Bradley’s eyes moved between her and Nick, and though he didn’t look all that surprised at seeing them bickering, his gaze grew hard as he saw Nick’s hand on Taylor’s face.
Nick, naturally, took his sweet time removing it, and she resisted the urge to kick his shin.
“Morning, Bradley,” Taylor said, pleased that her voice sounded calm and friendly. As well it should. She’d had plenty of practice over the better part of a year pretending that she and Bradley were nothing more than colleagues.
Other than a few close friends who knew they were dating, they’d done a mostly decent job of hiding their romantic relationship from co-workers. Better than she and Nick had done hiding their antagonistic one.
“Hey, Taylor. Nick,” Bradley said.
He entered the room and reached for a coffee mug, turning his attention toward the other man. “Didn’t realize you’d taken on another assignment. What for?”
“Not sure,” Nick said, checking his watch. “Have a meeting with Cassidy in a few to find out.”
“Here’s hoping it’s an offsite gig that takes you far, far away. Maybe he needs someone to cover Siberian winters,” Taylor said to Nick, even as she watched Bradley out of the corner of her eye.
“Don’t need to travel to find severe winter. It doesn’t get any chillier than right here,” Nick retorted, waving his hand over her head in a storm cloud gesture.
She shoved his hand aside, her attention still on Bradley, who was determinedly avoiding her gaze.
Coward.
It was going to be darn hard to get him to see reason when he wouldn’t even make eye contact.
Nick, ever too perceptive for his own good, noticed the tension and gave a quick look between her and Bradley, his gaze turning speculative.
She shot him a warning look that clearly said, Don’t.
He shot an answering smile that clearly said, Watch me.
“Bradley, don’t suppose you’re in the market for a roommate?” Nick asked, his voice deceptively casual.
Bradley’s head snapped up, and finally, finally his blue gaze collided with Taylor’s. Damn it. Why did he have to be so beautiful? He was like a mischievous angel, all twinkling blue eyes, dimples, a sexy cleft in his chin, dark blond wavy hair…
“What?” he asked Nick distractedly, still looking at Taylor.
“Taylor here wants to share her original crown molding with someone.”
Bradley winced, and Taylor felt a little surge of gratitude toward Nick. He couldn’t have known it, but it was the perfect jab. She and Bradley were both into prewar architecture—had eaten up the broker’s description of all the building’s original elements.
Taylor should be sharing that crown molding with Bradley. And he damn well knew it.
His eyes met hers in silent misery—an apology that she wasn’t quite ready to accept. Heck, she wasn’t even ready to acknowledge it, because she had no intention of being dumped. Not by him, not by any man.
Taylor ignored the guilt written all over Bradley’s face as she held his gaze. “Yes, it seems I unexpectedly have a free bedroom and more rent than I can afford. If either of you knows anyone looking for a roommate…”
Bradley’s handsome face twisted regretfully, and he set his coffee aside, taking a step toward her, apparently forgetting—or not caring—that Nick was still in the room.
“Taylor. Damn it. I told you—”
“Actually, I do,” Nick said, interrupting.
Taylor forced her gaze away from Bradley’s pleading face toward Nick’s smug one. “You know someone who needs a roommate?”
“Yup.” He crossed his arms and watched her.
She made an impatient gesture with her hand. “Who? It can’t be one of your ex-girlfriends—I don’t want to inadvertently hear any gross details about you. And not one of your frat-boy guy friends—my living room isn’t cut out for Call of Duty.”
“Yeah, because that’s all I do all day.”
She rolled her eyes. “Okay, for real, who is it?”
His grin was slow, sly, and the very definition of trouble. “Me.”
Chapter 3
It was a toss-up who was more shocked by Nick’s pronouncement: Taylor, Bradley, or Nick himself.
Nick sure as hell hadn’t meant to volunteer to shack up with the most aggravating woman he knew. He’d barely survived the suggestion of it; no way would he survive it if she accepted.
Which she wouldn’t.
Taylor Carr’s feelings toward him were the perfect match of his toward her—somewhere between contempt and pure loathing, with a splash of regret that neither acknowledged.
But regardless of how he felt about Taylor, he couldn’t stand Calloway at all. Everything about the account executive rubbed Nick the wrong way. The guy was too smarmy, too slick.
Too cozied up in Taylor’s bed.
And yet Nick was damn curious about what was going on with the two of them.
It was obvious Bradley wanted Taylor to remain roommate-less. What was less obvious was why. Why didn’t the fucker just volunteer to move in with her himself?
They’d been dating for months now, and usually being in the same room with them was unbearable. At least for Nick.
Today, though, something felt different.
The annoying part of him that always seemed to be in tune with Taylor Carr, even when he didn’t want to, sensed that something was amiss in Taylor and Bradley’s obnoxious love affair.
And whatever Bradley wanted from Taylor, it didn’t involve a roommate of any kind. Certainly not a roommate of the Nick Ballantine variety.
So Nick had done what any hot-blooded, troublemaking guy would do.
He’d volunteered.
And it was…awkward.
Taylor was staring at Nick, Bradley was staring at Taylor, and Nick…
Poured himself a cup of coffee, pretending indifference.
“So?” he said to Taylor, lifting the black Oxford mug in a questioning gesture. “What do you say?”
Her gray eyes stared at him in shock. It was refreshing to have her look at him with something other than disdain, but the silence in the room was getting uncomfortable.
Where the hell was the rest of the jock-heavy Oxford team when you needed them? Hell, didn’t editors Lincoln Mathis and Cole Sharpe have a sixth sense for being present for this sort of shit?
“You are not moving in with me,” Taylor finally managed.
“Definitely not,” Bradley agreed, clearly relieved by Taylor’s response. As though his opinion counted.
A mistake. Huge.
Nick took a sip of coffee to hide his grin as Taylor whipped her temper in Bradley’s direction.
For a man who was her co-worker and her lover, Bradley sure didn’t know the woman very well.
Nick didn’t even like Taylor, and he knew that nothing set her off quite like being told what she should or should not do.
“I’m not sure you get a say.”
“Taylor—”
Calloway stepped toward her, and her eyes narrowed in warning.
Nick sighed. Stirring the pot had been fun at first, but the melodrama was getting tiresome. “On second thought, I’ll find a more hospitable home. The subway tracks. Dumpster. Someplace like that.”
He started to retreat, leaving them to their lame lovers’ quarrel, but Taylor reached out, perfectly manicured red nails digging into his forearm. “Don’t you dare renege. Do you really need a place to live?”