“When I said we should have our coffee first,” she told him, hating the quiver in her voice, “I meant the whole cup.” Though the thought of drinking the entire mug made her shudder. Owning her own shop meant she couldn’t afford an overnight stay in the hospital because of food poisoning. And did she really want a brutal case of diarrhea while she had a houseguest?
“I do not wish to wait,” Tristan said. “I am anxious to learn more about this dating.”
He did sound eager. Maybe he’d figured out what she planned to ask and hoped to double? “Okay, okay.” Concealing another shudder, she scooted her coffee away. “I have something to ask you.”
“You have told me that much already.”
“I have?”
“Aye, you have.”
“Well, here goes.” Julia mentally rehearsed the impromptu speech one last time and nodded. I can do this, she thought just before a jolt of pure panic shot through her, shaking her resolve. Her heart rate increased, her breath coming in short, erratic pants. Was the light coming in from the window suddenly brighter? “Do you like cinnamon rolls?” she blurted out. “No. What about croissants? I make them from scratch and they melt in your mouth.”
“I am no longer hungry.”
“What about—”
“Julia.” Her name left his lips on a sigh of exasperation.
“Okay. All right.” She sat perfectly still and kept her eyes on the floor, focusing all her energy on her next words and managing to temper her trembling. Her need for romance left no room for pride. “Will you teach me how to seduce my next-door neighbor?”
CHAPTER SEVEN
You Live Only To Pleasure Your Mistress
TRISTAN NEARLY CHOKED on his coffee as a gamut of questions swept through his mind. Astonished and praying he had misheard, he demanded, “Repeat your last words.”
A visible force of determination surrounded Julia as she rushed out, “I want you to teach me how to entice Peter, my next-door neighbor.”
By Elliea, Tristan had never expected this. When she had mentioned dating, he’d assumed she hoped to date him.
Him.
“What need do you have of this male, Peter?” He spit the name. “I am here.”
She sputtered, opening and closing her mouth. “This isn’t about my body’s needs. This is about love. So yes, Peter is needed.”
“Love?” Tristan scoffed, not liking the idea of another man winning Julia’s affections, and liking even less that he cared. “Take it from me. No man is going to love you the way you probably dream. Love is a myth. Love gives instead of takes, yet I have never seen an example of this, not in all the days of my life.”
* * *
JULIA BRISTLED, and if she’d had a sword, Tristan felt certain she would have sliced off his favorite appendage. She looked fierce—she looked prettier than before, an inner glow seeming to radiate outwardly. How was that possible?
“Love is a myth for women like me, is that it?” she demanded to know. “You think I’m an unattractive hag destined to die alone?”
He bared his teeth, fury pricking him. How dare the woman say something so ludicrous about herself. “You are perfect just the way you are. Lovely.” Beyond lovely. “Anyone who says otherwise will taste my sword. I just did not want you to expect true love from this neighbor of yours.”
Lines of tension softened around her lips, and the knots in her shoulder muscles relaxed. “You’ve never even met him, so how do you know what he’s like?”
“I need not meet him to know he is a coward. Did he have an ounce of courage, he would beat down your door and demand that I leave.”
She rolled her eyes. “He doesn’t know you’re here.”
“Such a thing would not stop me from claiming what is mine.”
“Um, that’s the most illogical thing I have ever heard. Besides, we don’t go beating down people’s doors.”
“You do if you are fighting for your woman.”
“And you know this because you’ve had a woman to fight for?”
He pursed his lips. He’d never had a long-term relationship, because he’d enjoyed variety. The more women he’d pleased, the better he’d felt, physically, mentally and emotionally. Now? Variety had lost its appeal. He wanted…what did he want? “I know a man will fight for what he wants, if he wants it badly enough.”
She lifted her chin. “Peter will fight for me one day.” Her words were assured, but her tone was doubtful, even hesitant. “So will you help me or not?”
Tristan watched her chest rise and fall, her breaths labored. Throughout the night, as he’d listened to her toss and turn, a dark, carnal craving had grown within him. A hunger that surpassed his every reasoning. He wanted her. Wanted to see her expression come alive with passion. Wanted to hear her cry his name. Wanted to luxuriate in her softness. Her warmth.
But she didn’t want him. She wanted another man.
I desire this amusing, compassionate woman, and by Elliea, I will have her. So help her win another man? Nay!
“Why can you not lure this Peter on your own?” he demanded, then flicked his tongue over an incisor. “Have you tried and failed?”
“No, I haven’t tried and failed,” she grumbled.
“Why not?”
A long while stretched in silence. She fidgeted in her chair, her cheeks glowing with more rosy embarrassment. “I don’t know how, okay? I don’t have a good track record with men.”
“What do you mean? Did someone hurt you?” Fury sparked all over again.
“No, no. Nothing like that. I’m just…I’m shy, and when I’m with a handsome man my tongue seems to swell. Speaking intelligently is beyond my abilities.”
“You? Shy?” Certain she jested, he laughed. “You are many things, little dragon, but you most definitely are not shy.”
Tendrils of her hair, the palest locks of all, escaped the band and danced around her temples as she shook her head in denial. “If I were outgoing and bold, wouldn’t I know how to talk and act around men? Wouldn’t I
