that make you happy?” The same part of him dared her to deny it.
She didn’t. “Yes, it makes me happy.”
And as if that was that, she lay her head back and closed her eyes. Tristan couldn’t stop the chuckle that formed deep in his throat. He wanted to ask her to explain herself, but halted the impulse. Why had she gotten possessive all of a sudden? Not that he was complaining. Still, he couldn’t help but be curious.
Feeling rather smug, he put his head back and closed his eyes, too, remembering the past week. She’d spent the whole week in his guest room and hadn’t returned home. He hadn’t asked when she was leaving and she hadn’t volunteered any information. They simply lived under the same roof in harmony as if it was nothing unusual for him to wake up each morning and find her there and to say good-night to her when he turned in for bed.
He figured it was something about spending so much time at her house—the one she’d shared with Marc—that bothered her, and he was more than satisfied with going to bed at night knowing she was down the hall.
It had been downright difficult to get her to take a trip, but finally he’d managed to work out a deal with her. She was hell-bent on finding this fourth woman, so he had agreed to help her do so if she would get away for a while. So now here they were on a plane in the middle of the week, flying to San Francisco for a few days. He had even tried to get her to agree to a full week, but she had refused, saying that she wouldn’t be able to rest until she found the fourth woman.
Chris had a few leads but had agreed not to do anything until they met with him. As Tristan had explained to Marc’s brother, there was something driving Danielle to be the one to bring closure to what had happened. Somehow he knew it would only be then that she got some kind of emotional relief.
Danielle slowly opened her eyes, tilted her head and looked over at Tristan. His eyes were closed. She wondered what he was thinking about. Was he beginning to think she was a pain in the behind? Was he wondering when she would finally pack up her stuff and leave his house?
She knew she probably should do so soon, but the thought of going home dampened her already low spirits. She couldn’t deal with the anger she felt each and every time she thought about Marc and all the things he’d done.
Deciding to read a book, she reached into her carry-on to grab the mystery novel she had started yesterday.
“You okay?” Tristan asked.
She glanced over at him again. His dark eyes were studying her intently. “Yes. Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“I wasn’t asleep. Just resting.”
“Oh.”
“So, what do you have planned for us when we get to San Francisco?” he asked.
“I thought we’d do some sightseeing and a little shopping.”
His eyes widened, as if she’d said a bad word. “Shopping?”
“Yes. You’ve been shopping with me before.”
“I know. Don’t remind me.”
She chuckled. “Was it that bad?”
“No, to be honest, it was worse.
She playfully punched him in the shoulder.
“Hey, take it easy on me, will you? That hurt,” he said, rubbing the spot.
“You’re a strong man. You can take it.”
“Yeah, but it’s getting harder and harder for me to take you, Dani.”
She stared at him, wondering what he meant by that. She parted her lips to ask, and as if he knew what her question would be, he placed his finger to her lips, smiled and said, “Remind me to tell you later.”
Danielle felt the elegance of the hotel the moment they walked through the front doors into the spacious atrium, with its marble floors and myriad, healthy-looking, potted plants. As she and Tristan stepped into the elevator, she said, “I hope you don’t mind that I got us a suite.”
He glanced at her. “Why should I mind? I’m getting used to having you around.”
She smiled. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
“It depends, Dani. If you begin talking business it will become a bad thing.”
She laughed. “Okay, I promise not to talk business. I even promise not to be in the same room with you whenever you pull out your BlackBerry. But it seems to me that you’re the one who’s having a hard time remembering we’re here to relax.”
“I’ll relax once that huge Smithfield order leaves the warehouse. We promised them that entire shipment would arrive at its destination by Friday.”
“And it will, so chill,” she said, easing closer to him when another couple got on the elevator.
“Okay, I’ll chill, but I want you to do the same. And if you begin talking about Marc, I’ll throttle you. For the next five days I want you to rest and relax and only think of good things.”
“Considering how my life has gone lately, that will be hard.”
“Try doing so, anyway.”
Danielle decided this was not a good time to mention that she had made Alex and Renée promise to keep in touch and let her know if there were any new developments about the fourth woman. When she had told them she would be going to San Francisco for a few days and with whom, they’d seem overjoyed. It was a waste of time trying to convince them that they were barking up the wrong tree with their assumptions about her and Tristan, but she figured now that they had men in their lives they were desperately trying to find someone for her. She was genuinely happy for Alex and Renée and was glad what Marc had done hadn’t left any permanent scars.
And she did intend to get on with her new life once she brought closure to her past. Men had a tendency to hit on her all the time, and lately, since word had gotten around that she was a widow, they’d become a little bold. She was grateful that, thanks to Chris, the media hadn’t gotten wind of what Marc had done. The tabloids were always looking for a way to link her with someone, but after she’d married Marc they figured there was nothing new and exciting in her life and had pretty much left her alone for the past five years. If only they knew.
She glanced over at Tristan and knew that one of the reasons men weren’t hitting on her more was him. The two of them were always together, and a number of people had the same assumption as Alex and Renée that something was going on between them.
She had mentioned this to Tristan a few times, not wanting those rumors to ever ruin things between him and a woman. He’d told her not to worry about it and to let people think whatever they wanted.
She figured he wasn’t all that concerned because he wasn’t dating anyone exclusively now. As far as she knew, he wasn’t dating at all. She would probably be the first to know, since she hung out with him so much. At night he was at home with her and when he went out, it was with her. No wonder people thought something was going on between them.
Maybe, she thought now, it was a subject she should
