His Best Friend's Wife. GINA WILKINS

stayed to help with the twins when we brought them home from the hospital. When we saw how well it was working out, she sold her little house and we’ve shared a home since. It’s been an almost-ideal arrangement for all of us.”

      She could tell he was startled to hear that she and Lucy shared a home. He wouldn’t be the first person to find it odd that a thirty-year-old widow chose to live with her mother-in-law for seven years after her husband’s death, with no plans to change the situation. Renae rarely bothered to explain and never made excuses. It was a choice that suited her family, and she had no qualms about saying so.

      Evan pushed his hands into his pockets, his expression shuttered, his brown eyes darker than usual. “Does she still spit on the ground every time she hears my name?”

      She didn’t really know how to answer that only partially facetious question. She settled for, “Not quite that bad.”

      A muscle flickered in his set jaw. “Okay, but does she still blame me for Jason’s death?”

      Renae sighed wearily and pushed a strand of blond hair behind her ear. “She still grieves for her son. She gets caught up in ‘if only.’ If only he hadn’t gone riding that day, if only he hadn’t bought a bike in the first place … that sort of thing.”

      “All of which lead back to blaming me.”

      She was unable to argue. It seemed best to take her leave then, instead. “Thank you for the pizza, and for letting me be a part of establishing the scholarship.”

      He nodded and walked her to the door. They reached for the knob at the same time, his hand landing on top of hers. Rather than moving it immediately, he went still, his fingers warm around hers. His face was somber when he looked down at her. “Renae?”

      Her heart was racing much faster than it should have been, especially considering they were barely making contact. Yet that touch of skin on skin, the warmth that radiated from him, the nearness and strength of him—all sent her thoughts winging back to a stolen kiss on a dark, summer night. A kiss that had left her bewildered, conflicted and crying into her pillow for several nights afterward. A kiss that still brought up feelings of guilt and confusion on the very rare occasion when she allowed herself to remember it.

      “What?” she whispered, unable to pull away just yet.

      “Do you still blame me?”

      She didn’t know if he referred to the kiss or to Jason’s accident, but her reply applied to both. “I try not to let myself dwell on the past.”

      That muscle twitched again in his jaw. “That’s not really an answer.”

      She drew her hand from under his, moving away so that no contact remained between them. “Jason made his own decisions.”

      Just as she had made hers.

      She shifted restlessly toward the door, making it clear she wanted Evan to open it. Without further delay, he did so. “I’ll see you next week,” he said as she walked out.

      She merely nodded and kept walking. Perhaps she should find an excuse to handle the rest of their scholarship business through the safely impersonal distance of email after all.

      “You’re quieter than usual today, Evan. Is something wrong?”

      Resting his chopsticks against his plate, Evan shook his head and reached for his teacup.

      “Just hungry,” he explained in response to Lynette Price’s concerned question from across the restaurant table. “I overslept this morning, so I had to gulp down an apple for breakfast on the way to a client meeting.”

      Lynette nodded as if that fully explained his introspection. “I hate when that happens. I forgot to set my alarm last Friday and I was fifteen minutes late to work. Threw me off schedule for the rest of the day.”

      A week after Evan’s meeting with Renae, he and four friends had gathered for their every-Wednesday lunch at a Little Rock restaurant. His business partner, Tate Price, sat on the opposite side of the table flanked by his bride, Kim Banks Price, and Tate’s sister, Lynette Price. To Evan’s right sat Emma Grainger, who worked with Kim and Lynette.

      Lynette, a physical therapist, and her coworker friends had started the Wednesday lunch outings almost a year ago. Lynette had invited her brother and Evan to join them a few weeks later. That was when Tate had met Kim. Now Tate and Kim were newly married.

      Though Tate and Kim’s wedding had been a spur-of-the-moment event, none of the others had been particularly surprised when they paired off. Sparks had flown between them from the start, though it seemed that the couple had been the last to acknowledge the attraction between them.

      “I’m sorry I caused Tate to miss your scholarship meeting last week,” Kim said to Evan.

      “It wasn’t your fault your car wouldn’t start,” he assured her.

      Evan remembered how hesitant he’d been to tell Renae that Tate had to cancel. He had sensed that she had been more comfortable at the thought of meeting with both of them rather than with Evan alone. He’d done his best to set her at ease, and he thought he’d succeeded for the most part—with the exception of their rather emotional parting.

      He still didn’t know for certain if Renae held resentment toward him for Jason’s death. After all, it had taken several years for him to stop blaming himself. Being outright accused at the funeral by Jason’s grieving mother had certainly not helped him with that slow healing.

      “How was your meeting with Mrs. Sanchez?” Emma asked curiously. Like the others, she’d heard about the scholarship launch, and had been told that the widow of the man in whose honor it was established wanted to be involved.

      It still rather startled Evan to think of Renae as Mrs. Sanchez, a name he associated with Jason’s mother. Renae had been so young when she and Jason married, and not much older when she’d been widowed. She was still young, for that matter, and yet she lived quietly with her children and her mother-in-law. Was she still in mourning for Jason?

      “It went well,” he said, keeping his thoughts to himself. “We made some decisions, outlined some of the things we need to do next.”

      “Is there anything I can do to help?” Kim offered. “I’m still so grateful to you both for making my brother your first recipient.”

      “He wouldn’t have gotten it if he hadn’t been deserving,” Evan reminded her, not for the first time. “I’ll let you know if there’s anything you can do.”

      “I’d like to help, too,” Lynette offered. “Maybe we can come up with an idea for a fundraiser.”

      Evan nodded. “That would be good.”

      “We’ll all help,” Emma said. “It’s definitely a worthy cause. But I’d like to hear more about Jason Sanchez. You guys haven’t told us much about him, other than that he was a high school teacher who died in a motorcycle accident. What was he like?”

      Evan and Tate exchanged glances, and Evan was sure memories were flashing through Tate’s mind, just as they were his own.

      “Jason was great,” Evan said finally. “Smart, funny, outgoing. Every kid’s favorite teacher in school, you know? He made a real effort to keep his classes interesting, to bring history to life for his students. He’d only been teaching a couple years when he died, so I guess you could say he hadn’t had time to burn out yet.”

      “He wanted to teach college history,” Tate contributed. “He liked academia, enjoyed the challenges and even the politics of it all.”

      Evan nodded. A good-looking guy, Jason had savored being the center of attention, knew he was admired by his female students, fancied himself in the role of popular professor. His dad had died when Jason was a young teen, leaving him an only child to be pampered and indulged by his adoring mother.

      Several years his junior, a lonely young woman with a deep-seated longing for family