.

He looked at them, licking his own, as if he wanted a taste of hers.

      “Mine are…?” she prompted, getting that tingle again, her knees giving way just a little.

      “Uh…different.” He blinked and it was over, like a light had been snapped off. “And this one’s the big party.”

      “Starr took that shot.” Starr had set up Sylvie’s twenty-first birthday party at a restaurant, always doing what she could to fill in for Sylvie’s missing family.

      “That was some night,” Chase said, shaking his head.

      She cringed. Chase had caught her crying outside the ladies’ room after her mother called to say she’d missed her flight. “I don’t know why I was so upset. Desiree is Desiree. She came the next day with the handmade shawl she’d ordered for me, which was what made her miss her plane.” She shrugged.

      “You wanted your mom there on your birthday. Of course you’d be upset.” Chase’s dark eyes held her, told her to let herself off the hook, something she rarely did.

      “Anyway, that was a long time ago.”

      “The dancing was fun,” he mused, dragging her back there. Let’s keep the party going, he’d said to ease her distress. At the club he took her to, she’d drunk more peach margaritas. They’d been dancing close, teasing each other, when their eyes met and locked and Chase had kissed her.

      Desire had struck like the flare of a match, so bright it hurt. She’d felt unstoppable drive and aching need and triumph. Chase wanted her as a lover, not a kid sister. Hooray.

      She’d wanted it, all of it, naked bodies sliding together, sex and more sex. Her first time for the whole glorious act of love, though she wouldn’t tell him that embarrassing detail.

      Later, at her apartment, she’d been only halfway out of her dress when he somehow figured it out. Like there was a big red V on her forehead.

      He’d stopped, then lifted her sleeves back onto her shoulders, zipped her up and patted her. Patted her.

      She’d felt exactly like what she was, a nervous virgin.

      The memory made her shudder.

      “The drinking not so much.” She closed the frame with a sharp snap, then added it to the pile of belongings she hoped she’d soon be setting up in here for good.

      Chase looked thoughtful, when she turned back, as if he was still thinking about that night. “Did you see the reports I sent you?” she asked, sticking to business.

      “Did I…what? Oh, yes, I did.”

      “You’re after net operating income?”

      “Exactly.”

      Unlike in residential real estate, where value was based on comparable sales, commercial property value was based on cash flow. Every dollar of increased revenue meant ten dollars in increased value due to the capitalization rate.

      “There might be one final report on Mary Beth’s system,” she said. “She has all the material I sent you, as well.”

      “That’s great, except I can’t make sense of her computer files. Any clues?”

      “She had a quirky setup. I planned to organize it better. Back when I thought I had the job.”

      “For now, save me some time and show me what you know.”

      “Sure.” She dropped into the chair that should have been hers, moving the seat lower, since her legs were much shorter than Chase’s, which were long and muscular and…

      He leaned over her, not quite touching, but making her aware of him. He smelled of a spicy cologne and laundry soap. Very nice.

      “Here’s where she keeps the sales reports and the operations budgets I send her.” She clicked her way to the folders he needed, then found the file she wanted to add.

      Abruptly, Chase crouched beside her, eye level, his hand on her chair arm, way too close, making her skin prickle. She explained when the monthly sales data came in from the stores and what Mary Beth did with the various spreadsheets. “Wait, here’s a directory. Let me print it for you.” She turned to the printer and caught Chase with his eyes half-closed, a faint smile on his lips.

      “Chase?”

      His eyes flew open. “Hmm? Oh. I was just… What do you wear that smells like a cherry pie? You’re making my stomach growl.”

      “Probably my lotion. It’s from Heaven Scent. You want me to wear something less appetizing?”

      “No, no.” He leaned in to inhale. “I’ll just have to get used to being hungry whenever I’m around you.”

      The word hungry came out low and he suddenly wasn’t discussing pie anymore. Gone was the asexual, big-brother amusement in his gaze. She felt them both sink into the physical moment, their nearness, the longing they’d once shared back full force.

      The air seemed to tremble between them, like heat off a summer sidewalk. Caramel sparks flashed in Chase’s coffee eyes.

      The moment stretched out, brimming with inappropriate possibilities. All good sense fled in the face of this electric pulse. There was something about Chase.

      Maybe the way he looked at her, really looked.

      Whatever it was, she felt the same wild yearning. A first crush hits hard and locks on, but to feel the same eight years later? She’d had boyfriends. She’d had good sex.

      Some people just ignited each other, right? This kind of thing didn’t happen every day, did it? It was startling and remarkable and she could see Chase was struggling, too.

      He snapped to abruptly. “Anyway, you smell good, kid!” He rubbed the top of her head, then backed away and stood, wearing the goofiest look she’d ever seen.

      Kid? He’d called her kid? And ruffling her hair was somehow worse than patting her back, the way he had so long ago. What a jerk.

      She grabbed the printout, stapled the pages and headed over to where he’d gone—the old gray steel file cabinet. He pulled open the top drawer. “God, I typed these labels when I was in high school. I used to file for Mom after school.”

      “Yeah. I remember seeing you. Starr used to let me play with the adding machine.”

      “You hung around here a lot when you were little.” He turned to her, his arm on the top of the cabinet, fingers skimming the file tabs of the open drawer.

      “Sure. I always loved the mall. We even have the same birthday. April 15, 1980. I was born at eight thirty-five and the mall opened at nine.”

      “You know the exact date and time?”

      “Desiree figured it out.”

      “You call your mom Desiree?”

      “She asked me to. After she’d been gone a while. Because of all her craft shows, she left me with my grandparents when I was seven. She used to bring me here while she hung out with Starr.”

      “They were childhood friends, right?”

      “Yeah. Desiree and I had our best times here, visiting all the stores, making little purchases, snacking at the food shops.”

      “I remember you in the candy store one day. I was a freshman, so you must have been what…?”

      “Eight. I remember.” Vividly, but she wouldn’t tell him that. Not after he’d called her kid.

      “You were spending your allowance, I think.”

      “Not allowance. Income. I earned that money emptying shoe boxes at Tracer’s Department Store.”

      “Yeah? Anyway, I remember you had a fishtail sticking out of your mouth and your lips and teeth were bright blue.”

      “Gummi