His cell phone rang in the bedroom, drawing a tortured groan from him. “That’s Christina.”

“How do you know?”

“She programmed in a special ring tone so I’d know it was her.”

Laughing, Sam said, “That’s clever of her. I should do that too.”

“You don’t need it.” He kissed her nose and then her lips. “I always take your calls. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be here.” Sam toweled off, combed her hair and brushed her teeth before she ventured into the bedroom and helped herself to one of Nick’s T-shirts. She grabbed her own phone and got in bed while Nick paced the room discussing the next day’s campaign stops with Christina.

Sam took advantage of him being occupied to text Harry: I told him, so quit looking at me that way. Smiling, she pressed send and awaited his reply.

Predictably, he fired right back. What way am I looking at you?

The make-me-feel-guilty way.

Don’t blame me for your guilty conscience. What’d he say?

All the right things. As usual.

Good.

Sam was so glad Nick had friends like Harry to help fill the terrible void John O’Connor’s death had left in his life.

Any ill effects from the shot?

Just a bruise the wedding planner is freaking about. Thanks for helping me out.

Any time. Get some sleep. Nothing worse than a bride with suitcases under her eyes.

Very funny. See you Friday.

Can’t wait.

“What’s got you all smiles?” Nick asked as he got in bed.

“Your buddy Harry. He’s quite the comedian.”

“Are you stepping out on me already? We’re not even married yet.”

“I like him. He’s a pain in my ass, but I like him anyway.”

“Everyone likes him. He’s a good guy.”

“How’d you meet him?”

“In the emergency room of all places.”

“Really?”

“About seven years ago, I broke my wrist playing hockey in a rec league. He was doing his ER rotation. We hit it off, and we’ve been friends ever since. I met Andy through him too,” he said of his lawyer friend who was also in their wedding party.

“Only you could break a bone and make a friend.”

“Two friends.”

“Which wrist did you break?”

He held up his left arm. “This one, thank God. I could still write and drive for the four months it was in a cast.”

“Four months?”

“Yep. I played years of high school and college hockey with only bumps and bruises. Then I join a league here just for fun. Roughest sons of bitches I ever played with. Happened in my second game with them.”

Sam took his left hand and studied his arm. “Is that where you got this?” She traced a finger over a faint scar.

“Uh huh. They had to pin it back together. Hurt like a mother.”