Crash Into Me (13 page)

I
waited for him to say something, but he just stared vacantly at me and
proceeded to begin typing on his laptop. If he had any thoughts on what had
happened to the flowers, he wasn't saying and I wasn't asking.

Rebuffing
Rogers' offer to wash my clothes, I loaded up the machine and returned to my
room. While my laundry did its thing in the washer, I checked my email and
found a message from Jordan. All she'd typed was a link so I clicked it,
looking forward to some cute pictures of kittens or even some lame chain
letter. Anything to take my mind off Tristan.

As
the page opened, I sat stunned at what appeared on my laptop's screen. There he
stood in his tux looking like he was some marble statue of himself, a blonde on
his arm, and other beautiful people around him at some event. I read the
caption, needing to know what he'd done the night before.

"Stone
Worldwide Charity Benefit at the Fairview Grand Hotel"

My
heart sank at the sight of him holding the woman's arm. Some gorgeous blond
woman's arm. I couldn't take my eyes off the screen, first analyzing every last
inch of his date and then fixating on him. Her hair was the pale color blonde
that appeared naturally on Scandinavian women and for a price on anyone who
could afford a Fifth Avenue salon. I couldn't tell what color her eyes were,
but I was sure any description of them would include the word sparkling.
Perfect, brilliant white teeth sat in a mouth with bee stung lips that made me
think of those bright red wax lips I used to buy at the candy store as a child.
Worst of all, she looked genuinely happy and at home on his arm as they posed
for the camera.

He
looked less comfortable, which at least was one saving grace. In fact, he
looked just as he had in the last picture Jordan had shown me of him on the
gossip page and the ones I'd seen of him online back at the apartment. His eyes
were cold, and that smile that never failed to melt my heart was nowhere to be
found. He was just as gorgeous as always, but he seemed like a shell of the
person I'd grown to know.

I
so wanted that to make me feel better, but it was fleeting and it didn't take
long before that horrible feeling like someone had carved out my insides was back.
He'd left me behind to go to some charity event with some blonde bombshell, and
there was no denying that. The proof was sitting on my laptop screen staring at
me, mocking me.

Closing
the tab, I hung my head and willed the tears to come. At least if I cried there
was a chance I'd feel better eventually. Crying was useful for that. But
nothing came. My emotions were telling my eyes that it was time to do the
crying thing, but they didn't seem to get the message. They simply continued to
stare at the screen, as if something was going to pop up to make all the
emptiness I felt go away.

It
was no use. I officially felt like shit and had the photographic evidence to
prove that the man who I'd thought was my boyfriend was actually someone who
didn't care for me enough to take me to his fancy society function so he'd
found a gorgeous woman to go in my place.

And
it wasn't even noon yet.

I
checked my email once more with the hope that maybe Alex had sent me a message.
At moments when a girl felt like nobody loved her, it was always nice to hear
from a guy who liked her, even if she wasn't crazy about him. I didn't dislike
Alex, but I wasn't really interested in him either. For what it was worth, he
was beginning to look like a very good prospect after the whole Tristan thing,
though. There was something to be said for a man who was straightforward.

Alex
hadn't sent anything, but just as I went to close my laptop, I saw an email
come in from Tristan with the subject "Hi." Unsure I wanted to know
what it said but unable to stop myself, I opened it and began to read.

Dear
Nina,

I'm
looking forward to our trip to Dallas tomorrow. If you'd like to talk about it,
I'll be back at five. Rogers hung your picture up this morning. It's perfect
and exactly what I want to see when I open my eyes.

                                                                             Love,

                                                                             Tristan

Love,
Tristan. It should have read as a command, Love Tristan, since that was what it
seemed like. I closed my laptop and decided then and there I wouldn't be
available to talk at five or any other time that day.

I'd
made the decision to go down this path and I was damned if I was going to be
swayed from it by his soulful eyes, sweet words, and every other weapon in his
arsenal of seduction. If I wasn't good enough to be seen with in public, then
he wasn't going to see much of me in private either.

Chapter Twelve

It's
amazing how being stubborn always made situations so much worse. I quickly
found that I was playing in a much bigger league with Tristan than I was used
to. After avoiding him all the previous day, if I was thinking that a new day
would make everything better, I was sadly mistaken. It seemed that Tristan
Stone could be very much the personification of his last name at times and
quite able to deal out the silent treatment as well as he took it.

Unfortunately
for me, I was more big talk than anything else and the plane ride in his
private jet nearly broke my resolve. I'd only been on a plane twice before and
never anyone's private jet, so my excitement made the words want to come
bubbling up out of my mouth. What stopped them was Tristan's icy demeanor as he
sat across from me, only rarely acknowledging my presence with a knowing look
and never saying a thing to me the entire three and a half hours it took to get
from New York to Dallas.

If
I hated the feeling I'd had that night when he'd left to go to the charity
benefit, I hated this more. It was like torture to be so close to him and know
that he could basically ignore me even as I sat less than three feet away.

He
even did the silent treatment well. I sat there across from him admiring how
good he looked and wondered if there anything this guy wasn't incredible at.

By
the time we arrived at the hotel, I was chomping at the bit to say something,
anything, but his hard expression made it clear he didn't feel the same urge.
So I remained silent.

The
Richmont Dallas was every bit as luxurious as Tristan's New York hotel, even if
it had a more distinctly western feel to it. I had no idea what suite I'd be
working in and followed his lead as we made our way to the rooms on the ninth
floor. When he finally stopped at a door at the end of the hallway, I hoped
that now I could at least get lost in work.

Two
steps in and I understood his joke from the restaurant. Whoever had designed
the Presidential Suite at the Richmont Dallas had been in love with the color
gold and all its varied golden hues. From the draperies to the upholstery to
the carpet, the color gold was everywhere.

"Golden
opportunity," I mumbled accidentally. "Funny guy."

I
realized I'd broken my silence and turned to see him smiling at me. There was
that warm smile that had a way of breaking down the walls I'd tried so hard to
build around my heart. It went all the way up to his eyes, making the skin
around them crinkle slightly at the corners.

"I
have faith in you, Nina. All you have to do is find art that will make this
room appear less gold."

Looking
around, I wondered if he'd given me an impossible task. "Wouldn't it just
be easier to redecorate?"

His
smile grew wider. "Probably, but then I wouldn't have had any reason to
bring you here to Dallas."

And
with that he rendered me speechless again. I didn't want to be a slave to his
charms. I just didn't have a choice.

Swallowing
hard, I tried to keep myself all business. "Must I keep to any particular
style or period?"

He
shook his head. "No. Make your choices based on what you believe will
complete this suite and take the attention away from all this gold."

"How
many pieces can I choose? This suite is four rooms."

Tristan
scanned the rooms in front of us. "As many as you like. My faith is
entirely in you."

"Will
we be staying here? There are two bedrooms, I see."

He
moved around me and walked over to the bar. Pouring himself a drink, he lifted
his glass in the direction of the two bedrooms. "So we're to continue our
living arrangements from the house?"

His
voice had an edge to it. He was unhappy about my insistence on making him
understand how much he'd hurt me. I imagined he didn't have many people in his
life who dared to do that. I also sensed he wasn't a man who liked being made
to do anything.

"I
better get going. I've got my work cut out for me," I said with a forced
smile.

Tristan
took a sip of his scotch. "Dinner is at six, Nina. I hope I'll see you
there."

Nothing
in the way he said that told me he hoped anything. It was a clear command that
I join him for dinner. What wasn't clear was if I'd obey.

Just
a few hours later, I'd found some great pieces and was hungry, despite my
wishing I wasn't. Tristan hadn't bothered me while I'd worked, but now as six
o'clock loomed, I heard him in the outside room pouring himself another drink.
The aroma of the dinner he'd ordered in wafted through to where I stood looking
at myself in the mirror.

I
would have known that delicious smell anywhere. He'd ordered roast beef.

A
peace offering?

I
stared into the mirror at the face that looked back at me and asked her,
"What do I do? Do I let him back in?"

My
reflection didn't have the answer either, and I walked out to find Tristan
standing in the middle of the main room in a tux. My heart sank. He was going
to do it again. I'd sit there alone in that room eating my roast beef he'd so
graciously given me while he spent the night out on the town in Dallas with
another gorgeous blonde or brunette.

Before
I could say all the terrible things that were begging to be let out of my
mouth, he took my hand and kissed the back of it. "I seem to be a little
overdressed. Perhaps you should change so I'm not all alone in this
getup."

"Why?
So you can go meet up with your blond girlfriend and I can sit here like some
teenage girl stood up for the prom?" I snapped.

"Blonde?"
he asked, looking genuinely confused as to how I knew who he'd spent his time
with the night before.

"I
saw your girlfriend. Nice lips. Does she mind that you look like a statue when
you're with her? I think I have it all figured out, Tristan. You want someone
who looks like her for in public, but you want someone who makes you smile like
I do in private. Well, sorry. Maybe you should figure out how you can make her
do the things that make you happy because I won't be some in-house concubine
you keep hidden from everyone but your fucking butler and other household
help."

My
outburst surprised him for a moment, but then he just smiled. "Oh, you
mean Janelle. You misunderstand. She's not my girlfriend. She's paid to be with
me at those affairs."

"Paid?
You pay a hooker to go with you instead of taking me? And this is supposed to
make me feel better?"

A
look of distaste crossed his features. "No. She's not a hooker. She's
a..."

Waving
my hand, I cut him off. "Fine. You're too wealthy for a hooker. What do
they call them for someone like you? Call girls? Escorts? Either way, it's
still you paying someone to be there instead of being seen with me."

"Nina,
you've got it all wrong. She's not there to have sex with or even to date.
She's there to act."

"Act?
What do you mean, act?" I asked, completely baffled.

"Janelle
is an actress who's an employee of mine. My company compensates her to appear
at functions like the charity event and act like my girlfriend. There are about
half a dozen who I pay very well to pretend I'm with them. Their entire job is
to be at my beck and call so I don't have to attend those things alone. I can't
imagine it's that bad a job, especially since I pay them handsomely."

I
sat down on the chair nearby and struggled to process what he was saying. Who
hired people to act like their dates? Jordan was right. Wealthy people did hire
people to do their work for them.

"Why
not just have a real girlfriend and take her? Is it because I'm not stunning
like them?" I hadn't meant to sound so pathetic, but the words had come
out far sadder than intended.

He
knelt down in front of me and took my hands in his. "I don't take real
girlfriends to those things because the press is always there and I learned my
lesson a long time ago. It doesn't take long before having to be in front of
cameras all the time takes its toll on a relationship. The board of directors
likes me to present a successful image, and to them that means having a woman
on my arm at all official events."

"Oh.
So they aren't even ex-girlfriends?"

Smiling,
he said, "No. Just actresses who agree to act like my girlfriends for a
lot of money." He leaned forward and kissed me softly on the lips before
he whispered, "You are stunning, Nina. And unlike those women, I want to
be with you."

 I
couldn't stop the smile that broke out on my face. His words made me want to
beam with happiness. "I don't know if you know this, but it's pretty obvious
you don't want to be with them in all the pictures. You look like a really
miserable boyfriend to those women. I'm not sure anyone's believing that you
really like them."

"Maybe
I should look happier? I could pretend better, I guess," he said with fake
sincerity.

"No,
no. You're doing a great job. Leave the acting up to the professionals," I
joked.

He
kissed me again, making my stomach do flips as his tongue slid across my lower
lip. "I couldn't pretend to like them more than I do anyway."

"I
think I feel bad for them now, Tristan. I know what it's like to work for you.
To not even get a smile would make the job awful."

Looking
up at me with his soulful eyes, he said, "I save my smiles for you. I hope
what I've ordered for dinner means you'll give me one. It's roast beef, one of
your favorites, if I'm not mistaken."

"It
is, but you know that."

"Of
course. Let's eat and then see what Dallas has to offer," he said as he
stood and we walked toward the table.

"I've
never been here, so I'm a newbie in the Lone Star state," I joked, trying
to sound clever.

"Hmm,
a virgin. I promise I'll go easy."

I
sat down across from him and giggled. "Was that a joke?"

He
leveled his gaze on me, looking sexier than a man ever should. "It happens
sometimes."

As
I reached for a piece of roast beef, I said, "I like it."

Tristan
licked his lips and grinned at me. "I'll keep that in mind."

We
visited Fountain Place, a beautiful park with lit fountains and pathways where
we walked and talked about the gold rooms and what I thought might work to take
the focus off the overwhelming use of the color. Tristan listened to each idea
as if he were truly interested, but I had the sense that I could have been
talking about any topic and he'd have been happy. Just as when we'd gone for the
ride in his car that first night, I had the feeling he simply wanted company.

He
stopped and sat on one of the benches near one of the streams, holding his hand
out for me to join him. As we watched the water slowly move by and the
fountains leap in the air, he put his arm around me and I leaned against him.
It was a very common gesture but strangely unique between us. For as long as we
sat there, I felt like we were moving toward something familiar I could relate
to.

When
we returned from our walk, he left to attend to some business calls that had
come in while we were enjoying our time together. I sat on the sofa in the
living room and stared at the gold all around me, mulling over my ideas for how
to fix his art problem. Slowly, my mind drifted to the sleeping arrangements
and the two bedrooms in the suite.

Should
I go back to the way it had been before, now that I knew he wasn't spending his
time with other women at those events? Maybe it was better if we kept sex out
of our relationship for a while since it only seemed to muddy the waters
between us.

I
closed my eyes and thought about Tristan in his tux kneeling in front of me.
Who was I kidding? My physical attraction to him had been so intertwined with
what I felt for him from the moment I'd first seen him that the mere thought of
denying how he affected me was laughable.

The
man himself came back and interrupted my deep thoughts about not having sex
with him, and I quickly knew it was not going to happen. He sat down next to me
and leaned back against the sofa. Loosening his bow tie, he let the two ends
hang around his neck and undid his top button.

Closing
his eyes, he whispered, "Is it ever possible to atone for the sins of the
past?"

I
watched his mouth turn down in a scowl that marred his handsome face and
wondered what his statement referred to. It sounded far too serious to be about
the misunderstanding between the two of us, but I didn't feel comfortable
asking any questions.

Reaching
out, I lightly ran my fingertips over his closely cut brown hair, loving its
softness against my skin. Seeing him like this bothered me, made me want to fix
whatever was wrong, but he kept it inside him, locked away from where I could
reach it.

His
eyes still closed, he pulled me onto his lap and held me close. We sat
together, our bodies pressed against one another, without saying a thing. It
wasn't sexual but simple closeness. It was sweet solitude, and I wanted to
believe for those moments I was able to give him some respite from what
troubled him. When he finally spoke again, any trace of what had bothered him
was gone, and he was the Tristan who could seduce me with just a few words or a
glance from those beautiful eyes.

Cradling
my face in his hands, he said in a voice full of emotion, "Nina, I want
you in my bed tonight and every night. I don't know if things should be moving
so fast or where we'll be in the future, but I don't want to spend another
night without you."

I
stared into his eyes and saw that flicker of apprehension I'd seen before. Did
he actually fear that I'd deny him what I so desperately wanted myself?

I
kissed his lips tenderly and sensed his desire grow inside him as he responded
to my unspoken answer to be his with a kiss so passionate it nearly took my
breath away. Pulling my body to his, he moaned into my mouth a sound so full of
need that it sent an ache to the deepest part of me.  I wanted to be the one to
fulfill that need.