All or Nothing at All
Page 35

“Sure.”
“Bye.”
She clicked off the phone and practically threw it across the table.
She would not get moon-eyed again over Tristan Pierce.
Not with this much to lose.
chapter ten

They walked out of the supplier’s office with a signed contract. One more to go.
Pride burned deep. It had taken many hours, but she’d gotten the majority to agree to a further 5 percent reduction. With Anthony Moretti on board, it was much easier to convince them to agree as a group and make this the first large-scale experiment working with a big property developer.
Tristan had been brilliant.
He let her lead, but his support was crucial. When the suppliers came back with complaints, he pondered their comments with a thoughtfulness that caused them to feel respected. She always admired his patience. It was a completely underrated virtue, but Tristan never made final decisions without carefully weighing all the options. That hard-won patience made him a brilliant businessman.
And in the bedroom, it made him a devastating lover.
They walked down Main Street. The lunch crowd was out, grabbing caffé mochas and paninis as they strolled the quaint sidewalks. Shop doors were flung open, even with the brisk air, and boats cut smoothly through the calm waters to head out to bigger horizons.
“Need to take a break?”
She hadn’t slept enough, had grabbed only a protein bar and apple for breakfast, and was still jumpy in his presence. But damned if she’d allow him to see weakness. “No. I’m good. Let’s go.”
They hit the last supplier, made their presentation, and closed the deal. In the hours they were gone, she fielded desperate calls from Charlie, who was just learning the office routine, and Dalton, who thought he’d already invoiced the order for teakwood but never received it. She managed to text her sitter to make sure Sydney got off the bus okay and chat with her daughter regarding getting her homework done earlier rather than later.
She rubbed her forehead, trying to ward off the faint headache threatening. She’d have to find a decent way to deal with the higher stress load. Maybe she should take up working out with Xavier with Raven. Maybe punching the crap out of a bag would make her feel like a limp biscuit and she wouldn’t care if she dropped one of the balls she constantly juggled in the air.
“You okay?”
His gentle concern bothered her. “Fine. I can handle this.”
“Never said you couldn’t. I just know you do that when you’re getting a headache. Follow me.”
He turned into the Millennium Café and ordered her a cappuccino with skim, an almond biscotti, and a bottle of water. After leading her over to a small bistro table, he sat down across from her and snapped open his leather briefcase. “I should have insisted we stop for lunch.” He reached in and pulled out a bottle of Advil. Shaking out two tablets, he held out his palm. “Here. Take these.”
Frustration nipped. How did he still know her so well? She had low blood sugar, and a skipped meal could occasionally affect her with a brutal headache. When they had been dating, she’d loved the way he fussed over her and made sure she’d had regular meals. Now it only made her feel silly, like she didn’t know how to take care of her own self.
He raised an eyebrow as if he knew her stubborn thoughts, then motioned toward the pills. Like a good girl, she took the tablets with a sip of water and began nibbling at the cookie.
“I hate when you act superior,” she grumbled. “I can handle a simple headache, Tristan. I’m not going to fall apart or wither onto the ground.”
He studied her with a sharp, assessing gaze, those gorgeous golden eyes roving over her features, then dropping to take in the snug fit of her polished black suit. Immediately her nipples tightened into hard points, and she squeezed her thighs together in punishment. He’d always had a way of looking at her as if he owned her. As if he knew he could casually slip his hand under her skirt, in a public place, and she wouldn’t be able to tell him no.
She’d never been able to tell him no.
“I’m sorry.” Her eyes widened in shock. Had he just apologized? “I keep forgetting you don’t need me to tell you things any longer. Not when to eat or how to close a deal, or what to say to a difficult customer. I just don’t like to see you in pain if I can help it, Sydney. That’s all this is about.”
His tenderness ripped away her strong protective walls, leaving her flapping back and forth in a restless wind. The fight left her body. This was the Tristan who’d stolen her heart. The one who deeply cared about the people around him and would do anything to keep them from harm. He was a caretaker, a peacemaker, and a man who loved to give. That was the man staring back at her right now, and there was no way she could turn from him.
“Then I’ll just say thank you.”
His full lips curved in a warm smile. She smiled back, cupping her mug between her hands, enjoying the sweet, hot brew. Silence settled around them like a comfy blanket. He checked his phone, his fingers flying over the screen in a flurry of texts. She took advantage of his distraction to study him with leisurely pleasure while she sipped her coffee.
“Now that we have everyone on board, are we ready to meet Adam on Friday?”
“Yes. Becca is sleeping over at her friend’s house after school, so I’m covered. Bring on the traffic.”
He grinned. “Slumber party, huh? Figured that wouldn’t start until her early teens.”
“There’re only two people I’d trust to allow her to sleep over, besides Morgan. I know the parents well, and they’re like family.”
“I wasn’t judging,” he said quietly. “I had no idea how hard it was until I got a taste Saturday night.” His face held a touch of apology. “I have a new level of respect for you being a single mom. She’s a great kid, and you’re amazing with her.”
Intensity lit the air between them. Warmth flowed through her. “Thanks.” She tried to lighten the mood. “Sometimes it’s hard to remember there’s no rule book for this. And the mom culture can be a bit judgy. Add that to the usual maternal guilt, and I’m a real bundle of fun.”
“Actually, you are. Watching you go apeshit on Bad Mom was hearty entertainment.”
She dropped her head into her open palm. “That wasn’t me at my best. I’m usually so much more restrained.”