They hadn’t made love since before the baby was born, although Janey’s doctor in Providence had cleared her to resume normal activity two weeks ago. Joe had sensed she wasn’t ready yet, so he had made a conscious effort not to push her or give her any indication he was dying for her, which he was. That was nothing new. Since they’d gotten together two years ago, he always wanted her.

“How soon can we leave?” Joe asked.

Janey laughed, and the sound of it warmed his heart. He was so damned grateful that she’d survived their baby’s traumatic arrival. As long as he lived, he’d never forget the overwhelming fear of that day. “It’s your mother’s wedding. We should be the last to go.”

“Maybe P.J. will act up and get us out of here earlier.”

“We can only hope.”

“Janey, I want you to know… There’s no rush on my part. I don’t want you to feel obligated or—” He completely forgot what he was going to say when her hand landed on his thigh and traveled upward to cup him intimately under the table.

“Any questions?” she asked with a coy, calculating smile that made his blood pump faster through his veins, all of it seeming to land in his groin.

“Just one. When is he going to wake up and give us an excuse to escape?”

“Soon. Very soon.”

“Good.”

Grace, Laura and Abby planned their attack stealthily. They waited until Charlie and Sarah walked away to get fresh drinks before they pounced on Stephanie, who’d been standing with her dad and Sarah for quite some time. Grace and Laura each linked an arm through Stephanie’s and walked away from the group as Abby followed.

Laura had to talk Abby into joining them. Since she opened Abby’s Attic in the Sand & Surf Hotel where Stephanie’s Bistro was also located, the women had spent a lot of time together. They’d long ago gotten past the fact that Abby used to date Grant and had become close friends. Laura enjoyed their company around the hotel and had enjoyed watching the two of them get closer over the course of the busy summer season.

“What’re you guys up to?” Stephanie asked her friends.

“This is an intervention,” Abby said.

“An intervention? What the hell?”

“We want to talk to you,” Grace said kindly.

“About?”

“Grant.”

“What about him?” Stephanie asked, a mulish expression occupying her face.

“Don’t shoot the messengers,” Laura said, “and he’d probably never admit it, but you kind of hurt him back there with how you brushed him off.”

“How did I brush him off?”

“By getting up and walking away when he tried to get you to talk about your wedding.”

“I didn’t do that.”