"To what do I owe this pleasure?" Kaylie joked.

"Do you have a dress for the party this weekend? Because I don't." She listened to Kaylie squeal with excitement on the other end of the phone line. "I'm thinking that I need something that's more like the new me, less..."

"Frigid?" Kaylie offered.

"I wouldn't go that far, but something like that. Meet me in the Village?"

"I only have an hour. I'm singing tonight at the Mantra." The Mantra was the restaurant that kept Kaylie's bills paid. Danica had seen her sing only three times. Watching the old men eye her younger sister always turned her stomach.

"Great, I'll take it. Meet me at the center lot."

They looked through racks of eclectic dresses and skirts. Kaylie, looking twenty-two in her UGGs and tight jeans, and Danica feeling thirty-nine, instead of twenty-nine, in her professional work attire. Why did she do this to herself? She'd have to find a heavy, unattractive friend to go out with so she felt better about herself. Oh G.o.d. Now I sound like one of my clients.

"Dr. Snow!"

Danica spun around at the sound of Belinda Trenton's voice.

"Weird seeing you here, outside of your office," Belinda gushed. "Shopping?" She eyed Kaylie.

"I'm working on her wardrobe," Kaylie said.

It wasn't often that Danica's clients came in contact with her outside of her office, but this was the second client who had come across Kaylie in as many weeks, and Danica felt it like a noose tightening around her neck. She'd never realized Allure was such a small town. She preferred to keep clients and family separate. "Just checking out a few things." Danica smiled in a tight-lipped fashion, hoping she portrayed a professional courtesy instead of a friendship.

"What do you think of this?" Belinda asked, waving to her own clothing.

How had Danica missed her black flats and flare-bottom jeans. They were a big improvement over the painted-on skinny jeans and heels. "That look suits you well," Danica said, beaming with a modic.u.m of pride. Maybe she was helping after all.

"See, I listen to the things you say."

Belinda examined Kaylie up and down with a look of jealousy-didn't they all? "Love your outfit," she said.

Kaylie smiled in the uncomfortable way that said, There must be a reason you're seeing my sister, so I don't want to a.s.sociate with you.

"Well, I'll leave you two to have fun. See you next week!"

Belinda left the store, and Danica breathed freely again.

Kaylie touched her arm and whispered, "Now that the crazy girl is gone, how about this?" She held up a brown, suede, thigh-length dress complete with fringe at the bottom.

"Don't call her that, and what am I? An Indian princess?" Danica watched Kaylie shove the dress back on the rack and began going through the clothes with a scrutinizing eye.

"Sor-ry. I'm just trying to spice things up a bit."

Maybe this was a mistake. "How's Chaz?"

"He treats me like a queen. He calls, he e-mails. He sends flowers."

She recognized Kaylie's bored tone. "Sounds perfect."

Kaylie sighed. "I guess, if you like that stuff." She pulled a simple, black dress from the rack. It crossed in the front and tied at the hip-a good look for Danica. The trim was done in a gold, sparkly threading, adding just a touch of something interesting.

"Me? I'd love that stuff. It sounds like he really likes you." Danica took the dress from her sister's hand and headed for the dressing room with Kaylie on her heels.

"He does."

"But?" Danica slipped into the dressing room while Kaylie waited outside the curtain.

"I don't know. I really like him, but everything is too easy. I feel like things will just fall apart and I won't know they're going to."

Danica peeked out of the curtain. "You're afraid of being Mom. You think that just because Dad blindsided Mom with an affair, Chaz will do that to you?" She closed the curtain.

"Maybe. I don't know."

Behind the curtain, Danica slipped the dress on and tied it at her waist. She looked fantastic, and she wondered if she'd lost weight. She never paid enough attention to know if she went up or down a few pounds until things settled like an old house and she needed new clothes. "Well, you're not Mom, and easy is good, Kaylie."

She came through the curtain and Kaylie gasped. "Dan, oh my G.o.d. You look so beautiful!"

Danica spun around, feeling young and pretty. She wanted to flounce around the room and enjoy the feeling. "Do you think so?"

"I know so." Kaylie hugged Danica. "Whatever has come over you lately, it suits you well."

Danica felt her cheeks flush. "Kaylie, listen, whatever happened between Mom and Dad was their own s.h.i.t. You aren't Mom; Chaz isn't Dad. Just allow yourself to be happy for once. Don't sabotage it." She disappeared behind the curtain again, admiring herself in the mirror before slipping back into her own clothes.

As she paid for the dress, Kaylie leaned on the counter, her chin resting on her palm.

"What?" Danica asked.

"How does it feel to be you?" She stood. "I mean, you've got your s.h.i.t together. You know what to do in a relationship-even if you don't have one-and you're not afraid of anything." She sighed. "It must be...nice."

"If only you knew, Kaylie." She wanted to admit her insecurities to Kaylie, but it felt too good to be looked up to. She smiled, put her arm around her sister, and they headed for their cars.

The next few days flew by with a flurry of client meetings, leaving Danica in a state of emotional fatigue by nine o'clock each night. She'd made the time to call Nancy's counselor, who confirmed that not only was she doing well, but that she'd been a stellar client while at rehab. Dr. Paltron had said she thought that the weekly urine tests were overkill. Nancy was among the few adults who she had high hopes for. She was not a typical rehab patient. According to Dr. Paltron, Nancy had been on a drinking binge one afternoon and Mich.e.l.le found her. Mich.e.l.le's father had just died, and she and Mich.e.l.le got into a fight. Nola got involved, and Nancy committed herself to rehab. Dr. Paltron admitted that she thought it was almost an overreaction for Nancy to have been in rehab, but she understood the concern on Nancy's part, given her father's substance-abuse history; she left Danica feeling far more confident than before she'd made the phone call. She'd been under the impression that Nancy had been a drinker for months. The way Mich.e.l.le told the story, Nancy was always drinking. Danica was beginning to see even more clearly how a teen's perspective could skew a situation even when they weren't doing so on purpose. And she felt bad for Mich.e.l.le, whose own hurt over the situation had probably caused her to embellish her mother's situation.

The night of Jeffrey and Camille's party arrived with an unusual warmth to the normally frigid nighttime air. Danica was not looking forward to the evening. She'd much rather be curled up in her favorite sweatpants in front of the television, or deep into the story of a good book, than be worrying about how Kaylie and Blake might react when they saw each other again-but she'd never let down Camille like that.

She arrived in her new black dress and a pair of her comfortable Nine West heels. She wasn't about to twist her ankle again and make a fool out of herself. She walked into the restaurant, and as she neared the private back room, b.u.t.terflies let loose in her stomach. She peered into the room, looking, she realized, for Blake.

A large hand embraced her shoulder. A whisper landed in her ear. "Spying or going in?"

Her pulse raced. Blake. The ridiculous desire to turn and kiss him crossed her mind. She pushed it away and took a deep breath. "Going in," she said without turning back to look at him. She took a step forward, secretly hoping his hand wouldn't drop from her shoulder. It did. She feigned a smile and crossed the well-appointed dining room to where the other bridesmaids had gathered.

"Danica!" Camille squealed. The other girls gave her a group hug and someone handed her a Manhattan. "Tonight we're pretending we're in New York, so Manhattans all night long."

Who was she to deny their fun? She took a sip, relishing in the sweet taste of vermouth and cherry. She reminded herself to go easy and watched Blake out of the corner of her eye. He stood with Jeffrey and the other groomsmen, laughing, with his head tossed back and looking delicious in his gray slacks and black sweater. He looked over just as she realized she was staring. He lifted his gla.s.s in her direction. d.a.m.n. She turned away and gulped down her drink, motioning to the bartender for another.

Danica scanned the room for Kaylie, who was mysteriously missing. "Have you seen my sister?" she asked Marie.

"I know she's coming. She called me earlier." Marie looked around. "She's probably out with Chaz. I swear that man is so in love with her."

"That means he won't be around for long," Camille mused.

"Yeah." Marie drew her eyebrows together. "What's up with that?"

"You know Kaylie. She just likes to have fun." Danica didn't want to go into any family drama with Marie-or anyone else for that matter.

"Well, I think she likes him just as much. I mean, she's always with him."

"She is?" Why didn't I know that?

"She's always at his apartment, or he's at hers. If I didn't know Kaylie so well, I'd almost think she's smitten with him."

Danica wondered what all of Kaylie's earlier drama had really been about. Could her sister just want her attention, or was she really worried that she'd be like their mother?

"Mr. Hottie is heading for you. I'll disappear." Marie winked.

The room grew smaller as Blake approached. Get it together. He's a client.

"You look ravishing," he said, then added, "I mean that in the most professional way, of course."

Why do you have to be so cute? "Of course. Thank you." She felt herself blush and silently cursed. Danica watched the waiters bringing salads to the enormous round table set up in the middle of the room. The others were already claiming their chairs, and Danica's heart raced as she realized that there were only three open seats, two beside each other and one between Marie and Stephanie. "We should sit," she said, feeling uneasy beside him.

He placed his hand-his warm, sensuous palm-against her lower back and led her to one of the two seats that were side by side. The heat of his palm drew all of her attention. She recognized a possessive move when she saw, or rather, felt it, but she was too drawn in to move away. He pulled out a chair for her and she sat, trying to ignore Marie's eager smile of approval.

Danica found her voice and pushed it past the nerves that tickled her throat. "Has anyone heard from Kaylie?" She didn't dare look at Blake. She felt the heat of him sitting next to her, and that was difficult enough. She didn't need to fall into his gorgeous eyes or smell the alcohol on his breath. Why was that smell so seductive, anyway?

"She texted. She'll be here soon," Camille answered.

Danica listened to the men talk about "the old ball and chain" and the women talk about dresses, flowers, and the impending honeymoon. She couldn't help but notice that Blake was silent beside her. She stole a glance in his direction and noticed the tight lines around his eyes and the clenching muscles in the side of his jaw. She fought the urge to touch his cheek and tell him everything would be okay.

He turned to her and feigned a smile. Whether it was her therapist brain or her womanly empathy, she couldn't be sure, but she asked in a whisper, "Are you all right?"

Blake nodded and set his napkin on the table. "It's Dave and that woman. I'm just having a hard time with it all."

Danica leaned in closer to him. "See, you are a good friend. If you weren't, you wouldn't give it a thought."

"I met her the other day at the cemetery when I was...I don't even know what I was doing there." Blake looked at her with pain in his eyes. He leaned in closer, until his mouth was beside her ear. His breath was hot on her neck, sending goose b.u.mps down her chest. "They had a child together seventeen years ago, and she said they weren't having an affair, but he was getting to know his kid."

Danica tried her hardest to concentrate on the words he spoke, but the feel of his breath was too distracting. She felt a pull down low in her belly, and she felt her hand reaching for his leg as he leaned toward her. She pulled her hand back and leaned away from him. What the h.e.l.l am I doing? She didn't think about what she must look like until she heard Blake's next question.

"I'm sorry. Should I not have said that here?"

s.h.i.t. "What? No, that's fine." Said what? she wondered. d.a.m.n it, Danica. Pull yourself together.

"We can talk another time. I'm sorry," he said, and turned back toward the table.

"I'm so sorry I'm late!" Kaylie's enthusiasm sent renewed energy around the room.

Thank G.o.d.

"We went for a drive this afternoon and got held up." Kaylie leaned down and kissed Camille's cheek. "I'm so sorry, Camille. You know I would never be late on purpose."

Danica watched Blake for signs of attraction toward Kaylie, but his eyes were heavy as he focused on his plate. She'd made him feel like he'd done something wrong again. What was wrong with her? She couldn't deal with that right then. She had to get through the evening and get the h.e.l.l out of there. It was obvious to her that she could deal with Blake only in the office, not outside of it. "I'm sorry," she whispered to Blake. "We can talk about this Monday." She turned her attention to the discussion Kaylie and Camille were having about the wedding. Kaylie was asking if it would be all right if she brought a date.

"A date?" Camille asked. "But when we made the invitations, you said you would never bring a date-"

"Because it was too limiting," Marie, Stephanie, and Laurie all chimed in together.

"Yeah, well." She looked up at Danica. "Things change, I guess. Would it be okay?"

"Of course, Kaylie. What's one more person?" Camille squeezed Kaylie's hand.

Danica didn't have the mental ability to weed through her sister's ever-changing feelings about the men in her life any more than she was able to deal with sitting next to Blake with his knee less than an inch from hers, his cologne wafting into her s.p.a.ce like a hook reeling her in, and those lonely, confused eyes calling out to the therapist in her. Her head swooned with lascivious thoughts, and her desire was out of control, like she might lean over and kiss him at any moment. She didn't trust herself.

She looked down and focused on the meal before her. She could pick up a fork and find her mouth. She could pick up a drink and suck it down. Baby steps, she told herself. Danica focused on the clanking of forks to plates, the discussions about the toast of the best man, and she tried her hardest to pay attention to the bits and pieces of Kaylie's conversation with Marie, but her head was full of conflict and her heart was full of l.u.s.t for Blake.

Finally, the meal ended and she saw an escape. Danica stood from the table. "I have an early day tomorrow, so I'm afraid I'm going to bow out early tonight." She managed her most sincere smile. "Camille, Jeffrey, thank you. I'm really excited about your wedding. It's going to be amazing."

She hurried from the restaurant and into the safety of her car. Danica banged her head on the steering wheel and let her head rest there while she asked herself why she was acting like such an idiot.

A knock on the window startled her.

Blake was peering through the window. She took a deep breath and rolled it down. The cold air whipped through the car. "Mr. Carter," she said in her most professional voice.

"Danica, can we talk?"

"Sure, Monday." She looked straight ahead, not at Blake.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring your work into this and ruin your night. I just needed to talk." Honesty and worry laced his every word.

"It's all right. It's not that."

"It wasn't? What did I do? What did I say?"

She stole a look at him, and if she could feel a heart tear into shreds, hers was doing it right then. His face was stricken with confusion. Danica opened the door and stepped from the car. She didn't know if it was a good idea or not, but it was as if her legs had a mind of their own, and they were headed toward the side of the restaurant. He followed beside her.

Stars illuminated the clear sky like hundreds of tiny beacons of light. They walked along the side of the building to an outside dining area that was used only in the summer and offered a spectacular view of the snowy mountaintops.

"Blake, I'm not sure we should-"

He stepped in front of her, cutting off her words, and looked down at her with an intense gaze. "Please, don't push me away. You've done more for me in the past few weeks than anyone has done for me ever. In my whole life."

The thin, gray line she desperately wanted to cross held more than just right or wrong. Her career hung in the balance. Danica felt her body being drawn closer to him. G.o.d help me. The heat that emanated between them had a pulse of its own. She knew in that moment that she was done being his therapist-maybe even being a therapist altogether.

He put his hands on her arms, and she tried again to disconnect from the warmth beneath them.

"I don't mean to keep s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g things up. I know there's a client-therapist relationship, and I don't mean to cross any lines."

She looked down at his hands on her arms, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s moving up and down with each heavy breath. Her voice failed her. Had she misinterpreted his actions?