"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!