Undone by Moonlight. Wendy Etherington

had to suppress a sigh at his wavy black hair and vivid dark blue eyes. She really was desperate if she was lusting after her best friend’s husband.

      When he moved out of view, Calla got a glimpse of him walking away, dressed in a tailored charcoal suit. With this whole assault and suspension mess, she’d also missed out on seeing Devin in a suit at the wedding.

      Infuriated again, Calla vowed to personally see that lying, purse-snatching jerk paid for that crime alone.

      “How’s the snow?” Calla whispered to Shelby as Trevor left the room.

      “How’s the sex?” Victoria asked at the same time.

      “Great and great,” Shelby returned. “And I need to get back to both. Trevor’s patient as a saint, of course, but an emergency video chat with my girlfriends is enough to drive any groom to frustration.”

      “Thanks for the pep talk,” Calla said. “Both of you.”

      “Tell Devin I’ll make him some of my special cookies when I get back,” Shelby said. “My next catering gig isn’t for a while.”

      “And if he decides to blow off the NYPD and these bogus charges,” Victoria added, “I’m sure Jared would be glad to take him off to Borneo or somewhere equally unextraditable.”

      Calla’s throat tightened. “You guys are the best. Coffee’s on me next week.”

      Victoria’s lips winged up. “Wedding pictures and a plan to clear a friend on an assault charge. Only the three of us could have a coffee date like that.”

      After they signed off, Calla slumped on the sofa. Her and her buddies’ latest adventures had included sending a fraudulent investor to prison and solving the theft of a cursed multimillion-dollar diamond-and-sapphire necklace.

      How hard could it be to convince the NYPD of the innocence of their determined, clever, though admittedly irascible, friend? Possibly without said friend’s help?

      She closed her laptop and leaned her head back. Who was she kidding? For months she’d lived in a fantasy world concerning Devin. The text, the craziness of last night and the impulsive kiss were all she had as any kind of evidence that he might want her, too.

      And all of those events could be attributed to some sort of altered state.

      He always comes to the rescue when you call him.

      Super. If only she were the one suspended and accused of assault.

      Maybe he was right. Maybe she should back out and let him deal with his problems on his own.

      He’d never desert you.

      Frustrated with the whole mess, and especially her interfering conscience, she rose. She needed a strong cup of tea and a big piece of leftover wedding cake.

      On the way to the kitchen, she glanced at the plastic pharmacy bottle sitting on the counter. His pain meds.

      Victoria was right. He’d be back.

      Unless he found a liquor store open on Sundays.