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Tom and Olivia stood on the stoop. Olivia held out a white paper bag. “We brought dessert to go with the coffee.”

Mark took the bag and stepped back, gesturing them inside. He preceded them into the kitchen. “What have we got here?” he asked, opening the bag. Inside were flaky pastries of layered phyllo dough stuffed with walnuts, honey, cinnamon and raisins. Delighted, he enthused, “Baklava! One of my favorites.”

“We bought it at that new Greek bakery down on Comm. Ave.,” Olivia said, smiling.

Mark pulled out one of his grandmother’s old china plates patterned with the family monogram and set the pastries on it. “Put this on the table, will you? The coffee will be done in a minute.” He handed the plate to Tom and pointed toward the large round table set in the corner of the kitchen his grandmother referred to as the breakfast nook.

“Can I help you get anything?” Olivia asked, hovering nearby. He could smell her perfume, a light floral scent, along with the clean smell of her freshly washed hair still slightly damp. He glanced at her, taking in the sleeveless blouse and loose, flowing skirt that fell nearly to her ankles. On her feet were slim sandals of soft brown leather. Her toenails were painted a pale pink. He looked up into her face, smiling as he saw the flush there—she’d been aware of his scrutiny.

The three of them sat at the table, Olivia between the two men. They made small talk for a while as they ate the sticky, sweet dessert and sipped the strong espresso from tiny china cups. Mark could feel the sexual undercurrent that ran beneath the conversation like a river rushing below a bridge. Olivia and Tom kept glancing at one another, their eyes sparking with a shared secret. Mark was reasonably sure he could guess what it was. He was curious to see how they would approach it.

Tom was the first to directly broach the subject. They had moved from the table to the living room, the three of them settling comfortably on the large sofa facing the now-empty stone fireplace. Mark offered them each a snifter of fine Cognac and poured one for himself.

“Olivia and I were talking about what happened this afternoon on the boat.”

“Did something happen?” Mark smiled into his brandy, waiting.

“Something could have. Something nearly did.” Tom blew out a breath, as if gathering courage to continue. Mark looked at him, smiling gently. The guy really was extremely good-looking with all that straight light brown hair falling over into his very blue eyes. They were an exotic, unusual blue—the jewel-like blue of a bird’s plumage. His expression was so earnest, so likable. It was hard to tease him.

“Yes,” he admitted, recalling Olivia’s erect nipples, her parted legs and the “come hither” look on her face. He recalled Tom’s erection, poking against his swim trunks, mirroring Mark’s own rising desire.

“Here’s the thing, Mark. Olivia and I are in love with each other.”

“Of course,” Mark said softly. He glanced at Olivia, who was nibbling on a nail. She wore no makeup and needed none, her skin kissed by the sun, her thick blonde lashes lowered over those amazing green-gold eyes. She looked very young—nearly as young as the nineteen-year-old girl he might have fallen in love with if he’d taken the time.

Tom plowed on. “Something happened out there today on the water. Something that surprised us both—intrigued us both. We’ve never really thought about the possibility of bringing someone else into our relationship. You know, uh…” Tom paused, blushing slightly.

Here it comes, Mark thought, trying to keep his expression neutral.

“Sexually,” Tom finished. He waited, clearly expecting a response. Olivia bit more furiously on her nail until Tom reached over, gently touching her arm. She dropped her hand and bit her lips instead, looking down at her lap.

Mark waited several beats for Tom to elaborate, or for Olivia to pick up the thread. Instead they both sat, silent as nervous school children waiting for the headmaster’s decree.

“I’m not entirely sure what you’re saying to me. Are you saying now you are considering the possibility of bringing someone else into your relationship, to use your words? Are you saying the person you want to bring in is me?”

“Yes!” Olivia blurted. They both turned to stare at her as she colored prettily. Mark was unable to hide his grin. She was utterly adorable, her innocence palpable. He would have to be careful with these two, very careful.

“You’re interested in—what exactly?” He kept his focus on Tom. “A little bi-curious experimentation?” Now it was Tom’s turn to blush. Mark waited for the heated denial, for the insistence the focus be on Olivia.

To his surprise, Tom said softly, “Perhaps. I wouldn’t rule it out. We wouldn’t rule anything out. What I mean is, we talked it over. We both find you very attractive and we’re reasonably certain, from your behavior on the water, you’re attracted to us as well.” When Mark didn’t respond immediately, Tom added, “I mean, that’s the impression we were left with. If I’m totally off-base, let me know. No hard feelings and I hope no offense taken. This is all very new to both of us. We realize we’re not as worldly as you are. I know we might be misreading your cues. That’s why we wanted to talk, straight out, about what’s going on between the three of us.”

“An admirable decision,” Mark said, and he meant it. “It’s important to be upfront about this sort of thing. Especially when love’s in the mix. I would never want to do anything to get in the way of your relationship. If we were to do anything, that is.”

“If…” said Olivia, looking at him. He hadn’t been lying when he’d compared her beauty to Guinevere’s—the rosy lips, the dark golden hair, the long heavy-lidded green-gold eyes. He imagined her in a form-fitting medieval gown of blue silk, hugging her lush breasts, molding to her long, narrow waist and spilling over her feminine hips to hide the naked, smooth flesh beneath…