Coming Apart at the Seams (9 page)

Bebe tapped the display case, drawing Teagan's attention. She tucked her memories of her grandmother and grandfather away for another time and place.

“I like this one better,” her best friend said, pointing to a necklace that featured delicate silver filigree studded with amethysts of varying sizes.

Bebe's favorite wasn't too surprising, since she was partial to purple. The other necklace was a spectacular example of 1920s Art Deco design with large emerald pendants set in gold.

Teagan ran her finger across one of the round lavender-colored stones, before tracing the emeralds. She loved both necklaces, and she was having a hard time deciding which one she preferred. Maybe she should employ some self-control and walk away without whipping out her Amex.

“I don't need any more jewelry,” she said, trying to talk herself out of buying anything.

“No one
needs
jewelry,” Bebe replied, laughing lightly. “It's a treat.”

Teagan disagreed. A treat would be spending the day with Nick, taking a leisurely drive through the countryside and stopping at a historic inn for dinner. A better treat would be ending the day with him in her bed, her hands gripping his tight behind as he moved inside her.

She shook her head in exasperation, fighting the urge to fan herself. She had it bad for Nick Priest.

Really bad.

Teagan was almost glad they were both too busy to see each other as much as they had during the summer. The more time she spent with him, the more she wanted him, even though she knew there was no chance of getting what she wanted.

And that was a good thing because she knew she wouldn't be able to handle Nick or his lifestyle. No matter where he went or what he did, he attracted women.

They stared at him with covetous, avaricious eyes. They propositioned him when Teagan stood right next to him. Usually he didn't notice the attention, and when he did, he ignored it . . . for the most part.

Teagan knew Nick's status as a pro athlete was part of his appeal. But even if he were an IRS agent or a trash collector, women would ogle him and try to get him into their beds.

If and when Nick decided to have a relationship, the woman he chose would have to be completely sure of her appeal so she didn't feel threatened. Of course, she'd probably be a famous model, so that wouldn't be a problem.

Teagan, meanwhile, did not possess the amount of confidence necessary to combat jealously and insecurity. Growing up, she'd been an ugly duckling in a family full of swans. Her mother was a cool blond beauty, while her father was a strikingly handsome man.

And if she evaluated Quinn and Cal objectively instead of through the lens of a little sister, she had to admit both of them were gorgeous—tall, dark, and handsome. Like Nick, they were head turners, and women were eager to drop their panties for them.

Teagan knew she'd outgrown her ugly duckling stage. But
it had lasted for so long that it still influenced the way she viewed herself.

She'd been in middle school when she had first realized she lacked the good looks the rest of her family had in abundance. When she'd lamented the fact to Grandma Vi, the older woman had reassured Teagan.

“Honey, you've got the O'Brien genes, don't you worry,” she'd said. “You just need to grow into them. One day, men are going to walk into walls when they get a look at you.”

So far, no man had been so intent on eyeballing Teagan that he'd crashed and burned, and she doubted that day would ever come. But Grandma Vi hadn't been completely wrong. Teagan
had
grown into her looks.

She'd learned to tame her thick, wavy hair, her skin had cleared up, and her braces were a long-ago memory. The extra weight she'd carried around her middle had shifted to her breasts and her hips, although her stomach was never going to be flat, and her thighs were never going to be trim.

Teagan knew she was reasonably attractive, but she wasn't stunning, not like the rest of her family. And she definitely wasn't on the same level as Nick and the women he dated casually—the women he touched intimately with those big, strong hands.

She was ashamed to admit she'd Googled Nick when she should have been studying. She'd spent hours reviewing photos of him online, paying particular attention to those that showed him with women. Unlike her brothers, who apparently liked variety, Nick had an obvious type: very tall, very blond, and very skinny.

The exact opposite of me.

Teagan sighed, disgusted with herself for wanting to be Nick's type. She needed therapy.
Retail
therapy.

“I'll take both necklaces.”

“Are you almost finished?” Nick growled, pacing around the kitchen in his condo.

“Yes, master—I mean, Nick,” Letty replied.

He glared at her, and she shot him a saucy grin before picking up a stack of aluminum food containers. She took her time arranging them in the large wicker picnic basket sitting on the granite island, and he fought the urge to demand that she hurry up.

He double-checked the time on his phone. He didn't want to be late picking up Teagan. He had a bye week, which meant no game, and they were going sailing.

Although he never made plans with Teagan in advance, he hadn't wanted to miss the opportunity to spend his one free Saturday with her, so he'd texted her earlier in the week to make sure she was available. The last couple of times he'd stopped by her condo, she hadn't been there, and he hadn't seen her in almost a month.

Crossing his arms over his chest, he tapped his foot impatiently as Letty grabbed a couple of cold packs from the freezer. She placed them carefully around the food before adding some cloth napkins, melamine plates, and utensils.

“Teagan must be really special,” Letty said.

Yes, she's special. She's unlike any other woman I know. She's smart and funny and interesting. And I love her laugh.

“Sailing is the perfect date,” Letty continued. “It's fun and romantic. And I made a feast for you two, lots of finger foods so you can feed each other tidbits. Hubba hubba.”

He stared at her. This wasn't a date. Where the
hell
had she gotten that idea?

Letty opened the fridge and pulled out two bottles. After wrapping them both in dishtowels, she placed them in the basket before closing the lid and fastening the latch.

“I thought chardonnay would be best for the meal, but I also packed a bottle of champagne if you really want to get in the mood,” she added with a big smile. “I included a corkscrew, too.”

He slapped his palms on the island in front of Letty, glowering at her. Her eyebrows shot up at his aggressive stance.

“I'm going sailing w-w-w-with Teagan.”

“I know,” she replied, her brow wrinkling in confusion.

“You know she's just a friend,” he said, his voice hard. “This isn't a d-d-d-date.”

Letty cocked her head and pursed her lips. “I think it's time for you to admit that you feel more than friendship for Teagan.”

He immediately wanted to refute her claim, but he had to wait for his mouth to catch up. “N-n-n-no, I don't.”

Teagan was his friend—nothing more. He was a guy, and it was perfectly natural for him to notice she was attractive. As long as he didn't act on it, it was not a problem.

Not. A. Problem.

“Nick, you're forgetting that I was here, working late, the night you found out her boss had attacked her. When you got home, you were a
mess
. You wouldn't have been that upset if you didn't care about her.”

Nick made a sound of frustration. He hated to think about that night . . . hated to think about anyone hurting Teagan.

“Of course I w-w-w-was upset. She's like f-f-f-family.”

Letty leaned against the island. She stared at him for several moments before patting the top of his hand.

“You're going to be late for your nondate. Get going.”

He nodded, relieved to put an end to the pointless and stupid conversation. Hefting the picnic basket, he rushed out of his condo and made the haul to Cambridge in record time.

He was busy looking for a parking space when he saw Teagan exit the building. She hurried toward his SUV, and he put it in park so he could get out and open the door for her. Before he could unbuckle his seatbelt, she opened the passenger door and jumped in.

He turned toward her, intending to say hello, and she leaned over at the same time. Her lips grazed his—soft, smooth, and luscious—before she gasped and jerked away.

Clenching his fists on the steering wheel, he fought the desire to cup his hand around her head and pull her mouth back to his. His lips tingled, and he tasted peppermint when he licked them.

She touched her fingers to her mouth briefly before dropping her hand to her lap. Her eyes were wide, and the look on her face could only be described as horrified.

If he'd ever wondered how Teagan would react if he pushed the boundaries of their friendship, he now had his answer. He told himself he didn't care because there were thousands of women who wanted to kiss him.

That's right—thousands.

“I'm sorry! I was aiming for your cheek!” she exclaimed, talking so fast her words almost tripped over each other. “I was t-t-t-trying to ki-ki-kiss your cheek like I always d-d-do!”

He stared at her, feeling as if he'd been thrust into a weird alternate reality. For a moment, she had sounded just like him.

He could tell that Teagan was appalled by their almost kiss, but he didn't want the whole day to be ruined. He needed this time with her. It was hard not to see her for weeks and weeks, and this outing was going to have to sustain him for a while.

“Go ahead.” He turned his head and pointed to his cheek. “P-p-p-plant one on me.”

Laughing softly, she leaned over and dropped a quick peck on his cheek. She drew back, grabbing the seat belt and clicking it in place.

“Let's go. I love to sail. I've been looking forward to it all week.”

He'd been looking forward to something all week, too: seeing her. He didn't give a flying fuck about sailing. Still, he was glad they were doing something she would enjoy.

Shifting the Escalade into drive, he headed toward the marina at a moderate speed. Now that Teagan was here with him, there was no need to rush.

After several minutes of silence, he glanced toward her as she stared out the window, tapping her lips with the tips of her fingers. He wondered why she wasn't talking. Whenever they drove somewhere, she usually chattered the whole way.

“T,” he said, just to get her attention.

He'd fallen into the habit of calling her by her first initial, just like her brothers.

But you're not her brother,
a little voice inside him whispered.

He sure as hell didn't need the reminder. He and his cock were well aware of that fact.

Dropping her hand, she shifted in the seat so she could look at him. “I talked to my mom last night. I told her we were going sailing, and she told me to say hi and give you a hug for her.”

Nick smiled. Kate was a hugger. In fact, all the O'Briens were huggers. It was how they said hello, good-bye, and almost everything in between.

Teagan continued, “She's renovating the kitchen, and I swear she spent forty-five minutes telling me about her new cabinets. She's decided to go with a color called ‘fresh sage,' which is basically light green. I asked if she was sure that green cabinets were a good idea, and she told me that I'm not adventurous enough.”

He chuckled. “Go on,” he prompted.

“I told her that I'm adventurous where it matters: the bedroom.”

He jerked his head toward her, certain she hadn't said what he thought he'd heard. Her blue eyes held a wicked little glint, and her glossy lips tipped up at the corners.

“You did not.”

He couldn't tell if she was joking, but it didn't really matter. Her words had already sunk into his head and settled into his groin.

“I did, too,” she replied, nodding emphatically.

“And?”

“After a few moments, during which I envisioned her mouth opening and closing like a pet goldfish, she said, ‘Good. I'm glad to hear it.'”

He guffawed. Teagan's laughter joined his, and the sound of it filled his chest until he felt weightless. Just like an astronaut floating in space.

*   *   *

“I think I'm in love,” Teagan said.

Nick choked, spewing a mouthful of chardonnay across the table. He hastily deposited his wineglass beside his plate and grabbed his napkin, pressing it to his mouth. As he fell into a coughing fit, Teagan reached over to pat his back.

Had he choked because of what she'd said? If so, she was definitely offended. Was it really so hard for him to imagine her in a romantic relationship? Just because she hadn't been on a date in a while didn't mean she was a loser in the romance department.

Did it?

She promised herself then and there she would start dating again, even if it meant she had to be the pursuer. The men in Cambridge better watch out.

After a few moments, Nick stopped coughing and dropped back against the striped seat cushions that ran along the sides of the boat. He cleared his throat loudly and inhaled.

“W-w-w . . .” He stopped and cleared his throat again. “With?”

“Letty, of course.”

“Letty,” he echoed.

Teagan nodded. “I've never had such delicious food. Not even at the best five-star restaurants. If she were here, I'd have to kiss her.”

Nick stared at her. There was a glint in his eyes she'd never seen before, one that made her stomach feel shaky, although she didn't know why exactly.

She turned her head to gaze around the boat. When Nick had mentioned sailing, she had envisioned a smaller vessel. Apparently, he didn't do small, because the boat was at least one hundred feet in length and so luxurious it deserved the description “yacht.” In addition to the open deck, it had a saloon, a covered dining area, and a private sleeping compartment.

For a moment, Teagan let her imagination run wild. If she and Nick were lovers, they would have devoured Letty's
delicious food and then retreated to the bedroom to devour each other.

They would have popped open the champagne Letty had included, and Teagan would have poured it on Nick's chest, letting it pool in his navel. She would have sipped the liquid from his well-defined pecs and sucked the remaining droplets from his flat brown nipples before licking her way down his chest to nibble his hard abs . . .

“More wine, miss?”

She looked up, her fantasy dissolving as the steward came into focus.
Boo. I hadn't reached the best part yet.

“Yes, thank you.”

She and Nick sat in the deck's open dining area, which was shaded by the yacht's second level. The bench seats were designed in an L-shape, and a table was bolted to the floor in front of them. He had claimed the short side of the L while she sat on the other. They were close enough that their legs and feet touched under the table.

She could barely withstand the temptation to drop her hand under the table and place it on his upper thigh. If they had been lovers, she would have bypassed his leg and gone right for his crotch, maybe even sliding down his zipper and easing her hand inside to stroke his penis.

The thought made her antsy, and she accidentally bumped his knee for the tenth time. When she shifted to give him more room, she knocked over his wineglass. He wasn't able to slide from the banquet seat fast enough to avoid it, and the golden liquid splashed into his lap.

With a gasp, she grabbed her napkin. “I'm sorry!” she exclaimed, dabbing wine from his crotch. His flat-front khaki pants were soaked, like he hadn't made it to the restroom in time.

“I'm so clumsy,” she babbled as she continued to rub vigorously at the wet spot. “I have been my whole life. You've probably noticed. I think Quinn and Cal got all the hand-eye coordination.”

His hand shot out and gripped her wrist. She looked up into his green eyes, which seemed to glow against his bronzed skin. Very slowly, very deliberately, he removed her hand from
his lap and placed it on the table. Holding his napkin against his crotch, he scooted out from behind the table and stood up.

“Maybe there's a hair dryer around here, and you can use it to dry your pants . . .”

He stalked into the saloon, presumably to track down the steward, and she collapsed against the cushions, covering her face with her hands.

Why did she always humiliate herself around Nick Priest? Was it some kind of cosmic law that she had to look and act like an idiot in front of him?

Wasn't this morning's accidental kiss enough embarrassment for one day? She cringed at the memory of how stupid she'd acted in the SUV. Their lips had barely touched, and she had totally overreacted. She'd been so worried that Nick would think she had done it on purpose, that he would somehow figure out that friendship was only a small part of what she felt for him.

She
never
wanted him to know. He'd feel sorry for her, maybe even pat her on the head like a lovesick puppy, and never want to hang out with her again.

Gah!
She had regressed into a teenage girl.

Teagan grabbed her wineglass and took a huge gulp before tilting her head back and draining it. Then she rose, put on her sunglasses and floppy hat, and headed toward the bow of the boat.

Leaning against the rail, she tried to lose herself in the beauty of the open water. It was a lovely day for a sail. The sky was clear, and it had warmed up enough for her to remove her lightweight jacket.