Crash Into Me (17 page)

I
found him sitting naked on the couch with a nearly empty glass in his hand. His
face was drawn, and he looked tired as he swallowed the last gulp of alcohol.
He stood to pour himself another drink, a sign that no matter what he said
things weren't okay.

This
was my doing, so I had to fix it. I knelt in front of him as he sat back down
and leaned my head on his leg. "Did you eat anything? Do you want me to
get you a plate?"

He
shook his head. "No. I'm fine with just a drink. You eat, though. The food
is impeccable."

I
didn't want to eat. My appetite was gone. All I wanted was to fix what I'd
done, but I didn't know how. There was something sad between us now. It was
nothing obvious, but I felt it as I sat so close to him. Looking up at him, I
wished more than anything that I knew the right words to say.

"I'm
looking forward to visiting the museums tomorrow," I said quietly.
"Are you?"

He
smiled sweetly. "Only because you're going to be there."

"We're
going to see some great works of art. I think you'll like it."

"I
know I will because you like it."

"Love
it, actually. Ever since I was a little girl, I've loved art."

He
placed his hand on the back of my head and stroked my hair. "Love
then."

We
sat there saying nothing for a long time until he finally cupped my chin in his
hand and said, "Let's go back to bed."

Taking
my hand, he led me to the second bedroom past the one we'd been in earlier. He
closed the door behind us and leaned down to press a passionate kiss onto my
lips. His tongue slipped into my mouth to mingle with mine, making moisture
rush to between my legs. I ran my hands over the soft skin of his back and
moaned into his mouth.

As
I was beginning to think we'd moved past the problem of earlier, he pulled back
and stared down at me. My blood ran cold that he was angry or upset, but when
he spoke, his words were full of tenderness that touched my heart and brought
tears to my eyes.

"Your
happiness and safety is all I care about. The thought of losing you terrified
me."

"I
know. I'm so sorry. I just didn't think," I said, wanting so much to make
him feel better.

He
kissed me to stop me from talking and shook his head. "Don't apologize. It
made me realize I should have said this a long time ago. I love you, Nina, and
I don't want to lose you."

Tears
streamed down my cheeks at his words. He loved me like I loved him. Smiling
through my tears, I sobbed, "I love you, Tristan. I'm the luckiest woman
in the world because of you. You've given me everything a girl could dream
of."

"I
haven't given you anything you don't deserve. Don't ever forget that."

Within
just a few minutes, the melancholy that had covered him lifted and he was the
Tristan I loved to be around. We made love sweetly and tenderly, and as we lay
there in each other's arms, I tried to forgive myself for what I'd done.

The
truth was that I sometimes didn't know how to act around him. He was so hard to
gauge at times, which made me feel like being myself was inappropriate. In the
beginning, I had thought it was the money—the way he spent money on me unnerved
me, making me feel as if he believed I was someone I wasn't. I'd never
pretended to be anyone but myself, but I found it hard to believe that a man
would simply give gifts just because he could. It was never him but me who had
the problem. Just because I'd never been fortunate enough to meet someone like
him didn't mean I didn't deserve him.

I
didn't know if he knew how troubled my mind was over things like that. If he
did, he never spoke a word about it. But that was his way. He wasn't a man who
spent hours talking about what was on his mind. He decided on matters and they
happened.

It
was one of the many things about him that I admired.

I
absentmindedly ran my hand over his ribs, loving the feel of his body under my
touch. Even now after a wonderful lovemaking session, I could spend hours
worshipping his body again. He had that effect on me, unlike any other man I'd
ever met had.

"Tristan,
are you asleep?" He twirled my hair around his finger, a sign that he was
still awake. "I'm really looking forward to seeing the museums
tomorrow."

"Good.
It will be educational for me since I know little about art."

I
lifted my head from his chest and looked up at him, confused. "I've seen
your house and penthouse. I think you know a great deal about art."

He
smiled and pursed his lips. "I know a great deal about hiring people to
decorate the places I live in."

I
didn't know why, but his remark stung my feelings. The truth was that I was an
employee of his, no matter how intimate we were after work hours. But something
in his tone signaled a disdain for the people he'd hired to decorate his homes,
and I suddenly felt like I was grouped in with them.

Rolling
over, I turned my back to him and worked to push these thoughts out of my mind.
I was sleeping next to him in our hotel room in Venice where he'd brought me
for no other reason than to enjoy a city renowned for something I loved.
Whatever slight I'd felt was silly.

His
arm snaked around my waist, and he pressed his body against mine. "What
happened there? Suddenly tired?"

"It's
been a long day," I said as I stared at the wall.

He
kissed my neck, nuzzling the space between my shoulder and my ear. "I love
you. Get some sleep and we'll head out bright and early so you can teach me all
the things I should know about art so I'm not a philistine anymore."

His
self-effacing way made me smile, and I turned my body to face him. Kissing him,
I said, "You're no philistine, even when it comes to art."

"Well,
I'm a cultured philistine then," he joked.

Wrinkling
my nose, I said, "I don't think such a thing exists."

He
leaned forward and kissed me. "Then maybe I just want to impress the woman
I love."

And
with just those words, any slight I'd felt melted away. "I can report that
the woman you love is already impressed."

Pulling
me close, he held me and kissed the top of my head. "She loves me and is
impressed. I must be doing something right."

"Definitely."

He
fell silent for a long time, never releasing his hold on me. Finally, just as I
was about to fall asleep, I heard him say quietly above me, "She loves
me."

I
did. More than I could ever explain to him.

Chapter Sixteen

Sunrise in Venice was just as incredible as the sunset the night before had been, and
after a light breakfast, I was ready to show Tristan some of the greatest
artwork in the world. The idea that I could be better than him at something
thrilled me, and I wanted to impress him as much as he wanted to impress me.

Dressed
comfortably in a light yellow cotton dress and flats so we could visit as many
museums as time allowed, I walked out of our bedroom to see Tristan ending a
phone call. His grimace was profound, marring that beautiful face.

"I'm
going to have to miss our tour of the museums today, Nina. Something's come up
that I need to deal with."

His
body language was stiff, telling me he was unhappy about whatever the problem
was. I wanted to cry my disappointment was so great. All my fantasies about
showing him my knowledge of the art world disappeared in a heartbeat, wrecked
by another of his phone calls.

I
tried not to pout, but my efforts weren't very successful and I lowered my gaze
to look at my shoes so perfect for walking around Venice. He walked toward me
and lifted my chin with his forefinger. Looking down into my face, he wore an
expression of disappointment mixed with something else. I just couldn't put my
finger on what that something else was.

Anger?
Disgust?

"I'm
sorry. I wanted to go with you, but it's important I take care of this."

I
bit my lip and tried to control my tongue so I didn't make his situation even
worse. "I know. I just so wanted to show you..." I let my sentence
trail off. My desire to impress him sounded silly now.

"I
want you to still go. One of my men will escort you, so go wherever you
want."

"I
don't need an escort. You roamed around Venice all by yourself when you were
sixteen. I'm sure I can handle myself."

He
shook his head definitively. "No. One of my men will be with you, if you
choose to go."

There
was no arguing the point, so I didn't. I wouldn't have Tristan, but I'd have a
shadow. "I guess one of your guys will be okay," I mumbled.

Placing
a kiss on my forehead, he whispered, "I promise I'll make it up to
you."

"You
better. I'm thinking The Louvre might be the only thing that could make this
better."

"It's
a date," he said and flashed me a smile that made it next to impossible to
be angry with him.

Whatever
the problem was, it required him to leave immediately, but within ten minutes
my escort arrived. Nearly as tall as Tristan, Jared was much bigger, like
bouncer-at-a-club bigger. I guessed he had little appreciation for art. After
trying twice to strike up a conversation as we stood there in the living room
of the suite, I surmised he had little appreciation for talking too.

"Well,
Jared, it's nice to meet you. My name is Nina. I guess you're going with me to
visit some museums today."

My
giant shadow nodded once and said, "As you wish, ma'am."

Ma'am.
Oh, I was sure I wasn't going to enjoy my time with him.

After
visiting two museums, I had all but forgotten about Jared and immersed myself
in the works of art at the Ca’Rezzonico museum. The landscape painting
exhibition on the first floor took my breath away. I stood staring at paintings
showing eighteenth century Venice as it truly had been back then, mesmerized at
how similar so many things in the city still were. Yet the paintings showed a
different Venice in many ways, and I was taken back to those days I'd studied
about in school, finally feeling like I was experiencing them for myself as I
studied those pictures that hung on the walls.

I
moved through the floor wishing Tristan was at my side so I could tell him
about all the wonderful history of landscape painting in Venice. A touch of
sadness came over me, but I pushed it out of my mind, reminding myself that
while Tristan had given me time off from my job for this trip, no one had given
him any.

Lost
in thought about landscape painting, I didn't see the man next to me until he
spoke. Surprised, I jumped and turned to look at the stranger. "Excuse me?
I didn't hear what you said."

"I
said it's beautiful, isn't it?"

"It
is." I continued to look at the man, surprised by his American accent.
"You're an American?"

He
nodded. "Yes, I am. It's nice to meet another person from back home."

I
studied his face as I tried to determine his age. The corners of his eyes were
wrinkled slightly, but his face was tanned, giving him a glow that made me
think he might be in his thirties. His hair had streaks of grey at the temples,
leading me to believe he might be older, though.

"Where
are you from?" I asked, thinking I picked up a Midwest accent.

"Minnesota. Land of ten thousand lakes."

"That's
a lot of lakes," I joked.

"Beautiful
country there. Where are you from?" he asked as he studied my face, likely
to ascertain the answers I'd sought a minute earlier.

"Pennsylvania. We don't have that many lakes."

The
man extended his hand and introduced himself as Derek. I smiled and said,
"It's nice to meet you, Derek. I'm Nina."

"I
used to know someone from Pennsylvania with a daughter named Nina. His name was
Joseph. I met him on assignment years ago."

"Assignment?
What did he do?"

"He
was an investigative journalist."

"Do
you remember his last name?" I asked excitedly, amazed at the idea that I
might be talking to someone who'd known my father.

"Edwards.
His name was Joseph Edwards."

"Oh,
my God! That was my father!"

"He
was a good man. Great writer," Derek said in a solemn voice, using the
past tense, which told me he knew about my father's death.

"It's
so wonderful to hear that. He loved what he did."

"He
did. I remember him talking about you too. You were the apple of his eye. His
little artist is what he called you, if I remember correctly."

I
beamed at Derek's memory, loving that my father had spoken about me like that.
"I haven't heard that in so long. I miss hearing him call me that."

Derek's
eyes narrowed. "I think it's a shame they never charged the people
responsible."

My
heart slammed against my chest at Derek's implication. The police had
repeatedly told my sister and me that all the leads had gone cold, but it
sounded like he was saying someone knew who'd murdered my father. "Do you
know anything about that?"

"Ma'am,
it's time we got going."

I
turned to see Jared ready to do his best escort impression. "I'll be ready
in a minute. I'm talking right now."

My
shadow looked around and then back at me. "Ma'am, I think he left."

Jared
was right. Derek was nowhere in sight. I took off to find him, but it was like
he'd vanished. I searched all four floors, but I never found him. As Jared
escorted me back to the hotel, the man's claim echoed in my head.

Someone
knew who had murdered my father.

I
left Jared behind in the lobby and raced up to the room to get my head
together. I needed a cool drink and some time to think about what Derek had
said. The idea that the people responsible for my father's death still roamed
free while he lay cold in the ground tore at me. I'd never believed what the
police told us, but without any proof, all I had was my gut feeling that what
they knew about the case was only the tip of the iceberg.

Throwing
my purse on one of the chairs in the suite's living room, I stripped nude and
ran myself a bath in the soaker tub. I poured myself a glass of red wine and
slid into the water, wanting so desperately to calm the craziness that was
racing around my brain. The wine quickly dulled my senses, as alcohol always
did, and I closed my eyes to silence my thoughts.

At
last, my brain calmed and all that was left was the feeling of loss that I'd
had since the moment I learned that my father had died of a gunshot wound in an
abandoned warehouse in Newark. My father and mother for so many years was gone,
taken from me in a moment of hate or passion. I didn't know which.  As I sat in
the warm water there in the hotel suite I shared with Tristan, all I really
knew was that my father was murdered and gone forever.

I'd
cried so many tears since that night that I hadn't thought there weren't any
left in me. My emotions had traveled from sadness to rage to nothingness. I'd
felt so much that where it concerned my father's death, my heart was numb. But
Derek's words had pricked at that numbness like a needle in a dead limb and I'd
felt it.

"How
were the museums?"

I
opened my eyes and saw Tristan standing in the bathroom doorway. He smiled, but
his expression did a poor job of hiding the fact that whatever the problem was
that he had been dealing with all day was still plaguing his thoughts.

"I
missed having you there. It was nice, but it would have been better with you by
my side."

His
smile widened into a warm grin, and he walked over to crouch next to the tub.
"I know. I'm sorry. The Louvre, right?"

Chuckling
at his recollection of my words from that morning, I flicked a few drops of
water at him. "You better believe it. I'm holding you to that, you
know."

"I'm
counting on it."

He
leaned forward and kissed me gently on the forehead, making me feel loved and
cared for. Closing my eyes, I sighed. "Thank you."

"For
what?"

 I
looked up into his curious eyes. "For making me feel so loved."

Pushing
my hair behind my ear, he whispered, "Always."

His
touch was so comforting, and I leaned into his palm to rest my head. "Do
you ever find yourself thinking back to before your parents and brother were
taken from you? I can't get my father off my mind tonight."

Tristan
said nothing for a long time. I worried that I'd said something wrong by asking
about his family, but finally he quietly said, "Sometimes it's all I can
think of. There are things that happened when they were alive that still haunt
me today."

Something
in his voice told me he understood what I was feeling. The loss. The regret
that not having the chance to say goodbye brought with it.

He
kissed my head and leaned his against mine. "Did something happen
today?"

I
wanted to tell him about Derek, but what did I have to go on? The word of some
guy from Minnesota who'd made some vague claim? I didn't want to ruin our
vacation, and I could tell him everything when I found out some actual facts.

"No.
I just had a lot of time alone today and visiting art galleries reminds me of
when I was a little girl and my father would take me to the Philadelphia Museum
of Art. It was there that I first fell in love with art."

None
of that was a lie. I just hadn't told Tristan about Derek.

"He
sounds like a great father, Nina. You were lucky."

Things
were getting too serious, so I slid up against the back of the tub and took a
drink of wine. Forcing a smile, I said, "I was. So what's on the schedule
for tonight? A little dinner in and some TV with the ball and chain?"

He
raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I had something a little different in
mind, but if you'd rather watch TV..."

"No,
no. I can watch TV any night. It's not every night I'm in Venice. What do you
have in mind?"

His
face turned sheepish. "I know it's pretty clichéd, but I thought we'd take
a gondola ride."

I
couldn't help but smile. He really was so cute when he was romantic.
"That's so cool! Give me a few minutes and I'll get ready. A gondola ride!
I get to cross off another thing on my list of things to do before I die."

Nearly
leaping out of the tub, I raced to get ready, eager to experience what I'd only
seen in movies and paintings. It may have been clichéd, but I didn't care.
There was no way I was visiting Venice and not taking a gondola ride, and that
I'd be taking it with the man I loved was better than anything.

"Isn't
this romantic?" I cooed as the gondolier guided the boat past those great
Gothic buildings that lined the Grand Canal, the ones I'd looked out at from
our balcony the night before.

Tristan
slipped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close. "It's actually
really nice. I'd heard horrible things about the canal water, but this isn't
bad."

I
rolled my eyes at his understatement. "Nice? Isn't bad? You really know
how to seduce a girl."

Nuzzling
my neck, he whispered, "You want seduction? I'll give you seduction."

I
turned my head to catch his mouth in a kiss. He tasted like scotch, and I liked
my lips as I pulled away. "Promises, promises."

Our
gondolier eased his craft around another stopped gondola as Tristan whispered,
"Did you know that all gondoliers must wear black pants and a striped
shirt?"

I
looked our guide up and down and saw he was wearing that exact uniform.
"I'm impressed."

"Good.
But I feel compelled to tell you that the concierge at the hotel gave me that
tidbit of information," he admitted in a low, husky voice that hit me deep
inside, oddly enough considering what he was saying.

I
ran my hand up his thigh and licked my lips. "I love honestly in a man.
Now I'm even more impressed."

As
the gondola drifted to a stop, Tristan winked at me. "Time for that
seduction."

We
walked into the Piazza San Marco as the first drops of rain began to fall.
Tourists and locals headed for cover in the restaurants and hotels nearby,
leaving just a few of us alone in the enormous square. Puddles quickly formed
on the stone patio, forcing us to zigzag toward the Moorish style arches that
lined the piazza as the skies opened up above us.