Girl Least Likely to Marry. Amy Andrews

on a pair of loose leggings and a baggy T-shirt with a slogan that said ‘Back in my day we had nine planets’—one of the many geek-themed shirts Gina, Marnie and Reese had sent her over the years.

      She hadn’t even bothered to brush her hair—just pulled it back into her regulation low ponytail, with her regulation floral scrunchie, and pushed one of her many-toothed Alice bands into it, ensuring it stayed scraped back off her forehead. There really was nothing more annoying than hair getting in the way when she was in the middle of something.

      Actually, there was now. And its name was Tuck.

      Unlike the rest of the people in the dining room, dressed in their country club pasteles, her friends didn’t bat an eyelid as Cassie scurried their way, then plonked herself in one of the three empty seats at the round table. They’d have been shocked had Cassie dressed in any other way.

      Cassie forced a smile to her face as she looked at a glowing Reese, radiating the same kind of happiness she had a decade ago when she and her Marine had first met. ‘When did you get back? Where’s Mason?’

      ‘An hour ago.’ Reese grinned, sipping at some coffee. ‘He’s taking care of some business.’

      Cassie barely registered Reese’s reply but nodded anyway. A waiter interrupted and Cassie, ignoring the piles of pancakes the others were tucking into, ordered the same thing she had every morning for breakfast—yoghurt and muesli and two slices of grain toast with Vegemite. When he informed her they didn’t have Vegemite she ordered jam.

      ‘You okay?’ Reese frowned. ‘You look kind of tired.’

      ‘I didn’t sleep very well,’ Cassie said.

      Marnie looked at Gina, and Gina narrowed her eyes at Cassie. ‘Since when doesn’t Little-Miss-Eight-Hours not sleep well?’

      Cassie looked at her friends all watching her with curiosity. She shrugged. She didn’t know what to tell them because she’d never not slept well.

      Gina lounged back in her chair, her arms crossed, her fingers tapping against her arms. ‘This hasn’t got anything to do with a certain quarterback, has it?’

      Marnie sat forward, her blonde hair neat as a pin in a high ponytail that was one hundred percent more cute and perky than Cassie’s. ‘It does, doesn’t it?’

      Reese frowned at both her friends. ‘Tuck?’

      ‘Tuck and Cassie danced last night,’ Gina said.

      ‘Real close,’ Marnie added.

      Reese blinked at her. ‘Cassie?’

      Cassie had decided on her way down to the dining room that she wasn’t going to tell a soul about the strange feelings coursing through her body, but she felt herself sag under the scrutiny of three sets of eyes. She’d always been a great believer in solving problems by seeking out experts in the field. And, having lived with these three women and been through all their relationship ups and downs, she had to admit she had a panel of experts in front of her.

      What better people to confide in?

      ‘I don’t know what’s happening,’ she murmured. ‘I couldn’t sleep last night. I always sleep. I need to sleep. It’s vitally important that I do. I take specific medication to switch off my brain so I can sleep. And it never fails. I’m out like a light. Usually… And this morning I didn’t wake until nine… I’m always up at six. Always.’

      ‘Well, you were tired,’ Marnie reasoned.

      ‘And do you know what my first waking thought was about?’ Cassie continued, ignoring Marnie.

      ‘I’m guessing it was about something a little closer to the earth than usual?’ Gina said.

      Cassie sighed in disgust. ‘It was him. The jock.’ She looked at her friends for answers. ‘I don’t understand what’s happening to me.’

      Her friends didn’t say anything for a moment, as if they were waiting for her to say more or to clarify something. Then, one by one, the three women opposite her broke into broad grins.

      She frowned. ‘What?’

      Her friends had the audacity to laugh then, looking at each other as they cracked up. Cassie glared at them. ‘This is not funny.’

      ‘No, of course not,’ Reese soothed as she struggled to regain her composure. ‘Falling in love is never funny.’

      Cassie gaped at Reese. ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she spluttered.

      ‘Aww…’ Marnie purred, ignoring Cassie’s protest. ‘Our little girl is all grown up now,’ she teased.

      ‘And to think,’ Reese continued, ‘we voted you the girl least likely to ever fall for a man.’

      Cassie crossed her arms across her chest and waited for their frivolity to wane. She would not entertain such unscientific mumbo-jumbo. Love was a fiction perpetuated by romance novels and Hollywood.

      ‘It’s not love,’ she said frostily when the last smile had fallen beneath her uncompromising glare. ‘Just because you’re seeing the world through rose-coloured glasses, Reese, does not mean I’ve taken leave of my senses. You know I don’t believe in that voodoo. It’s his pheromones—that’s all. The man smells incredible…’

      Cassie could still smell him on her, and she shut her eyes for a moment to savour it.

      ‘It was dizzying,’ she said, eyes still closed. ‘Truly sensational. Like it was all I could do to stop myself sniffing and sniffing and sniffing him all night.’

      Cassie’s eyelids fluttered open and she found her friends staring at her with varying degrees of perplexity. She cleared her throat and straightened in her chair. ‘Anyway…it’s obviously a scent I’m biologically programmed to respond to. It’s just…biochemistry. Nothing more.’

      The waiter arrived and conversation stopped as he placed Cassie’s breakfast in front of her. When he left Cassie looked at Gina. ‘Surely there’s a lay word for that other than love? When your body overrules your brain?’

      Gina nodded. ‘Yep. We call it horny.’

      Cassie shook her head. ‘No.’ She was a scientist. She refused to be horny.

      Gina nodded again. ‘Totally gagging for it.’

      Cassie wasn’t sure what that meant exactly, but it sounded like something they’d say in the locker room on an American cop show. ‘Absolutely not.’

      ‘Libido?’ Reese supplied.

      Cassie paused. She liked that word best. It was backed up by science—the non-Freudian kind. It could be proved—the area of the brain responsible for libido had been studied extensively.

      ‘Yes,’ Gina agreed. ‘It’s your libido knocking.’

      ‘Okay, I can buy that,’ Cassie conceded. ‘But my libido has never been an issue before, so why is it knocking now?’

      ‘Well, that’s easy,’ Gina said. ‘When was the last time you had sex?’

      Cassie thought about it for a moment. It had been Len’s birthday request. ‘Seven months ago.’

      Gina blinked. ‘Seven months?’ She looked at Reese and Marnie, who were also staring at Cassie’s admission. ‘Well, in that case it’s definitely your libido.’

      ‘Who’s the guy?’ Marnie asked.

      ‘His name is Len. He’s another astronomer at the university. We’ve been working on the same project for the last five years. We have a regular hook-up.’

      ‘Every seven months?’ Gina interjected.

      ‘It varies,’ Cassie said, oblivious to the palpable incredulity around the table. ‘Usually whenever he starts to get cranky. I’ve found that it improves his focus.’