She hated to admit it, but part of her eagerness to escape his family’s chaos had a lot to do with the draw of this man. In her line of work, she’d found herself frequently at the epicenter of familial disputes. It came with the territory of image curation.
But this felt different from her experience with any other client. Isabeau knew why too.
It had everything to do with the man with the charismatic, gruff demeanor.
She heard the distant bark of her dog and glanced over her shoulder to be sure Paige wasn’t fretting about being away from her. A quick check assured her that her yellow Lab was still enjoying playtime with her new pals—a husky named Kota and a Saint Bernard named Tessie.
Isabeau turned her attention back to Trystan, surprised at the ease in her steps. She didn’t feel the urgent need to have her dog close. A relaxed and mellow sensation flowed through her veins.
Along with a total awareness of this big, sexy man. An outdoorsman who danced with a confidence and smoothness that made her body burn.
And she couldn’t help but glory in the feeling. So many of her panic attacks stemmed from negative encounters with men.
Some of the males who had flocked to her beautiful, weary mother had crowded Isabeau.
And then came her college boyfriend, who’d never laid a hand on her but stole her privacy by stalking her every move until she’d been forced to take out a restraining order.
People could leave a scar on a person’s soul in so many ways.
Yet, something about Trystan put her at ease.
His total honesty.
He might be rough around the edges, but he was authentic and that kept her moving forward along with him. She would worry about the impropriety issue later. Right now, she could only think about how hot she’d found him since the first time she’d laid eyes on him.
Leading her inside, he flipped on the lights, the switch igniting the darkness in front of her with the warm glow of yellow-hued lamplight. Golden illumination revealed the luxury of even this aspect of the property.
Plush couches and well-appointed wooden furniture. A row of yellow two-person kayaks lined the wall farthest from them, complementing the neatly arranged fishing poles and nets. A powerboat docked in the water nearby, bobbing up and down, adjacent to a sitting area with Sedona-orange-colored cushions decorating a couch and two chairs. Waterproof, she realized, though they still seemed overstuffed...
Trystan turned a slow circle. “It’s definitely quieter here.”
She drew in a breath of the salt-laden air. “You did well at the wedding with the photo shoots.”
There hadn’t been media present, but still, he’d put on his game face for the shots to be released to the press.
“So I’ve earned my respite from the masses?”
“Is that what this is? An escape, a break?” She smoothed her silky dress, her fingers—her senses—hyperaware of every texture down to the timbre of his whiskey-smooth voice.
His blue eyes lit with a smile. “Actually, this was about getting time alone to talk to you about something other than work. I think we’ve both earned that. Do you agree? Or is it back to business for us?”
“I do agree,” she answered, wanting to linger in the mellowness between them a while longer.
“Good, good.” He strode toward the refrigerator and opened it, surveying the contents. “Ahh... What have we here?”
He pulled out a bottle of beer bearing the Mikkelson family brewery label—Icecap. He glanced at Isabeau. “There’s wine and water, as well.”
Inclining his head, he suggested they make their way over to the sitting area.
“The beer sounds good, but the water is probably safer for me, with my diabetes, after everything I enjoyed at the reception.” She eyed the deck of cards on the table suspiciously. “Why the cards?”
He dropped onto the sofa, his body relaxed. Open. Inviting, as he handed her the water bottle. Their hands brushed, a crackle passing between them.
A blush heated her face, warmth spreading further until her body tingled with awareness. She sipped the water, suddenly so very thirsty, then set it on the table alongside the two decks of cards.
“I’m not luring you here to play strip poker. Scout’s honor. I’m still learning my way around the Steeles’ home but Broderick invited me out here for one of their card games—and a drink. I guess this is a man cave of sorts.” He tipped back a swig of his beer. “I got the impression you’d had enough of the crowds too.”
“It has been a full day.” She offered up the minimal concession.
She played down her anxiety. Always. Very few people knew how she suffered. For a painstaking moment, she wondered if there’d been a hint of her discomfort today—the very thing she labored to hide. A small well of anxiety bubbled in her stomach at the thought, the reality of her condition threatening to break loose. She found herself reaching for her dog only to remember she’d left Paige out playing with the husky and Saint Bernard.
One steadying breath settled her nerves and she decided to stay put rather than bolt.
“So, Isabeau, what made you choose this line of work?” His sky blue eyes narrowed as he leaned forward, his knee just bumping hers.
Her heart hammered, the musky scent of him teasing her every breath. She spoke, even as she found her gaze locked with his, unable to look away. “I have a degree in marketing and public relations. I did some work in the media world, even reporting for a while, but found I’m more comfortable behind the scenes.”
“I bet the cameras loved you.”
“Thank you for the compliment.” She reached for her water bottle, the condensation seeming to cool her down, to give her a sense of stability even though another part of her wondered what his lips tasted like. She avoided his eyes, hesitant to bring up the
