He didn’t respond, so I grabbed my bag and got out. I’d assumed he would send some other gofer to retrieve me, but after a few minutes, it was Tripp himself who strode across the lot.
Wow.
There was a timeless, almost old-school coolness about his look. His overgrown hair was pushed back instead of falling across his forehead like it usually did. His well-fitting dark gray slacks with a structured black tee tucked in reminded me of a classic movie heartthrob.
Well, except for the paper bib thingy that was still stuck in his collar, blowing in the cool breeze.
And the makeup that was dotted on his face.
That should’ve dulled his attractiveness and made him look ridiculous, but he was as effortlessly fashionable and handsome as always.
Especially when he smiled at me, and his gray eyes crinkled at the outer corners. “I was beginning to think you were ditching me for Maddie.”
She must’ve told him about our Sunday brunches.
“Not this week,” I said. I had been tempted to stay a little longer since Wren had shown up just as I was leaving, but I’d dragged myself away.
Good thing, too, otherwise I would’ve actually been late.
Orlatersince my boss had clearly already gotten started.
“You’re here early,” I noted, fishing for information if that was a typical occurrence I needed to plan for.
“Traffic was light.”
Traffic was never light in LA, but I’d seen the sports car outside of his house. It was an easy bet that thing could swerve in and out of the constant backup of cars in ways my Rover could only dream of.
I risked another glance at him just as he looked down to catch my eyes. His mouth curved. “I can feel you staring at me.” He gave a flourished gesture to his face. “Is it not my color?”
“No, no, the color match is good. You just might need a little bit of blending.”
Stopping to face me, he raised his index and middle fingers to touch a spot of foundation or concealer or whatever makeup magic they used. “Here?” He spread it across his forehead, ruining the precise layout. “Or here?” Another spot, another smear that went toward his jaw, lightening a patch of stubble. “Or maybe here…” he said slowly before launching his surprise attack. Grabbing my arm with his clean hand, he ran his makeupy fingers across my cheek. With a startled squeak and a burst of laughter, I tried to jolt back, but his hold tightened as he gripped my upper arm and palmed my cheek.
My laughter cut off at the burst of wildly inappropriate fire that shot through me. Like the previous times he’d held me like that, the surge of desire was shocking.
And unfamiliar.
Even in the hottest, most intimate moments with Josh, I’d never felt that kind of intensity.
I need to research if arms are an erogenous zone.
And maybe wear a big puffy coat to dampen the sensation in the meantime.
Tripp’s own smile faltered as his hand cupping my cheek reflexively squeezed. After a long moment that seemed to stretch until I forgot how to speak, he released my face to show me the clean ring and pinky fingers he’d touched me with. “Don’t worry, your pretty face is safe.”
It took me a second to realize that he’d misconstrued my abrupt mood change and thought I was concerned with the mess. Since that was easier than explaining a reaction I didn’t even understand, I let him think that.
Rolling my eyes at his phrasing, I stepped back as I scrambled for something to say before landing on, “Anything I need to know before we get in there?”
It was a valid question since I was flying blind.
“Nah. They’ll boss me around, get the recordings they need, then we’ll wrap. It’ll be boring as shit for you.”
I somehow doubt that.
I followed as he resumed walking and immediately saw the error of my ways. “The guy at the gate told me to turn right.”
That bastard.
