Tropical Tryst: 25 All New and Exclusive Sexy Reads

by Nicole Morgan

  He motioned for Izzie to follow him since she didn’t know the way, as he marched through linen covered tables where celeb-struck people gaped. He tried without success not to stomp, deaf to the lively rendition of Mozart’s Serenade No. 13 that streamed from invisible loudspeakers. Noah, Nelson and Tristan busted their asses to put together the restaurant and it turned out a damn classy joint. He was proud of Chez Nous. He was comfortable there. It was an Izzie-free zone, his safe haven. He didn’t want Izzie in his workplace. He didn’t want to make new memories that would torment him later.

  Not anymore.

  On the other hand, he didn’t want to scare clients away, so he couldn’t take Izzie to the parking lot, nor could they stay in the lobby or in the main room. The office was the only place left where they could have some privacy. He jerked the door open and waited for Izzie to enter, followed her in, then slammed the door shut.

  She looked impressed. “You’ve got a nice thing going here,” she praised and he didn’t know if she meant the upscale restaurant or the elegant office furniture.

  Either way, he didn’t care. “Cut the crap. Why are you here?”

  He ignored the twinkle in her green eyes that resembled ache. He reminded his heart that he was heartless. No feelings allowed. He couldn’t budge. If he hesitated for a moment, he would give Izzie the upper hand. In the past, her suffering was his undoing. Every. Fucking. Time. Not anymore.

  So why is my heart thudding against my ribcage? Telling his traitorous ticker to be still, Tristan glowered at the woman standing next to him. Ignoring the perilous curves that the green silk of her calf-length dress hugged, he crossed his arms over his chest and frowned.

  “Mind if I sit down?”

  “Suit yourself.”

  He chose to stand beside his mahogany desk while Izzie sat on the edge of one of the overstuffed leather chairs facing it.

  “What happened to Lilly?”

  “What do you care?” Tristan muttered through clenched teeth.

  Again, with the sad puppy eyes? He wouldn’t fall for that.

  Izzie shrugged. “Your mom was always nice to me. Besides my parents, I didn’t have much of a family in Thousand Oaks. Lilly was kind of an aunt to me.”

  “I remember how your parents spoiled you rotten.” Disdain framed his speech now. It wasn’t always like that. Growing up, he envied Izzie’s relationship with her loving parents. Lilly was an amazing mother, more than compensating for the worthless excuse of a father who took off before Tristan was born. It sucked not having a dad. Then, it sucked more dealing with the long string of his mom’s boyfriends.

  Izzie pointed her chin up and let his remark slide. “You sounded like there’s something going on with Lilly just now when I asked.”

  “No. I said she was doing great.”

  “You lied.”

  Damn it! She can still see through my bullshit. He reminded himself she lost the right to that a long time ago.

  His turn to shrug. “If you say so.”

  “Not buying it.”

  “Not selling anything.” They locked gazes and Tristan would be damned if he backed down first. Time stood still. Unable to stare into Izzie’s forest green eyes any longer, he caved in. “She’s sick, alright?”

  “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

  “It is what it is, some sort of congenital kidney disease. She’s been on dialysis for a couple of years.”

  This time there was no mistaking the pain that shadowed Izzie’s face. A blue vein beat wildly on her neck as she combed her black pixie hair with her long fingers. He noticed she didn’t wear a ring on each finger as she used to, but she wore the Claddagh he gave her on prom night. Not so subtle, Ms. Anderson.

  That solid wall he built around his heart just got chipped. Damage control was in order, so he reminded himself Izzie’s married name was Mrs. King and resumed scowling.

  “Cut the small talk. Why are you here?” Tristan repeated, before Izzie had a chance to say how sad she was for his mom. That she felt bad was clear. He didn’t doubt she was sincere, but Lilly Knight was a major soft spot in his armor and Izzie knew it. “After fifteen years, why now?”

  The office furniture had been hand-picked to put visitors at ease, which wasn’t working for Izzie. Watching her fidget with her hands got to his oversensitive nerves. Yet he waited for her next words. When her tight lips remained sealed, he blew out an impatient sigh and draped one leg over the edge of the desk, resting his ass on its top and dangling the foot. He hoped she bought into his unruffled act because the tight leash he kept his self-control under was about to give.

  IZZIE DOUBTED Tristan’s cool demeanor reflected his real mindset. As a kid, he hid vulnerabilities behind a stoic pretense. Back then, she would call his bluff. Then again, she was his confidant, the one person, besides his mom, Tristan would turn to in times of need. She lost her safe haven status with him that night at Mark King’s house, when she trampled on Tristan’s heart, shattering his trust. She wasn’t sure she could read him all that well anymore.

  I hope not because what I see scares the shit out of me. How can I mend this man if I’m the one who broke him?

  Now she needed him whole and yet the moment she told him the truth about that night, it would wreck him all over again. Guilt and shame warred inside her, making her feel like she was standing on the edge of the highest cliff looking down. Izzie steeled herself and took the dreaded leap.

  She had to start somewhere, so she decided to go with the end. “I’m sorry.”

  Tristan’s gaze bored into hers yet she didn’t cower. She prayed he didn’t notice the slight twitch on her upper lip or the vein throbbing in her neck. One perfect eyebrow lifted and his eyes abandoned hers to focus on those exact spots.

  Shit!

  “That’s it?” He was toying with her. His words sounded flat, but his lips curved in a mocking smirk, his blue eyes gleamed glacial sparks that burned her face and scorched her soul. “After all these years, after the hell you put me through, that’s all you’ve got? You’re sorry?” He gasped and closed his eyes. When he reopened them, the pain that filled them ripped her heart out. “You didn’t cheat on a test or cut the checkout line at a grocery store. You fucked my best friend at my sign-up party. Mark was more than a father figure to me. He was my mentor. I got that record deal because of him. He threw that party to celebrate it and because I told him I was going to propose to you.” Izzie felt blood drain from her face. She never knew that. “I had a real shot with my own band. I wasn’t going to be ‘Mr. Izzie Anderson’ anymore. I wouldn’t be in your shadow as you kept me,” he whispered, tight-lipped. Izzie felt the ground vanish from under her feet. Tristan raised his voice when angry, but lowered it when disgusted.

  She shook her head, but couldn’t articulate a response. She was overwhelmed. She never knew he felt that way about her success. She found her voice. “That’s not true and you know it. I wouldn’t be anything without your support and your talent. I told you a million times we were partners. I loved you, goddamn it.”

  “If you truly loved me, you would’ve been faithful.” His voice dropped as his stare turned colder. He hopped off the table and braced his hands on the armrests of her chair, looming over her, “If you truly loved me, I wouldn’t have sauntered into Mark’s room in the middle of that party to find your lips wrapped around his cock, now, would I?”

  Izzie racked her brain for an appropriate comeback and came up empty-handed. Stunned by the emotions his raw words revived, she shrugged. That snapped something inside Tristan. He held her upper arms, squeezing them against her body and pulled her from the chair. Normally, her head reached his chest, but she tiptoed as he pulled her up until his hot breath brushed against her cheeks. Her eyelids dropped to hide herself from the burning rage she recognized in his eyes. Tristan was never violent towards her, but people change. The damage she had caused him ran deeper that she imagined. She braced herself for an assault. It never came.

  As fast as he had
seized her, Tristan shoved her free. Disoriented, Izzie reopened her eyes to find his back turned to her, hands splayed on the polished table top. He was panting, tension etching the large expanse of his back. In the past, snuggling against Tristan felt like heaven. Every time Izzie needed to hide from the evils of the world, Tristan’s warm chest welcomed her, soothing her pain away. His heartbeats used to be her favorite lullaby. Time and distance played a cruel trick on her, shrinking the true value of those precious moments. Stinging tears pricked the back of her eyes as she grasped the enormity of her loss. She swallowed hard, she wasn’t a wimp. She needed Tristan’s help and failure wasn’t an option.

  Izzie squared her shoulders, but his next words killed her newfound courage. “I swear to God, I’ve never laid a finger on a woman. I abhor men who do,” he muttered without turning around to face her. “I refuse to let you steal that away from me as well. Leave.”

  She choked at the vivid memories of Lilly Knight’s screams during sleepovers at Tristan’s house. Izzie was four and Tristan was about six. She would sneak into his bedroom when the banging and shouting started at his mom’s, crawling under the covers with him. He would hold her tight without saying a word. That silent reassurance comforted her into sleep. It wasn’t until much later in life that Izzie realized he was quiet because he was as terrified as she was.

  The tears Izzie fought before now rolled down her cheeks. Humiliation and shame made them burn. She hesitated, trying to find a way to reason with him. She owed him the truth, at least part of it. She came to Brazil to set things straight.

  “Now.” His icy tone spurred her into action.

  Dropping the hand she had raised to touch his tense shoulder, Izzie scuttled out of his office, leaving the door ajar. She darted through the crowded restaurant paying no heed to the heads that turned or the curious whispers that followed her. She didn’t care if people recognized her, took pictures or posted them online. She didn’t give a damn about any of that.

  I’ve damaged him beyond repair.

  She broke her heart when she broke his. Neither would ever be whole again.

  She didn’t stop until she reached the town car parked in front of the bistro. Hopping in, she shut the door and rested her head against the tinted window. As the driver pulled away and headed towards her hotel, she looked out of the window, but her eyes glazed over.

  She had no tears. She felt empty, defeated.

  TRISTAN WAITED until the clicking of Izzie’s high heels beating the tiled floor died out before he counted to ten and turned around. The empty room felt like a reflection of his soul. Barren, that was the word to describe it. As if on cue, the phone rang and he grabbed it. “Chez Nous Bistro,” he informed the caller without inflection. Recognizing a longtime supplier’s voice, he switched to a chirpy tone to mask his dreary mood. “What can I do for you?”

  He kept the devil-may-care act until closing time. All the while, Tristan felt like he was operating in two distinct dimensions, as if his true bleak self was watching his false lively reflection in a mirror. Eerie. He waited for the last employee to leave, then closed the restaurant and sank into his office chair. He felt drained and in dire need of an outlet for the negative mojo he accumulated in the last couple of hours. He never got into drugs; the closest thing he had to an addiction was music.

  He unlocked his cell to call Noah. Even though they were roommates, it’d be wise to give the guy a heads-up about a midnight jam session, in case Noah went to bed earlier than usual. Or he had female company. His finger hovered over a number, then tapped on it.

  IZZIE APPRECIATED the silent ride through the rain-washed streets, but it did nothing to calm her down. Disconnected scenes and fragmented memories clashed in her head. She shut her eyes and rubbed her forehead as if the gesture could erase years of suffering.

  She was clean for about a decade, but she recognized the emotions that could trigger a relapse. She fumbled inside her designer bag to find her phone. Her sponsor’s number was the first one on the call log.

  “What’s up, gorgeous?”

  “I screwed it up big time. I told you this wouldn’t work.”

  Jim Evans was old enough to be her grandfather, which put Izzie at ease around him and was essential for his positive influence. He also didn’t give a rat’s ass about her celebrity status. Having grown up as the troubled son of an unhinged, dysfunctional movie-star couple, Jim had seen Hollywood at its worst. No one surprised him. Nothing shocked him.

  He was genuinely fond of Izzie though and became her sponsor when she started in the NA program. He stuck by her side through struggles, small victories and inevitable setbacks. His encouragement helped Izzie move through the twelve steps.

  “The ninth kicks your butt every time, kiddo. You’ll manage though. You always do.”

  “Making amends is just the starting point with Tristan. I didn’t even get to that.”

  “You knew it wasn’t going to be easy.”

  “I hoped it wasn’t going to be this hard.”

  “Chin up, Izzie. You can do this. Now backtrack and tell me what happened from the beginning.”

  She relayed to Jim the details of her meeting with Tristan. Every single embarrassing one. She wouldn’t lie to her sponsor, which would defeat the purpose of having one in the first place. He hung on her words and coached whenever necessary. By the time she opened the door of the presidential suite she was in, Izzie was wrapping up the phone call.

  “We might be thousands of miles apart, but I’m just a phone call away.”

  “I know and I appreciate it. It means a lot. Good night.”

  When Izzie opened the minibar to get water, her eyes glued to the miniature bottles of vodka, coveting the quick fix they could offer. She grabbed a large bottle of Pellegrino and quickly shut the door. Although her downfall had been cocaine and resisting alcohol wasn’t normally a big deal for her, she was feeling way too crappy. Izzie knew better. Being clean meant abstaining from any kind of drugs, booze included. She poured the bubbly water into a tall glass and gulped down most of it. As the cool liquid soothed her dry throat, she gazed out the floor-to-ceiling balcony doors overlooking a dark bay. This was her first time in Florianópolis. When she toured Brazil, she never played here. She was surprised to find a vibrant city sprawled across an island blessed by luxuriant nature, but one of the biggest revelations the city offered her was a Golden Gate-like bridge that connected Florianópolis to the main land. As she finished up the water, she contemplated the structure’s silhouette illuminated by fairy lights as the full moon shed a magical light down the bridge and the ocean.

  Breathtaking.

  “HEY, STILL UP?” Tristan didn’t bother with a proper greeting before demanding, “Be ready to rock-and-roll all night. I’ll be there in twenty.”

  The drive back to his apartment building was faster than Tristan anticipated. Still, he pressed the floor number on the electronic panel of the elevator and leaned on the mirrored back wall watching the numbers increase to fifteen. When the doors opened, he strolled out of the elevator, dragged his feet to the apartment and inhaled deeply before pressing the bell as he exhaled.

  He whistled and gave Bruna a once-over when she opened the door wide. “Babe, you know how to greet a man.”

  Clad in sheer lacy lingerie, the voluptuous dark-haired beauty was precisely what he needed to erase the day from hell he had. That’s what Tristan told himself as he crowded her, plastering Bruna against the wall. He swung the door shut with his foot and pinned her generous curves with his lower body as he descended to claim her purple painted lips. Faint memories of other heart-shaped lips covered in plum color lipstick threatened to sneak up on him, but he shoved them to the back of his mind as he deepened his assault on Bruna’s mouth and wrapped her legs around his waist.

  CHAPTER 3

  Tristan eased up the pressure on Bruna’s soft lips when her whimpers reached his mind and he realized he was pushing her too hard against the wall as well. To his surprise, she
pulled his head down and whispered, “Don’t stop.”

  He slanted his mouth as his teeth pulled her full lower lip and he moved the party to the couch. Bruna opened his shirt as she straddled him. She knitted her eyebrows, but before she could say a word, Tristan latched on her nipple, moistening the fabric as he sucked. He didn’t want to talk. He wanted to forget. Bruna’s long fingers traced a path from his chin to the waist of his pants and toyed with the buckle of his belt. He thrust up to give her access and she deftly unzipped him and reached in for his cock. As their lips locked again, she pumped his shaft trying to bring it to life. No such luck.

  He fought a bitter taste in his mouth that burned his throat as remorse clawed its way up from the pit of his stomach. He held Bruna’s hand and shook his head when her downcast eyes flew up to stare into his. “Sorry, not gonna happen.”

  “That’s okay, T. It happens, particularly in my personal experience. It’s not your fault.”

  He gave himself a mental slap on the forehead. “No, this is not on you. Don’t go there. This is all me.”

  Climbing off his lap and plopping down on the couch beside him, Bruna closed the burgundy satin kimono and crossed her arms under her breasts. “Yeah, let’s go with that.”

  Rubbing the back of his neck, Tristan wrestled his inner demons to come up with a truthful enough reply that wouldn’t come across as snarky or needy. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he didn’t want Bruna’s pity. “Believe me, I’ve had the worst day today. My selfish mistake was to think a couple of sweaty rounds with you would make things better.” He raised a hand when her eyes shone with something akin to sympathy and she opened her mouth. “No, don’t feel sorry for me. I’m an ass for coming here in the state I’m in.” He buttoned the rumpled shirt and zipped up the pants, then shot his head up when he heard Bruna’s chuckle.