Liv held the small envelope in her hand, her name scrawled across the front in Tristan’s neat handwriting. She recognized his penmanship because he was prone to sending her postcards from around the world and had silently inspired her to reciprocate, so that she found herself scouring the racks of hotel and airport gift shops for ones she thought he’d like whenever she was traveling for work or leisure.

She was currently home in her Bayfront Towers condo. The first thing she always did when she entered was open the doors, step out onto the vast balcony, and take several deep breaths—as she did presently. She absorbed the sights and the sounds of the surf, her view showcasing a portion of the marina and cove to the right, along with the endless ocean stretching toward the horizon.

She craved this primo vista every morning when she woke up. And she’d linger here in the evenings, until the sun set and dusk eclipsed twilight and all that was left were the flickering lights on the bay from the boats.

It was still daytime now, and she slipped back inside to pour a glass of white wine. She had the notecard from Tristan still in hand, and hadn’t yet unveiled the package that had been couriered over from Prada.

She took a sip of wine, then opened the envelope and removed the short-and-sweet missive.

For the party.

Tristan & Nate

Liv’s stomach fluttered. She lifted the lid on the box and peeled back the glittery silver tissue. She squealed in delight at the fabulous strapless mini that was carefully, delicately arranged inside the box. The dress was softly ruched and with a hint of shimmer to it in the deepest, richest, most stunning shade of blue.

Her fingers glided over the satiny material.

Liv’s throat tightened around the lump of emotion suddenly lodged in it. She was no stranger to gifts from men. But coming from Nathaniel—Nate—and Tristan? Their thoughtfulness sent a ribbon of warmth and exhilaration through her.

She held the dress up, admiring it. The curved neckline rose on the sides, dipping in the middle. She would end up with a healthy amount of cleavage on display when she wore this, not to mention ample thigh, given the ultra-short hem.

She whistled under her breath. Chances were very good Nate’s and Tristan’s tongues would be dragging on the floor when she walked into the room. And that excited the hell out of her.

Liv reached for her cell on the counter. When Tristan answered, she asked, “Have you completely lost your mind?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“This dress is spectacular!”

“So you’ll consider being my and Nate’s date for the party?”

She took another drink from her glass and then said, “You don’t have to sway me with pretty presents.”

“Then send the dress back.”

“Too late,” she quipped. “The courier is long gone.”

Tristan chuckled and it reverberated within in her, inciting another ripple of joy. “How fortuitous for you. Guess you’ll have to keep it.”

“I do have a closet full of clothes, you know?”

“But nothing we’ve ever bought you.”

Liv deliberated over this a moment. She’d never really given much thought to their previous lack of funds; not that she was so far removed from reality that she didn’t recognize the class differences that had existed when they were all in school together, but overall, Liv saw people, not stock portfolios.

So she told Tristan, “I sincerely appreciate your generosity and am thrilled to the bone that you chose so wisely. Just know it’s never expected.”

He was quiet for several suspended seconds. This perplexed Liv.

“Tristan?” Had she said something to offend him? She was appreciative. But she certainly wasn’t anticipating the royal treatment just because these guys now had money. It was their money, after all. Hard-earned and well-deserved. Not only did she comprehend that, but she was happy for their success.

He eventually told her, “Men like to give gifts, Liv. And you’re worth every penny.”

She practically melted in her Jimmy Choo shoes. “Such a sweet talker. I will simply say, from the bottom of my heart, thank you. I can’t wait to wear this sensational dress at your party. On Nate’s yacht. Damn.” She let out a soft laugh. “What movie set did I inadvertently stumble upon?”

“You’ll like the Ariana. Every amenity you could possibly dream of, but best of all? A three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view of Bayfront, the cove, and the big blue ocean beyond.”

As gorgeous as Tristan’s big blue eyes. Liv said, “I will admit, I am dying to take in the scenery from all those angles. You know how I love the water.”

“You were the one who coerced me and Nate to take out a small sailboat in the harbor when we were eleven.”

“Oh, yeah. I’d forgotten about that. Though . . . I wouldn’t say coerced. That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think? I prefer the word charmed. I charmed you into sailing. And it was a beautiful experience, wasn’t it?”

“From whose point of view?” he asked. “Nate tacked; failed to warn me. The boom came flying my way; I failed to duck. And—holy shit! Over the side of the boat I went.”

Liv spewed the wine she was sipping. Her laughter filled the condo.

Tristan chidingly said, “That was precisely your response from the pier. I could hear you!”

“You were perfectly fine. You were wearing a life vest,” she reminded him as she grabbed a dish towel to sop up the mess on her counter.

“I couldn’t swim.”

“You lie. You dog-paddled your way to the dock, and Fallon and I hauled you out of the water.” Then Liv had hopped into one of the other yacht club courtesy sloops to guide Nate back into the marina before he’d crossed into the choppier ocean.

“I loved our little excursions,” she told Tristan. “You guys were willing to try anything I suggested.”

“Let’s not reminisce about the debacle that was our first ski trip.”

“It was a sprained ankle, not a broken one. Nathaniel—Nate—” she had to get used to that—“even agreed to give snowboarding a whirl a couple months later, after he was fully healed.”

“I swear, you could have talked us into climbing Mt. Everest with you.”

Liv splashed more wine into her glass as she said, “I solemnly believed you two could do it. Neither of you were short on steel nerves or avid curiosity, that’s for sure.”

“Only because you goad—charmed—us.”

She laughed again. “Just admit that you always had fun, no matter the outcome. I mean, even that less-than-stellar landing you had when skydiving cannot mar the fact that you actually jumped out of an airplane at thirteen thousand feet on the day we graduated high school. Those tandem freefalls were epic!”

“I heaved in the men’s bathroom ten minutes later.”

“But the point, Tristan, is that you did it! You jumped!”

“Why yes, I did. And it was epic. Completely and utterly reckless, but epic nonetheless.”

“We were with trained professionals,” she deadpanned.

“I’m not entirely certain that’s a valid rebuttal, honey.”

She sipped, then said, “No guts, no glory. Come on, you like walking on the wild side.”

Another pause. Then his deep voice oozed along her spine as he asked, “Was Paris wild enough for you?”

The air streamed from her lungs on one long breath. Her nipples tightened behind the lacy cups of her bra. And every nerve ending sprang to life, snapping and sizzling. Her teeth sank into her bottom lip for a moment in delicious contemplation.

How was she supposed to answer this question?

On the one hand, the three of them had never discussed their . . . well, threesome. It’d sort of fallen into the What Happens in Vegas . . . category. On the other hand . . . Oh, Liv could easily conjure thoughts about the other hand! Their hands. All over her body.

She bit back a primal whimper. She searched her mind for appropriate words, but all she really wanted to say was, “We should make it an entire weekend next time.”

“You wouldn’t hear any complaints from us.”

A tiny shriek fell from Liv’s parted lips. “Oh, my God! Did I say that out loud?”

Tristan chuckled once more. It was somewhat strained, as though he was running a movie trailer of a sequel through his mind.

Liv squeezed her thighs together as a bolt of electricity exploded against her clit. Her inner muscles clenched. Her breath was still scarce.

Tristan said, “Hot sex with you is the ultimate adventure, Liv.”

A throaty moan escaped her.

“Mm, now that’s a sound I’d like to hear more often.”

Every fiber of Liv’s being ignited.

“Watching Nate fuck you made me so damn hard,” Tristan added in a rougher tone. “But it was nothing compared to being inside you and making you come.”

Liv’s knees nearly gave out. “I’m thinking you don’t need to be inside me, or even in the same room with me, to make me come.”

“I’d suggest we switch to Skype so I could get the full visual, but I’ve got a conference call in less than a minute.” He groaned in apparent frustration. “Damn it.”

Her blood didn’t cool. She said, “I never took you for the phone-or Skype-sex type, but it’s hot as hell, Tristan.”

“I prefer to be more up close and personal. Particularly with you.”

She fought the jaw drop. Whatever had gotten into Tristan Reeves and had him boldly declaring an interest in hooking up with her again, she didn’t know. Except that perhaps the fact that they were finally in the same location after another long stretch of time apart caused him to mentally entertain all the possibilities.

This got her heart pumping a bit faster. Liv said, “Friday is suddenly feeling like eons away.”

“Agreed. But . . . I’ve got meetings in the city tomorrow and a dinner at the Fairmont. Unless you’re interested in an overnighter in San Fran . . . ?”

“Oh, how you tempt me,” she said with a lusty sigh as the possibilities now consumed her mind. “A yes is sitting on the tip of my tongue. However, I am otherwise engaged.” Disappointment tinged her voice. “I promised Chloe I’d work on these lilac-and-ribbon-dripping-strandy-thingies that will hang from the tree limbs at her outdoor reception. To gently sway in the breeze off the coast and fill the air with the delicate aroma of lilacs in the spring . . . Her words not mine. Christ, I don’t think even I’m that dramatic.”

“Especially since it’s midsummer. But tomato, tomahto, right?”

“Right. So . . . off you go to your conference call and I shall pretend you didn’t just make me ridiculously wet.”

“Fuck.” A low, carnal grunt filled the line. “I don’t even have time for a cold shower.”

“So pleased I elicit the need for one. Now . . . go. Lilac strandy thingies aren’t the only wedding decorations on my list. Trust me when I say, there will be tulle, tulle, and more tulle—everywhere!”

“I’m a bit terrified. But something tells me you’re actually enjoying this.”

“It’s romantic. What girl doesn’t love a fairytale?”

“Fallon is wearing a commitment ring, not an engagement ring,” Tristan pointed out.

“Yes, that’s true. Hers is just a different variation of a fairytale.”

“And her having two lovers on a permanent basis doesn’t seem confusing or complicated to you?”

Liv’s brow knitted. “I haven’t had much opportunity to delve too deeply into the mechanics from an emotional standpoint,” she contended. “I’ve only been back in Bayfront a couple of weeks. Still assimilating. And my own experience is rather . . . limited . . . in this area.”

“Right. Well. I suppose it can seem more of a novelty than—”

“I didn’t say that,” she quickly added. “Novelty trivializes the circumstances, and I can guarantee that is not the case with my friends.”

Tristan fell silent again.

Liv’s chin hitched as she told him, “I find nothing trivial about the circumstance you, Nate, and I found ourselves in, either. The fact that we never discussed it until now is, I believe, merely a reflection of our collective understanding that we weren’t intending to start something that night. None of us were in the position to launch into a relationship of any sort, so there was never really a point to combing through the intricate nuances of a ménage à trois beyond the scorching sex. Correct?”

“A very astute observation.”

“I pay attention from time to time.”

He laughed, low and sensually. “I know you do. Now, I really have to go. Much as I’d like to continue this deep-dive into our intricate nuances.”

“They apparently haven’t diminished in five years, Tristan. As in not going anywhere. No need to be any later for your conference call.”

“That’s entirely dependent upon you being amenable to picking up the conversation where we’re leaving off.”

Liv worried her lower lip once again. Would it just be opening a can of worms best left sealed shut if they did engage in a discussion about their threesome? She’d always assumed he and Nate had taken the same philosophical high road as she did, viewing their sexually charged evening as something extraordinary that had happened, but not anything they were capable of exploring further.

“Liv?” Tristan prompted.

She hedged a few seconds more, then reluctantly said, “I’m not sure there’s much purpose in a recounting of what we all succumbed to. Sometimes it’s best to accept a situation for what it was at that moment in time, rather than dissecting the components. Might dilute the potency, you know what I mean?”

“Hmm. Maybe.” Though he didn’t sound the least bit convinced by her theory. Instead he simply said, “We’ll catch up later. Have a good evening.”

“I will. And thanks again for the gift. I’m looking forward to Friday night.”

“Me, too.”

He dropped off the call. Liv returned her cell to the counter and poured more wine.

A repeat performance with Nate and Tristan wasn’t something she’d fixated on over the years. Sometimes the stars were aligned just so and that resulted in magic. To fuck with the astrology could end disastrously. If a second attempt at something so perfect went awry, it would inevitably taint the initial scenario. Taint their friendships, even.

Liv frowned. What a double-edged sword she was suddenly balanced on the tip of.

Just thinking of another go-round with her ménage lovers sent a wave of anticipation and excitement washing over her. But what if it was only meant to be a one-time thing and the cosmic forces subsequently conspired against them for greedily reenacting the guilty pleasure?

Damn. For so long, she’d savored the memory of Nate and Tristan taking turns with her, but had always considered it “something that had just happened.” Not “something that could happen . . . again.”

But here they all were in Bayfront and already a new fantasy was being woven.

The overarching question for Liv: Was it wise to continue adding to the tapestry, when their lives were never going to be fully intertwined?