Healing Kiss, page 4
“Yes.” There was no reason to lie.
He sighed and flashed her a look of…what…disappointment? Although why her telling him she was a nurse should be disappointing, she wasn’t sure. Maybe he hated nurses?
He turned and strolled to the window, looking out at who knows what. “You equate nursing to a talent, like singing or playing the piano? Let me tell you. You can’t help her. No one can. Although maybe you can entertain her with your stethoscope.” Sarcasm dripped from his voice.
She didn’t care if he thought this was an elaborate scheme to get his attention as long as he agreed to help. She crossed to his side. She could see their full reflections in the long windowpane. His face looked harsh and tired; her eyes wide and lost. A gust of wind blew a tree branch against the window, making a tap-tap-tapping sound.
“Why not let me try? What do you have to lose?”
His expression grew grimmer—if that were possible. “I’ve already tried everything. She has maybe a year or two if I’m lucky.” The words were guttural and sharp, as if they were ripped from some well-guarded part of himself.
Lillian turned toward him. She had a feeling whatever she said now would decide Hannah’s fate, but she wouldn’t offer false hope or make promises she couldn’t keep. “I don’t know if I can help your mom, Tristan. But I swear if you come with me now, I’ll do what I can. In return, I’m only asking you to visit with Hannah for an hour or so. She thinks the world of you and might not live long enough to meet you otherwise.”
His dark gaze met hers in the window. Silence stretched between them, broken only by the faint murmur of party noises and the tapping of the tree branch. She’d lost. He didn’t believe her story and wasn’t going to help.
She couldn’t control the tremble on her lips, a small sob escaping before she could stop it. “You might save her life. Don’t you care?”
Hot tears rushed to her eyes, blinding her, but she turned her head, refusing to blink. Of course, he wouldn’t help her. Why would he? He was a suspicious and busy man who clearly didn’t trust easily and had his own mother to worry about. She’d have to find another way to save Hannah.
She retrieved her purse from the chair. If Hannah were well, she could tell Lillian exactly what emotions were happening behind Tristan’s well-guarded expression. But Hannah was dying, which was why Lillian was in this predicament to begin with.
She tightened her hand around her purse and moved toward the door. She couldn’t fall apart; she was running out of precious time to cure her sister.
“I’m…I’m leaving now. I need to get back to the hospital.” Her voice only fluctuated a little.
She reached for the doorknob, but a soft touch on her shoulder stopped her. She hadn’t heard him move.
“Zoey, wait. I’ll help.”
Chapter Four
“I’ll help you, but I highly doubt my presence will have any effect on your friend’s health.” Tristan led her back inside the office, her arm tingling where he held it. “And there’s little you or anyone can do for my mom, short of a miracle.” His jaw tightened, hinting at deeper emotions. “But I’m sympathetic to your friend’s situation, so I’ll make you a deal.”
“Deal?”
What deal? She’d already offered him the only item she could think to bargain with, and he’d rejected it out of hand. What more could he possibly want, unless…was he about to pounce on her, demanding a roll in the sack?
She clutched her purse, imagining herself slapping his arrogant face and storming out of the room, dignity intact. Except she couldn’t—her sister’s life depended on his cooperation.
He gestured to the couch, for her to sit no doubt. She complied—what other choice did she have? The hair on her arms stiffened like a small army ready for battle.
He obviously had no idea of her thoughts because he sat next to her, flooding her nostrils with his clean, masculine scent. Only thirty minutes in his company, and Lillian’s body quivered, stimulated by his unusual energy level, no doubt. She adjusted her rear end on the couch cushion and avoided looking at his grim profile.
“I have another fundraiser tomorrow night, and…I could use a date.”
“A date?” Alarm sharpened her voice more than she intended. Now she did look up to see his razor-sharp eyes locked on hers. “Are you joking?”
He smiled, and she supposed he meant it to be reassuring, but it came off looking like the Grim Reaper and did nothing to settle her nerves. “I’m quite serious. I need a date for Saturday evening—a large charity event the hospital is hosting, and I’m obligated to attend. You need me to visit your friend tonight. Seems like an even trade.”
“I’m sure you know dozens of women who would enjoy being your date. Why do you need me?”
“The women I know would all expect a second date. And a third. I have no interest in romantic entanglements. I need someone who has no expectations of anything further. Someone who can dress the part and look convincing by my side. Someone I won’t have to run into and make awkward conversation with at similar parties a month or a year from now. Someone who lives out of state, so I’m unlikely to see them again.”
She sniffed, trying not to take offense at his description, which made her sound like…what exactly? An actress, a nobody, an unimportant speck of dust who didn’t matter? “What exactly would I have to do?”
Something flashed in his eyes…triumph, regret, boredom? He shrugged as if he hadn’t thought through the details fully. “Dress in your finest, hang on my arm, pretend like you admire me—whatever you might normally do on a similar date.”
She adjusted the grip on her purse. What did a girl normally do on a date? She couldn’t remember it had been so long. What harm would it do to attend a single party with him? Even if she managed to cure Hannah tonight, she couldn’t leave until she was certain her sister had recovered. “If I do this, be your date tomorrow, you’ll come with me, tonight, to visit my friend?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll do it, then.”
“Great.” A ghost of a smile formed on his hard features, and now she recognized the gleam for what it was—satisfaction. This was a man used to getting his way.
“I do have a few other requirements, though.”
Ah, now the pouncing would commence. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, and it took her several seconds to make her lips form intelligible words. “What…what requirements?”
“I want more information. What’s your friend’s name, for starters?
“Hannah. Hannah Milano.”
“I’ll need access to Hannah’s medical records and will want to talk to her doctor. You’ll need to have her family sign the necessary paperwork to make it possible.”
Lillian would never let Tristan know it, but he intimidated her. The power he generated pierced her mind, bending her to his will like a tree branch blown about in a strong wind. He oozed confidence, wealth, command. She would have to watch, or he’d run roughshod over her.
She lifted her chin, keeping her gaze on his. “Why do you need all of that? What do you hope to do?”
He gave her a cool look. “I think I can offer more than just a Make-A-Wish style meet and greet. You seem to forget I have a great deal of resources. I want to understand what her condition is and to see what, if anything, I can do to help.”
She raised her chin a notch. “All right. But I want you to consult with me before you do anything.”
“Fair enough.” He nodded easily. Too easily. She got the feeling he was testing her.
He stood and faced her, hands on lean hips, dark hair tousled, every inch a billionaire tycoon. “Where are you staying while you’re in town?”
“At the hospital. There hasn’t been time to get a hotel room. I’ll worry about that when Hannah’s well.”
“You’ll need to shower and sleep. No sense booking a hotel room. You can stay here. I’ve plenty of space, and it’s not far from the hospital. I’ll see that you get back and forth safely.”
A shiver started at the nape of her neck and tingled down her spine. Was this a trap? An elaborate plan to hand her over to Kinetica? “That won’t be necessary. I’m sure I can find a hotel.”
“Nonsense. This place is big enough to accommodate a large crowd. If the situation is as desperate as you say, then you don’t have time to waste searching for a hotel.”
He was right. Besides, if Kinetica were watching Hannah, they’d most likely look for Lillian at the hospital or her dad’s house. They’d never expect her to be at Tristan’s. She’d be safer from discovery there.
She stood and moved toward the door. “You win. I’ll stay at your place. Can we go now?” Hannah would be dead by morning if they didn’t hurry.
He pointed to the wine stain on his shirt. “Give me a second to change my shirt. I’ll be quick.”
He turned and moved past her with all the grace of a tiger stalking its prey. The image lodged in her brain, refusing to remove itself.
“Wait here,” he flung back over his shoulder, as if he thought she’d disappear.
And then he was gone, and she was left to tap her feet and study his orderly desk. She reached for the wineglass, bumping the mouse. A large white K appeared in the center of the computer monitor. She almost dropped the glass before she realized the K was for King and not Kinetica. A cold heaviness filled her lungs. Had she made a mistake agreeing to his bargain? Could she trust Tristan? But what other choice did she have?
Her hands went to her cheeks, which were hot to the touch, and her heart tapped out an erratic rhythm. What had she gotten herself into?
She need only spend time with Tristan for a short while. Until she healed Hannah. This was only a brief interlude born out of necessity. A day or so—the promised date—and she’d be gone, and Tristan would be doing Tristan things.
So, why did she feel like she’d wandered into a hungry tiger’s den and was about to be eaten for his dinner?
What the hell was he thinking? Agreeing to leave his own party to accompany Zoey because of some crazy-ass fantasy she had that his presence would help her friend.
Tristan tugged off his shirt, pulling it over his head and throwing it on the bed. More than likely this was a sympathy ploy to get him to pay her hospital bills. It wouldn’t be the first time. The last time he’d listened to a woman’s sob story, he’d been duped into giving a large sum to a charity that didn’t exist. He cringed at the memory. He’d be a fool to make a mistake like that again.
He grabbed a replacement shirt from the walk-in closet and slipped it on, gritting his teeth until his jaw hurt. He knew the answer to why he’d agreed to Zoey’s request. Tomorrow night’s charity bash promised to be excruciating. He needed a partner—someone Angelina might actually believe he liked and who wouldn’t expect anything more from him. He needed someone like the calm, elusive Zoey.
He straightened his collar, studying his grim expression in the mirror above the dresser. As much as he hated to acknowledge it, he wasn’t immune to Angelina’s advances, and she knew it. Every time she flirted with other men, she chipped away at his resolve.
He grabbed a comb from his nightstand and ran it through his hair. Resisting Angelina was only part of the reason he’d agreed to Zoey Mills’s request, though. How could he—or any decent human being—not feel for Zoey or her friend? There had been sincere desperation in her voice tonight. He knew the feeling well. He wrestled with it every day as he watched his mom slowly slipping away. Slipping into someone he didn’t recognize. Someone who couldn’t possibly be the smart, independent woman who’d raised him on her own.
He tried to flatten the hair that insisted on curling on one side, but it wouldn’t stay down. He couldn’t slow the monster stealing his only living relative from him, but if he could find a way to save Zoey’s friend, it would give him immense satisfaction.
He slipped into the bathroom and ran water over the comb, tugging it through his hair and letting out a satisfied growl when it finally stayed in place. He would do what he could to aid in Hannah Milano’s recovery—arrange for top doctors, see that she had the best treatment. If his position and wealth could make a difference, Hannah would survive.
Tristan gripped the marble sink, considering his reflection. Looking himself in the eye, he could not avoid an important truth. It wasn’t only Angelina and an attack of conscience that had him agreeing to help—it was Zoey herself.
He opened a drawer, pulled out his toothbrush and toothpaste, applied a small amount to his brush. Zoey was different than the women who threw themselves in his path on a regular basis.
He began brushing, slowly, methodically, first one side, then the other. She didn’t seem interested in him romantically and didn’t seem to want his attention. Of course, she could be pretending disinterest, but he didn’t think so. This intrigued him.
He wiped his mouth on the plush white towel, then tossed it into the hamper, where he wished he could toss the remainder of his restless thoughts. He would do what he could to help Hannah, and in the process, figure out what Zoey was hiding. Maybe his efforts would keep him from succumbing to Angelina’s charms for a while longer.
He gathered his phone and his keys from the sleek mahogany dresser. As unlikely and slim as he knew it was, if by some miracle his visit helped Zoey’s friend, maybe the universe held a similar miracle cure for his mother. His heart refused to give up on the possibility, although, logically, he recognized its foolishness.
Tristan made a quick phone call, took a last look around his bedroom, and headed down the hall to find Zoey, his logical mind already analyzing the situation from every angle. His pulse raced along with his thoughts, which was a bit puzzling. It had to be the result of the intrigue surrounding his guest and the fact Angelina was at the party.
Chapter Five
Lillian moved back and forth from the office window to Tristan’s desk, refusing to look at his computer monitor. Her stomach shimmied, the overdone grilled cheese not sitting well.
She frowned at the dark mark on her chest from her earlier collision with the glass of red wine. The stain had probably set, but to calm her nerves, she’d see if she could find a bathroom and try to clean it.
Lillian tried the room next door and found a series of tall glass windows and what looked like a workstation used for potting plants, next to a sink. She opened some cupboard doors and spotted a sponge, which she wet to scrub at the stain. After a few minutes with some success, she ditched the sponge. She turned to leave, pausing before the windows to check out the view.
She drew in a breath and let it out slow. If fairies walked the earth, they most certainly lived outside Tristan’s window. Winterberry shrubs sporting twinkling solar lights dotted the landscape, reflecting the sparkling stars in the velvet night sky. Lillian slipped off her high heels and leaned toward the cold glass, her breath making it fog.
“What has you so fascinated?”
She flinched, nearly bumping into the windowpane at the sound of Tristan’s deep voice coming directly behind her. “Nothing important.” Could the man be any lighter on his feet? If she could, she’d hang a bell around his neck. She bent to slip into her heels, avoiding his gaze. “Sorry, I wasn’t snooping. I was cleaning the wine from my dress.” She gestured at the wet spot. “I’m glad the dress is black. Are you ready?”
He smiled and surprised her by reaching out a hand and brushing what must have been a water droplet from her shoulder. “Yes, are you?”
She frowned at the goosebumps racing up her arm at his touch but managed to nod.
He gestured toward the door, indicating she should go in front of him. “If your friend was well, I’d show you the garden. It’s one of my favorite parts of the estate.”
She suspected when Hannah had recovered, Lillian wouldn’t be in Cleveland to see Tristan’s garden, but she managed to nod and smile, which he could interpret however he liked.
She followed him downstairs but almost plowed into his back when he paused to point to a shiny silver dish on a nearby table. “Leave your keys. I’ll have someone move your car into the drive. We’ll take mine.”
Her stomach reacted at his authoritarian tone by turning over. It should be no big deal to hand over the car keys. But it was. She shook her head. “This isn’t my car—it’s Hannah’s dad’s. I’ll need to get it back to him. I took him home earlier and left my rental at the hospital. Besides, you’ll need to get to your party afterward, won’t you? I’m not leaving the hospital. Why don’t you follow me in your car?”
He turned. “I’m not worried about the party. I am concerned about your safety driving late at night after what has to be a long day. If you give me your address, I’ll have someone drive your car to your friend’s dad’s house. You can leave your rental at the hospital, and I’ll take you back and forth…please.” He added the last in what seemed like an afterthought, as if he wasn’t used to having his decisions questioned, and held out his hand for the keys.
She studied his outstretched hand. He’d agreed to help Hannah. He’d be spending time with Lillian in Hannah’s hospital room. Like it or not, Lillian would have to trust Tristan—at least for tonight. She placed the keys in his palm, but as soon as they left her hand, she itched to pluck them from the dish where he deposited them.
He put his hand under her elbow to guide her along, and she suppressed another shiver. How was it a simple touch had her skin tingling again? She couldn’t be shivering every time he touched her, or he’d get the wrong impression.
“This way,” he said, leading her through the garage and out to his car, which beeped, the sound reassuring in the quiet night. A breeze cooled her hot cheeks. Nothing stirred in the driveway.
“Are you okay, Zoey?”
Their gazes locked. Heat overpowered her senses, and she shrugged, trying to distance herself from his wild energy. “I’m fine.”
