were sympathetic, then their almond shape rounded. "So?"
"So what?" I huffed. Why was I annoyed with Em?
"How did it go? I half expected you to call ... or text. But when you didn't ... well, I guess I assumed ..."
The expression on my face must have warned, because she backed off.
I flopped into a chair in the living room. After munching on an apple while watching Judge Judy reruns, I hopped into the shower. Unable to hear the doorbell which Em answered, I paraded out with a towel slung low around my hips, hair dripping spray-on conditioner down my back, shoulders and chest. I figured I must have glistened like an icicle in a thaw, because Emma's eyes widened. Then her hand flew to her mouth, covering a gasp. Sitting beside her on the sofa, Pete sucked in a long breath, then returned a burst of air to the room in the form of a low wolf whistle.
"You have the body of a goddess, Jewel," he groaned, throwing a forearm across his forehead to fake a faint.
I cupped my breasts. "Eat your heart out."
"Oh, don't think I don't." He lifted a brow.
"Maybe if you'd wear your uniform you'd have a better chance," I teased, then padded into my bedroom to dress. He had a way of lifting my mood. But definitely not in the same way that college Joe did.
Pete Williams was an NYPD rookie. Also a Criminal Justice major, he'd settled on the first job offer after graduation, which was a stepping stone to his career choice: Plain Clothes Detective. In his blues, Pete could knock anyone, anything off his feet, literally. Standing six three, and over two-hundred-twenty pounds of lean muscle, with a Latin look, he was hotter than August pavement at high noon. He was all American, but second generation Sicilian mixed well with Brit and Scot.
Emma and I ran into Pete one afternoon while he was on his corner beat. He tried to nail us for jaywalking, but ended up buying us drinks instead of issuing tickets. From that day on we forged the perfect triangle. Pete's loving soul was hard to resist, blending easily with Emma's compassion, and my lust for life and need to control every aspect of it. Our personalities may have ricocheted now and then, but we never really clashed.
Pete turned to Emma, who was dressed in workout sweats. "You coming with us?"
"Nah." Magazine on lap, she slid to the floor and stretched her hamstrings.
Besides being absolutely adorable, Pete had a definitive nature. Life was broken down categorically – cut and dried – yes or no. He wouldn't take nah for an answer.
"Get off the fence and come with us. Bring someone, Em. We'll make it a foursome."
"Scott's working and there's really no one else ..."
"Are you two an item yet?" Pete was relentless.
Emma pruned her lips. "Scott's an emergency escort. Nothing more."
"Like Pete?" Standing beside the hunk occupying almost half of the sofa, I giggled, tweaked his bristly chin, then fell into his soft brown eyes.
"Not at all." Emma didn't move from her lotus position.
I grabbed Pete's arm and yanked. "Let's go. We're gonna be late."
Emma tore her stare away from Elle long enough to swipe a once-over. "You make the cutest couple." She winked. "Have fun."
We stopped at an Italian restaurant for pasta with marinara sauce, garlic bread and salads. Afterward, we hit up a candy store to bag some goodies to munch on during the show. As we strolled down West 54th, headed for the theater, I must have unconsciously been thinking about college Joe, because I barely absorbed Pete's jabber about work, complaining about the system, his salary, his temporary assignment on the corner of Madison.
"Hey," he said, flinging an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. "So, what do you think, beautiful?"
"About what?"
"About my parents' cabin in Maine?"
Oops. His droning must not have been all about work. "Maybe. Why don't we talk about it later?"
"You can be such a drag sometimes. But I still love you." He planted a kiss atop my head.
Looking up at him, I smiled. I was lucky to