The Wife Between Us(22)

“I can’t believe you’re engaged. It seems like we were just hanging out. . . .” He reached over and slowly ran his hand up her bare arm.

Her body responded instantly, even though she pulled her arm away and took a step back.

How predictable that Nick was interested in her again now that she was taken. He’d stopped answering her texts about two minutes after he left the city. He’d always liked a challenge.

“Happily engaged. The wedding is next month.”

Nick’s heavy-lidded eyes appeared amused. “You don’t look like someone who’s about to get married.”

“What does that mean?”

Someone bumped into her from behind, pushing her closer to Nick. He curved an arm around her waist. “You look hot,” he said softly, his lips so close to her ear that the dark stubble on his chin tickled her skin. “The girls in Seattle don’t compare to you.”

She felt a tug in her lower stomach.

“I’ve missed you. Missed us.” His fingers slipped beneath the fabric of her shirt to rest against her lower back. “Remember that rainy Sunday when we stayed in bed all day?”

He smelled like whiskey and she could feel the heat of his taut body through his T-shirt.

The pulsing music and heat of the crowded room made her feel dizzy. A strand of her hair fell into her eyes and Nick smoothed it away.

He bent his head slowly, keeping his eyes locked on hers. “One last kiss? For old times’ sake?”

Nellie arched her back to look up at him and offered him her cheek.

He gently cupped her chin, turned her mouth toward his, and kissed her softly. His tongue grazed her lips and she parted them. He pulled her tightly against him and she let out an involuntary groan.

She hated to admit it even to herself, but although sex with Richard was always good, with Nick, it had been great.

“I can’t.” She pushed him away, breathing harder than when she’d been dancing.

“C’mon, baby.”

She shook her head and walked toward the bar, squeezing between people and flinching as a man’s elbow bumped into her right temple. She stumbled over someone’s foot.

Eventually, she reached Marnie, who flung an arm around her shoulders. “Tequila time?”

Nellie winced. She’d been so busy talking at dinner that she’d only eaten one slice of pizza, and she’d had just a salad for lunch. She felt a little nauseous, and her feet ached from dancing in heels. “Water first.” Her cheeks were burning and she fanned herself with one hand. The bartender nodded, his veil bobbing, and began to fill a tall glass from a spigot.

“Did Richard find you?” Marnie asked.

“What?”

“He’s here. I told him you were dancing.”

Nellie whipped around, scanning the surrounding faces before she finally spotted him across the room.

“Be right back,” she said to Marnie, who was leaning over the bar, clinking a shot glass with the bartender.

“Richard!” Nellie called out. She hurried toward him, slipping on the sticky floor just as she reached him.

“Whoa.” He grabbed her arm to steady her. “Someone’s had a lot to drink.”

“What are you doing here?”

A purple light washed across his face as the band launched into a new song. Nellie couldn’t read Richard’s expression.

“I’m leaving.” He let go of her arm. “Are you coming with me?” He’d seen. She knew by the way he held himself; his body was still, but she could sense energy churning within him.

“Yes. Let me just say good-bye. . . .” She’d last noticed Sam and Josie on the dance floor, but now she couldn’t spot them anywhere.

She glanced back toward Richard and saw he was already headed for the exit. She ran to catch up with him.

He didn’t speak once they were outside—not even after he’d hailed a cab and given the address of his apartment.

“That guy—I used to work with him.”

Richard stared straight ahead so that she was looking at his profile, just as she had on the drive only a few hours earlier. But then his hand had been resting on her thigh; now he sat with his arms folded rigidly across his chest.

“Do you greet all your former colleagues with such enthusiasm?” Richard’s tone was so formal it chilled her.

Nausea rose in her gut as the cabdriver lurched through traffic. She put a hand over her stomach, then pushed the button to roll down her window a few inches. The wind whipped at her hair, slapping it across her cheek.

“Richard, I pushed him away. . . . I didn’t . . .”

He turned and faced her. “You didn’t what?” he asked, enunciating every word again.

“Think,” she whispered. She’d been wrong: He wasn’t furious. He was hurt. “I am so sorry. I walked away from him and I was about to call you.”

That part was a lie, but Richard would never know.

Finally, his face softened. “I could forgive you for just about anything.” She began to reach for his hand. His next words stopped her: “But do not ever cheat on me.”

Even when he’d been on contentious business calls, she’d never heard him sound so absolute.

“I promise,” she whispered. Tears sprang to her eyes. Richard had picked out an exquisite home for her. He’d sent her an email earlier that day asking if she thought their guests would like passed hors d’oeuvres or a buffet at the cocktail reception between the wedding ceremony and the dinner. Or both? he’d written. He’d worried when she hadn’t answered his text—he knew she wouldn’t feel secure entering her dark apartment alone late at night. So he’d come to find her and make sure she was safe.