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“What if she’s different than Taylor?” Josh asks.

“She’s not. She’s still a woman with family, friends, and feelings. Neither of us needs another heartache. Plus, she works here. You know how the grapevine functions.”

“I’m tired of the corporate Casanova routine, Marcus.”

“An office threesome would be worse.” When Josh looks unconvinced, I plow on. “You want our coworkers to know about our sex life? We only managed to keep Taylor on the down-low because she worked on the other side of the city. Kate’s desk is two floors below ours. If we took her to bed and everything went south…all it would take is one vindictive word. She could…fvck our reputations.”

“Or she could fall for us and—”

“Jesus, what fairy-tale world are you living in?”

“The one where we’re happy. Is that really asking so much?”

Josh has a point. I hate to admit it, but neither of us has been truly happy since Taylor. Just like my best friend, it isn’t that I miss her. It’s that I miss the closeness, the feeling of rightness that gripped me when we took her together. I haven’t felt anything remotely like it since.

But logic has to prevail. No matter what we feel, we can’t collectively get involved with Kate.

Instead of pointing out my rationale again—he’s not listening—I attack from another angle. “You sound ready to go all in, despite the fact we met this woman a few hours ago. And we’ve exchanged what, twenty words with her?”

“Don’t be an a$$hole. And don’t tell me you don’t feel it, too. I know you.”

That’s the problem. We’ve been friends for thirty years. Other than my mom, no one knows me better. Hell, when it comes to women, Josh understands me far more. He knows when I’m interested and when my feelings are involved.

“All right, fine. She’s gorgeous. She does it for me. I want to fvck her. I’d love to fvck her with you,” I murmur for him alone. “But use your head up north. Are you willing to risk professional suicide? I’m not. You shouldn’t be, either.”

Josh grits his teeth. He’s pissed, but I’m right. He needs to back off and stop filling my g*ddamn head with images that will keep me up half the night, trying to m@sturbate my need away. “This is ridiculous. People care if we make them money, not who we fvck. You’re just scared.”

“I’m practical.”

His scowl tells me he doesn’t agree. “What are you suggesting?”

“We should keep our hands off of her—”

“If she’s willing, do you really think that’s going to happen?”