by Sabrina York
“No. But Shannon…” His chuckle was slightly exasperated. “You know we have to stop doing this.”
“I know.” She nuzzled her nose against the taut skin of his chest. Her breath skated across a nipple and he grunted.
“If anyone at work found out about us, especially Adam, there would be hell to pay.”
“I know.” Her tongue snaked out to nudge an enticing copper disk.
“Stop it,” he whispered through a grin, slapping a hand over his nipple. “Go to sleep.”
“Will you stay?” she asked. She had to.
In response, his caress drifted across the small of her back. Over the dimples on her butt. Down to the sensitive backs of her knees. Then up. Up and up, until he stroked, stoked the heart of her. Made her gasp and cry out and beg for more.
And she didn’t get much sleep at all.
It wasn’t until the next morning—as the sun dawned bright and warm and she awoke wrapped in his arms, held tightly, close to his heart—that she realized the box of condoms she’d purchased remained unopened in her dresser drawer.
Chapter Six
“I love that color,” Shannon said, sighing at the flowers on Kat’s desk.
“Which one?” Kat grinned. Her desk was awash in blooms, roses in a panoply of colors.
“The cream.” Shannon gently stroked one exquisite bud with a tentative fingertip.
“I love cream.” Jenny took a bite from her peach as she flipped through a thick, glossy tome. “Oh,” she cooed. “Look at this dress.” She wedged her peach between her teeth and flipped the heavy book around so the others could see.
Sara glanced up from the magazine she was perusing. “Lordy. That is divine.”
Kat shook her head. “I’d get lost in the ruffles.” She waved the magazine away with an insistent hand. “Look for something simpler.”
“It’s your wedding day, for heaven’s sake. You should be a princess.”
“She already is a princess,” a deep, seductive voice purred. Every female gaze turned to Adam Trillo with deep appreciation. He was yummy. He prowled into Kat’s office, an undeniably male counterpoint to the veritable florist shop filling the room.
“Aw.” Jenny batted her be-glittered eyelashes. “Isn’t that sweet?”
“Darling.” Adam took Kat in his arms for a long, probing kiss.
A very long, probing kiss.
Shannon, Jenny and Sara watched for a minute but looked away when the kiss continued.
And continued.
Sara tipped back her head and studied the ceiling, pursing her lips to whistle a tuneless refrain.
Still the kiss continued.
When Adam finally surfaced, Kat was flushed and breathless. Beautiful. Happy.
Shannon tried not to let her jealousy rise. Kat and Adam were getting married, after all. And they deserved their happiness. It wasn’t their fault Shannon’s love life was somewhat less than perfect.
Oh, no doubt, her interludes with Tristan were perfect, or as close as a human being could come without expiring on the spot. But great sex did not a perfect love life make. His insistence—after each encounter—that it couldn’t happen again was starting to wear on her patience.
Sure, she’d been able to lure him back, using one seductive tactic or another. But a woman got tired of being the aggressor every time. A woman got tired of launching the chase. A woman wanted a man to pursue her. Once in a while.
But that wasn’t going to happen.
Tristan wasn’t going to bend on his rule—at least, he wouldn’t bend it any more than he already had. He certainly wasn’t about to slip into a permanent relationship with her. He wasn’t even willing to make their relationship public.
He wasn’t even willing to tell his own brother about their affair. That in itself was tremendously significant because Tristan told Adam everything.
Shannon fondled the lovely cream rose, absorbed with its velvety texture and sweet smell. She tried to ignore Adam and Kat’s byplay and tried not to envy her friend the love she’d found. But most of all, she tried not to cry.
Crying was foolish. She knew what she was getting into when she seduced Tristan in the first place. Just because she’d decided she wanted more than mind-boggling sex didn’t mean he was obliged to comply. She was being decidedly foolish to even expect him to want the same.
But she did.
“Did you get your dress for tonight?” Adam asked Kat, drawing Shannon’s attention from her morose reverie. Kat had regaled them all on their plans for tonight. They were going to a party at a beachside restaurant in Malibu.
“Yes.” Kat leaned into Adam and wrapped her arms around his neck. They were so in love. It was too much to bear. Shannon desperately wanted to leave but didn’t want to be rude. “It’s skimpy and it’s black.”
“Mmm.” Adam nibbled Kat’s neck. “I love it!”
Kat laughed. “I knew you would.” She adjusted Adam’s collar, though it was perfect. “Who’s Tristan’s date again?”
Shannon’s attention sharpened, as did the dagger through her heart.
“Tristan has a date?” Sara gaped. “Who?”
Adam had discovered Kat’s earlobe. “What? Oh. Tandy Larsen.”
Tandy Larsen. Shannon’s stomach plummeted. She’d thought for certain Tristan had ended it with Tandy. Months ago.
Yes. She was definitely going to cry.
“Dear me,” she said, pretending to glance at her watch and hoping to heaven no one noticed she wasn’t actually wearing one. “Is that the time? I’ve got to get back to work. You two have fun tonight.” This, she threw over her shoulder. She had already left the room.
Adam stepped out of the way to let Shannon depart in an all-fired rush to get back to work—how like her. He turned back to Sara and said with an evil smile, “Tristan’s going with Tandy. He just doesn’t know it yet.”
“He doesn’t know who his date is?” Jenny’s face scrunched up in a bemused moue.
Kat grinned. “He thinks he’s just going to a friend’s birthday party.”
“But Kat and I figured he needed something a little more stimulating.”
“So we set him up on a date.”
Adam leaned forward and whispered, “With a woman.”
“So…you set up a date with his ex?” Sara lifted a dubious brow.
“One of his exes.”
“His favorite.”
Sara snorted. “There’s a reason exes are exes.”
“Dang.” Jenny put out a lip. “I wish you’d picked me. I’d love to go on a date with Tristan. Even with you two along.”
“Jenny,” Adam chortled, “even I wouldn’t do that to my brother.”
A date.
Tristan had a date.
Shannon sat at her desk and determinedly fixed her attention on her computer, though she saw nothing through the blur of her tears.
She should have known. She should have suspected. She should have…
What?
She’d wanted him and she’d taken him. He’d told her all along their relationship was little more than a one-fuck stand. It was not something he was interested in pursuing.
She should have listened.
With a heavy sigh, Shannon closed her laptop and gathered her things. It wasn’t time to go home but it was Friday and she was tired and she really didn’t care much if anyone needed her for anything.
Besides, she desperately needed to be alone to think this through. She had to get to a place where she could survive this thing with Tristan, where she was comfortable mentally, physically and, most importantly, emotionally. That she’d been devastated to learn he had a date tonight should be a huge red flag.
The robot would be flailing its arms and bellowing, “Danger, Will Robinson. Danger. Danger.”
They’d never made any promises to each other—he certainly never had. There was no agreement or understanding, certainly no talk of monogamy. She had no right to be jealous. She had no call to be hurt.
They had screwed.
Several times.
That was it.
And it wasn’t much.
But it felt like so much more—to her, at least.
She just needed to remember that most of what had happened with Tristan had happened in the privacy of her own mind. He certainly didn’t share her fascination. She was nothing more to him than a fuck buddy—a fuck buddy who happened to work for him. He had no claim on her and she had no claim on him.
If only she could remember that.
“Have you seen Shannon?” Tristan asked, poking his head into Adam’s office later that afternoon.
“Nope.” Adam turned the page on the document he was studying, a clear and unsuccessful attempt to dismiss this interruption. “Not for a while.”
“Her desk is cleared off and her laptop is gone. It looks like she left for the day.”
Adam shrugged but Tristan could tell it was a halfhearted effort. “No clue. If you need her,” he suggested, “why don’t you call her?”
Tristan shifted from one foot to the other. “She’s not answering her cell.”
Adam grunted and returned his attention to his work. As though he didn’t care. Or something.
Kat entered the room, carrying two garment bags over her shoulder. That caught Adam’s attention.
Before they could get all gooey—and Tristan could tell they were about to start kissing again—he threw out his burning question. “Hey, Kat, have you seen Shannon?”
“No.” She handed one of the bags to each of the brothers.
Tristan took the bag with a frown. “What’s this?”
Adam grinned. “I told you he’d forget.”
“Technically, I didn’t argue the point. This party has nothing to do with work, after all.” Kat playfully patted Tristan’s cheek.
“What party?” Tristan unzipped the garment bag. “Hell. It’s formal?”
“Levin’s birthday?”
“Shit.” He’d forgotten. Completely.
“Don’t worry,” Kat said. “I picked up a gift from you.”
“You did? What’d I get him?”
“A GPS device-thingy from that fancy-schmancy device-thingy store.”
“Wow. That was nice of me. She’s a keeper,” he whispered to Adam in an aside.
“No kidding.” Adam draped his garment bag over the chair and pulled Kat into his arms. “It’s nice having someone around to do things for you. And to do things to you!”
Kat cuddled closer with an impish, knowing grin. “It’s nice to have someone to warm your feet at night.”
Adam shuddered. “You need to quit doing that. You almost gave me a heart attack last night.”
“My feet are not that cold.”
“I beg to differ.”
“Adam Alan Trillo…”
Tristan sighed. Clearly they could be having this conversation for a while and he really wasn’t in the mood to listen, so he interrupted. “So have either of you seen Shannon?”
Adam and Kat turned and stared at him.
“Well, have you?”
“You already asked us.”
“Did I?”
“Yes,” Adam said. “And if her desk is cleared off and her computer is gone…call me crazy but I’m thinking she went home early.”
“Shannon doesn’t go home early.” Dear God, was his voice really that petulant? Hell. He felt petulant.
“Maybe something came up.” Kat pulled out her cell phone. “Let me call.”
Before Tristan could murmur plaintively, “She’s not answering her cell,” she was answering her cell. For Kat.
“Hey, Shannon. Kat Hart.” Kat flashed a thumbs-up at Tristan. “I’ve got her,” she said. “Yeah. Shan, Tristan was wondering where you are. Oh. Uh huh. I see. Okay. Have a good weekend. Sure. Okay.”
Tristan started to fidget, impatient for the conversation to end. How could women talk so much and fail to get to the point already?
“I know. Totally. Huh? What? Yeah. We will. Okay. Bye.”
As Kat flipped her cell phone shut, Tristan realized he’d been holding his breath. He let it gust out in a heavy rush.
“Well?” he snapped, even before the phone was completely closed. “Where is she?”
“She had to leave early.” Kat flashed a smile at Adam. “She told us to have fun at the party.”
“Is she okay? Is she sick or is something wrong with Bosco?”
Kat tipped her head to the side and studied him, then shook her head. “No. She just had to go.”
“But she didn’t say anything…” Muttering to himself, Tristan shuffled out of Adam’s office.
“Hey,” Adam called after him. “Be ready to go at five. We have to drive to Malibu and there’ll be traffic.”
Tristan frowned. “I don’t want to go to the party.” He wanted to go to Shannon. He should probably talk to her about last night. And tonight, maybe.
“You have to go to the party!” Kat, for some reason, looked horrified.
“Why?”
Adam shrugged. “It’s Levin’s party.”
“You met him first. You go.”
“You have to go,” Adam insisted.
“Why?”
They exchanged a glance then, his brother and his best-analyst-turned-fiancée. It was one of those lover-ly looks that meant they were communicating without words.
And they were probably talking about him.
Tristan was learning to hate those looks.
Kat twined her fingers together and shot him an innocent smile. She even batted her eyelashes, the witch. “Because you have a date.”
Aw shit. “I have a what?”
“A date.” Adam stepped between Tristan and Kat. Really? His tone hadn’t been that sharp. “We decided it would do you good to go out with an actual woman.”
A woman? One woman popped into his mind. Only one. His heart lifted and his lips curled. Had Shannon gone home early because she had to prepare for a date with him? Now there was an interesting prospect.
Suddenly an evening at the beach dressed up in a monkey suit didn’t sound so annoying. It sounded intriguing. “What woman?”
His brother’s mischievous grin boded well for his hopes but then Adam opened his mouth and said the most hideous thing Tristan could ever have imagined. “Tandy Larsen.”
His heart, his belly and his mood dropped sharply. “Tandy? You’ve got to be shitting me. We broke up years ago.” And it hadn’t gone well.
“It was nine months ago. She thought the date was a great idea.”
“Yeah,” Tristan muttered. “She would.”
It’d taken him forever to let her down easy. And now he had to start all over again. Convincing Tandy Larsen he wasn’t in the market for a girlfriend—at least one named Tandy Larsen—was the last thing he wanted to be doing tonight.
He wanted, very badly, to talk to Shannon and see how she was doing. Then maybe hold her again and kiss her again. And maybe try that thing with the peanut butter again. He’d really liked that. Really.
Apparently Shannon had a thing for peanut butter.
Damn. He probably wouldn’t get back from the party until ten or eleven. Or later, if Kat and Adam wanted to stay. Would that be too late to show up on Shannon’s doorstep?
He headed back to his office in a foul mood and punched her number into his cell but she didn’t answer. For some reason she still wasn’t picking up. For him. His dismal mood darkened even more.
After he left, Adam shot Kat a curious look. “Did any of that seem a little odd to you?”
She tapped her lips thoughtfully. “Apparently we picked the wrong woman as his date.”
Chapter Seven
Tristan didn’t see Shannon all weekend, even though he went by her place several times and banged on the door and called her on the phone and even reconnoitered her patio through binoculars like a pervert stalker.
Nothing. Not a glimpse. It was as though she’d disappeared from the face of the earth.
And all the while, he burned.
He could think of little other than her expression as he buried himself in her body, the way she’d felt wrapped around him. He wanted her with a passion he’d never experienced before. But it wasn’t only her body he desired. He missed her company as well. He’d have a thought and turn to share it with her but he’d be alone. Or he’d fix a meal and realize, for some reason, he’d made up two plates.
He was infatuated with Shannon. Everything about her haunted him—her mop of curls, her expressive eyes and her rosebud mouth. She talked a little in her sleep, he remembered, just little mumbles and moans, with the occasional “Tristan” thrown in. And she snorted when she laughed sometimes—a dainty little snort but endearing for all that.
This preoccupation with her should have annoyed him, would have annoyed him, say a week ago, but oddly it didn’t.
It felt…right.
His phone rang several times over the weekend and he rushed to answer it, only to find the person on the other end of the line was not someone he wanted to talk to. Not the gentleman with a wonderful offer from a Nigerian banker. Not Adam, who called to remind him to bring wine for their Sunday dinner with Mom. And certainly not Tandy Larsen, who called to announce she was ready to accept his apology for breaking up with her in the first place.
At one point in his life, Tristan had had the patience to deal with Tandy’s histrionics—he’d even thought her tantrums and scenes were cute—but not anymore. Not even the prospect of hot make-up sex could intrigue him. At least, not hot make-up sex with Tandy.
Their “date” had been miserable—although it had served to validate his decision to end it with her. She’d been clingy and flirty and had patently ignored his every gentle rebuff. And then, when he’d come right out and told her he just wasn’t interested, she’d dropped to the ground in a fit of the vapors.
In retrospect, he realized she’d probably expected him to catch her.
He remembered what a drama queen Tandy had been. How exhausting Tandy had been. And then he thought of Shannon—calm and prosaic, even when he’d announced there would be no more screwing around like horny little bunnies. She hadn’t accepted his decrees but there had been no tantrums, no tears, no fits of the vapors. She’d just calmly, quietly seduced him—again and again. And again. Using only her wits and an inscrutable feminine understanding of his deepest desires, she’d made him want her beyond reason.
