“I always enjoyed when you lost your temper. Remember how pissed you were when I came to help when you had the flu last year?”
She groaned at the memory. “I wanted to kill you. You didn’t even call me! Just showed up looking like you were going to some fancy party, with a container of soup in your hand. Meanwhile, I was in three-day-old pj’s, sported crazy hair, and hadn’t brushed my teeth.”
“You were scary, but it wasn’t your appearance. When I tried to get in, you practically handicapped me with the door, and that was you in weak form.”
Humiliation burned. She’d barely been able to function, and he’d looked like Daniel Craig playing James Bond, all unruffled and sexy, unbuttoning his shirt sleeves like he was about to get dirty. “Never surprise a woman when she’s sick and ugly.”
“You’ve never been ugly a day in your life.” His soft words brought a flush of pleasure and a touch of sudden shyness. They hadn’t said nice things to each other in a long time. “And it just showed me how strong you really are. I ran over there because I figured you wouldn’t be able to take care of Becca. But I was wrong. You had it handled.”
“Then why did you stay?”
He’d spent the night on the lumpy couch. He’d done her laundry and left it all neatly folded in the basket. Becca slept nonstop, so he’d kept watch so Sydney could also get some sleep. The kind gesture only angered her further. She hadn’t wanted him to be involved in any part of their lives, and by busting in to help, he’d tipped the scales. It was a dangerous game she hadn’t wanted to play, so her fear came out as anger. When she’d woken up, she’d immediately thrown him out.
“Because you needed a break. I was figuring out you really could do it all. I just didn’t want you to be forced to.”
She swallowed past the lump in her throat. He gazed at her with sudden warmth and openness, and her heart squeezed. What was happening? His words broke her apart and put her back together. Isn’t that what every woman wanted a man to recognize? Some shift had occurred since her confession Saturday night—a deeper understanding and connection—and she didn’t know how to handle it.
Her voice emerged like she was talking through sticky peanut butter. “We’d better go.”
He waited a bit, assessing her reaction, then nodded. She smothered her sigh of relief. “Sure. Let’s head back to the office to do an assessment, then call it a day.”
She followed him out, trying to ignore the faint clang of warning in her brain telling her she hadn’t escaped the danger.
She’d just delayed it.
On Friday, they strode out of the Cushman Real Estate offices with a signed contract for Pierce Brothers.
It had been a hell of a week, but they’d done it. Tristan noticed she looked a bit shell-shocked, but she’d hidden it deftly the entire meeting. When they exited the conference room and made their way down in the elevator, they hadn’t talked. Walking out of the twenty-story building back into the March wind, they still didn’t say a word. And when they stopped in front of the hot dog vendor at the Avenue of the Americas, they finally turned to each other and slowly grinned.
“We did it.”
“Hell yes, we did it,” he said. “Congratulations. You’ve just closed your first huge business deal, Ms. CFO.”
The new Sydney he was finally getting to know was more controlled and didn’t exhibit impulsive behavior. As much as he sometimes mourned the raw passion and enthusiasm of the past, his respect and fascination for the grown woman overpowered his memories. But when she let out a rip-roaring yell of victory and jumped into his arms, he tumbled hard for the entire package.
He was still crazy about this woman.
He caught her as she flew through the air and spun her around in the midst of the jaded city crowd. Eyes glowing with delight, she hugged him in triumph, the barrier between them ripped down in the joy of the moment. Tristan closed his eyes and savored the feel of her soft curves cradled against him, the smell of orange blossoms from her skin, the silky caress of her hair against his cheek. When he finally set her down, he already grieved the loss.
“I want two hot dogs!” she announced. “With toppings. And a Coke!”
“Now you’re scaring me,” he teased, quickly putting in his order with the vendor, who already looked impatient at their exchange. Every other woman he knew would have insisted on an expensive lunch with crystal and champagne to celebrate such a deal. But Syd liked the simple things as much as the fancy stuff. In her view, it was all magnificent because she had an uncanny ability to enjoy her life in the moment, no matter what it brought.
They sat on a bench and ate their dogs, slurping soda from the can and discussing the highlights of the meeting. It was the type of work Tristan had always craved. A perfect combination of real estate and design. The knowledge that Sydney would be involved in each step made the journey even more satisfying. Wasn’t that what he had always wanted in life? A woman to be by his side every step of the way? A woman who could match him, challenge him, and accept him for all the good and bad and in-between? Wasn’t that what every man dreamed of somewhere deep inside, during the night, where no one could judge the empty ache that seemed impossible to fill with short affairs and satisfying work?
It was time to show her how serious he was about moving their relationship forward. It was time to roll the dice and make his play. Tonight.
“Tristan?”
He turned toward her, shaken from his thoughts. “Yeah?”
“Not tonight, Rambo.”
He jerked, spilling his soda over his fingers. Shock held him immobile. “What did you just say?”
She tossed him a teasing smile. “You’ve got that really intense look you get when you’re planning a big coup. Your eyes squint up and you press your lips together, and you look kind of mad.”
That was his sexy face? Ugh. He needed to work on a better seduction technique. Still, at least she hadn’t guessed the real reason for his focus. “Never realized you knew my habits so well.”
She shrugged. “We’ve known each other a long time. I also know when you lie.”
Now, that was a terrifying thought. He gave a fierce frown. “Do not.”
Was that a giggle that escaped or just his imagination? “Your left eyebrow hikes up.”