Ben knocked on the closed en suite bathroom door. “Are you almost done?”
“Stop rushing me!” Nic called back.
Rushing her? She’d been up here at least an hour before him. In fact, when he’d gotten back to the room, he’d had to grab his stuff and get dressed in Davis’s room because she’d been in the bathroom. The only reason he knew she hadn’t been in there the entire time he’d been gone was the missing dress that had lain on the bed.
“You have ten minutes and then we’re leaving, with or without you!”
“Like I’d ever believe that, Van Mont!”
She knew him well.
Still— “You don't have to believe it, but you better listen,” he called back, before sliding open the patio door and stepping out onto the balcony.
“They never listen.”
Ben froze, recalling the words he’d thought he’d heard and the disturbing mixture of resignation, anger, and disappointment that had poured off Quentin Miller. He knew that pain, that sense that you were screaming for something as loud as you could and no one seemed to hear.
Let alone care.
And he hadn’t been any better. He’d leaped to conclusions about Quentin’s life, having the man broke and retired before he’d even played his first professional game.
Before he could talk himself out of it, he pulled out his phone and accessed the player’s files. Finding Quentin’s number, he placed the call.
“Quentin?”
“Yeah?”
There was music and the sound of people talking in the background. Shit!
“This is Ben Van Mont from Reed Financial Services.” He spoke loudly to be heard over the commotion. “Do you have a moment?”
“Make it fast. I’m having dinner with my family.”
Ben could hear the impatience in Quentin’s voice. He was grateful the man had even taken the call, considering the way their initial encounter had ended.
“When we met in my office you said, ‘They never listen.’ If you don’t mind me asking, who were you referring to?”
“People like you. The money people. Usually white.”
“And what don’t we listen to?”
Quentin sighed the sigh of someone exhausted by dealing with people who didn’t understand him. “To me. To why those names were on the forms. To why I need to take care of them.”
“All of them?” He didn’t bother hiding his skepticism.
“You and I may have gone to the same high school but we come from different worlds,” Quentin said. “I lived in a rough neighborhood only a few miles from your office, if you can believe it. Football was my way out of there, for me and my family. Some of the people on that list made sure I got to school safely. Some of them ran interference, kept the bad element off me. Some of them gave me a place to crash when things weren’t great at home. Yeah, it was my talent on the field, but I wouldn’t have made it without them.”
Ben admired the fortitude Quentin had to have possessed to triumph in the face of those odds. He understood why the player would want to share his success with those who helped him. But—
“I’ve seen these relationships. They never work out. People get resentful.”
“I don’t need a father figure. I had one. I just need a financial manager to take care of my paper and advise me when it comes to getting more. I’ll make the final decision on how to spend it.”
Ben nodded, though the other man couldn’t see him. “I understand. Thank you for taking the time to speak with me.”
They disconnected the call. Ben placed the phone in his pocket and headed back into the bedroom. He thought he’d made a decision about Quentin but now he was questioning himself. He really liked the player, but if Ben took him on as a client, he might be stretching his business beyond his solo practitioner capabilities. He’d had no interest in doing that before.
Had that changed?
“Who’s out there with you?” Nic asked through the door.
He frowned. “Nobody.”
“I thought I heard you talking to someone?”
Oh. “I made a phone call to a potential client.”
“Another app creator?”
“No. This one’s in sports. Quentin Jackson.”
She paused for a lengthy moment then asked, “Q-ball?”
He jerked his head back. “How do you know him? You hate football.”
“Yeah, but I watch ESPN and I know sports. He’s really good. He’d be a great catch for your firm.” She chuckled. “‘Catch’? See what I did there?”
His lips twitched. “It appears Tinsley isn’t the only one with bad jokes.”
He couldn’t hear her response, but he was certain it contained a curse word or four.
He gave in to the grin. “We would be fortunate to get Quentin but taking him on would increase my workload beyond what I can realistically manage on my own.”
“Then hire help.”
The same solution Ezra had given. Neither of them seemed to get it.
Ben exhaled and leaned against the wall. “I’ve always wanted Reed Financial Services to remain small.”
Her reply was immediate. “But you’re too good for that. Are you afraid of success?”
He set his jaw. “The firm is successful now. If I take on more clients and employees, running the business will become my life.”
“And then you won’t have time for the type of family you want.” Nic’s sigh was audible through the door. “Ben, you don’t know what the future holds. You have the chance to do more of what you love. Why limit yourself?”
“There’s nothing wrong with placing a higher value on the ‘life’ option in the work/life balance.”
“You know that’s a privilege not everyone can claim, right?”
“What is?”
“Turning down the opportunity to make more money so you can be available for this fictitious family you’re planning.” A clatter, the sound of an aerosol spray, and then, “There, I’m done.”
A moment later, the bathroom door opened and she emerged in a mouthwatering cloud of fragrance.
“Cuteness takes time,” she said, smoothing a hand down the pretty green dress she wore.
His heart skidded to a stop, then began to pound for all it was worth. She’d left her hair free, though the curls seemed more pronounced, more . . . defined. Her lashes looked fuller, her lips redder and poutier.
He couldn’t stop staring at her. His eyes finally left her face and dropped to her body. The top of the dress cupped her breasts, showcasing her pert cleavage, and molded to her torso. The flowy skirt swirled around her legs and the thigh-high slit teased him with the occasional tantalizing peek of skin.
And what the color did to her eyes . . .
He swallowed. “You look . . . incredible.”
“Thank you. I hope it was worth the wait,” she said with a soft—flirtatious?—smile.
“It was.”
“Good.” She walked over to her suitcase and pulled out a pair of strappy silver shoes. “I had fun this afternoon. Your friends are great.”
He watched her slide into her shoes and suddenly understood how foot fetishes could become a thing. Was there anything about this woman that didn’t turn him on? “That’s nice of you to say.”
“It’s true. They’re all outgoing and interesting, for the most part.”
Except for one. “I’m sorry about Tinsley.”
After she’d left them on the beach, he hadn’t seen Tinsley for the rest of the day. He still didn’t know if she was joining them for dinner.
Nic paused in the act of putting on silver hoop earrings. “Jesus Christ! I wish everyone would stop apologizing to me for her. She’s not your responsibility. She’s a grown woman.”
“She’s not acting like it.”
“Your other friends have been lovely. Especially since I’m sure my presence has thrown off the dynamic.”
“No it hasn’t.”
She gave him a knowing look. “One year, Lacey invited a woman she’d met dancing in a master class to join us.”
That was news to him. “You allow guests to come on your vacations?”
“Not anymore,” Nic said, her eyes wide. “It’s taken years to work out how we like to do things. A lot of trial and error. And the woman, as nice as she was, wouldn’t make an effort. She didn’t want to spend any time with us and kept sneaking off on her own when we weren’t looking. She even brought some rando dude back to the house where we were staying. By the end of the vacation, the rule was no more invitations.”
“Ouch.”
She winced. “I know. That sounds horrible. We’re not some cliquish group, I promise. We all have other friends—”
“Clearly,” he said.
She smiled. He loved her smile.
“—but our annual trip is our time. To catch up, reminisce, celebrate our accomplishments, mourn our failures. It’s like an annual rejuvenation. And it requires trust and privacy.”
He knew of her trips; she’d gone on one each of the three years she’d lived with him. But he’d thought of them as simple vacations. The way she spoke made them seem almost spiritual.
“I understand your friends’ concerns,” she said. “And they’ve been wonderful. As for your ex, I can handle her. That’s my job while I’m here, right?”
Right. As far as Nic was concerned, it was the main reason she was here.
So get your lust in check, Van Mont, and enjoy this time with your friends.
They ended up at a casual Italian restaurant in town. Tinsley hadn’t joined them, telling Bronwen she’d made other plans. She hadn’t been missed. They’d eaten, laughed, and shared a lot of memories. Recalling what Nic had mentioned about the extra guest on her vacay, he made sure to check in with her often. But she appeared to be enjoying herself, talking to Bronwen, occasionally joining in on their ribbing, but mostly, watching them—him—with an indulgent smile curving her lips. At one point during dinner, he’d reached for her hand. With their fingers entwined together, it had felt natural to raise them and kiss her knuckles.
Tinsley wasn’t present. There had been no need to pretend. But he’d done it for no other reason than he’d wanted to.
Nic had turned her bright vivid gaze on him and in that moment, everyone else faded away, leaving just the two of them.
You know my nipples are supersensitive. I can come just from you pulling & sucking on them.
Then that’s what I’ll do . . .
“Do you need us to leave?” Davis had asked, a smirk on his face.
Ben blinked as reality came crashing back.
“Don’t offer if you don’t mean it,” Nic said.
Everyone laughed, sweeping away that moment of tension. But when he’d shot a quick glance at Nic, it was to find her heated gaze on him. He waited for her to look away.
She didn’t. She’d held his gaze, then tilted her head to the side, as if issuing him a challenge.
What was going on here?
“This has been fun,” Palmer now said. “The place hasn’t changed one bit. I think that’s the same jukebox we used to play in high school.”
“Is it? I don’t think I noticed it when we came the last time,” Bronwen said, accepting a glass of wine from the server with a smile. “It may look like the same facade, but jukeboxes are digital now. And there are newer songs.”
An idea occurred to Ben and he stood. “Will you excuse me for a second?”
“Dude, see if they have Green Day,” Davis called out.
Ben waved him off and walked over to the machine. Bronwen was right. The outside was the same: rounded top, rectangular bottom, with plastic tubes that lit up in a rainbow of different colors. However, instead of the usual letter-number button combo, there was a large touch screen. He scrolled through the selections, stopping when a particular song caught his eye. Checking the queue, he saw his choice would come after the song currently playing.
“What’s coming?” Davis asked when he returned to the table. “Did they have ‘Holiday’? Or are you yearning for the nostalgia of the aughts? Some Evanescence, perhaps?”
“I wouldn’t do that,” Ben said. “We barely made it through Palmer’s Amy Lee fascination the first time around.”
“Can you blame me?” Palmer asked. “She was the perfect combination of beauty and toughness.”
“It’s clear you have a type,” Nic said.
They all looked at Bronwen before bursting out laughing. As their merriment died down, the familiar strains of the song he’d chosen filled the area.
“Wise men say, only fools rush in . . .”
He watched Nic, waiting for her to—
She gasped and glanced at him. “No fair, Van Mont!”
He stood and held his hand out. “Dance with me?”
She glanced around. “No one else is dancing.”
He didn’t care. He wanted to hold her, to be close to her. To confirm the signals she was tossing in his direction.
His skin burned to touch hers.
“Then we’ll be the first.”
Nic stared up at Ben, warmed by the heated longing radiating from his beautiful eyes. As Bronwen had predicted, he and his friends had transformed from sandy beach bums with little effort. More than one appreciative eye had followed them as they’d walked from their parked cars to the restaurant. Ben’s dark hair gleamed and he looked casually chic in a pair of army green chinos and a blue-and-white-striped collarless shirt. She’d never gotten off on the Ivy League, New England prep style before, but damn if Ben didn’t make it look good.
Placing her hand in his, she was no longer surprised at the tingle jolting up her arm with the skin-on-skin contact. She allowed him to pull her to her feet and lead her closer to the jukebox where there was a small space next to a darkened hallway that led to the bathrooms. When he stopped, she went into his arms and, with his hands clasped at her lower back, began swaying to the music.
They’d hugged before but, with the song playing in the background, everything felt a bit more intimate than in the past. The notes flowed over her and her body relaxed into his. She laid her head against his chest and heard the deep, steady thrum of his heart. So solid. So strong. Just like Ben.
“But I can’t help, falling in love with you . . .”
“I’m glad you’re here with me,” he said, his fingers massaging her hips. “Thank you for coming.”
Sensation arrowed through her and she swallowed. “You’re welcome. It’s the least I can do, considering.”
“One isn’t conditioned on the other,” he said softly, their conversation for their ears only. “No matter how this turns out, I’m going to make sure no one interferes with your fellowship.”
She knew that. It was another weight tipping the scale in favor of opening up and giving them a chance.
Because that’s what she’d decided to do.
“I love Haley’s version of this song,” she said instead, drawing a pattern on his bicep.
“I know.” His breath tickled the curls at her temple.
“Just like I know you prefer the original Elvis version.”
“I do.”
“I can’t believe I’d never heard it before it was used in a gum commercial. Now it’s in heavy rotation on my favorite playlist.”
“And since you’re not shy about sharing your music . . .”
She laughed. “Sharing” was a nice way to put it. She had a tendency to play her music loudly when in certain moods.
“Oh, like a river flows, surely to the sea, darlin’ so it goes, some things are meant to be . . .”
He squeezed her close as they continued swaying to the haunting, romantic melody. His thighs were strong as they brushed against hers and the muscles in his back flexed against her palms. Her fingers roamed over the square footage, with a latitude and abandon she’d never before felt free to indulge.
She took a deep breath and admitted, “And that’s what scares me.”
He stiffened. “You’ve lost me.”
“The song. Us. Other than my mom and my girlfriends, you’re the person closest to me. I don’t even know how that happened.”
“I said something similar to Davis and Palmer.”
She looked up at him then. It was time to be honest. To put it all out in the open. No more flirty signals. “We haven’t done anything irrevocable yet. We can go back.”
His eyes glittered down at her. “Can we?”
“If we pursue this . . . attraction, we could risk our friendship. I don’t want to lose that.”
But the compulsion to be with him was getting harder and harder to resist.
“I don’t, either. I haven’t.”
She frowned. “What does that mean?”
“Do you think this is the first time I’ve thought about you in that way?”
Wait, what? “It wasn’t?”
“No. But I can’t ignore it anymore. I don’t want to lose you but I can’t get those texts or the picture you sent out of my mind. Can you?”
“Oh, for I, I can’t help, falling in love with you.”
She shook her head and a curl flew into her face. He smoothed it back, his fingers lingering on her cheek.
“Hey guys,” Davis called out. “The song is ove— Hey! Where are you going?”
“Davis, be quiet,” she heard Bronwen say as Ben led her down the darkened hallway and past the restrooms to another door she hadn’t noticed.
“I want to finish our conversation,” he said, pushing open the door and leading her out to a small balcony that overlooked the restaurant’s parking lot and the harbor beyond.
She braced her hands against the railing and watched the setting sun turn the sky a gorgeous pinkish purple.
He came up behind her, trapping her body between his and the post. “When we were in high school, the patrons would come out here to smoke. I took a chance this was still here, although the restaurants and bars on the island are now smoke-free.”
And speaking of smoke . . .
Just like this morning, the heat from his body burned through the thin fabric of her clothes. She leaned back and let her head fall onto his chest. “What do we do?”
He gripped her hips. “About what?”
“Making the transition. From friends to lovers.”
“Why does it have to be one or the other? Why can’t it be both?”
It could be. It just hadn’t been her experience before.
“I like the sound of that.”
“Good. Because there’s something I want to talk to you about.”
More talking? Nic rolled her eyes. She’d had enough of talking.
Before she could respond, Ben continued, “I was very interested to learn that your nipples were so sensitive. Would you only come from me sucking them or does touching them work, too?”
Nic gasped and the subjects in question tightened.
Holy shit! Ben didn’t just sext, he liked to talk dirty, too.
She had the sudden, clear realization that equating easygoing with safe might’ve been one of the biggest mistakes she’d made in her life.
She glanced around to see if anyone could hear them.
“There’s no one out here. We’re alone. Tell me,” he said, his voice husky and urgent in her ear.
Heat pooled between her thighs and she licked her lips. “Playing with my nipples feels good but having your mouth on them would seal the deal.”
“I can do that.”
Hmmm, she bet he could. “It might take a while.”
He nipped the tip of her ear, then dipped his tongue along the outer ridge. “I’d be willing to keep at it, for as long as you’d need.”
She moaned and rolled her head to the side. “Would you mind if I touched myself while you did it?”
“Of course not.”
Talking to him this way, not able to see one another in the ever-darkening night, was turning her on almost as much as his words.
“You wouldn’t think I was being selfish?”
He brushed his lips down the side of her neck. “You know what you want and you go after it.”
She shivered and gripped the railing so hard she thought the metal would crush between her fingers.
At the appropriate age, her mother had given her a frank talk about sex. She’d also explained about masturbation and the importance of a girl knowing her own body, so the first time she had an orgasm, it wasn’t tied to the person who gave it to her. Dee hadn’t wanted her daughter thinking she needed a man or to engage in risky behaviors to feel that way again.
“I love that,” he said against her skin. “In fact, the thought of you rubbing your clit for your pleasure makes me hard as fuck.”
Her knees actually went weak.
“Oh really?” Turning to face him, she reached down and cupped him through his pants, swallowing as she felt his rigid length.
He was right.
He grabbed the railing on either side of her. “You know where else I want to put my mouth?”
It took Nic a moment to shake off the lethargic spell his words and body were casting over her. “Where?”
“On your pussy. I’ve dreamed of spreading your thighs and tasting your sweetness on my tongue.”
Breath evacuated her body, leaving her light-headed. Good God, the man had a way with words.
“And thanks to your skillful fingers—”
“How do you know they’re skillful?” she asked, inhaling deeply, needing as much air as possible.
He kissed her forehead, the tip of her nose, and her lips. “Because you’re the chief orthopedic surgical resident at one of the top programs in the country. Because you demand excellence of yourself in everything you do. Because you’re you.”
For one brief, dizzying moment, her heart stopped in her chest. And then it began a frenzied beat that should’ve sent her into cardiac arrest.
Ben continued. “As I was saying, by this time you’re probably so wet—”
“I am.” Both in his fantasy and in real life. “My fingers would slip through my folds and I’d want something to slide into me.”
“I’d have just the thing for you,” he said, with a smile that tilted one corner of his mouth and sent sensation arrowing in her belly.
She squeezed his cock again. “I know.”
He leaned his body away from her, allowing the momentum to bring him back until the evidence of his arousal was imprinted on her belly. “I want to fuck you so badly I can barely see straight.”
She stared up into his deep brown eyes and tumbled headlong into them.
“Then what are you waiting for?”