I turned around and there was Tristan standing behind me near the entrance of the bar and sticking out like a sore thumb in a suit and tie. Tristan looked around as if he'd never seen the inside of a bar, his expression a mix of curiosity and focus. I watched as he scanned the bar area and then turned his attention toward the back room where I stood stunned to see him.
His gaze met my surprised stare and he smiled that same smile he'd given me nights before as I'd tried to get him to give me a straight answer. Jordan said something behind me about pool or something, but the sound of my heartbeat pounding in my ears drowned much of it out. I stood as if my feet were nailed to the ground and unable to move as I watched him walk toward me in a way that made him look like he was gliding across the floor.
By the time he reached me, I had forgotten there were even other people in the room. He was that mesmerizing.
"Nina."
True to form, he said little but his eyes spoke volumes. As I struggled to form a coherent sentence in my mind, I looked into those gorgeous brown eyes of his and saw a flicker of apprehension. Everything else about him appeared calm and confident, but his eyes hinted at some kind of fear.
Was he afraid I wouldn't talk to him? Why?
"Tristan. What are you doing here?"
"I'm here to see you."
I couldn't help but chuckle. "I figured that. I can't imagine you're acquainted with anyone else in this bar."
His gaze never wavered from me, and he asked quietly, "Can we talk somewhere?"
He wanted to talk more. Okay. Smiling, I found the ability to move my legs again and guided him toward one of the wooden booths on the far side of the room. We sat down across from one another, and I realized I hadn't even said anything to Jordan or Alex. No matter. She'd understand, and I'd apologize to her later.
"How did you know I'd be here?"
He settled his gaze on me. "Do you come here a lot?"
"Every Tuesday. But that doesn't answer the question of how you knew I'd be here."
"There's a billiards tournament in Las Vegas every year that I sometimes play in. You should come with me next time. It's late summer. We could make a week of it."
With every word he spoke, I grew more confused. Why was he talking like we were a couple? Now we were taking trips together? Shouldn't we at least have dinner first? Or maybe sex? God, just the thought of it made me squeeze my thighs together in sweet agony.
"Tristan, what do you want?"
"You."
My stomach dropped and a rush of excitement hit me between my legs. He wanted me.
"You want me for...?"
"You were an art major in college. You'd know a lot about what pieces I should buy, wouldn't you?"
My excitement fizzled back to confusion. "Yes, I majored in art history. I minored in painting. What do you want me for that has to do with that?"
"Why don't you come for a walk with me?" he asked, more as a command than a question as he stood from the booth.
My curiosity was piqued, even if my ego was dinged. I would have likely said yes to anything he asked, so I walked over to where Jordan was standing and quickly whispered, "I'll be back. He wants to go for a walk."
Pulling me aside, she leaned in and asked, "Is everything okay? What does he want?"
"I don't know. I'm thinking maybe he wants someone to help him pick out paintings, maybe for his office or something. Maybe for that house he's buying. I don't know. I have my phone on me, so if anything goes wrong, I'll call."
Jordan hugged me and in my ear whispered, "Be careful. Remember, wealthy people hire people to do their work. I doubt he's here for a decorator."
"I will. And don't worry. I'll tell you all the details when I get home," I teased.
Squeezing my arm as I moved away from her, she said, "You better!"
Jordan and I were breaking the best friend code's first rule: Never let your friend leave with a strange man. He wasn't a strange man, per se, but she couldn't have stopped me even if she thought he was. With each step I took toward Tristan, an excitement began building in me. I hoped he wanted me like I wanted him, but if all he wanted was someone to help him pick out art, maybe he'd pay me enough so I could begin to build up my savings. Whatever it was, at least I'd be spending time doing something with art.