Lovely Trigger (Tristan & Danika #3)(37)

He sighed, but agreed.

But I did remember.  Oh Lord, did I remember.

I remembered so well that it had me seeing into the very near future, that very night in fact, when I would go home by myself, go to bed by myself, and fantasize, obsessively, about getting f**ked in the stall of that bathroom over six years ago.

We walked the rest of the way in silence, but he didn’t leave me at the entrance, following me all the way to my office.

I went and stood at my tall project desk, looking down at it, knowing I had things to do, but unable to focus on anything to do with work.

Forgetting, for a moment, what my work even was.

“What are you doing?” I asked Tristan, who was in my office, leaning against the wall, just looking at me.

“I want to cook for you.  When can you come to my house for dinner?”

I should have turned him down flat, but something he’d said and something I’d heard made me too curious to pass up the chance to ask about it.

“Your house?” I questioned.  “I heard the strangest rumor that you live in the casino.”

His mouth quirked up just enough to flash a dimple.  “It’s required in my contract that they keep a room available for my own personal use for the duration of the show.  It’s a suite, my own personal suite, for nights that run late, but it is not where I live.  I do have a house, out near Seven Hills.”

My eyes widened, but I didn’t tell him that I lived in that direction, as well.  Then he’d ask questions, and possibly find out exactly where, and I did not need that on top of everything else.

“How about tomorrow?” he asked, tucking his hands into his pockets.

I shook my head, admiring the lines of his suit.  It was amazing how well it fit him, sexy, giant biceps and all.   “No.  No.  That sounds like a date.  We are not dating.  Friends don’t date.”

“Frankie is coming to my house tonight, by herself, and I’m cooking her dinner.  Same damn thing that I’m proposing for tomorrow.  You going to tell me I’m dating Frankie now?”

As far as arguments went, he got the award for best angle on a shitty one.

I had a thought.  “I bet Estella is coming too, so that makes it completely different.”

“She’s not.  Estella is busy.  Tonight is just me and Frankie, since you refuse to come.”

“I said I have plans.”

“Okay, fine.  So come tomorrow.  A friendly dinner.  You can see my house.  Aren’t you curious about my house?”

I sure was.  He knew me so well.  I was utterly fascinated to see what kind of place he’d ended up in, where he called home now.

“Tomorrow isn’t a good night for me, anyway,” I hedged.

“The next night then.  That’s better, actually.  I’m off that night.  Friends have dinner with each other.  This is how friends work.  Now work with me.”

I shut my eyes, caving.  “Okay, fine.  Day after tomorrow, we will have a platonic dinner, and I get to check out your house.”

“Thank you,” he said, closer now.

I opened my eyes to look up at him.

His hands went to the lapels of my blazer, smoothing them absently.

“You going to see that guy tonight?”

“I’m not talking about him with you.  That’s out of line.”

“Does he know about me?  Did you tell him that you and I—”

“Stop.  Stop this instant or I’m done.”

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  “I’m sorry.  You’re right.  I can’t do that.”  He opened them again and focused on my jacket, or specifically, the buttons of my jacket.

Quick as a flash, and nervy as all hell, he unbuttoned it, sucking in a gasp at the tiny scrap of cloth I had on under it.

I took two quick steps back, buttoning it up again in a hurry.

He ran a hand through his hair, eyes wide.  “Fuck.  You wear shit like that to work often?”

I shrugged in a noncommittal way.

“Fuck.  Well, that messes with my head.  What can I do to convince you to let me see that again?”  He smiled.  “I barely got a glance.  If I’m going to be fantasizing about that tonight, it would be nice to have a very clear picture.”

I pointed my finger at the door, trying to hide my smile.  “You need to go, before you talk yourself out of cooking me dinner in a few days.”

He cursed, sent me a comically longing glance that had me trying not to laugh, and left.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

I dressed with care the morning of my non-date with Tristan.  Of course I did.  I always put time and care into looking well put together for work, but that day I woke up an hour earlier than usual, taking extra care, and picking out my clothes with a giddy fire in my belly.

I went with a cream-colored pencil skirt that hit a few inches above the knees, and a fitted lavender silk high-necked halter top with a cutout design at the collarbone that revealed a bit of skin, and a hint of cle**age.  It also left my arms, the top of my back, and the upper section of my sides bare.

When paired with a matching cream blazer, it was quite professional.  When taken off, very sexy.