I couldn't stop the smile that broke out on my face. His words made me want to beam with happiness. "I don't know if you know this, but it's pretty obvious you don't want to be with them in all the pictures. You look like a really miserable boyfriend to those women. I'm not sure anyone's believing that you really like them."
"Maybe I should look happier? I could pretend better, I guess," he said with fake sincerity.
"No, no. You're doing a great job. Leave the acting up to the professionals," I joked.
He kissed me again, making my stomach do flips as his tongue slid across my lower lip. "I couldn't pretend to like them more than I do anyway."
"I think I feel bad for them now, Tristan. I know what it's like to work for you. To not even get a smile would make the job awful."
Looking up at me with his soulful eyes, he said, "I save my smiles for you. I hope what I've ordered for dinner means you'll give me one. It's roast beef, one of your favorites, if I'm not mistaken."
"It is, but you know that."
"Of course. Let's eat and then see what Dallas has to offer," he said as he stood and we walked toward the table.
"I've never been here, so I'm a newbie in the Lone Star state," I joked, trying to sound clever.
"Hmm, a virgin. I promise I'll go easy."
I sat down across from him and giggled. "Was that a joke?"
He leveled his gaze on me, looking sexier than a man ever should. "It happens sometimes."
As I reached for a piece of roast beef, I said, "I like it."
Tristan licked his lips and grinned at me. "I'll keep that in mind."
We visited Fountain Place, a beautiful park with lit fountains and pathways where we walked and talked about the gold rooms and what I thought might work to take the focus off the overwhelming use of the color. Tristan listened to each idea as if he were truly interested, but I had the sense that I could have been talking about any topic and he'd have been happy. Just as when we'd gone for the ride in his car that first night, I had the feeling he simply wanted company.
He stopped and sat on one of the benches near one of the streams, holding his hand out for me to join him. As we watched the water slowly move by and the fountains leap in the air, he put his arm around me and I leaned against him. It was a very common gesture but strangely unique between us. For as long as we sat there, I felt like we were moving toward something familiar I could relate to.
When we returned from our walk, he left to attend to some business calls that had come in while we were enjoying our time together. I sat on the sofa in the living room and stared at the gold all around me, mulling over my ideas for how to fix his art problem. Slowly, my mind drifted to the sleeping arrangements and the two bedrooms in the suite.
Should I go back to the way it had been before, now that I knew he wasn't spending his time with other women at those events? Maybe it was better if we kept sex out of our relationship for a while since it only seemed to muddy the waters between us.
I closed my eyes and thought about Tristan in his tux kneeling in front of me. Who was I kidding? My physical attraction to him had been so intertwined with what I felt for him from the moment I'd first seen him that the mere thought of denying how he affected me was laughable.
The man himself came back and interrupted my deep thoughts about not having sex with him, and I quickly knew it was not going to happen. He sat down next to me and leaned back against the sofa. Loosening his bow tie, he let the two ends hang around his neck and undid his top button.
Closing his eyes, he whispered, "Is it ever possible to atone for the sins of the past?"
I watched his mouth turn down in a scowl that marred his handsome face and wondered what his statement referred to. It sounded far too serious to be about the misunderstanding between the two of us, but I didn't feel comfortable asking any questions.
Reaching out, I lightly ran my fingertips over his closely cut brown hair, loving its softness against my skin. Seeing him like this bothered me, made me want to fix whatever was wrong, but he kept it inside him, locked away from where I could reach it.
His eyes still closed, he pulled me onto his lap and held me close. We sat together, our bodies pressed against one another, without saying a thing. It wasn't sexual but simple closeness. It was sweet solitude, and I wanted to believe for those moments I was able to give him some respite from what troubled him. When he finally spoke again, any trace of what had bothered him was gone, and he was the Tristan who could seduce me with just a few words or a glance from those beautiful eyes.