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and he wouldn’t pretend otherwise. But because he didn’t want her to change her mind, he retreated a little. “What time do you get off work?”
    “Depends. I’m a photographer, and if we have a big shoot to do, it can run over. But usually nine to five.”
    “A photographer, huh? Like in a studio?”
    She nodded. “Picture This.”
    He’d seen the kitschy studios in malls. “Those places are everywhere, right?”
    “Just like fast-food chains.” She made a face. “If I can save enough money, I hope to have my own, classier place someday.”
    That disclosure surprised Brett. “A great goal. I’m sure you’ll get there.”
    As if she only then realized that she’d shared a dream, she straightened. “Anyway, Mondays are usually light, Fridays are insane. The rest of the week is somewhere in between.”
    So she didn’t work weekends? Good to know. And since he usually stayed in the gym till five, her hours meshed with his. “Let’s say six o’clock, Monday. Can I pick you up?”
    “No.” She laughed as if the idea were absurd, then caught herself and cleared her throat. “I’ll just meet you here. Out in front of the bar, I mean.”
    Rather than push his luck, Brett nodded. “Already looking forward to it.” After handing out the rest of her flyers to the diners, who set them aside without really looking at them, Brett walked her back out front to rejoin her friends.
    To the women waiting, he made a show of holding up his empty hands, proof that he’d kept his word. Impressed that he’d given out all the flyers, the ladies made a show of congratulating him. Millie moved protectively to Audrey, as if she’d just returned from war, and spoke quietly with her. But Audrey must have reassured her, because after a quick and private conversation, Millie relaxed with a smile.
    That one, Brett decided, was a true mother hen. But it didn’t bother him; since he’d grown up without it, he’d always considered protectiveness to be a good quality. And if Audrey had friends who cared so much for her, it spoke of what a good person she was.
    Brett bid them all a good night and headed for his truck. He’d have some questions to answer later, if any of the guys bothered to read the flyer. Though even if they didn’t look closely, he didn’t know how anyone could miss the headline:
    STOP THE VIOLENCE. BAN THE SBC NOW!
    Imagining Drew’s reaction, Brett couldn’t help but chuckle. Joining the SBC had already been interesting. Now, with Audrey Porter in the picture, he had even more to look forward to.
     
     
    GILLIAN arrived at Drew’s impressive home at six o’clock sharp. She had to knock twice before he answered, and then he came to the door looking as if he’d just stepped out of the shower. Naked except for a medium-size towel that barely reached around his hips, he held the door open for her.
    She gaped. She looked at her watch, frowned, and made her attention go to his face—instead of his chest or shoulders or, God forbid, his tight abdomen. “You did say today, at six, yes?”
    “Yeah, yeah, six. Come on in. I had some shit run over so I’m behind a little. No big deal.”
    She maintained her position on the other side of the door. “If you need to reschedule . . .”
    Loosely holding the towel together with one hand, he reached out and grabbed her arm to haul her in. “Quit acting like you’ve never seen a naked man before.” He secured the door behind her. “I didn’t buy that shit about you being in your forties, but you’re sure as hell not a blushing schoolgirl, either.”
    He turned away from her, and Gillian saw how the towel parted over his hip, down to his thigh. Her mouth went dry. “This is not at all professional.”
    “Screw professional. Do you know what my schedule is like? No? Well, Loren does, and he still let his pain-in-the-ass sister sic you on me. So if we’re going to do this, we’re going to have to make it work. If you can’t do that . . .”
    He left the