Crash Into Me(45)

My joke got no response, and he sat silently alternating his focus from the spot on the wall to my face. It made me uncomfortable, so I turned my back to him and faced my first task as his employee.

I felt his gaze on my back, but I remained fixated on the job at hand. It was too easy to want to just turn around and climb on top of him, straddling his hips as my skirt rode up and my body slid over his. I wanted to show him that I could do this.

His home was decorated expensively in a style much like other expensive hotel rooms I'd seen in decorating magazines. I walked around looking at the furniture and coverings, but none of them seemed particularly him. They were luxurious but not unique. Certainly, whoever had chosen them knew how to spend money. From the gold and cream stripe sofas that flanked the beige marble fireplace wall in the living room to the wingback Queen Anne chairs and large mahogany coffee table that must have been five feet in diameter in the sitting room, the home had been carefully decorated to apply to no one in particular. Down the hall was a bedroom with a ceiling that showed the decorator had possessed some flair. Hand painted, the view above the bedroom Tristan didn't sleep in was a stunning design that depicted the seventeenth century Dutch settlement of New Amsterdam near the spot the hotel stood on now.

I wandered to the bathroom and stood with my mouth hanging open. The time before I hadn't gotten to see it, and as I looked around with wide eyes, I was in love. Pale shades of marble and granite covered everywhere my gaze fell, but the centerpiece of the room was a toss up. The deep soaker tub in the center of the room competed with the floor to ceiling windows that showed the splendor of the city below, leaving me unsure which was more beautiful.

Walking back to his bedroom, which while attractive was possibly the least appealing room in the entire home, I made up my mind to choose a piece of art that would reflect him, not just look good or expensive. He sat still waiting for me on the bed, looking almost uncomfortable in his own house.

"Tristan, did you have this decorated when you moved in?"

I was almost sure the answer would be no, but I had to know. I don't think I'd ever seen a home so completely unrepresentative of its owner.

Shaking his head, he said, "No. It just comes with the job."

"No wonder nothing here is like you. I mean, it's gorgeous, especially the bathroom, but nothing about this place says you live here."




"So, have you thought about what might work on this wall?"

"No, but I know I want it to be something that says 'Tristan Stone lives here' instead of something so gorgeously common and expensive that it could be in anyone's home."

"And what would this piece say about me?" he asked, his interest obviously piqued.

"The man who lives here is intelligent—a man of few words but those he does speak are meaningful."

"I knew I'd like your choices in this. I look forward to seeing what you have to offer, Nina. I'll leave you to your work and be back at five sharp. My hotel and my home are at your disposal. When you get hungry, simply call the concierge and they'll take care of you."

He stood and I moved to kiss him, as I would any other boyfriend of mine who was leaving for work, but he merely nodded and silently walked by me as I stood watching him leave. All I could guess was that I was truly on the job now.





Chapter Nine

By five o' clock, I'd narrowed the potential choices for Tristan's room to three, and I was surprisingly tired. While I hadn't done any physical work at all, my mind had been working overtime all day about what piece would be perfect for the man who lived in this expensively furnished yet characterless penthouse. I wanted it to be perfect. I wanted to show him that he hadn't made a mistake having faith in me. Most of all, I wanted to give him something that would show what he was in my eyes.