“Stop messing with me, Ash.”

“And miss a night with my two favorite ladies? Never.” Asher dropped in the middle of the couch. His arms spanned behind both of them as he leaned back. “What are we watching?”

Molly topped off her glass of wine. “Actually, I have a headache.” The doorbell rang. “That was fast. I’ll get it, grab a slice and my glass, and head to bed. Nothing better for a headache than pizza and vino. You paid for this already, right, Ash?”

“Yup.” He didn’t shift to the empty side of the couch.

Holy shit. Jenny wanted to hug and strangle Molly. Don’t leave me alone with him. I’m not sure of my next move.

“Night.” A laidback Asher leaned forward, letting his hand drag over her shoulders, then grabbed the empty wine glass. He filled it to an appropriate level, unlike Jenny’s monster glasses. “Feel better, Molls.”

Molly brought the pizza to the coffee table, grabbed a slice without a plate, and left the box on the table.

This isn’t at all awkward. And by not at all, all Jenny could think of was yes, this was obvious and awkward. The big, pink elephant in the room had donned a tutu and was dancing with sparklers in hand.

She gulped her wine. “Molly doesn’t really have a headache.”

What? Shut up, Jenny! Her nerves made the room shrink. She couldn’t take a stabilizing breath and had no idea what uncensored line would fall from her lips next.

Asher shut off the television, turned, and raked a penetrating gaze over her while sipping his wine. Her nipples grew tight, and she shivered to her toes. The room was too quiet.

Finally, he swirled his glass and set it down. “I know she doesn’t have a headache.”

“You know?”

His expressive eyes narrowed. “You know what else I know?”

No. I don’t. She shook her head. And I’m not sure I want to know. Her handling of his newfound focus left her quivering like a waif of a woman. Actually, drinking like a wino-sailor. The push-pull of their flirtation had never allowed for him to make a move. It was their unspoken rule, and apparently, she’d grown more than confident he’d never make a move. Tonight, she was unprepared.

“Guess, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart? She shook her head again. No way am I guessing anything.

He smiled in that trusting, all-knowing way he had about him. “Here’s what I know. First, someone threatened you girls. I’d walk away from everything I have to make sure justice is done. But second”—he took her wine glass out of her hand—“I needed to find you, Jenny. I need to put a stop to the one lie between us that has been as consistent as it has been irrational.”

“That’s the line of a politician.” Taking a deep breath was out of the question. The wine made her head swim. He made her head spin. She tried again to fill her lungs and felt them refuse. There wasn’t enough oxygen in her ever-shrinking living room. “You could mean anything.”