a brief moment, I hated him. “Great,” I said. “So you go first.”
“All right. No sleepovers. Also no sharing of toothbrushes. Those two sort of go hand in hand.”
I frowned. They fell into my “companionship” category, but I had been getting by without that sort of thing for a while now and I figured I could keep on doing it. “Okay.” But then my curiosity got the better of me. “Why not?”
“It’s just part of keeping it uncomplicated,” he said. “It will be neater if we just keep all that cuddly stuff out of it. You know, that’s always where I get into trouble.”
“With cuddly stuff?”
“Yeah. That’s the point of this, right? We’re friends. We don’t have to cuddle. We don’t hold hands. We’re talking sex and companionship here. Period.”
He didn’t seem awkward with it today. He really had it down. “My turn,” I said, and I latched on to the rule I’d mentioned earlier—in part because for a moment I couldn’t remember any of the others. “None of those endearments of yours. Absolutely no…you know…darlings and dolls and snookums and babycakes.”
“Honestly, Mandy, you’re not the babycakes type.”
I wasn’t sure if I was insulted or pleased. I decided not to try to figure it out.
“No complaining or handing out guilt trips,” he said, ticking off another rule on the fingers of his free hand, the one that wasn’t holding his briefcase.
Now I was insulted. “When have I ever done that sort of thing?”
“You haven’t. Yet. But that was when we were just…you know, us. Now we’re getting into uncharted territory so I’m just putting it out there. If I decide I want to stay in some night and read, there can’t be any whining and making me feel bad about it. Also, it works both ways. You get to go to the gym like you’re always doing without me busting your chops because I wanted to see you.”
My head was spinning. But he was right. It made a certain amount of sense, I supposed. He wanted to take a break from the whining and the guilt trips. That was the whole purpose behind this thing. That, and getting him out of my system.
“Your turn again,” Sam said.
I dredged through my memory. “I, um, don’t have to run around picking up the apartment just because you’re coming over.” It sounded as lame now as it had last night.
“You never do that,” he pointed out. “Your living room is a Barbie metropolis.”
“Uncharted territory,” I reminded him.
He frowned. “Okay. No picking up.”
“And Chloe comes first. She’s my top priority.”
“Of course she is. And, anyway, that’s part of my rule. No whining or guilt trips if you prefer to spend time with her.”
I nodded. So far, this was very…civilized, I thought. “What else?”
“It’s not necessary for us to touch base every day.”
“Sam, we’ve been touching base every day for the entire six months I’ve known you.” For some reason, this was starting to bother me.
“But things are different now, so if it should ever happen that we don’t touch base for some reason, there won’t be a major conflagration.”
“No conflagrations,” I repeated.
“And nobody’s going to go falling in love,” he said. “That’s the big one. I don’t need to be going there again.”
I finally laughed at that. It came up from my belly. “I think you’re safe, Sam. I’ve already seen you at your most impressive and it hasn’t overwhelmed me. I’ve also seen you at your worst. Wearing pink, for instance. Or remember when you broke your finger putting in my air conditioner? You howled more than a woman giving birth.”
“The hell I did.” He scowled. “Anyway, this brings us back to throwing drinks and timing devices like Frank Ethan’s watch.”
“Exactly where we came in,” I agreed.
“Right.” He opened the courthouse door for me.
I stepped inside, but then I turned back to gape at him. “You never open doors for me.”
“That was before, when you were one of the guys. Now you’re my girl.”
“I’m—” I broke off. Somehow, it seemed diametrically opposed to everything we had just discussed.
“Figuratively speaking,” Sam explained.
“Oh. Of course.”
I knew then that I had to get a grip. This wasn’t going to work if the world kept tilting on its axis with everything he said. I was supposed to feel clinical and practical about this, not light-headed and weak-kneed and on the constant verge of passing out.
“They’re meeting for lunch right about now,” Sam said, looking at his watch. “Or at least they are if she agreed to see him.”
“Who?” I asked dazedly.
“Lisa and Lyle Woodsen.”
“Where?” And what the hell difference did that make?
“The same restaurant where they had their first date. So where’s ours going to be?”
I grabbed my wits about me halfway across the lobby. “I have show tickets for Atlantic City this weekend.” No, I thought immediately, that wouldn’t work. It would be better to take Grace or Jenny along, because that sort of occasion would almost necessitate an overnight. Would one of us sleep on the floor? Would we take two separate rooms? How would that fit into our rules?
“I was thinking more along the lines of tonight,” Sam said while I was picking at the problem.
Tonight? That was…soon.
I looked at him. He grinned that crooked, bad-boy grin, and I knew—suddenly I just knew—that he realized how flustered I was by all this. And he liked it. I decided I was damned if I was going to let him keep yanking my chain.
That was the only reason I did what I did next in full view of a lobby bustling with lawyers, litigants and various law enforcement personnel. Okay, maybe Mill had a little to do with it, too. I knew it would get back to him. I caught Sam’s tie with my left hand and gave it a tug until he stepped closer to me.
“Hey,” he said, startled.
I kissed him hard on the mouth. That had been my intention anyway—one strong smack to reestablish my upper hand. But then something happened. A rolling kind of jolt went through me. Because while I’d meant to smack, his mouth turned out to be as soft as a wish, and I stayed a little too long. At some point while I lingered, he obviously recovered from his surprise…and I forgot all about Mill.
His
