Between Friends

Chapter Two

“Crap!” Whitney tried to keep the bags of Chinese takeout from sliding off the window-unit box she held in her arms. She cast a pleading glance at the door, willing it to open. Where the hell were the guys? She’d expected them to come bounding down the sidewalk to help as soon as she pulled into the driveway.

She used her body to hold the box against the wall and fumbled with her house keys. Leaving the keys dangling in the deadbolt lock, she turned the knob and gave the door a little shove with the sole of her flip-flop. She lugged the box inside the house, careful not to disturb the delicate balance of takeout bags.

“Mick? Eddie?” She listened for a reply but heard only silence. In the living room, she discovered an even bigger mess than she’d left. A paint can rested near a sawhorse. Pools of paint congealed on the exposed flooring. Flecks of green paint marred the ceiling fan.

What. The. Fuck.

Whitney’s blood pressure skyrocketed. It was like living with a pair of toddlers. She’d just come back from the most stressful two weeks of her entire adult life, an impetus forcing her to take a damn hard look at her current situation, and had made a big, ballsy, and frankly terrifying decision.

And she needed her guys in her corner. She needed to sit down with them, share a bottle of wine and a few beers and talk this out. She trusted their intuition and respected their opinions. She needed them both to tell her it was going to be okay, that she wasn’t crazy to think about leaving her current job and joining a new venture.

Whit had expected to come home to her nice, cozy, if not somewhat boring, shared space, but instead she’d walked into this home-improvement disaster. As much as she’d wanted to grouch at the two of them, she simply couldn’t. She had been complaining about the need for renovations. The house was just gorgeous and so well built, but the layout lacked imagination. Too many walls made the living and dining areas feel cramped. The colors were less than inspiring. The carpet was flat-out ugly. The place had so much potential, but it needed some work.

And the guys had taken it upon themselves to do it while she was away on business. Even though their little plan had clearly gone awry, it was truly the thought that counted. The ceiling fan, paint colors, and wooden blinds were all things she’d picked out in decorating magazines. Apparently Mick and Eddie had been paying attention to the glossy pages adorned with red circles and hastily jotted notes.

Realizing they cared so much made Whitney feel so good. It had been a long, long time since she’d felt as if she was part of a family. Her parents had died when she was young. Her aunt had done her very best, but she’d struggled with her alcoholism and hadn’t been able to provide a very stable environment. Eventually Whitney had ended up in foster care and bounced around from home to home until graduating high school. A likeminded group of friends at college had temporarily filled the void, but after graduation they’d all gone their separate ways in search of careers and fulfillment. Facebook and Twitter and text messages only went so far to bridge the gap.

And then she’d found Eddie and Mick by way of a roommate ad. The upscale address and surprisingly affordable rent had caught her eye that morning in the coffee shop. She’d been desperate for a new living situation. Sharing a one-bedroom apartment with a coworker was less than ideal, especially when said coworker was an absolute slob.

She’d called the number immediately and reached Mick’s voicemail. He’d called her back around lunch, and they’d arranged an evening viewing and interview. As soon as she’d laid eyes on the Mediterranean-style house situated on a beautifully landscaped corner lot, Whitney had decided she’d do whatever it took to seal the deal. She’d have put up with just about anything to live in such a great place.

Meeting Eddie and Mick had been the icing on the cake. Sexy as sin. Funny. Sweet. Successful. One of them carried a gun and the other a stethoscope, so she always felt safe and secure. As a single woman in LA, that wasn’t a feeling she’d often enjoyed, living with her old roommate in that crummy apartment in a not-so-great neighborhood.

During that first meeting, she’d gotten a bit of a strange vibe from the pair. She’d assumed it was the fact she was a girl. They’d been totally upfront with her about their gender preferences for their new roommate but had decided to give her a chance because they felt the chemistry worked.

Later, she’d realized it wasn’t their iffiness about a female roommate but something else entirely. It hadn’t taken her long to pick up on the pair’s intimate level of familiarity. She’d put two and two together and realized Eddie and Mick were more than friends.

They were lovers. Well-sometimes. There was so much bed hopping going on in the house she often felt like Goldilocks. Mick in Eddie’s bed. Eddie in Mick’s bed. Some hot nurse in Mick’s bed. A girl from Eddie’s favorite bar in his. Both of them and the hot nurse in Mick’s bed. And every combination in between.

Not that Whitney was ever part of the bed hopping. She sat on the sidelines and stared on enviously as everyone else got a piece of the hot-sex pie. She’d been working sixteen-hour days for a solid year. Add in all the traveling to New York and Paris and Milan and Tokyo and, well, there wasn’t much time left for dating. Hell, meeting a straight man who wasn’t a stuck-up model was damn near impossible. Stylists, designers, buyers, publicists-the bulk of the men she met in her field had boyfriends or longtime lovers of their own.

Or they wanted short flings. Casual sex that meant nothing. Whitney couldn’t do that. She wasn’t a prude by any stretch of the imagination. She enjoyed rather-naughty erotica and even amateur porn on occasion. She’d had a handful of sexual relationships but never a one-night stand. She simply wasn’t programmed for no-strings-attached sex.

In many ways, Whitney was an old-fashioned gal. She wanted the stable relationship, the kids, and the white picket fence. She wanted a man who took charge but was sensitive and caring. She wanted someone well-read and rugged. A man who was just as at ease schmoozing at society galas as he was pitching a tent in a woodsy clearing and hiking a mountain.

Of course, the older Whitney got, the more she realized that maybe that perfect man didn’t exist. Maybe, just maybe, she was looking for two men. Two drop-dead-sexy, sweet-as-pie, perfectly compatible men who just happened to share her living space.

Speaking of said twosome, Whitney called out their names again and heard nothing. Annoyed, she carefully lowered the air conditioner box to the ground and rearranged the bags of takeout. She grabbed her keys from the deadbolt and locked the door behind her. Dropping her keys and purse next to the window-unit box, she went in search of Mick and Eddie.

Her eyes widened at the messes she discovered in the dining room and kitchen. They hadn’t been kidding. The place was wrecked. This was exactly the kind of bullshit that happened without a detailed plan and work schedule. Fail to plan, plan to fail.

Shaking her head, Whitney poked her head into the office she shared with Mick, and then her bedroom. Eddie’s man cave proved empty, too. As she neared the two bedrooms at the end of the hallway, Whitney caught the sound of running water. Why the hell were they showering when there was still a huge mess to clean up out in the living room?

She raised her hand to knock but stopped when her knuckles were mere centimeters from the door. The unmistakable sound of a groan met her ears. Whitney went perfectly still as her ears perked to the noises coming from within the bathroom. Her belly quivered as deliciously dirty visions inspired by the moans and groans filled her head. There was no doubt in her mind that Eddie and Mick were fucking. Just who was giving it to whom was anyone’s guess.

Although, if Whitney were a betting woman, she’d put money on Eddie being the top. He had a definite dominant air about him. Sometimes he’d look at her in that serious, no-nonsense way, and she’d go weak in the knees. He had no qualms about taking charge or being firm. She’d found Eddie a bit overbearing in those early days, but she’d warmed to his particular style after a few weeks. He wasn’t rude or condescending or a control freak. He simply had a big heart and liked to take care of the people who were important to him.

“Oh, god, Eddie.” Mick’s lust-filled voice penetrated the door. “Yeah. Yeah. Like that. Fuck me hard. Harder.”

“Take it! Take my cock!”

“Eddie! Ahh, ahh, unnnhh!”

“Touch your cock,” Eddie ordered. “Make yourself come.”

Whitney’s stomach trembled wildly. She placed a hand to the door and pressed her ear to the wood. It was naughty and wrong, but she couldn’t stop herself. She had to hear what was going on in there. Her thighs clenched, and her clit throbbed. She put her hand between her legs, cupping her fabric-covered mound. She had no doubt that if she slipped a finger inside her panties she’d find her slick juices coating her entrance.

The urge to strum her clit was too powerful to fight. Whitney’s hand moved under her skirt and dipped into her undies. She opened her thighs, widening her stance, and let her fingers drift over her stiff clit. Engorged with arousal, the nub pulsed with need. Whitney rubbed hard and fast, taking a different approach to her usual slow and easy pace. This tryst between the guys wouldn’t last long. She wanted to make the best of it.

“Do you like it when I fuck your ass like this?” Eddie’s voice was tight and low, almost a growl. The noisy slap of flesh against flesh echoed in the bathroom. Whitney’s head spun as she imagined the coupling. They were in the shower, their bodies wet and glistening. Maybe they were standing, Eddie behind Mick, Mick with his hands on the tile.

“Give it to me,” Mick begged. “Fuck my ass hard.”

“Jerk your cock,” Eddie ordered. “I want to come with my dick in your ass.”

The groans and grunts from inside grew louder and more frantic. Whitney’s entire body vibrated as she flicked her clit with her fingertips. Her eyes closed as she chased her orgasm. Her fingertips curled against the door. The muscles in her legs flexed and relaxed.

“Unhh. Unhh. Ahh. Eddie. Eddie.” Mick groaned loudly, and there was no doubt in Whitney’s mind that he was coming hard. Seconds later, Eddie growled, setting off Whitney’s explosion, pleasure bursting inside her overheated body.

When it was all over, Whitney inhaled a ragged breath and let her forehead touch the door. She pressed her wet fingertips to her still-throbbing clit and tried to catch her breath. The sound of low murmuring voices met her ears. She didn’t want to be caught with her hands in her panties, so she quietly and quickly stepped away from the door and returned to the living room.

She managed to squeeze by all the boxes of crap and home-improvement equipment in the kitchen to reach the sink and wash her hands. She took a second to inhale a steadying breath and hoped her body would calm down before the guys left the bathroom. Had she really just done that? Masturbated in the hallway as her roommates went at it in the shower?

Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. There was no doubt in her mind that if Mick or Eddie saw her at that very moment they’d have known what happened. Best to get a hold on herself before the guys left the bathroom. Otherwise they would all be so embarrassed.

Hoping to avoid an awkward scene, Whitney grabbed a roll of paper towels and headed into the living room to attack the paint mess. She kicked off her flip-flops and wiped down the sawhorse and ladder. She moved the cleaned equipment to one side of the plastic-covered floor and looked around for a razor knife.

Blade extended, she knelt down and cut a wide swath of plastic around the paint puddle. She set aside the knife and carefully pulled together the four corners of the plastic. She spotted the nearby roll of duct tape and used it to secure the top. With the paint contained in the makeshift plastic bag, Whitney carried the whole mess to the garbage can on the other side of the room and dropped it in the bin.

She found the roll of plastic in the dining room and dragged it out to the living room to cut a new piece for the living room floor. She made sure to cut it much bigger than necessary so the overlap would offer extra protection. She used masking tape to secure the new piece in place and tested its hold with her toes.

The big roll of plastic went back into the dining room, and Whitney squeezed back into the kitchen for plates, cups, and iced tea. She ducked into the dining room and dug around in the side table until she found the happy yellow tablecloth she loved so much. She placed it in the center of the living room. Just because they had to eat on the floor didn’t mean they couldn’t do it in style.

“Whit?” Eddie called out her name as he came down the hall. “You home?”

A tremor of nervousness shook her core. Visions of Eddie and Mick in a sweaty embrace, their hard bodies rocking and bucking, filled her mind. She quickly cleared away the naughty image and tried to focus.

“Yep.” She surveyed her little floor table-scape. “Hey, would you grab those floor pillows from the office closet?”

“Sure.” He returned a few minutes later with the pillows in his big, muscled arms. Whitney tried not to stare at his naked torso or the towel tucked around his trim waist. His relaxed features went rigid as he frowned. “You cleaned up our mess.”

She took the pillows from him. “I’m hungry. I didn’t want to wait.”

“Yeah, but-”

“No buts,” she said, shaking her head. “Go get dressed before the food gets cold and gross.”

Eddie glanced toward the takeout bags. “Szechuan Palace?”

“Of course! Now shoo!” She snuck a glance at Eddie’s bare back and taut backside as he padded out of the living room and disappeared down the hall. She made quick work of setting out the containers of soup, noodles, and entrees. She placed the pitcher of iced tea Eddie made every morning in the center and ran back into the kitchen for utensils. Eddie’s chopstick skills were less than stellar, and he preferred a fork.

“Is that string-bean chicken I smell?” Mick rubbed his hands together as he strode into the living room.

“Yes, but you can’t have any because you didn’t clean up your mess.” She shot him a teasing smile. “You get to sit there and watch me eat all this yummy food.”

Mick pouted as he plopped down on a pillow. “Not fair.”

“Neither was me cleaning up a gallon of paint that I didn’t spill.”

He made an apologetic face. “Sorry about that. Eddie fell and knocked over the paint. We were both covered in the stuff, so we hit the shower.”

Whitney’s eyebrows arched as she questioned their reasoning. “So you would be squeaky clean when you wiped up the mess?”

“Errr…” Mick looked sheepish. “Yeah. That’s a good point.”

“Clearly planning isn’t one of his strong suits,” Eddie said as he came into the room and gestured at the mess.

“Kind of scary for a doctor,” Whitney said, needling her good friend.

Mick played up the puppy-dog eyes. “You’re mean.”

She laughed and rolled her eyes. “That doesn’t work on me. I’m immune after all this time living with you.”

“Thank god.” Eddie took the pillow closest to her and reached for the pitcher of iced tea. He filled her glass first then Mick’s and his. Rather shockingly, he leaned over and pecked her cheek. “Thank you for grabbing dinner and picking up the mess.”

“You’re welcome.” Whitney’s skin tingled from the warmth of his unexpected kiss.

“Hey! Don’t leave me out.” To her utter surprise, Mick leaned across the makeshift table and kissed her other cheek. “Thank you, Whit.”

“Anytime.” Whitney’s face blazed. Sure, as roommates, the three of them had constant contact, but never kisses, not even gentle, chaste ones like the two she’d just received. Something had changed. Had it been inspired by her transformation in attitude? She had been bold as brass and felt up Eddie while she grabbed his keys.

“So,” Mick said as he dished out food onto his plate, “how was Paris? How was Miami?”

“Miami was fabulous!” Whitney poked a pair of chopsticks into the nearest container of fried rice and pushed a serving onto her plate. “It was so nice to see the girls and lounge around the pool with a mojito and a good book. There are some amazing clubs down there. And the food!” She closed her eyes in exaggerated remembrance. “Delicious!”

“Clubs, huh?” Eddie’s tone caught her attention. She sensed a little jealousy. “You were careful, right?”

“I watched my drink like a hawk. I declined the shots offered to me from random dudes. I came in a group and left in a group. I kept my pepper spray and the rape whistle you gave me in my purse. We took a cab between the hotel and club instead of walking because it was late at night.” She squared her shoulders and held his gaze. “Does Sergeant Dillon approve?”

Eddie flashed a devastatingly sexy grin. “He does. Well done.”

She preened. “Thank you.”

“So did you meet anyone?” Mick focused on his egg-drop soup, but Whit could tell he was anything but disinterested.

“I met lots of great people, but if you’re asking whether or not I met a man”-she paused to gauge Mick’s response-“the answer is no. I wasn’t actually on the lookout for a hookup. I was a bit more career-minded on this one.”

Mick’s brow furrowed. “Are you thinking of switching jobs?”

“Sort of,” Whitney said, twirling noodles around her chopsticks. “I feel like I’ve gone as far as I possibly can at the style house. I want something different. I’ve worked my ass off since high school. I interned at fashion magazines and with some of the best designers around. I’ve done public relations and marketing. I’m not getting to use any of those skills right now. I’m just styling clothes for shoots and shows.”

“But you love styling,” Mick pointed out in between sips of soup.

“I do,” she agreed, “but I want to do something more.”

“Do you have a plan?” Eddie seemed concerned. “The job market is rough, Whit. I’d hate to see you leave a fairly well-paying and stable job for something that may not pan out immediately.”

“I do have a plan.” Her stomach fluttered with anxiety. She’d made her decision, but it didn’t make it any less scary. “An old mentor of mine is opening a public relations, marketing, and branding firm. It’s a big deal. She has lots of awesome, first-rate clients lined up already. And she wants me to head the styling side of things.” Whitney waved her hand. “I’ll work with clients on developing their brand, and direct and design photo shoots and shows around that brand.”

“Wow.” Eddie sat back, clearly impressed.

“Definitely a wow,” Mick echoed. “That’s a great opportunity, Whitney. And it speaks highly of how well regarded you are by your peers.”

“I guess,” she said, a little discomfited. “I just try to work hard and come up with new, fresh ideas.”

“That’s exactly why you’re being headhunted,” Eddie said. “Your mentor sees what we see. You’re brilliant. You have a great work ethic.”

“You obviously know fashion,” Mick interjected. “You busted your backside in college and earned double degrees on top of your internships. Your mentor would be crazy not to ask you to join her new venture.”

“So you think I was right to give notice and take the job?” Whitney desperately needed to know what they thought.

“Absolutely,” they said in unison.

“Good,” she said, breathing a sigh of relief. “Because even though I’m excited about the new prospect, I’m really scared. I mean, I have enough money socked away to pay rent and-”

“Whitney,” Eddie interrupted, “don’t worry about the rent.”

“Eddie’s right,” Mick said with a nod. “If you find yourself in a tight spot, let us know, and we’ll cover your portion of the rent. We’re not underwater on the mortgage anymore. Eddie’s salary freeze was finally lifted. My salary increase will go into effect next month. We’re okay. Really,” he said, with a reassuring pat of her hand.

Whitney’s chest tightened. “Well, I mean, if you guys are okay on the cash flow front, does that mean you’ll want me to move out soon?”

“No!” They answered uniformly and stridently. The pair exchanged looks. Eddie took the lead. “What we mean is that we’re very happy with our current living situation. Unless you want to leave, you’re welcome to stay.”

“You know, like, forever,” Mick said with a smile.

A thrill of excitement sped along her spine. “Tempting.”

A few hours later, Mick smiled as he listened to Whitney boss Eddie around while they installed the window unit in her bedroom. No doubt Eddie could put the A/C in the window blindfolded, but he said nothing. Any other man would have snapped at Whitney by now but not Eddie. He just wasn’t that guy.

Although, knowing Eddie, he was probably itching to throw Whitney across his lap and spank her cute little ass. Like most Doms, he had a thing for spanking, but only women. Mick was A-OK with that. He didn’t get off on spanking and was only mildly interested in the BDSM scene. When he and Eddie slept together, they only very rarely dabbled in bondage or domination. A little here and there made things interesting. Every day? Not so much. At least not for Mick.

But judging by Whitney’s reading tastes, she’d probably enjoy Eddie’s hands-on training. Mick wouldn’t mind watching either. His groin tightened as he imagined Whitney’s bare ass up in the air as Eddie’s big hand smacked the supple flesh. Mick had always been a bit of a voyeur. Watching the man he cared about most and the young woman who had captured his affection in a kinky spanking scene would definitely rock his world.

Speaking of rocking his world…

Mick was certain Whitney had heard him and Eddie going at it in the shower earlier. She’d had that nervous and slightly guilty look on her face during dinner. Had she been conjuring up filthy visions to go with the noises she’d overheard? He sure as hell would have been if the tables had been turned and he’d overheard Whitney and Eddie going at it in the shower.

It probably wasn’t the first time she’d overheard their lovemaking. A few times, she’d given them both the stink eye after they’d brought women back to the house. She had a fair point, though. It wasn’t right that strangers-to her-were running free in her home. Had the roles been reversed, he and Eddie would have been less than pleased to see a half-naked man strolling between her bedroom and the kitchen.

Less than pleased was an understatement. Pissed. Jealous. Yeah. That was more like it.

Eddie’s jealous tone hadn’t escaped him when Whitney had been talking about the clubs in Miami. Eddie could say he didn’t want to play with fire until he was blue in the face, but Mick knew better. Eddie wanted Whitney something fierce. Their desire for Whitney was only rivaled by the connection they shared with one another.

Eddie feared the burn of another rejection, but Mick had the perfect salve. He wasn’t afraid to get back on the metaphorical horse and give it another go. More importantly, Mick believed Whitney was the girl for them. For so long, Mick and Eddie had struggled with the knowledge they came as a matched set. They naturally gravitated toward a ménage and needed a woman who craved that cozy spot between them.

That woman was Whitney. Mick believed down to the very bottom of his soul. The problem? How to breech the subject with her and convince Eddie to give love a chance. It wouldn’t be easy, but Mick was a natural problem solver. As a trauma surgeon, he was quick to think on his feet, calm under pressure, and adept at piecing together solutions.

From Mick’s point of view, Whitney was ripe for the plucking, so to speak. She’d just committed to a huge change in her life. She’d proven she wasn’t averse to risk and was open to trying new things. What better time than now to make his move?

Except he had to tread carefully, very carefully. Eddie’s wounds from the Miranda fiasco were still very raw. He tried to play it off, but Mick knew better. Eddie’s skittishness toward Whitney stemmed from that fear. Making the first move with Whitney would be easy for Mick, but Eddie would feel alienated, maybe even betrayed. He refused to hurt his friend, his lover, like that.

So Mick would have to be sneaky. He’d have to find a way to push Eddie and Whitney together without looking blaringly obvious. Eddie had to make the first move. Whitney had to want Eddie, had to choose him first, or else no dice. Whatever Mick’s feelings toward Whitney, he couldn’t, wouldn’t, act upon them if it meant hurting Eddie.

“Can you believe her?” Eddie asked, his face ruddy with exasperation as he barreled into the living room. He tossed down the empty box and put his toolbox on the floor. “Bossing me around like she’s an expert electrician.”

Mick laughed and clapped Eddie on the back. “Was she right?”

Eddie looked peeved. “Anyone can read an instruction manual and follow the directions.”

“So she was right.”

“Yes,” Eddie grudgingly admitted. “You want a beer?”

“If you can squeeze in there, yes.”

“Whit,” Eddie called out, “you want a glass of wine?”

“No, thanks.” She popped into the living room with an armload of beauty supplies and clothes. “I’m going to scrub up and brush my teeth and then head to bed early. I’ve got to run into the office first thing in the morning.”

“Oh.” Mick tried not to show his disappointment. “Well, we’ll try to keep it down.”

She quirked a smile, a deliciously naughty smile that confirmed Mick’s suspicions about her overhearing their tryst earlier. “See that you do.”

Mick waited until she disappeared around the corner and he heard the telltale click of the bathroom door closing. He turned to Eddie and took the opened beer extended his way. “She totally heard us.”

Eddie paled. “You think?”

“I know.” Mick sipped the ice-cold beer and shrugged. “It’s not as if it’s the first time.”

“Yeah, but I was rough with you. And we were loud about it.” Eddie glanced toward the hallway. “I don’t want to scare her.”

“Eddie”-Mick touched his arm-“I don’t think she minds. Remember the books? I’m telling you. Whit is totally into BDSM. Or, at least, she’s curious.”

“Maybe,” Eddie said, his concern fading.

Mick realized this was his chance and seized it. What better way to push Eddie and Whit together than to stoke his jealousy?

“Hey, maybe you should take her to that club of yours. She could find a nice Dom there in that beginner’s-program thing they run there. You know some of the Doms, right? Work buddies and all that. Maybe you could suggest one of the guys to help her find her way.”

As soon as his suggestion hit Eddie’s ears, Eddie stiffened. Mick squashed the smug smile threatening to curve his mouth. Success!

“Hell no!” Eddie took a swig of beer. “She’s not going to submit to some random stranger.”

“If she’s curious, wouldn’t it be a safe way for her to feel out the lifestyle in a public club?” It was wrong, but he had to keep pushing until Eddie went over the edge. “She’d be better off letting someone spank her in a club filled with people than alone in some weirdo’s bedroom.”

Eddie shook his head. “If Whitney wants a taste of domestic discipline, it’ll be my hand spanking her ass.”

“What happened to your no-playing-with-fire stance?”

Eddie shot him a disdainful look. “I know what you’re doing, Mick. You’re trying to goad me into making a move.”

“Is it working?”

Eddie snorted. “Maybe.”

“Come on, big guy,” Mick said, smacking his friend’s back. “We’ve tap danced around this issue for months. She reads kinky books, so we know she’s at least open to the idea of a ménage and your particular flavor of loving. Plus she groped you right here in our living room. She’s into you, Eddie.”

“What about you?”

Mick grinned. “Have you ever met a woman who wasn’t into me?”

Eddie tossed his head back and barked with laughter. “You’re so fucking full of yourself.”

“Hell yes,” he agreed, “but I’m right. She’s into me. And you.” Mick turned serious. “It’s time, Eddie. We have to do this.”

“Have to do what?” Whitney asked, surprising them both as she popped into the living room. Her face was pink and bright from a good scrubbing. She’d let her hair down and changed into a pair of thin cotton pajama pants and a matching blue camisole. The little peek of tanned skin between her top and pants tempted him.

“We have to ask you for a favor,” Eddie said, quickly recovering from her unexpected appearance.

“Sure,” she said happily. “What is it?”

Eddie shot him a quick look of desperation. Mick made something up on the fly. “Uh, well, you know I screwed up the air conditioner, so we were wondering if we could sleep with you.”

Her eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

“Bed down with you,” Eddie hastily clarified. “You know, throw some sleeping bags on your floor.”

“Oh. Well…”

“I have a long day tomorrow,” Eddie continued. “We’re serving warrants on some pretty bad guys. I could use a good night’s sleep.”

Mick was impressed. Eddie was laying it on thick. Of course, he’d learned from the master.

“I guess that’s okay.” Whitney pointed at both of them. “But no funny business!”

Mick crossed his fingers behind his back and smiled innocently. “Promise.”