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  “Relax, Megan, I’m not going to jump your bones.”

  I shifted around and glared at him. “I thought we were going to a pancake house.”

  He reached over and tugged on one of my braids. “Can you undo your braids first, so it doesn’t look like I’m sitting there with a kid?”

  “I don’t see what difference it makes,” I mumbled, even though I began undoing them. My compromise between fast and slow. I hadn’t bothered to fix my hair. Mostly because I hadn’t wanted him to think I was doing anything special for him.

  When I had the strands undone, I ran my fingers through my hair, shook my head, and wondered why he was grinning like the Cheshire cat.

  “I really like it loose,” he said.

  I thought about grabbing my clip out of my backpack, but I liked the way he was looking at me.

  Bad, Megan. Don’t encourage him.

  “Are we going to go?” I asked. It was so wrong to be attracted to this guy. I had Nick.

  “Sure.” He twisted around, started the car.

  I breathed a sigh of relief.

  We didn’t talk during the short drive to the pancake house. And we ordered more than coffee and milk. I ordered a short stack of pancakes, and Parker ordered the International, which included pancakes, Belgian waffles, and French toast, plus bacon, eggs, and hash browns. The guy had an appetite.

  The waitress poured him a cup of coffee and brought my milk. After she left, Parker stretched his arm along the back of the booth, reminding me of some lithe creature that was about to pounce.

  “You wanted to talk?” I said.

  “Like I said, I’ve been thinking about that kiss—”

  “Well, I’ve been thinking about it, too, and it shouldn’t have happened.”

  “I agree.”

  With a devilish grin, he reached across and nudged my chin up so my dropped jaw closed. His words were so not what I was expecting. I was thinking he was going to say that it should happen again. I was confused, mostly because—shame on me—I sorta wanted it to.

  “That’s…that’s good,” I finally stammered. “So it won’t happen again.”

  “Won’t happen again.” Leaning forward, he crossed his arms on the table. “So there’s no reason that we can’t be friends, hang out, have some summer fun.”

  For some reason an old Elvis Presley song about suspicious minds that my grandmother played a lot was suddenly reverberating through my head.

  “You want to be just friends?”

  “Sure. Why not? We’re here for the summer. I like you. I do a lot of stuff with Jordan. You’re her roommate, and knowing Jordan, she’ll invite you to join us. If I hook up with someone else, you’ll always feel like a third wheel. If I stay unattached, then when pairing takes place, you have someone to pair with.” He shrugged. “And so do I. Lot less work on my part. I’ll have a partner for the summer that I don’t have to impress. Just hang with. Who wants to spend the summer looking for dates?”

  I furrowed my brow. “Why don’t I trust you?”

  He pounded his fist against his chest, over his heart. “I’m hurt. It’s an earnest offer. Friends for the summer. Nothing more.”

  “Friends.”

  “Friends.”

  “Didn’t think guys and girls could be just friends.”

  “Sure they can. I have lots of just friends who are girls. Kate Hudson—”

  “You know Kate Hudson? The Kate Hudson?”

  “Sure. She was in one of my dad’s movies. You could have fun with me, Megan. I’m an interesting guy. Be really nice, and maybe I’ll introduce you to Orlando Bloom.”

  My jaw tightened. “And what does really nice involve?”

  He grimaced, realizing his poor choice of words.

  “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not expecting anything other than friendship. Be a good friend, and maybe I’ll introduce you to Orlo.”

  Orlo? Did he really know him that well?

  “I don’t get it, Parker. I mean, you hanging out with me, when I have a boyfriend, will mean that I won’t be alone for the summer, but what do you get out of the deal?”

  “The same thing. Not being alone for the summer. Look, Megan, it’s a lot of work to try to develop a relationship, especially if you want it to go beyond friendship. With you, I wouldn’t have to put forth any effort. Which works for me, because basically I’m a lazy guy.”

  I thought about how all Jordan’s car had needed was a new battery, and he’d gone to the trouble to change her oil. Lazy? I didn’t think so.

  But if his offer was honest and sincere, while I had Patti and Lisa to hang around with, it would also be nice to have a guy around—especially when Jordan did ask me to join her for things. Because he was right. I would start to feel awkward, in the way.

  “Okay,” I said, nodding. “We can be friends.”

  “Great.” He held out his hand. “Let’s shake on it.”

  But when I slipped my hand into his, felt the strength and warmth of his close over mine, I couldn’t help but worry that I was getting in over my head.

  “So you and Parker, huh?”

  I looked up from the glass shelf I was dusting at H & G to find Nancy staring down at me.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I saw you and Parker sitting in his car last night in the parking lot, so I just figured you and him…” She wiggled her eyebrows and gave me this I-know-what-you’re-up-to-and-aren’t-you-a-lucky-girl grin.

  “No, we’re just friends.”

  “Yeah, right. He’s totally hot. And you’re ‘just friends.’ Give me a break.”

  “Seriously. That’s all we are.”

  “If you say so.”

  She walked off, but her skepticism hung in the air. We were just friends. After we’d made our agreement last night, I’d actually relaxed and enjoyed our midnight snack. The conversation had been pleasant. He’d told me all kinds of stories about his encounters with famous people. He knew everyone, and he talked about them like they were just regular people. I guess because to him they were. I mean, some of these guys were in his “media room” watching football games, cheering the same team he did. Amazing.

  And no wonder Jordan’s dad had given her a credit card. She often went shopping with the stars.

  After I finished dusting, I went to my place behind the cash register. Patti was working the same shift as I was, but she’d been really quiet since I’d arrived.

  “Everything okay?” I asked.

  “I don’t approve of summer flings,” she said tartly without looking at me.

  “Neither do I.”

  “Then why are you having one?”

  “I’m not.”

  “We were going to sit together last night.”

  “I lost you in the crowd.”

  “I saw you sitting with Parker.”

  “Sitting. That’s all we were doing.”

  “You looked pretty chummy to me.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You know, it’s really not your business, but just for the record, we are only friends.”

  That seemed to become my mantra for the afternoon as one person after another dropped by during his or her break and said, “You and Parker, huh?”

  The guy was Mr. Popularity, and suddenly I was his girlfriend.

  By the time Parker actually stopped by to see if I wanted to take my break with him, I was fuming.

  “Everyone thinks there’s something going on between us,” I said, as we sat at the miniature table outside the Gingerbread Man and munched on our peanut-butter cookies. “It’s a regular episode of The OC around here.”

  “What difference does it make what everyone thinks? We know what’s what.”

  “How can it not bother you that people are talking about us and not even interested in hearing the truth?”

  He reached across and laid his hand over mine where it rested on the table. “Megan, I grew up with gossip and tabloids. All that matters is that we know the truth. I’m not going to waste energy tryi