Lovely Trigger (20 page)

He took the cookies carefully from my hand, setting them on top of the car.
 
He turned to me, then slowly, softly, embraced me.
 
He hugged me under the arms and lifted me against him.
 
He pulled me right into his neck, and my arms went up to hook at his nape, holding on, since my feet had been lifted cleanly off the ground.
 
He put his lips to my temple and just held on.
 

Neither of us said a word, but we didn’t let go.
 
Not for a very long time.
 

I didn’t think of it until I was nearly home, but he’d never given me a tour of his house.
 
Dammit, now I’d have to go back.
   

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

He came by my gallery again the next morning, dressed in a suit.
 
Again.

I was in the office, standing at my tall worktable as I got organized for the day.
   

I glanced at the clock.
 
“Isn’t this way early for you?”
 

He shrugged, staring at me.
 

It was too intense of a regard, and I looked down at my hands while I moved some papers around.
 

“Come to my house for dinner tonight.
 
I have a new recipe I want you to try.”
 
There was no question in his voice.
 

I shook my head.
 
“You know this is a mistake.”
 

His laugh was low and a touch bitter.
 
“
I
don’t know that.
 
Come home with me tonight.
 
I’ll drive us straight from here.”

“And leave my car?
 
How will I get home?
 
And how will I get to work tomorrow?”
 

“I’ll drive you when I come back for the show, or whenever, wherever.
 
I just want to share a meal.
 
What’s the harm?”

I tried to give him a chastising look.
 
Neither of us were naive enough to think that leaving my car here would end up in us just sharing a meal.
 

“I’ll come for dinner, but I’m driving myself.”
 

He smiled, flashing big, happy dimples, and I saw his move.
 
He’d asked for too much, so I would concede more than I’d planned.
 

He moved to stand directly behind me.
 
I shut my eyes as he pressed against me slowly.
 

“What are you doing?” I asked him, my voice catching.
 

“Shh, sweetheart, just let me.
 
I need this.”
 
He spoke against my temple, then kissed me there.
 

I let him.
 

He covered my hands with his own, and still, I didn’t pull away.
 

I wasn’t sure what he was up to, what he intended, and I wasn’t sure how long I would have let it continue, how far I would have let it go.
 
It was taken out of both of our hands when Sandra popped her head in the office, effectively breaking the spell.
 

Which was embarrassing, but for the best.
 

“Um, sorry, but you’ve got a call on line one.”
 
She disappeared.

“I need to work,” I told him.
 

He took a step back.
 
“I’ll see you tonight.”
 

He left.

I tried to make myself call him and cancel, but my workday ended, and I found myself driving to his house, instead of home.
   

I still wore my clothes from work.
 
It was business attire, a sexy twist on a simple navy sleeveless shirtdress, with a shorter hem, and the neckline open to reveal my cleavage down to the lace of my bralette.
 
I’d taken the time to retouch my makeup before I’d left my office.
 

The pretense of this being platonic was flimsy indeed.
 
Less believable by the minute.

He met me at the door in another dress shirt and slacks.
 
I really wanted to know why he was dressing like this now, but he wouldn’t give me a straight answer, stubborn man.

We shared another spectacular meal, a homemade linguine with creamy pesto sauce.

I assumed he had a show that night, but as we lingered over dinner, he started talking about watching more episodes with me.
 

“Don’t you have to get back to the casino soon?”
 

“Nah, no show tonight.”
 

That baffled me, as I was quite familiar with his schedule.
 
This wasn’t one of the shows normal blackout nights.
 

“How is that possible?”
 

He just shrugged it off.
 
“I have a good contract, and sometimes, if I just need an extra night off, I get a night off.”

I didn’t want it to, but that warmed me from head to toe.
 

I kept him company in the kitchen while he made us a totally unnecessary dessert.
 

He started making chocolate cake from scratch, and I perched my butt on the counter and watched him, as fascinated as I’d ever been to watch him working in the kitchen.
 

He shot me a sideways smile.
 
“Sweetheart, you’ve got to stop giving me that look if you don’t want me to ruin dessert.”
 

“Don’t call me that,” I said weakly.
 

His smile grew as he turned back to his task.
 
“That’s right.
 
You prefer pudding.
 
I remember now.
 
Be careful with those looks, pudding.”

That made my fists clench, because it brought back memories, and that made me realize that every time he used his endearments on me,
my
endearments, it brought back memories.
 
Those memories were going to break down all of my defenses in no time.
 
That couldn’t happen.
 

“Boo, sweetheart, pudding.
 
You have got to stop it with all of those damn nicknames,” I told him, making my voice firm.
 

“Endearments.”
 

“Well, call them what you want to, but knock it off.”
 
I wasn’t even sure why I bothered.
 
He clearly wasn’t getting the message.

He stopped what he was doing and turned to me.
 
“Is this wager material?
 
Do you want me to stop that bad?”
 

“Oh, no.
 
You are not going to turn this into a bet.“

“You win, I’ll stop calling you boo.
 
I win, you stop complaining when I do.”
 

“Nuh-uh.
 
I already told you, not falling for it.”
 

“I’ll bet you one spoonful of cinnamon.”
 

“Excuse me?
 
Is that a metaphor or some kind of a dare?”

“A dare.
 
You eat one teaspoonful of cinnamon and you win.”
 

“I’m not you, Tristan.
 
I can turn down a dare.”
 

“Prove it.”
 

“Now you’re daring me not to take the dare?
 
Either way, I’ll be taking a dare.
 
You’re setting me up.”
   

“Well, take the cinnamon dare and I’ll drop it.
 

It did sound easy.
 
My eyes narrowed on him.
 
“Just a teaspoon full?
 
Not even a tablespoon?”

He grinned, showing every white tooth.
 
“You don’t watch YouTube much, do you?”
 

“No, but what does that have to do with anything?”
 

He bit his lip and shook his head.
 

“Okay, you know what?
 
I’ll do it.”

His response to my acquiescence was pure glee.
 

That should have clued me in, but hell, I’m as stubborn as he is, the crazy bastard.
 

First, he made sure a glass of water was on standby.
 

He spoke while he got out the cinnamon.
 
“Here are the rules: No water for one minute, and the entire spoonful has to be swallowed in that amount of time.
 
You spit it out, or go for the water, you lose.
 
You swallow it, you win.
 
Any questions?”
 

I was studying him, getting more paranoid by the second, but how hard could it be, really?
 
One teaspoon, a teeny, tiny spoonful of something I loved the taste of?
 

“Nope.
 
Let’s do this.”

I didn’t draw it out, grabbing the spoon and the cinnamon out of his hand, and getting it ready.
 

“Do you mind if I record this?” he asked.
 
He already sounded like he was trying not to laugh.

“That was not part of the deal.”
 

“I have to warn you, this is going to burn your throat and you might throw up.”
 

I ignored him, pushing the spoon into my mouth, planning to swallow fast.
 

I hadn’t even pulled it out before cinnamon was shooting out of my mouth and nose as I went into a painful fit of coughing.
 
I grabbed for the water, took a long swig, and spit that out too.
 

My throat felt on fire, eyes tearing up and running in mere seconds.
 

“Oh my God, it burns!” I gasped, going for another drink.
 
I did this three times, then started to look around for paper towels.
 
Not seeing them right away, I moved to Tristan and started rubbing my tongue on his very nice shirt.
 

The bastard deserved that and worse.

He was laughing so hard he was doubled over.
 

“I hate you,” I told him.
 

“Hey now!”
 

“This is disgusting.
 
It’s stuck to the roof of my mouth!
 
Ick!”

I went to the sink and started rinsing again, then back to his shirt to scrape my tongue again.

“My nose is running!
 
My mouth is burning!”
       

It took a while, but when I felt recovered enough, I whirled on him.
 
“That was awful.
 
I can’t believe you made me do that.”
 

His eyes were twinkling; he couldn’t stop smiling.
 
“You know I adore you, but there are times when I just like to torture you.
 
It makes me happy.”
 

I didn’t know what to say to that.
 
I focused on the obnoxious part and ignored the part that made my stupid heart pound faster.
 
“Well you don’t have to look so satisfied about it!”

There it was, that most Troublesome smile.
 
“Oh, boo, you of all people should know that this isn’t how I look when I’m satisfied.”
 

I supposed I’d walked right into that one.
 
Infuriatingly, I blushed.
 
“Don’t you use that tone on me,” I warned, but it was so feeble that I knew it didn’t faze him.

We watched our show while the cake baked.
 
He behaved himself, staying on his couch.
 
I didn’t even have to insist.
 
He just did it.
 
I eyed him suspiciously all the while, not trusting it.
 

We were eating his chocolate cake when I caught him staring at me.
 

Not just staring.
 
Eating me up.
 
He was gazing at me with an unabashed longing in his eyes that I couldn’t let stand.
 
I could only take so much.
     

“Don’t look at me like that,” I told him, setting down my fork, my voice turned as cold as I could manage.

He kept doing it, until his faced transformed into a too warm smile, a soft, affectionate stare.
 

“Like what?” he asked, and I knew that he was toying with me.
 

Torturing us both just to get a taste of the old feelings.
 

“You know.
 
I will leave.
 
I mean it.”
 

“I’m not doing anything.
 
I’ve just…missed you.
 
I’m glad to spend time with you again.”

I knew he was full of it.
 
“We can’t go back, Tristan.
 
We can’t take any of it back.
 
We can’t pretend that you are just you, and I am just me.
 
There is too much bad history between us to pretend.”

Something passed over his face.
 
It was hard to name all of the things I saw there with just one brief glimpse. Pain, regret, hope?
 

I discounted it all, even while I felt it myself.
 

“This is nostalgia that you’re feeling.
 
It is transient.
 
It will go away.”
 

He swallowed hard, looking anguished for one brief moment before he washed his features back into that soft smile.
 
“For you, maybe.
 
But not for me.
 
Want to know how I know?”

I started shaking my head, but the question had been rhetorical.
 
He was going to tell me, regardless.
 
“Because it never went away.
 
Nostalgia suggests that the feelings are coming back, and they can’t do that, when they
never went away.
”