“If Tristan gives me any crap, I’ll squash him like a bug.” He flexed again. “I am a man,” he repeated. “A tiger. No woman can resist me.”
Wait. Peter paused. That wasn’t right. Frowning, he strode to his nightstand and lifted his copy of Unleashing the Tiger Within. He flipped through the well-worn pages, found chapter four, and read, “Let your mantra be, ‘I am a man. A tiger. An irresistible force of nature no woman can resist.’”
With a nod, he tossed the book atop his black silk sheets. “I am an irresistible force of nature no woman can resist.” He’d already spritzed himself with pheromone cologne. He’d made cue cards with sonnets, compliments and topics to keep conversation going.
How could Julia not like him?
He gave his reflection one more glance, then growled low in his throat. “I am a man. A tiger.”
* * *
JULIA STOOD IN her bedroom, sipping her glass of wine. Unfortunately, the alcohol did nothing to diminish her fear of the upcoming date.
“Try the mint-green slip dress,” Faith said.
Her brows winged upward. “Do you think it’s sexy enough?”
“Oh, yeah.” Faith nodded, an assured grin lifting the corners of her lips. “He’ll be mopping up drool.”
Smiling for the first time that day, Julia tugged the dress over her head and smoothed it down over her bra and panties.
“A perfect fit.” Faith nodded her approval. She swept a lock of hair over her shoulder. “Now go show Tristan. He’ll love it.”
He would, wouldn’t he? Eager, Julia padded to the living room. No doubt he’d beam and say she looked beautiful, since he’d wanted to see her in a dress since their first night together. In fact, she could already picture the glint of appreciation in his eyes.
As for Peter, Julia would just have to tell him they were better off as friends.
Tristan was sprawled on the emerald-and-ruby couch cushions, eating frozen grapes. He looked like the Greek war god, Ares, before a battle, ready to strike down those who defied him, yet ever patient to wait until the perfect moment to act. All the scene lacked was a scantily clad girl wielding a fan.
She shivered and barely stopped herself from screaming, I’ll take the job.
“What do you think of this?” she asked.
At the sound of Julia’s voice, Tristan lifted his head and perused her from top to bottom. There was a slight tightening of his features, but nothing else. No other reaction.
With one finger, he made a circular motion for her to spin. More nervous by the second, she did as instructed.
* * *
“AGAIN,” TRISTAN said, wanting another view of Julia’s backside. His groin tightened with need. By Elliea, she was beautiful beyond compare. But the thought of her wearing such a comely gown for another man—a gown he had chosen, no less—sent a talon-sharp pang of possessiveness through him. She would not wear such a gown for Puny Peter.
“Sooo. What do you think?” A little more hesitant this time, she twirled for the third time.
“It is too long,” he said with a deceptively lazy undertone.
Confusion seeped into her expression, and she examined the length of her dress. She paused. “Too long?”
“Aye.”
“Maybe you didn’t notice the fact that I’m wearing a dress.”
“I noticed.” I noticed hard.
“That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”
“You should change.” Then, with a lazy motion at odds with the dangerous fire in his veins, he sucked a grape into his mouth.
* * *
JULIA IGNORED the twinge of desire as a drop of juice ran down his chin and marched back into her bedroom to announce, “He hates it! It’s too long.”
“Hmm.” A frown shaped Faith’s mouth. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“Well, all right, then. We’ll try something shorter. Like…this one!”
She eyed the knee-length red halter dress her sister held up. Perfect. Tristan had seemed particularly fascinated with it at the boutique. She shimmied into the clingy fabric, and it hugged her every curve like a second skin.
“This is the one. I feel it.” Certain she would receive a compliment, she strode back into the living room. “How much do you love this one?”
Once again he looked her up and down. A muscle ticked in his jaw, and it was becoming more noticeable by the second. “Too red.”
Wait. Surely she’d misheard. “Did you say it’s too red?”
“Your hearing is excellent,” he replied, his tone snippy.
“I can’t believe this.” She threw her hands in the air. “You think my dress is too red? That’s the only thing wrong with it?”
“What I think of that gown cannot be put into mere words.”
Scowling now, she flounced back to her bedroom.
“What’s wrong with that one?” Faith demanded.
“It’s too red,” Julia replied, mimicking Tristan’s I-am-master-of-the-universe tone.
The next time she entered the living room, she wore a black dress suit, complete with a neck sash. It wasn’t red, and it wasn’t long. It was the epitome of class.
Just before she could ask his opinion, he raised an eyebrow and said, “Too confining.”
Forty-five minutes later, Julia wanted to smother Tristan in the sea of clothing he’d rejected. No matter what she modeled, she heard a variety of refusals. “Too green.” “Too open.” “Too loose.” Until finally she heard, “Too… You will not wear that, Julia. I forbid it.”
Sorely vexed by now, she stomped her feet on the way back to her sister. She jerked on a midthigh-length skirt and stormed back to the living room. “And this one?”
“Too short. May I suggest you make a better selection next time?”
“You picked out everything I’ve shown you. Remember our little jaunt to the mall?”
“Aye, but you never showed them to me on.”
True. At a loss, she ransacked the contents of her entire closet, grumbling about the pestilence known as “man.” Julia briefly flirted with the notion of wearing the green-and-orange baby doll dress Tristan had found the first night he appeared, but she didn’t want to frighten small children.
In the end, she re-donned the mint-green slip dress, a perfect match for her eyes. Plus, it looked good
