“Not attracted to you?” In for a penny, in for a pound. He might as well clear it all up now. There was nothing else to lose. Their friendship was most likely shot to shit. All he was going to get from her were a few tipsy kisses last night and a goodbye in a few moments once she’d said what she came to say. “You want to know why I never look you up and down? Because it hurts to look at you.” He leaned back on the couch and closed his eyes, his face tipped up toward the ceiling. “Being around you is like being parched while there’s a glass of lemonade sitting right there, within arm’s reach. I have to talk myself out of gulping you down pretty much every second we’re together. I’d never be able to sip. That’s why I don’t look you up and down.”

John felt a soft, light touch at his arm and his eyes flung open. She’d padded over without him realizing it. She stood next to the couch, her eyes on her own fingers, which played with the sleeve of his shirt.

“You’re in a T-shirt,” she whispered. “And shorts.”

“I was going to go for a run before work. Before it got too hot outside,” he defended himself. “You’re in shorts too.”

“I’ve never seen you in anything but your fancy clothes. And your pj’s once.”

He blinked. If he was interpreting the expression on her face correctly, then she was looking at him rather softly. It was confusing. Weren’t they fighting? Wasn’t she just about to say goodbye?

With one pink-socked foot, she nudged at his shin. “You have hairy legs,” she whispered.

He looked down at his legs. Looked back up at her.

She took a deep breath. “This is how I look without makeup.”

“There’s no need to brag, Mary.”