She left her hair down, and for the first time in forever, she applied enough makeup to make the cosmetic company’s stock soar. With her thin, strappy sandals in place, she breezed into the living room for the final time.
“Do not say a single word about my outfit,” she commanded Tristan, hooking her hair behind her ears.
His shrug didn’t tell her much, but the heated once-over he gave her spoke volumes. He liked the outfit!
So. Why had he complained? Only one answer made sense. Because he didn’t want her dressing up for another man.
Delight chased away her bad mood, confidence budding within her chest.
Faith cast him a glower before turning back to Julia. “You are stunning, Jules. Simply breathtaking. Don’t let the opinion of one demented fool make you think otherwise.”
“I think she is lovely,” Tristan said, defensive, “no matter what she wears.” Grumbling now, he added, “Or doesn’t wear.”
Julia beamed her appreciation.
Faith looked radiant in a sophisticated black pantsuit, her dark hair pulled back in a simple twist, tendrils cascading from the top. Tristan, sexy as always, wore a pair of jeans that kissed his muscular thighs, and a black shirt that fell open around the collar, revealing scrumptious skin that probably tasted as good as it looked. Julia’s mouth watered, and she shivered.
The sound of the doorbell echoed through the house.
“That’s him.” Butterflies flapped their wings inside her stomach. Even her desire for Tristan was overshadowed by her fear.
Calm down. Still shaking, she smoothed her hair in place, drew in a deep breath and slowly glided to the entryway. I can do this. She tugged open the front door. A cold breeze burst past.
“Sorry I’m late,” Peter said. He offered her a shy smile. “I lost track of time.”
She returned his smile with one of her own. “You’re forgiven.”
In his gray slacks and white dress shirt, he appeared sweet and bashfully charming. Yet the sight of him didn’t affect her. I’m an idiot. He’s perfect for me. I will give him a chance. “You look very nice, Peter.”
“As do you. You’re like—” He glanced down at his palm, and Julia thought she heard him mutter, “I am a tiger.” Then he blinked over at her and said, “You’re like the rarest of cacti that bloom a flush pink only once a year.”
“I—thank you?” Was being compared to a cacti a good thing?
“Are you ready?” he asked, his eyes gleaming with pride, as if he’d just climbed a mountain without a harness and survived. He leaned into her, the strong scent of his cologne wafting to her nostrils.
Tristan chose that moment to step up behind her. “We are ready,” he growled.
Almost absently, she leaned back into him.
Color instantly drained from Peter’s face, leaving him pallid and waxen. His limbs shook. “Uh…hello,” he squeaked.
“Peter,” Julia said, hoping to soothe him, “Tristan has promised not to bite you.”
Inch by inch, Peter crept backward. Julia reached out, took his hand, and tugged him into the foyer. Tristan’s growls intensified.
“I’d like you to meet my sister, Faith,” Julia said, motioning her over.
“Nice to meet you, Peter.” Faith moved forward and smiled a sexy, fall-at-my-feet kind of smile.
Peter’s jaw went slack. He drank in Faith for a long, silent moment, his eyes half-lidded, what she could see of his irises filled with admiration. Then, he must have realized Tristan was Faith’s “brother” as well; he became agitated, pulling at his blue-striped tie.
Gulping, he looked back to Julia. “I don’t understand. We’re going on a double date…with your brother and sister?”
“Oh, Tristan isn’t our blood brother,” Faith said easily enough. Julia had told her all about the sibling thing. “He’s just so close to us he’s like a brother.”
Petered pulled at the tie with more force. “Perhaps we should do this another day. I mean—”
“No!” Julia wasn’t sure she could endure another morning of pre-date jitters. “It has to be today. You’ll have fun.” I hope.
Faith inserted herself between them and batted her eyelashes up at Peter. “Please don’t leave. I’m looking forward to getting to know you better.”
“I’m just not sure this is a good idea,” Peter said with a step backward. “I have an appointment early tomorrow morning, and I need to—”
Tristan cut him off before he could continue. “Enough conversation.” A slight warning glare accompanied his words. “We will leave now. And you will join us.”
A jumble of horror and fear, Peter simply nodded. “Yes, yes. Of course.”
“Peter,” Faith said, breaking the mounting tension. She linked her arm with his. “Allow me to escort you to your car.”
“Excellent idea.” Julia gave the couple a little push toward the door. When they were several steps away, she linked her arm through Tristan’s and followed after them. “Please, please, please be on your best behavior today.”
“I’m always on my best behavior.”
If that was true…Lord help us all.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Never Look Directly At Your Mistress
Without Permission
JULIA STROLLED DOWN a carpeted entryway draped overhead with a large red canopy, and tried not to freak out. I’m on a date.
A date. Her first outside of high school. And she wasn’t attracted to the man. Something she hadn’t admitted to herself until it was too late. Now? She had to deal with Peter without hurting his feelings.
Bright green foliage spilled from stone planters. Cold gusts of wind swirled and beat against the building. The moment she stepped inside the vestibule, warm air enveloped her.
Peter walked at her side, Tristan behind them. Faith led the pack, cutting through the softly lit restaurant. Soft, lyrical music played in the background.
A tuxedo-clad maître d’ appeared, and moments later they were ushered to a table for four in a secluded corner. High, narrow windows overlooked an immaculate blooming garden with twinkling white lights strung across the greenery.
Peter sat. Tristan held out a velvet-covered seat for Julia—across from Peter, nowhere near touching distance—then directed Faith to sit next to her. That left the chair on Julia’s left.
