It wasn’t such a bad ride after all. And things looked up when they pulled into the driveway of the multi-decked house on Seventeen Mile and the uniformed driver unloaded two cases of Blue Moose beer—a Templeton product—from the limo’s trunk.

“Now that’s a hell of a beer,” Michael said, then hooked his thumbs in his pockets and studied the wood and glass, the decks and gardens of the De Witt homestead. “And that’s a hell of a house.”

“Easy access to the beach, too,” Josh added. “Kate recommended the property to Byron before they got together.”

“Good call. It looks like her,” Michael decided. “Streamlined, classy, unique. Man, oh, man! ’65 Mustang. And it’s cherry too.” He walked over to the car, ran a loving hand over the fender. “What a beaut. And that ’Vette. First-round Sting Ray. Mmm, sweetheart, let me pop your hood.”

“We going to play poker or are you going to make love to inanimate objects all night?”

He shot a look at Josh. “Inanimate, my ass. Honeys like this have more personality and sex appeal than half the women you dated.”

“Shows that you haven’t met the women I’ve dated.”

“I dated some of them myself.” Michael strolled toward the front door, glancing over his shoulder at the cars, then at Josh. “Including your wife.”

Josh’s grin faltered and so did his feet. “You never dated Margo.”

“Didn’t I?” Enjoying himself, Michael climbed the short flight of wooden steps. “I seem to recall a couple of interesting evenings in France.”

“You’re just trying to psych me out.”

And it was working. “Ask her,” Michael said mildly.

Damned if he wouldn’t. His head reeling with visions he didn’t want, Josh reached around and opened the door. Two big yellow dogs raced forward and flung themselves at the newcomers.

“Nip, Tuck, sit.” Byron called out the order as he stepped into the wide living area. The dogs sat, butt to butt, and continued to vibrate. “You can put the beer in the kitchen. Thanks.” He motioned the driver toward the kitchen. “Think you brought enough?”

“We run out,” Josh said, “we send for more. Got food?”

“I whipped up a few things.”

Unable to resist two lolling tongues and two pairs of adoring eyes, Michael crouched and made friends with the dogs. “You cook?”

“How do you think he got me to marry him?” Kate stepped out, smiled thinly.

“You still here?” Josh moved over to tug her hair. “Go play with your own kind.”

She elbowed him away. “I was just leaving. But I want to say that the concept of the all-male poker game is a Neanderthal practice that I find insulting, particularly when it’s taking place in my own house.”

Being a wise man, Byron limited himself to rolling his eyes behind her back. But Michael didn’t have to live with her. He straightened, grinned.