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the corners of his mouth in what, for him, was a pretty good smile. He could do better—I’d seen him grin big and wide on occasion—but it was rare. And devastating when it happens , I thought, remembering times my insides had melted right out of me at the sight of it, starting when Thomas had first brought him home from college (they’d been roommates at Harvard) for Thanksgiving when I was thirteen.
    Good thing he wasn’t bestowing one of those on me right now, because combined with the way he filled out his gym clothes, I’d be a puddle on the floor in no time. A remorseful puddle, berating myself for mental unfaithfulness to my boyfriend. Who wanted to be a remorseful puddle?
    â€œLaura had a last-minute appointment your brother wouldn’t let her cancel, so she asked me to fill in for her. Told me to keep it real, not to go easy on you because you’re a girl.”
    My chest clutched at the thought of getting hot and sweaty rolling around on the floor with Mark. I swallowed hard. “See, what’d I tell you? Sadistic.”
    Mark laughed, a deep rumble I could practically feel vibrating through me from five feet away. “Don’t worry, I won’t break you. Thomas would kill me if I did.”
    Thomas was the brother in question, a lawyer, married to Laura. He’d always been overprotective to the extreme, though he was somewhat better since marrying Laura. One of the many things I loved about her.
    But the ass-kicking wasn’t the kind of sadistic I’d meant. Laura was aware of my conflicted feelings about Mark. She also knew how he felt about me. Talk about star-crossed. Or maybe timing screwed. If Mark had told me his feelings for me had moved beyond a tolerant affection for his best friend’s kid sister before Billy had entered the picture romantically, things might have been different now.
    Yeah, right , I told myself. Then you’d be with Mark and conflicted about Billy. Same boat, different oars. Frankly, it made my head hurt to think about it. I loved Billy, he loved me, we were good together. The simplest solution for all involved was for me to get past my lingering infatuation with Mark.
    What if it’s more than infatuation? my inner buttinski said.
    Shut up! I screamed at her. Inwardly, so Mark wouldn’t call the men in white coats. Even if it’s more, it’s not like I don’t still have to choose one. Which I’ve already done. End of story.
    Yeah? the buttinski said. Ever hear of sequels?
    God, she was such an unhelpful bitch sometimes.
    I shook out my arms and legs, holding myself loose and ready, the way Laura had taught me. “Don’t hold back on my brother’s account. I won’t tell on you.”
    The thing was, Laura wasn’t as sure as I was (and I was ) that I’d chosen the right guy. She adored Billy—nobody could help adoring Billy; he sucked in adoration like a vacuum cleaner—but Mark was her friend and partner, as well as her husband’s best friend. She had a vested interest in seeing him happy. She also had the devious mind of a spook. It wouldn’t be beyond her to devise ways of throwing me together with Mark, figuring the cards would play out the way they were meant to.
    Mark’s eyes flicked over me, taking in my stance, sizing me up in an instant. Calculating, no doubt, how to take me down without inflicting too much damage on me, and maybe teach me a few things at the same time.
    Use the tools you have , Laura had told me a hundred times during our lessons. If you’re not stronger than your opponent—and women rarely are, when their opponent is a man—you have to outsmart him. Leverage is your best option.
    I darted a glance to Mark’s right leg, telegraphing my intent to strike there first. I let my eyes linger a fraction of a second too long, knowing he’d catch it and be ready for me.
    Then I skirted around his left side. Kicked the back of his