did you finish that monster cake today?” she asked, opening the refrigerator to take out a diet soda for herself. “The funky blue one?”
“It isn’t blue. It’s aquamarine.”
“Whatever.” Nic carried her soda to the table and helped herself to the sports pages as she took a chair across from Aislinn. “It looked blue to me.”
“Trust me. The bride would be very upset if the cake she ordered to exactly match her bridesmaids’ hideous aquamarine dresses came out too blue. It matches exactly. And, yes, I finished it.”
“How many hours did you put into that one?”
“More than I want to count,” Aislinn replied with a groan. “I never again want to see another aquamarine frosting rose.”
“The cake really should have been horribly ugly,” Nic commented as she glanced over the football scores. “But somehow you made it look really nice—at least, from what I could tell when I saw it yesterday.”
Visibly pleased, Aislinn smiled. “Thanks, Nic.”
The doorbell rang, and Nic pushed away from the table. “That’ll be the pizza. I’ll get it.”
Glancing over the recipes in the food section of the newspaper, Aislinn nodded absently.
Five minutes later, Nic entered the kitchen again, eying her friend quizzically. “Were you especially hungry when you ordered? Since when have we eaten two pizzas in one night? And why is the second one pepperoni? We always get mushroom and black olive or extra cheese.”
Aislinn folded the paper and shrugged. “I just thought we might need extra tonight. If there are any leftovers, we’ll divvy them up for cold pizza breakfasts tomorrow morning.”
“Sounds good to me.” Nic figured it was a good thing she liked cold pizza for breakfast, since it was a safe bet there would be leftovers. Pepperoni wasn’t her favorite—or Aislinn’s, either, for that matter—but it was food, which pretty well fit her criteria for a meal. She’d never been a picky eater.
She had just set two plates on the table when someone tapped on the back door. She knew that tap. A smile spreading on her face, she moved to respond.
As she had guessed, Joel Brannon stood on her doorstep, his own smile a bit weary but as infectious as ever. There were slight shadows beneath his clear hazel eyes, evidence that he’d been working long hours lately—not that there was anything unusual about that.
“Hi, Joel.”
“Hey, Nic,” he responded in his pleasant, deep Southern drawl. “I brought back your car vacuum. Thanks for letting me borrow it. I’m buying one to replace my dead one this weekend.”
Accepting the small appliance from him, she nodded. “You’re welcome.”
He glanced past her and noticed her friend still sitting at the kitchen table. “Oh. Hi, Aislinn. It’s nice to see you again.”
“Hi, Joel. Have you eaten? Nic and I were just about to have some pizza and we have more than enough if you want to join us.”
Though he looked tempted, Joel said, “I wouldn’t want to intrude.”
“We really do have too much just for the two of us,” Nic assured him with only a glance at Aislinn. “You would be doing us a favor to eat some of this pizza.”
“Well, since you put it that way…” He closed the door behind him and sniffed the air appreciatively. “Hmm. Smells like pepperoni. My favorite.”
Nic didn’t even bother to look at Aislinn that time. She simply reached into the cabinet for another plate.
After a ten-hour day at work, it felt good to relax with warm pizza, cold wine and a couple of attractive women—even if one of them made him nervous and the other frequently made him crazy.
Joel glanced at Aislinn Flaherty—the one who made him nervous. And it wasn’t just because she was drop-dead gorgeous with her glossy black hair, flawless fair skin, rich chocolate eyes and curvy figure that her bland layered clothing couldn’t conceal.
He hadn’t spent much time with her, knowing her only because she was a fairly frequent visitor to his next-door neighbor, but there was something different about Aislinn. He couldn’t explain it, exactly. He actually liked her—but sometimes when she looked at him, he had the unsettling sensation that she could see right through him. Much more than he was comfortable revealing.
Nic, on the other hand, was so different from Aislinn that it amazed him sometimes that they were such good friends. There was nothing in the least fey about practical, down-to-earth Nicole Sawyer. Blunt and impatient, Nic was a good cop, a great neighbor and a loyal friend—but not someone he would want as an enemy.
Aislinn interrupted his thoughts with a friendly smile. “Nic and I have been doing all the talking this evening, Joel. I’m afraid we haven’t given you much of an opportunity to say anything.”
“I’ve been too busy eating,” he replied, indicating his nearly empty plate. “I missed lunch today and I was starving.”
“Then it’s a good thing we ordered so much, isn’t it?” Nic commented, glancing at Aislinn as she spoke.
Aislinn shrugged, but she didn’t look away from Joel. “Was it a rough day for you?”
“More long than rough. There’s a virus running through several of the local day-care centers, so my waiting room was full of cranky, dehydrated kids.”
Nic shook her head. “You’ve just described my worst nightmare. I’d almost rather face an armed crack addict than a room full of sick, whiny toddlers and their hysterical mothers.”
“The toddlers were whiny,” he conceded, “but none of the mothers was actually hysterical. And I’ve got to admit I have absolutely no desire to strap on a gun and face an armed crack addict.”
Their respective professions were the basis of a series of running jokes between them. Joel conceded without hesitation that she could probably take him down despite her smaller size.
He was as easygoing as she was intense, as mild-mannered as she was fiery-tempered. He wasn’t really intimidated by her, since he knew the kind heart and generous spirit behind her posturing—but he didn’t particularly want to make her angry, either.
Aislinn was still looking at him—not rudely but with what appeared to be concern. “Perhaps you’re just tired, but there seems to be something bothering you. Is there anything we can do?”
He didn’t know how she did it. Maybe, as she insisted, she was simply more intuitive than most people, better able to read facial expressions and body language.
“There’s something bugging me a little,” he admitted, “but I’ll work it out.”
The way she studied his face made him wonder if she could actually read his mind. But of course she couldn’t, he assured himself a bit too quickly. Her extrasensory talents, if that’s what they were, seemed to be more precognitive than telepathic. Not that he believed in stuff like that, of course.
“Nic
