At least, if that proved to be true, something amazing had happened. For the first time ever, reality had surpassed Tilly’s expectations. Nothing she’d ever dreamed, consciously or not, could hold a candle to the press of Jack’s mouth on hers, the exhilarating sensation of his hands on her skin.

Jack opened one cobalt eye. “Everything okay?”

Tilly straightened. Despite everything, she felt awkward being caught looking at him. “Sure. Why not?”

He smiled then, that sort of shy, slow-bloom smile that made her heart flip over in her chest and drop into her stomach. “I could feel you looking at me. Come here.” He lifted his arm, and, when she snuggled up to him, resting her head in the little crook between his arm and his shoulder, it felt natural.

Tilly sighed, listening to his heart beat, inhaling the seductive scent of his skin. “What now?”

“I thought we might go to sleep.”

“Funny. You’re a funny guy, Brogan.” She slid her hand down his side, and tickled just under his ribs, a vulnerable spot.

Jack laughed. “Okay, I know what you mean.” He caught her hand, imprisoning her fingers between his so she couldn’t tickle him any more. “Listen, Til… we don’t have to talk about this, you know. We could just… leave it be. Not everything has to be discussed.”

He’s right. Maybe it would be easier if they just let tonight be… whatever it was to them both, and move on. That is what I suggested, after all. She shifted slightly, let her eyes flutter closed. “Okay.”

They lay together quietly for another few moments, and Tilly wished, just for a second, that she could still time, and stay here, in the warm circle of his embrace, without worrying about the encroaching enemy of seconds, minutes and hours, and the precarious position of her heart, ready to tip into his hands, where she might never be able to retrieve it.

She sat up, pushing the soft waterfall of hair back from her face. Too dangerous, too dangerous to lay there with him, when every beat of his heart against hers brought her further and further from simply being his friend.

Jack’s fingertips brushed her arm, sending a delicious little shiver along her naked skin. “Not okay, then.”

“I’m just cold,” she lied.

“Come back and lay down with me, I’ll soon warm you up.”

The invitation warming his sapphire-brilliant blue eyes was almost too much to resist, but Tilly swung her legs over the side of the bed. “I fancy a walk.”

Jack sat up, too, and Tilly couldn’t stop her gaze from caressing the lean line of his torso, lightly furred with coarse dark hair, shades darker than on his head. “Sounds good. We could get some wine. Maybe a snack?”

“I sort of mean a walk… on my own.”

“Oh.” Jack stared at her as if she’d spoken in a foreign language, and Tilly didn’t blame him. This had all been her idea, if anyone deserved to behave oddly now it would be Jack. “Okay, then,” he relented, the hurt sketched all over his handsome face. Even with a frown on his lips, Tilly looked at him and felt the white-hot lance of desire rear its head inside her again. I have to get out of here.

She dressed quickly, feeling Jack’s gaze on her, his confusion almost an elephant in the room.

When she finally left, every muscle of her body tight with fear, she gulped in the night air, felt it knifing down her throat, her heart jackhammering against her ribs like a caged bird long past ready to fly.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. She’d thought, foolishly, that one taste of Jack would satisfy her curiosity, put it to rest once and for all.

In fact, touching him, kissing him, feeling the warm flutter of his breath on her neck, had had the opposite effect. Her stomach clenched with the almost tangible desire to touch him again, just to feel the texture of his skin against hers.

And it made her knees weak with uncertainty.

—

To the regular readers, sorry it’s been so long since I updated, much stuff has happened. I also seem to have lost the JPEGs of my lovely header images but I’ll find ‘em again soon. Thanks for reading!

Tilly shrugged, her slim shoulders moving in the clinging black top she wore, the neckline dotted with iridescent beads that caught the lamplight. “Why not? I don’t want a relationship with you, Jack. That’s risking too much. If I ever hurt you…”

Jack frowned thoughtfully. He felt like someone had invaded Tilly’s body – either that, or he was really, really high. Perhaps there’d been something in the Chinese food. “So what you’re saying is, you like me, but not enough to date me.”

She sighed, running her hands through her cloud of dark hair. “I like you too much to date you. This way, we can still be friends. It’s just lust, and hormones.”

Jack stared at her, and shook his head, biting back a laugh. “You know, I can’t believe you’re saying this. The girl who I thought was all hearts and flowers, hugs and puppies, suggesting what would essentially be a one-night stand.”

Tilly held his gaze for a moment, worrying her bottom lip with her small white teeth. “Have I gone down in your estimation?”

Again, Jack shook his head. “No, of course not. I’m just… It’s sort of like I’m seeing this whole new side of you.” A side that he knew he’d be thinking about for the next, oh, maybe ten years.

He must have said something right though, because Tilly moved a little closer. So close, in fact, that he could make out the flecks of gold in her irises. She laid a hand on his shoulder and he stiffened, caught between anticipation and, okay, slight fear about what she might do next.

“So….”

Their eyes met and held.

“What do you think?”

Jack held up his hands. “Oh, I don’t know.” His body felt quite different, of course, but right now he ought to be listening to his head. “Til, you’ve been the one constant in my life for as long as I can remember. I don’t want to screw that up.”

She sighed. “I feel the same way. But, and if we’re going for total honesty, I can’t stop thinking about you and it’s making me a little bit insane.” She let her hand trail down his side, and linked her fingers with his. “That’s all. But… you know. You can take some time to think about it, if you want.”

Jack looked at her, and then at their joined hands. A beautiful woman, and a trusted friend, was practically offering him a no-strings night of passion on a silver platter. He’d have to be dead not to turn it down.

He snaked an arm around her and pulled her close. “I’m done thinking.”

A smile trembled on Tilly’s lips. “Then I guess we don’t need words anymore.”

* * *

Tilly’s heart slammed relentlessly against her ribs as she leaned into Jack, looked into his dark blue eyes. It was a moment she’d often thought about – no, scratch that, often lived through in her imagination.

She lifted a hand to gently cup his cheek, the slightly stiff scrape of his stubble tickling the sensitive skin of her palm. He leaned into her touch, and, encouraged, Tilly brushed her lips against his.

When Jack slid a hand into her hair and kissed her back, his tongue tentatively touching hers, he tasted a thousand times better than she could ever have imagined. Even her frequent and fervent daydreams couldn’t live up to Jack – the warmth of his skin, his scent, the touch of his hand.

As their kisses became more passionate, Tilly slid her hand up Jack’s t-shirt and into his thick, curling brown hair. His hair was the first thing she’d started to notice about him – the first place she’d started wanting to touch him. Now, she threaded her fingers through the soft strands as they kissed, desire coiling tight in her lower body.

Jack drew back, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. “Wait here. Don’t open your eyes until I say.”

He smiled, and it was infectious; Tilly smiled too. She heard some banging and snuffling, scrunching, then the striking of what could only be a match. Finally she felt Jack link his fingers with hers, pulling her to his feet. “Don’t open your eyes yet.”

He guided her through the apartment, and when they stopped he fussed some more. “Okay, open.”

Tilly smiled. He’d tidied. The striped blue bed sheets, instead of lying haphazardly over the mattress, had been tucked in. A single candle, scented with something – vanilla, or maybe cinnamon? – burned on the bedside table. The curtains had been drawn.

“I know it’s hardly rose petals and champagne, but if we’re going to do this…”

“Shut up.” She grabbed his t-shirt and pulled him close, breathing in him. As she looked up into his face she thought: it should be illegal to be so attractive. Everything about him just pulled her in deeper. His dark, intelligent blue eyes. His kind, friendly nature. The adorable, wayward curl of his hair. The deep cadence of his voice.

Oh yeah, she thought as their lips met, I was a goner as soon as I met him. I just didn’t know it yet.

It seemed time slowed as they stood together, arms entwined, lips locked. Tilly’s heart soared, and if the fear that this might spell the end to their friendship reared its ugly head, well then, she forced it away. I can regret this tomorrow. For now, she just wanted to savour the moment.

She broke the kiss and Jack drew in a deep breath. The ragged sound he made infused Tilly with boldness and she let her hands slide down his t-shirt, feeling the lithe bunch of his leanly muscled form beneath the fabric. Slowly, torturing herself, she smoothed the fabric up slowly. The first brush of her hands against his skin, flushed with desire, sent a jolt of pleasure arching through her. Jack 

Tilly hesitated, her hand flat against his stomach. She felt his lower belly muscles tense under her fingers.

Jack covered her hand with his and pushed it up, silently telling her it was okay to keep sliding up his t-shirt.

Oh, boy. Tilly didn’t need telling twice. The fabric bunched in her hands as she lifted it over his head. Jack raised his arms to help, and they broke the kiss for a moment. Tilly dropped the t-shirt on the bedroom floor. It wouldn’t be missed.

Then she lay her cheek against her chest, feeling the soft, dry curl of the hair there, and his heart thumped against her ear. It was a sound Tilly could have listened to forever.

Jack had other plans. He wrapped his arms around her, then scooped her up, laying her down on the bed. Tilly felt the squashy mattress give slightly as Jack set her down, and came to lie beside her. “Change your mind yet?” he asked.

Her gaze met his, searched his beautiful cobalt eyes. “I’m not going to.”

“Neither am I.” Then, it seemed, he finally let go, kissing her with a passion she’d never imagined burned inside him. His hands danced over her, barely touching her through her clothes. She ached to feel him everywhere at once, and she arched her back, pressing herself against him, her fingers digging into his shoulders.

After what seemed like hours, Jack ended the kiss and began a leisurely journey downwards, dotting kisses over her cheeks and down her neck. He hesitated for a moment over the neckline of her top, his breath fluttering warmly over her skin.

“It’s okay,” Tilly murmured.

He didn’t react right away, but then he pressed a kiss to the sensitive skin below her collarbone, then lower, until he flicked his tongue over the curve of her breast, exposed by her top’s loose neckline. Tilly gasped, praying silently that he wouldn’t stop.

He didn’t. Slowly, gently, as if she were a china doll that might shatter, he slid the hem of her top up her stomach and over her breasts. He eased the fabric over her head, and Tilly had one frantic moment to wish that she’d worn some lacy concoction instead of her serviceable white bra.

“You’re gorgeous,” Jack whispered, and her doubts dissolved. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the delicious tingles shivering along her skin as Jack kissed her way over her shoulders, his mouth lingering in the shallow valley between her breasts. Her body tightened almost painfully as he edged the flimsy cotton of her bra aside and stroked his tongue over her sensitive flesh.

The feel of his mouth on her sent a thrill through Tilly. Desperate to feel him against her, skin to skin, her hands found their way between her body and Jack, and she fumbled at the zipper of jeans. Her fingers brushed against him, feeling the ridge of his desire for her.

“Wait,” Jack panted, his breathing shallow. He took his glasses off – a little steamed up – and set them on the bedside table. “Let me undress you first.”

Tilly couldn’t suppress a smile. They were both so eager to please – so hesitant. She felt more nervous than she had when she’d lost her virginity.

She lay back, her heart pounding, every sense focused on Jack’s gentle touch as he unbuttoned her jeans, parting the pliable fabric. She lifted her hips as he smoothed the cloth down her legs, whispering kisses over every inch of skin he exposed. Her jeans went the way of his t-shirt, and then she lay, exposed, a scrap of pink cotton the only barrier between him and the most intimate part of her.

Tilly pulled at Jack’s jeans playfully. “You’re overdressed.”

He smiled at her, that quick, bowl-you-over smile, and her gaze moved over his face, so familiar, and yet tonight so strange – so new, but so intimate. Tonight, he was hers, and only hers, and years from now, she’d relive this night again and again, no matter what happened afterwards, no matter what was said in the morning.

“So I am.” He sat up on the bed, unbuttoning his jeans, sliding them off his legs. Tilly watched, entranced. She’d seen Jack’s body before – on a beach holiday a few years ago, getting changed, on a hot day – but this was different. Now she’d get to touch him in ways she’d only fantasized about.

Jeans and socks disposed of, he joined her again on the bed. Carefully, he raised his body over hers, but, impatient as ever, Tilly hooked her arms around him and pulled him down. He almost fell into her, his weight pinning her down, and Tilly squirmed in pleasure. The hard, hot length of him pressed against her lower belly, starting an ache spiralling through her. She eased a hand down his stomach and cupped him in her palm, learning the shape of him through his boxers. Jack groaned against her neck.

“Condom,” she whispered.

Not without effort, Jack leaned over and opened a drawer in his bedside table, rummaging and pulling out a small foil packet. Tilly reached for it, but he shook his head. “Not yet.”

First, he unfastened her bra. The flimsy garment parted easily, revealing her to his gaze. Jack stroked her, worshipping her with his hands and mouth, until she arched up against him, biting her lip to keep from crying out. As she recovered from passion’s dusky haze, his skilled hands moved down her body, stroking her through the thin fabric between her legs. Tilly cried out his name, her hands clenching on his shoulders.

“Now,” she murmured.

He didn’t disappoint. She felt cold for a moment when he left her, then his weight settled above her again, his mouth gentle on hers. He drew a simple, quick heart shape on her stomach and then eased her cotton briefs down over her legs. In a heartbeat he pressed against her, his arms tight around her, murmuring against her cheek.

As he slipped inside her, Tilly opened for him. He whispered her name as they came together fully.

And she knew, as a little piece of her heart broke away to beome his forever, that things would never truly be the same again.

——-

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Thanks for reading!

The weeks crawled by. Tilly continued to date Anton but her heart wasn’t truly in it – even Kay saw and commented. Five weeks after their initial date, she met him in a café and broke the news. He seemed sad, but not overly so. He kissed her hand and wished her well. Tilly watched his retreating back, wondering if she’d thrown over a man who could have gone the distance with her.

A week after that, after no word from Jack, she finally gave in and called him. After fifteen rings, the voicemail cut in. Hi, you’ve reached Jack Brogan. Sorry I can’t come to phone right now. Leave a message.

She hesitated. “Hi Jack, it’s me. Just called to talk. Give me a ring when you can.” She pressed the little red “end call” button. She stared at the LCD screen for a moment, then tossed her phone down on the bed and went to take her frustrations out on canvas.

Two hours later, she had three angry red, yellow and orange paintings, almost violent in their passion. She also had no messages from Jack. Maybe he was punishing her for not calling him in almost two weeks. But hey, she’d texted, right? And wasn’t that almost the same as talking to someone?

Another hour, after she’d washed and dried her hair – not an enviable task with locks as long as thick as hers – she gave in to her churning stomach and dialled him again. This time, he picked up.

“Hey stranger.”

Just hearing his voice made her heart flip in her chest, batting against her rib cage. “Hi. I tried to call you earlier.”

“Did you?” His tone held genuine surprise. “I must not have heard it. Sometimes, after work, I forget to switch my phone off silent mode.”

Silence threaded down the line for a moment. Tilly swallowed, her free hand fussing with the hem of the skirt she wore. “So, what’re you up to?”

“Lying on the couch.”

“And?”

He chuckled. “And that isn’t enough? All right, I was reading, but then you called, and now I’m talking to you.”

Tilly pictured him stretched out on his couch, long legs hooked over one end, one arm behind his head, as New York bustled outside. The image was so warm and welcoming that for a second, she fervently wished she could be there.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Just finished some paintings.” She looked across the room at them. Oh boy, she’d taken her feelings out on her art, and in a big way. “They’re…. works in progress.”

Jack laughed. “I know what that means. You were in a bad mood and attacked your canvases. You should get one of those punching bags, you know, that boxers train with.”

Tilly scowled, and wished he didn’t know her so well. “I’ll keep that in mind. How’re things with you?”

She heard a soft creak as he shifted on the couch. “Okay. Work’s pretty busy right now. But a friend from work’s having a birthday shindig this weekend. You want to come along and hang off my arm? It’d make me look good.”

“Oh, thanks,” Tilly groaned, but inwardly her heart sang at being asked to go somewhere with him. “Will you buy the drinks?”

“I don’t even have to,” he said, and Tilly heard his grin down the phone line. “It’s a barbeque at his place. He lives on the bottom floor of one of those huge brownstones, you know, the kind where as soon as you visit you think about murdering him and stealing the place for yourself.”

Tilly smiled. “I love old houses. All right, I’ll see you on Saturday morning.”

“Why not Friday night? I haven’t seen you for weeks.”

Tilly hesitated. On the one hand, she should limit the time she spent with him until she knew what she truly wanted. On the other hand, Jack had been her best friend for years. She’d be a fool to say no – cutting off her nose to spite her face.

“Okay,” she gave in. “Friday night. But you’re buying the Chinese takeout.”

“Deal.”

* * *

I really like you. I think I’m in love with you. What about if we went on a date?

On the flight over, Tilly squirmed in her seat, trying to find a way to broach her feelings with Jack. How to tell him how she felt without ruining things?

Was potentially losing their friendship worth the risk if it led to something amazing? She clenched her hands in her lap, her short nails digging into the flesh of her palms. I just don’t know. If there was one thing she hated, it was not being sure of herself. She’d always been of the opinion that people who beat around the bush lacked strength of character. Now she had to reconsider.

Maybe people who feel unsure just have a lot to lose.

The flight, short as it was, seemed to drag. So did the subway ride to the centre of New York. Tilly shouldered her overnight bag and took a deep breath, willing her heart to slow down. It’s just Jack. So why did she feel as if what happened today could shape the rest of her life?

Don’t be so melodramatic. Whatever happened today, or whatever didn’t happen, life would carry on. Ultimately, even if she and Jack dated and then parted ways, they’d both get on with their lives.

But it won’t be the same, Tilly thought miserably. Aragh! She wished she could turn her brain off sometimes. If only she could find the switch.

She hopped off the subway, squeezing through the pull and press and bodies, and gasping in a breath when she could finally taste the air outside. New York always somehow seemed magical to her, despite the never-ending traffic, despite the smog and the crowds and the yell of gruff taxi drivers. Maybe that was Hollywood’s fault. Or maybe she just loved New York because Jack lived there.

By the time she pressed the buzzer on his apartment, dusk had started to descend. Not that in made much difference in the city that never slept – lights still flashed neon, cars screeched and hummed.

“Come on up,” Jack’s deep voice flowed through the speaker.

The door clicked. Tilly took the stairs again – it was better for her, or at least that was what she told herself – and when she reached Jack’s apartment he stood there, leaning against the doorjamb, his long legs clad in fog-grey jeans, wearing a loose black t-shirt that shouldn’t have drawn her eyes to his torso.

He wasn’t wearing his glasses, and his dark hair curled haphazardly around his face. Tilly wanted to reach out and smooth it for him. “Hey,” she said instead.

“Hey. I got your text. The Chinese will be here in ten minutes.”

Tilly gave him a hello-hug. “My hero.”

Some time later, they’d demolished six cartons of Chinese food. Tilly swallowed another bite of Mongolian beef before she declared herself stuffed. “No more. Oh God, no more. Let’s put this away before I explode.”

After, they slumped on Jack’s couch and watched some of his Futurama boxset. Exhausted, Tilly set a pillow on Jack’s lap and rested her head on it, her legs stretched out on the large couch. The apartment smelled of Chinese food, and the scent of Jack’s aftershave curled around her like a familiar caress.

She sighed, content for now. Jack lifted a hand and started to run his fingers through her hair; something he often did to comfort her when she was feeling sad. Tilly resisted the urge to rub against his touch like a purring kitten.

When his fingers strayed to her face, stroking her cheek, she turned her head, brushing her lips against the heel of his hand.

“Jack,” she murmured.

He paused the DVD. “Hmmm?” 

She sat up, pushing her mussed hair from her face. “I’m… not imagining this, am I?”

For a moment she thought he might take some sort of crack, but his expression was calm, as still as a lake. “No,” he said slowly. “I don’t think so.”

Her breath eeked out, half-sigh, half frustrated growl. “What do you want to do about it?

Now he did smile. “I was sort of hoping that it might go away if I ignored it. You know, the manly decision rules and all that.”

Tilly playfully punched him, but then her smile faded. “Actually, I sort of wanted to suggest something to you.”

Jack grinned wolfishly. “A night of no-strings, hot and heavy passion to get it out of our systems?”

Silence settled heavily between them.

Finally Tilly said, “Well, yeah, sort of.”

Surprise stole the smile from Jack’s face.

PLEASE READ: This chapter contains a very sensual scene. If this doesn’t sit well with you, please don’t continue. Thanks.

——-

For one perfect second that seemed to stretch into forever, Tilly held perfectly still. Memories welled up inside her – the burning ache of every time she’d looked at him and fervently wished that he’d touch her, just once, with more than just the casual intimacy of longstanding friendship.

Then it flashed by, and Tilly remembered something her friend Kay often said when it came to making decisions: Think of the first Transformers film. Do you want to look back in thirty years time and wish that you’d gotten into the car, or do you just want to get in the car?

Oh boy, did she want to get in the car.

She kissed back. As his mouth moved over hers, warm, quietly intense, Tilly lifted a hand to slide her fingers through the layers of his chocolate brown hair, tattered-silk soft against her skin. How often she’d thought about touching him like this.

He drew back; ended the kiss, and searched her gaze. A small, shy smile played on his lips.

Tilly would have given anything in the world just then, just to know what he was thinking.

“Sorry,” he murmured.

Tilly recoiled as if he’d slapped her across the face. I’m not sorry. “What?”

He leaned back in his seat, but his arms were folded. “I’m sorry. I… don’t know what came over me.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” He seemed to withdraw even more. “I just… I mean, I thought you and Anton made a good couple.”

What the hell? Tilly wanted to demand. You’ve just given me one of the most incredible kisses I’ve ever experienced and now… now you want to talk about my date? “Well… good, because I think he might even be the one.”

Why had she said that? She knew why. To get back at him for the barb he had probably not even meant. But it had hurt, and if the only way to get that across was to hurt him back, then so be it.

Jack looked surprised. “Oh. Well, that’s great.”

Silence threaded between them as the cab continued its journey through the congested streets of the city. Finally, just when Tilly thought she could bear the silence no more, the driver pulled up outside the hotel Jack was staying in.

“I liked them,” he said as he went to open the door.

Tilly turned. “What?”

“I liked your paintings. A lot.” She had a moment to drink in the quiet intensity of his beautiful cobalt eyes, framed by long lashes, and then he was gone, his presence reduced to the click of the cab door closing.

Tilly leaned back in the cab and closed her eyes, which burned with tears she wouldn’t dare shed in public.

She tried to will back the image of Anton’s pleasantly handsome face as he’d stood with her at the showing, but all she could think of was the little smile that Jack had worn after the kiss. A smile she’d never seen him give her before.

Her head hurt.

* * *

Jack dreamed of her. He tossed and turned in his sleep, the hotel bed’s white sheets tangling between his bare legs.

In the dream, he lay in his own bed, Tilly beside him, her inky hair spilling over the snow-white pillow case. The naked curve of her shoulder rose above the edge of the sheets, and he lifted a finger to stroke her soft skin.

She turned then, opening sleep-softened eyes, and her lips curved ever so slightly, as if she was dreaming, too.

Slowly, achingly slow, she lifted her body, moving underneath the bed covers like a thief moving through darkness. When her skin touched his, a low groan escaped his lips, halfway between a curse and a prayer.

Her gaze fell to his. Their eyes met and as Jack read the scorching heat in her eyes, he had no idea how he’d ever just seen her as a friend.

“Jack,” she whispered. She moved against his chest and her nipples grazed his skin. He curled his fingers into the sheet beneath him, afraid to touch, afraid in case she disappeared.

Then she lowered her head and their lips met. She opened for him, so that the tip of his tongue tasted the silky softness of her mouth. As they kissed, he felt her shift on top of him, straddling him. His body, past ready, tightened in delicious, painful anticipation.

Unable to resist any longer, Jack released one of his hands from his tight grip on the bedclothes and stroked his fingers down the gentle slope of Tilly’s spine. She arched in response, a low half-sigh, half-purr whispering past her lips.

He explored further, learning the shape of her shoulders, the column of her neck, and finally, gorgeously, the gentle weight of her breast, cupped in his palm.

Jack. He heard her whisper his name as she pressed herself wantonly against him, his breath fanning his jaw as she dropped teasing kisses across his face, heedless of the dark wash of stubble that populated his skin’s surface.

And then suddenly, she disappeared, snaking down against his body, nipping at the skin on his chest, her face pressed into the light smattering of dark hair there. Her hand, small of palm, tapered fingers, slid down his torso, over his flat belly, and followed the arrow of hair that led to the evidence of his desire for her.

When she cupped him, his hands clenched into fists. Everything centred on the glorious stroking motions of her hand on his flesh.

Then, all at once, she dissolved, and he awoke to the beeping of his cell-phone and the most frustrating morning hard-on he thought he’d ever experienced.

Jack rolled over, spreading his hand out on the empty side of the hotel’s big double bed.

Tilly.

But of course, she wasn’t there.

———-

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Feeling faintly ridiculous, Tilly hesitated outside the glowing windows of the restaurant she was due to meet Anton in. She wore a knee-length black dress with a wide red belt, and black court shoes with a red flower pattern on the toes. Kay had chosen well – she looked smart but sexy – but not overdone.

However, she felt rather different. Her stomach roiled.

By agreeing to this date, she knew she was officially starting to say goodbye to her chances with Jack.

Maybe he was on a date tonight, too. Tilly swallowed. The thought of him caressing another woman’s cheek, touching his lips to hers, made her feel physically sick.

She fussed with her clutch bag for a few moments and then, when she could put it off no longer, she stepped inside. When a pretty young waitress approached her, Tilly shook her head with a smile. “I’m meeting someone here.”

She scanned the tables, and finally near the back she saw a man matching Anton’s picture sitting alone. She knew the moment he clocked her, because he smiled. Tilly found herself smiling back, genuinely. He did look kind – and he was handsome.

Maybe this wouldn’t be a total loss, after all.

Tilly made her way to the table and Anton stood when she reached her seat. He offered a hand. Tilly took it. “Hi.”

“Hello.” He spoke with a slight accent, and Tilly’s hopes rose again. She was a sucker for men with accents. “I’m Anton. As if you couldn’t guess,” he added, with a self-conscious smile.

“Tiger-Lily. But my friends call me Tilly.”

She sat down and they looked at each other across the rose-petal table cloth, all awkward smiles and too much silence.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” Anton admitted eventually, running a hand through his dark hair. “To tell you the truth, I have been on a few arranged dates where the lady has…. Changed her mind.”

Looking at him, Tilly’s sympathetic heart squeezed. She had almost done the same thing – although, her circumstances were different. But Anton had no way of knowing that Kay had set them up on this date. “Well, I’m here now. And I’m sure we’ll have a fabulous time.”

He brightened. “Yeah, me too.”

The waitress appeared by their table. “Can I get you any drinks?” She looked at them from under what seemed an endless cloud of eyeshadow.

“Green tea for me,” Tilly requested. Anton ordered a beer.

When the waitress had moved on, Tilly opened the menu sitting before her. It was beautifully laminated, and gold thread laced it together. She was reminded, warmly, of the Chinese restaurants that she and her parents had eaten out at when she was younger.

“What are you thinking of ordering?” They asked each other at the same time.

Tilly laughed. And for the first time in a while, she forgot to think about Jack.

* * *

“Stupid tie.”

Jack stood by the mirror in his hotel room in New York, fussing with a dark blue tie. He’d chosen it because people had commented that it set off his cerulean eyes. Jack usually just said “mmmm” in response. He privately thought, sometimes, that ties were torture devices in disguise.

Tilly wouldn’t care if he wore a tie or not.

But, he reminded himself as he tried to knot the blasted thing once again, this was about making an impression. He wanted to be seen as more than just a friend, more than just the Jack she’d known all her life.

He finally knotted the tie, not without turning the room blue first with his curses, and then shrugged on his dark blue jacket. Too much for a gallery viewing? Probably not, since it was in the evening. He just felt a bit overdressed as he was allowed to wear t-shirts and jeans when he was at work. 

Outside the hotel, on the still sunshine-hot streets of New York, Jack signalled a taxi, and gave the gruff-faced driver the address of the gallery Tilly’s showing would be held at

He’d replied to Tilly’s invite – wisely or not – to say he wouldn’t be coming due to work commitments, but he had decided to surprise her. He supposed he’d see tonight if his gamble paid off.

The taxi wound through dinner-time traffic in the bustling city and finally Jack paid the driver and stood outside the glass-fronted gallery. People already milled around inside, drinking what Jack assumed was complimentary champagne or least some sort of juice. As he neared the entrance, he saw the paintings, grouped in their canvases according to colour, inspiration, subject, or whatever Tilly had seen fit to choose.

He gave his invitation to a middle-aged woman with a friendly smile at the entrance, and then meandered through the crowds. He felt rather pleased to see that, despite the heat, most of the invitees had opted to dress smartly.

Then he spotted her.

Tilly stood between an elderly couple, by one of her paintings. The couple seemed rapt, hanging on her every word as she gesticulated with her hands, the joy in her work sketched all over her face. She wore a dress – was it just him, or had she only just started to dress like a woman?! – in black, embroidered with large blue and white flowers on the left side. A powder-blue flower secured her hair in some complicated bun arrangement.

Jack swallowed, and made his way over. His heart felt like it lay in his throat. By his sides, he unconsciously curled his fingers into his palms.

He knew the moment she saw him. Something in her face changed – and a huge smile spread over her rouged lips.

She made polite excuses to the couple, and then he heard the gentle click of her shoes on the polished wooden floor as she zig-zagged through the crowd to see him. She poked him square in the chest. “Liar. You said you couldn’t make it.”

That made him grin. “I wanted to surprise you.”

She hugged him, pressing her cheek against his chest. Jack wondered if she could tell how hard his heart pounded – as if it wished to escape from his chest and flutter off into her hands.

“I have a surprise for you, too. Oh – there he is. Anton!” She waved.

Jack turned, a sinking feeling already instilling itself in his gut. Sure enough, a tall, lithe man, his skin swarthy like a handsome pirate’s, headed towards Tilly, a more-than-acquaintances glint in his eyes.

Tilly held out her hand and Anthon slid his fingers through hers. He gave Jack that look, a look Jack knew well. It said: Well, who are you and how do you know Tilly?

“This is Anton. Anton, this is my best friend, Jack.”

The two men shook hands. Looking on, Jack wondered if anyone noticed that they eyed each other with mutual distrust and suspicion. “The famous Jack,” Anton said in a New York accent with a hint of the exotic. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Really?” It made Jack feel childishly smug. “All good, I hope.”

Tilly poked Jack. “Of course. When have I ever had anything bad to say about you?” Then her gaze softened as she looked at him. Something flickered across her face, and she opened her mouth to say something, but then a woman arrived and patted her arm. “Are you artist? I’d love to talk about a commission.”

Tilly sent Jack and Anton apologetic smiles and then she was off again, her eyes sparkling as she spoke about her love of painting.

“She is really something,” Anton said, half to Jack, half to himself.

Jack nodded, his gaze tracing her retreating figure. “Yeah. Excuse me, I’m going to find the bar.”

* * *

Some time later, the guests dwindled, and Tilly said goodbye to Anton outside the gallery. He bent his head to kiss her, and she let him. His lips felt pleasantly soft and cool against hers – a nice kiss, a vanilla kiss.

But nothing that set her pulse aflame.

She watched him hop into a taxi, waved, and then went back inside to find Jack. She hadn’t seen him since she’d be plucked from him and Anton by the zealous woman. That hadn’t been a bad thing – she had a big commission to look forward to. But something niggled at her and she worried that she’d upset Jack.

She found him in the bar, nursing something that looked like whiskey. He’d unknotted his tie and it lay on either side of the open collar of his shirt. Looking at him, Tilly felt something inside her warm.

Sliding on to the stool beside him, Tilly nudged him. “Why the long face?”

Jack glanced at her. “Oh. Hi. How’d it go?”

Tilly sniffed. “You’re drunk.”

“Hmm?” Jack looked down at the glass of whiskey as if seeing it for the first time. “Where’s your boyfriend?”

“He went home. And I wouldn’t say he’s quite my boyfriend.” Tilly folded her arms. “Anyway, the showing’s over. Where are you staying?” It hurt a little, more than she would admit, that he hadn’t asked to crash at her apartment.

He named the hotel, a short cab ride away. Tilly hooked her arm through his. “Come on, let me take you back there. It’s pretty late.”

Jack didn’t protest when she led him towards the door. He wasn’t as drunk as he seemed, but he still reeled from seeing her with Anton – what a stupid name, too – and seeing her looking so…. Happy.

In the darkened interior of the cab, Tilly sighed. “What’s the matter, Jack? You haven’t been yourself all evening.”

Jack turned to her. Her black hair spilled loose over her shoulders, bare in the expensive-looking dress she wore. The red gloss she’d painted on her lips had faded, making her look as if she’d been thoroughly kissed by someone. Not him.

Tilly’s brow furrowed and she touched his cheek. “Jack…”

Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe he was just tired of keeping his feelings to himself. But Jack did something he never thought he’d have the courage to do. He leaned over, cupped Tilly’s chin, and whispered his mouth over hers.

Tilly looked up from her magazine at her friend Kay, who sat on Tilly’s couch. “Hmm?”

Kay threw down her own magazine and looked at Tilly knowingly. “You have two choices. Number one: you ask Jack out. Number two: You go on a date with a guy. It’s been too long.”

Tilly sighed and closed her own magazine. Once Kay got her teeth into something, there was no stopping her. “It’s that obvious, huh?” She moved to sit next to Kay on the squashy couch and rested her head on her blonde friend’s shoulder.

“I’m afraid so.”

Tilly drew her legs up under her, self-consciously playing with the ends of her loose hair for a moment. “I don’t know.”

Kay poked her lightly in the side. “Don’t be a dog in a manger. Either accept that he can never be yours in a romantic way, or bit the bullet and tell him how you feel? What’s the worst that could happen?”

Tilly rubbed a hand over her face. “I could screw up years of beautiful friendship. Okay, I accept it. Jack will never be mine in a romantic way.”

Kay stood excitedly. “Really? Okay, well. I did something for you. Don’t be mad, all right?”

“Ah…” Tilly stood too, her brow furrowed as Kay led her over to the computer. “You’re my friend and I trust you, but… Don’t be offended when I say I have a bad feeling about this.”

Kay motioned for Tilly to sit down at her own computer desk, and then rummaged in her pocket. She handed Tilly a piece of folded A4 paper, then clasped her hands together anxiously as Tilly unfolded it.

For a long moment, Tilly stared at the piece of paper, and then looked at Kay, then back at the paper. “You set up an internet dating profile for me?”

After a slight hesitation, Kay nodded. “What do you think? I think I chose a good picture.”

“I suppose so.” The picture was of Tilly at a party with some friends. She was laughing; her face rose. She wore a black dress, her waist cinched with a big brown studded belt. Next to her had stood Jack, handsome in a black shirt and brown cords, but obviously Kay had cropped him from the picture in case the men looking at her profile mistook him for her boyfriend.

She drew a deep breath. “Okay. Why not. What the hell.”

“Great!” Kay hugged her tightly. “I’m so glad you said that because I sort of replied to a few emails you got in the past day or two.”

Now Tilly’s mouth dropped open. “Kay, I-”

“Wait, wait.” Kay held her hands up, palms out. “Would you just look at the men before you say anything? And don’t say “they’re not Jack,” because that would be the lamest excuse I will ever have heard.”

“All right.” Tilly turned the computer on, resigned. “Point me at the site.”

Kay logged on for her, and within a few minutes Tilly was browsing pictures of men who had been brave enough to try and find love on the magical thing called the Internet. In spite of herself, she actually started to feel a little bit excited.

“I sort of set up a date for you with one of the guys,” Kay said.

Tilly just rolled her eyes. “You know, I think you’ve dropped so many bombshells today that nothing can shock me any more. All right, who is he?”

Kay took control of the mouse for a moment and directed Tilly to her e-mail inbox on the dating site. “His name is Anton. He’s half Albanian. He looks hot – with a capital H.”

Tilly clicked the small avatar to provide a bigger picture. Kay wasn’t wrong – Anton looked pretty charming – olive skin, kind-looking brown eyes, short, thick black hair, and a shy but attractive smile.

“Okay.” Tilly swivelled in her seat to face Kay. “When is this date?”

“Tonight.”

With what she considered admirable restraint, Tilly prevented herself from strangling her friend. “And where?”

“Lan’s Old Town – the new Chinese place? I thought it looked good, and I know you love Chinese food. You’re meeting him at seven-thirty.”

“Okay.” Tilly just gave in now. It seemed easier. “I guess you want to pick out what I’m going to wear, as well.”

Kay’s face lit up. “Well, now that you mention it…”

Shaking her head, Tilly turned the computer off. “All right. I see this like a band-aid. The quicker I rip it off, the less likely it is to hurt. Do you think you can hold off for an hour? I need to mail invitations to my latest gallery showing.”

As Kay chattered on about what colour was proven to aid communication on a first date, Tilly laughed and got together her invites and envelopes. Her latest showing would be held at a small artists’ gallery downtown, in three weeks’ time. She glanced down at the envelope on the top of the stack. It was addressed to Jack Brogan.

* * *

Jack fought his way out of his bed sheets in the morning and ambled to the kitchen for some coffee. He scrubbed a hand over his face as he put the pot on, feeling a few days’ worth of stubble.

Soon the heavenly smell of coffee filled the room, and Jack breathed in deeply. No human should have to start the day without coffee.

His workplace was having its 6-monthly deep clean today, so the whole building had shut. Jack had the most glorious of glorious things – a day off.

He contemplated what to do with this gift as he drank his first cup of coffee.

Tilly sprang into his mind. Wonder what she’s doing this morning. He hadn’t spoken to her in a few days and was keen to see what was new with her. They never went long without speaking.

He made himself a fresh cup of coffee and pulled an old t-shirt, grey from so many washes, over the pyjama bottoms he wore, before heading down the stairs to check his mail box. He had three letters. The first two he discarded as being boring – either bills or adverts – but the third one had been addressed with handwriting he recognised. Tilly.

Jack tore the envelope open and laughed when a handful of glittery confetti stars toppled from between the open edges. How like Tilly to add a bit of extra sparkle to anything she did.

So. He was invited to her showing. He already knew he’d move heaven and earth to attend. He found his diary and noted the date down, then slumped in a kitchen chair with a sigh, his heart feeling sore.

Maybe when he saw her at the showing, he’d ask her on a date. He’d been through the official men’s decision-making process enough times now, and it hadn’t helped. Perhaps it was time to do something different.

Three days had passed since Jack had seen Tilly off at the airport, and during that time he’d succeeded in convincing himself that she’d been in a bad mood because a) she’d been on her period or b) she had eaten something at the wedding reception that hadn’t agreed with her.

She had texted him when her flight had landed in Chicago, and, reading the short message, he had felt a pang of longing for his former home.

Or maybe the person still living in his former home.

Now, it was Tuesday night, and he stood outside the apartment building of his friend Drew, carrying a six-pack of beer and fully prepared for what they could manage of a Star Wars marathon.

He pressed the buzzer and Drew’s voice floated through the intercom. “Come on up. It’s open.”

Four days ago, he’d been the one speaking and Tilly the one waiting to be let in.

He shook the thought away and pushed open the door, then carted the beer up the two flights of stairs up to Drew’s apartment. He used to take the elevator, until one day he’d seen an old woman using the stairs. He’d been converted ever since.

Drew waited, leaning against the doorjamb when Jack reached his friend’s apartment. He dumped the beer into Drew’s open hands. “Hey.”

“Heya.” Drew let the door fall shut after Jack walked in, settling himself down on the old, decrepit but oh-so comfortable couch. “You okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” Drew tossed Jack a beer, cracked open one for himself, then stowed the rest in the refrigerator.  “Good weekend? You get far on that new game you said you bought?”

“No, I…” Jack scratched the back of his neck absently. “Tilly came up. We went to a wedding?”

“Your own?” Drew teased.

“Shut up,” Jack said as Drew sat down, but there was no real anger behind the words. “No. Her date bailed on her or something.” He took a long swallow of beer.

“That sucks. But still, you got to hang out. So. You ready?”

“Sure.”

Drew picked up the remote for his x-box and the oversized TV against the far lounge wall flickered to life before beginning to play the DVD. Just as the film started, a crash sounded from above.

Jack almost jumped. “What was that?”

“Oh.” Drew shrugged. “I forgot to say. My sister’s staying over. She had a bust-up with her boyfriend.”

Jack frowned. The universe in general seemed to be puking up over everyone lately.

They watched about a half hour of Star Wars before Drew’s sister, Abby, stormed in, muttering about stupid men. She plopped herself down on the couch between Jack and Drew. “Hi, Jack.”

Jack glanced at her, then looked again when he saw she’d obviously been crying. “Hey, Abs. You.. okay?”

“Fucking men,” Abby muttered.

Drew stopped the dvd. “Want a beer?”

Abby shook her head. Strands of her blonde hair stuck to her tear-dampened face. “Maybe some ice cream or something.”

Drew got to his feet. “I’ll get it.” He mumbled something about women being emotional.

Abby leaned into Jack. He put his arm around her and she settled against his chest, sniffling a bit.

“Would you like me to say something about wanting to pull out this guy’s entrails and then dance around them in a sort of Satanic ritual?” Jack asked.

Abby laughed a bit. “That might help.” She looked up into his face, her pretty brown eyes red-rimmed. “Why are men so stupid?”

Drew sat down again and handed Abby the tub of Ben & Jerry’s. It was open and a spoon stuck out of the top of the creamy, chocolate-chip peppered mass. Abby took it with a grateful smile.

“What do you mean?” Drew asked.

Abby licked the spoon and sighed, sounding a little less nasal now. She held the ice cream tub between her knees and pushed back her hair with her free hand. She wore no rings. “He said he didn’t know what he was thinking when he decided to propose to me.”

Jack and Drew exchanged glances.

“What?” Abby asked.

“Well…” Jack hesitated, then said, “You see… No, I can’t say it. You won’t like it.”

Abby narrowed her eyes. “Just tell me. It can’t make me feel any worse than I do now.” She slumped.

Jack frowned, and looked at Drew, who shrugged.

“All right,” Jack began. “The problem there is, he made a decision.”

Abby’s mouth fell open. “And what does that mean.”

Drew held up his hand to stay his sister’s not-to-be-underestimated wrath. “Don’t say it like that. He’s right. You see, when a man has something he wants to do, or is thinking about doing, he will never ask anyone for help or advice.”

“And why not?” Abby wanted to know. She spooned up another mouthful of ice cream.

“Because,” Drew continued, “Unlike you women, who will spill your guts to all your friends on a regular and prolonged basis, men think that feelings are personal. To be kept to themselves.”

Silence threaded around them for a moment. Abby dug in for more ice cream, then asked, around a mouthful, “So how do they ever make a decision?”

“I can answer that,” Jack grinned sheepishly. “Right, so. You think about what you want to do, then you think about it some more, and then you think about it some more…”

“Then you do it?” Abby asked.

Drew shook his head. “Nope. Then you think about it some more, then you think about doing something about it…”

“Then you decide you probably shouldn’t bother,” Jack finished. He lifted his hand. Drew high-fived him above Abby’s head.

Abby looked to and from her brother and Jack, her face filled with horror. “You’re joking, right?”

“I’m afraid not,” Jack admitted.

“So…” Abby punched him, but without really trying. “How… has the human race come so far?”

“Because women are willing to go to extraordinary lengths for a guy they like,” Drew said, laughing.

“Yeah,” Jack echoed, and then he suddenly thought of Tilly. Had his internal (and probably flawed) decision-making process stopped him from going after something that could have been amazing?

He felt a bit hollow.

But of course, he couldn’t share any of this with Drew, because feelings were personal. Stupid feelings.

Abby sighed dramatically. “I think God must be a man. He’s totally laughing at all of this right now.” She stood, hugging the ice cream to her chest. “I can’t sit here with you two now that I know the truth.” She eyed her brother. “But… What if you really need advice?”

Jack laughed before Drew could answer. “Well then, you ask a stranger.”

“And,” Drew added, “You stoop to the lowest of the low. You pretend it’s a friend that you need advice for.”

Abby stuck her tongue out at him. “Men suck.”

“Not staying for the Star Wars marathon, then?” Drew asked.

Abby rolled her eyes. “Later. See you, Jack.”

Jack smiled at her. “It’ll be okay, you know. I’m sure he’ll realise what a great thing he let go.”

Abby’s face lit up for a moment. “Thanks.”

She left the lounge, and Drew started to the play the dvd again. “You okay?” he asked Jack. “You suddenly look a bit… ill.”

“I’m fine.” Jack picked up his can from its position by the couch and took a long swig. Beer. That was what he needed.

* * *

Tilly threw herself into her artwork, and into tidying her studio. She tried to put Jack from her mind, but it was very hard – after all, he’d been her best friend for so long, he had installed himself in almost every part of her life.

She stacked canvases, made a for-sale pile, and to-archive pile, and a pile to be scanned and put up on display on her website. It was coming along well, and she’d even had two thousand hits in a day once. Even if she’d built it herself, she was pretty pleased.

She opened a box and a stack of pictures fell out. One of Jack landed on top, standing against a tree in Lincoln park. His face was relaxed, his eyes smiling. He wore a brown cord jacket which made the chestnut of his hair seem thicker, richer. Her gaze traced the lines of his face and she remembered that day; behind the camera, she’d looked at him, and in that moment, he was so handsome to her that she hadn’t been able to breathe.

Then the shutter had clicked, he’d moved forward, laughing, and time had ticked on.

Tilly let the photo fall back on to the pile. For God’s sake. He’s your friend. Just call him.

She dialled, unconsciously holding her breath. After a handful of rings, she was connected to Jack’s voicemail. She didn’t leave a message – didn’t know what to say. She just hung up and slid her cell phone back into the pocket of her jeans. She should have said: I miss you. But her stupid pride held her back from admitting she needed him, if just on the friendship level.

—————–

Between the Lines, Jasmine Aherne’s second novel, just recieved a 5-star review from Night Owl Reviews!

“I really enjoyed reading this story from Ms. Aherne. The storyline was fun and creative and her characters were easy to fall in love with. I immediately liked Tory because she was a down to earth person that just wasn’t certain what she was missing out of her life. She was likeable and easy to relate to on so many levels. I was also drawn to Aaron because he too was easy going and well traveled so falling in love with him wasn’t a hard task to accomplish. I had hoped from the very beginning they would act on their attraction to one another, but I understood their hesitancy due to their circumstances. Ms. Aherne grabbed me from the first page and held my attention the entire time. This was definitely a story that I couldn’t put down. I thoroughly enjoyed this story and would highly recommend it. After getting a taste of how this talented author writes, I would love to read more from her in the near future. This is definitely one you shouldn’t pass up!”

Tilly came back from the ladies’ room to see Jack chatting to a pretty blonde by a cluster of trees. She headed towards them, preparing to introduce herself, and she saw him smile at the woman – the sort of smile she hadn’t seen on his face for a long time.

She hung back, and caught wind of the conversation.

“…Here with a woman, weren’t you?” the blonde asked, tucking a curl of her behind her ear. “She isn’t your date?”

“Tilly, ah, no, of course not.” Jack smiled again, his blue gaze focused on the woman he talked to. “We’re just friends.”

Tilly took a step back, her fingers digging into the cloth of the purse she held. He was right – they were friends. But why did the saying go just friends? Why not, “Yes, we’re friends.” Why had he said it like she was nothing more than a passing acquaintance to him? Why had he used the quantifier?

She swallowed, her gaze still fixed on the couple. The blonde touched Jack’s arm in a more-than-friendly way. He didn’t move or shake her off.

It doesn’t matter. He’s entitled to flirt with whoever he wants.

But in her heart, she knew she didn’t really feel that way. But hadn’t she had a long talk with herself about not wanting to lose his friendship?

Tilly sighed, and turned away, walking back into the slowly decreasing crowd of wedding guests. She’d find someone else to talk to, and before she knew it, she’d forget that Jack had ever labelled their relationship just friends.

She found a few of her cousins and chatted to them about their husbands and children for a half hour that seemed like a lifetime. She ached to look behind her to see what Jack was doing, but she made herself stay fixed on the conversation.

When her cousin started on a childbirth horror story, however, Tilly made a polite excuse and went to find Jack. She needed to get home tonight, and if she left now she could make one of the early evening flights. Less than three hours on a plane, and she’d be home, back in her own apartment.

She found Jack talking to the blonde, still under the shade of two trees that had grown cozied together, mirroring the positions of Jack and his new friend. Okay, so they weren’t actually touching, but damn near close enough.

She cleared her throat.

Jack looked up. “Oh, hey Tilly.”

Don’t “hey Tilly” me, Tilly wanted to say. But she made herself swallow the words and smile instead. “Hi. Who’s your friend?”

Jack gestured to the woman. “This is Amanda. Amanda, this is my… friend Tilly.”

Amanda smiled a pretty fake smile. As fake smiles went, Tilly had done better. “Hi, Jack’s friend Tilly.”

Tilly bristled at the smug smile on the other woman’s face. She addressed Jack. “I’ve got to get back – I want to catch a flight before they stop for the evening. Do you have a spare key so I can get my stuff.”

Amanda looked at Jack askance, obviously trying to discern exactly what their relationship was.

“Tilly crashed at my place last night,” Jack informed Amanda. “You know what hotel room prices are like in New York.”

Amanda nodded, and sent Tilly another fake smile. “ Sure. Good to have friends you can crash with.”

That’s it. Jack looked at Amanda again, and he had that look on his face – the serious, considering one he’d given Tilly earlier, the one that made her feel that the cobalt blue of his gaze burned right through her. “All right. I’m heading off.” She held out her hand. “Key?”

“I don’t have a spare. I’ll come with you. It looks like this party is wrapping up anyway.” He started to say something to Amanda, but the blonde cut him off.

Quick as a flash, she opened her purse and took out a pen – a tiny one filled with what looked like glittery pink ink. Then she grabbed Jack’s hand and scrawled something across his palm. “Call me.”

Tilly thought she might be sick when Jack smiled back and said, “Sure.”

She walked off to the bride and groom to give her congratulations and to say her goodbyes. While she was complimenting the bride on her beautiful dress, Jack appeared at her side and said something polite. Tilly hardly heard. She’d felt him brush up against her arm, and his scent, the smell she knew so well, curled around her like a warm and familiar embrace.

A few minutes later, they left the natural beauty of the gardens, and the smells and sounds of the city swallowed them up as they walked to the subway station.

“Have a good time?” Jack asked.

Tilly didn’t spare him a glance. “I think you did.”

Jack looked down at his palm. “I’m pretty surprised, to be honest. I mean, did you see her? She was kinda hot. And she just came right up to me!”

“I bet she did.” Tilly rolled her eyes. Jack was a good-looking guy, but he never seemed to realise it. Ever since she’d known him he’d turned heads, but he was often too wrapped up in his own world to notice women looking at him.

Jack lifted a brow. “What is that supposed to mean? You’re forever poking at me to go out and meet women.”

Oh. Tilly ignored the churning of her stomach and told herself to grow up. Jack was her friend. That was it. She had no claim on him, and she really only had herself to blame for that, didn’t she? And she had asked him several times this trip about the women, or lack of, in his life.

“Nothing,” she said to Jack. “I think I’m just tired.”

The rest of the afternoon passed in a bit of a blur. Tilly packed her things and changed into denim cut-offs, sneakers and a plain red vest top.

Jack offered to see her to the airport. Tilly wasn’t childish enough to refuse just to spite him. We’re friends, remember?

Now some time had passed, she actually felt a bit of an idiot. Maybe I just imagined it all. Perhaps those smouldering looks he’d given her had just been his normal expression. She’d built on it; pasted her own hopes and dreams on top of him, but the glue hadn’t held so well.

Now I feel stupid. She didn’t think she’d felt more of an ass.

But still – thanks holy Jesus she hadn’t told anyone, most of all Jack – about how she’d felt. Imagine the scene. She’d pour her feelings out to her best friend, only for him to reply in earnest about his feelings for someone else.

Damned hormones.

“You can drop me off here,” Tilly told Jack at the entrance to the airport terminal. She held her pull-along suitcase in her hand. It felt like it weighed a ton.

“You sure?”

“Sure.” Please, just go.

“Okay.” He gazed at her for a long moment, and Tilly’s chest constricted almost painfully as she searched his unreadable blue eyes. “You always were the lone ranger. Have a safe trip back. Text me when you get home?”

“Sure.” She shifted, about to turn away.

“No hug?” Jack said just as she thought she’d gotten away.

Tilly hammed it up, smacking herself in the face with her open palm. “Of course. I forgot.”

She stepped into his embrace, feeling the solid wall of his chest against hers, breathing him in, and just in that moment, when he brushed his lips over her cheek, a little piece of her heart broke off and was lost to him forever.

She’d never get it back.

Stupid emotions.

“All right, you’ve paid the toll,” Jack teased. “Go on, wouldn’t want you to miss your flight.”

Tilly drew back, and the warmth his body heat had infused her with dropped away in tiny increments. “See you soon.”

He saluted her. “You’d better.”

Tilly finally turned and headed for the check-in desks, her sneakers slapping lightly on the shiny airport floor. When she looked over her shoulder, she met Jack’s gaze. His eyes held hers for a moment, and then he, too, turned away, and left through the automatic doors.

She could still feel the warmth of his lips against her cheek.

They lingered over their ice cream longer than they should have, and as a result a mad dash back to Jack’s apartment to change was required. Once inside, Tilly dashed to the guest room and closed the door, then frantically peeled off her clothes before spraying herself with passion fruit-scented deodorant and slipping on her dress.

The white fabric, patterned with blood-red roses and dark green stems, complemented her dark her perfectly. She swept the mass of poker-straight strands up, securing it and then sliding in a clip shaped like a big white flower. The clip served no supportive purpose; it simply sat in her hair and made the arrangement look pretty. She let a few strands of hair fall loose to stroke the side of her neck.

She slipped into white, sling-back shoes, and then she was ready.

Wonder how Jack’s getting on with his suit.

He’d looked utterly mouth-watering in the store earlier. She expected that he’d turn many a head at the wedding.

But he’s my date.

The thought sent a little tingle of awareness spiralling through her.

Quit being so stupid. What the hell was wrong with her, she had no idea. But she’d better buck her ideas up. Jack was her friend; her best friend – and there it ended. She’d be an idiot to jeopardize the brilliant friendship they had by attempting to make it into more. And if he didn’t return her feelings – he was a man, he probably had no idea – then she’d only make a fool of herself into the bargain.

Shaking her head at herself, Tilly applied a thin sheen of powder to her face, and a coat of gloss to her lips, then emerged from the spare room.

Jack turned at the sound, and Tilly’s heart leapt almost painfully in her chest. Her throat constricted.

He’s gorgeous. And oh, he was so much more, but that was the only word that came to mind right now. Absolutely, heart-racingly, dreamily, film-worthy gorgeous.

He’d neatened up his hair a bit, so the dark brown mass fell around his face in some sort of order. His blue gaze seemed to burn into her, his eyes framed like portraits behind the dark, thin frames of his glasses.

“You ready?” Tilly asked. The words came out like a squeak.

Jack was silent for a long moment. “I.. You’re wearing a dress,” he said, almost like it was an accusation.

A laugh bubbled up in Tilly’s throat. “I have been known, on occasion, to put on a dress.”

He shrugged. “I’ve just never seen you wear one before.” He chuckled.

She couldn’t resist spinning a small circle in the room. “And do you approve?”

Jack’s gaze skimmed over her. She noticed that his gaze lingered on her legs. “Let’s go,” he said quietly. Tilly thought he looked just a little bit sad, but she couldn’t imagine why that could be.

“Okay,” she acquiesced, and grabbed her bag.

The Bronx Botanical Gardens had been an excellent choice for a wedding venue, Jack thought later as he enjoyed the scenery while Tilly talked to a female friend.

She stood out among the people here, a delicate, Asian blossom with pale skin and sleek, coal-black hair. The other women here had taken pains to tamper with what nature had given them – bottle-red, yellow or blue hair, multiple piercings, trowelled-on fake tan.

Not that he held any of that against them. Hey, you only had one life to live, why not be happy with the way you looked?

But Tilly, beautiful Tilly, stood out with her natural glow.

Whoa, whoa. God, this wedding stuff must be messing with his head. He was here as a favour, nothing more. Just to fend off questions about when she was getting married.

And he had. But in doing so, he’d incurred so many questions about himself. How long had he been seeing Tilly? Did he think they were getting serious? Did he believe in marriage? Did he want children?

Jack had a headache just thinking about it. Tilly’s huge family might mean well, but they made him kinda scared to go near them.

Some of her cousins – and oh boy, did she have a ton – stood a few feet away now, talking animatedly in Mandarin and gesturing to him now and again. He had no idea what they were saying, and quite frankly, he thought it might be for the best.

Tilly came over then, grinning up at him. “Sorry. Weren’t bored, were you?”

“A bit,” he admitted. “But then I started to imagine what your cousins over there were saying about me, and the time flashed past.”

Tilly thwacked him with her bag, but there was no real anger behind her movement. “They… mean well.”

“That isn’t what you said earlier.”

She frowned. “Just because they mean well doesn’t mean I appreciate it. God. Chinese families are sort of like rats. Everywhere are once.”

Jack laughed out loud. “And I’m sure your mother would be thrilled to hear you say that.”

“Shut up.” She hooked her arm good-naturedly through his. “Let’s walk a bit.”

The reception was held in a sprawling, Japanese-style area of the Botanical gardens. Tilly led them to a small bridge that curved over a pool of water. The water’s surface lay still as the dead, water lilies floating atop it like ghosts.

Tilly broke her contact with Jack and hooked her arms over the side of the low bridge. “Isn’t this peaceful?”

Jack nodded. “It is pretty here.”                                      

They watched the water lilies float aimlessly for a few moments. The sound of rushing water, as if from a faraway waterfall, echoed somewhere in the distance.

“This is a great place to get married,” Tilly mused. “Of course, to plan that sort of thing, I’d need a boyfriend, then a fiancé.”

Jack didn’t think she’d have too much trouble with either of those. He’d seen her turn plenty of heads today. But, he said nothing. Suddenly the thought of Tilly announcing her relationship with someone made his chest hurt.

I’m sure everything will go back to normal once she returns to Chicago.

And even if it didn’t straight away – out of sight was out of mind, right?

“Do you want to get married?” Tilly asked suddenly, her gaze still fixed on some distant point.

Jack’s gaze stroked over the line of her back in the dress she wore. “I don’t know. Maybe; when the right woman comes along.”

Tilly turned, leaning lazily against the bridge. “How do you know?” She pinpointed him with a shrewd look. “I mean, how do you know you want to spend your life with someone? That’s a long time.”

“Tell me about it.” He shrugged. “I don’t know. I suppose you just know.”

She made a face. “That’s what the films tell you.”

Jack grinned. “And you don’t subscribe to all the romantic fluff in the cinema or on DVD?”

Tilly pursed her lips. “Sometimes.” She moved away from the side of the bridge. “I don’t know. I just think… I like being able to take off whenever I want, to go anywhere…. And I just think that if I got tied down, I might not have that sort of freedom.”

Jack had a sudden image of them backpacking through the Far East together, or flying to Amsterdam, or watching Safari animals in Africa. “With the right man you would,” he heard himself say.

Tilly rolled her shoulders restlessly. “Maybe. Let’s talk about something else. Did I really interrupt some weekend plans when I called? I mean, did you have some hot chick on standby?”

Jack laughed genuinely. “No. Sorry to disappoint you. There’s no one like that.”

And why not? A little voice in his head grumbled. The same little voice also told him that the reason why stood opposite him right now. He told the little voice where it could go.

“Maybe we’re not supposed to be monogamous,” Tilly said suddenly. She walked across the bridge, heading for a raised area with a pagoda. A few couples milled around, hand in hand, some with wine glasses.

Jack followed. “Are you telling me you’ve got several men on the go at once?”

She swatted him again. “Of course not. But it’s a lot, you know, to dedicate your life to one person.”

“Maybe that’s why the divorce rate is so high.”

Tilly laughed, the sound half humour, half horror. “Don’t say that so loud at a wedding.” But she was smiling at him.

They sat down in the pagoda. Tilly said hello to a few people she knew and they exchanged pleasantries. Jack stared at her, amused. “Do you know all the people in New York?”

“Only the Chinese ones,” she joked. “I’m just a very social person.”

Jack made a non-committal noise. He wasn’t, really. It wasn’t that he didn’t like other people. He was just not very good at holding together friendships. He could survive on his own quite well, so long as he had an adequate supple of books, video games and DVDs.

Just what did that say about him as a person?

He didn’t have long to dwell on that, however, as Tilly stood and grabbed his hand. “Come on.”

He feigned weariness. “Where are we going now?”

“People are dancing. Let’s dance.”

Jack hesitated as she tugged him. “I don’t really dance. You know that, right?”

Through the glass-empty windows of the pagoda, he spied other couples further down the long strip of Japanese garden. The band at the far end of the reception area had started to play something soothing and romantic, perfect for a summer day. A perfect song to dance to with a girlfriend or wife.

Of which Tilly was neither.

“I know,” she said in reply. “But it’ll be fun.”

He didn’t budge. “Maybe we should wait for a more… lively song.”

“Okay.” Realising when she was beat, Tilly plopped down again on one of the pagoda’s seats, and released his arm.

Jack hated to disappoint her, but he really wasn’t dance floor-worthy. He had never had been, and he truly had no inclination to learn.

It wasn’t long, though, before the band changed their tune to a more lively one. Tilly hopped up again. “Okay, Mr. Brogan. The band’s called your bluff. Are you going to dance with me or not?”

Jack stood. Fighting would only prove futile. “Okay. Come on, let’s do this. You know, your toes are pretty exposed in these shoes. Wouldn’t it be a shame if I trod all over them?”

Tilly rolled her eyes. “I am not afraid of your feet.”

“I am,” Jack grumbled, but he let her lead him to the dancing area anyway.

The singer sung excitedly about first love and dates as Jack stood still, letting Tilly guide him into position. “Here, put your hand on my waist… and hold my other hand.”

“This seems like slow song dancing,” Jack said, eyeing her suspiciously.

She grinned, unfazed by his grumpiness. “It’s all the same. You just move faster. Come on, you might even enjoy it.”

Tilly started to sway to the music, enjoying herself, even if Jack wasn’t. But she laughed and grinned at him, and before long he found her enthusiasm contagious, and he even started to have fun.

Then someone dancing behind them went a step too far, and jostled Tilly. She fell into him, and Jack reacted lightning-fast, catching her. His arms tightened around her slender frame as he tried to make sure she was all right.

“Thanks,” she said breathlessly.

“No problem.”

She lifted her face up to look at him, and close as he was, he’d only have to move an inch or so before their lips would meet.

Her eyes went wide, and knew that she was thinking the same thing, right now.

Maybe I should just do it. Their friendship would survive one kiss… right? After all, it would only be a kiss.

“Tiger-Lily? I thought it was you!”

A woman came bustling towards them through the crowd, and Jack bit back a sigh as Tilly righted herself and turned to greet the older woman.

Should’ve kissed her when I had the chance. Or maybe the other wedding guest had saved him from making a big mistake.

Yeah, a mistake. That’s what it would have been.

If that was true, then why did he feel so hollow now?

Summer sunshine snuck into the guest bedroom by degrees. Finally, when even through the drapes, the room had become bathed in light, Tilly stretched and sat up.

She’d slept surprisingly well on the blankets and sleeping bag Jack had rustled up for her when they’d taken a break between matches of Super Mario Kart. She grinned when she thought of their whoops and shouts while playing.

However, the close to the evening didn’t make her smile nearly as much. She could have sworn he had been about to kiss her.

And I wanted him to.

She shrugged it away. She didn’t have a boyfriend; maybe she felt lonely. She didn’t want to project stuff she needed on to Jack just because she knew him really well and liked him.

Jack had been her friend through thick and thin, good and bad. And her mother always said: “Boyfriends come and go, but a good friend is a friend for life.”

She did not want to screw up her friendship with Jack.

Rolling up the bedclothes, Tilly opened the guest room door. The living area was empty. Jack had tidied up the game console controllers before he went to bed.

Tilly crossed the short distance to the bathroom and took a shower. She realised she’d forgotten to bring her toiletry bag in with her and opened a little mirrored cupboard reachable whilst standing in the bath-cum-shower. She took out a blue bottle, flipped it open.

And she smelled Jack.

Unable to resist, she squeezed out a small handful and scrubbed it over her skin, washing away the night’s sleep. When she dried herself off – almost not required given the heat of a summer in New York – she felt almost human.

She dressed in jeans and a sky-blue tank top and decided she needed caffeine before she made any major decisions today.

She found Jack at the kitchen counter, brewing a pot of coffee.

“Thank God for coffee,” she said, half to herself.

Jack smiled at her over his shoulder. “You can say that again.” He poured her a cup, using the mug with a little cartoon cat on, the one he knew she liked best.

That he always remembered without fail touched Tilly.

For a moment they drank in appreciative silence.

“Listen,” Jack started, rubbing a hand over his unshaven chin. It was a classic nervous gesture for him. He hadn’t put his glasses on yet and without them, the blue of his eyes seemed sharper, more intense. More intimate. “About last night-”

“You know what?” Tilly interrupted suddenly, desperate for him not to continue. “You don’t have a suit. I owe you a suit. Why don’t you shave, and we’ll go shopping. The ceremony isn’t until one in the afternoon. That’s plenty of time.” She stopped just short of babbling.

Jack stared at her. “Tilly, you don’t have to buy me a suit.”

She all but shooed him from the kitchen. “Well, I want to. Go… do stuff. I’ll make some breakfast.”

A confused look parading across his face, Jack retreated.

Tilly leaned heavily on the kitchen counter. She would have done almost anything to avoid talking about last night, when they’d almost kissed.

It had been a brief lapse in judgement, she felt sure, probably on both parts. She and Jack were, and hopefully always would be, as close as brother and sister. Kissing – and all the stuff it led to – would only ever complicate things.

She put it aside and concentrated on halving poppyseed bagels, toasting them, and smothering the tops with strawberry jam. Jack’s favourite condiment.

When he reappeared, smelling of minty toothpaste and shower gel, his hair curling and damp, she handed him a plate.

“Thanks.” He bit in.

Tilly started on her own bagel, savouring the tingle of the jam on her tongue.

“You really don’t have to buy me a suit,” he said after he swallowed.

“I really want to.” How was it possible, Tilly thought, to know someone so long and not ever see them in a suit? She supposed Jack hadn’t really ever had a lot of opportunities to wear a suit yet.

“All right. But I’m at least going to contribute.”

“Sounds fair.”

Tilly put her plate down. “All right. I’m ready when you are.”

Breakfast done with, they left his apartment building for the gorgeous morning sunshine. Tilly lifted her face and let the sun’s rays bathe her.

“You’re like a cat,” Jack commented.

Tilly laughed. “I sometimes wish I could be a cat. Simple lifestyle. No job. No family pressures.”

“No weddings.

She elbowed him. “Shut up.”

They walked, a comfortable silence cocooning them. They took the nearby subway to a popular shopping area and after some consideration, Tilly led them into a chain-store suit makers. The window display looked refined and tasteful, yet affordable.

“Come on.” She arched an eyebrow at him. “Do you hate shopping?”

He shrugged. “Hate is a very strong word. But I do appreciate speed and efficiency.”

“Then I’m your gal.”

His sceptical look made her laugh as she flipped through suits on a rack. She pulled out three and thrust them at him. “Here.”

Jack blinked. “You’re done?”

“Yes.” She folded her arms. “That speedy and efficient enough for you?”

Wisely, he went towards the changing rooms without uttering another word.

He hadn’t put on a suit in a very long time – hadn’t had reason to, really. As he undressed in front of the long vertical mirror, he found himself wondering what Tilly might think. Nothing, probably. You’re just a friend. Nothing sexual about it.

But after last night, he had to wonder. The way she’d looked at him…

And broaching the subject this morning, and having Tilly interrupt so suddenly… it only made him more sure that maybe she’d started to see him as more than a friend…

Or, it could just be wishful thinking.

Since the subject made his head hurt, Jack concentrated on removing his clothes and putting on suit number one. Charcoal and pinstripe, it fit a little too close for his liking, but he was impressed by the effect. He looked pretty smart.

Tilly had hung a matching tie around the suit hanger, but Jack left it, choosing instead to leave open the first few buttons on the white shirt he wore under the suit jacket.

He tried to neaten his hair – futile as always, there was just too damn much of it – and finally clicked open the clasp on the dressing room door.

Tilly stood with her back to him, browsing the shop displays. Jack cleared his throat. “I’m, ah, done with the first suit.”

“Oh.” She turned, and then her expression changed from surprised, to something else, to…. Something he couldn’t read.

Oh good Lord. If Tilly’s mouth had been opened, she’d have been rolling her tongue back up right about now. Who could have known that Jack Brogan looked so gorgeous in a suit? So gorgeous, in fact – it was almost criminal.

While she gazed at him, he shrugged shoulders that had never seemed so broad before. “Something wrong?”

“No.” Only that he’d suddenly become even more attractive in her eyes, and that… actually disturbed her quite a bit. Maybe her hormones had just taken a little holiday… along with her common sense. “Sorry, I went somewhere else. You look… perfect.”

And he really did. The shirt he’d left open showcased a tantalising vee of skin that she had an insane urge to touch. The dark suit complimented his chocolate brown hair, and the suit pants skimmed down his long legs.

She’d forgotten how tall he was… how lean and lithe….

What else have I forgotten? Or was it that she simply hadn’t noticed? For so long, he’d just been Jack, her friend, and friend was the only mould she’d placed him in.

“Next one?”

“What?” She started.

Jack regarded her, an amused smile touching his lips. “I said, shall I put on the next suit?”

She didn’t think she’d survive. “Er… no. I think that one is perfect. What do you think? Is it comfortable? Do you like it?”

“Yeah, I do.” He swung his arms a bit, walked a few paces. “I’m not wearing a tie, though. When it comes to Summer in this city… I think a tie would be torture.”

“No problem.” Tilly looked away before she started to mentally act out a mini-fantasy about unbuttoning his suit jacket. “Well, it’s pretty hot in here. Why don’t we… why don’t you get changed and we’ll pay for the suit, then grab some lunch before heading off to the ceremony.”

“Sounds good.” Jack started to turn, then stopped. “Til? You okay? You seem a bit flustered.”

“I’m fine. It’s just hot in here.”

But for an entirely different reason than the lack of air-conditioning.

“Okay.” With enviable calm, Jack strode back into the fitting room and changed back into his casual clothes.

Tilly waited outside, and breathed a little sigh of relief. In a t-shirt and jeans, he was just Jack again, just her friend, nothing more.

She slid the unwanted suits back on to the rail and they queued for the checkout.

“So,” Jack said into the air.

“So?”

“This wedding. Am I going to regret saying yes? Or rather, being bullied into it?” he teased.

Tilly swatted him. “You’ve gotten a free suit out of it so far, haven’t you?”

Jack looked at her pointedly. “Not yet. We haven’t paid.”

Tilly rolled her eyes. “And there’s free food. Still not enough? Plus, you get to spend time with me, your very best friend.” She eyed him. “Unless my position has been usurped.”

“Never,” Jack replied, and this time he was serious. She could tell; the roguish glint from his eyes had gone. “You know that. We’ve been friends since forever.”

“Right,” she agreed, fiddling with the clasp on her purse. “Friends forever.”

“Besides, remember that time you made me pinky swear? I never go back on a pinky swear,” he said solemnly.

When he fixed her with that July-sky-blue gaze, it made her insides melt. She swallowed. “I remember.”

“Good.” They reached the checkout, and Jack handed the suit to the cashier. “Then I want an ice cream with my lunch.”

It was a fine idea on day so hot that eggs could be fried on the sidewalk.

Jack slung the suit bag over his shoulder and they headed out on to the street, to mingle with the people of New York. They were a varied bunch – tall, slim, some walking tiny dogs, most jabbering into cell phones the size of a postage stamp.

The sky floated above them, tendrils of fluffy white cloud easing slowly along amid the startling blue.

“Where’s a good ice cream place, then?” Tilly asked Jack.

“Just around here.” He directed them.

“You’ve learned your way around fast. You haven’t lived here that long, and you already know the best ice cream parlour.”

He grinned. “A man’s gotta have his priorities right.”

The bell to the small, friendly ice cream parlour, done up in a sort of sixties’ décor, tinkled as they went inside. A few couples and groups of friends sat dotted here and there, but it was quieter than Tilly would have thought for a Saturday.

“Hello my friend!” The Italian man behind the counter greeted Jack. His coal-black hair glinted under the strip lighting on the ceiling.

Jack grinned. “Hey there. This is my best friend, Tilly. Til, this is the owner of this fine establishment, Gino Cocco.”

Tilly offered her hand. Instead of shaking it, Gino bent low and brushed his lips over her knuckles.

A sudden image of Jack doing the same flashed through Tilly’s mind, and she shoved it away. “Pleased to meet you,” she heard herself say.

“And you, bella. Now.” He turned to Jack. “Take a booth. I’ll bring you two of my specials.”

“Oooh,”Jack grinned. “That’s it. You’ll never be able to eat an ice cream from anywhere else, ever again. Once you’ve had Gino’s special dish, that’s it. Everything else is inferior.”

Tilly laughed as they slid into the booth, sitting opposite each other. “You should work for him. Maybe you could walk the streets wearing a sandwich board. You’d be a great advert for ice cream.”

Jack opened his mouth to reply, but Gino appeared, setting a huge oval-shaped bowl of heaped ice cream, fruit and chocolate pieces before each of them. “Enjoy!” he proclaimed, before sweeping away again.

Tilly dug her spoon out of the tip of the bowl, and licked it. “Wow. You’re right. That’s kind of orgasmic.”

“Yeah,” Jack grinned. “I don’t have sex anymore. I just come here instead.”

Their eyes met over the bowls, and held for a second. Then Tilly abruptly dropped her gaze and focused on her ice cream. It was far safer all around.