“There you go again,” she murmured. “I think part of my thing here is a direct result of my sexual moratorium.”

Amused, he tipped up his beer. “How’s that going for you?” “All too well. I’m probably a little more—what’s the delicate term? Itchy, more itchy than usual these days.”

“In the spirit of friendship I could take you upstairs and help you scratch that itch. But that doesn’t really work for me.”

She started to say she could scratch her own itch, thanks all the same, but decided that was too much information, even between friends. So she shrugged instead.

“It’s not like Jack and Emma,” he said.

“Jack and Emma aren’t scratching an itch. They’re—”

“Simmer down, Quickdraw,” he said mildly. “That’s not what I meant.They were friends—are friends—but they became friends, what, ten or twelve years ago? That’s a long time, but you and I? It’s basically our whole lives. We’re not just friends, we’re family. Not in an illegal and incestuous way that makes this conversation creepy, but family. Tribal,” he decided. “We’re from the same tribe, you could say.”

“Tribal.” She tried it out. “You have been thinking about this. And I can’t disagree with you about any of that.”

“Which is a nice change. We’re talking about changes, and not just for us, but for, well, the tribe.”

“I bet you get to be chief.” With her elbow on the table, she propped her chin on her hand. “You always get to be chief.”

“You can be chief if you can beat me arm-wrestling.”

She was strong—she prided herself on it. But she also knew her limits. “And being tribal chief you’ve already decided how this should go.”

“I have what you could call an outline. What would be a draft of an outline.”

“You’re so like Parker. Maybe that’s part of it. If Parker were a guy, or we were both g*y, we’d be married. Which would mean I’d never have to date again. My annoyance thereof the key cause for the sexual moratorium. And very likely this conversation.”

“Do you want to hear the outline?”

“Yes, but I’m passing on the quiz that follows.”

“We give it a month.”

“Give what a month?”

“The adjustment. Seeing each other this way. We go out, stay in, have conversations, socialize, engage in recreational activities. We date, like people do when they’re easing into a different dynamic. And, given the tribal connection, and given what I assume is a mutual desire to limit potential damage to our current connection—”

“Now who’s the lawyer?”

“Given that,” he went on,“though it gives me no pleasure, literally, we continue the sexual moratorium.”

“You’d also be in a sexual moratorium?”

“Fair’s fair.”

“Hmm.” She switched from beer to water. “We do all the stuff normal, consenting, unattached adults do with each other, but no sex, with each other or anyone else?”

“That’s the idea.”

“For thirty days.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“Why the thirty?”

“It’s a reasonable time line for both of us to determine if we want to take it to the next step. It’s a big step, Laurel. You matter too much to me to rush it.”

“Dating’s harder than sex.”

He laughed. “Who the hell have you been dating? I’ll try to make it easy for you. How about we catch a movie after the event on Sunday? Just a movie.”

She angled her head. “Who picks the flick?”

“We’ll negotiate. No tearjerker.”

“No horror.”

“Agreed.”

“Maybe you should draw up a contract.”

He took the dig with a shrug. “If you’ve got a better idea, I’m open.

“I don’t have any idea. I never thought we’d get to a point where I would need an idea. How about we just sleep together and call it even?”

“Okay.” When her mouth dropped open, he grinned. “I not only know you, but I know a bluff when I hear one.”

“You don’t know everything.”

“No, I don’t. I think that’s part of it, and I guess we’d better take some time and find out. I’m in if you are.”

She studied the attractive and familiar face, the calm eyes, the easy posture. “We’ll probably want to murder each other half the time.”

“That won’t be anything new In or out, Laurel?”

“In.” She offered a hand to close the deal.

“I think this calls for more than a handshake.” But he took her hand, used it to draw her to her feet along with him. “Plus we should see what it’s like when neither of us is irritated.”

A little frisson, as much anticipation as nerves, jittered up her spine. “Maybe I am.”

“No. No little crease here.” He skimmed a fingertip between her eyebrows. “Dead giveaway.”

“Wait,” she said when he ran his hands down her arms. “Now I’m self-conscious. It’s no good if I’m thinking too much and—”

He shut her up, drawing her in and up to brush his lips over hers in slow, soft sweeps.

“Or,” she murmured, and let her hands glide up from his shoulders until her arms could link around his neck.

More surprises, he thought, when there was warmth and exploration instead of just heat and impulse. Sweet and easy wrapped in layers of the familiar and the new. He knew her scent, her shape, but the taste of her, ripe and seductive, merged what was into what might be.

He took his time, drawing it out, drawing her in, to savor the new mix of sensations.

She poured herself into it, taking every ounce of the moment she’d imagined dozens of times. A dying day, soft lights, the quiet sigh of a summer breeze. Foolish fancies of a young girl’s crush, longings transformed over time into a woman’s need.

Now the fancies were real, the longings met. And in the kiss she felt his need rise with hers. Whatever happened, this moment, this dying day, would always be hers.

When their lips parted, he stayed close. “How long do you think that’s been in there?” he wondered.