Chapter 6
Chapter Six
ALISON
Blue eyes, with a depth that would rival the entire Pacific Ocean, stare up at me.
I’m fairly certain he just gave me a once over, too.
In fact, I know he did. His lips quirk a smile as he stands, quickly pulling the chair out for me gallantly.
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. He’s no gentleman, but I sit anyway, refusing to thank him because he’s a rude prick.
“Tristan.” I nod when we’re both seated.
“Alison. My, my, aren’t you a vision?”
“What’s wrong? Not used to seeing me out of my business suit?”
His tongue traces his bottom lip swiftly, so quick I may have missed it if I wasn’t a little caught off guard by his face. It’s always been his money maker, and we both know it.
I’ve never denied Tristan Lucas isn’t as sexy and distinguished as they come with his designer silver fox vibes, five-hundred-dollar haircut and five o’clock shadow, tamed within an inch of its life.
His chin is strong and square, high cheekbones accentuate his tanned face and those ocean-blues dance mischievously. “Clearly not as much as I’d like to.”
I shuffle my seat closer to the table, fluffing around for a moment to distract myself from his unwavering stare, while also trying to forget his last comment.
His cologne shouldn’t be legal, it’s a heady mixture of citrus and spice with a definitive musk undertone.
But I’m no pushover for a pretty face and designer aftershave.
We both know Tristan has little to no substance.
“Why did you invite me to dinner?” I start, figuring we may as well get it out in the open right off the bat.
He tilts his head, not taking his eyes off me. “Excuse me?”
“Stop playing games with me, Lucas. I’ve had enough damage control to deal with for one day.”
“ You invited me to dinner,” he states like I’ve clearly lost the plot, picking up his glass of water. I watch the bob of his annoyingly succulent throat as he takes a large sip. And for once, it doesn’t appear like he’s joking. There’s no smile, no smirk, and definitely no witty comeback.
I let out a breath. “I see you haven’t gotten any less annoying as the hours have passed.”
“Your assistant contacted my assist…” He trails off and presses his lips together in a hard line.
“But Lexi said—” I pause mid-sentence. As we exchange a glance, it doesn’t take long for us to put two and two together.
That conniving little minx, also known as my assistant, has been conspiring with Tristan’s assistant, Mason. “They set us up?”
“Fucking Mason.” He shakes his head, letting out a breath.
I fold my arms across my chest and sit back, not even bothering with the menu as I doubt it’s even going to get that far. Shame, the shrimp appetizer sounded nice. “Would you really believe that I would invite you to dinner after the shit you pulled today?”
That annoying smirk permeates his face again, and I swear to God if we weren’t sitting here in a public place, I’d knock it clean off his shoulders. I’m not even a violent person, but maybe he brings it out in me.
“I needed to talk to my clients.” His stupid voice may be as smooth as honey, but it’s not going to sway with me. “You know how it works, Ali.”
He’s so annoying! I also never gave him permission to shorten my name, but like everything else, he just does what he wants.
“Was that before or after the spray tan?” I glance down to the exposed area of skin just below his throat, and then to his arms, since his shirt sleeves are half rolled up his muscular forearms. There’s no evidence of any kind of spray tan, probably because he always looks tanned and gorgeous and doesn’t need one.
He tilts his head again. “You’re way too serious, Ali Archer . Has anyone ever told you that? Do you ever let your hair down and have any fun?”
“When it comes to work, there is no fun to be had. Shit like that can bring the industry down as well as tarnish your reputation,” I inform him. “Making life difficult for clients isn’t exactly a smart move, Lucas , even for you.”
“We need a drink.” The cocky grin returns and he beckons the server over with the flick of his hand.
“Wait! I’m not staying,” I protest.
“Oh, I think you’re going to want to hear this, Ali.”
“If it means putting up with one more smart ass—” I watch as he pulls an envelope out from under the fan shaped napkin in front of him and waves it in front of me. “And stop calling me Ali!”
His eyes crinkle the slightest smile and that right there tells me he’s enjoying this. “Why? It’s your name, isn’t it?”
“Alison,” I reiterate. “My friends get to call me Ali, and you’re not one of them.”
“Say you’ll stay?” His total disregard for anything I’m saying is just typical Tristan Lucas behavior. I know he’s as smooth as velvet with his clients and can’t put a foot wrong. It’s the charming Lucas way.
The server approaches just as I’m about to protest. This is one of the biggest deals I’ve ever been able to pull off, and I’m annoyed that I’m so desperate and needy to have it back in my hands.
I try to not show any of this of course.
My mask is firmly in place in front of the world’s biggest asshat.
“I’m trying to think if you’ve always been this much of a pain in the ass,” I mutter.
“Champagne?” Tristan continues to ignore my jibes, tipping his head suggestively.
I really hope I don’t sound needy when I ask, “Do we have something to celebrate?”
“Maybe.” And that one single word comes out so dark, husky… and sexy.
I want to facepalm myself at my own disregard for his behavior, and my body’s reaction to him. A flicker is stirring low in my belly, threatening to spill further to my lady bits. There’s clearly something wrong with me.
I glance up at the server who’s looking from Tristan to me, then back to Tristan again for an answer on the champagne.
“Oh, there’s going to be fireworks, Ali Archer . I hope you’re ready to wear your victory march.”
I give him a withering look. “Fine. I’ll play your stupid game, Lucas, but I won’t forget this.”
“I would be disappointed if you did.” He nods to the patient server. “A bottle of your finest.”
“Certainly, Mr. Lucas.” She takes off again as my eyes drift back to his. He’s looking part contrite and part satisfied with himself.
“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” he says.
I roll my eyes. “You know, I’m sure you never used to be this annoying,” I sigh. “Must be a thing as men get older.”
He raises an eyebrow and chuckles, actually freaking chuckles. “You’re very attractive when you’re mad. And for the record, we’re the same age.”
“Don’t remind me.”
“Speaking of which, are you going to the reunion?”
I’m usually very quick on my feet, but it seems Tristan Lucas and his annoying try-hard charm, fake smile, and constant change of subject are giving me whiplash. “The reunion?”
“Yeah, Palm Springs next weekend. I’m sure you must’ve got an invite?”
“I doubt I’ll be going.” Especially since there’s a good chance my ex-husband will be there flaunting his twenty-something-year-old receptionist for all to see.
“I don’t enjoy those kinds of gatherings.
” I’m still eyeing the envelope, which I know he’s dangling like a carrot in my face.
My clients went all in, I know he wants the deal as much as I do.
“That’s a shame.”
“Are you?” I open the menu, not that I care, but I may as well read the shrimp appetizer again, just to have a distraction while I’m sitting here humoring him.
“My assistant confirmed this afternoon.”
“Oh.” I don’t know why that surprises me, but it does. I didn’t take him for a reunion kind of guy. I have never seen him at any of them in the past.
“Mason thinks it’s good for business, my sons do, too.”
“Of course, I’m sure your mind is always on the job.”
He quirks a smile. “You better believe it. You know, if you played your cards right, we could team up and go together.”
I balk at such an absurd idea. “Why the hell would I want to do that? And why would you?”
“Ah, there’s nothing like stirring up some publicity, even at a high school reunion. Could be fun. My sons keep telling me I need to get out more.”
“I don’t think I need to be seen as the next Ms.-Right-Now on your arm.”
He smirks. “Ooh, burn.”
“Are you admitting you don’t have a date for the reunion?” I watch his face for a reaction, slightly annoyed at myself that I want to know. I mean, he wouldn’t be asking me to go with him if he did, surely.
“Ah, you know me, I don’t date all that often, or that well.” He shrugs ruefully and it’s the first time I’ve probably heard him say something that isn’t smart assed or laced with sarcasm.
“Come on now, Tristan. You have a bevy of women at your disposal over the years. Why not ask one of them?”
He sighs and opens the menu, though clearly doesn’t read it because his eyes are still glued to mine. “Because I’m asking you. You never know, you could have fun.”
There’s that F word again.
I roll my eyes and laugh haughtily. “I think the champagne has gone to your head already, Lucas.”