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He looked so sad she wanted to lean over and hold him. Why were things always such a mess when it came to relationships? Inwardly she sighed, thinking of her own confusion and longing when it came to love. Aloud she said, “Was she American?”

“Actually it wasn’t a she,” Kye answered, his cheeks dimpling. “It was a guy.”

Gay? Had she misread his cues, comments and body language so completely? Cassidy’s stunned reaction must have shown on her face. “Not what you were expecting to hear, I’m guessing?”

“No, it’s not that, I mean, well, yes.” Cassidy struggled to recover. “I usually have a pretty good read on that sort of thing.”

Kye again put his hand over hers, his touch warm and firm. “Your read was quite accurate. It just so happens I’m attracted to men as well. That’s not so unusual, is it? You give me the impression of someone who’s open-minded about such things.”

“Yeah. I’m totally cool with it.” In fact she wasn’t sure what she was with it, at least in regard to him. What was her problem? Had she already planned to seduce the guy, when on the surface they had only bartered business advice for a bed?

Yeah, she admitted, she had. She could almost feel his hard, strong body covering hers, her nipples mashed beneath his chest, her sex soaked with desire as he eased himself into her heat…

Kye shook her out of her mini-fantasy. “Would you like another beer?”

Forcing the fantasy from her mind, Cassidy glanced at her watch. It was already after eight. “I hadn’t realized it was so late. Say, have you had dinner yet?” When he shook his head no, she continued. “I was going to stop and pick up some tamales. Then I could take you home and introduce you to Ian.”

“Sounds like a plan, though I have no idea what tamales are.”

Cassidy grinned. “Then you’re in for a treat. Do you want to follow me?”

“I’d have to run awfully fast, I’m afraid. I have no car.”

“No car in Houston? How do you get around?”

“I’ve only been here a few weeks. Until today I didn’t need one.”

Cassidy sensed the subject was a sore one. “No problem. You can come with me.”

As they left the bar, Cassidy could feel the eyes of some of the regulars on her. She waved toward some gay friends of hers, George and Paul, who waved back. George, who was always telling her what a great catch Ian was and how foolish she was not to ensnare him, lifted a thumb approvingly into the air. She fervently hoped Kye hadn’t seen the gesture.

Kye put his few possessions in the back of Cassidy’s car and climbed into the passenger seat beside her as she started the engine. She pulled out of the parking lot, wondering what the hell had gotten into her. Picking up a stranger, taking him in her car, bringing him home to Ian? Was she certifiably insane? Yet she didn’t feel panicked, nor did she really question the decision, though admittedly it wasn’t like her to bring someone she’d just met home. Instinctively she knew she could trust this man. There was something about him that put her at ease, once she got past his devastatingly good looks.

They picked up tamales, enchiladas and refritos, and a six-pack of beer to go with it, before heading home. Kye insisted on paying.

Cassidy pulled into the driveway of the old house, with its sagging wrap-around porch and small yard, the grass of which was in desperate need of cutting, bright yellow dandelions peeking here and there through the green. She was embarrassed at the place’s bedraggled appearance.

She turned to offer her excuses, but Kye beat her to it. “What a fantastic old house. I love all the turrets and towers. This must be one of the older houses in Houston. This is really yours?”

The admiration was evident in his voice, and Cassidy’s embarrassment was replaced, or at least mitigated, by pride. “Yeah. Well, the mortgage is ours.” She flashed a rueful grin. “It was a foreclosure and we got it for an incredible deal. It’s still a hefty monthly payment though. Sometimes I think we rushed into it.”

“This house will return its investment tenfold, you can count on it. You made the right decision. It’s a sound old place, I’m willing to bet. A few nails and a bit of paint will smarten it up nicely. Have you got a lawn mower?”

“Yes, though I guess you wouldn’t know it from the looks of the lawn. That’s Ian’s job but he’s been so busy…”

“That I can well understand. Perhaps in the morning I can give the yard a quick mow. I wouldn’t mind a bit. I like to be occupied.”

“Oh, I couldn’t ask you—”

“And nor did you. I offered.”

They climbed out of the car and walked to the front door. She opened the door, calling, “Hi, Ian. I’m back. I brought Mexican food and a new friend. Come out and meet him.” She held her breath, waiting for Ian to appear. What was she nervous about? Kye wasn’t her date, and anyway she didn’t need Ian’s permission to bring someone home.

After a moment Ian came into the large front hall, running his hands through his short blond hair so that it stood on end, making him look like he’d just woken up. It was a habit he had when he had been concentrating on something for a long time and was trying to return to the world, as he termed it. She had always found the gesture endearing, and her heart lurched at the sight of him.

“Ian. This is Kye McClellan. He’s visiting from Scotland.”

A flicker of a scowl crossed Ian’s face though it was quickly replaced by a pleasant smile. They moved toward one another and shook hands. She knew Ian was wondering if the term friend was code for lover.

Ian and she were just friends—at least that’s what she told anyone who asked. Only Jane, her sister, knew of her secret, desperate longing for more.

Ian and she had met three years before at the pool party of a mutual friend. Ian had been there with someone, a slim, blonde woman named Angela, who for much of the party had hung onto his arm as if someone had glued her there.

Somehow he had eventually disentangled himself from his date, approaching Cassidy as she was taking pictures of the mosaic tiles set into the concrete around the perimeter of the swimming pool. Cassidy was never without one of her cameras, and she liked to take pictures of things other people might find odd—a closeup of blades of grass when the sun hit them just so, or a child’s chubby feet, shod in bright red plastic sandals.

After the initial small talk, they’d discussed color and design, and Ian had told her of his dream of creating his own line of jewelry, though back then that’s all it had been—a dream. Aware of Ian’s girlfriend splashing in the pool nearby, her eyes swiveling possessively toward him, their banter had been light and superficial, though there had been an undeniable attraction eddying and flowing just below the surface, at least on Cassidy’s side.

Ian had asked for her email address, ostensibly to take her up on her offer to photograph some of the pieces he’d been working on. They’d exchanged several long emails, veering from arranging a time and place to do the shoot all the way to what they each wanted out of life.

“There’s something about him,” Cassidy had confided to Jane. “Something different. He’s thoughtful. He’s got a poetic turn of mind. You should check out his MySpace page. His jewelry is really beautiful.”

“Who are you kidding?” Jane, who had also been at the pool party, had teased. “You love the way his back muscles ripple when he dives into the pool. You love his streaky blond hair and his cute butt.”

“Jane, shut up,” Cassidy protested. “Not everything is about sex. He has a girlfriend anyway. Besides, we’re on the same wavelength. Neither of us ever wants to get married. He agrees with me that relationships are vastly overrated.”

“What would you know about relationships? Mom’s right—you’re too much the gypsy when it comes to love.”

Cassidy was the first to admit this. In her twenty-six years she’d only been able to get to a certain level of intimacy with a guy before something in her DNA made her bolt. She just wasn’t cut out to be with one guy, at least not for the long term. After a while she began to feel hemmed in. What would start out as easy and fun invariably slid into a fight for control, a battle of wills, or worse, plain old boredom.

Sex just seemed to complicate the matter, and Ian had been no exception. At first things had gone great between them. The fact he was involved with Angela had actually worked in their favor. It freed them both up just to be themselves. Neither was trying to impress the other as a potential lover. It was great to have a guy friend who was just a friend. And he was so easy to talk to. If she fantasized about him late at night, it was nobody’s business but her own.

He, too, often said how great it was to have a friend who was a girl, but not a girlfriend. He liked being with a woman who didn’t require constant reassurance about her appearance and sex appeal. He didn’t have to walk on eggshells, worried that a casual remark would be taken the wrong way and lead to a night of sulking, which apparently was par for the course with Angela. It was obvious to Cassidy that he wasn’t especially happy with Angela, but she was too smart to go there, not unless he brought it up first.

After she’d photographed his pieces, they’d gone out for a beer. He hadn’t tried to hit on her. In fact, he’d spent a large part of the evening talking about Angela, and about his one serious relationship before that, the one that had soured him to the whole idea of getting too involved.

One day about a month into their friendship, Cassidy stopped by the jewelry shop where Ian worked just as he was finishing his shift. “Hey, Ian. I’m bored. Want to catch a movie or something?” Noticing his woebegone look, she added, “What’s the matter? Did Angela leave you or something?”

She’d only been kidding, but Ian didn’t smile. “Yeah,” he answered, stunning her. He hadn’t mentioned that anything was amiss between them, other than the usual bickering.

“Oh, Ian. I’m sorry. What happened?”

“Let’s go get a beer, want to? I don’t want to talk about it here.”

“Sure, absolutely.”

They went to Jim’s Place, even then a favorite of Ian’s, because it was quiet and close to Ian’s Montrose apartment. Over a pitcher of beer, he told her what had happened. “I feel like such a jerk. I wasn’t even in love with her, but walking in on her and my friend Kevin was like getting punched in the stomach. I was just so not expecting it.”

“Who would expect that?” Cassidy commiserated. “What a crummy thing to do.”

“Yeah. In my apartment, no less. I mean, if you’re going to screw around on someone, at least have the grace to do it in your own place.” He shook his head.

They finished the pitcher, and Ian, who held his liquor better than Cassidy, insisted on driving her to her apartment—they would pick up her car the next day. She invited him in, not consciously intending to seduce him, though in retrospect she realized the idea had begun to form the moment she found out he and Angela were history.

He joined her on the sofa, accepting a cup of coffee to sober up before he left. They talked some about relationships—how they never seemed to work out, at least not for either of them. Then, just like in a movie, Ian put his cup down, his golden brown eyes burning with a secret fire as he leaned toward her. She closed her eyes, her lips tingling in anticipation of his kiss.

There was no awkward fumbling, no hesitation, no newness to get past. He took her into his arms and kissed her until her heart was pounding high in her throat, her sex throbbing and swollen with desire.

He stood, leaning down to scoop her into his arms. He carried her to her bedroom and laid her on the bed. She had never wanted someone as much as she’d wanted him. She didn’t resist when he pulled her shirt over her head, unhooked her bra, slid down her pants and panties until she lay naked on the bed before him.

“Cassidy,” he whispered, his voice urgent with longing.

Quickly he stripped. She stared at his strong, firm body, her eyes drawn to his long, thick shaft, fully erect and pointing toward her. Leaning over her, he kissed her lips. He ran his tongue along her throat and collarbone to her nipple, and lower, leaving a trail of desire along her skin.

With gentle insistence he spread her legs, his tongue seeking and finding her center. All the pent-up desire, hidden beneath her own staunch claim to herself that they were just friends, came boiling over. Teetering on the edge of orgasm, she was trembling when he finally entered her. Almost at once she began to climax, coming so hard and so long she passed out, only to awaken a few seconds later, wrapped in his strong arms.

That’s when everything had changed.

The sex had remained fabulous, but everything else seemed to fall apart. Ian began to treat her differently. At first she just thought it was the newness of their being lovers. But instead of things getting better, they got worse. Gone was the easy banter. Somehow they had become stiff and uncertain around each other.

She realized she was treating him differently too. Instead of calling him just to talk about nothing or anything, she found herself weighing her words, afraid she might seem too needy or demanding, now that they were lovers. She missed the easiness of being around him. She missed being his friend, but she didn’t know how to get back what they’d had.

About a month into Ian and Cassidy’s new relationship as lovers, Angela solved the problem for them, in a roundabout way. At one in the morning, she showed up in tears at Ian’s apartment. Her lip was cut, her right eye swollen shut. Kevin and she had been fighting and he’d gotten physical. She fell into Ian’s arms, sobbing that she missed him and she was so sorry she’d fooled around on him.

Ian had settled her in his bed, after giving her a stiff brandy and some ibuprofen. Afterwards he’d called Cassidy, explaining what had happened. She was less than thrilled at the thought of Angela lying asleep in Ian’s bed, but he clearly needed to talk things through. They agreed Angela should press charges against the bastard. As they talked about the situation, Cassidy lay back in her bed, feeling the comfortable, sweet ease they’d used to share slip back into their conversation.

Cassidy sighed. “I miss this.”

“Yeah, me too. I don’t know what happened exactly. Why we lost it.” But they both knew.

“Maybe we’re better as friends than lovers.” Cassidy squeezed her eyes shut, mentally cursing herself. What was she saying?

She wasn’t entirely sure how she’d expected Ian to react. Had she wanted him to stoutly deny it—to explode with outraged indignation, to swear his undying love, no matter the cost? Well, he hadn’t.

There was a long pause, during which she wondered if he was still there. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.” Beneath the sadness in his tone, there was a finality that cut a fissure along her heart.

Angela chose that moment to call for him. Cassidy could hear her whine in the background.

“I have to go.” The sadness gone, Ian’s tone was crisp. “I’ll call you in the morning and we’ll figure this out.”

He had called, but they hadn’t figured it out. At least Cassidy hadn’t. Angela had stayed with Ian for several more days, claiming to be afraid of Kevin returning to her place. Ian tried, unsuccessfully, to get her to press charges. Eventually he sent her away, but by then the change in the relationship between Cassidy and Ian had been wrought.

And truth to tell, it was easier being friends. Ian relaxed again and slowly things returned to the way they had been before. They began to talk seriously about starting the jewelry business, though it would be a while before they took the plunge.

She never forgot the touch of his lips against hers, but she cherished their friendship more. Over the years, she’d watched Ian date and then break up with woman after woman. She, too, had her share of casual relationships. None of them could hold a candle to Ian, in bed or out.

Maybe, as she often told her sister Jane, she just wasn’t cut out for love.

Now she watched Ian and Kye sizing one another up, in that way males do, silently determining who was the alpha. If Cassidy had to pick, she’d have to say it was a tie.