Coming Apart at the Seams (16 page)

Maybe they weren't serious. Maybe they weren't having sex.

Nick shook his head. There was no way a normal, red-blooded man could spend so much time with Teagan and not want to fuck her. God knew he wanted to, over and over again.

Teagan placed her hand over his, lightly squeezing his fingers. He looked up as she leaned forward, and his eyes dropped to her cleavage. The pale skin between her breasts seemed to shimmer, enticing him to taste it.

“Nick, are you okay? You're even quieter than usual.” She grimaced. “I talked the whole way here, and now I'm talking some more. You're probably bored to death.”

He shook his head. She
never
bored him. He found her fascinating, the way her mind worked and the way it led her from one thought to another. He loved to hear her voice, loved to learn her opinions on any subject, from potatoes to politics.

“Not bored,” he said emphatically.

She smiled and stroked the top of his hand. Her touch shot through him like an electric current, and he casually moved his hand away from her.

“So what did you do today?”

“Visited the kids.”

The first year he'd played for Denver, the team had partnered with the local children's hospital for a charity dinner. All the players were required to attend the event, as well as a party at the hospital.

Being around the kids, even though they were sick, made him feel good. It was so easy to make them happy. They didn't care if he could talk or not. They were just glad to see him.

From that moment on, he'd made a point to stop by at least once a week during off-season to hang out. When he'd moved to Boston, he had continued with his routine. He never scheduled the visits. He kept it low key because he didn't want the media to make a big deal out of it.

He always brought a bag full of team gear to distribute and stayed to toss around a football or play videogames. Occasionally, he painted fingernails and toenails for the girly girls, and when his hair was long enough, he let them play beautician. More than once, he'd ended up looking like a Rastafarian.

“You have a hard candy shell and a gooey marshmallow center,” Teagan teased, a big grin on her face.

He frowned, disliking her description of him. Hanging out with sick kids didn't make him a nice guy. He got more out of the visits than they did. He was too selfish to do something truly altruistic. He always had been, and he always would be.

Why do these things always happen to me? And why do they have to happen when I'm with Nick?

Teagan stared down at the tall patent leather heel that had been attached to her shoe just seconds ago. Now it was stuck in a crack in the sidewalk.

She, meanwhile, had to suffer the freezing concrete in her stockinged feet because it was impossible to wear one five-inch heel and one flat shoe. Nick stood beside her, his hands on his hips and a bemused expression on his face.

“How the hell did that happen?” he asked, shaking his head.

She bent down to try to pull the heel from the sidewalk, and Nick jerked her upright, muttering a curse under his breath. He was a little rough with her, and she frowned. He'd been acting weird all night, and she didn't have any idea why. It wasn't as if she'd forced him to take her out for her birthday.

Squatting down, he wrenched the heel from the crack. As he rose, he handed it to her, and she wrapped her fingers around it, barely controlling the urge to impale herself with the sharp end.

Once again, her clumsiness had ruined an outing with Nick. One moment, they'd been talking as they waited for the valet attendant to bring his Escalade, and the next moment she had been hanging on to him for dear life as her heel snapped off.

Thanks to her faulty footwear, they wouldn't be able to go to the club. She wouldn't be able to sit close to Nick and listen to bluesy music. She wouldn't be able to slow dance with him, their bodies pressed together so tightly she could feel his heat all around her.

She was so disappointed tears prickled the backs of her eyes. She pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth to push them back because she didn't want Nick to see her cry, especially since he'd probably think she was sobbing over her stupid broken shoe.

The maroon SUV came to a stop in front of them, and Nick pulled open the door for her. She angrily tossed her shoes and purse in, and he raised a dark blond eyebrow before offering his hand and helping her into the vehicle.

Clicking her seat belt in place, she turned to look out the window. She wished she were someone else and somewhere else—maybe a tall, skinny blonde lounging in Nick's bed.

Nick stepped into the SUV, and the valet attendant shut the door, cocooning them in silence. She shivered a little, and he turned on the heat full blast toward their feet.

“T, it's not a big deal,” he said, his voice soothing. “Let's grab another pair of shoes and then go to the club.”

“No,” she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest.

He laughed softly at her pique, and she ground her teeth together in an effort to stop herself from yelling at him. Even though she knew it was irrational, she was burning mad at Nick. Why, she didn't know.

She was so . . . so . . . so . . .
hot
for him. She was angry because she was sexually frustrated. She was a keg of dynamite just waiting to be lit, and Nick didn't have a match.

She growled under her breath at that inaccurate statement. Nick had a match. He just didn't have one for
her
keg. Marshall, on the other hand, definitely had one.

She'd been stupid to hope Nick would get a clue. He was never going to see her as anything but a friend, so she was going to go home, call Marshall, and let him do what he'd wanted to do for months.

“Stop,” she demanded. “I want to take a cab home.”

Nick slanted an amused glance toward her, which made her even angrier. She'd never thought she had a bad temper, but
clearly, she had deluded herself. She felt all kinds of new emotions with Nick, and right now, aggression flooded her veins.

“No,” he said, his voice mild.

“Yes,” she shouted, her voice echoing throughout the SUV.

Turning his head, he speared her with his brilliant green gaze. His expression was no longer amused.

“No,” he repeated, and this time his voice wasn't nearly so mild.

Knowing she had no choice, she pressed her lips together and turned away from him. They made the trip to her condo in silence, tension heavy in the SUV.

The moment Nick pulled up in front of her building, she grabbed her shoes and purse and jumped from his Escalade. She slammed the door shut without thanking him for a nice evening or even saying good-bye.

The sidewalk was freezing, and she hurried into the building. Stepping into the elevator, she hit the button for her floor before pulling her phone from her beaded clutch. As it ascended, she typed a text message to Marshall:
Are you busy?

The elevator chimed, letting her know she'd arrived. The doors opened, and suddenly Marshall stood in front of her.

“Oh! I just texted you.” She stepped out of the elevator. “What are you doing here?”

She didn't give him a chance to answer before stalking toward her condo. The moment she got him alone, she was going to rip off her clothes and his. She hoped he was ready because she was going to use his body all night long. And she wasn't going to pretend she was with Nick, either.

Marshall fell into step beside her, gesturing toward her shoeless feet. “What happened there?”

“Nothing,” she answered curtly.

She unlocked her door, and Marshall followed her inside, closing the door behind them. She threw down her shoes beside the door and tossed her purse and coat on the bar once she reached the kitchen.

Marshall gave her an appraising glance, starting at her feet and ending with her eyes. “You look gorgeous, Teagan. Absolutely stunning.”

She frowned. She'd spent four hours getting ready, and Nick hadn't said one word about her appearance. Not
one freaking
word
about her gorgeous new dress or her sexy new shoes, which were clearly defective.

She'd paid $427 for those damn patent leather heels, and she was going to demand her money back. But not until she'd spent all night having sex with Marshall.

“I stopped by to say hello, but it looks like you were out on a date.” He shook his head slightly. “This might not be the right time to talk about it, but I don't want you to date other guys. I want us to be exclusive.”

Teagan closed her eyes. She didn't want to have this conversation, not now, not when she was so emotional. She wasn't sure she had the finesse to say no without hurting his feelings.

“Marshall, it wasn't a date,” she said, a placating note in her voice. “I was out with Nick for my birthday. We're just friends, you know that.”

Even as she said it, she knew she lied. Nick was the reason why her relationship with Marshall had stalled.

He shook his head before gesturing toward her dress. “A woman doesn't dress like that to go out with a friend. You don't even dress like that to go out with
me
.”

She looked away, unable to dispute Marshall's claim. He was right. She only dressed this way for one man. She only bought sexy lingerie and new clothes for Nick. She only bought do-me heels for Nick.

Nick. Only Nick.

Marshall looked toward the gift bag and the jewelry box on the bar before eyeing her. “Did
Nick
give you that necklace?”

She touched the cool gems encircling her neck. “Yes.”

She had been surprised Nick had bought her a birthday present, although she didn't know why exactly. He had bought her gifts before—the jersey, the knitted cap, the cuddly bear.

But she had been more than surprised when she'd opened the box. She had been nearly speechless. Except for himself, he couldn't have given her a gift she would have liked more.

She'd never seen a more exquisite piece of vintage jewelry in her whole life, and she had seen a lot. She had no doubt he'd spent a lot of money on the gift, probably more than most people's annual salaries.

At first she had wondered if she should accept such an expensive present, but ultimately she'd decided to say “thank
you” instead of “no thank you.” She didn't know whether he bought jewelry for anyone else, but she figured she probably deserved it more than those other women, who cared only about the size of his penis or his bank account.

At least she loved Nick.

“
Jesus
, Teagan,” Marshall said, laughing incredulously and shaking his head. “That necklace is easily worth seventy grand, probably more. It's not something a man gives to a
friend
. It's something he gives to his girlfriend or his wife. Or his
lover
.”

She blinked at his vehemence. He was almost frothing at the mouth he was so upset.

“You're either lying to me or you're lying to yourself when you say that you and Nick are
just friends
,” he continued fiercely. “Which is it?”

She stared into his dark eyes, uncertain how to answer him. She was in love with Nick, but as far as Nick was concerned, they
were
“just friends.”

A sharp knock sounded at the front door, and both of them looked toward the sound. Scowling, Marshall stalked toward it, and she hurried after him. He flung open the door, his tall body filling the opening. Teagan peeked around him to see who was on the other side, gasping when she saw Nick.

Nick's eyes narrowed on Marshall, and his lips thinned when he saw her behind him. Edging Marshall out of the way, she moved in front of him.

She didn't know what to do. Should she step out in the hall to talk to Nick? Invite him in? Ask Marshall to leave?

Before she could make a decision, Nick stepped forward, almost steamrolling over her and Marshall. They were forced to shuffle backward into the foyer until they reached the living area.

She stood between Nick and Marshall, who glared at each other over her head. She felt like peanut butter between two slices of bread, so she stepped back and gestured toward Marshall.

“Marshall, this is Nick Priest. Nick, this is Marshall Brants. I've mentioned you to each other.”

Nick must have left his suit jacket and tie in his SUV because he was dressed only in his light gray dress shirt, charcoal suit pants, and leather dress shoes. The expensive cotton shirt clung to his arms and chest, outlining his musculature, and the dark trousers emphasized his height.

Marshall, meanwhile, was dressed casually in a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved plaid shirt. He was a good-sized guy, but Nick seemed so much larger and far more physically imposing.

Marshall slowly extended his right hand to Nick, but instead of accepting it, Nick put his hands on his hips and stared down at Marshall's hand as if it were covered in oozing sores. He met Marshall's gaze, tilting his head toward the door.

“Leave,” Nick demanded, his voice low and menacing. “
Now
.”

Marshall dropped his hand with a sound of disgust. “That's what I thought,” he said before beckoning Teagan toward him. “Walk me out.”

She hurried to comply, trailing after him as he strode down the hall. He pulled open the door and turned to face her. He hesitated for a moment, looking over her head. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Nick at the end of the hall, watching them with his arms crossed over his chest.

Marshall leaned closer and put his lips against her ear. “If Nick is just your friend, I'm the fucking Easter Bunny. He wants you. The only question is whether you want him. Do you?”

Teagan hesitated. She hadn't been fair to Marshall by dating him while she was in love with Nick, and she knew she'd behaved badly. He shook his head when she didn't answer him.

“Goddamn it,
” he said, running his hand through his dark hair. “Let me know when you figure it out.” He turned to walk down the hall, but he only took a few steps before looking over his shoulder. “I don't want to wait, but I will. You're worth it,” he muttered before striding off.

She slowly closed the door, leaning her forehead against the smooth wood. This was all Nick's fault. If not for him, she'd be in love with Marshall and one step closer to happily ever after.

Making her way back to the living room, she stopped in front of Nick. His hands were in his front pockets, his gaze focused on her face.

“Why are you here?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

He didn't answer, nor did he move a muscle or change his facial expression.

“I'm pretty sure we said good night,” she added. “Or at least it was implied when I slammed the car door.”

His eyes narrowed, and it took her a moment to realize he was angry.
Really angry.

Nick was a fairly easygoing guy, and she'd never seen him anything more than slightly annoyed. She wondered if he was angry because he was jealous.

Was Marshall right? Was it possible Nick actually felt more than friendship for her? And if he did, what was she going to do about it?

“Why were you so rude to Marshall? I can't believe you refused to even shake his hand. What's your problem?”

Clenching his jaw, he pulled his hands from his pockets and planted them on his hips. He rolled his lips inward as if he was trying to prevent himself from letting loose with a bunch of curse words.