Jenna woke in a tangle of sweaty sheets and lingering dreams so wicked she feared she might set the bed on fire. She blinked, trying to remember the details, knowing only that her mind had been filled with Reece, and telling herself that she was allowed only a few more minutes to savor the heat before she locked the dreams away in the vault and never, ever spoke of them.

A quick rap on the bedroom door made her squeal, and she sat up, pulling her hand out of her panties as she did and biting her lower lip with mortification.

And with frustration, too. She really wished she could remember some specifics.

"Jenna?" Brent's voice filtered through the door. "You up?"

"Yeah," she called. "Well, I am now."

"Sorry. But it's time to rise and shine. Breakfast with Reece, remember?"

She groaned.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine," she called, climbing out of bed and putting on the bathrobe he'd set out for her. She padded across the room and opened the door, revealing a sweat-slicked Brent, shirtless and fresh from his morning run. "I feel like I've only slept for an hour," she continued. "Oh, wait. I pretty much have only slept for an hour."

"A few minutes more than that," he said wryly.

"One or two, maybe." She looked him up and down. "You look far too awake."

"Curse of the job," he said. "Well, the job plus parenthood."

"Which means that this morning you've already taken Faith to school, gotten in a run, and answered at least a half dozen emails. I feel like a slug."

"You don't look like one." He nodded toward the attached bathroom. "Go ahead and take a shower. You'll feel better."

She eyed him. "Don't you want to get cleaned up and dressed before Reece gets here?"

"We've got time. I'll grab my clothes and go shower and shave in Faith's bathroom."

"You're shaving your beard?" She hoped not. It wasn't heavy, and she liked the way it defined his jaw.

"No, just cleaning it up. Part shave, part trimming."

"Good. But I can shower in there if you'd rather. I peeked in last night, and Faith's bathroom has a serious pink theme going."

"I'm man enough to handle it," he teased. "Besides, I'm guessing all your makeup is already laid out in there." He nodded toward the master bathroom.

She shrugged, sheepish. "We have so known each other too long."

His grin flickered. "I'll take Faith's bathroom. Go on and take your shower."

"Fine." She headed toward the bathroom, then paused and turned back. "But shave in here, okay? I don't think any little girl wants to see daddy whiskers in her girlie pink bathroom."

"Fair enough," he said, then grabbed some jeans and a T-shirt out of his dresser and headed into the hall.

She was showered and back in the robe when he returned and knocked on the bathroom door, now wearing jeans and no shirt, presumably so he could shave without worrying about his clothes.

"All yours," she said, grabbing her hairbrush and heading into the bedroom to rummage in her suitcase. The clock said eight forty-five. Reece was coming at nine, and she had a job interview at eleven. She'd packed a dress for today, but in her discombobulated state last night, she hadn't hung it up. Now, of course, it was a wrinkled mess, and she didn't have time to iron, have breakfast with the guys, and get across town to the interview on time.

Frowning, she laid the dress out on the bed as she eyed the bathroom, thinking that she'd turn the shower on full blast and steam the wrinkles away as soon as Brent was out of there. In the meantime, maybe a little coffee would dissolve the rest of the cobwebs in her head.

With a quick tug on the sash to tighten her robe, she moved into the hallway that led to the kitchen. As she passed the living room, the front door opened, and Reece walked in, calling out, "Hey, I'm here," and then stopping short when his gaze landed on her.

Jenna froze, last night's fantasies and dreams rushing back to her—along with the awkward realization that she was naked under her robe. A completely uninteresting fact five minutes ago, now it seemed like the most important thing in the world.

"Hi," she said, her hand rising to hold the neck of the robe together. "So, um, hey." God, she sounded like an idiot. "Aren't you early?"

"A little. That a problem?" He took a step toward her, his brows knit and his mouth a thin line. He looked confused, and why wouldn't he be? When had any of the three of them ever cared if the others were early?

"Duh. No. It was just an observation. Um, I was just about to put on some coffee. Want some?" Her smile felt wobbly, and she hurried into the kitchen, wishing that she could pull the fantasies out of her head, crumple them up, and throw them away. Barring that, she wished that she could at least act normal.

He followed her into the kitchen, then leaned against the pantry door, still looking wary. She opened the cupboard then said a silent thank you that Brent didn't have any beans ground. It gave her an excuse to fill the grinder, turn the gizmo on, and think.

When she released the button and the racket stopped, she turned back to Reece just in time to see his eyes go wide. He was looking down the hallway at something outside her line of sight, and she stepped around the counter so she could see what had caught his eye.

The what was Brent, coming toward them as he pulled a T-shirt over his head, a dab of shaving cream still on his face. "About your dress on the bed," he was saying. "Do you want me to hang it up for you?" His head emerged, and he looked at Reece with surprise. "Oh, hey. I didn't know you were here alread—"

But that was all he said. Because the next second, Reece's fist flew out and landed—pow!—on Brent's jaw.