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“Okay, the kitchen counter,” Clive corrected.

“Not in front of our friends, please.” Joanie dug into her container of noodles, and while she was red with embarrassment, she didn’t look that upset. Clive might have been teasing about where, but Lily suspected that her friends had an active love life. They’d been married a year and a half and showed no signs of slowing. It was sweet.

“You’re right,” Clive said. “It’s rude to brag about our awesome sex life to two people who aren’t having any.”

Worst timing ever. Lily had taken a big bite. A big bite that also had a very big sliver of red pepper in it. She managed to swallow that bite, but the pepper was stuck in her throat. She coughed. Wheezed. Flailed.

Marcus was out of his chair like a shot, a concerned look on his face. She waved him off. After a deep drink of her soda, she was finally able to catch her breath.

“I’m fine,” she croaked.

“Almost had to give you the Heimlich, McIntire,” Marcus told her.

Lily gave him a watery smile. At least he hadn’t said mouth-to-mouth.

“I should probably call it a night. Clive is restless, and the courteous thing to do is to remove him from your presence.” Joanie stood from the conference table and began clearing the takeout containers. “You guys can go home. We can start fresh in the morning.”

“You know me,” Marcus said. “I love to burn the midnight oil.”

“Not me,” Lily said. “I have to go home, pet my neighbor’s cat, feed my goldfish, and watch Real Housewives of Beverly Hills.”

“That’s the best one,” Joanie confirmed.

It really was.

Clive was smiling at her, but in a sad way. Like he knew she was lying through her teeth. Then he flicked a look at Marcus and the corner of his mouth twitched.

What the⁠—?

Conversely, nothing on Joanie’s face suggested she had any clue that Lily and Marcus had been sleeping together.

She kept her thoughts to herself while her friends gathered their laptops and planners and made their way out of the conference room.

“I’ll lock up behind you,” Marcus offered, following them to the front door.

Lily met him as he was flipping the deadbolt, building steam as she went. When she reached him, she poked him square in the chest. “What does Clive know?”

“Nothing.” His thick eyebrows slammed down. “At least, I thought nothing. Why, what happened?”

“He was looking at me like he knew exactly what’s happening between us.”

“Between you and Clive?”

“Stop joking around for one second.” She closed her eyes and inhaled. “You know I’m talking about us.”

“What is happening between us? I’d love to know.” His expression was far too serious. She shouldn’t have asked him to stop joking. Joking Marcus was easier for her to handle than Serious Marcus. No less sexy, though.

“Clive looks very in the know,” she hedged.

“There’s a reason for that. And it’s your fault.” He advanced another step, his body heat surrounding her.

She was trying her hardest to stay upset with him, but her resolve was crumbling like stale crackers. Her traitorous body responded, her nipples hardening and pressing against the thin material of her bra and silk shirt. She clenched her thighs as she imagined his mouth on them. Her knees wobbled as she attempted to stand her ground.

“Clive is very observant,” he continued. “He knows damn well what a satisfied woman looks like. And you”—he wrapped one broad hand around her hip and tugged her against his very solid thigh—“look like a satisfied woman.”

She opened her mouth to argue but produced no words at all. Usually, this would be the point where he would kiss her. But he didn’t.

“I guess that’s not your fault.” He twirled a piece of her hair around his finger, and his expression softened. “You’re killing me in this proper little suit, did you know that?” Without waiting for her to answer, he asked, “You want to go home with me or should I go home with you?”