Crash Into Me (Heart of Stone Book 1) by K.M. Scott

Author:K.M. Scott [Scott, K.M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Coming of Age / Contemporary Romance / Romance Suspense
Publisher: Copper Key Media, LLC
Published: 2013-08-25T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

"So what do you think?" I asked nervously as Tristan stood next to me, his arms folded.

His face was expressionless, something I suspected was intentional, even though the twinkle in his eye made me believe he liked my choices for the Presidential Suite. The series of prints showing hand painted blue and white vases was simple, but just the thumbnails on my laptop screen gave the overly golden room an entirely different and more pleasant feeling.

I knew I was feeling pleased with my choices. Now it was just up to Tristan to give them his seal of approval.

His silence was unnerving, though. While I didn't mind standing there staring at him, I could think of better things to do that involved the two of us together.

"Well?" I asked again, hoping to egg him on.

Tristan turned toward me and smiled. "I don't think so. I'm not in favor of these."

Everything in my body sagged for a moment before my brain clicked into defensive mode. What did he mean he wasn't in favor of them? "What's wrong with them?"

He tilted his head as he looked at the pictures again. "They don't work for the feeling of the place."

"You mean the gold feeling?" I asked sarcastically.

A slow smile spread on his lips as he straightened his head and looked over at me. "I like the colors, but the images aren't right. You'll have to try again."

"Hmmmph."

"What was that you said?" he asked, obviously teasing me.

I stuck my tongue out and pouted. "Nothing. I have work to do. Art doesn't just happen you know, Mr. Stone. When I'm ready, I'll request your approval again."

He flashed me that warm and sexy smile that made me think about him on top of me in bed. "Thank you, Ms. Edwards. When you need me, I'll be in the other room. Dinner is at five."

Grabbing my laptop off the desk, I turned and walked toward the end of the suite as I yelled back, "I'll be hungry by then, so I can see me showing up, Mr. Stone."

I didn't look back to see his expression at my comment because it was too hard to keep my hands off him when he looked so good. How anyone could make a pair of black pants, brown dress shirt and a tie look so incredible was beyond me. Suddenly, an idea jumped into my mind. Who picked them out?

My curiosity quickly took up every inch of my mind, and I returned to the outer room to find him standing and reading the newspaper. "Tristan, do you buy your own clothes?"

He looked up from the Wall Street Journal and raised his eyebrows. "No."

"Oh." That wasn't the answer I wanted to hear. Now I had a vision of one of his actresses trolling upscale men's stores picking out his wardrobe with loving care. Or worse, one of them picking out his clothes and then calling him like Tristan had called me in the dressing room. I was nothing if not ordinary when it came to the green-eyed monster.

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