Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“I had a wonderful time tonight.” Taylor slid the key into the front door and turned to smile at Nick over her shoulder. “I love to dance.”
“It was fun,” Nick agreed, though fun didn’t quite capture the electricity of the evening.
They’d spent hours at the club in Denver, losing themselves in the music. The fast songs had been easy, a game of teasing glances and laughter. But the slow dances—that was where the trouble started. Pressed close, her body warm against his, her breath grazing his cheek, he’d battled every instinct that told him to kiss her, to forget about keeping things simple.
“Want to come in for a few minutes?” Taylor offered, pushing open the door. “I could make some coffee and…” A playful twinkle lit her eyes. “I’ve got a pint of chocolate chip ice cream we could share.”
Nick groaned. She knew he loved chocolate chip. And after an entire evening of restraint, she was tempting him with the two things he found impossible to resist—her and ice cream.
He should say no. He needed to say no.
“Sure. Why not?”
Foolish. Reckless. But he followed her inside anyway.
* * *
Minutes later, coffee was brewing, and the small carton of ice cream sat on the counter between them.
Taylor reached into the silverware drawer and held up two spoons. “One? Or two?”
He knew what she was remembering—that night at Dairy Queen, one spoon, one sundae, her laughter mixing with his.
“One.”
Her lips quirked as she dropped the second spoon back into the drawer. She dipped into the soft ice cream and took a slow, lingering bite, her lashes fluttering closed. “Oh, wow. This is so good.”
Nick’s mouth curved. She had no idea how adorable she was.
She held the spoon out toward him, but he hesitated, watching her instead.
“Sweetheart, I can get you another spoon,” she teased. “It’s no problem, really.”
He liked when she called him that. Lately, she’d started saying it even when no one else was around.
“Now why wouldn’t I want to share with you?”
She shrugged. “I could be coming down with a cold. You could end up stuck in bed for a week.”
“I’m used to taking chances.” He reached for her wrist instead of the spoon, then slowly set it aside.
“Don’t you want some?” Her gaze shimmered with teasing warmth. “I can’t eat it all.”
“Oh, I want something,” Nick murmured, “but it’s not ice cream.”
He slipped an arm around her waist, drawing her against him. The moment her body pressed into his, it was over.
Soft. Warm. His.
He traced the curve of her cheek, watching the way her pupils dilated, the way her lips parted just slightly. Her arms wound around his neck, and whatever he’d meant to say was lost.
Their kiss was slow at first, exploratory, but the moment she sighed into his mouth, a switch flipped.
His restraint snapped.
He deepened the kiss, tasting the faint sweetness of chocolate chip, but it wasn’t enough—it would never be enough.
The counter dug into her back, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she clutched at his shirt, pressing closer, her breath uneven.
Nick’s head spun.
“Let’s go upstairs.” His voice came out husky, more command than question.
Taylor blinked up at him. “Upstairs?”
“To the bedroom.”
His hand skimmed down her back, his intentions clear. Tonight, he would make her his. He would erase every doubt, every hesitation. They belonged together, and he would show her just how much.
“Nick.”
His name was barely a whisper, sultry, aching. A shiver ran through him.
“Yes, my love?” He feathered his fingers along her cheek, savoring the way she leaned into his touch.
Taylor swallowed hard. Her breath came fast, uneven. “If I led you on, I’m sorry…”
His mind stumbled.
What?
She stepped out of his embrace, putting space between them. His arms felt suddenly empty.
“What are you saying?” His voice was rougher now, a sharp contrast to the heat still burning inside him.
She gestured toward the door, regret shining in her eyes. “I think it’s time you leave.”
He stared at her, his pulse still hammering. She wanted this. She had kissed him back, held him like she needed him just as much as he needed her.
Didn’t she?
He barely registered her words as she ushered him toward the door.
“Before we both do something we’ll regret.”
Regret?
A humorless laugh scraped his throat, but he swallowed it down. He didn’t trust himself to speak.
Instead, he turned, stepping into the night, the cool air doing nothing to douse the fire still burning inside him.
He wasn’t sure what had just happened.
But for the first time in a long time, Nick Lanagan had no idea what to do next.
* * *
"I’ll have a tall caramel macchiato, please."
Taylor stood at the coffee shop counter, inhaling the warm, rich aroma of espresso and vanilla. She’d have to settle for a salad for dinner to offset the indulgence, but for once, she didn’t care.
“Whipped cream?” The barista poised the can over the cup.
“Please.” Taylor smiled, fishing a ten-dollar bill from her wallet.
"Taylor."
The familiar voice made her turn.
"Mrs. Childs." Taylor’s lips curved into a warm smile. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
"I was out shopping and decided to take a break." Sylvia gestured toward the counter. “The vanilla latte was calling my name.”
Taylor chuckled. “It does have that effect.”
Sylvia’s smile wavered slightly. “I put my bags at a table over there. Would you care to join me?”
Taylor hesitated for only a moment. The errands could wait. "I’d love to."
They made their way to a table by the window after Sylvia got her latte. Outside, the late afternoon sun bathed the historic Town Square in a golden glow. Several years before, city planners had breathed new life into the aging district, restoring the brick buildings without stripping away their vintage charm. Though most shoppers still flocked to the mall at the edge of town, Town Square had found a loyal following—one that appreciated fine boutiques and was willing to pay a premium for high-end goods.
Taylor loved strolling through the shops, running her fingers over soft cashmere sweaters and admiring elegant dresses on display. Once, she’d been able to buy whatever she wanted without a second thought. Now, she settled for window shopping.
“Looks like you did some damage.” Taylor gestured toward the crisp shopping bags Sylvia had propped against the window ledge.
“Not as bad as it looks.” Sylvia waved a dismissive hand. “Charlie desperately needed new clothes, and McMurray’s was having a big sale.”
Taylor’s ears perked up. “Really?” Grandpa Bill’s birthday was coming up, and McMurray’s was his go-to store for classic menswear. Their quality was unmatched, and their service made shopping effortless. “I might have to stop over and see what they have.”
“You should. Georgine’s is having a sale too.” Sylvia’s gaze flickered to Taylor’s sweater, her expression knowing. “You’ve always had impeccable taste.”
Taylor smiled, though part of her wondered if Sylvia recognized the garment. Georgine’s had been her favorite boutique—before she had to cut back. The silk boatneck she wore today was at least three years old, but its timeless elegance kept it from feeling outdated.
“I adore that store,” Taylor admitted.
“I was just on my way over there. Would you care to join me?”
Taylor’s fingers tightened slightly around her coffee cup. She shouldn’t. Her purse was empty, and her credit card was strictly for emergencies. But what would it hurt to browse ?
“Sure, why not? It never hurts to look.”
Sylvia chuckled. “Or buy.”
Taylor lifted her macchiato in a playful toast. “I’ll drink to that.”
They laughed together, their easy camaraderie filling the cozy café. But outside, unseen by both women, an attractive brunette lingered on the sidewalk, her sharp eyes gleaming with satisfaction.
A slow grin spread across her lips— a knowing, Cheshire cat grin .
* * *
“Daddy.”
Claire pushed open the door to her father’s office, ignoring his admin’s frantic wave. She knew she should wait, but why bother? Timing was everything, and this—this was going to work out perfectly.
Two pairs of eyes lifted toward her. Henry Waters’ face broke into a warm smile, but Nick barely acknowledged her with a nod before his attention returned to the documents spread across the worktable.
Typical.
She expected nothing less from Nick Lanagan. So focused. So in control. So convinced he was untouchable.
That was about to change.
“Henry, about?—”
“Nick, let’s take a break.” Her father cut him off, bellowing toward the outer office. “Helen! Bring us some iced tea.”
Claire strolled toward him and pressed a light kiss to his cheek before settling into the chair across from Nick. Close enough to watch him. Close enough to catch every flicker of reaction.
His guard was up, as always. But it wouldn’t stay that way.
“Daddy, I ran into Jack Corrigan downtown this morning. He said to tell you hello.”
Nick’s jaw tightened.
Claire’s lips curved. Perfect.
Henry’s brows lifted. “How’s he doing?”
“Good.” She let out a small sigh, shaking her head as if the news pained her. “Though he’s considering an offer from some West Coast firm.”
Her father straightened. “An offer?”
“A merger, I think.” Claire kept her tone light, almost casual. “Poor Jack. I think it really hurt him when you didn’t choose his firm. After all, you two have been friends for years.”
Henry cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. “Jack understood. It was business.”
A muscle jumped in Nick’s jaw.
Claire could barely contain her satisfaction. She leaned forward slightly, holding Nick’s gaze.
“I told him not to rush into anything.” She widened her eyes, feigning innocence. “A deal’s not done until the papers are signed, right?”
Nick’s grip tightened on his pen. His expression didn’t change, but Claire saw it—that flicker of irritation beneath the polished exterior.
Excitement raced up her spine. Now comes the real fun.
She leaned back, crossing her legs slowly, deliberately. “By the way.” Her tone was almost an afterthought. “I saw your fiancée today.”
Nick’s eyes sharpened.
Gotcha.
“You did? Where?”
“Downtown.” Claire tilted her head slightly, watching the way his expression flickered between curiosity and something else. “Shopping. With your mother.”
Confusion flitted across his features, but Claire didn’t give him time to recover.
“Between the two of them, they must have had a dozen shopping bags.” She gave a saccharine smile and turned toward her father. “Isn’t it nice, Daddy?”
Henry frowned. “Nice?”
She kept her gaze locked on Nick’s, her words meant only for him. “Nick really did get himself a woman just like his mother.”
Silence.
A slow, dangerous tension settled between them.
Oh, how she loved this game.
* * *
Just like his mother .
Nick’s fist slammed into the punching bag, his knuckles stinging even through the padded gloves.
If Taylor wanted to squander the over ten grand he’d paid her this week on designer clothes, he didn’t care.
Another hit. Harder.
If Taylor didn’t want him, he didn’t care.
His right hand shot out like a bullet, striking the leather with a sharp, satisfying thud. The bag jerked wildly, swinging back toward him, but he caught it, steadying it with one gloved hand. His breath came in short bursts, his chest rising and falling in time with the pulsing beat of his fury.
Bam. Right. Bam. Left.
The rhythm was his only escape, the only thing keeping his thoughts in check. After five minutes, the tension in his shoulders started to loosen. After ten, the anger that had burned hot enough to make him cancel his afternoon appointments began to fade.
After twenty, only exhaustion remained.
And something worse.
Disappointment.
Nick ripped off his gloves and sank onto the nearby bench, sweat dripping from his forehead, soaking into the collar of his shirt. He rubbed a hand over his face, his mind reeling.
With all the women in the world, why did he have to go and fall in love with one just like his mother?
Fall in love ?
The thought hit him harder than any punch he’d thrown. His hands tightened into fists at his sides, as if denying the very possibility.
He couldn’t be in love with her.
This was an act. A business arrangement.
Wasn’t it?