“I might have murdered him if we hadn’t gotten out of that room. Kissing seemed less bloody.”

“So how was it?”

Hope pushed up, circled around. “He’s got skills. And I’m in a dry spell. I’m in a desert. I’m fine with the desert, but it’s a desert nonetheless.”

“You felt something for him,” Clare prompted.

“I felt something,” Hope qualified. “He’s good at it, and the desert is dry. Now I’ve kissed him, twice. We can barely have a civil conversation—scratch that—we can’t have one, and I’ve kissed him twice. So now it’s a situation. Isn’t it?”

“I’m going to let Clare take this one,” Avery decided, “except for saying the only situation I see is two healthy, unencumbered adults who are both more attractive than they have a right to be engaging in a little enjoyable physical contact.”

“But we don’t even like each other. And he’s one of my employers.”

“You’d like each other fine if you’d give each other a chance. And he’s not your boss. Justine’s your boss. And I still say you’re edgy around each other because you’re attracted to each other.”

Clare poked Avery in the arm. “I thought you were going to let me take this one.”

“Oh yeah. Take it away.”

“Thank you.” Clare looked over at Hope. “Ditto. More or less.”

Hope sat again. “I agree Justine’s my boss, but don’t you think Ryder considers himself my boss, too?”

“No, and I think he’d be annoyed if you did.”

Avery furrowed her brow, gruffed up her voice. “I’ve got enough to deal with, for Christ’s sake, without being the boss of you. You’re my mother’s problem.”

Hope laughed, felt the tension at the back of her neck dissolve. “That sounds just like him, in content anyway. So what am I worried about? It wasn’t a way into a situation. It was a way out of a situation.”

“Let’s focus on that a minute.” Avery wiggled down in her chair. “During the way out of the situation, were tongues involved?”

“Avery.” Laughing, Clare shook her head, then reconsidered. “Actually . . . were there?”

With a cat-in-the-cream smile, Hope tucked her hair behind her ear. “You’ve both known me long enough to know if I’m going to do something, I do it right.”

“I admire that about you,” Avery said. “Where were his hands?”

“On the door, he kept them off me. I was against the door, so—”

“Mmmmm. Don’t you love against the door?” Avery asked Clare.

“A personal favorite. Too bad about the hands, though. I bet he’s got good ones. I think it runs in the family.”

Hope let out a sigh. “Despite your mutual obsession with tongues and hands, I feel better. Thanks.”