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.Unrequited love.It was wrenching to watch.It was painful to contemplate.It was all around her.And then Penn was in her head again, just like he shouldn’t be.The damn man never stayed banished for long.She recalled the tension in his arm, the tick in his jaw, the trampy tart for whom he still carried a torch.Geez, but he had lousy taste in lovers.Present company excepted.“What should we do?” Stevie asked.Giuliana shrugged.“What can we do?”“Just be there for him,” Alessandra mused.“Provide comfort, distraction.” Sex.Oops, there she went thinking about Penn again.But the man hovered in her mind, even as presents were opened, appetizers eaten, a sugary cake consumed.He was still there as she played a few silly shower games, “winning” a plethora of gag gifts, including a pair of velvet handcuffs that she tried to pawn off on Gil, but somehow ended up back in her possession.As Stevie commented, quite the haul for the woman with the worst sex life in the county.And who couldn’t put from her mind a man preoccupied by someone else.Gil figured nothing short of a direct lightning strike would rouse Clare—a long shot since she was passed out in the back of Stevie’s limo.The driver met his gaze in the rearview mirror as she pulled in front of his half of the duplex they shared.“Will you be all right with her?” she asked.“It might take me a while to get back.”“Sure.” There were five other young women slumped in the passenger area under varying influences of alcohol, sugar, and risqué party games.Instead of making the duplex the last stop, however, they’d decided it should be first.If Clare came around during the miles of winding road ahead, the outcome might require a full interior detailing of Stevie’s fancy vehicle.Better to get Clare stationary—and close to the facilities—sooner than later.To that end, he took her up in his arms and carried her from the car to his front door.One of the departing young ladies managed an admiring—if drowsy—yeehaw! of admiration.Clare herself didn’t stir until he placed her gently on his couch.Then, just as he was drawing a blanket over her, she sat up, looking as bright-eyed as morning.“Hey!” She glanced around, her expression puzzled.She pushed the woven fabric aside, revealing the red dress she was wearing.It had drawn his gaze all night, the color as sweet as a cherry Popsicle, the low cut and short skirt something that had made him sweat beneath his calm façade.“Is the party over?” she asked.In more ways than one, he thought, dress going out of his head as he damned Jordan Wilson for his continued silence.When Clare broke it off with her fiancé after she heard the truth, she’d have yet another pre-wedding ritual to regret.“We popped the cork on the last bottle of champagne an hour ago,” Gil told her.She pouted, an action so un-Clare that he couldn’t help but smile.“You had fun,” he said.It was hard to be angry about that.“I like champagne.” Then she frowned, her fingers going to her head.“Is it the bubbles or the ugly truth? Did I really see R2-D2 and C-3PO in wedding wear?”He dropped next to her, now grinning.“Alessandra said they were bride and groom wine bottle covers that she altered for tonight’s event.”“Poor robots,” she said, but it was accompanied by a goofy smile.He shook his head.“Poor Clare.You’re going to have a hell of a hangover tomorrow.”Her cheek landed on his shoulder.“But for now I feel sooo wonderful.”Sliding a hand around her, he tried adjusting her position, which only led her boneless body to half-sprawl over him.That goofy smile lit up her face again as she gazed up.“You wanna hear a secret?”No, and he didn’t want to tell one right now, either.This wasn’t the time.“First rule of over-imbibing: Do not drunk-dial, drunk-text, or drunk-tell.”“I’m not drunk!”Bombed, then.“Okay, baby, whatever you say.”Her smile turned smug.“I love the way you call me baby.” She sang the phrase as a catchy little tune.His heart jolted.“You do?”“It’s from a Gap commercial.” Her eyes closed.“In my favorite ones, the people dance.In khakis, I think.You look scrumptious in khakis.”“ ‘Scrumptious’?” He laughed, because it was a word he’d never imagined in Clare’s vocabulary.“You really are toasted.”She jerked straight, then put her hand to her head as if it was spinning.“The toast! Your toast.I didn’t imagine that either, did I?”He shifted on the cushions.“I don’t know what you mean.Yeah, I gave a toast.Someone told me I had to, being I’m the Man of Honor.” And even knowing everything he knew, he hadn’t been able to find a way out of it.“Say it all again,” Clare demanded.“No.” When she continued staring at him, he shook his head.“No.I don’t even remember—”“I’ll help.” Her voice lowered in a terrible imitation of his own.“ ‘To the girl on the playground.’ ”He groaned.“Clare.”She grabbed one of his hands in both of hers.“Please.If you love me, you’ll say it again.”If you love me.He closed his eyes to savor her touch.“To the girl on the playground, to the girl at the prom.To my friend, to my fellow on this road, to the female in my life who makes me laugh and think and slay all her spiders.” Opening his eyes, he took a breath and then drew the back of his free hand against her warm cheek.“Be happy.Be healthy.And most of all, be yourself.”Clare let go of his hand and fell back against the cushions in a mock swoon.“You’re amazing.Every woman in the room must have fallen to her knees following that little speech.I can’t believe it didn’t get you laid tonight.”“Maybe I still have hopes.”She froze.Damn! Hell! Crap! What had made him say that, and say it in the voice he usually saved for when he had something by Marvin Gaye oozing through the air or his favorite seduction song of all time, “Cyprus Avenue.”Her gaze drifted to one of the silent speakers in the corner of the room.“What? No Van Morrison?”He laughed.Whew.“We’ve been friends too long if you know all my moves.You find them humdrum.”She rolled her head on the cushion to look at him, her blue eyes a little sleepy now.“I don’t know about that.When I was considering who could be my last single girl fling, the only one who came to mind was you.”It was his turn to freeze.“Come again?”“Last.Single.Girl.Fling.” A pause.“You.”Reserved, quiet Clare wouldn’t dream of a last single girl fling.But if she did, wouldn’t she wish for a fling with.Her best friend.The Man of Honor.Of course she would.He was the one whose refusal she counted upon
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