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next time you go out with an eligible, handsome, employed man, you gotta keep me informed. I don’t want to have to find out from my little brother what slutty things you’ve been doing.”
    Olivia choked on her water, some of it sputtering out of her mouth and running down her chin. Emma just sat and stared at her, that all-knowing raised eyebrow mocking her, as Olivia mopped up the mess on her face. After Olivia had gotten control of her coughing, Emma cleared her throat, and Olivia waited for the inevitable press from her about what had happened with Ian. Or, rather, what Olivia was sure was written in her eyes about what she wished had happened with him.
    Instead, Emma gave her a smile. “It’s Brandt, by the way. And, God, Liv, the things that man can do with his tongue... If I could marry just that, I totally would.”
    Olivia watched as Emma melted right before her eyes, and for once she was thankful that the conversation had turned to her best friend’s sex life instead of staying focused on her.

Chapter Six
    After her brunch with Emma, Olivia spent her day doing anything she could but calling Ian. She did some shopping, picking up a new pair of boots for the coming fall. Then she stopped in her favorite bookstore and lost herself in a new book for an hour or so. Once she was done there, she went home and cleaned every surface she could. Finally, when nine o’clock rolled around, she knew she’d delayed as long as she could. She didn’t know why she was putting off talking to him. It wasn’t as if anything had actually happened between them, and he could have no way of knowing the naughty thoughts that had been flitting through her head. She just needed to play this cool, needed to be herself and everything would be fine. Grabbing her phone, she pressed number three on her speed dial and waited for Ian to pick up.
    “Hello?” His voice sounded gritty, sort of sexy, and that caught her off guard. She’d never before associated either of those things with Ian. But somehow, since that switch had been flipped in her brain the day before, she couldn’t help but think of him that way.
    “Um, hi,” she stammered—another first for her. God, she was acting like a love-struck teenager instead of the professional thirty-something woman she was. Shaking her head, she told herself to snap out of it. It was just Ian, just the boy she and Emma used to babysit on Saturdays. Just the boy who’d held her so close last night, pressed to his tight, hard body...
    “I knew you wouldn’t be able to let the table dancing thing go.” He chuckled, dragging her out of her lust-filled daydreams.
    “Well, put me out of my misery already, would you?” She curled her legs under her as she settled onto the couch. “Did I or did I not dance on a bunch of tables like a drunken slut who can’t hold her liquor?”
    Ian barked out a laugh, and the sound was a welcome comfort. She smiled, a couple giggles slipping out.
    “When you put it like that, no, you did not behave like a slutty, rookie drinker. You might have requested the deejay play the Macarena and then proceeded to lead the dance for the entire wedding party, but that was the extent of your drunken mishaps.”
    Well, on the scale of all the horrible things she’d ever done while drunk, that didn’t nearly rank up as high as one might think. She exhaled a relieved breath. “Oh, thank God. Promise me , Ian,” she implored. “Promise me that you will do anything in your power to stop any drunken table—or lap, for that matter—dances.”
    “Oh, well, you didn’t mention anything about lap dances,” he said seriously. “I hate to tell you this, but Maurine’s uncle Frank got quite the show after your sixth martini.”
    “Shut up.” She softened her harsh words with laughter. “I swear that man is a filthy pervert. How do you even try to be coy while attempting to cop a feel over twenty yards of tulle?”
    As he chuckled along with her, she relaxed. This was