Oddly, though, it wasn’t his striking body that had won her over. Not that she hadn’t noticed. But she was drawn to the way he cared about his brother and his uncle and now Tabby. Tristan Hamilton had a big heart and a generous nature.
Soon, Tristan’s techie, modern kitchen was filled with the mouthwatering aroma of bacon. When there were a dozen crispy strips draining on a paper towel, Tristan whisked eggs in a bowl and added his own special touches. He dumped the lot into the same iron skillet and tended the mixture.
“You want coffee?” he asked.
“Not at this hour.” It was after one o’clock. “I’ll take juice or milk or both if you have them.”
He nodded. “If you want to get butter and jelly out of the fridge, I’ll slice some bread for toast. This is almost ready.”
When they sat down together at the cozy table in his kitchen nook, Daley’s stomach growled. She had been too nervous at dinner to eat everything. Then, with the dancing and the drama and, later, great sex, she was ravenous.
Tristan didn’t tease her when she cleared her plate and reached for seconds.
They ate in companionable silence. She watched his hands. Long fingers lifting a knife. Buttering toast. Holding a glass.
She was in way over her head already, but she couldn’t regret it. Being with Tristan made her happy. For the last few years, she’d poured her energy into her work.
Now, she wanted to concentrate on her personal life. Tabby’s radiant joy was hard to miss. Daley wanted that same certainty, that same bliss.
A huge yawn caught up to her.
Tristan smiled. “We’d better get some sleep.”
“Okay.”
They stood and cleared the table together. Tristan wiped out the iron skillet with paper towels. “The rest of this can wait till the morning,” he said.
He held her hand as they walked down the hall. When they were huddled together under the covers, he pulled her close. “So how do we go forward, Daley? I want to do what makes you happy.”
She tried to clear the lump in her throat. “Maybe we should start small. I’ll leave a few things here, and you feel free to do the same at my place. We can be together more, but not in each other’s way.”
He turned on his side and smoothed the hair from her cheek. “You don’t think this is going to work, do you? Not in the long haul?”
Now, her throat was tight. “I want it to,” she said honestly. “But I don’t know. I think it’s best if we take things slowly. Maybe a week at a time. If either of us changes our mind, we can go back to where we started.”
“Sex with nothing else?”
“Um, no. I meant nothing at all.”
“So you’re saying we have great sex now, but if we suck at the relationship stuff, we lose the sex all together.”
“Something like that.”
“Whew. You’re tough.”
“Don’t tease me. I’m trying to be sensible.”
“And what about the public part of us as a couple?”
“Maybe we keep that on the down-low. You know. Because of work.”
“If that’s what you want.”
He sounded resigned or grim or something. They had turned out the lights, so she couldn’t be sure.
“I want to be with you,” she said, rubbing her hand along his bare flank. Despite the hour, she felt a buzz of excitement. “In every way.”
“Does that mean now?” he asked, the words husky with a volatile mix of fatigue and arousal.