“Kennedy, what do you think?” I ask, turning around to face her. She’s sprawled across my bed on her stomach with her arms hanging down over the edge.

“It’s a dress.”

Paige rolls her eyes and grabs a can of hair spray, adding a few spritzes to my hair. She kept it wavy but pulled it back in a low, loose bun. “Don’t ask her what she thinks. She thinks wearing jeans and a T-shirt is perfectly fine for a proposal.”

Kennedy pushes herself up to her knees. “It IS perfectly acceptable. If I wear something fancy, Griffin will know that I know that he’s going to propose. He can’t know that I know.”

“I have no idea what you just said,” Paige grumbles. “So, how do you think he’ll do it? Maybe put the ring in your dessert? Spell out ‘Will you marry me’ in rose petals on the bed?”

Kennedy scrunches up her face and shakes her head. “Oh, hell no. He better not do any of those things if he knows what’s good for him.”

“Kennedy, this is your engagement to the man of your dreams. Your best friend. The man you should have married instead of that lying, cheating sack of shit you DID marry. It should be huge and romantic,” Paige complains.

“No, it should be small and to the point. I want to be curled up on the couch watching a Notre Dame game and have him hand me a ring along with a plate of salsa and chips.”

It’s Paige’s turn to make a face. “I just don’t understand you sometimes.” She sets the hair spray down and takes one last look at me. “Seriously, I am a genius. You really should have invited Dallas as your plus one.”

Walking over to my closet, I slip into my four-inch black-lace peep-toe Christian Louboutins. “Inviting Dallas to my gay ex-husband’s wedding is not at the top of my to-do list.”

Paige flops down on the bed next to Kennedy. “How many times have you sucked face with him now?”

I laugh uncomfortably. “Um, I don’t know. I stopped counting.”

Seven. Seven times I’ve had the pleasure of kissing Dallas so far. Seven mind-blowing times and as hard as it is to believe, each time gets better and better. We’ve spent every single day of the last week together going over notes for the case. Well, not every second was spent going over notes. Some of that time was spent kissing, tasting, touching, and doing everything except having sex. And everything but discuss what’s going on with us now—not how he’d wanted to kiss me since the first moment he saw me, not how he tried to pretend like that first kiss never happened, or how absolutely insane it is that one day we hated each other and the next we can’t keep our hands off of each other.

“You are such a bad liar, Lorelei. Anyway, I bet he would have said yes if you asked him to go to Doug’s wedding with you,” Paige tells me.” Especially after he gave you an orgasm on Kennedy’s desk.”

Kennedy pops up from the bed and stares at me in horror. “WHAT? I’ve touched that desk this week! Jesus Christ, I’m going to have to bleach my hands!”

I really need to stop confiding in Paige; she can’t keep her mouth shut.

Ignoring Kennedy’s outburst, I look at Paige. “I didn’t want to put him in that position. It was bad enough he had to witness how horrible my parents are; I don’t think he’s ready for a gay wedding.”

Paige sighs. “Tell me again about the first time he kissed you. It’s like something right out of a movie.”

“Wait, did I hear about that? I just know you two haven’t been able to keep your hands off of each other every time I see you in the office and now thanks to you I’ll have to burn my desk. Did you do something weird for the first kiss?” Kennedy asks.

“Oh, my God, Kennedy! He stalked toward her like a tiger going for his prey. Didn’t say a word, just slammed her up against her car and laid one on her,” Paige tells her excitedly.

“He didn’t exactly slam me up against the car.”

Paige raises her eyebrow at me.

“It was more of a push. A really, really hot push.”

“Nice. I knew you two would finally get your heads out of your asses and hump like rabbits,” Kennedy says with a smile.

“There is no humping going on!”

Kennedy stares at me in shock. “What do you mean there’s no humping going on? I saw him grab your ass the other day. Why isn’t there humping?”

I shrug and walk over to my vanity to add some nude lip gloss to my lips.

“It’s not like I don’t want it to happen, it’s just . . . it hasn’t. I don’t know. We get to a certain point and he always backs off. With the way he teeter-totters back and forth, who knows, he’s probably changing his mind about me again.”

Kennedy snorts. “Bullshit. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He would throw you down on the floor of the office, screw you ten ways to Sunday, and still want more.”

“Maybe he’s waiting for you to make the first move. I mean, he was the one who kissed you first,” Paige adds.

Make the first move? I wouldn’t even know where to begin with someone like Dallas. I’m not used to a man like him—someone who takes charge so fully.

“I think you need to get drunk. Liquid courage works wonders,” Kennedy says with a nod.

“I don’t get drunk. You know that.”

“You also don’t wear anything other than a suit, swear like a truck driver, kiss hot-as-balls men, or solve murders. I’m pretty sure you’re already out of your comfort zone, Lorelei. Might as well add one more thing to the list,” Paige says with a laugh.