Coming Apart at the Seams by Jenna Sutton Page B

with him. Don’t you wonder why he seems to prefer your company over anyone else’s?”
    â€œNot 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.”
    â€œConflagration? 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.
    â€œIf 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.”
    â€œYou know what I mean,” she replied, waving her hand.
    â€œSo you’re telling me you feel nothing for him but friendship?”
    â€œThat’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.
    â€œDo 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.
    He tore his eyes away, but it was too late. The hard-on he’d woken up with had returned, and he cursed under his breath.
    Her head jerked toward him at the sound, her eyebrows winging up her forehead.