by Jenna Sutton
He jerked his head toward her, a look of astonishment on his face. She didn’t know why he was so surprised, though.
“Change is hard for everyone,” she pointed out. “I definitely don’t handle it well. I had a really hard time adjusting to Boston. Being so far away from home really sucked. And I don’t know what I was thinking, getting an MBA and a law degree at the same time. If not for Bebe, I probably would have flunked out.”
“No,” he said doubtfully.
“Yes,” she countered. “Undergrad was way too easy, and I wasn’t prepared for Harvard. The pressure. The expectations.” She pushed a loose strand of hair from her face. “The Colonials wanted you because they need a star wide receiver to get to the Super Bowl, right?”
He nodded. “They’ve been losers in the playoffs.”
“Are you worried about not being able to perform?”
His lips quirked, drawing her attention to his mouth. After a moment, he let loose with a deep chuckle.
“No,” he answered with a smirk.
When she realized her question had an obvious sexual overtone, although unintentional, she blushed, and his chuckles turned into full-fledged laughter. Obviously, he enjoyed her embarrassment.
She leaned over and punched him in the upper arm. “Nick Priest, I am trying to have a serious conversation with you!”
He caught her hand with his, wrapping his other arm around her shoulders and pulling her close to his side. They sat there silently for several minutes with her hand nestled in his and his arm curved around her.
Teagan fought the urge to lean her head against his chest. She was very much afraid the crush she’d managed to avoid as a teenager had caught up with her. That knowledge compelled her to release his hand and shake off his arm.
She leaned down to grab her purse and heard a muffled noise from Nick’s vicinity. Glancing up, she found him staring at the water.
“Did you say something?”
“No,” he muttered without looking in her direction.
Pulling her purse onto her lap, she rummaged around in it until she found the bag containing her gift shop purchase, a metal moon keychain. She fished it from the bag and turned to him.
“I bought you something.”
He brought his attention to her, and she pressed the keychain into his palm. His long fingers curled around it, and he brought it close to his face to study it.
“It’s the moon—for those times when you want to be far away. Maybe it can be your good luck charm for training camp.”
Closing his hand over the moon keychain, he dropped it to his lap. “Thanks.”
A few more words slipped past her lips without thought. “I’m going to miss you while you’re gone.”
Silence hung between them as they gazed toward the water. Then he leaned his head against hers. “Ditto,” he said, his voice barely a whisper of sound.
Chapter 8
Nick circled the block near Teagan’s condo for the fourth time, trying to find a parking space big enough for his Escalade. Cambridge had to be the absolute worst place on the planet for parking, and he barely resisted the urge to bang his fist against the steering wheel.
He hadn’t seen Teagan in almost a month, and this was the first opportunity he’d had to visit her since he’d left for training camp. He’d gotten stuck in traffic, and now it was almost seven o’clock.
Like most NFL teams, the Colonials conducted their training camp away from their home base. He’d spent more than three weeks in Arizona with his new team along with a handful of days in San Diego for their preseason game.
Although he’d been exhausted from the stress of camp and the pressure of his first game as a Colonial, he’d had trouble falling asleep. After lying in bed for two hours without nodding off, he’d taken matters into his own hands. Literally.
He’d started off fantasizing about one of the blondes he had been fucking before he left. She was tall with a decent-sized rack and narrow hips. He couldn’t remember what color her eyes were, and he was a little hazy on her name, too.
Sometime between the first stroke and his climax, her hair had turned dark and shiny and her eyes had become smoky blue. And those weren’t the only changes, either. Her tits had grown larger, her hips had become fleshier, and she’d shrunk about five inches in height.
She had transformed into Teagan, and he’d come so violently he worried he had ruptured something. Afterward, he was horrified. He never, ever thought of Teagan when he masturbated.
But then he’d given himself a free pass. Training camp was so intense there was no time for any extracurricular activities, which meant Nick had gone without sex for thirty long days. Surely he could be forgiven for one lapse in judgment.
When he had woken up this morning, he’d felt happier than he had in weeks. He’d texted Monday—that wasn’t her name, that was just the day of the week when they had sex—and they’d met in a hotel room downtown where he’d done her against the wall, on the bed, and in the shower.
He would have preferred to spend that time with Teagan, maybe take her to lunch so they could catch up. But he didn’t know where she was interning because she’d never mentioned the name of the law firm.
Noticing a car pulling out just a few steps from Teagan’s building, he rushed to nab the spot. Since he’d moved to Boston, he had become a pro at parallel parking. Once he had eased his SUV into the space, he jumped out and headed toward the building. He ran his fingers over the moon keychain Teagan had given him before pocketing his keys.
Although he usually took the stairs to the sixth floor, he decided to use the elevator because it would get him to her sooner. In less than a minute, he knocked on her front door, running a hand over his hair while he waited for her to answer. It had grown out a bit from the buzz cut he’d had before he left for training camp, but it was still really short.
The door opened, and he smiled, expecting to see Teagan. Instead, a tiny Indian woman stood in the doorway.
“Hi, Nick,” she said softly.
She acted like they’d already met, but he’d never seen her before. Nonetheless, he knew exactly who she was because Teagan talked about her all time.
“Bebe,” he returned.
She looked over her shoulder before stepping out of the condo and pulling the door shut behind her. He moved back to give her some room, wondering what was going on.
“Before you come in, you need to know that something happened today,” she said, looking up at him with solemn eyes.
His heart rate picked up. Adrenaline surged through his body, making it hard for him to speak.
“T-t-t-tell me,” he finally squeezed out.
“Our boss cornered Teagan in the law library and assaulted her.”
He stared at Bebe, sure he had misunderstood what she’d just said. “Assaulted h-h-h-her?” he asked, his voice hoarse. “W-w-w-what do you m-m-mean?”
She cocked her head, and he knew she wondered why he sounded like an idiot. But he didn’t care. He just wanted answers.
“He didn’t rape her. He just kissed her and grabbed her . . .” She gestured toward her chest.
Nick’s panic morphed into rage, and his vision blurred in a haze of red. I’m going to kill the motherfucker who dared to lay hands on Teagan when she didn’t want them there. I’m going to use every bit of my strength to beat her boss to death, and when I’m finished, I’m going to piss on the corpse.
“Nick.” Bebe touched his arm to get his attention, and he flinched. “She’s fine. Earlier she was ranting about castrating JD and making sure he never bothered another woman again. She’s in the shower right now.” She eyed him thoughtfully. “I just thought you should know.”
He squeezed her shoulder, trying to show his thanks. She smiled.
“It’s nice to meet you finally,” she said. “But you’re not as good-looking as
I’d thought you’d be.”
Her comment shocked a croaky laugh out of him, and he knew she was trying to defuse his murderous rage. He tilted his head toward the door.
“Inside,” he demanded.
He needed to see Teagan. He needed to hear her, touch her, and make sure she really was okay.
Bebe opened the door, and he followed her inside to the living area. He was too upset to sit down, but she settled on the sofa and pulled her legs under her.
“Teagan tells me you guys have known each other for a long time.”
He nodded, his gaze fixed on the hallway. He took a step that direction, but Bebe stopped him by saying, “Give her a few minutes, okay?”
He turned toward her, exhaling roughly and running his hands over his face. They shook a little bit, and he silently recited the first few lines of the Gettysburg Address to calm down. It was an old trick that usually worked to relax him, but right now it had very little impact.
“You played really well yesterday.”
Dropping his hands, he stared at Bebe. Was she fucking kidding him? He couldn’t think about football right now.
“Nick?”
He heard Teagan’s voice from behind him, and he spun around, taking in her appearance in one quick glance. Her hair hung in wet tendrils around her face, and she wore a baggy Harvard sweatshirt over a pair of bright pink pajama pants.
They stared at each other for a heartbeat before she rushed toward him. He moved forward and caught her, pulling her tightly against him as she burst into tears.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bebe jump up from the sofa. He caught her gaze, giving her a look that said, I’ve got this. She nodded her understanding.
“I’m going to run to my place and grab some clothes and stuff so I can spend the night,” Bebe said as she left the room.
He rubbed Teagan’s back, trying to soothe her. She cried softly, little hiccupping sobs that had him clenching his fists against her back. He hated that she was hurting, and he hated feeling so damn powerless to help her. In that moment, he would have done anything to make her feel better.
Walking backward to the sofa, he brought her with him. He dropped down onto the cushions and grabbed her around the waist to pull her onto his lap, tucking her head against his shoulder and draping her legs sideways across his.
“Shh,” he crooned over and over while her sobs ripped out his guts.
They sat like that for a long time. Eventually, she stopped crying and swiped her eyes. The cuff of her sweatshirt fell back, revealing dark bruises around her wrist, and he tensed, instinctively knowing her asshole boss had put them there. He ran the tip of his finger over the bruises and the delicate bones of her wrist, and she sighed.
“I tried to avoid him,” she said, her voice wobbly. “I made sure not to come in early or stay late. I went out of my way not to talk to him directly or call any attention to myself. I even wore ugly clothes so he wouldn’t notice me.”
Rage bubbled inside him. She shouldn’t have had to do those things. She should have been able to go where she wanted, say what she wanted, and wear what she wanted without worrying about some fucker assaulting her.
Nick knew he wasn’t a nice guy. He was a selfish, self-absorbed bastard, and he cared more about himself than anyone else.
He screwed too many women, thinking of them as pussy rather than people. But he never fucked anyone who thought of him as anything more than a convenient lay, and he didn’t break their hearts or scar their souls.
He didn’t hurt women, physically or emotionally. He loathed men who did.
“It’s not your f-f-f-fault.”
“Bebe warned me.” She started to cry again. “She told me he was rapacious. That was her exact word. Rapacious.” She sobbed harder. “And he would have raped me, Nick.”
He pressed Teagan closer, nausea rising in the back of his throat at the thought of her being hurt like that. He swallowed hard, trying not to be sick.
“He would have raped me,” she repeated thickly before laughing, a sound edged with hysteria. “But I was wearing too many clothes. Bebe told me to wear pantsuits. That saved me. If I had been wearing a dress, he would have raped me.”
He squeezed his eyes shut, the word “rape” echoing in his head. He didn’t believe in God. He didn’t believe in anything, really. But just then, he sent up a silent prayer.
Thank You for keeping her safe.
* * *
Before she’d seen Nick standing in her living room, Teagan had thought she was fine. She’d pushed the incident with JD to the back of her mind, telling herself that nothing—nothing—had happened.
Yes, he’d pushed her against a bookcase. Yes, he’d forced her hands over her head, gripping her wrists until she cried out. Yes, he’d kissed her, forcing his tongue into her mouth. Yes, he’d squeezed her breasts roughly. Yes, he’d shoved his hand between her legs.
But he had stopped before he’d raped her. And that was the most important thing, at least in her mind.
She had no doubt JD wouldn’t have stopped if a third-year associate hadn’t come into the library. He’d heard footsteps and pushed her away from him as if she were the one who had attacked him.
Nick exhaled loudly, and she nuzzled closer to him. He was so warm, and she had been so cold when she’d arrived home. Even a scalding-hot shower hadn’t helped. But now she was pretty toasty.
She was slightly embarrassed she’d cried all over him, but she hadn’t been able to help herself. Something had broken open when she had seen him, and all she’d wanted was his arms around her.
She had missed him so much while he’d been away at training camp. She had missed seeing him when she came home from work, and she had missed playing tourist with him on the weekends.
Teagan couldn’t pretend any longer that all she felt for him was friendship. But she was smart enough to know friendship was all she was going to get from him, and that was better than nothing. It was more than most women received from him.
“You’re going to be okay,” he said quietly.
She nodded. The incident with JD had scared her, and she knew it wasn’t something she was going to forget easily, but she was going to be okay. Thanks to Nick, she already felt better.
She needed to figure out what to do about JD’s assault. She couldn’t let him do this to another intern, but it was her word against his. And there was no DNA evidence, thank God.
She decided to postpone that decision for a while so she could enjoy Nick’s embrace. It wasn’t likely that she would ever have the opportunity to be so close to him again.
She closed her eyes and let his warmth soak into her, loving the feel of his strong arms around her and his hard chest against her cheek. The last thought she had before sleep claimed her was a prayer.
Thank You for letting Nick be here to comfort me.
Chapter 9
“Can I have your autograph?”
Nick looked up from his salmon to see an attractive thirty-something woman standing next to the table with pen and paper in hand. Resting his fork on his plate, he took them from her and scrawled his name.
“What about your number?” she asked with a come-hither smile—the same smile he’d seen on thousands of faces over the years.
He printed his jersey number below his name and tried to give the paper and pen back to her. Her smile widened.
“What about your phone number?”
He laughed, shaking his head. Even after all these years, he was still surprised by how shameless female fans could be. Actually, male fans could be pretty shameless, too.
“No?” she asked, eyebrows arched. She held out another scrap of paper, this one with ink already on it. “Here’s mine,” she offered.
When he didn’t take it, she tucked it under his plate. “Just in case you want some company,” she said before grabb
ing the pen and paper with his autograph and sauntering off.
Nick picked up his fork, ready to get back to his meal. Letty’s food was better, but this salmon was still pretty good.
He looked up from his plate to find his agent staring at him from across the table, his brown eyes assessing. Elijah had scheduled the meeting weeks ago, and he’d suggested Nick meet him for dinner at his hotel.
Elijah liked to check in with him on a regular basis, and the two of them always had plenty to discuss. His agent handled almost every aspect of Nick’s professional life, including contracts, endorsement deals, and even media relations. He wasn’t sure how Elijah juggled it all, since he was always on the go and rarely in his office in Los Angeles.
“It looks like the women of Boston have welcomed you with open arms and legs,” Elijah noted, waggling his bushy gray eyebrows.
Nick grunted. Groupies were part of pro sports. It was one of the reasons why athletes had such a high divorce rate.
He’d heard his married teammates talk about how difficult it was to be faithful to one person when faced with the constant temptation of easy women. He had no idea if they were exaggerating or not. He had never committed to one woman for more than a few hours. He’d never wanted to, and he doubted he ever would.
Elijah leaned back in his chair, slouching slightly and resting his hands on his small paunch. Nick had hired the older man just days after he’d announced his plans to participate in the NFL draft when he had been a senior at USC, and except for the O’Briens, there was no one he trusted more.
“I got a call from People magazine a couple of days ago. They want to feature you in their ‘Sexiest Man Alive’ issue. You won’t be the Sexiest Man Alive, though, just one of them.”
Nick barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes. He’d rather be articulate than sexy, though he would settle for coherent.
“They want to do an interview,” Elijah continued.
Nick grimaced. He would rather have his fingernails ripped out with pliers than do a magazine interview—or any kind of interview, for that matter.
