Téa

The house is quiet. Nick and Scarlet have been gone for an hour, and I’m almost done editing. I need to get off the floor and stretch my legs. It’s sunny and beautiful outside but after this morning’s oppressive heat, I think I’ll wander around in the house and be nosy.

I noticed a long hall off of the living room with pictures on both sides of the walls earlier, but I didn’t take the time to stop and look at them. The first is a large portrait of Scarlet as a baby dressed in a christening gown. Her eyes were even more striking than they are now on her small baby face. She would have made a perfect baby model, but I’m sure Nick had more important things on his mind like trying to raise an infant alone.

Opposite the picture of Scarlet is one of a beautiful young woman laughing and running away from the photographer. A couple of steps farther, I realize it’s a series. The second picture shows the same woman facing the camera, but it looks like she’s running backward, holding her hands out in front of her while still laughing. The third is a selfie of Nick and the woman on the same day lying in the tall grass together, kissing. It's Mariah and Nick before she was pregnant with Scarlet. He looks happy with his lips curved into a smile as he kisses her.

I step back and examine all three photos at the same time. The photographer did an excellent job of seizing the moment by taking the pictures in succession. He or she took each of the pictures only seconds apart at precisely the perfect moment. The way they are framed and hung makes it look like one long picture broken only by the space between them.

Next are wedding photos of Nick and Mariah. Mariah is breathtaking in her floor-length mermaid gown, standing next to Nick in his custom-tailored tuxedo.

Suddenly I feel like an intruder in Mariah’s home, like a mistress snooping around looking for clues on how to steal her husband away from her.

It’s silly, I know, but their love story is everywhere I turn. It's no wonder Nick had so much trouble moving on living in the house that his wife designed from the ground up with pictures of her everywhere. I’m surprised he doesn’t have a giant painting of her over the fireplace instead of a mirror.

I’m not jealous. I don’t think. It’s just that I like Nick a lot, and seeing how time has stood still in this house for four years makes me sad for him.

I turn around and find many pictures of Scarlet over the years. Most of them include an older, jolly-looking woman who must be Mimi. It’s obvious from Scarlet’s constant smile that she was a good nanny, probably even a great one.

The hall opens up into a large round solarium furnished with wrought iron furniture, with fat cushions covered in pink peonies. It’s like being outside but without all of the irritating things that come with nature like bugs and heat.

This solves the wanting to be outside but not wanting to be outside in the brutal heat problem. I take a seat in one of the chairs and tuck my feet underneath me. My phone buzzes in my back pocket. I slip it out and check the screen.

It’s Bridgette. I press the green accept button and then the speaker button.

“Hey, Téa, how ya doin’?”

“Great, you?”

“Fine, fine. So, how was your photo shoot with your hot football friend yesterday?”

“It went well, like, really well.”

“Something happened, didn't it? You better tell me all about it.”

“You called me up for some juicy gossip, didn’t you, Bridgette?”

“No, I called to invite you to dinner tonight at our house. Blake decided to do the bug-free party already. He’s a crazy man, making me cook for all these people last minute.”

“I’d love to come, can I bring a date?”

“Can you?” she says, repeating my words and clucking her tongue. I can just see her rolling her eyes and shaking her head on the other end of the line.

“Of course you can bring a date. Who’s the lucky, oh Lord Jesus, you’re bringing Nico Wood to my dinner party, aren’t you?”

“If that’s all right, yes.”

“All right? Are you nuts? My husband is going to have a stroke when I tell him the Nico Wood from the South Carolina Hawks is going to be at his house eating dinner with his friends at his dining room table.”

Her voice rises with each word and by the end, she’s almost shouting. I laugh and wait for her to catch her breath. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to invite him along. I’ve never dated anyone famous before. I never thought about him being recognized in public. To me, he’s just Nick but to the rest of the world, he’s the Nico Wood, star quarterback for the Hawks.

“He’s just a man, Bridgette. I mean, he’s hot as hell and gracious and charming, but he’s pretty down to earth. In fact, I better ask him before I say he’s my plus one. He might not even do things like this.”

“Well, you call him up and ask then, and I won’t say anything until you let me know. You’re coming no matter what though, right?”

“Sure, count me in.”

“Good, be here at seven. I’ll text you the address, so you don’t forget it.”

“Thanks, I’ll let you know if Nick can come.”

“Sounds good, talk to you tonight.”

“Bye.”

I press the red end button on my phone and consider my outfit options for this evening. I didn’t pack for a dinner party, but Bridgette and Blake aren’t uptight. If I show up at a party full of firefighters with Nick, nobody will give me a second glance anyway, and that’s cool with me.

Back in the living room, I curl up on the couch and finish my edits. The pictures are better than I could have hoped for. The sunrise shots have a magical feel to them and the pictures on the pier look like they should be in a travel magazine.

An hour later, I hear a car pull up in front of the house, and two minutes later Scarlet is bouncing through the door, followed by her ruggedly handsome daddy.

“Hey, how’s Mimi?”

“Good, she gave me this,” Scarlet says, holding up an American Girl doll that looks exactly like her.

“She’s your twin.” She crawls into my lap, pushing my laptop aside. I chuckle at her forwardness and close it up to cuddle with her and her new doll.

Nick is standing in the entryway of the living room rubbing the back of his neck, watching us.

“Did you have a nice visit?”

“Yeah, she’s doing great. Are you okay with all of this?” he asks, waving a loose wrist in my direction.

I look down at Scarlet and back at Nick. “What? This?” I squeeze the little girl in my lap tight, and she giggles.

Nick enters the room and sits opposite us on the couch.

“Yes. I’m just so surprised. She’s so affectionate with you. Not that you’re hard to be affectionate with, far from it.” He winks, relaxing against the pillows on the couch. He toes off his shoes like he’s been dying to take them off since he left.

“She’s never been much of a cuddler.”

“I cuddle with you, Daddy,” she says, looking up from her doll to defend herself.

“I know, honey. I mean with other people.”

“I don’t mind at all. I haven’t been around kids much either, but this one is special,” I say through my teeth while I tickle her ribs.

She wiggles in my lap, smiling like it’s Christmas morning.

“I’m special.”

“That you are, Letty. I’m glad you like Téa so much, because I like her too.”

“She’s family,” Scarlet says with a firm nod of her head. Family? I wonder where that came from.

Nick moves to the edge of the couch and rests his forearms on his knees.

“Téa is our friend, baby, remember? We talked about this.”

“You did?” The words slip out of my mouth before I can think. Nick lowers his gaze to the floor between his feet.

She props her doll against my chest and places her hands on my cheeks to make sure all of my attention is on her when she speaks.

“You come to Hawaii with us. You’re family, you can go.”

I cover her hands with mine. “Oh honey, I’m not really family. I’m a guest. Do you know what a guest is?” She shakes her head back and forth.

“A guest is somebody who comes to stay with you at your house for a little while, and then they go home.”

Her smile fades, and that lip of hers pokes out. Tears well in her eyes and her hands drop from my face. I look at Nick and silently plead for help.

“You don’t have many houseguests, do you?”

“No, you’re the first one.”

“You’ve never had someone stay with you?”

“Well, yes, there’s Ben. But he’s here all the time, and I’ve always told her he was family, hence the confusion.”

Scarlet crawls out of my lap and down the couch into her father's arms. Crap, how did this happen? I’ve gone from being family to an outcast in ten seconds flat.

She turns her back on me, and I mouth the words “now what” and hold my hands out, palms up. I feel bad. I had no idea kids could become attached so quickly.

“She’ll be okay. I did, however, want to talk to you about something. You mentioned once that you weren’t crazy about working for Crush, didn’t you?”

I pull my legs up, tugging my long skirt down over them, and wrap my arms around my knees.

“Well, yes. It’s not terrible, but I would prefer to be more freelance.” I wonder where he’s going with this. We were just talking about family and vacations, and now he’s asking about my career aspirations.

“I have a proposition, but I want you to hear me out before you say no, okay?”

I sigh and rest my chin on my knees. It’s usually not good when someone thinks you’re going to say no before they even ask the question.

“How strong are your ties in Chicago?”

“My ties? Like my life? Pretty strong I suppose, my parents are there and so is my best friend. Why?”

He seems to deflate a bit but quickly rebuilds his resolve.

“I need a nanny, and Scarlet has taken to you so well, not to mention I think you’re incredible too.”

I start to speak, and he holds up his hand, palm out, to stop me.

“No, no. Listen to the rest.”

I switch positions so that I am sitting cross-legged, leaning forward.

“Okay, go ahead. I’ll listen.”

“Like I said, I need full-time help with Scarlet, and you want more freedom to start your own business. I think we can help each other out. I’d like to hire you full-time to take care of Scarlet and in return, I’ll pay you twice whatever the magazine is paying you and give you start-up money for your business. I also need a photographer for our trip to Hawaii. The trip has some extenuating circumstances that we can talk about later, but it needs to be documented professionally through photographs. It could also be a great place to build a tropical portfolio as well, you know, for National Geographic or Time Magazine.”

I am stunned into silence, sitting with my jaw in my lap. He wants to hire me as a nanny and help me start my own business? And go to Hawaii? What the hell? I feel like I just found the winning ticket to the lottery in my wallet.

“I know it’s a lot to think about. Don’t feel like you have to answer right away about all the permanent stuff, but please come with us to Hawaii on Tuesday, as a photographer and my friend.”

Scarlet turns in his lap and looks at me with big, stormy blue-gray eyes that look more like her father’s today than usual.

“I uh, gosh. I don’t know what to say. That’s a fantastic offer.”

“Yes, life-changing, if you want it to be.”

“Are you going on the plane with us?” Scarlet asks. Her eyes are wide, and her lips part in anticipation of my answer.

What the hell, why not? I’ve wanted to quit my job at Crush for over a year now, and Nick is giving me the perfect excuse to do so served on a silver platter.

“Okay, yes, but only Hawaii. I’ll have to think about the rest.”

“Fair enough.”

Scarlet launches herself out of his lap and across the couch, squealing with joy. “You’re going! You’re going!” she sings, wrapping her arms around my neck.

“Yes, I guess I am," I say with a chuckle.

I look at Nick over Scarlet’s shoulder as she squeezes me around the neck. His eyes are full of something I can’t identify. It's moments like this that I wish I could read minds. I’d like to know what’s going on in there.

He leans forward, and I think he is getting up, but instead he places his hands on the center cushion behind Scarlet and stretches over to whisper into her ear. “How about a root beer float?”

“Yes!” she slides out of my lap and takes off toward the kitchen.

“I never give her ice cream before dinner, but I've wanted to do this since we got home.” He moves closer so that we are facing each other on the couch and slides his hand behind my neck into my hair. I close my eyes, anticipating his kiss, but I feel his hand on my breast instead. I open my eyes a crack and see him watching his finger trace my nipple.

“You’re so beautiful, Téa. Can I tell you something?”

His lifts his eyes to mine, but I think I must have started holding my breath at some point, because I can’t speak. I nod my head slightly.

“I want you to sleep with me tonight. I’ve wanted to bury myself inside of you since the first moment I saw you on that plane. I want to feel your legs wrapped around my waist, and I want to hear you screaming my name. ”

I don’t answer because he lowers his mouth to mine and lightly pinches my nipple. I moan and lean into him, arching my back, begging for more.

I want to tell him that I love his dirty mouth, and I'd love to have sex with him tonight. Hell, I’d have sex with him right here on this couch if we didn’t have a date with his daughter to make root beer floats.

I thread my fingers into the hair at the base of his neck and slide my other hand between his legs to feel the impressive outline of his cock bulging against his shorts. The memory of him standing next to the pool with his soaking-wet lounge pants this morning flashes through my mind, and it’s all I can do to pull away when Scarlet yells for us to hurry up from the kitchen.

He moans and with his eyes still closed speaks against my open mouth.

“I’m going to take that as a yes.”

I nod, and he moves farther away so that our foreheads are touching.

“I’ve never asked a woman to have sex with me hours ahead of time. I’m going to be hard for you until we go to bed.”

“Well, it's safe to say that you can call me the lady of the lake until then as well.”

“Oh, God, this is going to be torture.”

I pull away and stand up. He continues to sit and tugs me between his legs and wraps his arms around my waist.

“I have an idea that might help.”

He tips his head back to look up at me with earnest eyes, and his mouth sets in a straight line.

“We can’t sneak into the laundry room. She always knows where I am.”

I pretend to knock him on the side of his head.

“That’s not what I was going to say. Do you remember my friend Bridgette that asked me to stay with her?”

“Yes. What, you want a threesome already? Can’t I have you to myself a few times before I have to share?”

“Stop it, no, I don’t want a threesome! I was going to say she invited us to dinner at her house tonight. Maybe we should go to take our minds off of our impending sextathalon.”

His eyes brighten, and his hands slide down to cup my ass, “It’s going to be a sextathalon?”

“Yeah, a real workout.”

He groans and drops his head back to stare at the ceiling.

“Okay, we can go to dinner, but we have to come home early.”

“I think I should warn you it's a dinner party for a group of firefighters. I told her I’d have to check with you first.”

“Sure, whatever, as long as I get to come home and have a sextathalon with you. I don’t care who we eat dinner with.”

“What are you doing with my friend, Daddy?” Scarlet says from the doorway with her hands on her hips.

Nick releases me, and I take a step back so he can stand up.

“I was giving her a hug to thank her for going to Hawaii with us.”

She narrows her eyes and purses her lips for a moment, deciding if that’s okay with her.

“That’s nice, Papa Bear. Let’s eat.” She spins around, and I hear her pitter patter back into the kitchen.

“She called you Papa Bear.” I purse my lips, holding back a giggle.

His cheeks turn pink. God, I love it when he blushes.

“Yeah, she saves that for special moments.”

“That’s sweet, Papa Bear,” I say.

“Don’t you start too, that’s just weird.”

I chuckle. “It didn’t feel right anyway.”

“Thank God.”

We spend the afternoon making root beer floats and swimming in the pool. I text Bridgette to tell her my plus one will be coming, and Nick makes arrangements to drop Scarlet off at his mother’s so we can go on our date.

I don’t have a second to think about all of the changes coming in my life. Between stolen glances, root beer floats, and being dunked countless times in the pool, I’ve managed to keep my feelings about sleeping with Nick tonight at bay. But as soon as I’m alone in my room getting ready for dinner, a surge of thrill and emotion floods my mind.

There’s no doubt that I want this, none, zero, zip, nada, but it’s been a long time since I’ve had sex with a man that I have genuine feelings for. And they aren’t just mild, I-think-I-might-like-you feelings. They are oh-my-God-I’m-totally-into-you feelings. They’re big feelings, important feelings, momentous, earth-shattering and undeniable feelings.

These are “the one” feelings.

That reminds me of my conversation with Emmett last night about being romantic and looking for the one.

It’s strange that I only know him through text messaging because he makes me feel some of the same things that Nick does in person. Emmett flirts a little more than Nick, but they both turn me on equally. Well, almost.

Nick has the significant advantage of being able to touch me and melt my heart with his passionate glances and soft kisses.

Emmett has to work hard to keep me interested because all he has are his words. I think it’s pretty impressive that simple text conversations keep me coming back for more.

Is it possible to have the one kind of feelings for two people at the same time? No, dummy, that’s why they call that special person “the one.” So why do I feel the urge to have something serious with both of these men?

I need to talk to Emmett. I’m not waiting until later to chat with him. It’s entirely possible that I’ll be mid O around eleven o’clock with Nick when Emmett and I usually chat. I already left him hanging once. I don’t want to do that again. I like talking to Emmett, he’s a refreshing balance of sweet and sexy.

I’m about to step into the shower when I send my first message.

Me -- Hey Champ, you around?

I’m standing naked just outside the shower door, holding my phone out in front of me with two hands, waiting for his reply like a lovesick teenager.

Tiny bubbles appear in the corner of the screen indicating that he is typing, and I bounce on the balls of my feet until his words pop up.

Him -- Hey Quinn, couldn’t wait, huh?

Me -- You caught me. I missed you. I’m also going to be busy later.

Him -- Hmm, I’m glad you miss me but a little worried that my competition will be occupying my time slot tonight.

I didn’t think this through very well. I don’t want to lie to him, but I also don’t want to admit that I’ll be with Nick tonight. I need to think fast.

Me -- That’s why they call it competition, right?

There is a long pause, so I step in the shower and start washing my hair while I nervously await his answer.

The ding of his incoming text makes me jump. I can’t believe I’m so nervous. I really like Emmett, but I’m definitely feeling a little guilty about talking to both men at the same time.

I dry my hand off and reach out to find out if I’ve been dumped.

Him -- You have officially lit a fire under my ass, tell your real life guy it’s on.

I let out a yip and hold the phone outside the shower to type my response.

Me -- I’m glad to hear that, he might not be, however.

Him -- Well, I’m only concerned with what you like to hear. Tell him to take a hike because your real boyfriend is calling dibs.

Me -- Boyfriend huh? Now that's interesting. I’ll pass it along. Can you hold on a second? I’m just stepping into the shower, but I’ll hurry.

Him -- No! Don’t hurry. I have an idea. How about you let me talk you through it.

Talk me through it, huh? Oh, my, this is going to be interesting.

Me -- I shampooed my hair, that’s all.

Him -- Good, can you put the phone where you can see it but somewhere safe away from the water?

Me -- Hold please.

I scan the large walk-in stone shower and decide on turning off the body sprayers and prop the phone in the space cut out for bottles of shampoo and body wash. With only the rain shower head on, I can see the screen without getting it wet.

Me -- Okay, now what?

Him -- Is the water hot?

Me -- Yes, very.

Him -- Your hair is clean, so why don't we concentrate on more important things, like your body. I’ll guide, you enjoy, don’t worry about messaging me back right away. Unless, of course, you feel the uncontrollable urge to send me a picture. Copy?

Me -- Affirmative.

Him -- Okay, I want you to spread the body wash in your hands over your soft wet breasts. I love breasts by the way, no matter the size, they are my favorite part of a woman. Sorry, got off track there for a second, I’m a man, my mind wanders, you know.

A breast man, good thing I don't lack in that department. I do as he asks, but guilt tugs at me for messing around in the shower virtually with Emmett while I'm getting ready for a date with Nick.

Him -- Let the water cascade over your shoulders and run down over the mounds of your breasts, streaming off of your stiff nipples. Are you relaxed? Wait, don’t answer that.

Oh my God, he’s good at this. The heat of the water and his steamy words have my muscles loosening, my blood pumping, and I’m even a little dizzy. I reach out to steady myself against the wall.

Him -- Open up your hands and slide your nipples between your fingers. Pinch them both. I’m so hard right now, Quinn. I wish I were there with you. If I were, I’d put my mouth on you everywhere. There isn’t a place on your body that I wouldn’t claim with my tongue.

Holy shit, he means business. Maybe I should stop him, or maybe I should just stop participating and read what he has to say.

Him -- Slide one hand down over your belly and between your legs. If I were there right now, I’d kneel down in front of you, spread your legs wide, and lick your pussy until you scream my name. Imagine that, think of me there in the shower with you, in front of you, with my hands and mouth all over you.

Every nerve ending on my skin is on high alert. I slide my tongue along my top lip, concentrating on the words popping up on the glowing screen of my phone. But I don't touch myself.

Him -- Quinn, my message might be a little slower now. I’m not the best at one-handed texting, but the thought of you touching yourself in the shower, following my commands, getting off because of me . . . it’s making me hot. Are you feeling good? Let me make you feel even better.

I wish we were talking instead of texting. I want to tell him that I'm not sure about this and maybe we should slow down and get to know each other better. But as it is, I'd feel weird saying anything since we are supposed to be halfway to heaven. It's not that this couldn't get me off, and I'm far from a prude. But somewhere along the way we have crossed the line from friendship to sex, and I don't think I'm ready.

Him -- Touch the spot that makes you weak. Sit down if you need to because this is gonna be one hell of an orgasm, I guarantee it.

I grab the phone, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. Text him Téa, tell him this isn't right for you, tell him you're not doing this.

Him -- Quinn? I want you to get close, but don’t let yourself come, not yet. Keep a nice slow pace. Touch yourself. That’s it beautiful girl, let go now, come for me Quinn, say my name, let go of everything and come.

My hand twitches at the thought of what could have just been, and I sit down on the built-in bench in the shower. I whisper his name to myself and wait in silence, allowing him to believe he just made me come.

I tip my head back and stare up at the long horizontal window at the top of the shower. My phone dings and I drop my gaze to see what he's texting, or sexting, if we are still supposed to be doing that. I’m not sure.

Him -- Well? How’d I do? Still going to be busy with the competition later tonight?

Shit. What am I going to say? 'Um, sorry I dropped the phone, could you repeat all of that please?' I'm not giving up my date with Nick, and I'm not telling Emmett he just had a one-sided encounter.

Me -- Where’d you learn to talk dirty like that? And yes, I’m still going to the party, I can’t back out now.

I don’t want to mislead him, even though technically I just did, and I hate lying. He took me off guard and he didn't give me much opportunity to back out.

Him -- I’m disappointed, I won’t lie. Just remember, I can make you come without laying a hand on you. That has to count for something. My dirty mouth comes naturally. I didn’t learn it from anyone. Maybe next time we can talk instead of text?

Me -- So there will be a next time?

Him -- Oh yes, Quinn, there will be many next times. I want to wear you down until eventually we can do this in person. No rush though. Take all the time you need, just don’t disappear on me.

Me -- Never, you’re stuck with me now. I do need to get out of this shower before I shrivel up like a raisin.

Him -- Go, dry off and go to your party. Don’t have too much fun. Text me if you get lonely, text me if you don’t get lonely, sneak away into the bathroom and text me while your boyfriend waits outside the door.

Me -- You’re bad, but a little bad is good. I’ll text you, I promise. And Emmett?

Him -- Yeah?

Me -- I like you more today than I did yesterday.

Him -- Progress is a beautiful thing. Good-bye, beautiful girl.

Me -- Bye, Emmett.

I sit in the shower for a few seconds, trying to decide if I should do what I’m thinking about doing. I want to give him something real, not virtual. What the hell, why not?

I click on the camera button and hold up my phone strategically, focusing it only on my breasts, careful not to show any of my tattoos or identifying marks, which isn’t easy. I take a picture, check it one more time for anything that could tie the photo directly to me, and hit send.

I step out of the shower and reach for a towel, and my phone dings. I look at myself in the foggy mirror and smile before I read his text.

Him -- Fuck. You’re killing me, Red. If I find out the rest of you is as exquisite as your breasts, I’ll move heaven and earth to find you in real life. You’re going to be mine, Quinn Lastgoodwoman10, mark my words.

I don’t respond because I have no idea what to say. If I hadn’t met Nick, I would be setting up a face-to-face date with Emmett right this second.

There’s something special about Nick that I can’t deny, and his little girl stealing a piece of my heart isn’t making this any easier. The song “Love The One You’re With” pops in my head, and I hum it while I finish getting ready for our date.

I’m not a shallow woman and I’ve never been a two-timer, but these men happened to show up in my life at exactly the same time after years of dating countless losers. I know I’ll have to make a choice eventually, but right now I don’t want to risk losing either one of them.

Emmett is my red-hot, dirty-mouthed sexter, but Nick is the one who makes my heart skip a beat every time he enters the room.

Nick is three-dimensional, and so far Emmett and I are only words on a screen. It’s unfair to compare the two when Nick has the upper hand, but part of me wants him to have it.

With my hair almost dry and the front pinned up into two fifties style curls, I pad back into the guest bedroom. Thankfully I threw a white bohemian linen jumper in my bag at the last minute or I’d be wearing cut-offs and a t-shirt to dinner.

I check my makeup and slip on a pair of black Converse because I'm not in the mood for heels tonight, then make my way downstairs to find Nick and Scarlet.

When I round the corner into the kitchen, I’m greeted by a long, low whistle. “You look amazing.” Nick is sitting on a stool at the island dressed in khakis and a body-hugging Henley that accentuates every muscle of his shoulders and torso. Sauntering over to the island, I toss a little extra sway in my hips and soak up his compliment.

I lean my hip against the counter and drag my hand down his bicep that is straining against the short sleeve of his shirt the way I saw that trashy girl do at the bonfire. “You’re not so bad yourself there, Papa Bear.”

He points his finger at me with a playful look of warning on his face. “No, just no.”

I laugh and grab his finger. He takes advantage of my proximity and pulls me in next to him.

“I like this.” He softly touches one of my pin curls.

“Thanks.”

“You have a quirky sense of style. I never quite know what to expect.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“Oh, good for sure. I love surprises, and you seem to have one after another.”

“After another,” I say with a wink.

“Where’s Scarlet?”

“She’s in the theater room with Ben. He showed up, so I told my mom she was off the hook. She’s been taking her a lot since Mimi hurt her foot. I don’t want to wear out our welcome.”

“You can’t wear out your welcome with your parents. They’re stuck with you no matter what.”

“I guess you’re right. Shall we go?”

“Yep, lead the way.”

He loops his arm through mine and leads me to the front door.

“Isn’t the garage that way?” I hitch my thumb toward the side of the house.

“I called for a driver. I want to be able to focus all of my attention on you tonight.”

“Aw, aren’t you sweet. Are you sure it’s not because you plan on getting rip-roaring drunk with the firefighters?”

I place my hand palm down on his chest and give him an I-know-what-you’re-up-to look.

“Uh-uh, no way. I don’t do public drunkenness anymore. I tried it a few times when I was younger, but things never worked out well. Mariah threatened to hang me by the balls if I didn’t quit.”

“I think I would have liked your wife.”

“Me too, she would have loved your unusual sense of fashion. She loved to design homes for other creative people.”

He thinks I’m unusual. Could be worse.

“And I could have taken a picture of her to hang in my gorgeously designed home.”

“Maybe in our next life. Hey, do you want to bring your camera? You never know when there will be something beautiful.”

“Really? You sure? It’s like taking a third person; she needs her own seatbelt and everything.”

“She?”

“Yeah, I named her Flash.”

One corner of his mouth lifts in a smirk.

“Like the superhero?”

“No, but now that you say that, I could have.”

He lowers his head to my waist. “Who do you have down there today?”

“Nobody.”

“Oh yeah? So no superhero or no, nothing?”

“You’ll find out later,” I sing.

“Oh no, I’ll find out right now.” He slips his hands around my waist and pulls me into his arms, sliding his hands down the thin material covering my ass.

“Mmm, nothing.” He moans and pushes his hips against me.

“You sure you want to go to this dinner party? I could take you upstairs and feed you dinner in bed.”

His cock is thick and heavy against my belly. Emmett's sexting left me craving the feeling of real live flesh against mine. Nick’s offer is tempting, but I’ll have to hold out until later for Bridgette’s sake. I can’t bail on her like that, and Blake would be devastated if Nick was a no-show. I'm sure he's been bragging to his friends all day about having a celebrity at his party.

“Tempting, but nope. We have to go.” I turn in his arms and make to walk away, but he doesn’t release me.

With my back to his front, he kisses the side of my neck. The prickle of his five o’clock stubble on my skin sends shivers up my spine, and the smell of his exotic woodsy cologne weakens my formerly solid resolve. He bends his knees to slide his hands down the front of my thighs, and I rest my head against his chest, offering him better access to the curve of my neck.

My jumper is an off the shoulder shift that he takes full advantage of, kissing and nipping a trail along my shoulder. His hands move inward, and he lifts the flimsy material of my shorts to touch me. He's more than pleased to find me pantyless and recently waxed, and he buries his face into the crook of my neck.

“Fuck, Téa. I want you so much right now. Please let me take you upstairs, we can be fashionably late. Celebrities do it all the time.”

I hesitate, and he cups my mound, slipping two fingers between my hot, wet folds.

“Oh God, Nick,” I gasp.

“That’s my girl. You don’t want to go to a party now, do you? Stay here with me.” He repeats the word stay in his smooth, seductive voice, moving his fingers in sync up and down my crease. My heart is pounding and my breath is coming in short pants. My lips fall open to say “Yes, God. Please take me, take me wherever you want” when the doorbell rings, snapping me out of his trance.

We jump at the sound and the bell echoes throughout the house. I step out of his arms and take a deep cleansing breath. He almost made me come right here in his foyer with Ben and Scarlet right downstairs.

I point my finger at him. “You. You’re like, like a sexual hypnotist or something.”

He shrugs and shoves his hands into his front pockets. “When I see something beautiful, I have to capture it. You use your camera. I use words. It's essentially the same thing.”

“It certainly is not. My pictures don’t lead people to the edge of orgasm.”

“I’ll bet they could if you wanted them to.”

He has a point. The doorbell rings again.

“We should go before Scarlet finds us and throws a fit because she’s not allowed to come.”

He places his hand on the small of my back and leads me to the door. When he opens it, there is a short, stout man with a nicely trimmed full beard waiting with a car to take us to Bridgette’s.

“Hey Cap, how are ya? This is my good friend, Téa.”

“Nice to meet you, Téa. I’m doing well, sir, thank you for asking. Are you ready to go?”

Nick hesitates and looks at me with pleading eyes. I nod my head once firmly. “Yes, we’re ready. Let me get you the address.”

Nick sighs and I show my phone to Cap, who memorizes it and leads us to the sleek black Town Car. He opens the door, and I slide across the buttery soft leather seat followed by Nick.

When the door closes, I ask him about the driver's unique name.

“Do you know the driver?”

“Yeah, most people call him Captain, but the guys on the team call him Cap. He’s a sort of chaperone for rookies. He drives them around at night, keeping an eye on them and making sure they don’t drink and drive or get into any big-time trouble. He helps me out once in a while.”

Cap enters the car and catches Nick’s eyes in the rearview mirror.

“All set?”

“Yes, let’s get this over with.”

Cap’s eyebrows shoot up, and I look at Nick with wide eyes and my mouth hanging open.

“Wow, unenthusiastic much? I’m glad you’re looking forward to our date.”

He threads his fingers with mine on the seat between us.

“I’m looking forward to the second part of our date more than the first. I’ll endure the dinner party as long as you promise me dessert.”

Cap starts the car and drives toward the street as if he’s heard nothing.

“You’re bad.”

“You love it.”

And he’s right, I do. I really do.