Knowing His Secret Read Online Free Page B

appreciate being manipulated. He was just too smooth. Too practiced. Too damn sure of himself and his effect on a woman. Although I wanted him, a part of me was screaming for a little bit of pride.
    The hall that he illuminated in front of us was as ornate as I expected it to be. It was full of tapestries and the trim work was incredible--busts and angels and all sorts of things worked into intricate carving.
    "Don't take this place too seriously. It is most definitely not me ." He looked almost embarrassed by the opulence of the place. "I bought it because of the property--the land. It's on over a hundred acres and has a kick ass river along the back boundary." He led me to the 'porch' which was an extensive patio overlooking a rectangular pool and a lawn that seemed to go on forever.
    Tucked into the far end of the patio was an outdoor kitchen and living room. It had obviously been an upgrade.
    "This and a couple of the bedrooms are where I live when I'm here. What I really want to do is endow this historic pile to some worthy cause and build my own place back by the river."
    "What w ill you build?" I watched him in the soft golden glow of the lights as he went to the bar. His movements made me wonder what it would be like to dance with him.
    "Something painfully modern. I want as much glass as I can get so it feels like you're living outdoors. I'll tuck it way back in the woods so that no one can see me running around naked."
    "Do you do that often? Run around naked?" I couldn't help it. He leapt into my imagination--all golden skin and hair against a background of forest that matched his eyes.
    "As much as I can," he grinned devilishly at me and caught me blushing, again. "What can I fix you to drink?"
    "Whatever you're having's fine."
    He cocked an eyeb row at me and began mixing away while I vainly tried to push the image of his nakedness to the back of my mind. He brought me a glass and sat beside me on the sofa. He sat close enough so that his knee was touching my thigh as he turned to clink glasses with me.
    "To the play!"
    "Break a leg," I answered. I took a nice healthy swig of the pale green drink Tristan had made for us. I nearly choked. It was very tart and very, very strong. "What the hell is this?" I finally managed to gasp out.
    He threw his head back and laughed. "It's a Kamikaze . Vodka, triple sec and a little Rose's lime juice. You don't have to drink it."
    "No, that's okay…it's growing on me," I told him as I took another swallow. The warmth from his knee against me and the spreading heat from the alcohol were about make the idea of pride go up in smoke. He took his finger and ran it around my jaw line up to my ear where he traced the outline delicately and tapped my simple hoop earring so that it swayed in the lobe. I pulled my breath in deeply.
    " You're certainly growing on me…" The suggestive line belonged in a script. I tried to think of a snappy retort and came up empty. He was intoxicating in spite of the predictable moves. There wasn't anything inherently wrong with being rich, handsome and full of yourself, I rationalized. But, if I went for it, I'd have some long awkward weeks ahead of me until the play ran its course. That, and I'd have the rest of the cast, plus those catty bitches to deal with. I'd have 'used' tattooed on my forehead. The men would pity me and the girls would laugh at me.
    Kwan appeared with a tray and set it on the coffee table in front of the couch. It was a welcome distraction. The tray had a little dish of olives, some type of sausage and something wrapped in leaves. Tristan peeled the leaves away to reveal a small round of cheese. He tore a bite-sized piece off of the crusty loaf of bread and slathered it with the gooey cheese. He raised it to my mouth and fed me. I couldn't help but moan with pleasure as the unctuous buttery flavor hit my palate.
    "Banon de Chalais," he said as he fixed a bit for himself. "From Provence. It's wrapped in brandy soaked chestnut