suggesting I shouldn’t ask questions about you?”
“I’m asking that you respect the privacy of others.” She moistened her lips, and the sweet warmth of her kiss licked through his veins again. “You said this was between you and me, but it’s not. You will hurt others, if you go around asking questions and starting rumors and drawing attention to our feud. Think about it, please. Think about doing the right thing.”
Standing so close, Tristan felt the candor of her appeal reach out and take a grip. She’d never asked anything of him before, not so directly, not with a please that chased the memory of her taste and the scent of her hair on a wild scrambling scurry beyond his blood and his male hormones to a closely guarded place beyond.
“I am doing the right thing,” he assured her … and reminded himself. “I’ve never doubted that.”
For a brief instant he thought there was more, a response or another appeal, and deep in his gut he hoped for the latter. A please, Tristan that was only about them and had nothing to do with their conflict. But then she pressed her lips together and just before she slid into the driver’s seat, he glimpsed something else deep in her eyes, something that shifted like a darkening shadow.
Whatever was going on with her, he would find out.
Steel coated his resolve and his voice as he watched the glossy vehicle glide from beneath the hotel portico onto the street. “If you have nothing to hide, duchess, then why that appeal? What do you have to fear? And who the hell are you protecting?”
A block away from the Marabella, Vanessa expelled a soft gust of held back breath. Finally she was able to breathe and think again—two basics she had difficulty with in Tristan’s company. And now she was functioning at something like normality, the tight, sick feeling she’d experienced earlier returned with a vengeance.
Tonight had been a complete waste of time. Had she really thought she could sit at the same table and pretend he hadn’t turned her world on its head with his arrival and his condemnation and his hot-blooded kiss?
“Not a kiss,” she reminded herself vehemently, and a fat lot of good that did! Rolling her shoulders and gripping the steering wheel tightly did not halt the rush of heat, either. Even now, all these hours later, she could still feel the sizzle.
What was that about?
The sad part was, Vanessa didn’t know. She’d never experienced anything like this before. Ever. No boyfriends, no stolen kisses, no illicit make out sessions. Nothing but work and caring for Lew and then a whole new world of opportunity through her friendship with Stuart Thorpe.
“Why him?” She thumped the steering wheel with one fisted hand. “Why did it have to be him?”
Tonight, unfortunately, she’d witnessed an unexpected side to her nemesis. Smiling in the moonlight, challenging her over his kissing technique, charming and at ease with Frank Forrester, showing her to her car like a gentleman.
She growled low in her throat and thumped the wheel again.
And what are you going to do about it, duchess?
Hearing the silent question in his dark chocolate drawl did not help her mood of frustrated disquiet.
“Nothing,” she muttered, but that response hung over her like a dark-shadowed indictment of her failure tonight. She shifted in her seat and reconsidered. Okay. About this unwanted attraction, she would do nothing.
But that wasn’t her real problem …
She still had no proof of the letter’s validity, and he believed he had grounds to steal her security and Lew’s future away from her.
Paused at an intersection, she checked for traffic. Down the street to her left stood the offices of Cartwright and Associates, a place she’d come to know oh so well in the past two years. The place where she should have taken the news of Tristan’s arrival and allegations this afternoon.
As Stuart’s lawyer and now hers, Jack Cartwright was one of the handful of people who knew about Lew, and right now she could do with his clear head and logical approach. She checked the dashboard clock and winced. Although Jack and his wife Lily were close friends, they were expecting their first baby in a month’s time and calling this late felt like an imposition.
Not that she wasn’t tempted … but, no. First thing in the morning she would call and arrange a meeting. The earlier the better.
After sleeping poorly Vanessa was up and dressed before dawn, but she managed to hold off calling the Cartwright home until seven o’clock. Then she kicked herself because Jack had gone into the office already. She exchanged small talk with Lily for all of six seconds before the other woman picked up on the strain in her voice. “Is everything all right, Vanessa?”
“No, not really. Tristan Thorpe’s in town.” Which, really, was the sum total of her problems. “I need to talk to Jack. I’ll call him at the office.”
“I have a better idea. Why don’t you come over here and have breakfast with us?” Lily suggested. “Jack will be home in an hour or so. He went in early to brief an associate on a court appearance because he’s taking the morning off. Doctor’s appointment.”
“Is everything all right?”
Lily chuckled. “As far as I know, but Mr. Protective insists on taking me, every time.”
Vanessa didn’t want to intrude on their morning plans but Lily insisted. And right on eight o’clock she was following her heavily pregnant friend into the kitchen of the Cartwrights’ two-story colonial home. And it was a home, as bright and cheerful and welcoming as the glowing Lily.
Lily was a recent addition to the circle of friends known as the Debs Club and Vanessa had felt an immediate kinship. Possibly because she, too, had grown up in a tough environment unlike the rest of the group who truly were debs. Lily, too, had struggled to fit into this privileged society in the early months of her marriage, but she and Jack had worked things out and now the happiness she deserved showed on her face.
“Jack’s not home yet.” Lily rolled her eyes but with a cheerfulness that said she didn’t mind. Her man would be home soon and that suited her fine. “I called to let him know you were coming over so he shouldn’t be long. Can I get you coffee? Tea? Juice?”
“Oh, please, you don’t have to wait on me. Sit down.”
“And take a weight off?”
“Yes. Exactly.” For the first time she let her eyes rest on the other woman’s belly and she felt an unfamiliar twinge of longing, a reaction she hid behind a smile. “Are you sure that’s not twins in there?”
“Sometimes I swear there are three.” Lily paused in the middle of making a pot of tea. Her expressive blue eyes grew dreamy. “Not that I would mind.”
Of course she wouldn’t. Her down-to-earth honesty combined with her caring nature and a street-smart wisdom had made her a wonderful social worker and would make her an equally wonderful mother.
Lucky kids, Vanessa thought, and the pang in her middle intensified.
“So.” Teapot in hand, Lily waddled across to the table and lowered herself carefully into a chair. “Tell me about Tristan Thorpe.”
For once Vanessa was relieved to bring him into the conversation—anything to stifle this bizarre attack of motherhood envy. She had no idea where that had sprung from, all of a sudden. “He arrived yesterday. He’s staying at the Marabella. He’s even more aggravating face-to-face.”
“You’ve seen him already?” Lily propped her chin in a hand, all eager-eyed curiosity. “Do tell.”
Where should she start? What could she say without giving away the depth of her confusion and conflict? Just saying face-to-face had brought a guilty warmth to her cheeks, mostly because it put her in mind of mouth-to-mouth.
And hadn’t