Knowing His Secret (10 page)

"Well you don't have to worry about Tristan being sensitive or overly expressive. He's much more what I think your generation defined as 'a man's man'."

"Your father's a 'man's man' and he's been the best husband a woman could ask for," Mom said with a touch of defensiveness.

"Don't go off, Mom. Daddy hung the moon for me and you know it. Maybe that's part of what attracted me to Tristan in the first place. He is utterly masculine."

"Well he shares that with your father, along with breath-taking
good looks and a fortune bigger than many small countries."

We both laughed over that. My father is a craggy man who'd never win a beauty contest and whatever material worth he has was hard won, inch by inch.

"Is it okay if we explore the hotel? It looks like there's a lot more here than there was twenty years ago. I think it's been that long since I was inside the Plaza."

"Sure, let's take the tour."

***

Mom and I walked the entire huge first floor of The Plaza. There was a gourmet food court that sucked us in right away, even though we had just finished a huge lunch. The shops were elegant and the décor everywhere was stunning. Kwan kept a low profile but was never far. If Mom noticed him, she never mentioned it. I wasn't sure whether it made me feel safe or creeped me out to have him shadow us like that.

Around three-thirty, Mom wanted to go back to the room and phone Dad before she took a little rest. As soon as we got into the room, her cell phone rang. She fished it out of the suitcase she calls a purse and answered.

"Why, hello Tristan!"

I still had a dead phone, so it was logical for him to call Mom. My body instantly reacted to knowing he was on the end of that connection. All my nerves stood at attention and I could almost imagine an order for "increase blood supply to sex organs!" going out from the command center in my brain.

"That's very kind of you, but I am really quite exhausted. I have my eye on that marvelous deep tub in the master bath. Really, this suite is fit for royalty." He said something that made my mother giggle like a sixteen year old. "Well, you're sweet to say that."

"Of course, I'll be fine. My daughter probably deserves a break from me, anyway." Mom looked over at me and smiled. "You best make it pizza or burgers, though. That child's brought nothing to wear but her usual uniform."

At that, I scowled at her and held my hand out for the phone.
"Here's Raina, then. Nice talking with you, too."

"Hi Tristan."

"Hi Raina. I wanted to take you and your mother to dinner tonight, but she…well, you heard."

"She's been good all day, but I know the worry and the stress has to be catching up with her."

"I understand. Would you be comfortable leaving her at the hotel and having dinner with me.? I'm sure she'll be quite safe."

"
I'd love to. She's right about the jeans and T-shirt, though. We'll have to make it casual."

"The only casual I like is what I do at home. There are too many great restaurants around The Plaza to miss the opportunity for a spectacular meal. I'll cook you the best pizza you ever ate in my clay oven when we get back to the hills."

I reluctantly offered to grab something to wear at Bloomingdale's or Macy's but my heart sunk at the prospect of what it was going to cost me. I should have known better.

"Nonsense. You're only a couple blocks from Bergdoff's. Kwan will take you there and take care of anything you need. I've never seen you dressed up. Surprise me."

"But…"

"You have plenty of time and they're sure to have something you'll like."

"But…"

"Raina, you're repeating yourself. Is it so much to ask that you have a proper dinner with me? Humor me."

I felt guilty and ungrateful then. "Of course, Tristan. What time?"

"I'll come for you at seven-thirty. I'd like to say hello to your mother before we go out."

"She'd like that."

"Try to enjoy the shopping. Many women would love to have carte blanche at Bergdoffs."

I was tempted to say that I was sure 'many would' but I bit my tongue. "I'll see you at seven-thirty then."

"Very good then. Bye."

Half an hour later, I was sitting in a salon with a woman who was trotting back and forth to some unseen room to fetch dresses for me. Kwan had escorted me past racks and racks of beautiful clothes and into a back room with a couch, a triple mirror and the breathless woman who introduced herself as Ms. Summerland. After I had refused champagne, wine, coffee and tea, a tray with some designer water appeared on the table beside me.

She asked me
about my 'tastes'. I'm quite sure that by the time the first three sentences were out of my mouth she realized that I had no 'taste' at least not the kind she could use for guidance. I told her I liked bright colors and black and white but that I wasn't big on earth tones. She asked me which designers I favored. I shrugged. Kwan stood by the door and wore the same expression he always wore--unreadable.

When she was gone I looked over at the non-committal Kwan. "Look, Kwan," I began. "I get the feeling you don't like me much, but I could really use some help here. I don't know anything about clothes like this or what Tristan would expect. Can you at least nod if something looks good to you and shake your head if it's horrible?"

I think that was the first real smile I ever saw the little Asian guy give. "I think I can help you out."

"And don't set me up, okay? Don't choose something awful on purpose. Please."

"I wouldn't do that to you, Miss Raina."

I believed him. Something in his attitude had changed. Maybe it was my mother, our life, the way our family was together. I was grateful for the ally.

In the end, I found a very chic, almost vintage looking dress that had small cap sleeves, a small stand up collar and a slit up the right side to the mid thigh. It was poppy red with black buttons across one shoulder. It fit beautifully, hugging my curves and accentuating my small waist.

"How about this one? I like this best of all I've seen." I twirled around in front of Kwan who grinned at me.

"It is very reminiscent of a cheongsam. That's a traditional Chinese dress. I love it. It's classy, but the red is out there. Good choice."

"Okay, the red one it is. Thanks for your help, Kwan."

"There's one thing…"

"What's that?"

"You can't get away with that…underwear. You've got all kinds of lines."

By the time Tristan picked me up for dinner my outfit consisted of the red dress, a sleek and seamless black bustier with matching satin thong, thigh high black hose
and a pair of Christian Louboutin black pumps whose red soles were perfectly matched to the red of the dress. Kwan insisted I have the matching black clutch as well. "Tristan has a penchant for small details, so you might as well get the whole look right." We found some earrings in the 'costume jewelry' department at Bergdoffs that looked great--big black enamel buttons with a Chinese symbol inlaid in red crystals. The earrings were the only part of the ensemble that I had managed to find a price tag on.

"Holy shit, Kwan, these earrings are $424.00! And they aren't even real!"

"You're right, they're dime store crap, but Tristan will understand. You had to have
something
to wear in your ears."

"Kwan…?" He gave me a look that said "go on". "You're awfully good at this. Does
Tristan pull this
Pretty Woman
act frequently?"

"Frankly, I've only known him to do it once before…a long time ago."

Elsa
. Should I find that a good thing or a bad thing?

"The women Tristan usually dates can afford to dress themselves in style. They're after a lot more than a cocktail dress and a couple grand in shoes." He smiled at the shock on my face as I clutched the shoe bag a little tighter. "Besides, Raina, no one's got better taste than a gay man. If anyone can help a
pretty woman look her best, I can--
if
I want to."

"
You're…"

"Yes, I
am
one tough mutha of a body guard for an alpha guy who hasn't got a gay bone in his body. It works for us. Someday I'll tell you all about how we met but right now, I think you need to start primping." He ushered me into my suite and by the time Tristan rang the bell I looked like I
belonged
at The Plaza getting ready to have dinner at Le Bernardin with a billionaire.

Ten

I wish I could say I remembered every detail of that meal, every moment of the evening, but I can't.

A man like Tristan takes control of more than a 'situation'. I'd been able to keep my mind occupied
during the day with the whole dilemma facing my parents, with the dazzling experience of the great Plaza hotel, with the details of my outfit for the night and shopping with Kwan--but it was only because Tristan wasn't actually with me in the flesh. He had lurked at the fringes of my psyche, ever an influence, orchestrating the movement of my hours. But without his physical presence, I retained a sense of myself that seemed to evaporate once I could see Tristan, smell Tristan and feel the warmth of Tristan's hand on mine.

I couldn't watch him eat without remembering what it was like to kiss that mouth
. Or how that mouth felt on my breasts and how much I wanted to feel the pull of those lips on the lips between my thighs.

We sat side by side in a banquette where the tablecloth
curtained our laps. He ran his long fingers up to the top of the slit in my dress and teased at the lace on the thigh highs. One elegant finger trailed the line where my legs met my body. I could feel my clit tighten every time he came anywhere within range. My nipples remained pretty much in a constant state of alert when he was near me.

I flipped off a pump and teased the back of his leg with my stocking clad toes. He fiddled with tendrils of my hair at the back of my neck. He kissed my cheek; I touched his hand. There was much
'gazing into' of eyes. To anyone observing us, it was obvious that we were lovers.

There was something completely thrilling about realizing that we were sitting
in public
and Tristan was claiming me for all to see.  It was the same kind of rush I got from his attention at Brian's party. A 'look at me and look who wants me!' kind of buzz. It had me grinning all over on the inside.

I tried to concentrate on the important things Tristan was telling me throughout dinner. As concerned as I was for my parents' safety, you would think it wouldn't have been such an effort. But it was.

I finally had to ask him not to touch me. "Tristan, I can't think about what you're saying when you're stroking my neck like that."

"I'm sorry.
I can't keep my hands off of you. Be glad we're in this restaurant or I might never be able to give you a report on what I've accomplished today."

"Please, I need to hear it. Tell me."

He told me that he had hired a crack private investigator to look into exactly who the thugs were who assaulted my father and that he'd found an inside operative in the union who would be able to give him a better picture of exactly what was going on.

"I'll know more in a day or so. But I do think that until we can get to the bottom of it, your parents are better off away from their house."

"You're going to have a hard time convincing Dad that he shouldn't recuperate in his own bed. I know my father."

"And
I
know that the safety of the woman you love is more important than comfort or habit." He made this statement so solemnly that I knew he was referring to more than just my parents. The lost look in his eyes also betrayed him.

I knew he was thinking about Elsa. It took all my will not to try to steer the conversation toward dangerous ground. I can be my own worst enemy when it comes to things like that.

Thankfully, dessert came and I stuffed my mouth with a delicious
tarte tatin
instead of my foot.

***

Both of us knew how the night would end. With the exception of our brief conversation about my parents, the whole evening was one long seduction. The food was indescribably good and not nearly as pretentious as I had imagined it would be. Our conversation, while hardly deep, had a new familiarity about it.
We talked about safe, unthreatening subjects--tastes in music and books, favorite pastimes, what his work was like, what kind of job I hoped to find when summer was over. We laughed about the Little Theater and heaped praise on the playwright for his brilliant work.

Finally we stood at the door to the suite at the Plaza. My mother was long asleep upstairs in the master bedroom.

Tristan pulled me into his arms and kissed me long and hard. "Are you sure Marjorie is asleep?"

I nodded. "She even said she was going to take something to keep her from waking up in the middle of the night
. I'm sure we won't be disturbed." I slid the keycard through the slot. As I pushed the door open, Tristan leaned in from behind me and whispered in my ear.