by Jeannie Moon
“Well, beautiful?” His voice was like a breeze on a hot summer night. Deep, rich, and full of dirty promises. “What do you say?”
She didn’t even hesitate. “Yes.”
* * *
Tristan sipped a cup of strong coffee thinking about the woman asleep in his bed. He’d had a hell of a time convincing her to stay, but he made sure she was glad she did. It was a good thing they were going to keep things friendly. As much as he liked Leah Bayard—and he really did like her—she was a lot of effort.
Argumentative, with a sharp edge he found quite appealing, Tristan had a grand time watching the woman unravel under his touch. For someone who was so disciplined and controlled, Leah made love with absolute abandon, and it was something he would have enjoyed getting used to.
Considering his move to the States had him getting used to all sorts of new things, a beautiful woman would have been a nice addition to the list. But it made sense to keep things platonic, even if he didn’t like it. Both of them were so wrapped up in work, a complicated relationship wasn’t in the cards. But he found himself thinking about the next time he could see her again. They’d go out as friends, just like they’d been doing for the past two months, but he didn’t have to like it.
Tris sipped his coffee and stared out the kitchen window to the street below. Sunday mornings in the city were dead quiet. A few cars came to a stop at the intersection on the corner of his block, and some intrepid runners were pounding the pavement. He was about to check his phone for the time, when, right on schedule, it rang.
“Good afternoon, Mum.” His mother was nothing if not predictable. Every Sunday, without fail, she’d walk from her cottage to services at the church in their village. Then she’d go to the social after, and before heading home, she and her twin sister would go to lunch at the local café to catch up on gossip and complain about their latest ailments.
After arriving home, she walked her Scottish Terrier, Roland, and then called Tristan at two o’clock on the dot. Since that meant it was nine o’clock in New York, there was no sleeping in on Sunday.
“But it’s only morning by you, my handsome son.”
“True. It’s a splendid day. The leaves are starting to turn.”
“Thank you for the weather report, but if you’re ready to experience the change of seasons, you should get out of the blasted city. I can’t fathom how you stand it.”
“It’s quite nice, if you must know.”
“Bah.” His mother was set in her ways. She’d raised Tristan and his four siblings in their country village. His father had been the headmaster at a small boarding school and his mother was a maths instructor. The family lived in a house on the school grounds and his upbringing was idyllic, but also somewhat isolated. His parents were brilliant people, and had very high standards for their children, but they were homebodies, and Tris and his siblings itched for adventure.
He was the middle, number three of five. Four boys, and then finally his parents had a girl on the fifth try. His two older brothers had opted for military service, his younger brother followed his parents into academia, and his sister was working as a researcher at the British Museum. Tris had broken the mold, studying economics at Oxford and then moving into the world of high finance. It was risky, high pressure, and he loved it. Along the way, he’d picked up his graduate degree, moved five times to different parts of the world, and was a billionaire by age thirty.
His father had passed two years ago after a long illness, and that’s when Tris left the Far East and went back to England. He spent time at home, helping his mother settle into her new cottage, and then moved to London to see where his career might take him next.
He’d wound up with Reliance Software on Long Island, New York, doing some consulting, but things had clicked. Unexpectedly, an opportunity presented itself, and Tris was buying into the business. In a few months he’d be the new CFO and it meant his move to the States was permanent.
His mum was not pleased.
“Tristan? What do you think?”
“I’m sorry.” Damn, he’d drifted off. He was tired. “Say that again?”
“Christmas. Were you listening even the slightest bit?”
“It was a late night. I apologize.”
“Hmmm. Out carousing, I suppose. Maybe you need to come home and find a nice young lady to marry. Then you’ll start keeping human hours.”
“Mum, the work is what it is. Once I assume the partnership in the software company, it might even worsen.”
“I will never understand you. Always about money.”
There was no denying her observation. He did love to make money. And he’d made a lot of it. Something his parents, who had comfortably settled in academia, never worried about because they never needed much. However, when his father passed, how little they’d saved became a real problem. Luckily, Tris could help, but his mother often forgot that the money that she saw as vulgar bought her cottage, paid for his sister’s university tuition, and was going to keep her very nicely in her retirement.
He’d never say that to her. He wasn’t that big a prick. He was happy he could do these things for his family, but every time Mum threw a fit about his dedication to his work, he was tempted to remind her exactly who benefitted from it.
“I will do my best to be home for the holiday. I’ll cancel what I can, and let you know when I can be there.”
She went quiet. “Oh.” There was nothing quite as satisfying as surprising his mother. “Well, that would be lovely. Yes. Good. I’ll be . . . I’ll be very pleased to see you, Tristan.”
“Jesus Christ!” The raspy female voice behind him brought an immediate smile to Tristan’s face. He was fairly certain Leah was going to scold him for not waking her up.
“Why the hell didn’t you wake me?” She didn’t disappoint.
“Who’s that?” Mum asked.
“A friend,” he replied. Damn.
Leah was dashing about the apartment, frantic, her movements not having any rhyme or reason. “Did you take my thong again?” she snapped. “This isn’t funny, Tris. I’m not going home commando.”
Nope, Leah had no idea he was on the phone.
“A friend, is it? Sounds like she has quite a problem.”
“Mum, I’ll call you back in a bit.”
Immediately, Leah’s eyes were trained on him, horror spreading across her face.
“Tristan?” his mother inquired with a chuckle. “Be a gentleman and help the young lady find her knickers. She must be chilly.”
“Right.” This was embarrassing. “Speak to you soon.” He ended the call before she could ask another question. “Sorry about that.”
“Your mother?” She turned away from him and rubbed her hand on the back of her neck.
“She calls every Sunday.”
“Perfect. Well. It’s not like I’m ever going to meet her . . .”
True enough, she probably wouldn’t, but hearing her brush it off like that forced a knot to form in his chest. “Of course, but I still should have let you know she could hear you.”
“Fabulous.” The way she looked down told him Leah, for all her bluster, was modest. “Do you know where my thong ended up this time?”
“Check the chair next to the armoire.”
She left, and he wished he could find a way to keep her here. He really wanted to talk more about . . . well, he wanted to talk to her about everything. He liked spending time with her. When she returned to the room, she was tugging her dress over her hips.
“I can’t believe your mother was on the phone,” she mumbled.
“Hey, you won’t have to field her questions. At least I can tell her you found your knickers.” He was hoping for a laugh for that, but he didn’t get it. Nothing. Not even a raised eyebrow.
“No, I’m going to have to field my own parents’ questions. I�
�m meeting them for brunch at eleven and I’m probably going to be late. I’m never late.”
“Not meeting them for mass, then?” he responded, taking a sip of his coffee. It earned him a cold stare, but the corner of her mouth ticked up slightly. Okay. That was better.
“No. Not mass.” She looked at her distorted reflection in the microwave, messed with her hair, and then spun on him. “I’m barely going to have time to go home and change. But if I don’t I’m going to show up in the same dress they saw me wearing last night.”
Normally, that probably wouldn’t have posed a problem for the lovely redhead, but she and Tristan had left her brother’s house together after dinner, and her parents were well aware of it. She was worried, rightfully, that they’d recognize the emerald-green dress.
And then they would have questions. Many questions.
What he wouldn’t have given to watch Leah squirm.
“Fortunately, you don’t live far.” His Tribeca apartment was about a thirty-minute walk from her place in the West Village. Fine on a nice day, when she wasn’t pressed for time, but considering she was wearing mile-high heels, as well as the cold snap, he was going to get her a car.
“Right.” She grabbed for her purse and headed for the door. “Thanks for . . . ahh . . . for a nice time.”
“Wait.” He grabbed a pullover and slipped his feet in a pair of shoes he’d left in the living room. “I’ll get you a taxi.”
Her hand gripped the doorknob as she glanced back. “I can get my own cab.”
“I know you can.” He opened the door for her. “But I was raised to act like a gentleman. I’ll see you out.”
“It’s not . . .”
He silenced her with the touch of a finger to her lips. “Yes, it is.”
She acquiesced, reluctantly, but Tris enjoyed watching the struggle. This was an independent woman, one who liked control in all things. However, in bed, she melted at his touch, and purred like a kitten. Because she was so assertive, he was shocked when she let him take the lead in bed. He wasn’t complaining, because he couldn’t remember ever having a better time, but he was surprised at the trust she’d put in him.
The elevator in his building was painfully slow, and Leah was leaning against one wall while Tris stood in the middle. She wasn’t looking at him and he couldn’t figure out why.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
“No.” She still didn’t look at him.
“I don’t bite, you know.”
Turning her gaze to him, she grinned ever so slightly. “Actually, you do.”
Now he couldn’t resist. Stepping toward her, Tristan brought her fingers up and lightly grazed his teeth over her knuckles. “Only when the circumstances are right.”
“An elevator is not the right time or place.”
Not wanting to push her, because they were friends, Tristan didn’t know how to tell her he wanted to take her to bed again.
Shit. He needed medication or something. She was driving him crazy.
“I enjoyed being with you, Leah.”
God, he sounded like a pansy.
“It was fun.”
“I’d like to see you again,” he ventured cautiously.
She cocked her head to the side. “Well, I’ll see you Tuesday. When we usually meet for burgers.”
She was right, of course. How was he going to do this?
“I thought maybe we could change it up. I could take you out someplace nicer than the diner.” This wasn’t going to go well.
“Aren’t you supposed to buy me an expensive dinner before we have sex?” She waggled her finger at him. “You’re slipping.”
In a quick move, Tristan pulled her away from the wall, and when he tucked her into his side, he saw the tough attorney soften once again. “No need to be flip with me. I’m not looking for strings, but I don’t see any reason we can’t do something different.”
She hadn’t looked at him, instead focusing her eyes at their joined hands. “I like the way things are. Why change?”
“Think about it.”
Everything he’d heard about her said she was a loner by nature. He could see how her abrupt style could put people off, but he found her wickedly funny and her sharp wit kept him on his toes. Now he just had to convince her that throwing in dinner at a nice place, or an occasional bout of hot sex, would be good for both of them.
“Sure. I’ll think about it.” That was the last thing she said until he settled her into a taxi. “Thank you, Tristan. For, um, being a gentleman.”
“You’re welcome.”
He closed the door of the car and waved to her. A weak smile broke through the stoniness of her face. Lo and behold, the smile was lovely and sweet.
Tris got the sense that Leah’s edginess wasn’t so much arrogance. Something told him there was a story behind it, a wound that went deep. He didn’t know why she struck him that way—the woman was formidable—however something in the green-gold depths of Leah’s eyes told him she’d suffered a world of hurt, but she hadn’t shared it with him. Yet.
It made him wonder about her, made him think. Friends. Right. It was time he started learning more about his friend. He had a mystery to solve.
Chapter Two
She was late. She was so damn late. Normally she should have been able to get out of the city without a problem, but the tunnel was closed, so she had to go downtown, over the Manhattan Bridge, and weave her way through Brooklyn and Queens.
She’d bought the car when her mother was going through chemo so she could make frequent trips to Long Island without worrying about train schedules and cabs. In truth, having a car in the city was an expensive pain in the ass, even though in her case it was necessary. As soon as she was sure Mom was better, she’d sell it and cut her losses.
It was another full family gathering, including her brother and his now obviously pregnant bride, her sister, her parents, grandparents, Sally . . . Jesus. Leah didn’t know how she was going to explain herself except to say she overslept. Which wasn’t a lie, but it wouldn’t wash with her father, who’d been up since five.
Ever since her mother’s cancer diagnosis, her father was far less forgiving regarding anything that might make her mother tense or unhappy. Leah’s “attitude,” as he called it, was something he brought to her attention at every turn. She loved Da more than life, but he was a stubborn Scot and he loved her mother beyond measure. It was probably why Leah hadn’t settled down. How was she ever going to find love like her parents’? She thought she had, once, but she’d discovered that kind of connection was a rare jewel.
It was unlikely Leah would ever find it. Especially with her attitude. Da said it like she was a fucking teenager. Drawing a deep breath, Leah tried to focus on her mother. She had to calm down, she wouldn’t do herself any favors if she walked in ready for a fight.
It was a really nice day, even though it was cold. The sun was bright and the leaves were turning all sorts of beautiful colors. The water on the harbor rippled from the stiff breeze and made Leah glad she’d added a sweater to her outfit.
Grill was an upscale restaurant that sat perched on the edge of Huntington Harbor. At night it served some of the best steaks on Long Island, and was the place to take someone you wanted to impress. But they were also known for their wonderful brunch, gorgeous views, and signature drinks. Leah didn’t care about signature anything. She needed food and she needed caffeine. There was a good chance if anyone annoyed her she might do violence.
Pssht. Da would call that her attitude. He’d be right.
The valet opened her door and she dashed up the front steps of the restaurant, ignoring the way his gaze drifted to her ass as she walked away from him. Normally, she’d give the kid an earful, but she just didn’t have time to tell some hormone-addled twenty-year-old to act like a gentleman.
A gentleman. Leah au
dibly sighed. It didn’t take a second for her mind to find its way back to Tristan. She’d had such a wonderful time. The man was sex appeal personified, but more than that, he was so damned nice. He’d been a perfect gentleman—kind, gentle, considerate. It didn’t get much better in bed.
It was yet another reason she had to be careful around Tris. He could make her forget all the promises she’d made to herself to stay out of relationships. His humor, his gentle touch, his presence. Yup. No doubt about it. He could make her forget it all.
But no matter what kind of little fantasy Leah was falling into, Tristan was not interested in a relationship. And why would he be? He was assuming a partnership position in one of the fastest-growing firms in the tech industry, investing millions of his own money. He was going to be plenty busy, and while he may want companionship, and friendship, a real relationship wasn’t on his radar any more than it was on hers.
She heard her family as soon as she entered the restaurant. The sound was pure joy. Talk, laughter, good-natured teasing. Her father’s booming Scots brogue carried through the room like a rumble of thunder. As always, he was engaged in a battle of wills with their Irish housekeeper, Sally. She expected, as usual, Sally would win because that’s just the way things worked in her family.
Her older brother, Nate, and his new wife, Jenna, were at the far side of the table, watching Da and Sally spar. He and his bride had that particular posture assumed by newlyweds; Nate’s arm was draped protectively over the back of Jenna’s chair and she was turned into him. They’d whisper to each other, smile—he’d kiss the top of her head. Truthfully, she’d never seen her brother happier or more content. Leah’s natural skepticism still didn’t let her believe Nate and Jenna were truly a match made in heaven. But Jenna had won over everyone, and there was a baby on the way, so Leah was doing her best to be pleasant in spite of her misgivings.
When the family first found out about Nate and Jenna’s quickie marriage, there was a lot of concern. Leah, however, was the one who went on the attack, and as a result Jenna and Nate had the first major crisis of their marriage three days in. It all worked out, and they came out of it stronger. Leah wasn’t proud of the strife she’d caused, but she had to be sure her very sweet brother hadn’t been caught in some fortune hunter’s trap.
