Crash Into Me

by K. M. Scott

  For the moment, my ugly jealousy crawled back into the dark recesses of my mind and I rejoiced at the idea that Angelo was the one with the incredible taste. "No. He's doing a great job."

  Tristan put the newspaper on the coffee table and came to stand in front of me. Looking down, he ran his finger along my jaw line. "I'm sure Angelo will be happy to know my girlfriend approves of his choices."

  Girlfriend. I was his girlfriend.

  "Well, at least he is successful with his choices," I joked as I turned to go back to my work, pleased with that one word he'd said with such ease.

  "Okay, this time you're going to be blown away by my choices. I see what the problem was with the first group, but this will get the Tristan Stone seal of approval. I know it."

  To be honest, much of what I'd said was bluster, but I did want him to approve of my art choices. As much as I truly wished to succeed at my job, I wanted more to make Tristan as happy as he made me.

  I held my arm out like a hostess on a game show and introduced him to the thumbnails of a series of five watercolors of blue and white Mexican owls. Charming yet sophisticated, they were more in line with a southwestern motif and still helped to diminish the effect of the overwhelming gold found everywhere around me. Now all I had to do was convince Tristan they were as perfect as I thought they were.

  "Let me introduce you to the Mexican owls."

  He leaned down and rested his palms on the table as he studied the pictures of those sweet birds. I saw his eyes move slowly from left to right across the screen before he turned his head to look at me. "Okay. Tell me why these are perfect."

  "These are pictures of owl pottery from Mexico. Containing a number of different shades of blue from navy to royal blue along with pure white, they're examples of Mexican folk art, as can be seen in the floral motif painted on the part of the bird's body below his head. As we're in Texas, which has been heavily influenced by Mexican culture, the pictures of these pieces work with the area, and the blue and white colors are perfect to alleviate the overpowering gold your decorator seemed to fall in love with courtesy of your checkbook."

  His gaze never wavered from mine as I spoke, and when I was done, he looked back at the pictures and stood to his full height. "Very nice, Nina. Very nice. Thank you."

  As we were in work mode, I suspected that was all I was going to get. Perhaps I'd receive a bouquet of flowers tomorrow, though. That might be nice again, and this time I wouldn't throw them in the trash.

  "Thank you, sir," I said playfully. "I'm pleased you like my choices for your suite."

  "Sir?" he asked in a stern voice.

  My face warmed at his question, which told me I might have taken my teasing too far. "I was just playing around. You know. Lightening the mood a little."

  He looked down at the watch on his right wrist for the time and lifted his eyes to me. "It's five, so we're not working anymore. Are you hungry?"

  "Not really."

  "Good. I've decided we're flying back to New York early, so we'll take off in about an hour. My staff will make sure our bags are taken to the plane, so we best be on our way."

  "Tristan, I haven't packed anything. All of my things are all over the bathroom," I said in protest, uncomfortable with the idea of one of his people touching things like my razor and moisturizer.

  "I'll buy you replacements when we get back then."

  I wrinkled my nose at the thought of wasting money like that. "That's ridiculous. Why can't I just pack my things myself? Why would you spend money when you don't have to?"

  He lifted my chin with his fingertip and smiled at me. "I'd spend all I have if it made you happy, Nina."

  Wrapping my hand around his finger, I brought it to my mouth in a kiss. "You don't have to spend money on me like that. I mean, I love the clothes, and it was very sweet of you to buy me all that new shampoo and conditioner when I moved in, but you don't have to. I thought that wealthy people had money because they didn't spend it."

  "Wealthy people have money because they spend it wisely. I think buying things to make you happy is very wise."

  There was no point in fighting him on this. He had decided the issue, and I was expected to be content with it. In truth, I knew there were far worse things than a man buying me whatever made me happy whenever I wanted it.

  But the stubborn part of me still thought it foolish.

  "I'd be happy if you never bought me a thing again just knowing you love me."

  And as soon as the L word left my mouth, I felt like crawling into a hole. He'd never said he loved me—just written it—and the look on his face screamed that he hadn't meant what I'd hoped when he used it in his notes.

  That same look of fear I'd seen in his eyes a few times before returned, and he quickly looked away toward the bedroom. "Well, you better get your things packed so the bags can be ready. We're going to be late if we don't get moving."

  I'd done it. Ruined everything by using the L word too soon, and now I felt like a fool. I hurried into the bedroom to escape the look of discomfort in his eyes. He was probably thinking of how he could let me down easy. He could be sweet like that. Maybe he'd disappear back to the city, leaving me out in the country. Or maybe he'd suddenly have a lot of work functions to attend with the actresses, again leaving me alone out in the country.

  Whatever he would do, I cringed at what I'd done. I knew better than to introduce that word into a relationship so early. Nothing worked better to send a man running for the hills than to start talking about love this soon, and I'd gone and done it. What an ass I was!

  I quickly packed my things and returned to the living room. Tristan stood waiting, and as we left, I had the feeling whatever progress we'd made while we'd been in Dallas was gone, blacked out by my silly slip of the tongue.

  Men were funny when it came to expressing what they felt, but a woman knew the truth about the man she was with if she cared to pay attention. Tristan was very much the same man he'd been with me all along as we rode on the plane and the drive back to the house. He laughed at my forced jokes, which was nice since I felt like I was walking on eggshells, and even held my hand as we rode from JFK to his house upstate.

  But there was something different about him. It was subtle, but it was there.

  By the time we got back to the house, all I wanted to do was skulk into my bedroom with my tail between my legs and hope that a little time apart would repair any damage I'd done. I wouldn't have blamed him if he wanted to escape to the city. He seemed as interested as I was in going off on his own and made some excuse about having work to do as we walked through the front door.

  A quick shower and I was ready to crawl under the covers. I changed into my t-shirt and shorts and flopped down on the bed, physically and emotionally exhausted. How he travelled like he did baffled me. Just the trip to his penthouse and then to Dallas had worn me out, but I knew what I was feeling was more in my heart than in my bones.

  Regret was exhausting. And for two days and two nights it nearly wore me out. I busied myself with researching possible art groupings for future suites and penthouses, just trying to keep my mind off what had happened. Noticeably absent were any flowers in my room when I woke up either morning.

  On the third day, I checked my email and saw that Jordan had sent me a message. I stared at my laptop's screen in terror, praying to God that she hadn't sent me anymore links to pictures of Tristan and stunning women. Finally, after a long tug of war between wanting to know what she'd sent and pure, unadulterated dread at the thought of him with someone else, I clicked on the little envelope icon and breathed a tremendous sigh of relief. No Tristan and hot women, thankfully. Just an email to tell me I needed to pay my cell phone bill. Seems I'd forgotten to pay it and the fine people at the phone company had been good enough to send me a reminder that had ended up in her mailbox that morning.

  I tapped out a quick thank you email, making sure I let her know that everything was so much better now between Tristan and me. Lying to my be
st friend made me feel worse, but I didn't know how to explain that I'd actually succeeded in finding out he wasn't with other women only to ruin everything with a rookie dating mistake.

  Despite not having even a bar of service out there, I had to keep my cell. I may have been out in the country, but I wasn't back in time. A few clicks and I was at my bank's online site with the hope that I had enough in my account to pay my bill. Poor and I were long time friends since college, but if Tristan had deposited the $20,000 advance in my account, I'd be in better shape than ever before.

  I logged in and for the first time in my life, a number took my breath away. My eyes were glued to the page for so long they began to dry out. I rubbed them and opened them again to see my bank account had a balance of $25,085.47.

  There must have been some mistake. Over and over I told myself those exact words as I clicked to check the source of the deposits. One for $20,000 had been made the day I'd signed my contract and one the day after we returned from Dallas for $5000. But what was that for? I wasn't due to be paid for my first month for weeks.

  A knock on my door that night shook me out of feeling sorry for myself and my lovelife woes, and I opened it to see Tristan standing there in just the silk pajama bottoms I'd seen draped over a chair in his room.

  "I'd hoped you'd be in my room," he said with that innocence that sometimes seeped into his voice.

  I looked away and bit my lip nervously. "I just figured you'd want to be alone. I mean...well, I thought maybe you'd be back at the penthouse instead of staying here."

  "Why?"

  His question made me turn to look at him, and he seemed genuinely confused by what I thought. There was a gentleness in his eyes that made me want to say what was on my mind, so I came clean.

  "I'm so sorry I said that back in Dallas, Tristan. I didn't mean to put words in your mouth. It's only been a short time that we've known each other. I mean, it feels much longer since we've spent so much time together, but..." I let my sentence trail off and finally said, "I didn't mean that I actually thought you felt that way."

  He extended his hand and held it out for me to take it. "Come with me."

  I took a deep breath and slowly lifted my hand to place it in his. He closed his fingers around mine and began leading me to his bedroom. We said nothing as we walked, until finally he closed the door behind me and whispered, "You belong here with me. And you don't have to be sorry for anything you said."

  For the moment, remaining silent seemed like the best idea. What could I say? That I wished he really felt that way about me so I wouldn't feel ridiculous for falling in love with someone after only two weeks? I knew how that would sound. I mean, I'd been the person who'd told friends time and again that it took months or even years to truly fall in love with someone and here I was full on, head over heels in love with Tristan Stone, no less.

  He sat on the edge of the bed and looked over at me like he wondered what I was doing all the way over near the door. The chair near the window was empty, so I sat there, so not wanting to talk about this anymore.

  "I think we should talk."

  Ugh. There it was. The international signal for what's about to come next is going to rock your world. I said nothing while my stomach dropped and I swallowed hard. I had no idea what he'd say, but as the seconds ticked by and he still hadn't said a word, the room began to feel like it was shrinking around me. The fun house feeling was anything but fun.

  "This has been moving pretty fast, Nina. I didn't intend on things getting to where they are so quickly."

  It was so much worse than anything I'd imagined. He was dancing around the elephant in the room, but it was no use. He was breaking up with me. This explained the extra five grand. That was my parting gift, like the losers got on game shows.

  I wanted to run away and hide. Standing up, I tried to steady my legs and get the hell out of there, but I didn't take three steps toward the door before they gave out and I was in a heap on the floor. All I could think was that was the perfect moment to be struck by lightning and disintegrated into dust.

  "Nina, open your eyes. Talk to me."

  Tristan's voice was laced with concern, and I opened my eyes to see a matching look on his face. Or maybe it was pity. Either way, I was still there in one piece and he was leaning over me.

  I propped myself up on my elbows and plastered a smile on my face. "I'm fine. Just slipped. No big deal."

  Scooping me up from the floor, he lifted me in his arms and onto the bed. He was so gentle, but I was even more convinced that he was breaking up with me. Now he probably just felt bad.

  "Are you okay?"

  Silently, I nodded. I was fine. The same old Nina I'd always been and always would be. It had been fun and the thought of being Tristan Stone's girlfriend had been very seductive, but it was over now.

  "Tristan, I think I should go back to my room now. I don't feel so well."

  "You should stay here where I can be sure you're okay," he said so sweetly with that tender smile that melted my heart.

  I looked up at him and suddenly everything came flowing out of me. "Why? I know what you're going to do. My falling shouldn't stop you. I understand. Guys like you don't need or want just one woman. You can have anyone in the world, so why stick with just one?"

  His eyebrows lifted as I spoke and he grimaced. I guess the truth hurt. Well, I understood that.

  "What are you talking about?"

  "Don't play dumb with me. You're breaking up with me. Don't worry. I'll be fine. It's not like we were together for years. I won't make any trouble for you either."

  "Oh. Well, that's good. I wouldn't want to have to sic my lawyers on you."

  Before I could tell him that I thought he was acting really shitty, he smiled and smoothed my hair from my face. "I wasn't breaking up with you. I just wanted to talk after the awkward business the other day."

  I sat up and stared at him, confused. He wasn't breaking up with me? "What do you mean? I thought I scared you off with the L word."

  He sat down next to me and hung his head. "I have to admit I did freak out a little when you said it. Sorry about that."

  "I just said it because you kept writing it in your notes. It wasn't like it was a big deal."

  Tristan turned to face me. "It is a big deal. I don't say I love you to every woman I date."

  "That's good to hear," I mumbled.

  "I don't think one word is a reason for two people to stop spending time together, Nina."

  "I guess not." Sitting up, I blew the air out of my cheeks. "So what do we do now?"

  "We could forget anything like this ever happened and continue like we were," he said in a hopeful voice.

  "What were we doing, Tristan? You meet me one night, convince me to work for you, make me move in here, all the while sleeping with me. I haven't dated thousands of men, but I can safely assume most people don't call that dating."

  "I'm not most people, Nina." He leaned toward me and pressed his forehead to mine. "I need you to trust me. This is the only way I can do this. Can you trust me?"

  I closed my eyes and imagined not having Tristan Stone in my life. Suddenly, my chest felt hollow, like my heart had been drained of every drop of blood and all that was left was an empty, useless part of me. I didn't want to lose Tristan. I wasn't sure what this was we had together, but being with him was so much better than not.

  "Yeah. I can."

  He kissed me long and deep, making my legs go weak all over again, but for a good reason this time. We may not have been at the place where we said we loved each other, but it felt like it.

  And I loved that.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The summer went by and every day Tristan and I grew closer and closer. By the time we'd known each other for four months, I could honestly say I loved him. I loved the way he left flowers in my room some mornings and surprised me with jewelry other days. I loved how he slowly withdrew from attending events with the actresses to spend time watching movies with m
e.

  I loved how attentive he was, even if I didn't understand it sometimes. Like why after he shot down one of my choices for a penthouse or suite he always deposited more money in my bank account. Or why he made sure Jenson watched over me when I went back to Brooklyn to see Jordan. I'd asked him about these things once or twice, but he always just smiled and said something about how much he enjoyed taking care of me.

  It was a comfortable existence, even if it wasn't the type of life many women would like. I understood not to ask questions about certain things, and I didn't. It was a trade off I was willing to make.

  The summer night air grew chillier, signaling autumn's coming in upstate New York. It had been a long, hot summer and I welcomed the change fall would bring. As the leaves began to slowly turn the vibrant golds and reds so typical of the trees in the Northeast, Tristan announced at dinner one evening that we would be leaving to see another suite. It had been over a month since he and I had traveled to San Francisco on what had ended up feeling like the trip of a lifetime, so I couldn't imagine what could top that.

  "We'll be gone for at least a week, so be sure to tell Jordan," he said casually as he poured himself a drink.

  I couldn't help but smile. "I think it's really great that you don't want me to forget about her."

  "Why would I? She's your friend. Plus, I owe her. If it wasn't for her information, I wouldn't have been able to surprise you that night."

  How long ago that night seemed now. Then we'd been basically strangers, learning those first things about one another. Now, just months later, we were like an old married couple eating dinner each night at five, laying in bed late on Sunday mornings, and bickering about which movie to watch on Saturday nights.

  I stood behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist, pressing my cheek to his back. "Where are we going?"

  Covering my hands with his, he turned his head to face me. "Venice."

  I moved around him and stood looking up in amazement. "Venice? As in canals, gondola rides, and the Doge's Palace?"