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  She scootched back and spread her legs. "Get to work. I'll quiz you. Thirty-six."

  Evan held her pelvis, possessive. "Six. Too easy." He licked.

  "Okay. Damn that's good. Okay, six hundred twenty-five."

  He dipped a fingertip inside her, and what math recall she had fled. "Still too easy. Twenty-five. Which is how many times I want you to scream my name today."

  He had no clue how close she was to doing just that. Or maybe he did. Maybe his genius fingers were thrusting in rhythm with his mouth's ministrations because he could sense the scream buried in her throat, the one that fought clear of her teeth and prised open her jaw. She couldn't hold it. She didn't try, just let it explode into the air as she flew apart, limbs like shrapnel across the bed.

  Before she'd recovered from the percussive shock, he was thrusting. She gathered herself, bracing her arms for support as she spread wide to take in the whole of his cock.

  Evan was intent, fingers locked on her hips as he pistoned, eyes diamond and coal at once. He was muttering, but enunciating, making sure she could hear. "Three sixty-one. Three twenty-four. Two eighty-nine. Two fifty-six. Two twenty-five," he came in at angle and she gasped his name.

  He gasped some in reply, but set his jaw and continued. "One ninety-six. One sixty-nine. Jesus. Sixty-nine. That's--eight something. Eight and a bit. God, Nat, I'm going to look up the square fucking root of sixty-nine and we're going to fuck while I tell you what it is and oh, hell, yes."

  She lost his train of thought, but that was okay, because she'd lost hers, too. Bright explosive bangs and names, and they splayed together on the bed, a tangle heap of lost limbs and lost numbers and newfound plans for more.

  Oh, hell yes. Evan's heart and lungs were engaged in a freestyle battle for dominance over his body. His brain had checked out of the competition. It was all whoops and cheers and incoherence. He buried his nose in Natalie's slick-soft neck, inhaling her. "I could get used to this."

  "I might not have the energy to get used to this. Next time you only get fifty minutes."

  "Next time you're spending the night. I'm getting some ideas."

  When she shook her head, more strands of her hair wriggled up over his arm. It defied gravity. It was possibly sentient. He wanted more.

  She edged out from under him, back wedged to his headboard. "I can only spend the night if you promise to not review your old algebra notes first."

  "Is it okay if I pull up the geometry tutorials? Some of my ideas are about angles of incidence." He traced a few straight lines across the curves of her stomach.

  Her shoulders hitched. "Thinking about trapezoids, are you?"

  "Bisection. Circumferences." He waggled his eyebrows. "Rotation."

  Her shoulders were outright shaking now, but she kept her voice prim. "Don't be obtuse."

  "What's your point?"

  She yanked a pillow out from under his head and bashed him with it. "You're such a square."

  Evan, reenergized, lunged to trap her in a hug. "Don't go off on a tangent." And then he kissed her before he could get started thinking about symmetry and parallelism and Venn diagrams. Those things and casual friend sex did not add up.

  Chapter Twelve

  To: Natalie East

  From: Evan Lee

  Good Morning

  Say, have you met Natalie East?

  When I'm near her I turn into a beast

  She thinks I am vexed

  Cause she used me for sex

  But honest, I don't mind in the least

  * * *

  To: Evan Lee

  From: Natalie East

  RE: Good Morning

  I hope you didn't write that on your work computer. They probably have keystroke software and now you're going to get fired and where am I going to go for orgasms then? (Note: rhetorical question. I can stay home for them. But they're nice in your bed / shower, too.)

  And I don't think you're vexed. You said I was using you and I was pointing out that it was mutual. Don't turn it into some giant disagreement. I'm not in the business of soothing your precious ego, so no offense, but if we have to spend all this time afterwards negotiating a peace, it's better to stop.

  Okay, you're vexed now, because I'm making too big a deal out of your amusing limerick. By the way, 'vexed' and 'sex' don't rhyme. Change it to 'I know she'll be vexed / If I ask her to sext' and you'll be both accurate and rhyming.

  I've got an early client meeting Wednesday, so tomorrow night's no good for me. How's Wednesday night?

  Later,

  Natalie

  * * *

  Evan scrolled through her message a couple of times, biting his cheek to keep his smile in check. That first conversation with her had been combative, and it eased a tightness in his shoulders to know their naked time hadn't caused peace to break out between them. Playing with fire was so much hotter.

  He wandered down to the copy room and fed the paper on which he'd composed the poem to the shredder. For camouflage he added a handful of extraneous handouts, because he wasn't worried about keystroke software, but he was sure that Raj, his too observant admin, would notice the scratched out lines and list of words rhyming with 'East.'

  "Carter went and told Amanda I was reading up on Houston Health and Housing." Plopping down on the changing room bench, Natalie crossed her legs, and her arms, and Carter's name off her 'give him one last chance' list. Amanda was the broker who owned their agency--the one who'd sponsored both of them when they'd gotten their real estate licenses. Natalie had seniority. She'd passed the exams and become licensed as a broker herself over a year earlier, while Carter was still logging his required hours as an agent. Until recently, she'd never considered going out on her own, or changing agencies, or changing careers. Amanda honored their agreements about her changing percentage, and managed her office staff well.

  But Amanda liked Carter better. It was ridiculous. There were other realtors in the office, some more successful, some more personable, most less convinced than Carter of Natalie's unworthiness. Until he began using his friendship with the boss to undermine Natalie, their low-level antagonism towards each other had been something she could ignore. Now it was a burr digging away at the callus she'd built up regarding her chosen job.

  "Remind me why that's bad?" Gillian said.

  They headed for the elliptical machines, which was good because Nat needed an outlet for her adrenaline. "It wouldn't be, except Amanda runs pre-purchase classes through Main Street Community, so she advocates for involvement with HUD programs through them."

  "Are they competitors?"

  "They're both non-profits with similar missions. Both help low-income families learn the ropes of home ownership and navigate the buying process."

  "So why aren't you looking for a job with Amanda's group? Can't she help get you on their radar?"

  "I thought about it. And I might, in the end. Evan asked if I was comfortable with Amanda providing the lens through which the people at Main Street would view me, and it made me think. So I investigated other HUD-approved agencies, and I'm impressed with Houston Health and Housing. Turns out I met one of the Trustees a few months ago, so I might call him up for an informational interview. And the asset acquisition woman I talked to is fabulous at quoting statistics. It would all be great, except now Carter's told Amanda, which means she heard his argument that me not investigating Main Street is something she should take personally."

  "He has always been, and will always be, fetid ass-dandruff.”

  "Yep."

  Gill punched the button to raise her incline. "And when did you start asking Evan for advice?"

  Oh, crap. "About that."

  Gillian took a swig of from her water bottle, which saved Natalie from answering right away. Her reprieve couldn't last. "We discussed your job two days ago, and you wouldn't come to the store with me that night. Call me suspicious, but between then and now you seem to have come up with an entirely new plan for homeowner counseling. And yesterday
you were caught making phone calls by Carter. Which can only add up to the fact that you were talking to Evan while I was forced to buy new hiking boots without my human shield."

  "There might be a reason you teach linguistics instead of math."

  "Nice try. We've got six and a half minutes left on these machines, so you'd better start talking."

  Nat watched the end of a garden renovation segment on the television mounted to the ceiling. They'd installed a cedar plank deck, which looked great in photos, but she hoped the owners were prepared for the upkeep. One wet winter could kill all of the project's increase to their property value. Nat mopped her forehead and neck. "Don't freak out."

  "Me?"

  "Funny. Okay, yes, I ditched you to hang out with Evan."

  "Uh-huh. And when you were hanging out with Evan, was he hanging out of his pants?"

  "Gillian! Thanks for the visual."

  "You aren't denying it. And yet, this is the same Evan whose mom has picked out your wedding china, right?"

  "His mom might have picked out the china, but mine would make a forty page scrapbook about our journey to wedded bliss."

  "So it is the same Evan?"

  "Yep. And Elaine isn't going to know anything about it. We’re not dating, it's just physical."

  Gillian nodded. "You've got yourself a side piece. I approve."

  No way could her blush be discernible, what with her usual cardio-induced red face. "Don't tease me. I know you're good at the casual thing, but this is new to me. I like it, I like it a lot, but it's uncharted territory."

  "Come do some free weights with me, and I'll give you my best tips. I'm the expert, after all."

  "Hey. You know I don't judge you. As long as you're having fun and staying safe." Natalie hope she was telling the truth. Gillian's serial dating flew in the face of all of Elaine's maternal lessons, but Nat thought her no-nonsense stance was brave. If things didn't feel right with a guy, even if he looked good on paper, Gillian ended it. Whereas Nat had stuck with Chris until he walked out the door, just because there was no compelling reason to say goodbye. If Chris had proposed--and for too long she had presumed it was their natural next step--her ingrained expectations of the course of their courtship would have overruled her doubts.

  Well, there was a weird thought. She could be spending the summer planning her wedding to Chris, instead of in the midst of a clandestine hot sex arrangement.

  She planted her feet and started in on triceps extensions, pumped about being right where she was.

  Evan stopped by Nineteen West. "I was over talking to Marilyn and someone handed back four tickets to tonight's Astros game. Do you and Leticia want to join us?"

  Luke pulled out his cell and texted. "By 'us' you mean Natalie, right?"

  "Is she a deal breaker?"

  "No, man, she's the draw. Leticia said last night we should all get together again."

  Evan raised his eyebrows. "You two bored with each other already? You should stop spending so much time together."

  "Screw you."

  "Also, you should grow your hair out. The pink ears are a dead giveaway."

  "If you're busy, Leticia and I can just meet Natalie there. You don't have to go."

  "And deprive you of my wit? I wouldn't do that to you guys. Is she in?"

  Luke's phone had chimed; he was typing again. "You're lucky I'll do anything for her." He leaned in to snag two of the tickets from Evan's hand.

  "Hey." Evan waited for Luke to look up. "She's lucky, too, man."

  Obscene gestures at work. What a professional. Like he was one to talk, drafting dirty limericks on the back of a report on Bolivia's GDP.

  He pocketed the remaining tickets and went back to Nineteen South to wrap up the day. He and Nat hadn't planned to meet again until the weekend, but she'd gotten on board pretty fast when he'd asked if she was free for the game. Her initial projection had them meeting every four or five days, and here they were two weeks in, and he was anticipating round six of fucking. He was liking the way she did math.

  He walked along Texas Avenue to the stadium, enjoying the mix of modern buildings, ongoing construction, and older classical-style structures that lent gravitas to the tree-lined, car-filled streets. He was a little warm in his summer weight blazer but not ready to roll up his shirt sleeves just yet. Nat admired his suits, he'd seen it in the way she eyed him, and he'd pulled off a perfect Eldredge knot in his favorite burgundy tie that morning. She was waiting for him beside the baseball-painted concrete barriers outside the home plate entrance, a standout in the crowd of after-work downtown types and casual summer family and friend groups. Her hair was tamed in that relentless chignon, but the breeze played games with her sleeveless silk shell. The bronze top and raw linen trousers made her glow in the late-evening sun, her cherry-red flats and chunky necklace delicious bursts of color. He swallowed back his hungry remarks, settling for a kiss to her cheek.

  "How was your day?"

  "Great. Even better now."

  "Oh, what good things were in it besides me?"

  She tucked her hand into his. "You're so arrogant. I had a trivial triumph is all. Amanda put my listing on the cover of the new mailing."

  "Hey, that's not trivial."

  "It's sweet, I admit. It's that Museum District duplex. It'll sell itself, so it's not quite as momentous as when she green lights one of the trickier properties."

  "Still worth celebrating." Just inside the Union Station entrance, he found a semi-private recess behind the escalators up to the concourse level. She slipped into his arms as if she, too, had been looking for a chance to lock their lips. Kissing Nat was distracting. He had a scrap of awareness that he shouldn't be pulling her body against his, and she shouldn't be using his jacket as cover for her nails to dig into his ass. The rest of him was all about the smooth curve of her shoulders and the deliberate thrust of her tongue against his and the hot tight pounding of his blood. She moved her hands to his chest, fiddled with his tie as he backed off enough to look at the breasts he'd rather be touching.

  "Heaven help us if you have anything worth celebrating, too," she said.

  "We'd rival the post-game fireworks."

  "Home run!"

  Reaching up to loosen his tie, he brushed his palm over the backs of her hands. "And here I'm just desperate to get to second base."

  "Stop tempting me. I'm already thinking of ditching Leticia and dragging you back to my place."

  Closing his eyes to savor the image, Evan nodded. "Smart. Good plan. Let's go."

  Instead of heading to the exit, she took his hand and walked them to the escalator line.

  Evan asked, "Did you drive here?"

  "I did. And I'm going to get value out of my fifteen dollar parking space, so stop trying to turn me around." She squeezed his fingers, which felt a whole lot like benediction. He squeezed back.

  "It's not like I even like baseball that much."

  "Sorry, that won't work. Your dad told me you made varsity your junior year."

  "My dad's a loud mouth. That was high school. I've changed since high school."

  "And I saw the cleats in your closet."

  She loved busting his balls. He knew she had some idea that it kept him in his place as friend-not-boyfriend, but every time she ragged on him he just got fonder of her. Not that he had any intention of crossing the line. He liked the line. He deserved the line. He was a good guy. He worked hard. He did charitable things. He gave thoughtful presents to his nieces and nephews. There was nothing wrong with his reveling in no-strings sex with a hot, eager, intelligent, laughing woman. Nothing at all.

  She nudged him with her shoulder. "I want Tex-Mex. El Real chicken fajitas. And nachos."

  "Tacos aren't ballpark food."

  "And beer and a pretzel."

  "Okay, that's better. But I'm getting a foot-long."

  "It figures." She paused. "I mean, pigures."

  "You really relish puns."

  "Don't you mean buns?"


  "I relish your buns." He snuck in a squeeze to her butt as they skirted a clump of people to reach the food vendor she wanted. She swatted him away, but leaned up for a quick kiss before placing her order. He held her food as they located the stall with his pulled pork sliders, which she ended up paying for because he couldn't put down her Tex-Mex in time to extract his wallet. And she resisted making another pig joke, but still pointed out her admirable restraint. By the time they sat next to Luke and Leticia, shuffling various food and drink items back and forth until they ended up with the correct dinners, Evan was afraid he'd have to grow out his own hair. Luke was giving him a look that promised further teasing about his relationship would earn payback.

  Midway through the fifth inning, Evan made his way back to their seats with a pretzel and beers in time to catch Leticia asking Natalie about the bank's Fourth of July party.

  "Am I supposed to wear a cocktail dress? Or is it more casual? I mean, we'll be watching fireworks and all, but it's not exactly picnic tables and grilling burgers at the park, which, and no offense to you fancy bankers, is the right way to celebrate Independence Day. What are you wearing?"

  Her eyes widened as she looked from Leticia to him, but she sounded relaxed and conspiratorial when she told Leticia, "I haven't decided. Want to go shopping and get matching red, white, and blue halter tops?"

  "Can I second that motion? I second that motion," Luke said.

  Leticia snugged herself into the curve of his arm. "Dream on, my man. My first encounter with your coworkers? I'm going to make a good impression."

  "You will. Everyone will see instantly that you're great."

  Aw. The guy’s ears didn't even go pink with that cornball line, Evan thought. He turned to exchange smirks with Natalie, but the green glint in her eye wasn't amusement. He handed over the pretzel and his apology. "I was going to talk to you about all that later tonight."

  At the first pitch, the four of them shared friendly, low pressure conversations.