The Takeover (The Miles High Club #2)(23)

Not even a glance my way.

“So, Tristan,” Saba says in her sexiest voice. “Are we on for tonight? You’ve been promising to party with us girls.”

Tristan’s eyes flick guiltily to me. “No. I can’t. I’m sorry. I’m busy.”

I sip my coffee as I watch him navigate this. It’s fun watching him squirm.

“Doing what?” Saba frowns.

“I have a project to finish with Claire. We started it last night, and it still needs work.”

The girls’ faces fall in disappointment.

“No, that’s fine, Tristan,” I interrupt. “I finished the job myself after you left.”

He blinks in disbelief and then narrows his eyes. “Is that so?”

“Uh-huh.” I sip my coffee, acting innocent.

He glares at me.

“Yeah, that’s probably why I slept so well. Felt so good to finally get the project done, you know?”

“I would have done it better,” he replies flatly.

“Oh, well, you didn’t.” I smile sweetly. “I saved you the job. You should go party with the girls. I’m sure they’re going to be great fun.”

“Yes.” The girls all giggle on cue, and he looks at me deadpan.

The bell rings for us to return, and everyone stands and leaves us alone.

“Finished the job, did you?” he whispers.

I shrug casually. “It had to be done.”

He stands and does his suit jacket up with one hand, unimpressed. “You’re a smart-ass, Anderson.”

“Have fun with the girls tonight,” I whisper. “Although, I really don’t know how you would handle three?”

“You’re going to fucking get it.” He marches off toward the conference room, clearly annoyed, and I smile after him.

I feel a flutter in my psyche; it’s as if the playful part of my personality is waking up from her deep sleep.

The long-forgotten piece of me.

Tristan makes me remember who I was . . . before.

The room is steamy and hot, and I smile sleepily as my head rests on the side of the bathtub. It’s just around ten o’clock, and I’m so relaxed that I’m nearly asleep.

I hear the lock on my door click, and I frown. Huh?

Maybe it’s housekeeping. The door shuts. “Hello?” I call.

“Hi,” Tristan says as he walks into the bathroom. He takes off his suit jacket and throws it over the chair in the corner.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

He continues to undress.

“How did you get in here?” I frown.

“A key?” He kicks off his shoes.

“How did you get a key?”

He unzips his pants. “I did what any self-respecting man who’s kicked out of bed in the middle of the night does.” He takes off his shirt. “I took yours.”

My eyes widen. “You stole my key?” I gasp.

“Borrowed it, and relax, we swap body fluids. What’s yours is mine.” He slides down his trousers and briefs. “Move over. I’m getting in.”

“Tristan.”

He steps into the bath, between my legs, and sits down. The water sloshes over the side.

“It’s too hot.” He winces as he goes to turn the cold water on.

“Don’t even think about it,” I mutter.

He smiles and then slides down and closes his eyes. The water sloshes over the sides again.

I watch him for a moment. “How was your date?” I ask.

“It wasn’t a date.”

“Okay, your foursome.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he mumbles. “A reason to tease me for all of eternity.” His hair is all messed up, and his boyish charm is at an all-time high.

I smile, surprised by who he’s turning out to be. I never once pegged him as fun to be around.

He opens one eye to look at me. “What?”

“You really are a very good-looking man, Mr. Miles.”

He smirks. “Is that you giving me a compliment, Anderson?”

I nod in slow motion with a big smile.

He runs his hand up my leg. “Did you really finish yourself off last night?”

“Would it bother you if I did?”

“Yes. It would, actually.”

I pick up his foot and kiss it and then put it back down between my breasts. “No, Tristan, I didn’t.”

He stares at me for a moment, as if processing a thought. He massages my breast with his foot. “Are you lying?”

“Why would I?”

“I don’t know.” He thinks on it for a moment. “You’re a very different species of woman to what I’m used to, Claire.”

“How so?”

“It didn’t bother you one bit that I went out with three women tonight?”

I smile. If we were different, I would no doubt be raging mad, but knowing that Tristan is just for fun and that it could never be like that between us, I’m surprisingly good. “No. Why?” I lift his foot and kiss it again. “Should it?”

“I don’t know.” He frowns as he contemplates his response.

“Do you want me to act jealous?” I ask.

He gives me a lopsided smile. “Perhaps a little. Couldn’t hurt, could it?”