Twisting, I managed to get my rear end into my chair—it was a much better option than falling on the floor.

“Stella.” Tristan was in front of me. “Are you okay?”

A worried frown plowed across his brow.

I pressed my hand to my chest. “Yes. Fine.” I gestured toward my shoe. “My heel has broken.”

“Your heel?”

In a flash, he was on his knees in front of me. He set one hand on my shin, his fingers pressing against my stockings, and with the other, gently removed my shoe. He frowned at the high heel which was hanging off, then set the whole thing aside.

“Did you hurt yourself?” he asked, smoothing his hand to my ankle and cupping the sole of my foot.

A tremble of awareness tickled up my leg. His touch was so delicate, so caring. “No. I don’t think so.”

He swept his thumb over the curve just above my toes, left to right, then back again. “Sexy as these shoes are, you really shouldn’t put yourself in danger.”

I giggled. It was a silly burst of noise from my chest. “I don’t think they’re too perilous.”

“You could have hurt yourself.”

He was still caressing my foot. Yes, that’s what it was, a caress. It was clear nothing was damaged.

“Tristan,” I said quietly and curled my fingers around the arms of the chair.

He didn’t reply. Instead he kept his gaze on mine. With his chin titled, he ran his left hand up my calf, settling it behind my knee.

My breath hitched—he was all I could see, feel, think about…

Damn, why does he have to be so sexy?

His fingers were beneath the hem of my skirt. He skimmed them higher so they were resting on my lower thigh. My skirt wrinkled around his knuckles.

I wanted him to feel higher, discover the pretty lace trim at the top of the stockings. Feel the heat of my skin, the soft satin underwear.

He released my foot and rose so his face was level with mine.

His pupils were huge, his lips so kissable. He was breathing as fast as me.

“Stella,” he whispered.

“Yes?” Heat from his body poured onto my chest, radiating through the fabric of my blouse. I could smell him, my hands itched to feel him.

“I’m going to apologize in advance for this … but I can’t help myself.”

He ran his hand around the back of my neck, his fingers slotting into my hair, and pulled me closer. He pressed his lips against mine, his tongue sweeping into my mouth as he dragged me to him.

I released a groan of longing. He tasted exactly how I’d imagined—dark heat and man, a hint of coffee.

Releasing my grip on the chair, I grasped his shoulders. Beneath his cotton shirt was hard muscle. Damn, why was that shirt in the way?

He moaned into my mouth as he stroked over the top of my stockings, tracing the lace with his fingertips.

He kissed with the same skill and intensity as he approached his work. I surrendered to it. Allowed him to whisk me up into a heady soup of lust.

Could we? Here?

Fuck.

What am I doing?

I tore my lips from his.

He didn’t stop kissing me and traveled his lips over my cheek to my neck.

“Tristan.”

“Mmm, Stella. You’re so fucking sexy. You’ve got me crazy for you. All week … how you look, talk, hell the way you walk…”

“No…” What about Andre? “But.”

“No, buts. Please, no buts.” He cupped my cheek and looked into my eyes.

“I’m sorry.” I pushed at his shoulders and tore my gaze from his. “I can’t.”

He tugged his hand free of my skirt and stood, releasing me. A flash of disappointment went over his face and I couldn’t help noticing a large bulge behind his zipper.

“Forgive me.” I stood, and in a strange, limping gate, rushed to the ladies’ restroom. I pushed through the door, then stood at the sink, staring into the mirror at my smudged lipstick.

My mind was swimming. What the hell was going on with me? I was a one-man woman. I never cheated. I didn’t two-time. That wasn’t who I was.

But Andre and I were hardly in a relationship. We’d had a night of fun. We were going for lunch tomorrow.

It was the start of something.

But I wanted to start something with Tristan too.

I liked him, more than liked him. I wanted him. I wanted his body, I wanted his mind, I wanted the special smiles that he seemed to save just for me.

“Stella. Please, come out.”

I glanced at the door. Tristan had opened it a fraction, though I couldn’t see him and he couldn’t see me because it opened in the opposite direction.

I didn’t answer.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s not your fault.” I reached for a tissue and tidied my smudged lipstick.

“Clearly it is. Please, come out here and let’s talk this through. I can explain.”

“Explain?”

“Yes.”

I ran the cold water and put my wrists under the flow. It was as if a fire were burning inside of me.

“I promise you, Stella, there really is no reason to be so upset.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do.”

I turned off the water. He knew nothing.

“Please … otherwise I’ll come in there and get you.”

I didn’t doubt it.

I went to the door. As I reached it, my broken shoe emerged around the small opening. The heel appeared reattached.

“I fixed it.”

“That was quick.”

“I’m known for efficiency.”

Of course he is.

I took it and, with one palm placed on the wall, slipped the shoe back on.

“It probably won’t hold for long. But it will get you home,” he said.

I opened the door fully.

Tristan had one hand against the frame, his elbow locked. When he saw me, he released it and straightened.

“Thank you.” I stepped past him. “For fixing my shoe.”

“Stella, let me explain.” He gripped my upper arm and spun me to him, not roughly but not completely gently either.

My breath hitched as I looked into his earnest face.

“There is nothing to explain, Tristan. I like you, really I do…” And yes, given the chance I’d roll into bed with him in a heartbeat. He was someone I wanted to get to know better in every sense of the word, much better. “But I’m seeing someone.”

His eyebrows twitched, then he nodded. “I know.”

“How … But…?”

“Andre.” He kind of shrugged then released my arm. “It’s not a big deal.”