Crash into Me (Heart of Stone #1)(48)
Author: K.M. Scott

By late afternoon, I hadn’t found anything and Tristan was set to be home any time. I had to find something to show him. Even if he vetoed my idea, it was better than letting him down completely. Another quick inspirational talk with myself and I was determined to find something to show for my day’s work.

After another exhaustive search, a purple and gold circle print by a Miami artist that would work perfectly was what I finally came up with. To be honest, I was pretty sure Tristan would give it a thumbs down, but at least it was something.

Satisfied, I bookmarked the page at the gallery and closed my laptop just in time to see him enter the bedroom. Whatever he’d been dealing with had taken a toll on him as I’d never seen his face look so drawn and tired.

"Hey! Somebody stole all my things and then left them in here, oddly enough," I joked as he sat down in the high backed chair near the window.

Tristan loosened his tie and smiled. "That’s what I love most about you, you know that? When nothing or no one can make me smile, you can." He leaned his head back against the chair and closed his eyes as he let out heavy sigh.

"Tough day?"

"Too tough."

Walking over to behind him, I leaned forward and slid my hands over his shoulders. They were tight and knotted and almost up near his ears. Slowly, I began kneading his stressed muscles, whispering in his ear, "I thought men like you didn’t have to deal with the everyday hassles we ordinary people do."

He groaned low and deep. "No, we have to deal with bigger hassles."

"Want to talk about it?"

Tristan shook his head. "Nope. Tell me about your day." He arched back to look at me. "You liked my surprise?"

I leaned down to kiss his forehead. "Very much. And your note. Would you like to see what I came up with for Miami."

"Later." He held my hands on his shoulders. "Tell me what you did other than work and don’t stop the massage. That feels good."

"Jordan emailed me. I’m going to stop over to see her tomorrow. She says someone sent me an official looking envelope."

I felt his shoulders tighten under my hands, even as he sat with his eyes closed. "Are you expecting something official?"

Chuckling, I pressed into his muscles, kneading even more deeply. "No. I can’t imagine who would send me anything official. The last time I got anything from the government or a lawyer was years ago after my father’s death."

"Maybe the IRS has a bone to pick with you," he joked.

"Don’t say that. I’ve heard horror stories about being audited."

He laughed at me. "Nina, I don’t think the IRS is auditing you, but if they are, just let me know and I’ll have someone take care of it. It’s not something to worry about."

This was that attention to detail thing I loved. An IRS audit would make me shake in my shoes and stress out for weeks, but he just took it all in stride and made me feel like if it happened, he’d handle it. I could get used to that.

I pressed my lips to his ear and kissed him, nuzzling his neck. "I love how you do that."

"Do what?"

"Just take care of things. I do love a man who takes care of business."

He tilted his head to look up at me. "What kind of men have you been dating?"

I returned to massaging his tired muscles and sheepishly admitted the truth. "The wrong kind, obviously."

He groaned softly as I hit a tender spot where his shoulders met his neck. "I’m glad I took care of that then."

"I’m going to see her after school tomorrow. I should be home by the time you get home for dinner."

He sat quietly as I attempted to ease the stress from his body. I loved these moments when it was so clear I made him as happy as he made me. After a few minutes, he spoke up, as if he’d been thinking about my last words. "We can meet at the penthouse so you wouldn’t have to take that ride in and out of the city."

I kissed him on the cheek. "No, I’d rather come back here, if it’s all the same."

Tristan turned his head to look at me, his eyebrows raised. "You mean you’d rather come back to this out of the way house in the middle of nowhere?"

Leveling my gaze at him, I stopped my hands’ work and grinned. Rogers had obviously mentioned my comment from that night we’d chatted outside. "Yes. If you must know, I’ve grown to appreciate this house, even though it’s a bit secluded. I like to think of it as our home."

He took my hands from his shoulders and brought them to his lips for a kiss. "I can’t tell you how happy that makes me, Nina."

The unspoken reality that my six-month contract was almost up hung in the air like a heaviness that pressed down on us. I hadn’t mentioned it because I feared what he might say. Even now, after all we’d shared together, he was still a mystery to me in many ways. I’d expected him to say something about it ending soon, but as each day passed, he was silent on the matter, as if he’d forgotten.

I’d just as soon have had him forget, to be honest. What if he was able to let me go as easily as firing any other employee? In my heart, I knew he loved me and no longer thought of me as merely someone who worked for him, but in the past few weeks I’d sensed something between us holding him back from me. I wanted to believe it was whatever he was dealing with at work, but a tiny fear sat in the back of my mind whispering that no matter what we’d been to one another, when the six months was up, so was our time together.

Pushing that out of my head, I said, "So it’s settled. I’ll visit Jordan and then be back so we can have dinner. Maybe tomorrow night can be pizza night?"

"Tony’s?" he asked with a smile in his voice.

I stroked the hair near his nape, loving its softness. Bowing my head, I ran my lips over it and whispered, "I like that."

"Okay. Tony’s at six. It’s a date."

"A date," I said as I kissed along his neck to just below his left ear. "I’ll be there."

Chapter Eighteen

The next day went by quickly as I proudly showed off my choices for the Miami hotel, which Tristan vetoed as I suspected he would, saying he liked the artist but not that particular circle piece. So I continued my search. It was more difficult than I’d anticipated, but when I contacted the artist’s representative and told her I was looking to purchase one of Delgado’s purple and gold series for the Richmont hotel in Miami, she was far nicer than I’d expected, even offering to have him sign the piece we chose.

The old saying really was true. Money did talk.

By mid-afternoon, I was feeling triumphant about my new acquisition and couldn’t wait to tell Tristan about it at dinner, even if it meant breaking the "no work after five" rule. It was a breezy early October afternoon, so I dressed in a dark red dress that fell to right above my knees and black pumps, a celebration outfit of sorts and one I was sure Tristan would love for our date. As I looked at myself in the mirror in our bedroom, a decadent idea popped into my mind. Sexy stockings and a garter belt would be even better.