Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“Nick, about the other night…”
Taylor paused, pressing her lips together, then tried again. “I hope you don’t think I’m making a mountain out of a—aargh!”
Frustrated, she whirled and dropped onto the bed with a defeated sigh. If she couldn’t even say it out loud in the privacy of her grandparents’ guest room, how was she supposed to say it to him?
The memory of Nick’s expression that night still haunted her—the smoldering heat in his gaze, the way his fingers had traced her cheek, the husky whisper of her name. And then the moment when everything shifted, when she’d seen the raw need in his eyes and had known—known—that if she said yes, nothing between them would ever be the same again.
But she hadn’t said yes. And she wasn’t sure if Nick was more shocked or disappointed.
Taylor squeezed her eyes shut. He was a handsome man. She enjoyed his company. They laughed at the same jokes and shared an appreciation for chocolate chip ice cream and golf. The chemistry between them had been undeniable from the start, an undercurrent of desire simmering just beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to explode.
She could handle the attraction. She could resist the pull of his touch, the way his voice softened when he said her name.
What terrified her was something much bigger.
Love .
The realization had crept in slowly, a whisper at the edge of her consciousness that grew louder with every look, every touch, every heartbeat she spent with him. And now, there was no denying it.
She was in love with her leading man.
That’s why the role had been so easy to play.
Because she wasn’t pretending.
The thought sent a fresh wave of anxiety washing over her. Did Nick feel the same? Had the lines between real and pretend blurred for him, too? Or was she just another woman he wanted in his bed—one he could walk away from when their arrangement ended?
That question had kept her awake for most of the night, twisting and turning in bed, her mind replaying every moment between them. At some point, exhaustion had won, pulling her into a restless sleep filled with dreams she didn’t want to analyze too closely.
Taylor exhaled sharply and grabbed her robe.
A good breakfast first. Then she’d decide what she was going to do about Nick.
* * *
“Taylor. What a surprise.”
A sinking feeling gripped Nick’s gut, but he forced a smile past his unease. Taylor showing up unannounced at his office wasn’t a good sign. He motioned toward the chair across from him. “Take a seat.”
“Good morning.” Her smile was too bright, her tone too smooth—like she was bracing herself for something.
Despite the effortless grace that always made him look twice, Nick couldn’t ignore the subtle lines of fatigue on her face. Her green eyes, normally so vibrant, seemed dimmed by restless nights and thoughts she hadn’t voiced.
He could relate. His own emotions had been on a relentless roller coaster, throwing his sleep off balance, making him question every instinct.
He wanted her. Not just physically—though God knew that part was driving him crazy—but in a way that unsettled him. Having Tony around had stirred up something raw and unfamiliar. Fear. Fear of losing her. So he’d pushed too hard. Moved too fast.
But he couldn’t lose what they were building.
There was something about Taylor that made him feel warm inside, that made him think about sitting in front of a fire on a cold winter day with a dog at his feet and her at his side. Warm inside? Nick gave a strangled groan. He’d been burning with a different kind of fire last night.
She tilted her head slightly. “Did you say something?”
He blinked, realizing a low groan had slipped from his throat. “Before you start... I want you to know I’m sorry about last night.” He raked a hand through his hair, the apology foreign on his lips. He should have been the one to reach out this morning, to clear the air. It would have taken all of five minutes. But instead, he’d buried himself in work—his go-to distraction.
If you always do what you’ve always done ...
He shoved the thought aside and focused on Taylor.
She shifted, looking as if the plush leather of his office chair had suddenly turned to stone. “We need to talk.”
Four words that never meant anything good.
“I thought that’s what we were doing.”
She humored him with a half-smile, but her eyes remained serious. “Do you want to start, or should I?”
His gut told him to walk away now. Whatever she was about to say wouldn’t be what he wanted to hear. He stood abruptly. “Go ahead.”
“I’d feel better if you sat down.”
The slight tremble in her voice sent a prickle of concern down his spine. Against his better judgment, he sat, turning his chair toward her.
A chill settled between them, unspoken words tightening the air. He wanted to reach for her hand, to reassure her that whatever this was, they’d figure it out together. But he remained still, flicking an invisible piece of lint off his sleeve instead.
Taylor took a deep breath. “I don’t want to simply sleep with someone or have sex. I want to make love.”
The words were soft but firm, and the pink creeping up her cheeks told him how hard they were to say.
“And I want that person to be my husband,” she continued, her gaze unwavering. “I want it to mean something. Not just… something I do with a guy I hired for the summer.”
Nick flinched. “Is that all I am to you?”
His voice came out harsher than he intended, laced with something dangerously close to pain.
A flicker of regret crossed her face, but she didn’t waver. Instead, she met his gaze head-on. “Tell me, Nick—what’s the most important thing in your life?”
The answer was automatic. “This company. Making it stronger. Bigger. The best.”
She gave a sad, knowing nod. “That’s what I thought you’d say.”
For one wild second, he wanted to grab her, kiss her, prove that this was more than just a business deal. That she meant more. But he hesitated, like he always did, and the moment passed.
“What does that have to do with us?” He kept his voice even, detached.
“It shows how far apart we are on everything that really matters.”
“We’re not that far apart.” His voice dipped lower, smoother, the way he knew could persuade her. “We get along great. You like golf. I like golf?—”
“This isn’t about golf, Nick.” Her voice sharpened. “Or chocolate chip ice cream. It’s about who we are in here.” She placed a hand over her heart, her green eyes luminous with emotion.
He scoffed, folding his arms. “I didn’t realize I was such a bad guy.”
“You’re not.” A shaky breath left her lips. “But our priorities? They don’t match. We want different things. And because of that, there can never be anything real between us.”
The words landed like a punch to the gut.
He forced himself to breathe evenly, to keep his expression impassive. “Let me guess. The most important thing in your life is family.”
“God and family,” she corrected. “I don’t put my job above everything else.”
His jaw tightened. “That’s easy for you to say. You don’t have people depending on you for a paycheck every month.”
“You’re right, I don’t.” Her voice softened. “But when it comes down to it, Nick, at the end of the day, isn’t coming home to someone who loves you what really matters?”
“I suppose this is where the pitter-patter of twelve little feet comes in?” Sarcasm dripped from his tone.
“That’s right.” No hesitation. No apology. “When your father was dying, what mattered in that moment? How many people he employed? Or having his wife and son by his side?”
Nick stiffened. Take care of the company .
That was all his father had said before he took his last breath. No words of love for his wife. No words of comfort for his son.
Nick forced a chuckle, shaking off the weight pressing against his ribs. “This is getting way too serious. Why don’t we just agree to disagree?”
“Agree to disagree?”
“Yeah.” He shrugged. “Like you said, we’re too far apart on what we believe. Why even discuss it?”
“What about us?”
“What us?” His voice was cool, detached. “You said it yourself—there can never be anything real between us.”
A flicker of hurt crossed her face. “I was hoping I was wrong.”
Nick swallowed hard, but his expression remained unreadable.
“I thought maybe…” Her voice faltered. “That you wanted more from me than just a good time.”
His throat tightened, but he forced out the words anyway. “You’re a beautiful woman.”
Taylor sucked in a sharp breath as if he’d slapped her. Without another word, she grabbed her bag and shot to her feet. “I wish I’d never agreed to this.”
“I wish I’d never asked.” He felt like a recalcitrant child talking back, trying to one-up her, but he couldn’t seem to make himself stop. “I should have given you your old job back the second I realized it was all a mistake.”
The second the words left his mouth, he regretted them. But it was too late.
She froze in the doorway. “My old job? What are you talking about?”
He stifled a curse.
“I found out recently there was a mistake. The pink slip was meant for Kay Taylor in the audit department. Not you. Funny, huh?”
She turned slowly, her expression unreadable. “And you didn’t tell me?”
Because I was afraid to lose you.
He shrugged. “What would’ve been the point?”
Taylor stared at him for a long moment, something breaking behind her eyes. “I thought I knew you.”
“I guess not.”
She turned, and this time, he didn’t stop her.
You want me as much as I want you.
Nick wanted to yell the words, hurl them like a challenge, force her to admit what they both knew. That the way she had melted into him, clung to him, wasn’t pretend. That the way her lips had trembled against his, the way she had felt in his arms, wasn’t an act.
But what would that prove?
Her body had said yes.
Her heart had said no.
And that, more than anything, was what gutted him.
The door closed with a quiet finality, and the sound of it ricocheted through the hollow space in his chest.
Hot anger surged—at Taylor, at himself, at this whole ridiculous mess. He had wanted her, wanted them, more than he was willing to admit. But she had walked away, just like that.
Like he didn’t matter.
Nick shot to his feet, needing to get out, to move, to breathe.
His gaze landed on the framed photograph on his wall—his father, holding up a trophy, smiling with the kind of pride Nick had spent his whole life chasing. He turned away.
The scent of Taylor’s perfume still hung in the air, delicate and tormenting, wrapping around his senses like a cruel reminder.
He had to get out.
Without knowing where he was going, he grabbed his keys, left the office, and drove.
The streets blurred past him, familiar sights feeling foreign under the weight pressing against his chest.
By the time he pulled into Town Square, the day was still bright and golden, mocking his dark mood.
He stepped out of the car, shoved his hands into his pockets, and started walking.
Storefronts passed in a haze of movement and color. A boutique with mannequins dressed in floral sundresses. A bakery with trays of fresh pastries stacked in the window. A toy shop, its shelves lined with teddy bears and rocking horses.
Places where people came to build something—a home, a life, a family. Mothers pushing strollers, couples holding hands, old friends stopping to chat. Life was happening all around him, but Nick felt separate from it. Like he was standing behind glass, watching it unfold on the other side.
His father had spent his life building an empire.
Nick had spent his life trying to preserve it.
And in doing so, he’d never stopped to ask himself why.
Or what it had cost him.
Today, the answer was painfully clear.
It had cost him Taylor.
And if he didn’t do something soon, it would cost him everything.
* * *
Nick sent up a silent plea for some solitude as he walked through the town square, but fate had other plans.
The place bustled with life—mothers corralling their children, elderly couples enjoying the shade, and shoppers weaving through the shortcut across the park. A second stroller clipped his ankle, and he barely held back a curse. With a sigh, he made his way to a nearby bench, rubbing at the ache in his leg.
He pulled out his phone, intending to check his schedule, but the moment the screen lit up, he shoved it back into his pocket. What did it matter? His calendar was full, his business thriving—yet the one thing he truly wanted had slipped right through his fingers.
The woman he loved wouldn’t have him.
“Is there room for two on that bench?”
Nick’s head snapped up.
Claire stood before him, the sunlight catching the golden strands in her dark hair. She wore a yellow sundress that hugged her figure, her tan skin glowing against the fabric. In one hand, she clutched a shopping bag, the other gripping her purse just a little too tightly.
There was something different about her today. A flicker of uncertainty—hesitation, even. An uncharacteristic blush crept up her neck, as though for once, she wasn’t completely in control.
Nick should have said no.
He should have gotten up and walked away.
But unlike Taylor, here was a woman who wanted him.
He shoved down the voice of conscience clawing at his gut and gestured to the empty space beside him. “There’s room.”
Claire’s smile brightened, though he noticed the way she studied him, as if assessing his mood.
“Beautiful day, isn’t it?” she remarked lightly.
Nick gave a noncommittal shrug. “I guess.”
“I’m surprised Taylor isn’t here with you.”
Something bitter twisted in his chest. “She has her life. I have mine.”
The words tasted like regret.
Claire tilted her head, watching him carefully. “I’ve missed you, Nick.” Her voice was soft, lacking its usual edge. “We used to have a lot of fun together.”
Under different circumstances, he would have dismissed the comment, maybe even laughed it off. But the wound Taylor had left was still fresh, raw and aching. Claire wasn’t attacking him, wasn’t belittling his choices—she was just there. And at that moment, he wasn’t sure he wanted to be alone.
He nodded, his answer more honest than it should have been. “We did.”
Claire leaned in slightly.
“Now you have Tony to show you a good time.”
“He’d rather be with Taylor.”
The words landed like a punch to the gut.
Nick forced an indifferent smirk. “Is that so?”
“It doesn’t matter.” Claire shrugged, but there was something wounded in her expression. “I don’t want someone who doesn’t want me.”
Nick exhaled slowly. “Me, either.”
Claire studied him, something unreadable flickering in the depths of her dark eyes. Then, slowly, she leaned in, her voice just above a whisper, low and sultry.
“I’d much rather be with you.”
Nick didn’t move.
Maybe he should have.
Maybe this was the moment to step back, to put distance between them before the situation spiraled into something he couldn’t undo.
But he didn’t.
Not when her fingers trailed lightly over his forearm, lingering just long enough to send a slow, deliberate message. Not when she lifted her hand to his chest, smoothing out an invisible crease in his shirt, her touch featherlight but unmistakable.
Not when she reached up, threading her fingers into his hair, tilting her head just so, her lips dangerously close to his ear as she whispered, "I don’t know why you fight it, Nicky."
His breath came sharp through his nose.
Taylor had walked away.
Taylor had chosen to let him go.
Claire hadn’t.
Her fingers traced the edge of his jaw, her nails barely skimming his skin. "I see you, Nick. I know what you need."
With one hand, he reached up—intending to stop her, to push her away—but instead, his fingers brushed against a loose strand of her hair, tucking it behind her ear. The scent of her perfume curled around him, heady and expensive.
Claire smiled, tilting her face toward his touch, her lashes fluttering as she stepped even closer, her body almost brushing his.
"You don’t have to be alone," she murmured.
His pulse pounded.
He could walk away. He should walk away.
And yet, he stood there, caught in the moment, in the nearness of her, in the promise written in the curve of her lips.
And then?—
"What’s going on here?"
The voice rang sharp and firm.
Nick froze.
Claire’s fingers stilled against his chest.
His stomach dropped as he turned toward the sound, already knowing before he even laid eyes on the person standing behind them.
And just like that, whatever had been about to happen vanished, crashing him back into reality like a cold slap of water to the face.
Nick jerked back as though burned, his head snapping up.
Bill Rollins stood on the sidewalk, his expression a mixture of shock, anger, and—worst of all—disappointment.
“Bill—” Nick started, but Taylor’s grandfather lifted a hand.
“What the…” The older man took a deep breath, visibly reigning in his temper. “Will someone tell me what’s going on here?”
Claire smirked. “What does it look like?”
Nick clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to curse. What the heck was he doing?
“Claire, Bill and I need to talk. Alone.”
Claire opened her mouth, but the sharpness in Nick’s gaze silenced whatever protest she had ready.
With a dramatic sigh, she stood, smoothing her dress like a woman utterly unbothered. “Nick, sweetheart, I’ll be home after six. Call me.”
Nick clenched his fists as he watched her saunter away.
The moment she disappeared from view, he turned back to Bill, but before he could say a word?—
“It looks like you’re cheating on my granddaughter,” Bill said coolly. “Is that what you’re doing, Nick? Cheating on Taylor?”
Nick prided himself on control. Even in the most heated business negotiations, he never lost his composure.
But as a hot flush crept up his neck, he realized he had no defense.
He forced himself to meet Bill’s gaze. “Taylor and I have been having some problems.”
“And you think turning to another woman will solve them?” Bill’s voice was incredulous.
Nick exhaled slowly. “It was stupid.”
“You bet it was stupid.”
The blunt words hit him like a slap.
Bill’s expression softened—just slightly—but his eyes remained sharp, assessing. “I’m going to ask you something, and I want you to be honest with me.”
Nick stiffened.
“Do you love my granddaughter?”
The answer should have been immediate.
Instead, it clawed its way up his throat, thick and aching.
He closed his eyes for half a second, pushing past the anger, the rejection, the mess he’d made of everything.
All that remained was the truth.
“I do.” His voice was hoarse. “Very much.”
Bill exhaled, his shoulders relaxing. “Then go to her. Work out whatever problems you’re having. Pray to the Almighty for guidance. He’s helped Kaye and me through many a rough time. He can do the same for you. You just need to ask.”
Nick let out a breath, running a hand down his face.
If only it could be that simple.