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‘Yes,’ Lily agreed, following him with her eyes as he walked to the door. Then he stopped abruptly.
‘Are you…okay this morning?’ His voice was rough and slightly aggressive and she knew what he was asking.
‘I thought we’d just agreed to forget last night?’
‘I’m allowed to check how you are, dammit. And don’t say fine.’
She arched an eyebrow. ‘Will great do?’ she asked lightly.
His nostrils flared and she thought that maybe now was not a good time to aggravate him.
Tristan’s mouth tightened. This situation was intolerable. He couldn’t be in the same room with her and not want to touch her, but it was obvious by the proud tilt of her head that she wouldn’t welcome his advances. He didn’t know what he had expected from her this morning, but her suggestion that they forget last night had surprised him. And annoyed him. Becau
se he wasn’t sure he could forget it!
The phone in his pocket rang and he checked the caller ID before answering. Bert had been caught in a six-car pile-up on Rosslyn Hill. He didn’t want another car. He’d call a cab—it would be quicker.
‘What happened?’
‘Bert’s been caught in an accident.’
‘Is he okay?’ Her concern was genuine, and he was reminded of how yesterday she had given Bert unsolicited signed promotional pictures of herself when she found out his daughters were fans.
‘It was minor, but he’s wedged between two other cars. I’ll arrange someone to help him out and call a cab.’
‘I’ll get dressed.’
Tristan’s eyes drifted down over the dove-grey silk wrap she wore and he noted the delicate pink that swept into her face. Even with the shadows beneath her eyes she was quite simply the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
‘Good idea.’
Twenty minutes later Lily joined Tristan on a rear terrace that looked out over a sizable manicured garden flanked by a glassed-in pool and gymnasium, absently noting that it was hard to believe she was in the middle of one of the busiest cities in the world.
Tristan wore his suit jacket now, and she felt like a tourist in her simple jeans, white T-shirt and faithful black cardigan. She noticed him glance at her cardigan as he watched her approach, a bemused expression flitting across his face.
‘What?’
‘Nothing.’ He shook his head. ‘I would offer you tea, but I’d like to get going and check that Bert is okay.’
‘Sure.’ Lily followed him back through the house towards the front door.
‘It seems traffic is particularly bad this morning. The cab driver has had to park up the road a way.’
‘That’s okay.’ Lily smiled. ‘I like walking. It’s a New York pastime.’
‘I suppose it is,’ Tristan agreed, feeling awkward and out of sorts after her disclosures in her bedroom. His instincts warned him to keep his distance from her. After last night she was more dangerous to his emotional well-being than she had ever been, and in hindsight having sex with her had been a terrible idea.
Lily waited for him to open the front door and stepped out ahead of him—straight into the view of at least twenty members of the press, who had breached his security gates and were filling the normally pristine space of his forecourt, trampling grass and flowerbeds as they jostled for position.
They shouted an endless list of questions as camera flashes momentarily blinded them both.
It was like a scene from a bad movie, and after a split second of shocked inertia Tristan grabbed Lily around the waist and hauled her back inside.
‘Oh, my gosh!’
‘I’ll call the police,’ he stated grimly, slamming the door shut before he turned to her and grabbed her chin between his thumb and forefinger. ‘Are you okay?’ His eyes scanned her face for signs of distress, wondering if perhaps she might have a panic attack.
‘I’m fine,’ she confirmed. ‘I told you, I rarely have attacks any more—and, anyway, you grabbed me so quickly I barely had time to register they were even there.’
