All the Right Places (RILEY O'BRIEN & CO #1) (32 page)

Ten years later

Quinn grabbed his oldest son by the waistband of his jeans as he ran by, pulling him to an abrupt halt. He turned him so he could look into his brown eyes.

“Stop kicking your brothers.”

Jamie scowled, the action distorting his little face and making the freckles on it dance. “They’re annoying,” he complained, pushing a sweaty red curl off his forehead.

Quinn laughed. “Yeah, I know.”

He pulled Jamie down beside him on the bench, which was situated near one of the larger playgrounds in Golden Gate Park. “Why don’t you sit here with me until Mommy gets back from the bathroom?”

He glanced toward his other children, who were edging toward the merry-go-round. Killian was old enough to play on it, but Liam was too little to enjoy it without an adult. Since Liam had a meltdown if he couldn’t do everything Killian did, Quinn knew he needed to distract them, fast.

“Boys! Come here,” he called.

Surprisingly they obeyed, trotting toward the bench. They stopped in front of him and Jamie, and he smiled down at them. With their dark hair and blue eyes, they were little replicas of him.

He tapped both of them on their noses, making them giggle. Killian climbed up on the bench beside Jamie, and Quinn situated Liam on his lap.

“Daddy, let’s play Who’s Wearing Rileys?” Killian suggested.

It was the same game Quinn had played with his dad, and now he played it with his own children. Killian’s suggestion made Jamie bounce on the bench and Liam squeal, the sound nearly splitting Quinn’s eardrums.

He winced, and they began to chant. “Rileys, Rileys, who’s wearing Rileys?”

Despite the ringing in his ears, he laughed. Liam still had trouble pronouncing words, and his sounded more like “Wileys.”

“Okay! Okay!” he said over their childish voices. “Who can spot a lady wearing Rileys?”

His sons immediately eyed all the women around them, staring at their butts. Even Liam got in on the action.

Jamie pointed. “There, there’s one,” he said, indicating a teenage girl who had just walked by with her boyfriend.

“Me, too,” Killian chimed in, pointing his dirt-crusted finger at one of the moms on the playground.

And so the game went for several minutes until his boys caught sight of their mommy on the walking path. Jamie and Killian jumped off the bench, and Quinn dropped Liam to the ground so he could join them.

“Mommy!” they called as they ran to her. “Mommy! Guess what we were doing.”

When they reached her, they gathered around her, hugging her legs and waist. Even though Jamie was only seven, the top of his head already reached Amelia’s shoulders.

Their ginger-haired son obviously took after the original Riley O’Brien. He was taller than all the other boys in his class and most of the ones in the grade above him, too. Quinn suspected there would be a lot of basketball games in their future.

Amelia’s laughter floated to where he sat, followed by the low murmur of her voice. Like always, his heart gave a big thump when he saw his wife and his children together.

All mine.

His family headed toward him, the boys skipping and running around Amelia as she slowly made her way to the bench. He would never tell her, but she was waddling, just a little.

As the boys ran off to the playground, she dropped down onto the bench beside him, exhaling loudly. With one eye on the kids, he reached over and rubbed her belly. “How’s Baby Girl O’Brien doing?”

“She’s fine, but my back hurts. I’m ready for her to come out.”

He made a sympathetic noise, and she leaned her head against his shoulder. “My maternity jeans barely fit,” she groused.

He stifled a smile. He’d heard that complaint before.

He vividly recalled the day Amelia had told him she was pregnant with their first child. He’d gone to visit her in the Riley Plaza workshop, and he had noticed a pair of Rileys with a big stretchy waistband on her worktable.

“Are you thinking we should expand into maternity wear?” he’d asked.

Their efforts to transform the women’s division had been going well and they had stolen some market share from their fiercest competitors. He’d thought Amelia was onto something . . . that maternity wear could be a good way to expand their product offerings.

She had slanted an amused look toward him. “They’re for me.”

“Why would you wear them?” he’d asked.

Her eyebrows had lifted mockingly. “Why do you think?”

Eight years later, Quinn was still embarrassed by how clueless he’d been.

A strong breeze blew one of Amelia’s curls against his face, pulling him out of the past and into the present. He brushed the strands from his stubble and settled his arm around her shoulders.

“Jake forwarded the preliminary third-quarter numbers to me last night,” he said. “Riley O’Brien & Co. officially had its best quarter ever.”

“Congratulations.” She kissed his cheek, her lips warm and soft against his skin. “Apparently, you’re not just a pretty face.”

He squeezed her shoulder. “Neither are you. The women’s division also had its best quarter ever. It now accounts for seventy-five percent of all revenue.”

“The biggest branch on the tree,” she murmured as she rubbed her belly.

“The biggest and the strongest.”

As he placed his hand on top of hers, he felt the baby shift under his palm. They had planned to name their daughter Keira Grace, a moniker they both liked a lot. But then Ava Grace had begged them not to curse their child with two first names, so now they were rethinking the decision.

Regardless of what they named her, Quinn was excited for her to arrive. He had waited a long time to finally have a little girl, and he couldn’t wait to see if she would have her mother’s beautiful red hair and chocolaty eyes. He really hoped she would.

“Are you sad that you missed your grand opening?” he asked.

Amelia had opened her first boutique nearly eight years ago when she’d been pregnant with Jamie. That store, located in San Francisco’s Fillmore Street shopping district, had been a huge success. It had given Amelia the confidence to roll out an entire chain of Millie boutiques. Her twenty-fifth store had celebrated its grand opening today in Austin, Texas, but with the baby due at any time, it hadn’t been safe for her to make the trip.

She shook her head. “It’s not a big deal. There will be more grand openings.” She gave him a sideways glance. “But there will
not
be any more children.”

He chuckled. “If I remember correctly, that’s exactly what you said after Killian kept us up all night for seven weeks straight. And look where we are today—three little O’Briens and another one on the way.”

He scanned the playground to make sure their little boys were safe and sound. “By the way, Teagan’s going to pick up the boys later today so we can have some alone time before we have four children demanding our attention.”

She groaned softly. “I have no idea how we’re going to do it.” She shook her head. “I don’t know why I let you convince me to try one more time for a girl. I’m an idiot.”

He nuzzled her hair. “You didn’t require a lot of convincing, Juice.”

She giggled, tilting her head so he could nibble on her earlobe. “You’re a terrible influence on me, Quinn O’Brien.” She lightly jabbed him in the ribs. “And you’re a terrible influence on our children. The boys said y’all were playing Who’s Wearing Rileys? I thought we agreed that staring at behinds was not the polite thing to do.”

Pulling her closer, he rubbed her arm. “Do you know your ass was the first thing I noticed about you?”

She jerked away from him. “The first thing?” she asked incredulously. “We were facing each other when Teagan introduced us.”

“That wasn’t the first time I saw you. I was behind you on the escalator that morning.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “How could I
not
notice your ass? It was right in front of my face, so round and perfect.”

She snorted. “After four pregnancies, it’s not so perfect anymore.” She darted a quick glance toward the playground to make sure their kids were still alive and kicking. “It’s definitely rounder though.”

He grinned but continued to share one of his fondest memories. “I wanted to reach out and squeeze it . . . until I realized you weren’t wearing Rileys.”

“You should be ashamed,” she admonished. “You’re obsessed with butts.”

“Yeah, they were my favorite part of the body.”

She shot him a quizzical glance. “Butts aren’t your favorite part of the body anymore?”

“No.” He kissed the corner of her mouth. “I’m more of a heart man nowadays.”

Her rosy lips turned up in a small smile. “I’ll make sure to remind you of that fact the next time you grab my
butt.”

Turn the page for a sneak peek at the next Riley O’Brien & Co. novel,

Coming Apart at the Seams

Coming soon from Berkley
Sensation!

San Francisco—Present Day

Blunder. Gaffe. Misstep. Error. Snafu. Although plenty of words described the huge, life-altering mistake Nick Priest had made, none of them quite conveyed his stupidity. He’d had a chance with Teagan O’Brien, but he’d blown it. That was his biggest regret, and he had a lot of them.

As he stared at her across the ballroom, he had to remind himself to breathe. Her long red dress clung to her curvy body, just tight enough to make every man in the room wish his pants were a little looser behind the zipper.

She reminded him of a starlet from the 1950s with her abundant breasts, narrow waist, and round hips. He’d had the pleasure of shaping those hips with his hands, tonguing her rosy nipples, and sinking into her luscious body, although pleasure didn’t really describe what he’d felt when he had been with her.

She laughed, her deep blue eyes glinting in the light from the chandeliers, and her date leaned closer, licking his lips as he got an eyeful of her tits. Nick clenched his hands into fists, barely controlling the urge to ram the fucker’s head into the wall.

For more than a year and a half, he had been trying to persuade Teagan to give him another chance. But she hated
him with all the passion she’d given him during their one and only night together.

He thought about approaching her but discarded the idea. She had become a master at avoiding him, and she would find a reason to excuse herself immediately.

Forcing himself to relax, he settled more comfortably against the wood-paneled wall. He wasn’t trying to blend in. He knew that was impossible.

His face and form were highly recognizable from years of playing pro football, and most recently, appearing in commercials for Riley O’Brien & Co., the nation’s oldest designer and manufacturer of blue jeans. Since he’d thrown his lot in with the company, he had figured he ought to attend the annual holiday party. Plus, he had known Teagan would be here.

This wasn’t the first O’Brien celebration he had attended. He’d known the family for about fifteen years. He had played football with Quinn O’Brien at the University of Southern California, and he had formed friendships with both Quinn and his younger brother, Cal.

The O’Brien brothers were Nick’s best friends, two of his favorite people. But his absolute favorite person was their little sister, Teagan. He’d known her almost as long as he had known Quinn and Cal, and before he’d messed things up, they had been friends. Best friends, in fact.

He let his gaze wander the ballroom of the Westin St. Francis in downtown San Francisco. With its lavish holiday decorations, it could have been any company party. But the huge photo banners hanging from the ceiling made this one unique.

Every black-and-white image showed a different view of Riley O’Brien & Co.’s signature blue jeans. He was pretty sure the jean-clad ass in the photos was his own.

He chuckled wryly. The banners proved what he’d always known: he was nothing but a giant ass. He had no doubt Teagan would wholeheartedly agree with that assessment.

Teagan’s date touched a curl that had fallen to her shoulder, and Nick growled under his breath when the fucker stroked the smooth skin of her upper chest. He would rather take a direct hit from a three-hundred-and-fifty-pound linebacker than watch that loser put his hands on her. Hell, he’d
rather be buried under the entire defensive line than suffer the torture of watching another man paw the woman he wanted for himself.

Moving his gaze from her body, he focused on her face. Her full lips were painted a deep scarlet that matched her dress, and he took a moment to remember the taste of her mouth, addictive in its sweetness.

Her wavy, dark hair was pulled into an elaborate updo, emphasizing her graceful neck and smooth shoulders, which were bared by her strapless dress. Years ago, he’d had his mouth on that supple skin before he had trailed his tongue down into her creamy cleavage.

“Priest.”

Jerking his head toward the voice, he was surprised to find Quinn standing next to him. Nick mustered a smile for his old friend, clasping the hand he offered and slapping him on the back.

“It’s good to see you,” Quinn said. “I’m glad you could make it.”

Nick hadn’t been sure if he would be able to attend the party. His schedule had depended on whether his team made the playoffs. But they’d lost their last three games, dashing those hopes.

Although it didn’t reflect well on him, he hadn’t cared much that his team wasn’t heading to the playoffs. He was ready to move on, and although he had yet to announce it publicly, he’d decided to retire. He had given enough of his life to the game, and it had given him what he had needed in return. Now, he needed something else.

He needed Teagan.

A waiter passed with champagne, and Nick plucked a crystal flute from the tray. “Congrats. Times two,” he said, tapping his glass against Quinn’s highball.

Only days ago, Quinn had officially taken over as president and CEO of Riley O’Brien & Co. More important, he’d become engaged to Amelia Winger, a sweet little thing with a real talent for fashion design.

“Thanks,” Quinn said, a big grin on his face. “I’m a lucky man. A
very
lucky man.”

His happiness was almost tangible, and Nick experienced
a stab of envy, not because the other man didn’t deserve to be happy, but because he wasn’t. Far from it.

The two of them slouched side by side with their backs against the wall. The party was in full swing, the band wailing away and the dance floor packed. Hundreds of people milled around the ballroom, the men dressed in dark suits and the women garbed in cocktail dresses. It was one of the few times Riley O’Brien & Co. employees had to dress up. Usually, they all wore Rileys and T-shirts.

Quinn scanned the crowd, visibly relaxing when he spotted his redheaded fiancée. The look on his face was a mix of pride, possession, and adoration. The guy was obviously head over heels in love with his future bride.

Pulling his attention from Amelia, Quinn looked toward Nick. “Listen, Priest, I need to talk with you about something important.”

He tensed. As far as he knew, the O’Brien brothers were still unaware that he and Teagan had hooked up. He really had no idea how they would react if they discovered the truth.

He nodded, silently directing Quinn to continue. He preferred to say as little as possible so he could hide the severe stutter that had plagued him since childhood.

Quinn was one of the few people who knew about his speech impediment. They’d spent too much time together over the years for the other man not to notice, but he’d never said anything about it. He wondered if they were drawn to each other by the simple fact that Quinn talked too much and Nick didn’t talk enough.

“I’ve persuaded Amelia to have a short engagement, and we’re in a hurry to nail down the wedding plans.”

Nick stifled a grin. He had little doubt how Quinn had persuaded Amelia.

“Cal is my best man, and I’d like you to be my one and only groomsman.”

He studied the groom-to-be. He knew it wasn’t manly to admit it, but he loved Quinn like a brother. It would be an honor to stand beside him as he made his wedding vows.

Of course he didn’t tell Quinn any of this because it required too many words. It was too much effort to get his brain and his mouth to work together. They were enemies.

“Okay.” He focused on shaping the sound that caused him the most problems. “W-w-w-when is the w-w-w-wedding?”

“The first Saturday in March.” Quinn sighed. “Ten long weeks away.”

Nick chuckled. Compared to the time he’d spent chasing Teagan, ten weeks was nothing. A hit from the kicker instead of a thumping from a linebacker.

“When are you heading back home?” Quinn asked.

Nick shrugged. He had played for the Tennessee Titans for the past two years, and he currently lived in an upscale suburb outside of Nashville. But now that the season was over, nothing prevented him from staying in San Francisco as long as he wanted. As long as it took.

Quinn narrowed his eyes. “Where are you spending Christmas?”

“Not sure.”

“With your dad?”

He laughed, the sound shaded with bitterness he didn’t bother to hide. “No.”

“Why don’t you stay and celebrate Christmas with us? You know Mom and Dad would love to have you.” When he didn’t reply, Quinn punched him on the shoulder. “And Amelia and I are having a New Year’s Eve–slash-engagement party. You can’t miss that.”

Quinn had unknowingly given Nick the perfect opportunity to spend more time with Teagan. It was more than he could ever have hoped for.

•   •   •

Teagan’s feet hurt, her head pounded, and her face ached from the fake smile she’d pasted on hours ago. She grabbed another glass of champagne from a passing waiter and downed it in one swallow, hoping the alcohol would dull the pain.

It had been a huge mistake to bring Evan to the company’s holiday party. In the span of three hours, he’d transformed from a man into an octopus. What else could explain the sliminess she felt when he touched her?

Evan had seemed like a decent guy when she’d met him at an ugly Christmas sweater party. He and his sweater, a
truly hideous garment that illustrated the twelve days of Christmas, had caught her eye.

When he’d asked for her number, she’d given it to him without a thought, and she had forgotten about him until he had called a few days ago. He’d asked her out, and she’d suggested they attend the party together.

She hadn’t wanted his company, not really. But she had been afraid Nick would be here, and she’d thought a date would be a good buffer.

Teagan didn’t trust herself to be within one hundred miles of Nick. No matter how hard she tried to force her body and mind to work together, they just didn’t agree. Her mind knew best. It wanted to stay far away from him. But her body . . . Oh, it wanted him so badly.

His hard kisses, his hot caresses, his deep thrusts.

It had been years since they’d been together, but she remembered it like it was yesterday. She remembered everything—his taste, his scent, his size.

Warmth trickled between her legs, and she scowled. She
hated
Nick Priest. She hated him for breaking her heart. She hated him for not being there when she had needed him most.

She hated the way her body came alive when he was near. She hated the way her mind always found its way to him when it was left to wander. And most of all, she hated herself for letting him get to her after all this time.

She shifted on her heels, using the pain to force her thoughts from Nick. She looked around the room. Where was Evan?

She wanted to leave, and she needed to let him know she intended to take a cab back to her place. She planned to go home and enjoy a long soak in the tub, and she wasn’t up to fending off octopus man.

Teagan rubbed her forehead with the tips of her fingers but stilled when someone came up behind her. She knew without looking it was Nick. She instinctively recognized his scent and the heat of his body.

Stiffening slightly, she tried to move away from him. But he moved closer, placing his hand on her waist to stop her. He leaned down close to her ear, and his breath made her shiver.

“Stay,” he ordered quietly.

“I’m not a dog,” she snapped.

He chuckled softly. “Stay,” he repeated, dropping his hand to her hip and squeezing lightly to emphasize his command.

A flash of energy traveled from his fingers to all the nerve-rich places on her body—her nipples, her clit, her lips. Desperate to get away from him, she jerked sharply and stumbled into Amelia.

“Whoa!” Quinn exclaimed as he caught his fiancée against him.

Teagan blinked in surprise. She hadn’t even noticed her older brother was nearby. He glared at her, his protective instincts on high alert.

“Be careful, T. You almost knocked Amelia over.”

She managed to squeeze out an apology, and Nick, damn him, resumed his place behind her. He loomed over her by several inches even though she wore five-inch heels. His height made him one of the best wide receivers in the NFL.

Amelia stared over Teagan’s head, her brown eyes speculative. “Nick, I thought I’d see you here,” she said, a faint Texas twang in her voice. “How have you been?”

“Fine,” he said, drawing out the word, his baritone rumbling through Teagan’s body.

“I was sorry to see you guys didn’t make the playoffs,” Amelia said. “But there’s always next year.”

Teagan felt Nick shrug. “Not for me.”

At his announcement, Teagan, Amelia, and Quinn all chorused “What?” in varying volumes. Teagan’s definitely had been the loudest.

She jerked away from Nick, and this time, he let her go. She spun to face him, and even though she struggled to digest the bomb he’d dropped on them, she noticed how his expensive black suit outlined his broad shoulders. The dark color made his blond hair look even lighter, and his blue French dress shirt showed off his tan.

“What are you talking about?” she asked, staring into the face she dreamed about almost every night.

He was gorgeous—beyond gorgeous.

He knew it; of course he did. But unlike a lot of extraordinarily handsome men, he didn’t seem to care much about his looks.

“I’ve decided to . . . um . . . retire,” he said.

She gasped. “Why?”

“It’s time.”

“What are you going to do?” Quinn asked.

“Not sure,” Nick replied, running a hand through his short hair.

Her hands itched to touch the silky strands. He’d cut his hair since she had seen him a few weeks ago, and the color seemed to change depending on the length. Right now, his hair was a mix of honey and caramel, and as it grew out, it would turn lighter, almost the shade of morning sunshine.

Quinn cocked his head, staring at Nick with a calculating look. He turned toward Amelia.

“Juice,” he said, using his nickname for his bride-to-be, “did you know Priest has a degree in American history from USC?”

Amelia smiled, showing the sizable gap between her front teeth. “No, I didn’t know that.”

“Priest, you didn’t know my grandma Violet, but she was an interesting woman. Kind of eccentric. She was ten times richer than my grandpa Patrick, maybe even a hundred times richer. The O’Briens made their money as clothing prospectors, but her family actually found gold.”