The restaurant was situated on the center strip of town, a view of the Rockies lurking above the surrounding low-rise buildings. The façade was beautiful, all shimmering lights draped tastefully around its sign, which read “Wolfe’s Chalet.”

It was an appropriate name. The building itself was made of gigantic, carved logs of cedar, like the house we’d just left. I knew before we’d set foot inside that I’d be greeted by a roaring fire inside, just like the one in Tristan’s cabin.

As I slipped out of the car, I pulled the coat that Tristan had loaned me tight around my body. The mountain air was dry and chilly, threats of the evening’s coming cold already setting in.

The corners of Tristan’s lips ticked upwards as he ushered me inside, but he didn’t say anything until we’d walked through the doors. Immediately, a man in a black suit strode over to greet us.

“Mr. Wolfe,” he said. “So nice to see you. It’s been a while.”

“And you, Mark,” he replied. “My usual table, please.”

I expected the host to take us to a private, secluded corner, but instead he escorted us to a table right at the center of the restaurant. Watchful eyes stared at us from every direction, no doubt curious about Tristan’s latest conquest.

“I’m going to feel a little self-conscious here,” I said nervously. It wasn’t the number of people around us that made me nervous; I’d eaten in crowded restaurants a million times. It was my very formal, very revealing attire. But it didn’t take long to realize that it wasn’t me that they were interested in.

I’d known that Tristan was probably some kind of local celebrity. Hell, he was a celebrity in New York. But whereas at home people largely ignored his presence, here, the crowd looked his way with a sort of quiet reverence that was all but freaking me out.

“You’ll be fine,” he said, pulling my chair out for me. He slipped my coat off my shoulders and handed it to the host. Suddenly I felt naked. I threw myself into my seat, trying not to let my body fold in on itself in a moment of utter shyness.

When Tristan had seated himself, he leaned forward. He was dressed in a charcoal gray suit with a crimson silk tie to match my dress, and he looked amazing. “Don’t worry about the eyes,” he said. “They’re not judging you.”

“I can’t help it. If this were New York, the women wouldn’t just be staring. They’d be whispering to each other about the scandalousness of my dress. It would be bitchy, but at least I’d know what they were thinking. But here, they’re just…staring.”

A strange, knowing smile flashed over Tristan’s lips. “They’re curious,” he said. “That’s all.”

“About what? I’m sure you bring a lot of women here. I don’t see why I should seem interesting to them.”

He shook his head. “A lot of women? Try zero.”

My heart skipped a beat. “Zero? Wait—you’re really saying I’m the first?”

“Yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“So what the hell? Are you telling me you come in here alone?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. I’ve been in here thousands of times on my own. Sometimes with a male friend. But never with a lover.”

Suddenly I was all pride and pomposity. I sat up in my seat, thrust my shoulders back, my chest out. Now I owned this place. Okay, Tristan did. But I was his one and only love interest to ever have graced its environs. That had to count for something.

“Pretty pleased with yourself, aren’t you?” he laughed.

“Sort of, yeah. I mean, this is quite a day for me. So many firsts. I got to ride in a private jet, I got to…well…I got a taste of Tristan Wolfe. He got a taste of me. Now this? I feel pretty special for once.”

“You should feel special all the time, Ariana.”

The words brought a smile to my lips. I felt the brief tease of happiness stroke itself over my heart. Happiness that I knew would fade soon enough.

We ordered steak and wine. Tristan didn’t touch me while we ate, but he stared with a ferocious energy that made me feel as though we were in constant, sensual contact. I didn’t feel him take his eyes off me for a second, and for once I didn’t flinch under his gaze or assume that there was anything wrong with me. I simply enjoyed basking in the glow he cast on my body.

“You have a serious intensity about you, Mr. Wolfe,” I said after a while. “Sometimes I don’t know what to make of it.”

“Make of it that I’m hungry for you,” he murmured, drawing himself close. “This meal is delicious, but truth be told, I can’t wait to get another taste of you.”

I smiled and looked down at the white cloth napkin in my lap. “I don’t think I’ve ever blushed so many times in my life as I have since meeting you,” I said. “I thought I was too much of a cynic to react in such a girly way to any man, but you…you make me ridiculous.”

“I like when you blush. It means that blood is flowing to all the right places.” He leaned even closer. “I imagine, right now, that your nipples are flushed dark pink, and waiting for my lips.”

I wanted to pass out with the thought of him spending more time with my nipples. “You imagine right,” I said. “Other parts of me are stimulated, too.”

“Oh?” His right eyebrow arched upwards.

I nodded. “I almost wish I’d worn panties.”

Tristan reached under the tablecloth and slipped his fingers under the hem of my dress to work their way up my thigh. I pulled my legs apart, inviting him closer.

When he’d found my wetness he let out a moan that might have been just a little too loud for polite company, though no one seemed to swing around and glare. “I’d like to taste you right now,” he whispered.

“I’d like that too,” I whispered in return, my gaze darting around to see if anyone had figured out what we were up to. “But I don’t imagine it would go over so well, even if you do literally own this place.”

“We’ll be back in the car soon enough,” he replied, leaning back and licking his fingers clean, which only made me hornier. He grabbed his napkin and dabbed at his mouth. “Then back to my place. But first, I have something important to ask you: have you considered my offer?”

“Your offer?” I asked. “You mean the deed to the theater?”

He nodded. “I’ve seen your portfolio, your designs. I know your passion for live theater. I’d like you to help me keep that place alive.”

I swallowed a gulp of wine and closed my eyes for a second, asking myself if I was nuts.

“I’ve considered, and I accept,” I told him, opening my eyes again with a quick wince. “Even though I know I might regret it.”

“You won’t,” he told me. “I’m very pleased to hear it. If it’s all right with you, I’ll let the cast and crew know. They’ll be overjoyed to hear that they will keep their jobs—at least some of them.”

“Yes, please let them know,” I told him. If no other good came of this agreement of ours, then at least I’d make a lot of actors and crew members very happy. My decision would ensure employment for them for years to come.

Tristan signaled a waiter over. “Champagne,” he said, “and two glasses. We have something to celebrate.”

He took my hand as the man disappeared and kissed it. As the sensation of his lips on my flesh shimmered through my body, another jolt of pure happiness filled my chest.

Happiness, however, has a way of coming to a crashing halt.

A few seconds later, the same waiter strode over again and leaned down to whisper something in Tristan’s ear. He had no champagne in hand. No glasses. Nothing, in fact, but a slightly terrified look on his face.

“What? Right now?” Tristan asked him, pulling back, and the guy nodded.

“Where are they?” Tristan added.

The man whispered something again. I couldn’t make anything out; all I could see was the reaction in my companion’s eyes.

Anger. Concern. Pain.

Nothing good.

“What is it?” I asked. “What’s happening?”

“Fucking hell,” Tristan shot out loudly enough that everyone around us could hear it. He slammed the cloth napkin that had been sitting on his lap onto the table. “I should never have brought you here, Ariana. I should never have taken you out of New York. You need to leave.” He pulled his cell phone out of the inner pocket of his jacket. “There’s something I have to do. Kara will drive you back to the cabin. When you get there, under no circumstances do I want you to go outside, not even to go for a walk.”

“What? That’s silly. Besides, Kara’s miles away,” I protested. “Can’t you…”

But the look on Tristan’s face told me everything I needed to know. “She’s close by,” he said. “By the time you put your coat on, she’ll be outside waiting for you. I’m very sorry, Ariana, but there’s something I need to do that can’t wait. Just, please—do as I ask.”

“Okay, then. Will I see you later?” I asked, trying to hold back the tears that were trying so hard to rim my eyes.

“I hope so.”

Well, that was…vague.

With that, he rose to his feet and gestured for the host to bring my coat to me. When I had it on, I headed to the front door, highly skeptical that Kara could possibly show up anytime soon. But sure enough, Tristan’s Land Rover pulled up to the curb a few seconds later. My driver reached over and pushed the passenger door open for me.

“Get in, Ariana,” she said, her tone curt.

I obeyed, though I wasn’t remotely happy about it. None of this was making sense to me. Tristan’s sudden mood change, whatever emergency was pulling him away. What could possibly have happened in the mountains that would require his attention? And why the fuck couldn’t he tell me about it?

“Can you tell me what’s going on?” I asked, looking over at the beautiful, tall woman behind the wheel who always seemed to step into my life at the worst moments.

She shook her head. “No. I can’t. I’m sorry.”

Something in her body language told me she was worried. Tense. Afraid. Just as Tristan had been.

“Is Tristan in danger?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said. “But Mr. Wolfe is often in danger. He always comes out of it all right, so you don’t need to worry too much about him. It’s the others that you need to worry about.”

“The…others?” I asked. “What others?”

But she didn’t speak again.

When we’d arrived back at the house, I slipped into my bedroom, closed the door and threw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. I didn’t bother with a bra; what was the point? I had a bad feeling that if I actually saw Tristan again that night, it would be damn near morning. Whatever craziness he was up to, it wasn’t something that was going to resolve itself quickly.

I walked out onto the balcony that housed the large hot tub and looked out over the silhouetted mountains on the horizon. I wanted to feel happy, to feel complete, like I’d managed earlier.

But my joy was long gone.

With a dash of heartbreak, it hit me that I missed him already. I missed his presence, the promise of his touch. I missed the joy in his eyes—the joy that had been shot down the moment the waiter had come by with ugly news.

It frightened me to realize how much I wanted him with me. How much I’d come to need him.

I hadn’t missed any person since my sister’s death. Hadn’t felt a hole in my heart like this in years. I’d numbed myself for so long that I didn’t know what to do with the feeling of desire that built constantly around my lover. Didn’t know how to fight off the attraction, to keep it at bay.

I wasn’t even sure I wanted to.

But something told me I should brace myself for the worst.

I headed back inside, sealed the doors, plopped down on the soft couch on one side of the room, and turned the TV on. Some home renovation show sprang to life and I stared at it, registering nothing of what its perky host was saying. I felt wretched, trapped in a house in the middle of the mountains with a mysterious woman who probably didn’t want me there.

My naughty getaway had turned into a self-pity fest for one.