Tristan’s desk had to be a masterpiece. A dark solid oak that curved around him and held a laptop, a Rolodex, and two telephones. There were several papers littering the top and writing utensils strewn from one end to the other.
He motioned to the leather chair. “Have a seat.”
Sylvia sank into the plush chair and smiled. “I don’t want to keep you any later than possible. She pulled a large folder out of her bag and held it out to him. “We have samples of invitations and flowers. I’m going through bridal shops right now to find the perfect wedding dress.” She paused. “There is also the matter of hiring a photographer, a group of musicians for the reception, and finding a caterer.” She took a deep breath. “Are you existing in your happy place?”
Tristan put the folder down and exhaled. “I have a timeshare. Apparently Jon needs the same thing.”
Sylvia laughed and shook her head. “Only a couple more months. Then life will get back to fairly normal. And all this madness will be nothing but a memory.”
Tristan flipped open the folder and glanced at the contents. “When do you meet with Keira again?”
“She’s coming by Friday. I hope to have the bridal shops by then.” Sylvia leaned forward. “But I wanted you to get an idea of the price and what I’ll be showing Keira.”
Tristan nodded. “I appreciate it. Even though I’m sure we both know that I’ve put no cap on her spending.”
Sylvia’s lips twitched. “Music to my ears, Mr. Calhoun.”
He glanced up at her, and those brandy-colored eyes pinned her. “I don’t suppose we could shorten that to Tristan?”
She shrugged elegantly. “I’m rarely on a first name basis with my clients.”
“Hmmm.” Tristan cocked his head to the side. “We could set a precedent here.”
Sylvia raised an eyebrow. “Are we about to engage in a power struggle?”
“Not a bit.” Tristan picked up the invitations and thumbed through them. “I like these.” He looked back at her. “You realize that even though we invited five hundred, more than likely there will be at least two hundred more than that?”
“I’m aware of it, Mr. Calhoun.” Sylvia smiled at him. She actually planned for three hundred more. It was her job to be aware of all the facets of a wedding. And a Calhoun wedding had a large number potential.
“What other items do you have planned for my lovely sister?”
Sylvia pulled a notebook out of her bag. “The next step is looking for a reception area large enough to hold all the guests. I’ll also be canvassing for bridal shops and wedding gowns. And I think it would be a good idea to meet Jon’s parents. I like to be sensitive to future mother-in-law ideas.”
“You’ll love Maude.” Tristan smiled and raked a hand through his hair. “She’s a pistol. Jon is her only child. Her husband passed more than a decade ago, and she took over the reins of the business.”
“And what business is that?”
“Iron.” Tristan handed back the invitations. “They’ve made a damn fortune in it. And Maude has a great head for business. Jon takes after her.”
“A magnate merging,” Sylvia murmured. What could be more perfect?
“Not exactly.” Tristan pushed back from his desk and crossed his arms behind his head. “Keira and Jon met at a fundraiser for cystic fibrosis. Each had no idea of the familial ties. They found themselves at the same table. Jon was enamored. Of course.”
Sylvia grinned. “Of course.”
“The next thing I know, Keira brings him by.” Tristan frowned. “I had no idea how serious it had gotten. Seems to have slipped right past me.”
“How long did they date before talking about a wedding?”
Tristan blew out a breath. “About six months. A short amount of time, I remember telling Keira. But she insisted that Jon was the one.”
A chime sounded, and Tristan stood quickly. “That would be dinner. I’ve taken the liberty of ordering from Charlie’s this evening.” He pressed a button on the desk and spoke.
“Is it dinner, Grant?”
“Yes, sir.” Grant’s voice carried through the room. “And I appreciate you thinking of me, sir.”
Tristan smiled. “Tell that fiancée of yours that I’ll take care of the catering for the wedding, will you?”
“Yes, sir!”
Sylvia could hear the guard’s smile through his voice.
“I surely will, sir.”
Tristan lifted his finger from the button and grinned. “Grant’s a good guy.”
“The guard?”
He nodded.
“Good.” Sylvia smiled. “Because I assured him that I would reserve a planner for him.”
Tristan looked at her sharply. “You told him that?”
Sylvia stiffened her backbone at his tone. “I most certainly did.” She arched an eyebrow and stared at him. “Is there a problem with that?”
Tristan frowned. “I don’t know if Grant can afford your prices.”
She shook her head. “I have reasonable plans, Mr. Calhoun. Though I believe you and I both know your bill will be anything but. However, I’m confident I can give Mr. Cane a wedding that he and his fiancée will love.”
“I’m sure you will,” Tristan murmured. He walked over to the office door and opened it. A delivery man stood there with an armful of bags. Tristan handed him some money and took the bags.
Sylvia smiled at the aroma that came from the bags. She knew her takeout. Lemon chicken. Rice pilaf. Buttery rolls. Sylvia sighed. She’d have to start working out if she kept eating like this. Her body wouldn’t bloom into Tempest’s. Not bloody hardly. She’d look like a blimp in high heels.
Tristan turned back around. “Why all the sighing?”
Sylvia shook her head. “If you keep feeding me like this, I’ll have no recourse but to actually join a gym.”
Tristan’s gaze moved from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. “You’re stunning, Sylvia.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Hmph. Nice of you to say. But I’ll never have that effortless sexiness with curves that Tempest seems to have perfected.”
“Ah.” Tristan grinned and set the bags down on his desk. “The Amazon with the black hair?”
Sylvia grinned. “Stands out a bit, doesn’t she?”
“A bit,” he agreed. Tristan opened a door that Sylvia hadn’t seen and took out two dinner trays. He divided the food onto two plates and put the plates on the trays.
Her mouth watered.
“She’s new, isn’t she?” Tristan took two glasses down and poured a sparkling amber drink into both of them.
“She is.” Sylvia cocked her head to the side. All the questions made her leery. “I had a team member come down with a hellacious virus. She needs time off. Tempest graciously offered to step in and help.”
Tristan turned and looked at her. “Upset the apple cart a bit, did she?”
“A bit.” Sylvia’s lips twitched. “I don’t do well with sudden changes in my staff.”
“I gathered that.” Tristan brought a dinner tray over to her and then moved his in front of the other office chair beside her. He held up his drink. “To mergers.”
“Mergers,” Sylvia echoed and took a sip of the liquid. Apple juice. She tried not to choke as the laughter built in her. She set the drink down and looked at Tristan.
“Apple juice?”
He grinned. “Didn’t want you to think I planned to get you drunk and take advantage of you.” Tristan wriggled his eyebrows.
Sylvia threw back her head and laughed. “Oh my God.” It simply hit her as deliciously funny. She couldn’t get her breath back for at least another minute. Her sides hurt. And Tristan simply sat there watching her merriment.
“You slay me.” Sylvia took another sip to soothe her raw throat. Then she reached down and took a bite of pilaf. Still, Tristan watched her. “What?” she asked.
“You don’t laugh enough, Sylvia.” Tristan still studied her and nodded thoughtfully. “There’s more
of it in you than you think.”
She shrugged defensively. “I laugh plenty.”
“Sure you do.” Tristan took a bite of chicken and chewed thoughtfully. He motioned with his fork. “You don’t take enough time for yourself.”
“I didn’t come here to be dissected.” Sylvia took a bite of the rice and took a moment to collect her thoughts. “We’re discussing Keira’s wedding.”
“So we are.” Tristan took a sip of his juice. “We’ll finish dinner and then discuss what massive plans you have for my sister’s nuptials.”
They finished dinner in relative silence. When the last container had been packed away, Sylvia took another folder out of her bag. “We need to find a large enough space to hold almost a thousand people. We think we’ve found a florist and someone to do the invitations. Is there anyone in particular you’d like to hire for the musicians? Perhaps a DJ?”
“You can ask Keira the particulars.” Tristan took the folder and opened it. “You’ve been busy, Ms. Masters.”
“That I have.” Sylvia smiled. “Four months is just enough to plan this wedding. Any less time, and we’d be scrambling.”
“You love it.”
She nodded. “I find satisfaction in my work as I’m sure you do.”
“What do you do on the weekends?”
Sylvia stared at him. “I keep myself busy.”
“That’s suitably vague.”
“It was meant to be.”
Tristan chuckled. “Yes. I imagine it was.” He took a sip of apple juice and put the folder down. He looked up and caught Sylvia in the gaze of his eyes.
“I like you, Sylvia.”
The familiar panic welled up, and Sylvia fought it down by sheer willpower. “That’s nice, Mr. Calhoun. That will make our dealings that much easier.”
“‘Our dealings’?” Tristan frowned. “I think you’ve misunderstood me.”
“I doubt it,” she said dryly. “Slow, I’m not.” Sylvia met Tristan’s eyes and stiffened her backbone. “You want to know if I’ll decorate your bedspread with my body.” Sylvia’s blue eyes blazed. “The short answer is no. The long answer involves several expletives and broken glass.”
Tristan held up his hands. “Truce.”
“Then quit bringing it up,” she snapped. “I’ve seen your usual. I’m not it. Not by a long shot.” Sylvia snatched the folder and stood.
Tristan growled and stood, also.
And then the door opened.
Both heads swiveled.
The young woman stood there in a blue transparent negligee. She couldn’t have been more than twenty. Her long blond hair swung just above her ass while her blue eyes were wide with shock. Nothing even remotely covered up. She may as well have been wearing tissue paper. The negligible garment plunged low in the front to her naval. The sheer panties were actually a thong. Or butt floss, in Sylvia’s opinion.
The smile slid slowly from the young girl’s face as she looked at Sylvia. Then she perked up. “Did I interrupt something?”
Sylvia arched an eyebrow and looked at Tristan, who already made his way across the floor to take the girl by her arm.
“Gina! What in the hell are you doing?” He scowled down at her.
The girl pouted. “I wanted to see you, Tristan. And you never returned my calls. So I hid in one of the bathrooms until everybody went home.” She batted her eyelashes and smiled up at him. “I wanted to surprise you.”
“That you did.” Sylvia set her jaw. If this is what Tristan’s life was usually like, she really had no use for it. Women hiding in the bathroom for a minute of his attention. It turned her stomach. In more ways than one. She snatched her bag from the ground and swung it up on her shoulder.
Tristan held out his hand. “Wait, Sylvia. Please.”
The girl stomped her foot. “Tristan! I went to all this trouble. And you’re not even going to talk to me?”
“I ought to paddle your behind.”
As soon as the words were out, the girl grinned. “Okay.”
“For the love of God.” Sylvia smacked Tristan’s hand and frowned. “Put some clothes on, Barbie, and call me a damn cab.”
“Sylvia.” Tristan looked at her and set his jaw. “You’re not going anywhere yet. Let me just take care of this situation.”
“This situation?” Sylvia’s jaw fell. “This situation? Are you so immune to this type of thing that you can’t even see what a clusterfuck it is?”
“I know!” Tristan shouted and raked his fingers through his hair. “Damn it all. This isn’t what I had in mind when I invited you up here this evening.”
“Hey!” Gina looked from Tristan to Sylvia. “Is this your new girlfriend?”
“No!” Sylvia shook her head vehemently. “I’m a wedding planner.”
“A wedding planner?” Big tears rolled from the girl’s blue eyes as she looked at Tristan. “You’re-you’re getting married?” She sobbed into her hands.
Sylvia looked at Tristan and shook her head in reproach. She moved forward and put her arm around the girl’s slender shoulders. “No, honey. I’m planning his sister’s wedding.” Sylvia gently maneuvered the girl away from Tristan and to the brown leather couch.
“Clothes!” Sylvia snapped at him before she turned her attention back to the girl.
Tristan growled but left the room.
“Listen, Gina.” Sylvia lifted the girl’s face and looked deep in her eyes. “Men like Tristan don’t want to settle down and play house. They’re not cut out for it.”
Gina sighed. “I’d make a great wife. I know how to decorate and make everything look great.”
“Really?”
“Sure.” Gina sniffled. “I’m taking classes in interior design. The professors think I have a lot of potential.”
Sylvia warred with herself for a second. “Do you have a portfolio?”
“Uh huh.” Gina sighed.
“Okay.” Sylvia mentally smacked herself but spoke anyway. “How about you bring your portfolio around to me tomorrow or the next day so I can have a look at it? I’m going to be expanding my business soon and will need some new employees.”
“Really?” Gina smiled. “You’d do that for me?”
“Yes.” Sylvia shook her head. “I’m sure there’s a lot more to you than what I’ve seen this evening.” Sylvia grinned. “And that’s a lot.”
Gina blushed. “I’m sorry. I really thought I had a chance with Tristan. We met at the college. He came to visit one of my professors. He seemed really nice. Gave me a business card and told me to give him a call.” She frowned. “But every time I called, he claimed to be busy.”
“Tristan’s a very busy man.” Sylvia bit the inside of her cheek to keep from being extremely hateful. “I’m sure his business keeps him occupied.” As well as trafficking his multitude of women.
Tristan walked back into the room with a plush white chenille robe. He laid it on Gina’s lap. “I had Grant call you a cab. Is there anything else you need?”
Gina stood and slid her arms through the robe and belted it. She lifted her chin. “No. Thank you. And I apologize for my behavior.” She smiled down at Sylvia. “I’ll see you later.” Gina nodded once to Tristan and walked out of his office.
You could have heard a pin drop.
“See you later?” he echoed and stared at Sylvia.
Her blue eyes flashed and darkened. “You’re damn right. I’m considering hiring her as a decorator.” Sylvia snarled. “It’s a hell of a lot more than a robe, you arrogant jackass.”
“I had nothing to do with that,” he protested and ran his fingers through his hair. “Jesus,” he mumbled. “Now I’ve got to alert Grant to start checking the bathrooms.”
The bathrooms? Sylvia’s blood boiled. The son of a bitch worried about his bathrooms?
“Yes. You should do that.” Sylvia advanced on Tristan until she stood a mere foot away from him. She poked him in the chest hard. “Have your guard check the bathrooms for girls who think they sta
nd a chance with you but actually don’t.” The words were low and disgusted. “Make sure he does a clean sweep of places women would hide to collect on a promise you made and didn’t keep.” Sylvia clenched her jaw. “And make fucking sure the next time you tell someone you’ll call them, that you actually do.”
“Sylvia.” Tristan grabbed her arm.
“She’s practically a child.” Sylvia reminded him and shook her arm loose. “And once again, you said something and then utterly dismissed it. You and I friends?” Sylvia snorted and shook her head. “I have too much self-respect.” She turned on her heel and left the office.
* * * *
How could one individual rattle her like that? Sylvia’s blood boiled, and she slammed her way into her house and cursed Tristan Calhoun up one side and down the other. His ancestry, his manhood, and his intelligence took major hits.
Sylvia threw her clothes into the laundry hamper in the bathroom and slid a white cotton nightgown on. She snagged a pint of ice cream out of the freezer and walked back to her couch in the living room.
“Arrogant bastard,” she muttered and spooned a bite of ice cream into her mouth.
How badly had she wanted to believe the words Tristan uttered?
Bad enough to make her feel ashamed that a handsome package could make her forget her principles.
Another bite of ice cream. Another self-loathing lecture.
Sylvia finished the pint and didn’t bother getting up from the couch. She simply pulled a quilt over her and curled up tightly.
Pushing Tristan Calhoun out of her head turned out to be a hell of a lot harder than she originally anticipated.
Chapter 5
“Counting your gold pieces like Scrooge?”
Sylvia brought her head up slowly from the ledger and blinked. Her lip curled into a sneer.
Tristan leaned insolently against the doorframe of her office. His gray suit clung lovingly to him, tailored to every muscle. His hands hung loosely at his sides, and he appeared completely relaxed.
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