Healing Kiss, page 22
She shook her head. “No, um…I’m waiting for my sister. She’s still on the tour.”
“You’re not interested in finishing?”
“Oh, no, that’s not it. I felt a little queasy upstairs, and I…I’ve seen a lot of the house before.”
“Have you been here another time, then?”
“Yes, I…I know the homeowner.”
“I see.” The man’s suspicious expression cleared, and he finally cracked a smile, which took the edge off his gruff exterior. “You’re in luck. I believe he’s in the solarium. Why don’t you go on in and say hello? I suspect he’ll be delighted to see you. Right this way.”
The man moved forward but stopped when he realized Lillian wasn’t following behind. “Aren’t you coming?”
“He’s…he’s here…the homeowner? Right in the next room?”
“Yes, of course. There’s an afterparty in progress for those who purchased the option. Do you have a ticket to the party?”
Lillian nodded, digging in her purse for her cell phone. “The garden party…that’s right.” Why was it so hard to formulate a coherent thought? All the other guests were probably in the solarium, as the man called it. That explained why this part of the house was empty.
She flicked through her texts and located the invitation she’d received, showing it to the guide, who nodded.
“Follow me, then, and I’ll take you there.” The man was much taller than she’d realized at first, towering over her. He turned and moved forward again, and Lillian found herself moving after him slowly as if in a dream.
She cleared her throat and tried to communicate her unease. “I’m not so sure the homeowner will want to see me.”
Her guide glanced back at her and grinned. “A pretty girl like you? I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to learn you went on the tour tonight. Have you seen the solarium during your other visits?”
“Not really. Not up close.” Lillian put one foot in front of the other. This was her chance to see Tristan one last time—she shouldn’t blow it. She could at least thank him for saving her life and congratulate him on his engagement. Although if her dad had somehow got things wrong…but no, she couldn’t contemplate the possibility, couldn’t let herself dream things were different. She only wanted to apologize for the lies she had told.
“Prepare yourself, then, because it’s something to see,” the man said.
“To see? Oh, yeah, the solarium.” She nodded and attempted a smile, but it came out two parts adrenaline, one part anxiety.
The man didn’t seem to notice, his gritty voice remaining even and calm. He seemed to be enjoying himself, rattling on like they were old friends. “I personally think it’s the coolest part of the estate—kind of reminds me of one of those fairy gardens.”
She nodded, half-listening, but refrained from responding, which didn’t stop him from continuing his one-sided conversation.
“Right here’s the living area. Pretty fancy, eh?”
They passed through a large room and entered another giant, open area with brick floors and skylights.
“Here we are. What do you think?”
Lillian paused at the entrance, taking in the numerous lanterns and twinkling lights scattered around the space. Waiters dressed in black and white outfits served sparkling glasses of champagne and an assortment of elegant hors d’oeuvres.
Her partner nabbed a glass of bubbly from a passing waiter and handed it to her. “Drink up. No doldrums here. This is a party, remember?”
She dutifully took the glass and had a sip, peering over the rim at groups of people gathered around the swimming pool and walking in the backyard beyond, where more lights twinkled.
Realization dawned, and she gasped. The backyard was the garden Tristan had promised to show her one day. Now she’d see it for herself. She swallowed hard and scanned the crowd for Tristan, first left, then right—he wasn’t there. She let out the air she realized she was holding.
“Over here.” Her tour guide motioned behind her.
She looked where he was pointing, and her heart stopped beating for an instant. Tristan stood in the center of a small crowd, looking cool and confident and oh, so handsome. In a single glance, she took in the pair of white slacks and the charcoal-gray shirt he wore and the look on his face, which was animated as if he told a joke. As she watched, his gaze slid past his companions and met Lillian’s, and her heart beat once again, although much faster.
Something tightened in Tristan’s expression, or dimmed, she wasn’t sure. He didn’t speak or otherwise gesture, nothing to give a clue to his emotions or if he wanted to talk to her. Lillian’s gaze naturally flicked to his partner, and her heart nosedived into her shoes.
As she had feared whenever she imagined seeing Tristan again, he wasn’t alone. Angelina stood next to him, dazzling in a white shimmering dress with a slit up one side and cute, strappy sandals. Unlike Tristan’s unreadable expression, the glare Angelina directed Lillian’s way was enough to knock her to the ground. Angelina stiffened her shoulders and drew herself up like an outraged peacock, tucking her arm in Tristan’s to send a not-so-subtle territorial message.
Keep away. He’s mine.
Although Lillian only stared at the couple for a few seconds, it felt like an eternity. Her gaze took in the scene with devastating clarity. Tristan and Angelina were together, and Lillian was a third wheel—she shouldn’t be here. What had she been thinking? She should have never let Hannah talk her into this madness.
She might have turned and fled the party, but she couldn’t escape her tour guide’s clutches. He had latched on to her forearm and pulled her toward Tristan, grinning at him like they were old friends.
“Wait…” she said, but it was too late, she was already within a foot of the couple.
“I brought you a present,” the man said to Tristan.
She dug her sandals into the ground to stop the forward momentum, but all she managed was to lose her footing and stumble. The drink she held went flying in the air with perfect comedic timing. Her horrified gaze watched the action like some sort of silent Charlie Chaplin film.
Tristan sprang into action, dragging Angelina with him, and deftly caught the glass before it hit the brick pathway. It would have been a marvelous feat of athleticism if it were not for the glasses’ contents, the majority which flew toward Angelina like a homing pigeon, drenching her in a champagne glow.
“You bitch,” Angelina hissed, her face registering shock and anger.
“I’m sorry,” Lillian said, and she meant it. The heat rushing to her cheeks could have toasted a pile of marshmallows. “It was an accident. I’ll go now.”
“Not so fast,” the man holding her arm grunted, turning to Tristan. “This is the woman who caused all the ruckus, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Tristan said, handing her what remained of her champagne without changing inflection. Their fingers brushed, which sent a tingle through Lillian, but his expression seemed distant.
Was he excited to see her, annoyed? She couldn’t tell, so she scanned the place to see if her sister had returned from the tour. Why could Hannah never be present with her emotion detector when Lillian needed her?
“I…I didn’t mean to disrupt your conversation. I should go now,” Lillian said again and tried to keep her knees from knocking together.
“Yes.” Angelina bared her teeth, dabbing at the liquid on her dress with a napkin a waiter brought her. “Good idea.”
“Wait,” Tristan said, taking a step toward Lillian. “Why are you here?”
“I…I took the tour,” she said dumbly.
Angelina made a disgusted sound. “Let her go. She obviously didn’t come here to see you.”
Tristan said nothing but continued staring at Lillian, a question in his gaze.
Lillian pulled in air and dug deep for courage. She’d promised herself if she had the opportunity to see Tristan again, she would tell him the truth. The moment had arrived, and she wouldn’t get another opportunity. What was she waiting for?
She took a deep breath. “I came to thank you for saving my life. Hannah told me what you did…how ill you were as a result.”
He shrugged as if it were nothing. “Is that all? I’d do it again if I had to.”
“I…thank you, Tristan. I should have trusted you when you asked me to. I was wrong to lie the way I did.”
“Oh, please,” Angelina said, turning to Tristan with a scowl. “Are you really buying her bullshit? This woman lied to you, repeatedly, the entire time you were acquainted. Why would you believe she’s telling the truth now?”
Tristan said nothing, just continued to stare at Lillian with that hard-to-decipher expression, as if his computer-brain was analyzing all the inputs and outputs.
She swallowed. “Angelina’s right…you have no reason to trust me. But I am being honest with you. I have no cause to lie.”
“Oh, please.” Angelina snorted and tugged on Tristan’s arm. “I’d say she has billions of reasons to lie…as in dollars. C’mon, let me get you out of here.”
Tristan didn’t move, so Lillian rushed on before she lost her courage. “I didn’t mean what I said—that last day. I was terrified of being discovered and of…of your being hurt, and so I told a lie I thought you would believe. I need you to know that. I’m truly sorry.”
“What was it she lied about?” Angelina rolled her eyes, still dabbing at her dress with the napkin. “Oh, let me guess. She told you she hated you when she supposedly loves you. That’s the biggest scam in the book.”
“That’s enough, Angelina.”
Angelina stiffened at Tristan’s authoritarian tone. “Don’t tell me you believe her story? Can’t you see what’s she trying to do? She’s trying to wheedle her way into your life again.”
Lillian’s tour guide, who had been listening to the entire conversation, a rapt expression on his face, latched onto Angelina with a snicker. “I think it’s time you and I, little lady, got better acquainted. C’mon, let me get you a drink.”
“What? Never.” Angelina objected, but the man was already dragging her away from Tristan. As Lillian knew all too well, the gentleman had a powerful grip.
“Let me go, you filthy jerk. I don’t want a drink.”
“You can clean your dress, then. Your choice. Let’s just leave these two to get reacquainted.”
“Thanks, Brian,” Tristan nodded at the tour guide as they passed by in a flail of arms and muscles.
“Just because you’re his bodyguard doesn’t mean you can tell me what to do…” Angelina’s voice screeched and trailed off into the distance as the man hauled her away.
“Wait…he’s your bodyguard?” Lillian turned to Tristan and narrowed her gaze. “Now who’s being deceptive?
Tristan smiled, and it sent a small jolt through Lillian’s heart, igniting her talent.
“He’s the head of my security team, actually, but he pretends to be my bodyguard when he’s in the mood.”
“He’s the one who investigated me and prepared the report, isn’t he?”
“Yes.” Tristan’s voice was smooth and calm, but he narrowed his gaze, and his rising energy had Lillian shifting from one foot to the other. “As I told you before, it was the only way I could discover the truth. But let’s get back to the topic at hand, shall we. You were saying?”
“Saying?” Lillian asked.
“Earlier, about lying.” Tristan’s gaze registered impatience and something else, something that looked a lot like anticipation.
Lillian gulped when she thought about what she needed to do. The moment of truth had arrived, and she needed to pull up her big girl panties and say what she’d come here to tell him. Her throat seemed to close but she managed to squeeze the words out on a single rushed breath. “IliedwhenItoldyouIonlysleptwithyouasathankyou…IsleptwithyoubecauseIwantedto.”
“Wanted to? You mean…”
She had looked down at her feet, but now she raised her head until their eyes met, and she was looking into those familiar deep-blue irises, which seemed focused on her with laser-sharp intensity.
“I didn’t tell the truth when I said the reason I didn’t want to be with you was because I wanted healthy children. You’re a burner, Tristan. Burners can’t inherit diseases like Huntington’s.”
“They can’t?” Tristan looked stunned.
“No, they can’t. And even if if they could, my DNA is…different. If we had children, there would be an approximate fifty percent chance they’d inherit a talent like mine or some other paranormal gift.”
“A talent like yours.”
Lillian didn’t know what she expected to see in his eyes…disbelief, irritation, anger, disgust? But his expression never altered, and whatever emotion flickered in their ocean depths remained hidden. If only Tristan said something, anything, a single sentence indicating he accepted Lillian’s apology. If only he said he forgave her for lying and still cared for her. If only his silence didn’t tell her all she needed to know.
She looked past him to see a large man, standing about a foot away, his gaze on her. Wasn’t that Fred from the park? What an odd coincidence. She waved, but he didn’t acknowledge the gesture.
Tristan turned to look where she was waving. “Someone you know?”
“Yes…I mean no. But I’ve seen him before…at a park near my house.”
“Oh.”
Tristan’s face lost a bit of color, which seemed odd, but maybe her being here embarrassed him. After all, she’d drenched his fiancée in champagne then admitted she’d lied to him more than once.
She dropped her gaze. It was time to gather her tattered pride and beat a fast exit.
“I’ll go now. I wish you every happiness with….” She couldn’t bring herself to say Angelina, but managed to fling a hand in the lady’s direction, forgetting about the champagne glass she was holding. The last of its contents sloshed onto Tristan’s shirt.
She watched in horrified silence as he glanced down at the stain.
“Oh, God, Tristan. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…I’ll pay for the dry cleaning,” she stuttered, while he examined the damage with a bemused expression.
At least he didn’t seem angry. But what a disaster the evening had turned out to be.
“Goodbye.” Before she could make a bigger fool of herself, Lillian turned and fled the solarium.
This time, no one stopped her.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Lillian gasped for air as she tore open the front door and hightailed it out of Tristan’s mansion, blood pumping fast and furious through her veins. Had she honestly expected he’d believe her after she’d told so many lies earlier in their acquaintance? And then to dump champagne on him after doing the same thing to his fiancée? What a klutz.
Her cheeks burned, but she wasn’t sure if the cause was the mad dash to the shuttle or the shame filling her chest. Thank God the bus was waiting. She climbed onto it and made her way to the back, searching for Hannah in every seat she passed, but her sister was nowhere in sight. Most of the seats were empty of passengers since the guests were still at the party. Maybe she should get off the bus and look for Hannah at the house?
Too late.
Before she could make up her mind, the driver pulled away from the curb and headed toward the vast parking lot. A few minutes later, the shuttle stopped next to Hannah’s car, and the doors opened.
Lillian got out and studied the vehicle, then turned and watched as the bus pulled away, heading back to pick up more passengers. She slumped against the car, then dug for her phone and sent a quick text to Hannah.
I’m at the car. Her sister had the keys.
A minute later, her cell phone buzzed with an answering text. Just finishing up the tour. Won’t be long.
Lillian tapped her foot and scanned the parking lot, but it was empty of people, so she made a conscious effort to slow her heart rate and try not to think about her rapid exit and the bemused look on Tristan’s face when she’d flung the last of her champagne at him.
She shuddered. How horrible this would be her last memory of him.
She closed her eyes and imagined herself on a beach, enjoying the warm rays of the sun. The mental imagery seemed to work, her breaths evening out. The squeal of the hydraulic brakes on the bus reentering the parking lot to unload its next set of passengers jolted her back to the present. A young couple got off, followed by a group of women, and a single man—Tristan.
Her heartbeat tripped into overtime. His hair looked a bit windblown from when she’d last seen him, and he glanced in every direction with a determined air until his gaze found hers.
Lillian’s pulse leaped, and she looked for somewhere to leap as well, but there was no way out, unless she wanted to run across the open parking lot in wedges, which she did not.
Tristan didn’t increase his gait, but his long legs made short work of the concrete. And then he was in front of her, smelling like his minty pine cologne and sweat and champagne and more than a few fantasies she’d had of long summer nights with him underneath the covers.
Lillian couldn’t stop a shiver. What the hell was wrong with her? She had no business dreaming of nights under the covers with Tristan. He was engaged to be married.
Even so, she took a deep gulp of his unique scent and held it in her lungs while he peered into her eyes like he would read her soul.
He touched a strand of her hair. “I wondered what color it would be…underneath the wig. They had you hooked up to so many machines the last time I saw you in the hospital that I wasn’t exactly sure.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I’m sorry I didn’t show you myself when you asked. I was trying to protect you.”
“Did you mean everything you said back there?”
