It also alerted her to the fact that she was no longer dreaming.
Ben!
Her eyes flew open and she took in the white cafe table and wicker chairs set beneath the three windows that framed a gorgeous ocean view and an incredible morning sky. She wasn’t home. She was in Martha’s Vineyard. The memories came roaring into her consciousness: everything that had happened with Tinsley, the stress of her work situation, her fellowship being in jeopardy, her motion sickness. It had finally caught up with her. After her conversation with Ben, she’d taken a couple of aspirin before lying down. She vaguely remembered him coming back and urging her to change into PJs, put on her hair scarf, and brush her teeth before she once again gave in to the sleep her body seemed to desperately need.
Sleep and other things. With Ben. In a bed.
She’d been grinding against Ben! What was wrong with her? What had happened to all of her self-talk of keeping her hands to herself and their friendship intact?
With the speed, if not the gracefulness, of a Hollywood stuntwoman, she threw the coverlet off and rolled across the wide mattress until her feet landed on the hardwood floor.
“I said we could share the bed. I didn’t say you could cuddle!”
Ben shifted up onto his elbow, brown hair tousled over his brow. He nodded at the bed. “Um, I’m on my side.”
Embarrassment toasted her cheeks. Ben was still on the far end of the mattress. She’d been the one who’d broken the treaty and crossed the invisible wall of Jericho.
Shit.
She crossed her arms over her chest, shifted on her foot, and huffed out a breath skyward. “Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Ben said, sitting up and yawning.
He stretched his arms over his head and the blanket fell to his waist. Her already dry morning mouth went sub-Saharan.
Had she never seen Ben with his shirt off? No, she hadn’t. Good Lord, why had she been denied such a sight? She’d known he was in good shape; he had a membership at a downtown gym and he ran several times a week. She’d assumed he was more on the wiry side. But damn! Clearly defined deltoids, pectorals, biceps, abs, and obliques, he was leanly muscled, not bulky. Like a sexy hand-drawn diagram from her human anatomy textbook come to life. But with skin. Lots and lots of tanned, lickable skin.
When exactly did he find the time for that body? Because all of that didn’t come from just eating right. It was hard work. The results suggested he’d devoted all of his waking hours to achieving his goal.
She’d gladly dedicate all of her waking hours to appreciating it.
“Give me a minute and I’ll grab you some coffee,” he said, apparently unaware of the internal upheaval he was causing her. “I know you’re practically catatonic without it.”
He was right. She hadn’t had her coffee. Try informing her body of that fact. Her heart raced and she was alert and focused.
On him.
“Thanks. I—”
Nic broke off as Ben swung his legs over the side of the bed.
“I’m going to take a quick shower,” she screeched, hurrying into the adjoining bathroom and slamming the door behind her, but not before she saw the confused look he gave her over his shoulder.
Nic stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her green eyes glittered, a flush reddened her cheeks, and she was breathing heavily through parted lips. She looked like she was still experiencing remnants of motion sickness . . . or she wanted to fuck.
What is wrong with you?
She wasn’t some bashful, demure woman prone to fits and giggles at the sight of a naked man. She’d seen more than her fair share of nude male bodies, and usually viewed them with the same dispassion she reserved for an arm, elbow, or ankle. Not for titillation, but for diagnosing a problem or as a means of ensuring the part worked properly.
But when Ben had moved to stand, she’d been overcome with this urge of self-preservation. For three years, and a host of reasons, she’d carefully crafted a barrier to prohibit any thoughts of them as anything other than friends. Doing so had enabled her to allow him into her life in a way that no one, save her mother or the Ladies of Lefevre, ever had. Certainly no man. But since the day of her initial encounter with Whitaker, every interaction between them had been like picking at a loose thread on a cable-knit sweater. And now, the mental obstruction she’d erected was on the verge of falling apart.
Get ahold of yourself!
Ben was one of her best friends. There was no way she was going to risk that. Especially with her fellowship on the line. She’d already received two calls from Duke Medical School but she hadn’t answered them, petrified it was Dr. Newman attempting to revoke his offer. She needed Ben to ask his family to intervene on her behalf. And for doing so, she’d vowed to help him keep Tinsley at bay. There was nothing more important to either of them than that mission.
And even if their mutual favors weren’t their immediate goal, they both wanted different things from their significant others. As much as she cared for Ben, she wasn’t giving up her career for anyone, and he’d made it clear he’d expect nothing less from the woman who would share his life. She needed to keep that one essential fact in her mind.
And keep his body out of it.
When she eventually emerged from the bathroom, she found a note on the dresser.
“Coffee is waiting for you downstairs.”
Moving quickly, she dressed in a navy blue floral romper, pulled her silk scarf off, spritzed her hair with a leave-in conditioner, and shook out her curls until they puffed up and floated to her shoulders.
And so it begins . . .
She took a deep breath and left the bedroom. The many windows on the upper floor allowed the bright sunlight in and provided a solar path she followed down the wide landing. It was a beautiful home, warm and welcoming despite its size. Her fingers skimmed along the banister as she descended the stairs, but the sound of laughter, like fingernails on a chalkboard, halted her midstep.
“Benji, you’re exaggerating. We had some great times!”
Nic rolled her eyes. What was up with this “Benji” thing? He was a grown man, not a dog!
And she knew how much of a grown man he was.
What if I start with my hands? Gently cover your breasts, then press them hard against you, as your nipples pebble against my palms?
The pleasure from reading the texts blended with the feel of his hands on her this morning, resulting in a sensory overload. She placed her palms on her face and willed herself to calm down. To be believable as Ben’s girlfriend was going to require showcasing some intimacy between them, more than she’d anticipated considering Tinsley’s resistance to the idea. Nic couldn’t be effective if she got flustered each time they touched each other.
Stopping on the split landing, she surveyed the scene below her.
Ben and Tinsley were the only ones in the great room. Ben leaned back against the kitchen counter, cradling a cup of coffee in his hands, a plain white T-shirt covering his glorious chest. Tinsley faced him—her back to Nic—wearing a short teal satin robe, her long pale legs bare.
“I never said we didn’t.” Ben scratched his cheek. “But toward the end, you made it clear they were few and far between.”
“I was young. What did I know? But I’ve grown since then,” Tinsley said, sliding a hand through her blond mane and pulling it forward over her shoulder.
Nice move, Nic begrudgingly allowed.
“Why did you make that comment to Nic last night?” Ben asked.
Nic’s breath caught in her throat and her fingers clenched the railing. She didn’t need him to get into the specifics of that statement. She’d handled it.
Tinsley huffed out a breath, fluttering a lock of her hair. “I don’t want to talk about her.”
“I don’t give a shit. You couldn’t stop talking last night.”
Wow, he was angry. He hadn’t moved from his position, but he’d narrowed his eyes and his voice had changed. Hardened. It was always sta
rtling to experience, since he rarely exhibited that emotion around her.
“Hello, all!” Bronwen strolled in, wearing cut-off jean shorts and a purple tank top, her dark hair pulled into a ponytail. “You’re up early, Tinns. I can’t recall the last time you emerged from your room before ten.”
“That’s what I said.” Some of the tension seemed to escape Ben’s posture. He took a sip of his coffee and Bronwen squeezed his shoulder as she passed him on her way to the coffee machine. “She used to always complain that I got up too early and disturbed her.”
Tinsley pivoted away from Ben and mimicked his stance against the counter. “Why does everyone insist on bringing up stuff from the past?”
“I asked you about last night,” Ben said.
“Yes, like I said. The past. Besides”—Tinsley shrugged one shoulder—“I only wanted to spend a little more time with you in bed.”
Cuddling like Nic and Ben had this morning? More, probably.
Not wanting to get caught eavesdropping, and knowing she’d already pushed her luck, she pasted a smile on her lips. Time to get this show on the road.
“Good morning,” she said brightly.
Ben straightened and set his cup down. He met her as she descended the last step. “You feeling better?”
Was he asking about her motion sickness or her massive freak-out from before? She stared up at him, struck by the masculine beauty of his face. Why had she ever thought him safe? With his tousled hair and lean, scruffy cheeks, he looked downright dangerous.
Mesmerized by him, she nodded.
He smiled. “Good.”
Here we go . . .
She curved a hand around the nape of his neck and drew his head down to brush her lips against his. The kiss lasted only a moment, but it was long enough to do some serious damage to her composure. She pulled away and their eyes opened at the same time. They gazed at each other for one heart-stopping, world-erasing moment, before she released him, letting her arm fall to her side.
“Very good,” she whispered. “That was really believable.”
Ben blinked and his expression closed. “Thanks. Now, let’s get you some coffee.”
She preceded him into the kitchen where its two occupants were watching her with curiosity-tinged expressions from the opposite ends of the welcoming spectrum.
“How did you sleep?” Bronwen asked.
Nic slid a sidelong glance at Ben. “I don’t know. How did I?”
Coming over behind her, he placed a hand on her hip and nuzzled her neck. “Very well,” he murmured, in a tone that turned her insides to mush.
It’s only pretend. It’s only pretend. It’s only pretend.
“I think I threw up a little in my mouth,” Tinsley said, rolling her eyes.
“Oh hello, Tinsley. How are you?”
No matter how she personally felt about Tinsley, the only way to handle a woman like her was to act as if she wasn’t bothered by her. Tinsley would feed off the misery she caused and see it as her way in with Ben.
“Just peachy. Ben and I got up early and spent some private time catching up.”
Nic smiled blandly, not wanting to spend the entire day verbally sparring with the other woman. “I’m glad.”
“I was thinking. Nic is so masculine. I’m going to call you Nicole. You don’t mind, do you?”
Mind you disrespecting me by calling me something that isn’t my preference?
So much for avoiding early conflict.
Nic waved an airy hand. “If you don’t mind me calling you one of the many names that come to mind?”
Tinsley narrowed her eyes. “Nic it is.”
“Would you like a cup of coffee?” Bronwen asked.
“I’ve got it, Bron. Thanks,” Ben said.
“But we were in the middle of a conversation.” Tinsley pouted.
He grabbed a mug and poured Nic a cup. “I can multitask.”
“But it was private!”
Nic was surprised Tinsley didn’t stomp her foot.
“Was it?” Nic asked.
Ben brought Nic a cup of coffee. “Just as I promised.”
She almost went boneless. “Bless you.” She blew away the steam and took a sip.
Ben resumed his stance at the counter and pulled Nic into the vee of his legs. He wrapped his arms loosely around her waist. “Never get in the way of Nic and her first cup of coffee. She values it more than Gollum treasured the ring.”
Tinsley laughed loudly and tilted her head. “Benji, that’s not a nice way to describe her. I mean, we all can’t be beautiful early in the morning.”
Nic paused in sipping her coffee and her hand tightened around the mug. Maybe she needed to rethink how she handled the other woman. Although acting this way wasn’t a good look. Did Tinsley really think hiding her bitchery beneath a thin veil of joking was going to win her Ben back? Had she ever known Ben?
Did you?
Nic had known Ben only a few years. These guys had known him most of his life. Maybe Tinsley did know him better than Nic did. After all, she was the one who’d been engaged to him.
“Tinsley,” Ben warned.
“It’s okay,” Nic said, leaning briefly into him. “She was just joking.”
“Exactly. Chill out,” Tinsley said, flipping her hair.
“And as we learned from last night, her jokes aren’t funny.”
Davis strolled into the kitchen yawning. “I’m going to allow it this morning, but once the partying commences, being up this early will be a sin.”
“I heard about Sabine,” Bronwen said, going over to Davis and giving him a hug.
Davis returned the embrace briefly, before pulling loose. “Did someone say coffee?”
“I’ll get it,” Bronwen said, pouring him a cup. “Guys, I’m sorry about last night. My plans were . . . Anyway, I thought we’d keep it easy today. Maybe just hang out at the beach? The chef will come in later to make us lunch and then we’ll head into town for dinner.”
A day at the beach.
Nic looked down at her outfit. “I think I’m a little overdressed.”
Ben smiled and brushed a knuckle against her cheek. “Yeah, but you’re always beautiful, no matter what you wear.”
She admired his tall frame as she watched him walk over to Davis. He had a quiet, confident swagger she found extremely appealing and she suddenly understood why she’d worked so hard to keep him in the friend zone. Her mother was right: he was perfect.
Funny, smart, caring, and handsome.
And looking for a woman who wasn’t a doctor, like his parents.
Turning to help herself to another cup of coffee, she caught Tinsley staring after him, a look of longing on her face. Nic would’ve almost felt bad for her. Almost.
Ah, who was she kidding? She’d never feel bad for the other woman.
It’s too late. You tossed him aside and he’s mine now.
Except he wasn’t hers. And for the first time she found herself questioning the wisdom of that decision.
Chapter Thirteen
With his left hand, Ben tossed the volleyball high in the air, then leaned back with his right and made contact with the leather, sending the ball soaring over the net. On the other side Davis met his serve with a bump, hitting the ball straight upward. Bronwen ran forward and launched herself in the air, smacking the ball with the flat of her hand and spiking it back to their side.
Ben pointed to his teammate. “Palmer, that’s you!”
Palmer dove, kicking up sand, but keeping the ball in play. Ben bumped it, setting it up for Palmer, who leaped in the air and spiked it over the net, where it landed on the sand in a sweet spot between Davis and Bronwen.
“Game!” Ben yelled, high-fiving Palmer. “You two want to go again?”
“With Davis? Hell no.” Bronwen glared at her partner, who stood hunched over with his hands braced above his knees. “Next game, I get my husband back and you take Mr. Hangover!”
“I said ‘a nice and easy game’ o
f volleyball. How was I supposed to know you were expecting Olympic-caliber play?” Davis straightened. “I need a break.”
Palmer looked at his watch. “And I need to make a quick phone call. I’ll be right back.” He slapped Bronwen playfully on the ass and jogged to where he’d left his belongings.
Ben grabbed a bottle of water out of the nearby cooler and drained it, his eyes searching for Nic. It didn’t take long to spot her. Not only because of the red bikini that had actually given him heart palpitations when she’d come downstairs wearing it, but because they were the only six inhabitants in the area. In addition to the six acres on which it sat, the estate boasted over three hundred feet of private beachfront. Loungers, chairs, umbrellas, and coolers were all provided for a perfect day of fun.
He didn’t go to her, needing a bit of distance. He wiped his face with a towel, resettled his shades on his nose, and dropped down onto a beach lounger. His eyes tracked Nic as she and Bronwen walked to the water’s edge, the waves lapping their ankles and calves.
Lucky water.
She’d gathered her curls on top of her head and secured them with a scarf. The red bikini she wore wasn’t the skimpiest, but it made the most of her curves. He honestly didn’t know if he was being rewarded or tortured. That’s why he’d been ready for a game of beach volleyball, hoping the physical exertion would tame his raging hormones. It had worked for a time.
Now they were back.
In truth, he’d been in a constant state of near arousal since he’d awakened this morning to find Nic’s delectable ass grinding against his cock and the slight weight of her breast resting on his arm. At first he’d been sure he was dreaming, since being entwined with Nic in his bed had run on a constant loop in his fantasies all week. When he’d realized he was indeed awake, he couldn’t believe his luck. But he’d needed to make sure she was cognizant, too.
She had been and the fantasy ended.
Which is why he’d been surprised when she’d kissed him on the stairs. It had been too brief, though it had stoked his desire for her, made him crave more.
“Very good. That was really believable.”
She’d been acting. For Tinsley’s sake.
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