At roll call the next morning, Angi was surprised when Kelsey told her she wanted to go to Gianelli's on a non-Tuesday night. Kelsey explained that since she hadn’t been able to get there last night, she had to make up for it. Angi never turned down a chance to go out, so she didn't argue.

That evening, as Kelsey left her apartment building and walked toward the bar, she played the night before with Brett over and over in her mind, just as she’d done about a hundred times that day already. He hadn’t pushed to stay with her last night, even though she could tell he wanted to. He’d simply suggested that they should try for Gianelli’s again since she’d gotten waylaid taking care of Ricky. Then he’d given her a goodnight kiss and left.

She tried to tell herself one more time that he was all part of a master plan, that he was a devious, opportunistic womanizer who didn't stop until he got what he wanted, but that ship had sailed. Instead she pictured his face as he looked down at her and offered to beat the crap out of somebody on her behalf. No, he wouldn't actually do it. But the sincerity in his eyes when he said it would stick with her for some time to come.

When Kelsey reached the roadblocks, she stopped and considered her options. She could walk three blocks out of her way, or she could skirt them and head straight for her destination. When her heart pounded at the very thought of not obeying the signs, she realized just how tired she was of being a rule‑follower.

Live a little. Risk that misdemeanor.

She edged around them and hurried along the street, where big pipes rested on the sidewalk, waiting to be installed. Her heels clicked against the pavement, the sound reverberating off the towering buildings. She imagined those tiny noises alerting the SWAT guys, who would race around the corner, rappel off skyscrapers, and leap from armored vehicles to chase her down and bring her to justice. But all she got in the end was a much faster walk to her destination. When she scooted between the roadblocks at the other end of the street, she took a deep breath of exhilaration. There. She’d done it. It felt good.

No, it felt great.

She walked another half block to Gianelli’s. As she came through the door, she saw Angi on her usual barstool. Then she spied Brett behind the bar. Excitement swept over her, and the very air she breathed seemed filled with possibilities.

Then she saw who he was talking to.

Elena sat at the far end of the bar, and Brett was showering her with his usual megawatt smile as he poured her a glass of white wine. She returned his smile, but even from across the room, Kelsey could see just how predatory that smile was.

Kelsey hated this. Hated it. Women like Elena had always made her feel as if she'd forgotten to show up the day God handed out beauty, wit, and sexiness. When Kelsey saw Brett with a woman like her, she felt like a total outcast. She slid onto the stool beside Angi.

“Look at that,” Angi said. “Elena’s on the prowl again. And Brett sure is smiling a lot. I guess he’s on the rebound since you got pissed at him about the clothes thing.”

All at once Kelsey felt like a fool. She’d assumed everything was good between her and Brett. Maybe it was. But maybe things weren’t exclusively good between them?

Then Brett turned around. The moment he met her eyes, his expression of generalized hospitality changed into something completely different. His mouth tilted into a tiny, knowing smile. He walked toward her, his smile growing brighter with each step. Leaning across the bar, he slid his hand along the back of her neck, pulled her to him, and gave her a kiss.

A kiss.

A kiss? Right out there in front of the whole world?

Okay, so technically the whole world wasn’t sitting at Gianelli’s right then, but it felt that way to Kelsey. She glanced at Elena, who had a look of utter disbelief on her face. Kelsey wanted to say that she didn't enjoy that, but she did. A lot.

“I’ll bring you your usual,” Brett murmured.

“No,” she said. “Give me one of those pinky-blue things.”

His smile lit the entire room. “Coming right up.”

As he walked away, Angi was having a hard time picking her jaw up off the floor. “Holy crap. What’s up with you two?”

“What do you mean?"

"You're seeing him again?"

"Uh…yeah."

"And you didn't tell me?"

"I guess it just didn't come up."

"Are you kidding me? This is big!"

"We're just having fun. That's all."

There it was again. The "F" word. She was definitely making progress toward being a free and easy person who didn't have a care in the world. Baby steps, but progress just the same.

"Fun?" Angi said. "What does that mean? Are you sleeping with him?"

"You sure ask a lot of questions."

"Okay, then. Forget sex. Something bigger is going on here, anyway. He kissed you in public."

"So a kiss is bigger than sex?"

"Come on, Kelsey! You know what I mean. Paul barely kisses me when we have sex, much less outside the bedroom." Angi looked positively perplexed. “I don't get it. I thought you were going to hate him forever."

“I changed my mind.”

“No. That’s wrong. You never change your mind. About anything. If you think something, you think it for life.”

Kelsey laughed. “That’s insane.”

“I know! That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you since the day I met you!” Then she turned and looked across the bar. "Ha!" she whispered. "Look at Elena. She's not liking this one little bit."

Kelsey turned to see that Elena had tugged her stretchy top down to within inches of her nipples, and now she was leaning forward in such a way that anyone in the place could see down her cleavage all the way to China. But instead of stopping to admire the spectacular monuments that were her breasts, Brett simply poured her another glass of Chardonnay and moved on down the bar.

Elena tossed back a hefty swig of her wine, staring back and forth between Kelsey and Brett, her brows drawn together with confusion. Kelsey imagined the justification running through her mind. She has some kind of superpower over Brett. Or maybe he owes her money and she's taking it out in sex. No! I know! She made a deal with the devil!

Paul slid onto the stool next to Angi. “Hey, did I just see Brett kiss Kelsey?”

“Yeah,” Angi said.

His face flatlined with shock. Then he leaned toward Kelsey, his eyes alight. “Wow. Just how good in bed are you?”

Angi slapped his arm. “Will you shut up? That’s awful!” Then she turned to Kelsey and whispered, “Just how good in bed are you?”

The old Kelsey would have taken great offense at the suggestion that it was nothing but her sexual prowess that caught and held any man. But now all she did was smile and say nothing, which she could tell drove Angi crazy.

"Fine," Angi said. "Don't tell me your secret. But there's something big going on when Elena's practically stripping naked in front of Brett, and all he does is look at you. Weren’t you the one who said opposites don't belong together?"

Kelsey shrugged. "Maybe I was wrong."

"Did you just say you were wrong?"

"I said maybe."

"Close enough." Angi turned to Paul. "It's official. The pod people came in the middle of the night and took the real Kelsey away."

Kelsey couldn't deny it. After all, ever since Brett had come into her life, she did feel like an entirely different person.

"Aren't you supposed to be working?" Angi asked Paul.

"Yeah." Then he looked at Brett and frowned. “I don't know how I feel about him being promoted to manager."

“What do you mean?” Kelsey asked.

“He knows how many smoke breaks I take and how many times I'm late for my shift. He'd better not turn into one of those dictatorial assholes who nitpicks the crap out of his employees, or I'm out of here."

"Brett?" Angi said. "Really?"

“A lot of people have been here longer than he has, including me," Paul said, eyeing Brett. "Just because he fills in sometimes for Jerry doesn't mean he's the right guy for the job permanently. So why did Jerry give it to him?"

“He does have a Master’s degree,” Kelsey said. “Education counts for a lot.”

"There!” Paul murmured. “Did you see that? Brett just gave me a dirty look."

Actually, no, he hadn't. And Kelsey would know, since she'd watched pretty much every breath he'd taken since the moment she walked through the door.

"Well, your shift did start ten minutes ago," Angi said.

"Yeah, okay," Paul said. "But I'm telling you—I don't have a good feeling about this."

As Paul headed for the kitchen, Angi turned to Kelsey. "So what are the odds?"

"Of what?"

"Brett turning into a dictatorial asshole."

Kelsey laughed. "Brett? No. Trust me. He won't turn into one of those."

"Yeah, I don't think it'll happen, either," Angi said. “Still, anytime friends supervise friends, there's a really good chance the friendship will go by the wayside."

That could happen. But if it did, how solid was the friendship to start with?

"So how are things going with you and Paul?" Kelsey asked.

Angi sighed. "It's a little weird."

"How so?"

"Well, his ex-wife came by his apartment the other night when I was there. She said when they broke up, Paul took their melon baller, and she wanted it back. Can you believe it? Who even uses a melon baller, much less goes across town to retrieve one?"

"A crazy woman who watches too many shows on the Food Network?"

"I think it was just a ploy so she could see him."

"Didn't she ask for the divorce?"

"Now, there you go again, trying to be logical. This woman is not logical."

"How did Paul feel about her coming by?"

"Well, he let her shout about the melon baller for about five minutes before he told her he didn't think he had it. That didn't stop her. She went to his kitchen drawers and started digging through them."

"While you were sitting right there in his apartment?"

"Yeah. She was either blind, or I was invisible. Or she just didn't give a damn."

"Or she's nuts."

"Well, there is that."

"Did she find the melon baller?" Kelsey asked.

"No, but the whole time she was looking for it, Paul was staring at her ass."

"So you think he still has a thing for her?"

"I don't know. She does have a pretty nice ass. Screwed up brain, but a nice ass."

"I thought he was afraid of her."

"He is. But I read an article on the Psychology Today website about fear. It said it can be a real catalyst for sexual excitement."

"In other words, the more afraid of her he is, the hotter he gets?"

"Yeah. The next time he comes over, I'm considering sharpening my kitchen knives and staring at him with a freaky gleam in my eye. Maybe then he'll look at my ass."

“Or call 911.”

“At least then I’ll know he’s paying attention.” Angi sighed. "Then before his ex-wife left, my cloak of invisibility must have lifted, because she pointed at me and told me I was crazy for hanging around with a man who would steal a melon baller. That if a man would take a melon baller from a woman, what other terrible things might he do? Then Paul watched her ass all the way out the door."

Kelsey shook her head. Brett was right about Paul. Angi could do better.

An hour passed. Then two. The bar was busy, with lots of commotion and hordes of people coming and going. Even after Angi left, Kelsey stayed. When she reached her two-drink maximum, she started sipping iced tea as she watched the game on the TV over the bar. Slowly the crowd thinned out, and then Brett spent most of his time after that chatting with her. When the game was over, she asked him for her check, but he suggested she hang around for a little while longer so they could walk home together. This time the thought of doing that actually made her happy.

What a difference a few weeks made.

As they left Gianelli’s, the night air felt cool and crisp, and a gentle breeze swirled around them. When they reached the road construction, Brett didn’t even hesitate before making a right turn down the street perpendicular to it.

“So we’re taking the detour?” she asked.

“Of course. We can’t walk through the construction zone. I’ve heard it’s dangerous.”

“I do believe you’re mocking me.”

“Not at all. I may have to admit that you’re right about that.”

She opened her mouth to tell him she’d done just the opposite on the way there, only to close it again. No sense rocking the boat when he’d come around to her point of view, right?

Funny thing, though. She’d also started coming around to his.

"Nice night," Brett said, gradually slowing his pace until it became a casual stroll. Normally Kelsey felt the urge to get from point A to point B with military efficiency, but something about the darkness and the autumn breeze and the man with her made an evening stroll a quiet, relaxing experience.

"So when do you take over as manager?" Kelsey asked.

"A week from today."

"Looking forward to it?"

"Yeah. Sure.” But the look on his face said he wasn’t exactly telling the truth. He let out a breath. “I guess I am little uptight about it.”

“Why?”

“There are a couple of employees who’ve been there longer than I have. Now they’re going to be working for me. Jerry called a meeting to tell everyone I was going to be running the place, and I got the impression some of them weren't happy. I'm pretty sure they resent the fact that Jerry gave me the job."

"So people are treating you differently?"

"It feels that way." He sighed. "Maybe I'm just paranoid."

"You'll be fine," she said. "You know the business, right?"

"Yeah. I’ve filled in for Jerry a lot, but being a temporary boss isn’t the same as being a permanent one.”

“And you're dependable."

“Uh-huh."

“I know you work hard. It wears me out just to watch you tend bar.”

"I work my ass off. My father taught me that. By the time I turned eighteen, I was surprised I had an ass left. Even if I don't end up buying into Gianelli's, eventually I want to own a restaurant of my own. That's why I went to school. Why I’ve worked so hard all these years."

"But now you're going to be the boss, and you don't like the thought of ever being the bad guy."

"Does anybody?"

"No, but sometimes you have to be when you're supervising. It’s like being a cop. I’m good to people, sometimes beyond the point where I feel like being respectful. But if I have to order somebody down on the ground and cuff them, I don’t hesitate to do it.”

Brett was silent for a moment. “Yeah,” he said finally. “I hear what you’re saying. But that doesn’t necessarily translate to the hospitality business. I mean, Jerry’s pretty easygoing. He never cracks the whip, but he’s successful enough that he’s opening a second restaurant.”

“Have you considered that he might be successful in spite of that, not because of it?”

“Maybe, but he’s always been the boss. People are comfortable with that. I’m being promoted, though, and that's going to make things harder. I’m pretty sure that people who were my friends before are already talking behind my back.”

“Well, you’re right about that.”

Brett froze. “I am?”

“Paul’s a little worried you’re going to turn into a…let’s see. How did he put it? A dictatorial asshole?”

Brett stopped short, looking horrified. "I'm not going to be a dictatorial asshole!"

"Of course you're not. If you do that, people won't like you."

"Exactly."

"And you want people to like you."

"Of course I do."

“Then you might as well be back in high school. You want to be one of the cool kids. But now you’re going to be more like the tough but fair principal the slackers hate.”

Brett sighed, then kept walking. “That’s a metaphor I could have done without.”

"Don’t worry,” Kelsey said, strolling alongside him. “It's only the slackers who may have a problem with you. The employees who do their jobs will like you just fine."

Brett gave her a reluctant nod, but she could tell he was still uptight. He had no reason to be, though, as long as he remembered that he was the boss and acted accordingly.

As they kept walking, the sounds of the city surrounded them—people talking, the occasional shout, the soft whoosh of tires, horns honking. Once Kelsey stopped to gaze through the window of an upscale women’s clothing store, but only because she couldn’t believe the mannequins were six feet tall and had waists that were approximately sixteen inches. Brett told her they were part of a genetically modified race of synthetic women who survived on vitamin water and lettuce leaves. Then he stopped in front of a toy store and told her a story about one Christmas when he was three, and Santa Claus brought him the most tricked-out tricycle that had ever been created.

They walked on a little farther, passing by a frozen yogurt shop, then a flower store. "Okay, now," Brett said, stopping in front of a plate-glass window. "This is my kind of shop."

Kelsey groaned. The number one problem with taking the long way home was that she had to pass this icky lingerie shop. Its window was full of anorexic mannequins like the ones they'd seen a few shops back, only every one of them was wearing something that would put a hooker to shame.

"I like that one," Brett said.

Kelsey glanced at the garment he pointed to, and her face crinkled with loathing. It was a one-piece thing made of silk, with tiny buttons from the cleavage to the navel and a flounce of ruffles along the top of the thighs, all of it in an iridescent pink so bright it burned her retinas.

"So what do you think?" he asked.

"What do you mean, what do I think?"

"I'd love to see you in that. Say the word, and I’ll buy it for you the moment the store opens in the morning."

She looked at him with utter disbelief. "You have got to be joking."

"I never joke about sleazy undergarments."

"No, Brett. Just…no."

"Would begging help?"

Kelsey sighed. "As much as I appreciate the thought, let me explain something. There is no force in the universe strong enough to get me to wear something like that."

"I don't know. Gravity and centrifugal force keep the planets circling the sun. I bet if they got together, they could get you to wear it.”

She gave him a deadpan stare.

"Fine," he said. "Hurt my feelings. I offer to buy you a nice gift, and you reject it."

"Maybe I'll want it later. And by later, I mean never. Now, come on."

She started walking again, and he caught up to her. "I like taking this way home," he said. "There's so much more to see."

"Uh-huh. Mannequins with zero self-respect wearing horrific lingerie."

Brett chuckled softly and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her close for a moment as they walked. Then he eased away, slid his hand down her arm, and enveloped her hand in his. She imagined Angi would say that fell into the category of kissing in public. Maybe she was right. Strangely enough, something about simply holding hands as they walked felt almost as intimate as sex.

As they went up the elevator in their building, Brett said, “Why don’t you come to my apartment for a little while?”

“No. I should probably call it a night. I have to get up early in the morning.”

“For just a few minutes. I have something to show you.”

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "You have that look on your face."

"What look?"

"The one that says you're up to no good. Are you going to squirt me with something?"

"No."

"Make me put on a plaid skirt and knee socks? You Headmaster, me naughty school girl?"

"No."

"Let Boomer lick me?"

"Oh, for God's sake! Will you just come in?"

Kelsey rolled her eyes and followed him into his apartment. The moment she stepped inside, she stopped short, her mouth falling open with disbelief.

Every surface was free of junk. Stuff was picked up off the carpet. Dishes were put away. There wasn't a potato chip sack in sight. Somebody could sit on the sofa without shoving dirty laundry aside. And it looked as if he'd actually…dusted?

"You cleaned your apartment?" she said, her eyes wide with amazement.

"Did it this morning. What do you think?”

She gazed around, unable to believe it. It would never appear in the pages of House Beautiful, but it wouldn't show up on an episode of Hoarders, either. Boomer sat in the middle of the room, looking a little lost. With actual space around him, he didn’t look quite so much like Godzilla thundering toward Tokyo.

"I think it’s great,” she said. “Finally I know for sure you're not hiding any dead bodies."

"You know what? I found out tidiness has its advantages. Remember that pile of stuff that used to be in that corner? I found last year’s tax refund check underneath it. Two hundred and twenty-four bucks." He gestured toward a set of bookshelves. "And I found my TV remote over there. I swear I looked for that thing for twenty minutes last month before I finally bought a new one. And look at that," he said, pointing to the floor. "Who would have thought my floors were that color?"

Kelsey’s gaze circled around the room, unable to believe it.

"I even alphabetized my album collection," he said.

She drew back. “No way.”

“Check it out.”

She walked over and flipped through the decades-old albums. Yep. ABBA was up first. She didn't know whether to congratulate him on his organizational skills or barf at his taste in music. Then there was Boston. Cat Stevens. Creedence Clearwater Revival. A couple of Ds she didn’t recognize. The Doors. Earth, Wind and Fire. Some guy named John Fahey. Foreigner.

Unbelievable.

"I'm officially Goodwill's new favorite person," Brett said. "It's a wonder I didn't lose Boomer in here."

"Why did you decide to become Mr. Clean?"

"The devil made me do it."

"Nope. This was definitely heaven-sent. So what’s the real reason?”

He took a few steps toward her, his hands stuck in his jeans pockets. "Truthfully? I thought you'd eventually get tired of coming here and wading through all my crap. Since I don't want you to go, my crap had to."

Okay, so everybody had to clean up sometime or the health department would eventually step in. But knowing he did it for her gave her that tingly feeling again, the one that made her feel like whistling some dumb little ditty that would make Disney bluebirds soar out of the treetops to sit on her finger. If she ever did that, she’d know for a fact that she’d gone completely off the deep end.

"You almost had an orgasm when you saw my clean apartment, didn’t you?” Brett asked.

She circled her gaze around the room again. “Almost. I have to admit it’s a pretty big turn-on.”

He inched toward her, taking her in his arms. “What cleanliness can’t do, I can.”

She smiled. “Maybe it’s not as late as I thought.”

As he led her to his bedroom, she told herself to be careful. His sudden bout of housecleaning was nice, but it was going against his nature. They were still total opposites. Maybe opposites did attract, but for how long?

Yeah, Brett was a little smarter than she’d given him credit for. Okay, a lot smarter. But that didn’t mean they had the first thing in common. He had a big, sloppy dog the size of a Hummer, and she had a goldfish. He'd wanted her to wear that god-awful thing in the shop window, and she'd puked and kept walking. He had a smile for everyone, and she practically had to perform a voodoo ceremony to summon one. Her glass was half empty, moving toward bone dry, and his was so full it overflowed. Was there anything they had in common? Even one thing?

Sooner or later their differences had to be their downfall. After the great sex slipped to the background and everyday life took over, what would they have left?