The place was still beautiful. How could it not be, given Sierra’s sense of style? Caroline noticed more of Will’s things—a framed team picture on the wall, sports gear in the mudroom.

She was struck by a curious notion. She was totally excited about her plans. And there was only one person she really wanted to tell—Will. But first—

She climbed up on one of the kitchen barstools and took a big gulp of beer. “Beer is always a good idea,” she said. “Coats my nerves with happiness. Now, you bailed on your date . . . why?”

“I realized I was wasting her time and mine. This past year, dating has just been a distraction for me.” He paused, looked at Caroline with an expression she hadn’t seen before. “Gets in the way of what I really want.”

“Which is . . . ?”

“To be with someone longer than a night or a weekend. It’s been fun, but now I’m over the just-divorced phase.”

“Now, that,” she said, “is going to break a lot of hearts on the Long Beach Peninsula.”

“Nah.”

“You say. I’ve been watching, Will. Women love you. Everyone’s been talking about the hot young coach who’s back on the market.”

“Everyone, eh?” He chuckled. “Who are these women who love me?”

“It’s a small town. I hear stuff. So you’re going to quit dating and do what?”

“I’m going to quit dating and fall in love again.”

She was so startled to hear the words come out of his mouth that she inhaled too quickly at the exact moment she was swallowing a mouthful of beer. The result was not pretty. Choking and trying to catch her breath, she grabbed a tea towel and held it to her mouth.

“Easy,” he said, patting her on the back. “You okay?”

She nodded and waved him off, then went to the sink and washed up. “I’m fine. Got all choked up, is all.”

“Not exactly the reaction I was looking for,” he said.

What reaction were you looking for? She didn’t let herself ask. “I’ll try to finish my beer without spewing again.”

“You’re not dating, either,” he said.

“How do you know? Are you keeping track?”

“No,” he said quickly. Then, “Yes. Yeah, I have been.”

She sat down again. Took a cautious sip of her beer. Tried not to stare at his face, but couldn’t help herself. He had the lips. He had the eyes. “Why?”

Holding her gaze with his, he took the beer bottle from her hand and set it gently on the counter. “Caroline. You know damn well why.”

Caroline’s eyes flew open. She awoke with a leap of panic—a “what have I done?” swirling through her mind. No, she thought, clinging to a thread of denial. I did not do that.

I did not just sleep with Will.

A gentle, peaceful, ridiculously sweet snore came from the slumbering man next to her.

Oh my God, I did, she thought. I did just sleep with Will.

And oh my God, it was the best thing ever.

She held herself motionless. Hardly breathing. Heart hammering, threatening to give her away. Then inch by inch she edged toward the side of the bed. It was still dark, the middle of the night. She still had plausible deniability on her side. She could sneak out now, drive home, slink into her bed like a truant teenager, and pretend this night had never happened.

Except of course it had.

She’d slept with her best friend’s ex-husband.

And before sleeping with him, she’d had the best sex of her life. The kind of sex she’d been wanting ever since she knew what sex was. The kind that left her glassy-eyed, helpless, weightless, terrified, and . . . unbearably smitten.

She had no excuse. No alcohol to blame, no sexual predator who had driven her into the safe arms of a man she trusted, a man she had loved as long as life.

This was bad. This had to stop.

A large warm hand tunneled under the covers and slowly, assuredly, made its way up her bare leg. “You’re awake,” murmured a deep voice.

“How do you know? I haven’t moved a muscle.”

“I can feel you breathing.” The hand circled the top of her thigh. “I can hear you thinking.”

“Yeah? What am I thinking?”

“Same thing I am.”

One touch of his hand nearly undid her. “I’m not breathing,” she said. “I’m frozen with mortification.”

“Cool.” In one easy movement, he covered her and started nuzzling her neck. “Then I won’t have to chase you around the bed. Don’t move. I’ll do all the work.”

“I . . .”

“All. The. Work.” His lips. His tongue. His knowing hands.

She practically melted into the mattress. The large, comfy, pillow-top mattress on his bed. She was in Will Jensen’s bed. Sierra’s bed. And the things they’d done to each other . . .

“Knock it off.” She scooted away from him and clutched the covers against her chest. “It’s after midnight. I need to go.”

“You already called your mom and said you were pulling an all-nighter.” He touched her bare shoulder, drawing swirls on her skin. “She said she’d look after the kids.”

Caroline burned under his touch. “We can’t do this, Will.”

“Too late. We already did, and it was awesome, and I never want to stop.”

“Are you kidding me? It’s insane. You’re my best friend’s ex.”

“Ex being the operative term.” He sat up and leaned against the headboard, which was upholstered in luxurious fabric, probably chosen by Sierra. “Look, at our age, everybody has an ex.”

“Not like this. It’s a problem, Will. She was my best friend, and she used to be married to you.”

“Almost everybody was married to someone else. We all have a past.”

“Not a past like we have.”

“Oh, baby, we’re just getting started. And you don’t get to say how this goes.”

“And you do?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” His hands again. Fingers tracing, swirling. Glint of moonlight on his incredible chest.

She shoved a pillow at him. “This is a terrible idea.”

He was quiet for a few minutes. “Listen, Sierra and I grew apart. We got a divorce. It happens. And now this. Now we’re happening. You and me.”

She scooted even farther from him. She was glad for the darkness in the room, because she was certain her face was a mask of panic, wonder, and confusion. “We’re not. We can’t.”

“Damn, Caroline. What the hell are you afraid of?”

Everything. Mostly, she was afraid of wanting this too much, of falling for him and being utterly incapable of picking herself up after whatever inevitable disaster awaited them.

“Talk to me,” he said. “I’m not used to you not talking. You talk all the time. I love that about you.”

Was that the same as I love you?

She drew her knees up to her chest, overwhelmed. “I’m afraid of . . . God, where do I begin? What about my kids? And by my kids, I mean it’s about to be official. I’ve submitted a petition to adopt them.”

“That’s fantastic, Caroline.”