"No need. I understand," I said with a pout.
Spinning me around, he forced me to look at him as he explained, "No, you don't. I didn't think you'd want to announce our engagement to the world this way. I know how private you are, and I love that. I don't need anyone else to know how much I love you as long as you know. But eventually the world is going to find out. I just didn't want it to find out this way."
I couldn't disagree with that. This way, I'd have the chance to tell Kim and Jordan first.
"Okay. I can see your point."
Smiling that warm smile I'd loved since the first night I met him, Tristan pulled me to him and held me tight as he whispered in my ear, "I love you. Tell Jordan I said hi and she's welcome to stay at the hotel for as long as she likes."
God, when he said things like that, I had a hard time remembering that sometimes he really did things that pissed me off. How was I supposed to stay mad at him when he was so sweet and thoughtful to not only me but my best friend?
Hugging him, I said, "One of these days I'm going to figure out how you make me love you so much, Tristan Stone. One of these days."
He pulled away and smiled as he cupped my chin with his palm. "Then that's the day I'll have to figure out a new way."
Chapter Twenty-Two
Jordan and I spent hours poring over thick, glossy bridal magazines, oohing and ahhing over the most gorgeous dresses I'd ever seen. Every few pages we'd find another one that we added to the list of "possibles" and fold over the corner of the page so that by the time we were done, the magazines had grown to twice their original size.
My call to my sister went as I thought it would. She couldn't believe her baby sister was getting married and had at least a dozen reasons why I shouldn't marry someone I'd only known for a few months and why they couldn't just pick up and leave to go on a vacation to some island in the middle of December. After her lengthy lecture on how marriage was a serious step that should be taken only after two people knew each other for much longer than six months, I explained that it was an all-expense paid trip for her and her family and if she didn't want to be there, so be it.
Jordan was much easier to convince. I don't think I had gotten the complete story about our island wedding plans out of my mouth before she was jumping out of her chair and racing around the hotel suite rambling about all the things she had to do at work to be able to go. But most importantly, she promised she'd be there, standing next to me as my maid of honor.
By the time I arrived back at the house, the Executive Home people were nowhere to be found. I threw the mail Jenson had picked up at the apartment on the desk in the bedroom and set out to look for Tristan. I found him sitting at his desk in his office looking particularly tired.
"Hey, you. How did your photo shoot go? Did they love the house?"
He looked up at me standing in the doorway and forced a smile. "It was fine. You know how I hate pictures."
"You look exhausted. Tell me what I can do." I leaned over behind him and nuzzled his neck. "A nice massage?"
He hung his head and cracked his neck. "I'd love that. I have to get ready for one of those goddamn events tonight."
My hands eased the tension from his shoulders and neck, which felt like they were twisted into tight knots. "Just remember it's for charity."
Pinching the bridge of his nose, he grumbled, "Not this time. This time it's pure promotion. The Richmont is hosting the release party for some author's new book."
"Why do you have to be there?"
"The board loves to have me at these things. Any time the hotel is featured in some book or movie, they love to build the whole thing up. It's ridiculous, but as the face of the business, I have to be there."
"You mean the hotel was part of the book's story?"
Blowing air out in a heavy sigh, he nodded. "Yeah. It's the setting for a good portion of the book, I guess. Thank God it's not a murder mystery or my lawyers would be suing the poor author for all she's worth."
"Oh. Well, it won't be so bad. You'll have one of the actresses there and you'll be able to practice your looking-like-a-statue skills," I said with a laugh.
He lifted his head. "I have a better idea. Come with me."
"What?"
He spun around in his chair and faced me. "Come with me. It's only a matter of time before we tell the world about us, and at least we won't be the focus tonight. You'll get to see what you'll be facing from now on. I promise to even smile."
"The press will know for sure there's something going on if you smile, Tristan."
"Then it's settled," he said suddenly looking much happier.
I shook my head as the realization of what he wanted me to do settled into my brain. I had no dress to wear to an event like this. I had no practice dealing with the public or the press. My hair and makeup would need to be done.
Shaking my head, I backed away from him. "No, Tristan. I don't have anything I need to be able to go. I don't have anything to wear."
"No problem. Let me take care of that." Turning around toward his desk, he dialed the phone and said, "Angelo, it's Tristan Stone. I need a gown, red or black, for the same client you handled before and I want to see your choices at my house in Duchess County in an hour."
Angelo said something that pleased him because he smiled broadly as he hung up the phone. I walked to the side of the desk and folded my arms across my chest. "Same client you handled before? I thought you said you picked out all those clothes that day."
Turning on the charm, he pulled me back to sit on his lap. He traced the outline of my lips with his fingertip and said, "I'm guilty. It was a little white lie. I trust Angelo, so it's like I picked them out myself anyway."
"Actually, I think I'm okay with you not picking out my outfits. It has a weird vibe to it and there's something about you knowing that much about women's clothes that I'm not really feeling."
"That's good because other than wanting to tear them off you at times, I don't know much about them. But Angelo does, so don't worry. He'll make sure you have a dress worthy of you."
Worthy of me? Never before in my life had I thought of clothes in terms of anything being worthy of me. If something fit and I liked it, I bought it. Its worthiness or mine was never an issue. A dress worthy of me sounded like another sign that I wasn't ready for this party.
"Are you sure about this?" I asked quietly as he busied himself with shutting down his laptop.
He looked up with a quizzical expression on his face. "Sure about what?"