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“So you are.”

Olivia bent down and removed her heels. She held them up for Fallon’s inspection. “Heels,” she began, “And whiskey are not a good marriage.”

Fallon bit her lip to keep from laughing. “Is there such a thing as agoodmarriage?” Fallon bantered.

“Yes. Wine and cheese,” Olivia replied, leaning into Fallon. “Or cheese and anything. Whiskey and cheese!” she declared.

Fallon chuckled. “Let’s get you a seat before you topple over.”

Olivia laughed, a melodic sound that made Fallon’s heart skip a beat. Fallon guided Olivia onto a barstool, taking a moment to appraise her brother’s friend. It was easy to seehow Olivia had captivated Dean. She wascaptivating.Her high cheekbones and smooth brown skin complemented a pair of engaging hazel eyes that sparkled with mischief and intelligence. Her hair fell in a tumble of dark curls just above her shoulders. Fallon felt an immediate pull of attraction, stronger than she’d experienced in a long time.

Fallon politely asked the bartender for two glasses of water.

“My hero,” Olivia proclaimed. “How ever will I repay you?”

“I’m sure you’ll think ofsomething,” Fallon bantered back. “Though I’d settle for you not falling off that stool, for starters.”

“No promises,” Olivia said, offering Fallon a wink. “At least I know someone is here to save me.”

“Somehow, I doubt you require much saving.”

Olivia leaned closer to Fallon. “What we need and what werequireare not always the same things.”

Fallon swallowed a growing lump in her throat. It was no wonder Dean raved about Olivia Nolan. And where was Dean, anyway? Not that she was complaining about this one-on-one time with his captivating friend.

Olivia leaned close. “So, tell me, Fallon Foster, what makes a successful investment broker leave the city for the sticks? I sense a story.”

“Oh, I’m full of stories,” Fallon replied. “Somehow, I doubt mine are as interesting as yours.”

Olivia threw her head back and laughed. “What exactly has Dean told you about me?”

“Not as much as he’s apparently told you about me,” Fallon said. “Although the way he sings your praises, I’ve started to wonder if there’s a hidden choir boy behind his army uniform.”

Olivia snorted. “I’m sorry. I have this vision of Dean wearing a tunic.”

“I’m positive I don’t want to know what you two are talking about,” Dean said as he came up behind them.

Fallon shrugged.

“Were you ever a choir boy?” Olivia asked him.

“You mean like in a church?” Dean asked. “No. I was an altar boy.”

That did it. Olivia fell onto the bar laughing.

“Why is that so strange?”

“You’re full of shit,” Fallon said. “We’re not even Catholic.”

“I’ve prayed at a few altars,” Dean quipped. “Not as many as you…”

“Jealousy doesn’t become you,” Fallon replied

Olivia looped her arm around Fallon’s. “I like her,” she told Dean. “She reminds me of you, only sexier with a sense of humor.”

Fallon pulled herself from the memory. “I’d never met anyone like her,” she told Angela.

“She said the same thing about you.”