Bad Things (Tristan & Danika #1)(8)

I started shaking my head as soon as I saw the jewelry box in her hand. She didn’t own any cheap, costume jewelry, and I would be terrified if I borrowed something expensive and then lost it. The sad fact was I could never afford to replace even her cheapest piece of bling.

She completely disregarded the headshake, opening the box to show me a pair of earrings. They were huge, pear shaped, diamond studs, two carats at least. “They latch on tight, Danika. There’s no way you’d lose one, and that dress begs for diamonds.”

“I can’t, Bev. I just can’t. And I think I might already be overdressed. Tristan is probably just going to wear a T-shirt and jeans, anyway.”

“You’re wrong there. I saw him. He’s already ready, and he’s looking sharp.”

I smirked. I loved it when she went all old school on me. “Sharp? Like a pencil?”

“Sharp, like dressed up, you smart ass.”

“What’s he wearing?”

“Black slacks and a blazer over a black T-shirt.”

“Sounds a little Vegas douchy. The T-shirt with a suit, I mean. And isn’t it a little hot for that?”

She shrugged. “Wait until you see him. Call it whatever you want, but he looks edible.”

I laughed. “I can’t believe you’re encouraging me to go out with him. Lucy will have a field day, harassing you about it. Hell, she’ll harass us both.”

Bev pursed her lips, and I grinned, knowing that she was going to go into Lucy mode. She did a spot-on impression of our psychiatrist friend, Lucy.

“Jumping from one relationship and straight into another is a symptom of your love addiction, Danika,” she said, her voice pitched low.

I sighed. “He really is just a friend, no funny business at all, but I doubt she’d believe that if she got a look at him.”

Bev nodded. “I believe you, but I have a feeling she’ll have something to say about it.”

I started getting dressed, completely unfazed by Bev’s presence.

I heard a big sigh behind me as I was slipping the dress over my head.

“I’d give anything to have tits like that again. I had to tape mine up to wear that dress, I shit you not.”

I laughed. “I remember. I helped with the tape. You looked fabulous, though, which is all that counts.”

She grimaced. “I remember my braless days, though. Now that’s fun. You’re smarter than I was. You rarely go without a bra. I never even owned one until my late thirties.”

I shrugged. I was only a small C-cup, but I didn’t feel comfortable without a bra. The only time I went without was when a dress demanded it, and that rarely ever happened, since I hardly ever dressed up.

I adjusted the dress around my hips, then straightened the neckline. It was one of those dresses that felt good, and looked better.

“Your red shoes,” Bev said.

I nodded, knowing which shoes she was referring to. She’d given them to me after wearing them herself to four different events. They were open toed stilettos with a four-inch heel. I loved them, and though they weren’t comfortable, they were hot, and I could dance in them fine, which was all that mattered.

Bev tried to talk me into the earrings, but I held strong. This wasn’t the prom, and I was already decked out.

I felt like hot stuff as I strode out into the living room, but I stopped dead when I got a load of Tristan. If I was hot, he was scorching. The worst part was, I would have bet money it had only taken him minutes to get that way.

His slacks and blazer were nice. I didn’t know a thing about suits, but his looked expensive to me, and it fit him perfectly, hugging his build so that no one could doubt that he was buff. It looked like a custom suit, especially considering his size, though I couldn’t have said for sure, and I found it unlikely, since he was a ‘club promoter’. I was pretty sure that was one of those jobs that never had an actual pay check.

Black was his color, to be sure. It brought out his tan skin, handsome features, and his golden eyes. He hadn’t shaved, but somehow the black stubble on his jaw and his short black hair went just right with the suit. He looked sinister, and drop-dead gorgeous.

He grinned when he saw me, and I tried my hardest to stop checking him out. I already knew he looked good. I would only embarrass myself by ogling him.

“I’d like to say several things,” he began, “but since we’re just being friendly, may I just say that you look very nice.”

“Thank you,” I told him, still trying hard not to check him out. He shifted, shoving his hands in his pockets, and my eyes went to his chest, fascinated with the way that the material pulled there. “You look very nice, too.”

His grin deepened, and his dimples made my own self-destructive music play at full volume in my head. “You like to dance?”

Oh, God, please say he doesn’t dance, I thought. Please, please, please, say he’s not good at it. “I do,” I said, my tone flat.

He wiggled his brows at me playfully. “That’s good. So do I. We’ll have to see if you can keep up.”

I folded my arms across my chest, arching a brow at him. “I can go all night.”

He touched a hand to his forehead, looking pained. “Tease,” he murmured, opening the front door for me.

Either Bev or Jerry had been nice enough to shut the dogs in back so they wouldn’t be rushing the front door as we left.