She jolted at his presence, then flattened a hand over her heart and stepped toward him. “Tristan? Is something wrong?”
What would she do if there were something wrong? Try to make it better?
Yes. Yes, she would. This woman… He felt as if he were seeing her for the first time. She wasn’t plain, or cute, or pretty, or anything else he’d previously thought. She was exquisite. Gorgeous beyond measure. She was life, the epitome of beauty, and it almost hurt to gaze upon her.
In that moment, he felt unworthy of her glance.
What. Just. Happened?
The last vestiges of his anger evaporated, and he shook his head in shock. How had she slain his riotous emotions so quickly? How had she made him feel so conflicted and yet so content at the same time?
He racked his brain for something to say and ended up muttering, “I thank you for the underwear, Julia.”
“You’re welcome,” she said, dropping her arm to her side. A small smile bloomed, only to fall. “I really didn’t mean to hurt you, Tristan. I—”
“I know. And it is okay,” he replied, borrowing one of her favorite words. He propped one shoulder against the door frame. Fragrant steam wafted through the small room, billowing around her like a loving caress. “I did not listen to you, leaving you with no other recourse. From now on, I will listen. You have my word.”
Her eyes widened, as round as saucers. “I…thank you.” She wet her lips with her tongue and just as before, his breath caught. How tempting it was to push her against the wall, where he would fill her with his length. Her screams of pleasure would drown the silence. And she would scream. He would make sure of it.
Tristan almost palmed the length in question. Almost. He would not lose control of his actions with a mistress, no matter how wonderful she was. He wouldn’t.
“After you bathe,” he said, “let’s talk about when we will visit this mall of yours.” He missed the excitement and revelry only a market could provide, even though he knew visiting such a place would only dredge up memories of his friends, memories that would make him long for impossible things. But more than the excitement and revelry, he desired time with Julia and hoped to make her smile again. He frothed at the mouth with eagerness to see her in whatever garments he chose for her.
Her grin slipped a little. “I’ve been thinking about that. I’d like to close the store tomorrow. I haven’t had a day off in forever. We can shop then.”
Satisfied with that, he nodded.
* * *
WHEN THE DOOR CLOSED behind Tristan, Julia sank to the edge of the tub. She never, never closed her shop. Not for sickness. Or weather. Or a broken limb. That she even suggested such a thing was shocking. But what else could she do? He’d admitted he was wrong. He’d promised to do better. He’d forgiven her! They both deserved a reward. And yet…
Tristan had no idea of the magnitude of what she’d just done.
Did she?
CHAPTER TWELVE
All Of Your Choices Must Be Based Upon
Whether Or Not They Please Your Mistress
WHEN THE MALL opened the next morning, Julia and Tristan were there, waiting at the doors. She tried not to picture the Closed sign on her shop’s front window or the customers who would knock on the glass, confused and angry, and tried to live in the moment. Because…she’d decided something else last night in the bathroom. She would find a way to break Tristan’s curse and set him free. So, she didn’t know how many moments they had left. Why not enjoy the ones they had, while they had them?
With a sigh, she strolled beside Tristan, who led her toward a chic boutique that carried only the hottest fashions. Even in jeans and a T-shirt—and hopefully briefs—he generated quite a bit of appreciation. Not that she cared. He could entice everyone he wanted with his dangerous swagger and otherworldly eyes.
Julia dug her nails into her palms as she recognized her thoughts for the lie they were. The jerk had better not be doing any enticing, not after he’d agreed to the first parameter and chased Peter away. The death glare she leveled at him contained enough heat to incinerate a small town. Surprisingly he never once stared at another woman.
By small degrees, the muscles in Julia’s body relaxed. She wasn’t jealous or anything like that; she was simply guarding her investment. Her tutor. If someone lured him away, who would give her dating etiquette lessons? No one, that’s who.
I’m pathetic.
Meanwhile, Tristan dove into their adventure with the eagerness of a teenage boy locked inside a room filled with naked, horny women. Once they reached Coco’s, he hopped from one rack to the other, tossing garments her way.
“You will try this one. And this one. And this one.” He held up a short red Band-Aid—such sheer, barely there material couldn’t be called a dress—wicked intention gleaming in his eyes. “This one will be fun to remove.”
“I’m not wearing that,” she told him with a shake of her head.
“Aye, you will. I’m in charge of your clothing, remember?”
“That’s just so…sexy. Way too sexy for someone like me.”
“Julia, Julia, Julia. There is no such thing as too sexy for you.”
A pretty but meaningless compliment, nothing more. “I need conservative clothing. I wouldn’t feel comfortable with three-fourths of my skin showing.”
He arched a brow. “Who is the expert here?”
“You are,” she grudgingly admitted. “But you’re just being nice—”
“I am never just nice.” He grabbed another slinky dress, this one a flowing, gauzy white.
Maybe he did find her attractive. She gulped, her palms beginning to sweat.
On and on he tossed clothes at her until she stumbled under the weight of it all. “I need to work out,” she muttered. “My arms are shaking from exertion.”
“This? This is nothing. I once served a woman who insisted she have
