Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
TRISTAN
From the moment the champagne pops and we place our dinner order, with Ali still refusing to be caught dead with me at the reunion, I think we’ve turned a corner.
It’s then I slide the envelope in her direction with a little push of my hand, holding up my glass of champagne in the other. “Let’s celebrate.”
Slightly bewildered by the gesture, she takes it from me and I twitch a smile as I watch her hold onto it with a firm grip, like I’m going to wrench it from her grasp any moment.
Does she really think I’d do that?
“I need to make sure,” she says, tugging at the envelope opening.
I would expect no less from this fiery redhead, and I amusedly watch her reach for her purse, and fuck me if she doesn’t pull out a pair of reading glasses. They’re large gunmetal frames which reflect perfectly off her emerald irises.
I watch as she scans through the documents, her pert lips pressing together as she turns the page. Her face is a full mask of concentration. A few moments later, she flicks her gaze to me like she’s expecting a punchline, but realistically we both know there isn’t one. It’s done. Well played, Ali.
I’m still holding my glass out in anticipation.
“What do you say?” I need to take a long draw of the liquid to settle myself, so I hope she reciprocates my gesture of cheers.
Alison Archer in those specs is doing things to me that they shouldn’t be.
I shift a little in my seat, glad for the tablecloth covering my lap so she can’t see my growing erection.
The last thing she needs to be aware of is something stirring in my pants.
She blinks a couple of times, seemingly satisfied, and puts the papers securely away, tucking them into the top of her oversized purse. “Well,” she says with a nod, clearly pleased but trying her best not to show it. “Was that so hard, Lucas?”
I don’t think she’d appreciate it if I elaborate on what’s hard right now, so I raise a suggestive eyebrow instead.
Her next move surprises me as she lifts her glass, and instead of throwing the contents all over me — which I probably deserve more than her company right now — she clinks it to mine in the center of the table.
For a second, it’s almost like we’re old friends, celebrating a win.
But then I remember what we really are: rivals in a tough market.
Admittedly, my sellers have driven my ass nonstop to get to this point.
I’m sure Alison’s buyers have been pressuring her too, since their best and final offer was presented last week.
I wasn’t trying to be a complete asshole, but I know as well as she does that this kind of Hollywood Hills property is as rare as hen’s teeth, so it was always going to be a push to the finish line to get my clients the best price. It’s the game.
We simultaneously raise our glasses to our lips and take a sip; granted, mine is more a guzzle to her dainty mouthful. She leaves behind a tiny drop of the expensive French champagne on her lower lip, and I can't help but wonder how it tastes off her skin.
I should thank Gina, our server, later, and not because she did wonders in picking the most expensive bottle. Right now, I don’t care.
“I need to call my clients,” she says, putting her glass down on the table. “If you don’t mind?”
“Not at all. Why don’t we order first, assuming you’ll share a meal with me for old times’ sake?” Surely she will. I mean, I hope so. She definitely looks more agreeable now… and she still has those fucking glasses on.
“I suppose.” She picks the menu back up. “I did dress up and all.”
I smirk. “That you did. And can I just say, it’s been a pleasure working under you on this deal.” Fuck me, do I have no filter? Is this what my sons were referring to about me having fun?
She narrows her eyes at me, but I notice the flush to her cheeks. “Under you?”
“You know what I mean.”
“You forgot up, down and everywhere in between.”
I try not to show my surprise at that little tweet from her lips, but I have to wonder.
Is there a little fun-loving to be had somewhere deep in the depths of that cold heart belonging to my rival?
“That too.” I reach for another sip, glad she’s getting in on the act and loosening up a little. I definitely don’t joke around like this with any of my other colleagues, but Alison always lets me play an innings, you gotta admire that.
We stare at each other for a moment, then her eyes flick back to the menu. “If you don’t mind ordering, I’ll take the shrimp as my appetizer and the pasta bake for the main course, with a green side salad please,” she says and I’m certain she’s trying to change the subject.
“Coming right up.” I promptly close my menu as she pushes back her seat. I half stand as she grabs her purse, giving me a quick nod and walks across the restaurant.
I watch her gorgeous svelte legs and her perfect ass as she retreats in that fucking slip of a red dress and high heels. I sit back down just as Gina arrives over at the table to check if we’re ready to order.
I grin. If only I could convince Ali to come to Palm Springs and let her hair down.
Dinner goes by in a bit of a blur, but the conversation is light and Ali seems way more relaxed than I’ve seen her in months. I know how it feels to finally put a huge deal like the one we’ve just negotiated to bed.
Now all I can think about is putting her to bed.
She’s a beautiful woman and her sitting across from me tonight only confirms what I already know.
Dinner goes without a hitch when she returns from her phone call.
The meal was as amazing as it always is, the service impeccable, and the company surprisingly easy.
A three-hundred-dollar bottle of bubbles with coffee and liqueur to finish topped things off nicely.
They even threw in some of Ruby’s famous after dinner chocolate mints, which went down a treat.
“Tonight was great,” I say when I walk Ali to her car.
It’s not even the champagne that’s causing me to speak my truth; I just figure, what the hell.
“Thank you for your company.” We stroll, I have my hands in my pockets like I can afford to be so casual.
For all I know, she’s plotting her revenge against me as we speak.
I wouldn’t exactly blame her. But that alone makes me hard because I’ve been like a dog with a bone all evening, and I know I need to get a grip. “I’m glad the deal came together.”
“I’m glad you pulled the stick out of your ass to make it happen,” she quips. “After making me wait so long.”
“Oh, you love it really,” I chuckle. “It’s all part of the game, isn’t it, Ali?” I still refuse to call her Alison, even though I haven’t been invited to do so.
I haven’t even brought up the fact she calls me by my surname most of the time. I guess I figure since I’ve known her since high school, that’s long enough to be given the go ahead to call her by her shortened name. “And can I just say, you look beautiful tonight. The stars are jealous of you.”
She turns her head slightly and I see her lips part in the moonlight. “My God, was that a compliment?”
I run a hand over my face. “You know, some women consider me quite the catch.”
“Clearly they don’t have to work with you,” she sighs.
“Hey, you don’t get anywhere in this business if you don’t play hardball. You of all people know that.”
“Fine. I’ll take the compliment. You know, you’re not so shabby yourself when you try.”
A light chuckle escapes me. “Well, thank you.” We reach her Mercedes GLS SUV in no time. The traffic flow is steady, and the twinkling of streetlights down the main street light up the strip of restaurants, wine bars and cafes.
She pauses a beat to unlock her car. “Your company is surprisingly good when you’re not being a jackass,” she says like it’s the nicest thing she can think after her previous compliment.
The corner of my mouth lifts. “Gee, thanks.” I lean on the edge of her car, not sure I even want her to leave straight away, and that’s odd in itself. I stick out my hand for good measure. “Can we shake on it at least?”
“Shake on what?” Her face is a picture of half-amusement, half-quizzing me for my ulterior motive. I’m not sure she’d believe I don’t have one. “To a successful working relationship. You drive a hard bargain, Ms. Archer.”
“As do you, Mr. Lucas.” Again, she surprises me by slipping her tiny hand into mine. Her nails are manicured to perfection, not long claws like so many women have these days. And we shake, just like that. Like we are comrades, at least for tonight.
“Think about the reunion,” I say contemplatively. “I still think we could have some fun with some of those assholes we were stuck with in high school for all those years.”
She laughs lightly, the sound a gentle melody on the soft fall breeze.
It wafts her scent, too; buttery, rich and deep.
A little bit exotic, maybe sandalwood, vanilla and spice.
Whatever the fragrance is, it suits her.
As does the red dress that clings to her curves and those motherfucking long legs.
I stifle a groan. I can only imagine what’s under her clothes because I know I’m never going to get a look in.
“I don’t think so.” She shakes her head as she opens the driver's door and slides her purse across onto the passenger seat. “My ex-husband will be there, and I don’t want to be around him.”
“Understandable.” I remember the idiot from high school all too well, but I don’t press it.
I’m sure she doesn’t need reminding, especially as she clearly wants as little to do with him as possible.
It must be hard when they have a daughter together.
“You know, I always took you for a sports car kinda gal.” Okay, I’m trying to change the subject as I hold the driver door back for her to climb in.
How she does it in those heels is beyond me. I guess it’s years of practice.
She laughs now, and her face softens ever so slightly.
She clearly isn’t letting her guard down around me very easily, but that’s understandable.
We’ve been back and forth on many deals over the years.
It’s a love/hate thing at its finest. But I think I’ve hopefully redeemed myself from my earlier misgivings, holding off on giving her the papers and all of that to and fro-ing. “Not with a fifteen-year-old.”
“Touche.” I remember all too well when my boys were young and I had a very similar set up. Luckily, I still have a good working relationship with my ex-wife, and I know I’m lucky because it’s so rare these days. “It all goes by in a blur, trust me.”
“Yes, I forget, your boys are all grown up now.”
“I started young,” I reply with a wink. I was twenty years old when Ella fell pregnant with Joshua.
I see the hint of a smile on her lips as she starts up the car, and I push her door closed. She winds down the window half way and rests with her elbow on the edge. “Thanks for dinner,” she says. “Have fun at the reunion.”
“I’ll try.” Keeping the disappointment out of my tone is a challenge, but if my ex was a nightmare and I still had to co-parent, then I’d probably be steering clear as well.
I tap the roof as she puts the car into reverse and slowly edges out of the parking bay.
I can’t take my eyes off her. “Goodnight, Ali.”
There’s that ghost of a smile again as she pauses. There’s no way I’m going to stop calling her that, friend or no friend. It is her name, after all. I guess I kinda dig the way she told me off about it. “Good night, Lucas.”
I grin, knowing she’s probably not going to stop calling me by my surname either.