I fall into him, melting like sun-warmed honey. He cups my chin and angles my face to his in exactly the right way. I slide my hand around the back of his neck, rising up onto my tiptoes to increase the pressure of the kiss.

"You smell amazing." He trails his mouth across my cheek to nuzzle his nose against my hair, his lips seeking my ear. His voice is a husky whisper. "Just want to back you up against the wall, lift your skirt, and spread your pretty legs."

A shiver rocks me to my toes. "God, Dean."

"Every time you say that..." he pulls away with a soft mutter, "...my self-control slips a little more."

"God, Dean."

He laughs. I smile and reach out to tweak his nose.

A Gallic-sounding grunt breaks through my pleasure. Gustave approaches, bearing a tray of eclairs. He puts the tray on top of the cold case and glowers at me, jerking his thumb toward the eclairs.

"Consider it done, monsieur." I hurry to arrange the eclairs in lacy paper cups.

Gustave goes back to the kitchen. As he passes me, I swear I hear him humming "That's Amore" under his breath.

"Okay, I'm going." Dean steals one last, quick kiss before stepping back.

"Can you still come to the cafe this afternoon?"

"I'll be there around one. Just going to stop at the apartment to pick up some things. And we're on for tonight?"

"Of course." I think about my sexy lingerie and wonder which set I should wear for him. Just the thought of his hot gaze raking over my half-naked, lace-clad body has me pressing my thighs together to ease the ache.

"I'll pick you up at six," Dean says.

"Where are we going?"

"McDonald's."

"Big spender."

"Only for you, baby." He winks at me and turns to go.

For a good half hour after he leaves, I can't stop smiling. The orchestra is already striking up a song.

"Well." Kelsey puts her hands on her hips and studies the main dining room of Matilda's Teapot. "With some redecorating, you'll be in great shape."

"We're starting the remodeling next week." I look at the spreadsheets and plans scattered over one of the tables. "It's a huge undertaking."

"Yeah. But Allie's right. You couldn't have a better location, and it sounds like she and Brent know what they're doing." Kelsey turns to pierce me with one of her perceptive looks. "The question is... how do you feel about all this?"

"Mostly excited," I tell her. "I've never done anything like it before, but I know it's a great idea. I love being in business with Allie, and I'm happy that I can finally contribute something of my own."

She's still watching me. "So what's the problem?"

"It's nerve-wracking. What if I just poured my entire inheritance into a new business and it fails? And what if I didn't calculate the costs of working capital correctly and we run out of money?"

Kelsey pushes a chair away from the table and straddles it, resting her arms across the back. "You could find another partner."

"Not one both Allie and I could trust as much as we trust each other. Dean offered to help financially, but he knows I'm trying to do this on my own and he would never ask to be a partner."

"What about me?" Kelsey asks.

"What about you?"

"What if I offered to be a partner?"

I lift my head. "What?"

"I'd be a partner in your business."

"Are you serious?"

"Am I ever not serious?"

"I can't let you do that."

"Why not?"

"It's a bad idea. Mixing business with friendship."

"You've never done it before. How do you know it's a bad idea?"

"Everyone says so."

"I don't listen to everyone."

I can only stare at her. Tears sting my eyes.

"Jesus, Liv," Kelsey mutters. "Don't cry. I'm offering you a partnership, not a kidney."

"Sorry." I grab a napkin and swipe my nose.

"Besides, you're doing this with Allie, and she's a friend, right?" Kelsey asks.

"I know, but you... you're more like..."

"Like what?"

"Well, like family." My heart clenches a little.

We both fall silent. Then Kelsey heaves a sigh.

"Okay, look. I'll say this only once." She digs her fingernail into a crack on the back of the chair. "I've never had a lot of close friends. I don't like it when people start wanting to know shit about me. It's annoying. But Dean's never been like that. Never made me feel like I have to apologize for anything. And when he married you, I thought he'd change, that things would be different. I was all revved up to dislike you."

"You were?" I can't even imagine withstanding the force of Kelsey March's dislike.

"Yeah," she says. "But you made it impossible. The first time I met you was in LA at the farmer's market. After Dean introduced us, you gave me this... this Liv hug and asked me to join you for crepes."

She shakes her head, as if I'd asked her to fly over the rainbow.

"Um... I like crepes," I say.

"Liv, I mean you just accepted everything, you know? Me. You never questioned my friendship with Dean. Never felt threatened by it. Not many people have figured out how to deal with me as fast as you did. Like you didn't miss a beat. And you made your husband better, which is saying something."

She shoves off the chair. "Okay, I'm done. That little speech will self-destruct in five seconds."

I know enough not to respond to any of that, but my heart fills with love and affection for Kelsey and her bad-ass self.

"So, we're finishing up the final numbers," I say, turning to the spreadsheet. "Can I get back to you next week?"

"Yeah. You and Allie figure out if you need me, and I'll see what I can do. Just don't get all mushy about it."

The sound of footsteps comes down the stairs, signaling Allie's approach.

"Liv, I really think that front room should be the witch's castle room," she remarks, "because it has that view of the mountains, and the witch's castle was surrounded by mountains. Hold on, let me grab my portfolio from the car and we can sketch out some ideas."

She hurries out the back door. I gather up all the spreadsheets, and Kelsey shrugs into her jacket just as the bell over the door rings. We turn to see a tall man in his mid-forties enter, shedding his coat and pulling a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. He's dressed with casual elegance in khakis and a button-down shirt.

"Can I help-" I start to say.

The back door bangs open, and Allie bustles in again. "Oh, hey, Dad."

Dad?

Kelsey and I watch in astonishment as Allie and the man exchange a bear hug.

"Thanks for coming," Allie says. "Did you meet Liv?"

"Not yet." The man extends his hand to me and smiles. "Max Lyons. Allie's father."

I shake his hand in disbelief, stunned by the fact that not only is he quite young to have a twenty-seven-year-old daughter, he doesn't look anything like I'd imagined.

From what Allie has told me, her father moved to one of the artsy neighborhoods on the other side of the lake, after Allie's mother died years ago. Allie hadn't wanted to ask him for more money to help with the bookstore or the cafe, and I'd assumed that was because he'd helped her out a lot already and didn't have much money himself. In fact, I'd pictured Max Lyons as a long-haired hippie who wears frayed jeans and smells faintly of pot.

I did not picture a man who looks as if he's just stepped from the pages of GQ.

"And this is Kelsey March," Allie tells her father. "She's a professor at the university."

"In which department?" Max Lyons asks, holding out his hand to Kelsey.

I can't believe it. My majestic friend is standing there as if she's just lost the ability to speak.

"Atmospheric sciences," I pipe up, giving Kelsey a quick poke in the side.

"Uh, yeah." She shakes Max's hand, then takes a step toward the door. "Weather forecasting. Nice meeting you."

"You too."

"I asked Dad if he could stop by and give us his opinion about the building," Allie tells me. "He's an architect."

"Oh." Now things finally fall into place. "Well, that's great."

"Come on." Allie tugs on Max's sleeve. "I'll tell you what we're planning for the upstairs rooms. Liv, could you call Marianne and ask if she can stop by?"

"Sure."

Kelsey and I walk to the front porch as I take out my cell and leave Marianne a quick voicemail.

Dean's car pulls up to the curb. My heart gives a welcome, familiar leap as he approaches, his black peacoat buttoned against the cold. In contrast to his rumpled appearance this morning, he's now wearing a tailored suit with a navy tie knotted at his throat. His thick, dark hair is brushed away from his forehead, emphasizing the masculine planes of his face.

Although I always love the sight of my handsome husband in full, distinguished-professor mode, now my pleasure is shadowed by a twinge of despair.

Dean brushes his lips across my cheek and turns to hug Kelsey.

"How long are you staying?" she asks, pulling her car keys from her pocket.

"Ten days."

"Racquetball tomorrow, then?"

My stomach twists. Dean and Kelsey often work out together at the university gym, but with him not allowed to be on campus now...

"No, I've got stuff to do," he tells her.

Kelsey glances at me, as if she senses something is up. Then she shrugs and goes down the steps to her car. I move closer to Dean, disliking the ever-present knowledge of what he has to contend with.

"When is the meeting?" I ask.

"Wednesday. I'm going into Forest Grove this afternoon to consult with a library board about their medieval manuscript collection."

"What's the Wednesday meeting about?"

"It's a mediation meeting, see if we can come to some resolution so the case won't go to the university board of trustees." Dean gives me a reassuring smile that doesn't ease the concern in his eyes. "Shouldn't be too bad."

He runs his hand over my hair and nods toward the cafe. "So tell me what you've got planned here."

Pulling open the door, he steps aside to let me precede him. He takes his coat off, tossing it over a chair before unbuttoning his suit jacket.

I stop and do a double-take. Beneath his jacket, he's wearing...

"Is that a sweater vest?" I ask in astonishment.

As if he's forgotten, Dean looks down at the navy, buttoned vest he's wearing over a gray shirt. "Yeah."

"Since when do you wear sweater vests?"