dangerously close to Nate's arms, those strong, sexy arms that had held her, pinned her, tied her up.

Oh, hell no. That was not going to fly.

Casey gripped the doorframe, ready to launch an attack. Visions of a fantastic catfight danced in her head. She'd lunge at the woman, grab that black hair, twist it hard, then scratch the woman's neck. Maybe even her gorgeous face. Anything to keep those claws off her Nate. The battle would rage on, and Casey would yank her off the wooden bar stool and tackle her, landing them both in a heap on the floor of the bar, Casey inflicting punishing blows. All this coiled-up tension would be released in a cathartic, mano-a-mano fight between Casey and the woman she hated for no reason other than that she was laughing and flirting with the man Casey was crazy about.