Crash Into Me (5 page)

If
he said anything that even remotely sounded like the job I had at the Anderson
Gallery, I was going to punch him right in that beautiful mouth.

"I
have a curator, but would assistant curator work?"

I
understood the words he was saying, but my brain seemed to have short circuited
because I was unable to form an answer. Would assistant curator work? Hell,
yes!

He
was all smiles, but I wasn't so sure. Putting my hand up, I said, "Wait.
This all sounds too good to be true. What hotels do you own?"

With
a sense of pride, he answered, "Richmont. I assume you've heard of
them."

"And
you want to offer me a job as an assistant curator at the Richmont in Manhattan?"

"Yes."

"And
what do I have to do for this job?"

"Whatever
an assistant curator does."

I
looked up into those beautiful eyes and wondered if he was just playing dumb or
if it was possible he was really that obtuse. "You know what I mean. What
do I have to do to get that job?"

Then
I waited for it. There was always a catch. As my father always said, "If
it sounds too good to be true, it probably is." Tristan's response
certainly wasn't what I expected, though.

"You'll
have to pass one test. After that, the job is yours."

"What
kind of test?" I asked, wary of where he was going with this. I didn't
mind taking tests, but something told me he had something else in mind than a
paper and pencil exam.

"I
want you to tell me what picture I should put up on the wall in my home."

"The
one all the way upstate?" I asked, praying that I didn't have to take that
drive again tonight. The buzz from the two beers I'd drunk earlier had worn
off, and the thought of speeding to the middle of nowhere again didn't thrill
me, even if it was with Tristan Stone.

"No.
Come with me," he answered as he took my hand and led me to his car parked
at the end of the block.

I
went as he ordered and let him take me to the Richmont downtown. I'd seen the
hotel from the street once or twice, but seeing it from the owner's point of
view was an entirely different experience. A valet parked the car as we were
shown into a private elevator lined with mirrors that traveled exclusively to
the penthouse. I stared straight ahead at the mirror on the elevator door, my
gaze drifting down over the figure standing next to me. I noticed he seemed
bigger than I'd thought he'd been the other night, with the top of my head
reaching only his broad shoulders. His face was placid, and even now as he
stood silently staring at the mirror in front of us, he was beautiful with
chiseled features and powerful body. But what made Tristan stunning were those
deep, soulful eyes. Warm brown eyes the shade of melted milk chocolate I could
have spent the rest of time getting lost in. I looked for any sign that the man
from Page Six was there beside me, but the Tristan I got to see was still with
me. Quiet, but gentle and drop dead sexy.

The
elevator doors opened up to a penthouse unlike anything I'd ever seen.
Tristan's home was something right out of a design magazine. I walked around
with my mouth agape at the opulence of his place. He seemed almost
disinterested in his own home, though, except for the one bare spot on the wall
in his bedroom. That seemed of the utmost importance to him.

Pointing
at it, he asked, "What do you think should go there?"

I
stared at the wall as my mind quickly went as empty as the blank space.
"Is this the test?"

"Yes."

"I
don't know. I'd have to spend some time examining the rest of the decor. You
don't want just anything hanging there. If that were the case, the poker
playing dogs picture would work."

He
chuckled but wasn't going to be put off. "All you must do is answer the
question correctly and the assistant curator job is yours, Nina."

He
stood so close that my mind went from blank to muddled. All I could think of
was the luxurious feel of his suit as his arm brushed the back of my hand and
the sexy smell of his cologne filling my nose. I turned away from looking at
the spot to see him staring down at me. I could think of nothing, but I blurted
out, "A Cooper," knowing in my heart that wasn't what he wanted to
hear.

His
expression showed his disapproval—or was it disappointment?—and he turned away,
shaking his head. "No."

I
had no way of disagreeing, but even now as I knew I'd failed the test and lost
out on the dream job of my life, I still couldn't think of an appropriate
choice. Dejected, I looked up at him and quietly said, "If you can just
take me home, please."

He
pulled his phone from his suit coat pocket and spoke into it in a flat tone.
"I need a car downstairs to take a young lady to Sunset Park."

Whatever
the person on the other end said I had no idea, but in seconds the elevator
door opened and Tristan ushered me toward the exit. He said nothing, and I got
into the elevator, sad that I'd failed the test and lost my chance but also sad
that I'd let him down. It was strange, but although I barely knew him, I was
uncomfortable with him being unhappy.

The
doors began to close, taking him away, and I pushed back the tears welling up
in my eyes. Just before he disappeared from sight, I whispered, "I'm
sorry."

And
then he was gone.

If
I could have called in sick from work on Wednesday, I would have. Just going to
the gallery reminded me of him, and even more, it reminded me of how I'd
utterly failed at my one chance to really do something in the art world. By the
time the day was over, I was committed to spending the night in bed with ice
cream and a sad movie so I'd feel justified in crying my eyes out.

Jordan had end of year conferences, so the apartment was all mine to mope around to my
heart's content. It was strange, but I felt empty inside after what had
happened with Tristan. I knew it should have been over the chance he'd given
me, but it was because I'd lost him. But had he ever really been mine to lose?
I had no idea. I just knew that as I walked around the apartment aimlessly I
was missing him.

By
seven o'clock, I had devoured a pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream and was
ready for the DVD player to deliver enough sad love stories that I'd cry the
memory of Tristan Stone right out of my heart. I needed true love separated by
horrible circumstances and life changing romance.

A
knock at the door just before the first movie began slowed my mourning, and as
I padded barefoot down the hallway to the front door, I hoped it wasn't Alex,
who'd called three times since the night before. I didn't have the answer no
matter what the question was he wanted to ask.

I
opened the door, and instead of Alex, there stood Tristan. My heart leaped in
my chest at the sight of him. Dressed impeccably in a suit, as always, he was a
sight for sore eyes. I knew I shouldn't be thrilled to see him, but I was.

"Come
for a ride with me. I want to talk."

And
with that everything that had happened between us came rushing back. All the
confusion. All the frustration. And now, all the anger at how he'd toyed with
me.

"Go
back to your penthouse, Tristan. Find someone else to do your charity work
on."

I
threw every bit of power I had into slamming the door in his face, but he
jammed his foot in the opening. It pushed back against my hands as he tried to
stick his face in through the crack to speak.

"I
just want us to talk. What can that hurt?"

"Go
away. Your brand of talking just confuses me and then I feel bad after," I
said as I pushed on the door to no avail.

"Please."

And
there it was. The magic word. Please. God, my father's good parenting had come
back to haunt me yet again. Something in the word please had a way of making
any argument I had melt away.

I
stopped pushing on the door and opened it up to see him staring at me with
those brown eyes of his. As usual, they told me more than his words had, and
now they were pleading with me to go with him one more time.

Even
if I wanted to say no, which I didn't, I couldn't have. Whatever power he had
over me I just couldn't fight it.

Hanging
my head in resignation, I welcomed him in. "Give me a minute to get
dressed."

As
I walked to my room, I thought about how much I wished I could say no. It was
no good that even before a man kissed me that he had this much control over my
heart and mind. I couldn't imagine what he'd be able to do if we ever slept
together.

He
drove out of the city, and I knew where we were going. Back to the middle of
nowhere, but this time my fear wasn't that he would kill me and leave me in
pieces on the side of the road. No, this time I was afraid he'd already taken
the most important piece of me and there was nothing I could do about it.

Chapter Four

We
pulled up to the house he showed me the other night, and he turned off the car.
He hadn't said ten words the entire way there, but now he turned to face me and
said with a smile, "I didn't want things to end like they did last
night."

His
voice sounded sincere and made me want to make things better. "I'm sorry I
didn't know the right answer."

"That's
not important. The test was unfair. I'm the one who should be
apologizing."

"Why
did you bring me here, Tristan?"

"Let's
go in."

As
we walked toward the front door, he took my hand in his. His fingers enveloped
mine and my hand seemed to disappear into his beneath his jacket. I felt small
next to him now.

And
then I looked up and what stood in front of me took my breath away. Massive
white marble columns held up a front portico a full story high and flanked by
the tallest evergreen trees I'd ever seen. A huge center section of the house
broke off into a wing on the left and right sides, each the size of a full home
itself. A second floor the same size as the main floor sat below a blue-grey
color roof forty feet above the ground.

"Wow...your
house is..." I stammered out as I stopped walking and craned my neck to
take it all in.

Tristan
smiled at me and my amazement. "I'm glad you like it. It's got twenty
acres too. Come see the inside."

Just
like his penthouse, the country house looked like something straight out of a
magazine. A massive wrought iron and glass light fixture hung from the twenty
foot ceiling in the wide entryway, and the beige marble floor gleamed beneath
my feet. The walls were painted a cream color and looked like old world
plaster. The entire room was simply stunning, and it was just the foyer!

Room
after room unfolded before my eyes, each one unique and gorgeous. By the time
he'd finished showing me the main area of the house, I'd seen four fireplaces
already. Each room came with an explanation about how he planned to change it
or what he wanted to keep, but I couldn't help but wonder what one person would
do with all this space. I imagined him wandering through the rooms lonely and
looking for someone to talk to.

He
led me back to the main entryway where the home branched off into two wings.
"Is anyone else here or will you live here alone?" Just asking the
question made me sad.

He
didn't seem bothered by it, though. "I have a man who handles things, a
gardener who moved into the carriage house already, and a few other people who
will be working for me here."

"Oh,
so you won't be living alone?"

He
didn't answer and pointed toward the left side of the house. "I want to
show you that wing. I think you'll like it."

"Tristan,
how many bedrooms does this house have?"

"Six."

Six
bedrooms for one person? "Does that include rooms for the people who work
for you?"

Shaking
his head, he smiled. "No. They don't count."

He
continued to talk about where he was taking me, and I wondered if he meant the
bedrooms didn't count in the total or the people who worked for him didn't.
After a hallway that left the main part of the house, we entered what looked
like an apartment. Well, not an apartment like mine but one that someone like
him would live in.

"Do
you like it?"

I
looked around at the bedroom, which was no less than four times the size of
mine and decorated impeccably, and couldn't help but laugh. "I can't
imagine anyone not liking it."

His
voice turned serious. "I don't care if anyone else likes it. I want to
know if you like it, Nina."

I
was startled by his tone. What did it matter if I liked a room in his house?
"It's very nice."

This
was the thing that confused me about Tristan. He never seemed to act the way
other people would. He'd taken me for a drive twice, and neither time we'd done
much talking, as if sitting next to someone and not saying anything was normal.
Now he'd showed me his house and seemed oddly concerned that I like it. Why?

I
wanted to ask, but I doubted I'd get a straight answer anyway. That definitely
wasn't his way.

He
led me back to see the indoor pool, and I fell in love. Even if we only stayed
whatever we were at that moment, I hoped I'd get to swim in that pool. It had
been designed to look like an enormous Roman bath with a sixty foot pool and
sauna. The back wall of the room was an exquisite mosaic tile design that
portrayed Neptune riding in his undersea chariot led by a team of sea horses.
Artistically, the varied shades of blue and white in the intricate mosaic were
stunning. The other three walls of the pool area were filled with floor to
ceiling windows along with four sets of double doors that I was sure flooded
the area with gorgeous sunlight in the afternoons.

I
looked down at the imported Italian tile on the pool's deck and then back up at
him. "It's gorgeous, Tristan. Your house is beautiful."

The
smile I received in return for my compliment was warm and sweet. "I'm glad
you like it. Are you hungry?"

"No."

"Why
don't we have a drink then?"

That
was an idea I liked. Spending time around him made me nervous and uneasy, so
hopefully a drink would calm my nerves. "I'd love a drink. Thanks."

He
flashed another warm smile and took my hand to lead me to a large sitting room.
Compared to the open and airy feeling of the pool area, this room had a darker
vibe. Dark cherry wood moldings and ten foot tall built-in bookcases gave the
room a heavier feel. As he poured us drinks, I looked around and noticed
examples of fine artwork lined the walls. He had impeccable taste. Art hundreds
of years old sat beside contemporary pieces perfectly matched.

So
why the test at the penthouse the night before?

This
was who Tristan Stone was. Contradictions on top of unanswered questions. And
the more I knew about him, the more I wanted to know the answers.

He
extended his hand to offer me a seat on the extra deep sofa and handed me my
drink. I took a sip from my glass and felt the warmth from the liquor course
through my body. Surprised by its almost instant effect, I looked at him and
murmured, "Oh. What is this?"

"Scotch."

For
the first time since I'd met him in that alley way, his body relaxed as he sat
next to me. Maybe it was the double Lagavulin he had in his hand or maybe it
was that we were finally getting to know one another. Whatever it was, he wore
relaxed well.

By
the time my glass was half empty, my drink had definitely relaxed me, and my
curiosity got the better of me, along with my inhibitions. I looked at him
sitting there in his white dress shirt and dark suit and without thinking, I
asked, "Why are you always in a suit and tie?"

His
eyes grew slightly wider for just a moment, and then he was that relaxed man
again. "You don't like me like this?" he asked in a teasing tone.

"Oh
no, I didn't mean that," I answered, afraid that I'd offended him. "I
like you very much like that."

Now
his smile wasn't that warm grin I'd seen just a few minutes earlier but a
mischievous, almost devilish one. He took a sip of his drink and slid his
tongue across his lower lip, making it glisten.

"Maybe
you're right. It wouldn't hurt for me not to wear a tie," he said as he
began to unknot it. Slipping it from around his neck, he let it slide out of
his hand onto the table in front of us. "And no tie means I don't need the
top button done either."

He
opened his shirt and with just one button undone he looked like an entirely
different man. His dress shirt sat crisply and the collar framed his strong
neck perfectly. I had to fight the urge to lean over and press my lips to the
part that had been covered by the shirt and tie and slide my tongue up over his
Adam's Apple. What would his skin taste like, I wondered? Would it taste like
the soap he used or the cologne he wore or would it have a hint of salt as a
man's skin often did?

Nervous
and needing a distraction, I leaned forward to take the deep blue silk tie off
the table. Running it through my fingers, I asked, "How do you tie a tie?
I never learned."

He
placed his glass on the table and slid the tie from my hands. "Come. Sit
between my legs and I'll show you."

I
stood and turned to see him spread his legs wider to accommodate me. Nervous
but suddenly desperate to be close to him, I sat down in front of him but on
the edge of the couch, unsure of myself.

"Move
back."

I
did as he commanded and moved back until my shoulders touched his chest.
Sitting ramrod straight, I waited for him to begin, anticipating how wonderful
it would feel as his hands slid around my neck.

He
leaned forward and moved my hair over to one shoulder. "The first thing is
to make sure all of this is out of the way."

My
neck was exposed, and as he spoke, his warm breath danced across my skin. I
closed my eyes and willed my body to relax, hoping he couldn't hear my heart
nearly pounding through my chest.

His
voice was low and husky in my ear. "Lean back against me, Nina."

I
slowly let myself fall back against him, feeling his hard chest against my
back. His head was next to mine, his mouth positioned next to my ear so I felt
every breath he took in and let out.

"The
first thing to know is that there's only one kind of knot you need to master.
The Windsor knot."

"Oh.
I thought there were others," my voice squeaked out.

"Maybe
for boys, but men tie the Windsor knot."

The
way he said the word 'men' made my stomach flutter. In truth, I'd probably
dated more boys than men, but Tristan Stone was definitely a man.

His
arms came over my shoulders until he rested his hands near my collarbone, each
one holding an end of the tie. "Now pay attention because I'm going to
want you to show me you can do it after this," he whispered in my ear.

Unfortunately,
the sensual timbre of his voice combined with the feel of his hands so close to
my breasts made paying attention impossible. I thought he said something about
the wide end and the narrow end, and he may have said something about looping,
but I was lost in the experience and couldn't have cared less about the actual
tying of the tie.

"Finally,
tighten and you're done."

I
opened my eyes and looked down to see his hands so big resting on the tie below
a perfectly done Windsor knot, his large stainless steel watch heavy against
me. My lower abdomen tightened at the feel of his fingers on my body, and a
delicious ache settled into between my legs.

How
wonderful it would feel to have those hands gliding over my skin, those fingers
touching my body.

He
slid the tie from my neck and undid all his work. "Now you show me what
you learned."

I
attempted to take the tie from his hand, but he pulled it away and whispered,
"On me. Turn around and sit toward me."

Nervous
fear shot through me as I stood up, and I hoped I'd be able to turn around
without my legs giving out. The dress I wore only fell to the middle of my
thighs, so when I straddled him, it was likely to ride up so far my panties
would show. I didn't care about that so much as him knowing that I was already
dripping wet just from sitting there pressed up against him.

Taking
a deep breath, I turned around and climbed on top of his lap. He stared into my
eyes, unnerving me, but something held me firm in his gaze. His hard cock
pressed against the front of his pants and my damp panties. There was no way he
didn't know how excited he'd made me.

I
took the tie from his hand and slid it around his strong neck, even as my
fingers trembled at the feel of him underneath them. Trying to hide my ignorance
of my task, I wrapped the wide end of the tie around the narrow end, but it was
no use. I didn't know what came next.

Dropping
the two ends of silk, I looked down to avoid his gaze. "I'm sorry. I don't
know how to do this."

"You
didn't listen when I told you how to?" he asked in a voice that was as
seductive as it was stern.

Shaking
my head, I continued to look down at the untied ends of the blue fabric laying
against his shirt. "I couldn't. You were so close, and it was impossible
to pay attention to what you were saying."

He
slid his hands down my back and cupped my ass to pull me into him, grinding my
soaked panties into the thin fabric separating his cock from me. Kneading my
flesh through my dress, he whispered near my mouth, "I love how honest you
are, Nina. It makes me want to be honest with you."

I
wasn't sure how to answer, but it didn't matter. As my head swum from the
sensations he'd created in me, he pressed his mouth to mine and kissed me. His
lips were soft yet demanding, and I eagerly kissed him back, seeking a release
of that sweet ache, but his kiss only increased the feeling, making me want
more.

He
nudged his hips off the couch, sliding his cock over my sensitive clit, and I
couldn't stop myself from moaning into his mouth. I didn't want him to think he
had this effect on me so soon, but I was powerless. I wanted him so badly at
that moment, I would have done anything to keep his hands on my body.

Unable
to stop myself, I began to timidly move my hips to ride him, still fully clothed
but needing so much to come. I didn't care that he wasn't inside me or even
that I looked too eager. I wanted him to get me off, even if it was just
rubbing against his cock through his pants.

He
had other ideas, though. Pressing his palms against the tops of my thighs, he
stopped me from grinding against him, and I moaned a needy sound into his
mouth. God, I wanted him!

His
thumbs slid under the bottom of my panties and touched my bare skin, making my
thighs quiver in anticipation. Dragging the pads of his thumbs up and down over
my pussy, he was careful to avoid my swollen clit, driving me mad with desire.