He was getting old. He hadn’t really noticed it before but he did now. When the waitress didn’t look any older than twelve and he didn’t recognize a single Top 40 hit, he couldn’t deny it—he was past his prime.

The cheeseburger was sinfully delicious. The French fries were just the way he liked them—hot and salty. He savored the sweet, thick shake and couldn’t remember a meal he’d enjoyed more.

Wrong.

No point in trying to fool himself. Any meal with Jamie would’ve been better. He missed her. He missed their early-morning conversations and the sound of her laughter. He missed the intimacy they shared as they talked about their child.

Their child.

Paul’s three-year-old twin sons had been up and about for part of Saturday night, racing around the house in their Spider-Man pajamas. For an hour or so, Jason had played cards holding Ryan on his lap, while Rich held a squirming Ronnie. Rich had always enjoyed being with his young nephews, but he hadn’t truly appreciated them until that evening. If all went well, within a year’s time he’d be holding a son or daughter of his own. That had filled him with an electrified anticipation. He’d managed to contain those feelings, not knowing what was happening between him and Jamie. But he’d know soon. They were going to clear the air.

When he’d first mentioned marriage, Jamie had been afraid, full of dire predictions that sex would ruin their friendship.

He’d agreed with her then, and he did now. They were in danger of ruining everything unless they acknowledged their feelings in a mature, honest manner. Their night together had redefined their relationship, taking them from friends to lovers.

What a discovery they’d made.

What a mess they’d made.

He knew he should never have made love to her, but try as he might, Rich couldn’t make himself regret it. If he suffered any remorse, it was that it had taken an argument to realize how much he cared for Jamie.

He’d been in love with her for years, only he hadn’t known it. They’d had a special friendship all that time, and they now had a chance to have even more. Rich didn’t want to say or do anything that would jeopardize their marriage or their friendship.

Things hadn’t gone well when he’d phoned her Monday afternoon. The tension during that call still made him wince. Rich had said none of what he’d wanted to say, nor had he done anything to assure her of his love. Jamie had sounded stilted and uncertain. The conversation was over almost before it started—although at least it had ended on a lighter note. Thank goodness for ice cream.

He’d been tempted to call her again several times since, but decided it would be best to wait until they could meet face-to-face. There was less likelihood of misunderstandings that way.

Rich had done a lot of thinking about what he needed to tell her. First, they had to put aside any pettiness, let go of any jealousy, vanquish any fears. Then they’d discuss their feelings. If the conversation went the way he hoped it would, he’d go home with her and spend the night.

Why not?

They were married. It didn’t make sense for Jamie to get pregnant by artificial means when they were fully capable of doing it naturally.

Capable and eager.

He didn’t plan to bring that up right away, of course, but he planned to let her know it was what he wanted.

During the remaining time he spent waiting for her, Rich entertained several ways of handling their discussion. Furthermore, he felt they should seriously consider moving in together. Since Jamie owned her place, it would be sensible for him to make the switch, but they’d eventually buy a house.

He was mulling over which neighborhood would suit them when Jamie walked into The Cookie Jar, wearing a full-length navy blue coat.

“Hi. I’m not late, am I?” she asked, slipping into the seat opposite him.

She looked so good. Rich had trouble keeping his eyes off her. “No…no.” He summoned the waitress and asked Jamie what she’d like.

“Hot tea, please,” Jamie said, smiling up at the teenager.

“Coffee for me,” he told the waitress.

“You want your chocolate sundae now?” he asked.

Jamie shook her head. “No, thanks. I’m still recuperating from the flu.” She folded her hands primly in her lap, her gaze avoiding his.

This wasn’t as promising as Rich had hoped. “So you’re still battling the bug?” Now that she mentioned it, she did look pale.

She nodded, her gaze following their waitress.

“They sure are young these days, aren’t they?” he said, his eyes following hers.

She glanced at him as though she didn’t understand what he meant. Rich motioned toward the teenager.

Jamie nodded, her eyebrows raised. “Pretty, too.”

Rich hadn’t noticed. A sixteen-year-old in braces did nothing for him. Jamie on the other hand sent his senses into orbit. All he had to do, he reminded himself, was be honest with her. Honesty led to intimacy—which led to the bedroom.

The girl brought their coffee and tea, smiling demurely. Jamie returned her smile and picked up the sugar container, shaking some into her tea and stirring it briskly. Rich couldn’t remember her using sugar before, but this wasn’t the time to mention it.

“I wanted to talk about what happened Friday night,” he said, leaning forward, cupping the warm mug in both hands.

“Why?”

“Well, because…” He sipped his coffee before answering. Her question had caught him off guard. “It’s brought another dimension into our relationship.”

“H-how do you feel about…our relationship having another dimension?” Once again she cast her gaze around the room, looking everywhere but at him.

“I think it has the potential to be good,” he said, striving to sound matter-of-fact. If he let on too quickly that he was crazy in love with Jamie, he might scare her off.

“The potential to be good,” she repeated, her voice so low he had to strain to hear her.

“Yes. Unfortunately we weren’t able to discuss it Saturday morning.” Rich watched as Jamie went stiff. He realized she hadn’t liked him leaving and wondered if she’d misinterpreted the situation. He’d do his best to make amends now. “I apologize about heading out early. It might have—”

“Stop.” She raised her hand.

“Stop?”

“There’s no need to apologize. None. The last couple of days at home I’ve had plenty of time to think.”

He nodded in relief. Apparently Jamie had come to the same conclusions as he had. He sipped his coffee and leaned back.

“You were right.”

Rich nodded again. A man always likes to hear the truth.

“Having dinner with Floyd was an error in judgment on my part, although it was completely innocent. After your experience with Pamela, I should’ve understood your feelings. As your friend… I should’ve been able to hear what you were really saying. If there’s any blame to be placed over…over what happened, I want you to know…”

“Blame,” Rich repeated. The word fired his anger, and adrenaline shot into his veins.

“Yes, I just wanted you to know I’m willing to accept the blame.”

Hearing it a second time didn’t improve his disposition. Rich set his mug back on the table with enough force to slosh coffee over the edges. “No one said anything about placing or accepting blame. If that’s what you’re here to do, I suggest we end this discussion right now.”

“I was just trying to—”

“Then don’t.”

Jamie’s gaze fell to her mug of tea, cradled between her hands. From the rise and fall of her shoulders, Rich could see how hard she was trying to avoid another argument.

He was too angry to make the effort. Blame. She wanted to allot blame for the most fantastic night of his life. Hers, too, but she was too proud to admit it.

Everything he’d hoped to accomplish—making this marriage real, moving in together, buying a home and creating a child, a son or daughter who’d be born from their love—seemed to disappear before his eyes. He’d longed for this meeting, hoped it would give them a way to move naturally from being friends to being lovers. Married lovers.

“I’ve done it again,” she whispered.

“Done what?”

“Made you mad.”

He knew it hadn’t been her intention to offend him. Judging by the bewildered look in her eyes, she didn’t understand why he felt angry.

“It’s happened already, hasn’t it?” Her words were so shaky, Rich half expected her to break into tears. “We’ve killed our friendship.”

“Not necessarily.” She looked pale, and here he was, furious with her, when all he wanted to do was take her in his arms.

“I knew this would happen,” she said with sigh. “Marriage just isn’t going to work. Our feelings are all muddled up…we hardly know how to act around each other anymore.”

Rich sat silent and morose. What she said was true.

“What do you suggest?” he asked after a while.

“I … I don’t know. I thought I knew what I wanted. Now I’m not sure.”

Rich didn’t know, either. He wanted her as his wife, but he needed to be positive that she shared his feelings. What man didn’t need that type of reassurance? It had all seemed so straightforward earlier. Now he was floundering.

“Do you feel up to walking?” he asked.

His question obviously surprised Jamie, but she nodded.

“Good.” Rich reached for their tab, then left some money on the table.

They were in the old neighborhood now. The brick two-story high school they’d once attended was two blocks over. By tacit agreement they headed in that direction. Jamie wrapped a scarf around her neck and buried her hands in her pockets. Rich did the same, but he would rather have held hands with her.

They’d gone a block before either of them spoke.

“I used to think you were the handsomest boy at school.”

“Me?” Rich laughed. “You certainly didn’t let me know it.”

“I couldn’t. You were vain enough.”

Rich smiled. “I used to wish I had as easy a time with grades as you did.”

“Easy?” she repeated with a short, mocking laugh. “I worked my tail off.”

“Remember our ten-year reunion?”

Jamie nodded. “You were with some blonde. You always went for blondes, didn’t you?”

He ignored her remark. “You were with that guy who looked like David Letterman,” he said.

“Ralph was a nice guy.”

“Nice and dull.” Rich didn’t know why he’d bothered to bring Elaine. He’d much rather have spent the evening with Jamie. As it was, they’d danced nearly every dance together.

“At least all of Ralph’s brains weren’t located below his neckline.”

“Speaking of which,” Rich said, grinning boyishly.

Jamie whirled around to face him, her eyes spitting fire. “Don’t you dare bring up the size of my bust. Don’t…you dare.”