His Best Friend's Wife. GINA WILKINS

the baby is Daryn. The next picture is a close-up of Daryn.”

      Renae dutifully admired several more shots, then returned the phone to Tate. “You have a lovely family.”

      “Thanks. They’re hanging out with Lynette this evening, watching a chick flick on TV—though I imagine Daryn will expect them to pay more attention to her than the movie. What about you? Do you have photos of the twins on you?”

      After only a split-second hesitation, Renae handed her phone to Tate. Evan moved closer to look over Tate’s shoulder at the duo displayed on the little screen.

      “Wow.” After studying the photo, Tate lifted his eyes to Renae. “Your son is a carbon copy of Jason.”

      She nodded. “Yes. If you set their first-grade photos side by side, you can hardly tell them apart.”

      “Leslie looks very much like him, too,” Evan observed quietly. “Definitely has his eyes.”

      “They both do,” she agreed.

      She slipped her phone back into the pocket of the black slacks she wore with a gray-and-black-striped sweater. Though she’d been told the twins shared many of her mannerisms, and that both had her smile, she knew there was little physical resemblance between them. They had inherited Jason’s near-black hair and eyes rather than her blond, blue-eyed looks. She saw him so often in them, as she knew Lucy did, and the resemblance comforted them both, letting them feel that Jason lived on in the children he’d never had the chance to meet.

      Just as his memory would live on in this scholarship in his name, she thought, reminding herself firmly of the reason they were all here now.

      “I brought the donation request letter for the two of you to look over,” she said, digging into her bag. “If you have any recommendations, feel free to let me know.”

      Seeming to understand that she needed to bring the topic back to the present, Evan moved toward the table. “Let’s get comfortable. We’ve got deli sandwiches this time. Turkey or veggie on whole wheat with fruit cups and chocolate chip cookies for dessert. Help yourself. I’ll get drinks. Iced tea, soda or bottled water?”

      “You don’t have to keep supplying food, Evan,” Renae said even as she took a seat and reached for a plate and a sandwich.

      He shrugged as he set a glass in front of her. “I’m always hungry after work and I figured you might be, too. Let’s see that letter.”

      As Renae had expected, it was a little easier having Tate to defuse some of the tension between her and Evan. The undertones were still there, though she hoped Tate was unaware of them. Maybe they were all in her own mind, but still she was grateful to Tate for his easy chatter and ready laughs while they made several big decisions about the scholarship fund.

      Only forty-five minutes after they’d gathered, Tate glanced at his watch and pushed away from the table. “Sorry to jet, but I’ve got a late business meeting in Benton in less than an hour. I’d better head out. I’ll give you a call later to let you know how it goes, Evan.”

      “Yeah, thanks.”

      Renae set down her pen, thinking of the decisions still to be made. “Do you want to meet again next week to talk about the website?”

      Standing, Tate reached for his jacket. “I’ll be out of town next Wednesday, but I’m fine with whatever arrangements the two of you make. I know we’re under pressure to get everything up and running by the beginning of the new semester after Christmas break.”

      So she and Evan would be alone again next week. Renae cleared her throat and glanced briefly at Evan. “We can wait until the following week when Tate can join us again.”

      Evan shook his head. “Tate’s right. We don’t have much longer to get this all ironed out. If you’re available, I think we should go ahead and have our meeting.”

      The scholarship, she reminded herself. That was what was truly important here. “Yes, all right. But I’ll bring food next time.”

      Evan smiled. “If you’re sure you have time.”

      “Later, guys.” Tate dashed for the door, snatching a cookie from the table to take with him. Because he had always been casually demonstrative, he brushed a kiss on Renae’s cheek on the way past her. It startled her a little, but made her smile nonetheless.

      The apartment seemed smaller somehow with Tate gone. More intimate. Definitely quieter.

      Renae gathered her notes and stuffed them into her bag. “I guess that’s all we can do today. I’ll compile that list of state high schools this week so we can start mailing the application forms as soon as we have it printed. We’ll start sending the donation requests out at the same time. With the potential donors we’ve identified, I think we should have a decent response, especially since we’re making it clear that no contribution is too small to be appreciated.”

      Evan seemed to have no issues with her summary of their progress. Once again, she was pleased with how much input he and Tate wanted from her, even though the scholarship had been their idea and was initially being funded by their company.

      “We should need only a few more meetings to finalize all the details,” he said, “and then we can take a break until we start reading applications in April.”

      She told herself it would be a good thing when there was no reason to see Evan every week. She found herself thinking of him entirely too often during her days, and rarely solely in connection with scholarship business.

      She insisted on helping him clear the table this time, since they’d finished a bit earlier than the week before. She carried glasses into his galley-style kitchen and placed them in the dishwasher, turning just as he entered with the leftover cookies, so that he unintentionally blocked her exit.

      “Sorry,” he said, setting the cookies on the counter.

      She moved to pass him, but he didn’t immediately step out of the way, bringing them even closer together.

      His gaze held hers when he reached up unexpectedly to brush the ends of her angled bob, his fingertips just brushing her cheek. “Your hair is different,” he murmured. “Shorter and darker.”

      Self-conscious, she shrugged. “I stopped bleaching it. And it’s easier to wear it shorter with my busy schedule now.”

      “It looks good.”

      Uncertain how to take the compliment, she said merely, “Thank you.”

      He continued to search her face, as if noting every slight difference. “More than just your hair has changed.”

      “That’s hardly surprising,” she answered with forced lightness. “I was just a kid when we met, now I’m a thirty-year-old mother of school-age twins. Of course I’ve changed.”

      “You were a pretty girl,” he replied. “You’re a beautiful woman.”

      Her eyes closed for just a moment, her cheeks going warm. His simple statement had rocked her to her toes.

      “That’s one thing that hasn’t changed about you,” she said, her voice sounding a bit strangled to her own ears. “I still don’t know how to respond to some of the things you say.”

      “It was just an observation,” he said, and moved out of her path.

      She gathered her things quickly. “I should go. I’ll see you next week.”

      “I’ll try not to make you uncomfortable with uninvited accolades.”

      Though the words could be interpreted as somewhat defensive, he didn’t seem to be annoyed. She looked at him from beneath her lashes and saw that his mouth was tilted with a very faint smile. Which made her feel a little foolish for overreacting to what he had apparently considered a simple compliment.

      What was it about Evan that made her so often feel like such a fool around him?

      She