Page 69 of One Wild Wedding Weekend

Eventually, his gaze cleared. “Good morning,” he said.

She shook her head, bemused at his aura of debauchery and sexual satiation. “Good morning to you, too. You didn’t have to get up.”

“I didn’t want to waste a minute of our day.”

“Our day?” She frowned, confused. “I thought you were taking me home. I have lunch with my friends at noon.”

“Cancel,” he said, cajoling her. “Please.”

She was very tempted. But something told her she needed to preserve her independence or risk being swallowed up by his forceful personality. “I’d love to stay all day,” she said quietly, holding her cup to her lips and inhaling the aroma of expensive coffee. “But these are old friends, and we haven’t been able to get together for a long time. I don’t want to blow them off. Especially on such short notice.”

“Fine,” he grumbled. “But you’ll come back later, right?”

“You and John are playing in a golf tournament at four.”

She saw the moment it registered. He muttered a not-so-polite word and poured more coffee, gulping it down. “I can get out of it.”

“It’s for charity,” she said. “The children’s hospital. Remember? Plus, it’s going to be great weather to be outside.”

“Screw that,” he said, looking grumpy and disgusted and way too frustrated considering how many times they had made love.

Deeming that he had consumed enough coffee to be reasonable, she crossed the kitchen and wrapped her arms around his waist. When she pressed her cheek to the spot just over his heart, his T-shirt smelled like laundry detergent.

“We have all the time in the world, Tristan. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Except home to your apartment,” he said, looking fierce. “How about tonight and tomorrow?”

“I’ll make a deal with you. Let me contemplate your surprising offer. Assuming you were serious.”

“I’m serious,” he said.

“If we’re going to cohabitate for any length of time, I want to think about stuff I’ll need over here. And whether I should bounce back and forth. What schedule might work. Those kinds of things.”

“Do you ever throw caution to the wind?”

“Not often,” she said, shrugging with the admission. Tabby’s wedding had been a particularly memorable exception.

He kissed the top of her head and then palmed her breast. “Monday night, Daley. What do you think?”

“I thought you were giving me time to think about it.”

“Forty-eight hours seems fair. Tell me that works for you.”

“Maybe. Probably. I suppose I could have a couple of boxes ready.”

He cupped her ass and dragged her closer still, letting her feel his arousal. “We’ll make it work. This arrangement will give us more time together.”

“I can’t argue with that.”

“Good,” he said. “Then it’s settled.”

Tristan was worthless for the rest of the weekend. He played golf with John. Had dinner with buddies afterward. Spent much of the day Sunday emptying drawers and freeing up closet space.

Once he had left college and the collection of roommates he’d shared rooms with over four years, he had never again lived with another adult. Male or female.

He had always enjoyed his privacy.

If he chose to watch four straight hours of baseball or blast music from his expensive speakers, there had been no one to protest. Carryout was acceptable. Every night if he wanted. His once-a-month-housekeeper wasn’t intrusive. In between times, he wasn’t a slob. His domain had for years been comfortable, solitary and perfect.

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