“None of us does, which is why none of us ever attempts one for any of the rest of us. You know that, Parker.”

Parker’s fingers tapped the glass as she rose and wandered to the window and back again to sit. “There are always exceptions, especially when some of us are blinded by love and wedding plans.”

Fidgeting, Laurel thought. Parker rarely if ever fidgeted. “This isn’t one, to the best of my knowledge. You’ll have to imagine me lifting my hand to cross my heart because I can’t stop whisking yet.”

“All right. Jack’s spared. And I suppose there’s even more room since you and Del will be sharing a bedroom.”

She frowned into her lemonade as Laurel finally stopped whisking and took the pan off the burner. “Next problem?” Laurel asked.

“I have to decide whether to make sure Malcolm doesn’t have or get the wrong impression about this, or wait to make that clear if and when he does.”

Laurel strained the cream through a sieve over the bowl she’d set on the ice water bath. “Do you want my take?”

“I do.”

“It seems to me if you said anything about wrong impressions ahead of time, you’d invite them and/or irritate him into making a move anyway. He strikes me as the type who takes a dare. I’d leave it alone.”

“Sensible.”

“I can be.” Laurel took the small pieces of butter she’d already set out, and whisking yet again, added them one at a time to the cream.

“All right. I’ll just consider Malcolm a playmate for the other boys, and let it go.”

“Wise.” At last, Laurel put down her whisk and rubbed her arm. “I like him. Mal. I know I don’t know him all that well, but I like him.”

“He seems likeable enough.”

“Plus sexy.”

“Excuse me, aren’t you currently sleeping with my brother?”

“I am, and really hope to continue that. But one must notice sexy men. And if you tell me you haven’t noticed, I’m going to have to use this ice bath to put out the fire in your pants.”

“He’s not my type. And what are you grinning about?”

“Del said the same thing.”

Challenge and irritation ran over Parker’s face. “Oh, really?”

“Just the way Del does—because really, nobody’s his sister’s type in Del’s overprotective mind. But when he said it, I thought, yeah, exactly. Which is why I like him.”

Parker took a slow sip of lemonade. “You don’t like my type?” “Don’t be dense, Parker. He’s sexy, interesting, and different from your usual—and that could be fun for you. Maybe you should let him get the wrong impression.”

“Blinded by love.”

“I guess I am.”

“And why does that worry you?”

Laurel stopped massaging her fingers to point one at Parker. “You’re changing the subject.”