“If practicality was my main concern, what’s the point of buying it? I’ve wanted a Lamborghini for a long time. I plan to enjoy it.”
Where Nic had grown up, people couldn’t afford to buy a house for a quarter of that amount. Hell, it would have to feed her, massage her, give her incredible orgasms, and cuddle her to sleep before she’d even consider the possibility of spending even a fifth of that price on a car.
“Alright, Davis, you’re up,” Bronwen said.
Davis reached into the bowl and then rolled his eyes. “Tinsley. Talk about going from high points to low . . .”
“Davis!” Ben sighed.
“Sorry,” he muttered. “Habit.”
Brackets appeared on either side of Tinsley’s mouth. “I never agreed to participate in this game.”
Bronwen shrugged. “Your presence implied your consent.”
Davis pulled a slip of paper from the other bowl. “Number three. What is your pet peeve?”
Tinsley looked down for a moment, tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, then wrote something on the pad.
Davis tapped his index finger against his chin. “Let me see. Decency? No. Hard work? No . . .”
Ben tensed beside her.
Davis snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it. When she makes brunch reservations at Hotel du Mode and they seat her next to the restroom instead of at the chef’s table.”
They laughed and Ben’s posture eased.
Seriously? Nic glared at him from the corner of her eye. Tinsley was a big girl. She didn’t need his protection.
“That’s true,” Tinsley admitted. “If I wanted to smell shit while eating my eggs Benedict, I’d go to a chain restaurant.”
When it was Tinsley’s turn, she was unable to hide her pleasure. “Benji.”
She didn’t seem to mind participating now.
Ben sat up straight. “I’m ready.”
“What’s the one country you’d like to visit? Oh, I know this. It’s—”
Bronwen held out a hand in protest. “You have to wait for him to write it down.”
Tinsley held back several seconds longer. “We’d been dating a year when Ben took me to Paris. We had an amazing time, but we didn’t really get a chance to do as much sightseeing as we’d anticipated.”
Tinsley’s implication was clear from her tone.
Nic pressed her lips together to keep from responding. This woman was trying her. She knew that Tinsley was no longer relevant to what was going on between her and Ben, but she didn’t know how much longer she was going to be able to keep from speaking her piece.
“As we were flying home,” she continued, “he said the one thing he regretted was not visiting the French Riviera. He’d always wanted to go.”
Ben’s brows rose. “That’s right. I had wanted to go during that trip. I’d totally forgotten about that.”
“That’s not what you wrote down,” Nic pointed out, annoyed at him. She tapped her finger on the pad. “This says Indonesia.”
Tinsley curled her lip. “Indonesia? Why would anyone want to go there?”
Ben shrugged. “There are so many islands to explore. I think it would be fun.”
“Whatever. But you said I was right,” Tinsley said. She turned to Bronwen. “I should get a point for that.”
“That’s not how you play the game,” Nic pointed out.
“How would you know?”
“Because Bronwen told us the rules before we started!”
“Her answer was correct, too,” Ben said, in full mediator mode. “She can get the point.”
Suddenly he and Tinsley were rule-busting co-conspirators? Were they playing a game or taking a stroll down memory lane? The former suggested there’d be a winner and a loser and Nic damn sure didn’t play to lose.
“Relax. It’s not a big deal,” Ben whispered in her ear. He kissed her cheek then stood and reached into the bowl. He picked Bronwen. “What’s your perfect meal?”
When Ben laughingly protested there was no use in him guessing because he had no clue, Bronwen held up her pad showing: My nanny’s spaghetti Bolognese.
“It was my favorite growing up. She was from Modena in northern Italy and she’d cook the sauce for hours.” Bronwen’s eyes flickered. “Heaven.”
Bronwen picked Palmer. “That wouldn’t be fair. Nic, you come choose.”
“Gladly.” She hopped up, overcome with a craving to win this game. “Number ten. What sports team would you love to own?”
Looking at Palmer she guessed he might like football or baseball. It was a fifty-fifty shot. And he was from New York, so— “The Giants?”
Palmer grinned. “Ooh, close. The Cowboys.”
“Does she need to repeat the question?” Davis asked. “You hate Dallas.”
“I do. I really do. But she didn’t ask about my favorite team—the Yankees, by the way—she asked which team I’d love to own. And the Dallas Cowboys are the most profitable sports franchise in the world.”
“Boo!” Davis said, lobbing a pillow at Palmer.
Nic threw up her hands. “At least I got the sport right. I almost went with baseball. Since the rules of this game are so flexible, can I get half a point for that?”
She waited a beat.
“Just kidding,” she said, poking her tongue between her teeth.
Not really.
She bumped Davis’s outstretched fist with her own and ignored the look Ben gave her when she sat back down.
After several more questions, where the memories, laughter, and drinks flowed freely and lightened the mood considerably, there was one last slip of paper in each bowl.
Since Nic had just answered a question about the scariest movie she’d ever seen, it was her turn. “Ben. Number one. Your favorite childhood memory?”
Tinsley, whose entitlement had mixed with too many vodka martinis, said, “I know the answer.”
“You’re not a part of this,” Davis said. “This is between Nic and Ben.”
“But she’s not going to know it. It’s that time when you guys sneaked to Boston to see U2 in concert and you got to go backstage and meet the band! Ben flipped out because he got to shake The Edge’s hand. Technically you were teenagers, but it counts, right?”
“Jesus, Tinsley.” Palmer slouched back in his chair.
Bronwen rolled her gaze skyward and exhaled audibly.
“What? I was just helping Nic.”
Ben had met U2. Though she wouldn’t call herself a fan, she knew who they were and liked a few of their songs. Who didn’t? And having the opportunity to meet them would be epic, fan or not. What kind of life would a person have to lead where meeting a member of a world-famous rock band wouldn’t rate as one of their top moments? Probably like the lives they’d all led, with their Lamborghinis and Italian nannies and trips to the French Riviera.
Tinsley’s response made sense. But Nic’s gut screamed another answer, beseeching her to remember an evening of heartfelt confessions after a particularly strained visit with his parents.
She only hoped this wasn’t another answer that he’d “totally forgotten about.”
“When Ben was eight, his appendix almost burst and he needed to have an emergency appendectomy. His parents took a week off of work and stayed with him.”
They’d watched movies, read books, did puzzles, and brain teasers. He’d told her he’d felt like they were a real family.
Ben stared up at her, his dark eyes wide. “I told you about that?”
It seemed he had forgotten.
“A couple of years ago. We were discussing common pediatric surgeries and you mentioned yours. It was a throwaway comment but it stuck with me because it was clear that it was really important to you.”
He held up his pad showing his answer: My parents took off work to be with me after my surgery.
Warmth suffused her body and she smiled slowly. She’d gotten it right. Yes, she could own her pettiness over one-upping Tinsley. But mainly, her pleasure came from showing
Ben that he mattered to her.
He licked his lips and an intense expression stole over his face.
She knew that look.
Her nipples tightened beneath her bra. Her body knew that look.
“That’s an interesting topic,” Bronwen said, gathering the slips of paper and putting them back in one of the bowls. “Not many people would go around discussing surgeries for children.”
“I have a habit of bringing my work home with me,” Nic said absently, her gaze still focused on Ben and his wicked tongue. That man played her pussy like nobody’s business.
“Wait!” Tinsley slammed her palm down on the counter. “Your work home with you? You’re a doctor?”
Nic became aware of the sudden shift in mood. She bit her bottom lip and glanced around. “Yes.”
“And you knew this?” Tinsley asked Ben.
Ben’s jaw tightened. “Yes. Nic is a surgeon. In orthopedics. She’s brilliant.”
The words were perfect, but his tone left a lot to be desired. She wasn’t the only one who noticed. Tinsley’s eyes appeared to gleam and a nasty smirk curved her lips.
“I find that fascinating, considering how much you hate doctors.”
Nic shot a look at Ben. He hated doctors?
She knew he didn’t regard the profession with the same reverence most people did, probably because he’d grown up around them. The public saw doctors as the living embodiment of gods. Unfortunately, a lot of doctors saw themselves that same way. It didn’t always make for humble, likeable beings.
But hate them? Hate who she was? Hate how she’d worked hard to define herself?
“Why does everyone insist on that interpretation?” Ben asked, throwing his hands up. “I don’t hate doctors.”
“Uh-huh,” Bronwen said, eyeing Nic with a frown.
“I guess you really have changed, Benji,” Tinsley said.
Ben crossed his arms over his chest. “Not really.”
“You must have,” Tinsley persisted. “When we were engaged, you were adamant that I make our family my top priority. Correct me if I’m wrong, but surgeon isn’t a nine to five profession.”
“It’s not,” Ben said, his jaw set, “but we’ll make it work.”
“Oh.” Tinsley turned to Nic, a sculpted brow lifted. “So you’re willing to make compromises in your career?”
Compromise her career? The phrase didn’t compute. She wasn’t giving up her career. And she definitely wasn’t going to make decisions to the detriment of her professional growth just to fulfill some patriarchal notion of familial structure.
But how did she answer? If she was playing the role she’d originally agreed to play, she’d smile and answer in the affirmative. However, she and Ben had decided that they were going to explore what was between them, irrespective of Tinsley. And if she were honest and she was asked if she would make concessions in her work, the answer would be simple.
“No.”
Chapter Twenty
Ben closed the bedroom door behind him while Nic strode over to the windows on the far wall. Her displeasure was evident in her stiff stance and crossed arms, even if he hadn’t been able to see her tight expression reflected in the glass.
Well, tough!
She wasn’t the only one upset with the turn of events. After their talk at the lighthouse, he’d felt closer than ever to her. When they’d returned home, he’d let his body express his appreciation. Then she’d shown up on the beach, declaring he needed to wear sunscreen and managing to be very creative in how she applied the lotion. Thorough, too. By the time she was done, his cock had made a tent so large in his trunks they could’ve camped out beneath it. He’d wanted to kill Davis when his friend had interrupted them before he’d had the pleasure of returning the favor . . .
He couldn’t remember enjoying a day more. The rain had finally driven them inside, but it hadn’t dampened their teasing foreplay. There was an electricity between them, charged and hot. It was in the way he’d catch her staring at him, the heat in her gaze that was dampened only by the lowering of her lashes. The constant touches that lit his skin on fire. The way she’d lick or bite her lips whenever he spoke to her. It had all driven him out of his mind.
When she’d remembered his favorite childhood memory, she’d blown him away. She was beautiful, sexy, smart as hell, and funny, but her compassion, especially for those she cared about, often went unnoticed. He hadn’t made a big deal about that memory of his parents. In fact, he barely mentioned it because there were times when he’d convinced himself it had been a dream. That it hadn’t ever really happened. But he’d told Nic and she’d remembered. It had made him want her all the more. He’d pictured their night ending with his head between her thighs and her pulling his hair while she screamed his name.
Her response to Tinsley’s question had altered the mood of the room . . . and the evening. Davis and Palmer had already known about Nic’s profession. But once Bronwen and Tinsley knew, they’d wanted to make it an issue for discussion. Ben’s feelings on the subject of his future wife were too well known for his friends not to question the sustainability of their relationship.
But their concerns weren’t his priority. He needed to talk to Nic.
Ben shoved his hands into the pockets of his shorts. “Really? Just a flat-out no? That was your answer?”
It was an effort to keep his tone measured and calm when his insides churned like ocean storm surges during a hurricane.
Nic didn’t turn around. In the glass her expression hardened further, if that was even possible. “Did you expect me to lie?”
No. And that was the frustrating part. He didn’t want her to lie. He wanted her to actually feel that way. To care enough to consider making concessions if it meant they could be together.
“That answer didn’t do anything to dissuade Tinsley.”
“I don’t give a fuck about her. I thought we’d decided to make these last few days about us?”
She was right, but he wasn’t in the mood to receive it. He’d experienced a bevy of emotions toward Nic. Tenderness, curiosity, amusement, jealousy, frustration, desire.
But anger?
At her and not on her behalf?
That was a new one.
“Can you turn around? I don’t want to have this conversation with your back.”
Exhaling audibly, she turned and faced him, her head tilted with a disconnected look on her face. “Better?”
“Why can’t you make compromises? Why does it have to be your way or the highway?”
“This is who I am. If you don’t like it, we can end it right now. That’s probably what you want anyway.”
“What does that mean?”
“You’re not a stupid man. Don’t pretend that you are!”
He clenched his jaw. “I know how smart I am. If you actually made sense, I’m pretty sure I’d grasp your meaning.”
“Then let me be clear.” She pointed a finger at him. “You’re sending mixed signals. You’re leading her on!”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he laughed, though he knew doing so would annoy her. He was right.
“Really?” She narrowed her eyes and jammed her hands on her hips. “Does Tatiana seem weak and helpless to you?”
His lips quirked, but he resisted. “No.”
“But you certainly enjoyed riding to her rescue.”
“I didn’t ride to—”
“She and Davis don’t get along. That has nothing to do with you, yet you felt the need to jump into their dispute and defend her. Why?”
“He was being an asshole.”
And if left unchecked, Ben knew their comments would get more malicious, leading to an argument none of them wanted to witness. The ugliness would poison the remainder of the trip and affect their time together.
“So was she. And she can handle herself. She’s proved that numerous times this week. But what you did showed her you care.”
“I do care. That didn’t change because I’m no longer in l
ove with her.”
“Oh, she knows you care. She’s unable to keep her comments to herself, but at least she was leaving you alone. Now she’s back to acting like she has a claim on you.”
He waved a hand. “That’s just Tinsley being Tinsley.”
She arched a brow. “Cooing, batting her lashes, and flipping her hair is Tinsley being Tinsley?”
“It’s practically her second language!”
Nic pursed her lips. “Then why doesn’t she act that way around Palmer and Davis?”
“We have a different history.”
Nic’s green eyes flashed and she shook her head. “‘History.’ Yeah, tell yourself whatever you want. But she wants you back and what you did tonight doesn’t do a damn thing to dissuade her. Which is fine. It’s your life. But if you’re going to flip the script, let me in on it!”
“Why do you keep bringing up Tinsley? I’m standing here telling you I’m not interested in her.”
“It’s none of my business. But I want to be clear. I did my part. I held up my end of the bargain. I expect you to do the same.”
Astonished, he staggered back a step. “You think this is about our arrangement?”
For a brief second, her defenses were down and he saw regret color her features. But then she mended the breach. “It is for me.”
“When I told you I wanted to be with you, it had nothing to do with convincing my ex of my disinterest. It was because I wanted you so fucking much I could barely breathe. And neither one of those things played a part in my offering to help you. How many times do I have to say it? I suggested speaking with my parents on your behalf because you were my friend.”
Although nothing about her was being particularly friendly at the moment. He needed to get out of there before he said something he regretted.
“I’ll be back.”
“Where are you going?”
“I need to get some fresh air.”
“Of course. Make sure you tell Tinsley I said good-night.”
“It’ll be my pleasure,” he said, slamming the door behind him, but not before he saw her eyes widen and her chin tremble with hurt.
Goddamn it!
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