Desk Job (London Menage Book 2) (10 page)

A solitary strand of hair had been left sticking up. I resisted the temptation to flatten it. “Yes, I have one brother. He lives up north with his wife. We don’t see each other often but try and catch up on the phone once a month.”

“And parents?”

“They live in Cambridge. They’re well. Enjoying retirement and spending our inheritance.” I smiled, thinking of the big holiday they had planned to America in a few months. They were touring, something they’d always talked about doing. Road trip, Dad was calling it.

“Do you see them often?”

“When I can, every few weeks usually. It’s not that far.” I had a sip of wine. “What about you? Do you have family around here?”

“We lost Dad ten years ago, my mother lives with my sister in Dorset. She loves being surrounded by the grandchildren.”

I nodded.

He shrugged. “I visit when I can, but it’s not as often as I should.”

“Maybe I could schedule it into your diary for you.” I smiled.

“I think that might be for the best.” He shook his head. “That way I wouldn’t get distracted by work.”

“You and Andre are both the same. Too busy to fit in…” I paused. Was I pushing it too far?

“A life.” He finished for me. “Yeah, you’re right. We do need to at least make time for family and, maybe, romance.”

I raised my eyebrows. This was as good an opportunity as any to find out a bit more. “You don’t have a special someone?”

“A girlfriend? Nah. I try, I’m a bloke, I like women, would like one of my own, the whole shebang, love, marriage, kids.” He bit on his bottom lip and scrubbed his finger over his stubbled chin. “But it never works out.”

“Because you’re too busy.”

“That’s the one. I’ve discovered the fairer sex become less interested once they’ve been cancelled on a couple of times. Who wants to get involved with a workaholic who has to drop everything to go and meet with clients all over Europe? It’s a recipe for disappointment.”

“I suppose there’s a balance between not being too full on and then not being there at all.”

“And it’s that balance I struggle with.” He took a drink of his beer. “But I’m not the only one. Andre has the same issues. How can he not? We’re running the same company.”

Andre.

Hearing his name warmed me. Though I was feeling pretty good anyway enjoying time with a more relaxed and open Tristan. Plus, I’d noticed a few women in the bar throwing him appreciative glances.

I set my shoulders back and checked the bow on my blouse.

Tristan watched my movements.

“I wonder how Andre’s meetings are going in Barcelona?” I said.

“Good. I chatted to him earlier.”

“You did?”

“Yes.” He chuckled. “He called about several things and one of them was to ask me how you were.”

“That’s kind of him.”

“Like me, he wants you to be happy with us. We know we demand a lot from a PA so it’s hard to find the perfect person which you seem to be.”

“You think I’m perfect?” I laughed. “Far from it.”

He leaned forward. A serious expression set his jawline tight. “Yes, that’s exactly it.
We
think you’re perfect, Stella, for us.”

I looked into the depths of his dark eyes. They were eyes I could get lost in. Now that I was getting to know Tristan the harshness had gone from them and I saw a passionate, ambitious man who had hopes for the future in both his private and business life.

He didn’t have a girlfriend.

He wanted one.

The whole
shebang
.

Damn it, I’d be his girlfriend in a heartbeat. The guy was sex on a stick and I’d bet my last pound his body was honed to perfection beneath his beautifully tailored suit. What I wouldn’t do to find out.

What the hell…?

I shook my head and looked away. How could I be thinking things like that about Tristan? I had a major crush on his partner. This was simply ridiculous.

“I really should get going.” I stood and reached for my bag. There was an inch of wine left in my glass.

“Are you okay?” He leaned back in his chair and looked up at me.

“Fine, yes, fine. I really should be off … I’ve got Lullabelle to think of.”

“Lullabelle?”

“My cat, she’ll be hungry. All day in the flat, on her own.” Plus, I needed to eat too. I mustn’t forget.

“Ah, okay. Well, thank you for your company and all of your hard work today.”

I smiled, hoisted the strap of my bag onto my shoulder, and left the wine bar.

As I walked past the window, dodging a woman walking a huge dog, I wondered if he was watching me.

It felt like he was. I could almost feel the heat of his gaze on my ass, his attention following the sway of my hips.

And did I mind?

Hell no. His interest gave my ego one hell of a boost.

Chapter Nine

The rest of the week went by in a blur. Tristan had clearly gained confidence in my abilities and was trusting me to take on more of his tasks which meant he could concentrate on other things.

The office had a nice atmosphere. Staff were chatty but equally committed to their work. I certainly didn’t notice any slackers.

Andre emailed me several times. He suggested lunch on Saturday, when he returned from Barcelona. The thought of seeing him thrilled me. My mind had been so full of Tristan and his needs that I was forgetting the feel of Andre on me, in me, with me. I was looking forward to reminding myself and hoped that lunch would lead to more.

“I love your shoes,” Jenny said as I made coffee for myself and Tristan late on Friday afternoon.

“Oh, thanks. They’re from Zara.” I glanced at the high red stilettoes that had tiny black polka dots on the material and a looped ribbon on the back of the heel. I’d teamed them with black fishnet stockings and a black pencil skirt. My blouse matched the shoes and had billowing sleeves that were silky soft against my skin.

“I love Zara. Can’t wait for the sale.” Jenny sighed.

“Me too.”

“We should go shopping sometime.” Her face brightened.

I smiled as I poured water into the mugs. “I’d like that.”

“After payday, it’s a date.”

“Looking forward to it.” And I was, it would be nice to get to know Jenny better. She had an easy smile and a quick wit. I also got the feeling she had quite a lot to cope with having such a hot-headed boyfriend.

I headed into Tristan’s office with his coffee.

He had large sheets of artwork spread over his desk and James was talking animatedly about the designs.

I set down the coffee.

Tristan looked at me and grinned. “Thanks, Stella. You’re the best.” He reached for the mug.

I returned his smile, then went to my desk. I had his expenses to detail from his trip away the previous week.

James and Tristan spent a couple of hours discussing logos and packaging for the new contract they were hoping to win. It took me all that time to get through the expenses then add them to the on-going spreadsheets.

“See you, Stella, have a nice weekend,” James said as he wandered past.

I glanced up. “You too.”

He left and I realized that once again, Tristan and I were the last in the office.

I quite liked it, though, the absolute quiet. The sense of stillness calmed me. Wainwright and Bramon had quickly become somewhere I felt very comfortable.

But it really was time to head for home. Lullabelle had been extra attentive each evening probably because I’d been working longer hours than she was used to. She’d become accustomed to having me around more when I’d been between jobs.

I shut down my laptop then reached for my mug. As I took a step away from my desk, I noticed the heel on my shoe felt a bit loose.

I frowned and looked down at it. It seemed okay.

I took another step.

The heel came away from the shoe, throwing my balance.

“Ohh…” I lunged for the desk and the mug went flying, the last of the coffee spraying over the carpet as it banged against the wall.

Twisting, I managed to get my rear end into my chair—it was a much better option than falling on the floor.

“Stella.” Tristan was in front of me. “Are you okay?”

A worried frown plowed across his brow.

I pressed my hand to my chest. “Yes. Fine.” I gestured toward my shoe. “My heel has broken.”

“Your heel?”

In a flash, he was on his knees in front of me. He set one hand on my shin, his fingers pressing against my stockings, and with the other, gently removed my shoe. He frowned at the high heel which was hanging off, then set the whole thing aside.

“Did you hurt yourself?” he asked, smoothing his hand to my ankle and cupping the sole of my foot.

A tremble of awareness tickled up my leg. His touch was so delicate, so caring. “No. I don’t think so.”

He swept his thumb over the curve just above my toes, left to right, then back again. “Sexy as these shoes are, you really shouldn’t put yourself in danger.”

I giggled. It was a silly burst of noise from my chest. “I don’t think they’re too perilous.”

“You could have hurt yourself.”

He was still caressing my foot. Yes, that’s what it was, a caress. It was clear nothing was damaged.

“Tristan,” I said quietly and curled my fingers around the arms of the chair.

He didn’t reply. Instead he kept his gaze on mine. With his chin titled, he ran his left hand up my calf, settling it behind my knee.

My breath hitched—he was all I could see, feel, think about…

Damn, why does he have to be so sexy?

His fingers were beneath the hem of my skirt. He skimmed them higher so they were resting on my lower thigh. My skirt wrinkled around his knuckles.

I wanted him to feel higher, discover the pretty lace trim at the top of the stockings. Feel the heat of my skin, the soft satin underwear.

He released my foot and rose so his face was level with mine.

His pupils were huge, his lips so kissable. He was breathing as fast as me.

“Stella,” he whispered.

“Yes?” Heat from his body poured onto my chest, radiating through the fabric of my blouse. I could smell him, my hands itched to feel him.

“I’m going to apologize in advance for this … but I can’t help myself.”

He ran his hand around the back of my neck, his fingers slotting into my hair, and pulled me closer. He pressed his lips against mine, his tongue sweeping into my mouth as he dragged me to him.

I released a groan of longing. He tasted exactly how I’d imagined—dark heat and man, a hint of coffee.

Releasing my grip on the chair, I grasped his shoulders. Beneath his cotton shirt was hard muscle. Damn, why was that shirt in the way?

He moaned into my mouth as he stroked over the top of my stockings, tracing the lace with his fingertips.

He kissed with the same skill and intensity as he approached his work. I surrendered to it. Allowed him to whisk me up into a heady soup of lust.

Could we? Here?

Fuck.

What am I doing?

I tore my lips from his.

He didn’t stop kissing me and traveled his lips over my cheek to my neck.

“Tristan.”

“Mmm, Stella. You’re so fucking sexy. You’ve got me crazy for you. All week … how you look, talk, hell the way you walk…”

“No…” What about Andre? “But.”

“No, buts. Please, no buts.” He cupped my cheek and looked into my eyes.

“I’m sorry.” I pushed at his shoulders and tore my gaze from his. “I can’t.”

He tugged his hand free of my skirt and stood, releasing me. A flash of disappointment went over his face and I couldn’t help noticing a large bulge behind his zipper.

“Forgive me.” I stood, and in a strange, limping gate, rushed to the ladies’ restroom. I pushed through the door, then stood at the sink, staring into the mirror at my smudged lipstick.

My mind was swimming. What the hell was going on with me? I was a one-man woman. I never cheated. I didn’t two-time. That wasn’t who I was.

But Andre and I were hardly in a relationship. We’d had a night of fun. We were going for lunch tomorrow.

It was the start of something.

But I wanted to start something with Tristan too.

I liked him, more than liked him. I wanted him. I wanted his body, I wanted his mind, I wanted the special smiles that he seemed to save just for me.

“Stella. Please, come out.”

I glanced at the door. Tristan had opened it a fraction, though I couldn’t see him and he couldn’t see me because it opened in the opposite direction.

I didn’t answer.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s not your fault.” I reached for a tissue and tidied my smudged lipstick.

“Clearly it is. Please, come out here and let’s talk this through. I can explain.”

“Explain?”

“Yes.”

I ran the cold water and put my wrists under the flow. It was as if a fire were burning inside of me.

“I promise you, Stella, there really is no reason to be so upset.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do.”

I turned off the water. He knew nothing.

“Please … otherwise I’ll come in there and get you.”

I didn’t doubt it.

I went to the door. As I reached it, my broken shoe emerged around the small opening. The heel appeared reattached.

“I fixed it.”

“That was quick.”

“I’m known for efficiency.”

Of course he is.

I took it and, with one palm placed on the wall, slipped the shoe back on.

“It probably won’t hold for long. But it will get you home,” he said.

I opened the door fully.

Tristan had one hand against the frame, his elbow locked. When he saw me, he released it and straightened.

“Thank you.” I stepped past him. “For fixing my shoe.”

“Stella, let me explain.” He gripped my upper arm and spun me to him, not roughly but not completely gently either.

My breath hitched as I looked into his earnest face.

“There is nothing to explain, Tristan. I like you, really I do…” And yes, given the chance I’d roll into bed with him in a heartbeat. He was someone I wanted to get to know better in every sense of the word, much better. “But I’m seeing someone.”

His eyebrows twitched, then he nodded. “I know.”

“How … But…?”

“Andre.” He kind of shrugged then released my arm. “It’s not a big deal.”

“How can it not be a big deal? He’s your business partner.” Damn, had Andre told him everything, the way I’d wondered if he had?

“He’s more than a business partner. He’s my best friend. We’ve been through the good and the bad times together and you…”

“Me?”

“We’d definitely like you to be the good times.”

“I’m not following…” I patted my hair, it was messy at the back from where he’d ran his fingers through it. “Why did you kiss me if you knew I was seeing Andre?”

“Because I know he won’t mind, not in the least.”

“How do you know that?” Most blokes I knew would mind very much if another guy kissed the girl they were seeing. “Is he missing the jealousy gene?”

Tristan gave a twisted smile. “Oh no. I can’t imagine he’d want anyone else touching you, kissing you, but me … well that’s different.”

“How? Because you’re friends, because you’re close?”

“That and…”

“And what?”

“Well…” He shifted from one foot to the other. “We decided a while ago that we needed a personal assistant to share, one person who understood what the other was doing so that our diaries and commitments didn’t clash.”

I nodded. I understood that.

“And we also decided…” He hesitated.

I wondered what the hell he was going to say next. I hadn’t known Tristan to be anything other than super confident but he was standing before me now, slowly gathering words. “What did you decide?”

“That not only do we want to share a PA, we also want to share a woman.”

“Share a woman?”

“Yes. Our love lives are in a sorry state, neither of us able to invest the time and energy into a long term relationship to make it work, but we figured—”

“That you’d share
me
.” I widened my eyes. That was exactly what he was saying. “That you’d both have me in your bed?”

“Well if you want to put it like that … yes.” He reached for my hands and took them in his. “But more than that, more than sex. We both want romance, love, companionship. Individually, we’re a dating car-wreck, but together.” He squeezed my fingers. “Together we could keep one woman happy, content … satisfied. We just need to find the right woman.”

“I don’t think that’s me.” I shook my head.

“How do you know? You like us both, that much is clear, and hell, we’re both crazy for you, already.” He held my arms out to the sides and scanned my figure. “How could we not be? Look at you, you’re every man’s dream woman.”

I could hardly make sense of the words he was saying. He was actually suggesting I have a relationship with
both
of them. “I don’t know…”

“You don’t have to give an answer now. Think about it.”

“I don’t know if there is anything to think about. It’s too…”

“Unconventional, yes, I agree it is. But it’s also a solution to all of our problems.”

“Your problem, not mine.”

“Oh, but it is yours.” He released my hand and slid his palm up my arm until it rested on my shoulder. He moved in closer, his eyes heavy with intensity.