Her breath came out in uneven bursts. The memory of those carved lips over hers was stamped in her brain. The rush of his warm breath, the thrust of his hot tongue claiming her as his, the glorious strength of his arms holding her tight as he devoured her on his own terms. Damn him. He couldn’t rip away her life twice. Once was enough, and playing this dangerous game threatened to steal her very sanity.
She avoided the question and concentrated on her frustrated fury. “We both have an opportunity to work on something important, and I refuse to let a fit of lust ruin my chance. I have a daughter to think of, and a life I built on my own. So, no, Tristan, I have no desire to revisit the past or move forward with you. There’s too much at stake for me to blow it up for a quick roll in the hay.”
“It would never be quick. And I’d never let it affect the work.”
The confident, masculine response weakened her knees. He’d always been a controlled, demanding lover who liked to be in charge—and didn’t believe in the quickie. She was so glad she was sitting. “I need you to back off and respect my wishes. I can’t—I can’t do this with you again.” She lifted her chin and met his stare head-on. “Ever.”
The flash of regret was gone so quickly she’d probably imagined it. He nodded quickly, then stood. “We’d better head back.”
They walked back to the car in the same silence they’d begun with.
Because of rush hour, construction, and an accident that blocked up a lane on 287, they reached Harrington hours past their ETA. Most of the drive had been spent discussing the project and making a preliminary list of things to accomplish. After their walk back from the park, Tristan had steered the conversation toward business to keep the peace. He’d forgotten how nice it was to talk shop with a woman. Sydney had always been sharp, but watching her take charge and exhibit ambition simply turned him on.
He kept wondering what she’d be like once he dragged her back into bed.
Dangerous thoughts, especially since she had made her intentions well-known. At least her intentions not to sleep with him.
“We’re so late,” she said. Her foot shook nervously over her crossed leg. “What time is it?”
“Almost eight. Got big plans for the evening?”
“Yep. I have to pick up my dress from the cleaner’s and head back to the city for the Met Gala. Then I made a cocktail date afterward on top of the Marriott Marquis.”
“I sense sarcasm.”
She rolled her eyes. “You sense right. Such is the plight of the single mom. I have to get up early tomorrow and get my oil changed in the car, grocery shop, pick up extra tights at Target, do laundry, and get to a dance recital at night.”
“For Becca?”
“No, it’s my debut at the Paramount Theater.”
“I sense much anger within you.”
A strangled laugh escaped her lips. “Sorry, I’m stressed. I get bitchy sometimes.”
“Wow, and I thought I was busy. Now I feel like a slug. I can’t even seem to get to my workout with Raven’s trainer without bitching, and I only have to take care of myself.”
“And you said yes?” she practically screeched. “Xavier is legendary. What if you damage yourself?”
Disgust laced his voice. “Dalton manages. I think I’m just as equipped.”
“Dalton’s younger.”
“You’re right. You are bitchy when you’re stressed.”
He enjoyed the sound of her laugh, open and infectious. She didn’t laugh as much around him anymore. She was too buttoned up and afraid to show any emotion.
“Dalton’s never babysat this long for Becca before.”
“I’m sure they’re both fine. There’s never been a female Dalton couldn’t handle.”
He pulled into the winding pathway of the Pierce family mansion and cut the engine. The glow of headlights flashed on the two giant figures perched in perfect stillness, flanking the massive door.
Sydney sucked in a breath. “Oh, no, what should we do?”
He considered the problem, but even now, he watched their twin bodies shake with suppressed emotion. They rose to full height, which was intimidating as hell, since they reached all the way to his shoulders. Their muscles were brutal and built to withstand any type of attack.
“We have no choice. I’ll get out first. Stay here till I signal it’s safe.”
“Will you be okay?”
“I got this.”
He turned off the lights and opened the car door quietly. With deliberate, slow movements meant not to threaten, he climbed out and put his hands in the suddenly charged air. “Hey, guys. It’s me. No need to freak out, now. Right?”
They quivered. A low wail broke from their lips, like that of a coyote suddenly faced with a juicy steak.
“I mean it, no more of this behavior. I’ve had enough. Now I’m going to walk toward you, and you are going to stay—stay—STAY—ah, hell!”
They leapt through the air like Santa’s flying reindeer and hit him full force, sending him staggering backward. As he flailed his hands in total indignity, they whipped him with a tongue bath, shoving their warm bodies against him with abandon in affection and canine joy.
Sydney’s laugh echoed through the air, but most of the dogs’ insane energy had lost its sharp edge. They only bumped into her with gentle affection, offering a few licks. “Are they ever going to outgrow this behavior?” she asked.
He lifted hands coated with saliva and looked down at his once-perfect pants, now covered in dog hair. “Ugh. Cal sent them to a third obedience school, but they were dismissed early for a refund.”
“They never trample Becca, though,” she commented.
“They must sense she’s like a tiny mouse they want to protect rather than eat.” They headed to the door, and the dogs accompanied them in, jumping in happiness to get more company. The sound of Dalton’s voice drifted in the air, followed by a giggle.
They rounded the corner, and Becca let out a squeal, running into her mother’s arms. “Mama! Uncle Dalton and I had so much fun, I had chicken for dinner with the potato fries I like, and we made friendship bracelets, and I made you one!”
“You did? Let me see. Oh, I love it.”
He watched Sydney examine the bright pink-and-yellow-braided fabric, face alight with genuine pleasure. Watching their heads bent together, arms entwined, faces close, he felt a pain rip at his gut and a yearning that knocked him off his ass.
It was like seeing Sydney young again. He studied her daughter, with her bright red hair now contained in a ponytail. Already the curly strands broke free in rebellion and fell across her cheeks and nape. Fair skin with a generous smattering of freckles. Bright green eyes swirled with gold, full of curiosity and a zest for life that humbled him. She was all long, lanky legs like a young colt out of the gate. Her favorite color seemed to be pink, from her leggings, sneakers, and long-sleeved T-shirt with a cat in a tiara.
“Say hi,” Sydney prodded.
“Oh, sorry, hi, Tristan!”
“Hi, Becca.” She called his brothers Uncle. Not him. For some reason, she only used his first name. Not that he was great with kids. They puzzled him, and he’d always preferred the company of adults and cocktails to children’s games and juice boxes.