But in college, sex wasn’t an option, it seemed to Brynne. It was a given.

She hadn’t been a prude, but she hadn’t been a pushover, either.

In her mind, there was sex—and there was lovemaking.

Sex had its place, she knew, but it wasn’t currency, to be exchanged for pizza and beer or an invitation to a party.

Soon enough, word had gotten around campus that Brynne Bailey didn’t put out; if she went out with a guy, it was Dutch treat—no exceptions.

And no hanky-panky.

After college, Brynne had moved from Chicago to Boston and made a life for herself, working in various high-end galleries, first in sales and eventually in management. She’d squeezed her personal artwork—mainly abstract acrylics, with diversions into watercolor landscapes, animals and birds—in whenever she’d had that rare combination of time and inspiration.

And then there had been Clayton.

Clay.

She didn’t want to think about him. Especially not in the middle of a workday.

So she shifted her attention back to Cord and J.P.

She’d gone to school with them, from kindergarten right on through high school and they were good friends, the kind of friends a person could depend upon, in the best of times—and the worst.

She refilled their coffee cups.

“You guys have a lot of leisure time,” she teased. Since there were no other customers in the café at the moment, she decided to chat a little.

Cord trained horses, and he was world-renowned for his ability to establish a rapport with even the most troubled animal. J.P. had been injured in Afghanistan, years before, and had parlayed a modest government settlement into a fortune.

J.P. looked around, taking in the empty tables and unoccupied seats at the counter. “So do you,” he said.

Brynne made a face, then laughed.

“Want to sit down?” Cord asked.

“No, thanks,” she replied. She had a personal rule: she didn’t sit with customers, even when the eatery was nearly empty and the invitation came from two of her oldest friends. “I’m on duty.”

J.P. saluted, the smart-ass.

Just then, the number one vehicle from the sheriff’s department whipped into the parking spot next to J.P.’s fancy rig. It was a massive SUV, dark green under sprays of mud, tricked out with top-of-the-line gear and emblazoned with insignia.

Brynne felt a lurch in the pit of her stomach.

Even after all this time, he still got to her, especially when the encounter was unexpected. And she figured she ought to be over it by now, since they weren’t kids anymore.

Nevertheless, there it was.

She watched as Eli got out of the rig, shut the door behind him and headed for the entrance.