Читать книгу Claimed by the Millionaire: The Wealthy Frenchman's Proposition - Katherine Garbera, Michelle Celmer - Страница 18

Eleven

“I’m home,” Tristan said as he walked into his apartment a little after ten o’clock one week later. He’d had a late dinner meeting and, for the first time since Cecile’s death, he was coming home late not to servants and an empty house but to someone.

Sheri came down the hallway with a book in one hand and a pair of reading glasses on. She smiled at him. “How was it?”

“Not too bad. I think we will be launching a cooking magazine in the early fall next year.”

“Good. I think that’s great. Do you have any meetings you’re going to need me to set up?”

“Yes, but I do not want to talk about that tonight.”

Her smile turned suggestive. “What do you want to talk about then?”

“My woman.”

“Your woman?”

She was sassing him and he had to admit he enjoyed it. He’d been unsure what living with Sheri would be like, but after the first night he’d realized that he made a good decision. He’d made love to Sheri twice last night, and then again in the morning before they’d left for work.

Having breakfast and then heading into the office together underscored to him what a great companion Sheri was. She suited his life perfectly. And the fact that she loved him made it all the sweeter.

“Were you waiting up?”

“Sort of.”

“Why?”

She shrugged and he was starting to realize that’s what she did when she didn’t want to answer. It was her way of not lying about anything, of hiding when she felt that answering would leave her vulnerable.

“Will you come into the kitchen with me?” he asked, shrugging out of his jacket. He hung it in the hall closet and then loosened his tie.

“Yes,” she said. “Are you hungry? Mrs. Ranney made a pie.”

His New York housekeeper was a whiz in the kitchen.

“Did you have any?” he asked, following her down the short hallway into the kitchen.

“No. I wasn’t hungry earlier.”

“Will you have a piece with me?”

“Maybe a small slice. I try not to eat after seven.”

“Why?”

“Because unlike you, I don’t work out every day.”

“You could,” he said, settling at the breakfast bar while Sheri moved around the kitchen. She found plates and cut them both a piece of pie. She was more at ease in his house than he was.

“You don’t need to work out, ma petite. You look lovely as you are.”

She arched one eyebrow at him. “Really?”

“Honestly. You have a sexy little body that I can’t get enough of.”

She blushed and smiled at him. “Then I should keep doing what I’ve been doing, and that’s not eating late at night.”

“Milk, coffee or some kind of after-dinner drink?”

She leaned over the breakfast bar to slide his plate in front of him. He took her chin in his hand and kissed her long and slow. Now he felt as if he was home. The home he found in her eyes and in her arms.

She pulled back, looking bemused, and he smiled inside. He loved that she was so guileless about how attractive she was and about the effect she had on him.

She turned away, grabbing a napkin and fork for him. “Did you want a drink?”

“Yes. Milk, please.”

She poured him a glass and then brought her plate around to his side of the counter and sat down next to him.

He realized he wasn’t interested in food. He’d forgotten what it was like to have a woman in his home. To have a woman take care of him.

“Mrs. Ranney said that strawberry-rhubarb was your favorite.”

“It used to be.”

“Do you want me to get you something else?” she asked.

“Yes.”

She started to hop off her stool, and he lifted her up and settled her on his lap. “What are you doing?”

“Having something sweet.”

“I didn’t realize I was sweet.”

“You’re tongue is sharp, but your kisses, ma petite, they are very sweet.”

“So are yours,” she said. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held him close. “I missed you tonight. Your apartment is so big. I felt very lonely without you.”

Lonely. That was a word he’d learned to ignore for a long time.

He thought about the future, and for the first time he realized he was looking at the future. One that he wanted with Sheri. Not as his wife, because he’d already given his name to the one woman who’d owned his heart.

But he did want her to stay with him. Wanted Sheri to be in his life, and not just at work.

“You’re staring at me,” she said. “Why?”

“Because I like the way you look at me.”

“Ah, ego. I should have known.”

He just shook his head. Then kissed her one more time, because he couldn’t resist her mouth when it was this close.

He lifted her in his arms and carried her down the hall to his bedroom. Laying her in the center of his bed, he came down over her, bracing his weight on his forearms so that there was a small gap between their bodies.

“I want you to live with me.”

“I am living with you,” she said.

“I mean, even after the engagement party and my family goes home.”

“Am I here for them?” she asked.

“No, ma petite. You are here for me, and I’m asking you to stay.”

Sheri held her breath as Tristan lowered himself over her. She would never say it out loud, but she loved the feel of him on top of her. It made their relationship real when, after they made love, she’d wrap her arms and legs around him and just hold him, pretending she never had to let go.

But now, she thought, she might not have to let go. She didn’t know what he meant by asking her to stay, but it sounded positive. She couldn’t believe she’d waited so long to move in with him. Granted it had only been for a little over a week. But their lives had meshed together.

She liked living with him. For the first time in her entire life, she felt like she was in the place where she was meant to be with the man to whom she belonged.

“What do you mean?”

“That I want you to stay with me, and not just as my temporary fiancée. I want this to be permanent.”

She felt a rush of joy and she tipped her head back, blinking so he wouldn’t see the tears in her eyes. She took a deep breath and felt the gentle stroking of his finger against the side of her cheek.

“So what do you think?”

Her gaze met his and she tried to read the emotions there, but as always she had no idea what he was feeling. But she knew what she felt. She loved this man. She wanted nothing more than to say she was his and live the rest of her life with him.

“I think yes. I’d love to spend the rest of my life with you.”

He gave her a tight smile and kissed her. “Great.”

“Great? That’s all you can say?”

“It seemed more appropriate than ‘get naked.’”

She laughed and hugged him tightly to her. “Get naked would work.”

“Really?”

“Yes!”

He laughed then, and she felt a sense of rightness deep down in her soul. In that empty part that had been hollow since her father had left all those long years ago.

He started to unbutton her blouse and she put her hands in his thick hair, rubbing the back of his scalp as he undressed her. She thought of the wedding plans she’d put off making, because planning a wedding she wasn’t going to follow through with had seemed like torture. But now she could stop putting off Blanche and really start thinking about the kind of bride she’d be.

“When do you want to get married? I know we’d been putting off picking a date because of the pretense, but now that we’re going through with it things are different.”

Tristan stopped unbuttoning her blouse and lifted himself off of her body. “Married?”

“Isn’t that what you meant, Tristan? If we’re going to live together permanently…”

He pushed completely off her and sat on the edge of the bed, his back to her. And she realized he hadn’t meant marriage. “What were you thinking?”

“That we’d live together,” he answered.

“What’s the difference in living together and being married?” she asked. “Everyone already thinks we’re engaged.”

“I don’t give a damn what everyone thinks. We both know that we aren’t really engaged,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at her.

She shook her head, fiddling with the ring he’d given her, and realized that her shirt was unbuttoned and she was still laying in the middle of his bed. She sat up and quickly refastened her shirt.

“I don’t know what to think anymore,” she said, climbing off the king-size bed. “I never know what to expect from you, Tristan.”

“I do not understand,” he said.

And for the first time, she realized that he really didn’t understand what she was talking about. Because Tristan was always looking out for himself. For his own desires, his own safety. She had been thinking that because he showered her with attention and gifts, he was caring for her.

“I love you. Do you remember that?”

He stood up and walked over to her. He touched her so softly, tracing the lines of her face with his fingertip. “I do remember it. Hearing you say you love me is something that I think about a lot.”

“And…?”

“And that’s why I want us to continue living together.”

She staggered back away from him. “Did you ask me because you feel sorry for me?”

He shook his head. “I asked because I’m tired of being alone. And you bring something to my life that I never thought to find again.”

“Love,” she said. “I bring love to your life.”

“No, you bring that to yourself. To me you bring companionship and friendship…an end to the loneliness I’ve felt when I’m around other couples.”

She didn’t know what to say. Because she had the feeling that he’d asked her to live with him out of pity. She realized for the first time that her father had done her a huge favor by leaving. Because Tristan staying with her out of guilt or pity made her feel worse than being left behind.

“What are you going to do?” Tristan asked Sheri. He could tell that things weren’t going the way he wanted them to. If there were a way for him to go back ten minutes, he would have kept his mouth shut.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do. Obviously I gave you my word that I’d stay with you until the party and that’s…in two days, right? So after the party I’ll move back to the brownstone.”

He knew he shouldn’t be mad at Sheri. But he was. If she wasn’t so stuck in her bourgeois American idea of what a relationship should be, then he’d have everything he wanted. “Running back to your favorite hiding place?”

“I’m not running,” she said, crossing her arms around her waist and staring up at him with those big wounded doe eyes.

But this time he didn’t let the eyes affect him. He knew better. She was as manipulative as the other women he’d dated. The ones that had always wanted to be Mrs. Tristan Sabina and had schemed to get there. Sheri was the same, she just went about it differently. “It sure seems that way from where I’m standing. You said you loved me, and now that I won’t marry you…you’re going back to the same place you’ve always run to.”

She dropped her arms and stalked over to him. “Well, you’d know all about running. Of course, you hide out in the public eye. Dating a bunch of different shallow women. Acting like nothing in life affects you.”

Tristan couldn’t argue with that. “What do you want from me?”

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t hedge, Sheri. Tell me what you want. How can I make this right for you?”

She turned away and then glanced back at him. “You could love me.”

He didn’t know how to answer that. “I’m…I can’t do that.”