He pulled her into his arms. “Wouldn’t you rather go back to the room?” He tried to make his voice sexy and hot but her lips tightened and she shook her head.
“I’ve never been to Mexico.”
“It’s
Ensenada
.”
She laughed. “That’s still Mexico.”
“Hardly. It’s like, LA-South.”
“Come on. I want to go shopping.” She tugged at his hand and, of course, he followed. But something niggled at the back of his mind. A little voice whispered something was wrong. He just couldn’t put his finger on it.
Not to save his life.
Chapter Twelve
The pier was a tourist trap. Passengers—from the boats docked neatly in a row—vied with the each other to purchase cheesy trinkets but Shannon loved it. It was a crazy carnival atmosphere with the delicious scent of churros and lime heavy in the air. Strolling mariachi bands entertained the crowd and a troupe of jugglers performed tricks for tips. Booze flowed freely.
Tristan and Shannon walked from stall to stall, holding hands. Every once in a while one would point something out to the other and they would laugh. The sun was warm on her shoulders and a soft breeze teased at her hair. She tipped up her face, just enjoying the day, the feel of his palm against hers. His presence by her side.
Over to her left, a little girl with enormous brown eyes was making her dog, a poor Chihuahua dressed up like a clown, do flips for the crowd. Shannon’s heart melted. She fished in her purse and pulled out a five and tucked it into the tip jar.
“You shouldn’t encourage her,” Tristan whispered into her ear.
“Why not? They’re so cute.”
“She should be in school.”
Shannon laughed. “You, sir, are a curmudgeon.”
His eye went wide. “I am not a curmudgeon.”
“You are. Oh look.” Another stall, one with tiny clothes decorated with intricate embroidery, caught her eye. She stepped closer. “How adorable.”
“Baby clothes?”
Shannon stilled. One piece, an exquisite christening gown, snared her attention and something inside her quivered. It hit her again, and it hit her hard.
She
was going to have a baby. A baby who might wear a gown like this.
An emotion she’d never known welled up in her chest. She pulled the hanger from the rack and held the piece out. Once she touched it, she knew she had to have it.
“
Cuánto
?”
“You’re not going to buy that, are you?”
She froze. She’d forgotten. Forgotten he didn’t know. Forgotten she couldn’t tell him. She flashed him an enormous smile. “For my sister.”
“Is she expecting?”
“They’re trying.” She turned back to the vendor, a wrinkled old woman with the bright light of hope in her eyes. “
Cuánto
?”
The woman told her the price and though it was high, Shannon pulled out the money and paid for the little dress right then and there. As the woman wrapped the gown in tissue, Shannon struggled with feelings she couldn’t quite place. There was a happiness, a bone-deep elation, but it was wreathed in sadness. Regret.
She took the bag, trembling with the knowledge she’d just made the first purchase she would ever make for her child.
Her child.
She would never forget this moment.
“Hey! Margaritas.” Tristan snapped his fingers like a flamenco dancer. “Do you want one?”
Shannon put her hand to her belly and wrinkled her nose. “I-I’d better not.”
“Oh yeah.” His face fell. “Are you still feeling queasy?”
“No.” She wasn’t. In fact, she felt wonderful. “But you go ahead. I want—” Heavens. What was that smell? She cast around the plaza until she found it. A fajita stand. Her mouth watered. Like a zombie, she made her way in that direction. “Umm. Fajitas.”
Tristan skipped along behind her. “Shannon. I don’t think you should have spicy foods.”
“Mmm. Onions. And peppers.” Her belly growled. She wanted nothing more than to eat and eat and eat.
He gave in eventually and they both had fajitas. He washed his down with a margarita and she had a bottle of water.
She had another fajita. And, to Tristan’s astonishment, another. On top of that she gobbled down two churros and a cup of ice cream.
“You’re amazing.” Tristan laughed as she licked the last little bit of ice cream from her cup and looked around for more.
She grinned. “Just making up for lost time, I guess.”
“I guess!”
They were walking back to the boat, hand in hand, when Tristan suddenly stopped in his tracks. “Shit!”
Shannon, perforce, stopped as well. “What is it?”
“Come here. Hurry.”
He pulled her around a corner and together they huddled behind a stall featuring enormous sombreros with the word “MEXICO” painted in gaudy colors on the brim.
“Did you want to buy a hat?”
“No. Shh!” He peered out at the crowd. His entire body was tense.
“What’s wrong?”
“Damn it. It
is
him.”
“Who?”
“Levin. Damn it. Scoot back a little. I don’t want him to see us.”
Shannon stepped back. She stepped back and stared at Tristan. Saw him. Saw their relationship, perhaps for the first time.
The pain racking her heart was sharp and bittersweet. There was probably anger swirling around in there somewhere as well.
Because Tristan tracked Levin’s every move and angled her deeper into the stall as his friend hove into view.
Hiding her.
And she knew.
In her heart of hearts, she knew.
She couldn’t be with Tristan.
She couldn’t be with a man who was ashamed to be seen with her. Who willfully kept their relationship a secret.
It hadn’t bothered her—well, not too much—before. At first.
But it bothered her now.
She couldn’t even school her expression when Levin finally climbed the gangplank of one of the other ships. When he turned around and his gaze fell on her face, he paled.
Fortunately he didn’t patronize her by asking what was wrong. He had the
cajones
to refrain from playing games. “Shannon, that was not what it looked like.”
“It looked like you were avoiding your friend.”
“I was.”
“Because you’re here with me.”
He sighed and dragged his fingers through his hair. “We’ve been through this.”
“I know.”
“It’s just, if Adam knew…”
“I know.”
“He would make my life a living hell.”
“I know. I get it. I understand.”
“Then why are you angry?”
Shannon glanced around the plaza, at the beautiful day, at all the people having a wonderful time, totally oblivious to the devastating heartbreak going on right inside her chest. “I’m not angry, Tristan. I’m hurt.” She swallowed, a pathetic attempt to force back the tears hovering on her lashes. It didn’t work. One fell, and then another. And then many.
“Shannon. Honey. Please don’t cry.”
“I’m not crying!” Why she yelled, she had no clue. Her emotions were all in a welter.
He reached out to dab at the stream but she dashed his hand away. “Shannon…”
“I’m just tired of it, Tristan. Tired of being a part of your life you cannot bear to share with your friends. Your brother. Your mother!”
He blinked. “You want to meet my mother?”
“No! Yes! Tristan, that’s not the point.”
“What is the point? Is there a point?”
He was glaring at her now, which was just ducky, because she was glaring right back. “Oh, there’s a point all right. It’s just on the top of your head.”
“What? What does that mean? Is it some kind of British insult?”
“Ooh. You make me so angry sometimes!”
He took a step back. “I’ve never seen you angry.” He leaned in and whispered, “It’s kinda hot.”
She smacked him. Not hard, just a fist to his rock-hard shoulder, but she smacked him. She couldn’t help it. Besides, he deserved it. “If you are too bloody ashamed of me to introduce me to your friends—”
“Levin’s not my friend. He’s Adam’s. Don’t you see? That’s why—”
“I don’t even know Levin. I’ve never met the man. He wouldn’t know me from Adam.”
Tristan smiled. “He’d know you from
Adam
.”
It was a joke. A bad one. “Stop it! Just stop it!”
“Come on, Shannon. Don’t you think you’re overreacting?”
Wrong thing to say.
Heat crawled up her cheeks. “Oh shut up.”
“Shannon…”
“No. I mean it. Shut up and listen. It’s over.”
He paled. “No. Don’t say that.”
“It is. O-ver.”
“Shannon, baby…”
She froze. Everything inside her froze, her muscles, her blood, her breath. “Don’t you ever call me baby.”
“What? Why?”
“Never. Do you hear me?”
“Shannon, honey, calm down. Let’s talk about this.”
“No. I’m done talking. I’m done hiding. I’m done,” she waved her hand at the Mexican hat stand, “skulking in the shadows.”
“We weren’t skulking.”
“Oh. We were. We were skulking. We’ve been skulking all along. And I am done with it. Finished.” She began to flounce away but stopped and spun around to face him once more. “And when we get back home, I’m leaving Trillo–Maris.”
“You can’t leave Trillo–Maris!” Was that panic warbling in his voice? Good. She didn’t care.
“I’m leaving Trillo–Maris,” she hissed. “And I am leaving you.”
To say their drive home was uncomfortable was an understatement. Tristan had never realized the trip from San Pedro to Tarzana could take so long. Shannon hadn’t spoken to him after their fight on the pier. He’d tried several times to engage her in conversation, to talk it over, but she froze him out every time. She was much more determined than he was, especially when it came to being stubborn.
She’d slept on the little sofa in their cabin all night long and when he’d offered to give her the bed, she’d just glared at him. She’d been sick again in the morning. She seemed fine now. But he knew better than to ask.
He shot a glance at her profile. Something deep in his gut clenched. She was so damn lovely. He didn’t like having her angry with him. But still…
He bit back a smile as he drove. This was their first fight and as fights went, it’d been pretty spectacular. He was looking forward to the make-up sex. He only regretted he hadn’t been able to charm her out of her pique on the ship. They’d missed out on almost all the adventures he’d had planned with strawberries and whipped cream, the champagne foot bath and an illicit massage on the deck.
Hopefully it wouldn’t take her long to simmer down so they could work things out. She wasn’t leaving Trillo–Maris and she sure as hell wasn’t leaving him. No way.
The thought sent his blood pressure rising. He’d realized on the cruise—when she was sick, when he held her in his arms and, more to the point, when he couldn’t—he wanted more from her than some tawdry affair. He wanted much more.
He didn’t want to think about life without her and, whatever it took, he’d do it to keep her.
And damn it all, she was right. It was time to quit hiding their relationship. It was time to take the next step. The big step. The very serious step that made his knees weak and his belly quake.
He was going to have to tell Adam.
Chapter Thirteen
It was late. Probably too late for visiting but Shannon couldn’t wait. She needed to talk with someone—a friend—and she needed to talk now. She felt like her brain was going to explode with all the thoughts and emotions swirling around. She raised her hand and knocked on the door.
It took a few minutes but Kat finally answered. Thank God she was still dressed.
“Shannon.” Kat gaped at the sight of her then recovered herself and opened the door. “Come in.”
“I hope it’s not too late?”
“No. Never. Shannon…what’s wrong?”
Shannon gushed an inappropriate laugh. “Do I look that bad?”
“No. Of course not. Come in.”
What a relief. What a blessed relief to find a warm welcome on a night like this. She didn’t mean to fall into Kat’s arms in her foyer and she certainly didn’t mean to start crying immediately. But sometimes these things couldn’t be helped.
Kat, being as wonderful as she was, just held her and patted her back and murmured nice things like, “It’ll be ok,” until the worst of it was over.
“I am so sorry.” Shannon mopped at her cheeks with the tissue Kat handed her. And then she mopped rather ineffectually at the stain she’d made on Kat’s shoulder.
“It’s all right.”
“No it’s not. It’s s-s-silk.” She was burbling and she knew it.
“Shan. Don’t worry about it. Come in and sit down.” Kat led her to the sofa. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Hey, Kat?” a deep male voice called from the bedroom. “Who’s at the door?”
Shannon froze. “Adam’s here?” The horror.
“Don’t worry. I’ll tell him to butt out.”
But Adam was already there, padding into the room in a pair of flannel pajama pants with red chili peppers all over them. And nothing else. His features were so much like Tristan’s it hurt to look at him.
“Hey, Shannon.” He stopped. Stared. “Are you all right?”
Kat made a face. “Of course she’s not all right. Go back in the other room and finish watching the movie.”
“Were you watching a movie?” Shannon stood. “I’m sorry. I’ll go.”
Kat caught her hand and pulled her back down onto the sofa. “Adam’s watching the movie. I was reading a book.” She leaned closer and whispered, “It’s a horrible movie.”
“I heard that!”
“Well, it is. Shooting. Fighting. Car chases. Testosterone flying everywhere.” She wiggled her fingers at Adam. “Go. Overdose on Stallone.”
Adam looked from Shannon to Kat. Something in her expression must have convinced him he was not necessary to this conversation because he shrugged and headed back into the bedroom. A moment later a clashing cacophony drifted from the room.
“It really is a horrible movie,” Kat said, standing up and heading for the kitchen. “How about some wine? I have a Moscato.” She found a green bottle and waggled it. “It’s your favorite.”
Shannon swiped at the tears and shook her head. “Just water, please.”
When Kat returned, she had two large glasses filled with ice water and a box of ultra-soft tissues. What a friend.
“So tell me, Shannon. What is going on?”
“Oh Kat…” She glanced at the bedroom.
“Don’t worry. He won’t come out.” Kat grinned. “I have him trained.”
Why this made Shannon burst into another flood of tears, she had no idea. But Kat pulled her back into her arms and nursed her through it until she was just sobbing a little with the occasional hiccough.
“Now. Tell me.”
Shannon sat back and threaded her fingers together, loath to say the words. Worried about what Kat would think of her. “I’m…”
“What?”
It was probably best to just blurt it out. “I’m p-pregnant.”
To her credit, Kat controlled her reaction. Her eyes widened only just so. “How wonderful. Congratulations. I mean, you’re happy about this, aren’t you?”
“About the baby? Yes.” She was. She’d had plenty of time to think about it. And she was happy. Just a little worried.
A silence settled between them as Kat fiddled with the hem of her shirt. At long last she said, “I didn’t even know you were seeing anyone.”
Shannon choked on a watery laugh. “Yes. I’ve been seeing someone.”
“Well, clearly. But I thought you…”
“You thought I what?”
“Never mind. So tell me about him?”
“Him who?”
“You know. The guy.”
Shannon puddled up again. “I don’t want to talk about him.”
“No. Of course not.” Kat patted her knee. “So… What are your plans?”
“Well…” Shannon sat up a little straighter. This was why she wanted to talk to Kat. All business, no pity. “I’m having it.”
“Of course.”
“But I think I need to find another job.”
“Shannon. This is not the time to be starting a new job.”
“Yes. I know. But it could become uncomfortable around the office. You know. When I begin to show.”
“No one at Trillo–Maris is going to judge you. We’re a family.”
An annoying tear tracked its way down Shannon’s cheek. It was true. She felt so at home there. If only… “But Tristan…”
Kat’s lips tightened. “Tristan will just have to learn to deal with it.”
“What?”
“He’s treated you like his personal servant for far too long. No more fourteen-hour days. No more last-minute projects. No more pressure and for heaven’s sake, no more stress.” Ferocity tightened her features. “And, as God is my witness, he will be nice to you.”
Shannon barked a laugh.
“No. I mean it. He can be a tyrant where his company is concerned. Don’t worry, Shan. Adam and I will keep him in line.”
“You’re the best friend ever. But…”
“But what?”
Shannon leaned closer. “You can’t tell Adam. You can’t tell anyone.”
“Shannon, honey. They are gonna figure it out. You know.” Kat held her hand out in front of her own flat belly. Way out in front.
“I know. Just, please, give me some time? And keep it a secret?”
“If you promise to stay.”
“I promise to try to stay.”
“Deal.”
“But listen, Kat. I need to take some time off. You know, to work some things out.”
“I understand.”
“I’m not coming in to work tomorrow. Can you cover for me?”
“Of course. Anything. Take all the time you need.”
Shannon laughed. It wasn’t a humorous laugh. “What I need,” she said, “is nine months.”
After Shannon left, after Kat was certain she was emotionally stable and fit to drive, Adam emerged from the bedroom. He glanced at the door. “That was interesting.”
Kat sniffed. “She just needed to talk.”
“Mmm. Girl talk?”
“Yes, Adam. Girl talk. And it’s confidential. So don’t ask.”
He pouted. “I wasn’t going to ask.”
“You were too.”
“Was not.”
“Really?”
He shrugged. “If it was so confidential, I guess you should have kept your voices down. I heard every word.”
“Adam. You were supposed to be watching a movie!”
“It ended.”
“You heard everything?”
“Yeah.” His expression was grim. “Tristan will not be pleased.”
Tristan came to work on Monday with a bouquet of flowers only to discover not only had Shannon called in sick, she would likely be out the rest of the week. To make matters worse, when he went by her house, several times a day, she wasn’t there. Even Bosco wasn’t there, snuffling and snorting at the door.
If Bosco wasn’t there, she probably wouldn’t be back any time soon.
Each night when he went home, he stood on the patio and stared down at her place through the darkness, just waiting for the lights to flare on. But they didn’t.
It was awful not being with her. Not being able to talk to her. The torment was made worse by the knowledge that she was still angry at him. He didn’t even want to think about her threats to find another job.
She was probably staying with her sister. Or maybe her mother. But Tristan didn’t have their numbers and, try as he might, he couldn’t get the information from Kat. When the hell had she become so close-lipped anyway? Adam was worse. And the two of them together—impossible!
Whenever he so much as mentioned Shannon’s name, they launched into tag-team harangues, nagging that he should stop being such a slave driver, that he should give Shannon more space, let her live her own life.
He wasn’t quite sure what they were babbling about. Shannon had never complained that he was a slave driver—not even that night in the Pleasure Palace.
Hell. Now why did he have to go and think about that?
He forced the memory from his mind. He really didn’t need lust clawing at him on top of everything else.
By the end of the week, he was worried. Really worried. They’d never had a fight before so he didn’t know what the statute of aggravation might be for her. But he had to accept this wasn’t a simple little tiff. This was something much more.
If only he could talk to her, reassure her. Tell her he’d decided to toss his idiotic rule out the window, tell her what he was feeling. But he couldn’t. And to make matters worse, there was no one else he could talk to about it either.
Because no one knew.
Yeah. He was miserable.
By Sunday, he was a mess, reliving every second he’d spent with her in the past month and second-guessing every word he’d said.
He came to the conclusion he’d been a pompous ass.
When Adam called to remind him about the football game they’d agreed to watch together, he almost cried off. He knew he wouldn’t be good company. He knew he really didn’t give a shit who won the game. And he knew he didn’t want to pretend to be civil for an entire afternoon.
But Mom was expecting them. And frankly, Tristan knew it was time to come clean to his brother.
When he got there, the game was already in full swing. Adam, as always, was yelling at the screen. Tristan poked his head into the kitchen and waved to Mom and Kat, who were snapping beans for supper. He grabbed a beer for himself and one for Adam.
“Don’t ruin your appetite,” Mom called as he wandered back to the family room, twisting off the tops.
Mom had an awesome hi-def wide-screen TV. It had been Adam’s idea to get it for her two Christmases ago because she had a larger family room than either of them and she didn’t mind if they had friends over. Not that
she
ever turned it on.
Tristan handed Adam his beer and flopped down on the other end of the overstuffed couch. He waited for a commercial. “Do you have a minute?”
Adam glanced at the screen, checking out hot babes selling beer and web domains, and shrugged. “Probably.” He shoved a handful of popcorn into his mouth.
“Don’t ruin your appetite.”
Adam chuckled. “Yeah. Right. Wassup?”
“There’s something I need to tell you.”
Adam stilled, his beer halfway to his mouth.
Tristan sucked in a deep breath and pulled a small box from his pocket. He tossed it in his brother’s direction. Adam scrambled to catch it—amazingly not spilling a drop of beer. Shooting his brother a curious look, he opened it. He stared at the ring.
“Dude. Are you proposing to me?”
“Never mind.” Tristan leaned over to take the ring back but Adam held it out of reach.
“Never mind, my ass! What the hell is this? You bought a ring? Tristan, you’re not even seeing anyone.”
“That’s what I wanted to tell you.” He scrubbed at the pulse throbbing in his temple. It didn’t help. “I’ve been…seeing someone. And I’m in love with her.”
“What the hell? Why didn’t you tell me?” Outrage and bemusement warred in Adam’s eyes.
Tristan had to look away. “I couldn’t tell you.”
“Why the fuck not?” Adam’s nostrils flared and he sucked in an enormous breath. “Oh. Oh. Oh hell. You’ve been dating someone from the office!”
Tristan wanted to crawl into a little ball.
“Oh hell. After everything you put me through with Kat? After all that talk about your stupid little rule?”
“I know. I know. It is a stupid rule.”
“And now you just…” Adam stilled. He went a little pale around the lips. “It’s not Shannon, is it?”
Tristan blew out a breath and flopped back on the sofa. He pulled a pillow in front of him and mashed it against his chest. “Of course it’s Shannon.”
Silence hummed between them. “Tristan…” Adam’s tone was funny, strangled maybe, as though he wanted to say something but couldn’t. Or wouldn’t.
“What?”
“Shannon’s…” Still strangled. Still clipped.
“Shannon’s what?”
Adam wiped a palm over his face. “Nothing. Shannon’s great. Just great.” He tossed the ring back. “Have you told her?”