Ro touched the back of my neck. “I’ll see you later.”
Then he stalked through a doorway I guessed led to his office. My gaze followed him. God, he filled out that suit so well.
Much to my disappointment, we hadn’t had sex last night. He’d claimed it was doctor’s orders and that I needed to rest. But he’d held me while I slept.
I liked that almost as much as the sex.
Almost.
I wasn’t going to let myself dwell on that worrying thought. Nope, I was going to enjoy the spa, and then make sure I got sex tonight.
“Don’t get attached.”
Tristan’s sharp words made me look up.
He was watching me with sharp eyes.
“Are you warning me off?”
“For your own benefit. I’ve seen many a woman fall for Ro. His looks, his lifestyle, his bank balance. He won’t stay.”
I smiled. “I know. Our personal…thing was unexpected, but it’s separate to our work. My home is in Windward. I know Ro will jet off to his next challenge when he’s done in Colorado. I’m very much small town and he isn’t.”
Tristan studied me. “You’re smarter than I guessed.”
“I might be from a small town, Banks, but don’t underestimate me. Now, I have a spa appointment to enjoy.”
He gave me a faint smile. “Why do I get the feeling you’re going to interrogate the staff and take notes?”
“Because I will.” I strode out.
But my smile was gone as I headed to the elevator. Everything I said was true…except for the pesky feelings boiling up inside me.
All of them for Ambrose Langston.
No. I was smart. And I’d stay smart.
I knew how much broken hearts hurt, and I wasn’t risking mine again.
* * *
I felt so good.
I floated towards Ro’s office. In between my amazing massage and delightful facial, I’d gotten a message from Ro that he’d needed to work through lunch. Instead, I’d had a Waldorf salad in the spa.
Now, several hours later, I’d been polished and massaged to within an inch of my life. I felt so relaxed.
My therapist, Jules, was good with her hands. Then I’d spent time with the spa manager, Nicola. She’d been happy to answer all my questions. My brain was buzzing with ideas.
I knocked on the door of Ro’s office and entered. I heard his deep voice. He was on the phone at the sleek desk and waved me in.
Sorry, he mouthed.
I noted that he looked tense, with lines bracketing his mouth. There was a plate with what must’ve been his lunch on the corner of his desk, but it looked like he’d barely touched it.
I knew the signs. A headache was threatening.
He worked so damn hard. I sat on the corner of the desk, near him, and he gripped my knee.