How were they supposed to talk things out with Nate there?

How were they supposed to talk things out when Derek didn’t even bother to come home?

As she sped along the 101 from Montecito through Santa Barbara she stared straight ahead, throat tight.

But Nate had problems of his own, and when he’d called last week to see if he could stay with them, Derek couldn’t say no. Nate was his best friend. They hadn’t seen him for almost two years. Two years since tragedy had demolished Nate’s own life. The memory of that squeezed Krissa’s heart.

She pulled up in front of the small airport terminal, eyes searching for him. Her gaze skimmed over a tall man sitting on a suitcase, then went back to him. It was Nate. He looked…thinner. Those dark wraparound sunglasses disguised him, but she’d always know him. He still had an athlete’s body, his shoulders wide and muscled, his legs long and lean in faded jeans. His brown hair was longer, more tousled than it had been two years ago.

When he turned her way, she lifted a hand. He stood and grabbed his bags, one of which no doubt carried all his camera equipment. Krissa popped the trunk of the BMW, then hopped out to see if he needed help.

“Nate.” She walked up to him and opened her arms for a hug. He hesitated, then pulled her against him. “I’m so sorry we forgot about you,” she murmured into his chest. “It’s a long story.”

Despite having apparently lost some weight, he still felt big and solid. He smelled like warm male, with a faint hint of soap and cinnamon chewing gum. It felt so good to be held, it made Krissa realize how long it had been since she and Derek had hugged like this…just hugged, not for the purpose of having sex or procreating, just to connect and show affection.

“You can tell me later.” Nate’s arms tightened fractionally around her, then released her. Dark glasses hid his eyes and his square jaw with a shadow of beard and straight mouth gave him a grim, hard look.

She forced a smile. “Yeah. How are you?”

“Shitty, thanks.” One corner of his mouth kicked up in a meager smile.

She turned to his bags. “Here, let me…”

“Don’t be silly.” He hefted them as if they were loaves of bread and heaved them into the trunk. He may have been ill, but he was still strong.

Inside the car, Nate clicked his seatbelt into place. “So your husband is MIA?”

“Yes.” She sighed, glanced over her left shoulder and pulled out into traffic. “We…had some bad news today. I think he’s taking it hard.”

“Ah.”

She tensed, waiting for him to ask, dreading having to tell the story, or worse, tell him it was none of his business. But he didn’t ask.

He looked around. “It’s nice to be home.”

“Really?” She shot a sideways glance his way. “I didn’t think you were ever going to come back.”

He stared silently out the side window. “I wasn’t sure if I ever was either.”

“It’s been a long time.”

“Yeah. It has.” He nodded. “The funny thing is, I was planning on coming back to the States next month anyway. A gallery in L.A. is having a show of my work.”

“Oh, wow! That’s great, Nate.”

He shrugged. “Not much point in going now.”

“But, you have to go. It’s your show.”

He turned to her, and she felt the intensity of his eyes even though she couldn’t see them. She wished she could. She hated it when she couldn’t see people’s eyes. He shook his head. “I don’t think I can face people like this.”

She licked her lips, unsure what to say. “Maybe you’ll be better by then.”

Again, his shoulders lifted. “Who knows.”

“What do the doctors say?”

“They have no fucking idea.” The harshness in his voice had her shrinking into her seat. “They think I’ll get better, but they don’t know when.”

“Oh, Nate. They would never tell you they think you’ll get better if they weren’t pretty sure.”

“Whatever.” He looked out the side window.

Another man in her life was hurting, dealt a crappy hand in the poker game of life, and she couldn’t make it better, didn’t know how to make him feel better. This one wasn’t even her fault, but she ached for him anyway.

Where the hell was Derek? And what was the bad news they’d just gotten? Krissa looked like she’d been crying. Were they fighting? Nate’s gut tightened. He didn’t need more shit in his life right now. Maybe coming here had been a big mistake.

He couldn’t think of anywhere else to go. He’d been a loner, a nomad for so long, traveling the globe, taking his pictures. Derek and Krissa had been his best friends, years ago, but he hadn’t been much of a friend in return, taking off, barely taking the time to e-mail them to let them know he was okay.

Ironically, his professional successes had piled one on top of another despite the pain and agony in his personal life. Until now.

Nate watched Krissa drive. He’d forgotten how beautiful she was. Her slender arms were bare, muscles shifting under golden skin as she turned the wheel. Her small nose and firm chin created a sweet profile, long lashes fluttering as her eyes moved from the road to the rearview mirror, ahead again.

There was a time when he’d envied Derek. When they’d both met Krissa, and Derek had immediately put the moves on her. If Derek hadn’t…well, that’d been a long time ago.

Krissa drove down a circular street lined with huge Mediterranean-style houses. Nate hadn’t been home since she and Derek had sold their cottage near the beach in Santa Barbara and moved to this Montecito mansion. Derek’s real estate business was apparently doing well—Nate was sure these houses were all easily worth two or three million.

She pulled into a driveway, facing double garage doors. The white stucco house topped with red clay tiles stretched wide on either side of the garage and towered above them.

“Here we are,” she announced.

She led the way into the house, disarmed an alarm system, and Nate followed her into a cool and quiet foyer with a high ceiling. Gleaming hardwood floors stretched in front of them, to the left into the dining room and to the right into the living room. The delicious aroma of red wine and beef teased his sense of smell.

He followed Krissa into a huge open space at the rear of the house, a family room and kitchen, bright and white, with light wood cupboards. A wall of windows stretched across the back of the house, revealing spectacular ocean views.

“Wow.” He set his bags down. He lowered the glasses on his nose to get a better look at the stunning house, but despite the setting sun so much light flooded in he had to push them back up.

Krissa smiled faintly. “We’re still working on it,” she said. “We just moved in six months ago.”

“It’s awesome, Krissa.”

“Thanks. I’ll show you your room.”

She led the way upstairs, down a hall, past one, two…Christ, how many bedrooms? At least four. Maybe five. “Here you go.” She stood aside to let him enter the last room on the right. “Oh. Let me get the blinds.”

She crossed the room, and lowered the room-darkening shades on the window, submerging them in darkness. She bent down on flicked on the lamp beside the bed. “Is that okay?”

He nodded, slowly removed his glasses. His eyes were drawn to Krissa, standing there in a tiny pair of white shorts and pink tank top. She wrapped her arms around herself as if she was cold. Her glossy dark hair hung around her shoulders and down her back, and even in the soft light he could see the sparkle in her green eyes.

“This is fine, Kris. I hope I’m not inconveniencing you.”

“Of course not.” But he could tell she wasn’t being completely honest with him. Something was going on. “We’re happy to have you and I’m glad you called us. That’s what friends are for, right?”

“Right.”

“Are you hungry? I had dinner all ready, but…” Her throat moved as she swallowed.