Her cell phone taunted her from the nightstand, silent and black, nothing but pure, untarnished potential. Before she could talk herself out of it, she grabbed it and pulled up his number.

You awake?she texted.

Yes, he replied immediately. Thinking of you, actually.What are you doing Friday night?

Hmm. That sounds suspiciously like a lead-up to a date.

So?

We said no dating!

When she�d finally agreed to exchange numbers at the museum, she did so on one condition: that they�d keep it casual. Flirty texts were risky enough, but under no circumstances could they actually date. She thought she�d made that clear.

So why was he asking her out?

It�s not a date, he replied. It�s a party. A terribly boring party. Please come.

Why would I come to a terribly boring party?

Not come TO. Come AT.

Charley cracked up. Assumptions, assumptions!

We�ll have access to at least a dozen closets.

Hmm� this party is sounding less boring by the minute.

So� it�s a non-date?

Disappointment settled into her stomach. Can�t, she replied. Work thing.

Cancel.

I wish. Rain check?

Charley froze, her fingers hot over the screen. Why did she ask for a rain check? She was the one who�d made the no-dating rule in the first place, and now she was encouraging him.

God, what is it about this guy?

Her phone buzzed with his reply. I�ll hold you to it. The hot dog cart isn�t the same without you.

I�ll bet. Charley smiled, but as much as she was enjoying their texts, she knew they couldn�t lead anywhere. Eventually, she and her Mr. Redthorne would hit a dead-end, and he�d become nothing more than a memory.

With a soft sigh, she texted her response. Ok, gotta go. Time for bed.

Alone?

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