Coming Apart at the Seams Page 5

  An image of Nick Priest popped into her head, and she laughed mirthlessly. She had no doubt he had plenty of experience. She’d seen pictures of him surrounded by beautiful women who looked like sex on stilettos, and if he was anything like her brothers, he had no trouble finding willing bed partners.

  Nick was probably a horrible lover, though. Since he was so good-looking, he probably didn’t even try to please his partner. Most likely, he just lounged on the bed in all his muscular, bronzed glory and let someone else do all the work.

  She slammed the door of the dryer shut with more force than necessary, annoyed at the direction of her thoughts. It wasn’t as if she were ever going to get the chance to find out if Nick was a pathetic lover or a four-orgasms-in-one-night kind of guy.

  She scowled. She hadn’t heard from him in over a week, not since he’d rebuffed her offer to hang out. She knew it was hard to adjust to a new place, and she’d been trying to be nice when she had issued the invitation.

  He’d stared at her for a long time before looking away and muttering “no.” Actually, she was pretty sure he had said “hell no,” but she couldn’t figure out why he’d been so rude.

  Nick had never once been cruel to her in all the years she had known him. He’d always had a smile for her, even when her brothers had told her to stop bugging them.

  She had managed to hide how much he’d hurt her feelings, and he had left her condo after a few more minutes of one-sided conversation. She didn’t expect to see him for another couple of years.

  Hefting the laundry basket in both hands, she made her way through the kitchen. As she turned toward her bedroom, she heard a knock on her door.

  She propped the basket overflowing with clean clothes on her hip to free her hand. Bebe had mentioned she might come by for dinner and a movie, so Teagan opened the door without checking the peephole.

  “Hey, you’re here early . . .”

  Her visitor was not Bebe. It was Nick.

  Surprise made her silent, and he moved his hand over her head and pushed open the door. As he walked into her condo, she stumbled backward out of his way, bobbling the laundry basket.

  She watched in dismay as a pair of plain white cotton underwear floated from the top of the laundry pile to land on his foot. He followed her gaze, and before she could drop the basket and scoop them from the floor, he bent down to pick them up.

  She groaned under her breath. Why, oh why, couldn’t they have been one of her pretty pairs instead of the old granny panties she favored when she felt especially fat or had her period?

  Before she could jerk them out of his hand, he held them up and waved them as if he were surrendering a battle. He smiled, the skin around his eyes crinkling.

  “Sexy,” he said with a wicked glint in his green gaze.

  She growled. “Shut up, Nick Priest. You jerk!”

  He burst out laughing when she grabbed them from his big hand. She tucked the panties into the basket and held it in front of her, wishing it would make her invisible.

  “Why are you here?” she asked rudely.

  “Red Sox.”

  She cocked her head. “You want to go to the game?”

  He nodded, taking two tickets out of his back pocket. The motion pulled his T-shirt tight across his chest, and she couldn’t help but stare as his pectoral muscles flexed.

  She considered his invitation. He must be really desperate for company if he was asking her to go to a baseball game with him. She thought about declining his offer as rudely as he’d declined hers. But she wasn’t sure Bebe was going to come by, and she didn’t want to spend Saturday night alone.

  And she really loved baseball. Plus, the Red Sox were playing well after an early-season slump. It might be a really good game.

  “I’ll go on one condition . . .”

  He raised his eyebrows, a silent question.

  “You’re buying the beer and hotdogs.”

  He smiled slowly. “Deal.”

  * * *

  Nick wandered around Teagan’s condo while he waited for her to change. Photos filled her big bookcase, and he spied one that looked familiar. He picked it up to give it a closer study and realized he’d snapped it the day he and Quinn had graduated from USC.

  Quinn was in the middle, and his parents, James and Kate, flanked him. Cal stood next to their mother, and Teagan was hugged up against her dad.

  Everyone had huge smiles on their faces, but Teagan’s smile was the brightest. When this picture had been taken, she’d just finished her freshman year at Stanford.

  Her adolescent awkwardness had disappeared, leaving a young woman with bright blue eyes and wavy dark hair that shined almost blue-black in the sunlight. Her roundness had transformed into an hourglass shape, and except for her height, or lack thereof, this was the girl he had expected to meet when he’d heard Quinn and Cal had a sister.

  No doubt about it, the O’Briens were extraordinarily good-looking. But what really made them extraordinary was the love they had for one another.

  Nick had never known another family that loved like the O’Briens. From what he could tell, James and Kate had a strong, loving marriage. They adored their kids, a sentiment their kids returned. Nick had been lucky they’d been willing to welcome him into their circle and eventually make him an honorary member of their family.

  In a lot of ways, the O’Briens were more his family than the Priests. Of course, Nick only had his father, since his mother had died when he was a toddler.

  Nick hadn’t seen his father in more than a year. Simon never suggested that they get together, and Nick didn’t, either.

  They weren’t estranged; they were just strangers, which was even sadder because that meant there were no feelings there at all. Nick couldn’t claim the fault was entirely his father’s. When he had stopped trying to prove to Simon that his speech disorder didn’t impact his ability to learn, only his ability to communicate, their relationship had died a slow death.

  He heard Teagan’s footsteps and returned the picture to the bookcase, taking care not to dislodge any of the other framed shots. She came to a stop slightly behind him, and the sweet scent of strawberries drifted to him. The smell reminded him of her lips, which reminded him of the dream he’d had about her a few nights ago.

  Shit.

  After he’d left Teagan’s condo last week, he had decided he wouldn’t contact her again—no texts and no visits. But just a few days later, here he was, in the same place, thinking the same thoughts. And now he had to spend hours with her, smelling strawberries and thinking about her lips.

  I’m an idiot.

  And his mouth had nothing to do with it. It was his dick.

  Teagan moved closer to see what had caught his attention. She bumped him with her hip.

  “That was a good day. Do you remember it?”

  “Yeah.”

  James and Kate had thrown a graduation party for Quinn at a new restaurant in downtown Los Angeles, just a few miles from the USC campus. While everyone else had been enjoying good food and good friends, he’d been enjoying a good fuck with one of the waitresses in the alley. He was pretty sure no one had missed him while he’d been gone. He had been quick, but they’d both gotten off, if his memory served.

  “I remember you disappeared for twenty minutes or so,” she said dryly. “About the same time one of the waitresses went missing.”

  Huh. Someone had noticed.

  Shoving his hands in his pockets, he turned to face her. She wore a red T-shirt with “Red Sox Baseball” written across the chest, and even though it wasn’t tight, his eyes were drawn to her breasts. They were larger than average, and he wondered if her nipples were dark like cherries.

  Damn! I have to stop thinking about her breasts. And her nipples.

  She’d paired the T-shirt with dark-washed jeans and red canvas sneakers, and he wond
ered if she had chosen lacy panties like she’d had on the last time he visited or the plain ones he’d touched earlier. Then he wondered if she had a bush or if she was bare.

  Damn! I have to stop thinking about her panties. And what those panties cover.

  She’d pulled her hair into a ponytail, and the end of it hung out the back of the Red Sox baseball cap she wore. He was pretty sure she had put on some makeup, too, since her eyelashes looked even longer, and her skin seemed to shimmer.

  She smiled, and he noticed her lips were shiny with gloss. Then he thought about what his cock would look like sliding in and out of her mouth.

  Damn! I have to stop . . .

  “Ready?” she asked.

  He nodded, and she turned to walk to the door. Naturally, his gaze fell to her ass, and he gasped in disbelief. Her jeans were not Rileys. They were the competition. He was appalled.

  “No Rileys?”

  Stopping midstride, she looked over her shoulder at him, her gaze both incredulous and accusing. “Were you checking out my butt?”

  “Habit,” he admitted sheepishly.

  “You’re not allowed to do that.” She frowned. “We’re friends.”

  “Friend, yes. Dead, no.”

  Chapter 6

  The line to the newest romantic comedy was long and composed entirely of women. Apparently, there were a lot of single gals in Cambridge looking for something to do on a Saturday night.

  “Ugh, do we have to wait?” Bebe groaned.

  “Patience is a virtue,” Teagan replied.

  Bebe scowled. “I have enough virtue, as you well know,” she replied bitchily, hefting her hot pink bag over her shoulder.

  Teagan snickered at the other woman’s comment. At twenty-five, Bebe was still a virgin, partly by choice, partly because of a lack of opportunity, at least according to her.

  Bebe’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not exactly experienced.”

  Teagan shrugged, unable to dispute Bebe’s assessment. She was a cliché: the quintessential good girl.

  Her thoughts, meanwhile, were a heck of a lot less pure than her body. In her imagination, she got down and dirty with Nick Priest almost every night. Her vibrator had received quite a workout over the past several weeks.

  She always felt a little guilty whenever she fantasized about Nick. The poor guy had no idea thoughts of his six-pack abs and tight backside got her off night after night. He would probably be horrified she moaned his name when she came.

  Even though they’d spent so much time with each other over the past seven weeks, he still treated her the same way he always had: she was a good buddy, one of the guys, his best friend’s little sister.

  If they were dating, they probably would have passed the point where they were exclusive and having sex. She saw him two to three times a week. He’d stop by and they’d go out to dinner or he’d show up at her door with takeout. They’d spend the rest of the evening talking, maybe watch a little TV, and then he’d leave.

  They usually spent Saturdays together, too. Nick would show up midmorning, and they would spend the rest of the day doing something fun or touristy or both.

  They’d attended two Red Sox games, gone on a walking tour of Boston’s historic neighborhoods, visited Paul Revere’s house, and explored the New England Aquarium. In addition, they’d celebrated the Fourth of July on the banks of the Charles River, drinking beer and enjoying the Boston Pops Fireworks Spectacular.

  He never called or texted, and they never made plans in advance. He just showed up.

  Teagan was ashamed to admit she looked forward to his visits so much she’d started to decline other invitations because she didn’t want to miss him, if and when he knocked on her door.

  Today she’d waited until early evening for him to show, and when he hadn’t, she’d felt a bewildering mix of emotions. Mostly, she’d been disgusted by herself for being too available. She had turned into the pathetic girl who sat by the phone, only she sat near the front door.

  She’d spent more time with Nick over the past several weeks than she and Jason had spent together during the final year of their relationship. He’d always found a reason not to see her. She shook off memories of her ex-boyfriend. She didn’t want to ruin her night out with Bebe.

  “We should have bought tickets for the movie in advance, because it will probably be sold out by the time we get to the front of the line,” Teagan noted.

  Bebe’s shrug clearly conveyed her lack of concern. “I’d rather get some ice cream from Tosci’s.”

  “Why didn’t you say so? I’d choose ice cream over a movie any day.”

  Tosci’s, or Toscanini’s officially, had the best ice cream in the United States, maybe the whole world, and Teagan wasn’t the only one who thought so. She made a mental note to take Nick there soon.

  Bebe and Teagan abandoned the line at the movie theater and headed off toward Central Square, where Tosci’s was located. As they strolled along the busy sidewalk, Bebe returned to their previous conversation.

  “Speaking of sexual experience, have you heard from Jason in a while?”

  “I got an email from him a few days ago.”

  When Jason had broken up with her, she’d accepted his decision gracefully. She hadn’t cried or begged, and she hadn’t tried to change his mind. No guy was worth humbling herself like that, especially if he didn’t want her in the first place.

  “Do you think he wants to start something with you again?”

  “No, I don’t think so. His emails are friendly, but we don’t talk about anything important when he calls. I think he just wants to stay in touch.”

  “Would you get back together with him if he wanted to?”

  She considered Bebe’s question. At one time, she’d thought she and Jason would get married and have a family.

  Even though they hadn’t enjoyed the kind of passionate relationship her parents had, she had been content with him. She had never expected to experience an all-consuming kind of love like her parents had found. It was rare.

  “I’m not sure how I would react if Jason told me that he wanted to get back together. I’m not in love with him anymore, but we do have history together.”

  “You also have history with Nick Priest,” Bebe said archly.

  Teagan sighed in exasperation. “Bindu Banerjee, I’ve already told you that Nick and I are just friends.”

  “That’s what you say, but you sure do spend a lot of time with him. Don’t you wonder why he seems to prefer your company over anyone else’s?”

  “Not really. He doesn’t know anyone else in Boston.”

  Bebe snorted. “He’s hotter than hot. He’s a conflagration, and I’m sure he could find company if he wanted to.”

  “Conflagration? Do you have to show off your Ivy League vocabulary all the time?”

  Bebe ignored her teasing. “Maybe he’s secretly in love with you and afraid to say anything.”

  Teagan laughed. “Oh, Bebe, you are so wrong.”

  She couldn’t imagine Nick being in love with anyone. In all the time she’d known him, he’d never had a steady girlfriend or anything remotely recognizable as a relationship.

  She’d never even seen him with the same woman twice. More than likely, he had a stable of women he called whenever he wanted sex, and they dropped everything when he got in touch, eager to get their hands on his hot body.

  “If you met him, if you saw us together, you’d know how wrong you are,” Teagan continued. “He’s bored, and I’m convenient. I’m his platonic booty call.”

  Bebe choked. “There is no such thing! In fact, that’s an oxymoron.”

  “You know what I mean,” she replied, waving her hand.

  “So you’re telling me you feel nothing for him but friendship?”

  “That’s right. Nothing but friendship.”

 
; And lust. I can’t forget that.

  * * *

  Judging by the frown on Teagan’s face, ten o’clock on a Sunday morning was too early for Nick to show up at her condo. It had taken several minutes of intermittent knocking for her to come to the door, but finally she’d answered.

  As he took in her wild hair and slumberous eyes, he was blindsided by the thought she might have company. A sour taste flooded his mouth, and he swallowed to get rid of it. He must be hungry.

  He had wanted to visit the John F. Kennedy Presidential Library and Museum today, and he’d thought Teagan might be interested in going with him. But maybe she was busy.

  Maybe someone had kept her up late last night, kissing her pink mouth and caressing her curvy body. He scowled, uncertain if he was annoyed because he was thinking about her naked again or because he was thinking about her naked with someone else.

  She stared at him for a moment before opening the door wider and gesturing for him to come in. He breathed a sigh of relief. She was alone.

  “Do you want some coffee?” she asked, her voice husky from sleep. “I definitely need some.”

  She turned toward the kitchen, and he trailed after her. She wore a fuzzy robe that was the exact color of the pistachio mousse Letty had made last week, and he wondered if it would feel as soft as it looked.

  Settling himself on one of the metal stools situated around the granite bar, he hooked his feet in the rungs and focused his gaze on Teagan. As she stretched up to reach into the cabinet, the tie of her robe loosened.

  He sucked in a breath. Was she naked under that robe?

  God, I hope so.

  What? No, you don’t!

  Her robe fell open as she measured coffee into the coffeemaker, and he exhaled, in relief, not disappointment, damn it, that she wore something underneath it. But then she turned to fill the coffeepot with water, and he got a good look at her pajamas. A scrap of black material barely covered her tits, and a tiny pair of matching shorts barely hid her crotch.

  The color made her skin look like fresh powder at his favorite ski resort, and he could see the hard points of her nipples against her top and the enticing indention of her belly button above the waistband of her bottoms.