by Lauren Layne
“Brothers? Sisters?”
“Two of each.”
“You close?”
He lifted a shoulder. “Yeah. Sure. No feuds, minimal drama.” He grabbed a spoon, tasted the sauce, then added more salt.
“Do they live around here?”
He looked up. “What’s with the questions lately? You’ve been…nice all week. Highly suspicious, Carr.”
She simply waited.
“I grew up in Bend, Oregon. Parents are still there, as are the brothers and one of my sisters. My baby sister married a guy from the Bay Area; they settled in San Jose,” he said, setting the spoon on a plate by the stove. “Wine?”
Taylor nodded, watching as he opened a bottle of red and poured two glasses.
“We should get you an apron.”
“We should not get me an apron,” he said, handing her a glass.
He started to take a sip, but Taylor lifted her glass in a toast.
He shrugged and clinked his glass with hers. “What’s this for?”
“To the best week ever.”
“Yeah, I noticed you’ve been unusually sunshiny lately,” he observed.
“Hey, where’d you disappear to?” she asked, ignoring his implied question about her good mood. “I haven’t seen you in the office since that morning last week.”
“I don’t work there full-time, remember? I came in for a meeting with Cassidy, talked Super Bowl predictions with Penelope and Cole, then went to a coffee shop to write. Been busy since.”
“Oh.” She took a sip of wine.
“Taylor.”
“What?”
“Did you miss the part where I said I had two sisters? I think I know an oh when I hear one.”
“It’s nothing.”
He gave the pot another stir, then set the spoon aside once more, coming around from behind the counter, leaning a hip against the granite, and giving her an impatient look. “Spit it out, Carr.”
“Fine,” she said primly. “I thought maybe you disappeared that day because I walked off to that meeting with Bradley.”
Nick lifted his red wine to his lips. “Why would I care about that?”
“Because you hate him?”
“I don’t hate anybody. I just think he’s a douchebag. But he’s always been a douchebag. Doesn’t mean I’m going to go dashing out of the office like a princess every time we cross paths.”
“Our meeting was work related. Mostly,” Taylor said, ignoring his evasions.
“And again, I care because…?”
She bit her lip and stood, taking a step closer.
“You’ve said before that I should get over him.”
“I have.” He took another sip of wine, brown eyes revealing nothing.
She frowned a little, because he was being either dense or difficult.
“Well, I am. Over him,” Taylor said, taking a tiny step closer.
She let her eyes drift over his broad shoulders and tapered waist. Then lower.
It was deliberate. An invitation.
But when her eyes retraced their steps back up to his face, her ego experienced an uncomfortable little slap.
He was laughing at her.
Not guffawing, but there was no mistaking the grin or the knowing look in his eyes.
“That’s how you thought this was going to work?” he asked. “You tell me you you’re done with your ex, and I fall all over myself at the chance to get in your pants?”
“But—”
Nick set his glass aside, then stepped closer to her. “Here’s the thing, Carr. You’re too damn used to getting what you want when you want it. You think that because you’re smart and gorgeous, you’re irresistible.”
Stung, she started to take a step back, but he reached out and grabbed her chin firmly between his thumb and forefinger. “Hold on, not done. You think I want you, and you’re damn right. I want you badly.”
Her body filled with heat, but his next words cooled her slightly.
“But not like this,” he said gruffly. “Remember what I told you that night at the bar? You always have a plan. An agenda. Right now your agenda is me, and that’s not how I do things.”
Taylor swallowed. His eyes were hot, and she was dangerously close to begging him to show her how he did do things.
How he’d do her.
“So then…what? We just ignore this?” Taylor managed to ask, gesturing between them.
His thumb brushed along her jaw thoughtfully. “When you come to my bed, I want it to be because it’s me. Not because I’m not Callaway.”
“I told you, I’m over—”
“Over him. Yeah, I heard you. Prove it.”
“How?”
He pressed his thumb over her lips, just once, then let his arm drop. “One month. If in one month you still want me to fuck you, I’ll do it any way you want.”
Taylor’s mouth was dry. “A month. What do we do until then?”
He smiled, putting his hands on her hips to nudge her backward before patting her ass playfully. “Let’s take it one step at a time. For now, how about some dinner?”
Her mouth dropped open as he moved back behind the stove, looking completely unperturbed by their discussion. Meanwhile, every part of her was tingling. Yearning.
He dunked a spoon into the sauce and held it out for her to taste.
“I really do hate you,” she muttered, leaning forward to sip the delicious sauce directly from the spoon.
Nick only grinned.
Chapter 16
Taylor could occasionally be a noisy roommate, so Nick had taken to wearing noise-cancelling headphones when he was writing at home.
As a result, he didn’t hear when she got home from whatever she’d been doing with her weekend.
He couldn’t hear her knock either, which she’d figured out, and in the week and a half since he’d issued his proclamation that they keep their hands off each other, she’d taken to entering his room without knocking, oftentimes plopping on his bed and fiddling on her phone until he finished whatever scene he was working on and turned to see what she wanted.
Tonight, however, she wasn’t so patient, and after two minutes of trying to ignore her pacing, he peeled his headphones off with a sigh. “What the hell is up your ass, Carr?”
She clapped her hands, delighted to be paid attention to. “I need help. Please. Whenever you get to a good pausing point.”
He rolled his eyes. “Don’t even pretend to be patient and agreeable. Did you mangle a wine cork again?”
“Nope.” She grabbed his wrist and dragged him into the living room.
He went, only because he had writer’s block and wasn’t getting anything good on the page anyway.
She dropped his hand the second they got into the living room, and Nick felt the loss of contact immediately.
Every time she touched him, no matter how casually, he came damn close to forgetting all about his idiotic one-month proclamation and taking her against the wall or on the couch. Or the counter. Or the floor. He didn’t care. It had been only a few days, and already he was dying.
Also he was wondering if she was dying, because the woman hadn’t made a single sexual reference since his proclamation, and he was seriously starting to wonder if he’d mishandled the entire situation.
Perhaps he should have taken what she offered when she’d offered it.
Taylor bent over to rummage in a shopping bag, and he stifled a groan at the sight of her ass in denim.
Then she turned around, and his attention shifted to the box in her hand.
“Nintendo,” he said.
She nodded excitedly.
“Are we hosting a ten-year-old boy’s birthday party?”
She thrust the box at his chest, then returned to her bag, pulling out no fewer than five games.
“Can you set it up for me?”
“You’re serious?”
“Well, I’ve been thinking,” she said, biting her lip. “You said that my life was too planned
and that I always had an agenda, and I was thinking that was sort of true. I don’t really know how to have fun just for fun’s sake.”
“And you think video games are the way to go. Did you get a Nerf gun too?”
She glanced down at her shoes, and he almost felt bad for teasing her. “I’ve never played.” Taylor looked up again. “Isn’t that sad? Karen thought video games and television rotted your brain. And I was an awkward kid, didn’t get invited to a lot of parties.”
He groaned and took the Nintendo toward the TV. “You’re killing me, Carr.”
She grinned back. “I knew if I made you feel sorry for me, you’d help me.”
Her voice was teasing, but they both knew there was a sad truth in what she’d said. Once again he found himself cursing her aunt. His own parents had been strict about screen time, had forced him to eat the occasional vegetable, all that shit, but they’d also understood that kids needed to have fun. To play fucking Mario Kart every now and again.
He connected the appropriate cords and adjusted the settings on the TV before turning his attention toward the games she’d set on the coffee table. “What are we starting with?”
The uncertainty on her face was heartbreaking.
“You can’t make a mistake, Taylor. Just pick one.”
She bit her lip, and he sighed. Relenting, he picked up Mario Kart. “It’s a classic.”
“Oh! That one. The nerdy guy at Best Buy insisted I needed this if I was going to play with more than one person….”
She leapt off the couch toward the shopping bag, which was apparently a never-ending source of video game nirvana.
Taylor held up a plastic steering wheel and another controller. “Right? Won’t this be fun?”
He shook his head in exasperation, then beckoned her to bring them to him. “Do I even want to know how much you spent on all this?”
“Less than I spent on these boots,” she said, lifting her foot.
Nick pointed at the couch. “Sit.”
She did as he said, all but bouncing as he loaded the game. Nick handed her the main controller, which she took tentatively. Then she looked up at him and patted the seat beside her hopefully.
Nick sighed. “If we’re doing this, we’re going to need drinks.”
Ten minutes later—no bartender worth his salt would rush a drink—he sat beside her on the couch and handed her an old-fashioned garnished with cherries he’d soaked in brandy himself.
“You know I’m going to kick your ass, right?” he said, picking up the second controller.
In response, she leaned over and kissed his cheek.
Nick gave her a startled look, and then was even more surprised to see Taylor Carr blushing—not an everyday occurrence.
Maybe they could survive the next two and a half weeks just being platonic after all.
“So,” she said, turning her attention to the television before she snuggled closer, her hip pressing enticingly against his.
He thought it was an accident, but then he caught the flush of her cheek. The knowing smirk on her lips.
Nope. He wasn’t the only one still thinking about what it would be like when they got naked.
He grinned and proceeded to teach Taylor Carr everything he knew about Mario Kart.
Biding his time until he taught her everything he knew about other things.
Chapter 17
“Wait, wait—wait for me!” Brit and Taylor looked up to see Daisy half running toward their table, the movement surprisingly agile given her high heels.
“Whew,” Daisy said, dropping into the chair beside Brit, her blond hair disheveled. “I’m so sorry I’m late, but tell me I didn’t miss anything good.”
Brit gestured toward Taylor. “Not to worry. Our girl here’s spent the better part of the last fifteen minutes debating between spicy tuna and spicy salmon.”
Daisy wrinkled her nose and looked at Taylor. “Who cares about the sushi order? We want the good stuff.”
Taylor glanced up over the top of her menu. “I’m starting with miso soup.”
Daisy reached out and shoved Taylor’s menu to the table. “You and Nick. Details. Now.”
Taylor sighed and took a sip of her water. “Is this the only reason you girls took me to lunch today?”
“No,” Daisy said, at the exact same time Brit said, “Yes.”
“What?” Brit said with a guiltless shrug in response to Daisy’s glare. “I haven’t gotten any in a long time—I need to live vicariously.”
“Well, then, you’ll have to ask Daiz here, because I’m not getting any either.”
“So you keep saying,” Brit said. “But you forget that I have to share an office space with you two and your pheromones. The sexual tension’s excruciating.”
Daisy nodded. “Lincoln said that Nick eye-humps you all day long whenever he’s in the office.”
“Really?” Taylor asked, biting her lip.
“Aha!” Brit pointed her finger. “So you’re not immune.”
“No, I’m not immune,” Taylor said, exasperated. “But it’s like I told you guys last week—he’s not interested.”
“Bullshit,” Brit said.
“Okay, fine, he’s not interested enough. He basically told me to check back in a month if I still wanted some.”
“How long’s it been?” Daisy asked.
“Two weeks.”
“And do you? Still want some?”
Taylor sipped her water again. “It’ll pass.”
They both gave her a skeptical look, and Taylor didn’t blame them.
The truth? Not only did she spend an unhealthy amount of time fantasizing about Nick these days, but there was an undercurrent of something even more dangerous.
She liked him.
Somehow the guy who’d gone from being the one person she couldn’t stand had become the one she most looked forward to seeing each day. He was funny, and gruffly sweet, and—perhaps most appealing of all—seemed to have very little tolerance for Taylor’s bullshit, which she found surprisingly refreshing.
And all that made the temporary sex ban not just inconvenient but scary. Taylor was terrified that when the moment came, it would be too important, and not at all the casual roll in the hay they’d been moving toward ever since he’d smacked her ass on move-in day.
Daisy gave her a sympathetic look. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Taylor almost said yes—almost unloaded all of this on her friends, hoping they’d explain to her why the situation was as dangerous as it felt.
Instead she shook her head. “You know what I’m thinking? I’m thinking that we’re three fabulous career women at the top of their game who can surely find something to discuss besides men.”
Daisy winced. “I’m an awful friend. I haven’t even asked about the new job! How’s it going?”
“Honestly? Pretty amazing,” Taylor said with a grin. “I mean, I know it’s been all of a day and a half, but it feels right.”
It had taken HR a while to work out all of the transitional paperwork, but as of yesterday, Taylor was officially a senior digital marketing manager on Hunter Cross’s team.
The whole thing might have started out of her need to get away from Bradley, but the more time she’d spent with Hunter’s team during the transition process, the more she’d realized just how right the move was.
It was a fresh challenge, and one that excited her. It didn’t hurt that she and Hunter got along fabulously. She’d known he was friendly, with a great sense of humor, but the man was also seriously smart.
“No wonder you adore him,” Taylor said to Brit as she brought her friends up to speed on all this.
Brit rolled her eyes as she always did. “I don’t adore him. We just…get along.”
“No, I get along with Hunter. You guys click.”
“Platonically,” Brit argued.
“Fine,” Taylor said with a mock sigh. “It’s just that he’s too good for you to let some lesser woman snatch him up.”
“He’s not even seeing anyone right now. Is he?” Brit asked, her head whipping up from her menu.
Out of the corner of her eye, Taylor saw Daisy hide a smile. Taylor wisely suppressed her own grin. Platonic, my ass.
Still, she let Brit change the subject to some drama she was having with her hideous stepmother. They paused long enough to order an assortment of sushi rolls before attention turned to Daisy, who filled them in on the wedding she was currently planning for a bridezilla who was insisting Daisy find a way to allow her precious cat to be the flower “girl.”
Now that they were all caught up on the essentials of each other’s lives, a slight silence came over the group as they all tried very hard not to talk about the one topic still on everybody’s mind.
Taylor relented with a sigh. “Fine. Let me have it.”
“Okay. I think you should seduce him,” Brit said, rubbing her hands together and leaning forward excitedly.
“Seduce him? Like what—trench coat, no clothes underneath?”
“I’ve always wanted to do that,” Daisy said.
“You should!” Brit said. “It’s very freeing. I mean, assuming of course that it’s not cold and windy outside and you don’t get drafts up your hoo-hah.”
The server chose that moment to bring them their lunch, and the way his hand faltered as he set a plate on the table said he’d clearly heard.
Brit beamed up at him. “Thank you. The tuna roll looks delicious.”
“Oh my God,” Daisy said with a laugh after the waiter had hurried away. “He’s going to think you were making some sort of reference to your tuna roll.”
“And that I want to use his chopstick,” Taylor said as she clicked her chopsticks together and gave a wicked grin.
Daisy shook her head as she poured soy sauce into her dish. “If we’re going to have this conversation, I want to get back to how Nick’s chopstick is going to find its way to Taylor’s tuna roll.”
“Nope,” Taylor said, popping a piece of salmon in her mouth. “No way. We’re dropping this whole disgusting metaphor immediately, never to be referenced again for fear of ruining my love of sushi. Everyone agreed?”
“Agreed,” the other two echoed.
“But for real, what do you think about the trench coat plan?” Brit asked. “As far as seduction goes, it’s pretty foolproof.”
