VICTORIA STOOD BY THE bar, sipping a glass of sparkling juice, and talking to Tristan. The smile that threatened to make her cheeks ache an hour ago, came easily now. It helped that they were done working the room, but his company was the main cause.

“I hear you’re spreading my name around this room like grease.” Scott McAllister’s voice came from behind her.

She smiled at the good-natured tone, as he moved into sight. “I am. I figured you wouldn’t mind the publicity.”

“Never do. I’m glad to see you here tonight.” He shook her hand, then turned to Tristan and did the same. “Good to see you, man.”

“You too.” Tristan’s tone was warm and friendly. A sharp contrast to the act he’d put on with everyone else.

“How goes things?” Scott asked her. He’d been one of the few donors to let her in the door when she called.

She was grateful she’d started with him, because his yes kept her trudging through a list of nos. She nodded at Tristan. “I’m trying to convince him to give me a rec center. Maybe if he hears from your lips how generous you’ve been, he’ll take it more seriously.”

“Donations aren’t a competition.” Tristan’s denial ended on a snort-laugh that spread to all three of them.

She knew as well as anyone, half the reason these people would sign over a check was to be able to tell their friends they did. It ate at her that their reasons weren’t sincere. In the end, the money all went to a good cause, though. She had to remember that.

Scott made a tsk sound and shook his head. “I’m a little disappointed you’re with a man who won’t even buy you a building. You’re selling yourself short.”

Victoria expected Tristan’s canned we’re just friends retort. She’d heard it so many times tonight it was stuck on a loop in her head.

“I’m hoping my wit and charm keep her around long enough for me to make her a better offer.” Tristan slipped his arm around her waist, and rested his hand on her hip.

That was much better than denial. She didn’t want to read anything into it, but couldn’t help but wonder if there was something more to the gesture than a friendly touch.

“Good luck with that. You’re going to need it,” Scott said. “Surprised to see you in this den of wolves.”

“I wouldn’t do it for anyone but Victoria.”

Her cheeks heated at the words. It was true, he’d only come because she asked, but the phrasing... Don’t assume.

Right.

“Speaking of surprised to see you, I can’t believe you’re here without Kenzie.” Tristan kept talking, completely unaware of the chaos he was causing in her thoughts.

Good. That meant the focus wasn’t on her.

Scott twisted his mouth in irritation. “Sitter cancelled last minute, so she had to stay with Mac. I offered, but she insisted we have a management presence here.”

“That sucks.” Tristan’s emphatic response caught Victoria off-guard. “I’d take a night with the kid any day.”

“She’s obsessed with Moana right now. You might not feel that way after you’d heard it five hundred times.” Scott didn’t sound irritated, despite the words.

Tristan laughed. “You can’t convince me that a three-year-old’s movie obsession is more repetitive than these people.”

Scott turned back to Victoria. “Kenzie’s got a rule that I have to do at least one bullshit, elbow rubbing function a year. Says it looks good in the affluent community.”

“Kenzie’s right,” Victoria said.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t make it any more fun.” Scott rolled his eyes when someone called his name. “Catch you two around.” He turned away to greet the person looking for him.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Tristan’s abrupt question startled her.

She did, but she didn’t. The atmosphere wore on her, but leaving meant going home. Putting an end to this not-date.

“Unless there’s someone else you’d like to meet?” Tristan spoke when she didn’t reply.

“No. Thank you though. For everything tonight.” Might as well get this bit over with. “Yeah, let’s take off.”

He kept contact with her in some way, an arm around her waist, fingers intertwined with hers, or arms brushing, as they waited for the valet to pull his car around.

As they left the country club, she relaxed against her seat. “Why didn’t you tell Scott we were just friends?” The question popped out before she could consider what it implied.

Tristan kept his gaze on the road. “Did you know he played football in high school?”

The change in subject was so distinct, it glared brighter than the headlights of oncoming traffic. She shouldn’t have asked her question in the first place, though, so she’d let it drop. “Seriously? Mr. Genius Game Developer?”

“Almost as odd as a snowboarder selling commercial real estate.” Tristan glanced at her long enough to wink.

“That’s fair. Was he as good at his sport as you were at yours?”

“He sucked. Worst quarterback in the region, and I’m not being cruel. He’ll tell you the same thing. Their school didn’t win a game for three years.”

“Years?” She was incredulous. “They didn’t kick him off the team?”

He shifted gears, then rested his hand on her leg. A jolt lingered under skin at the touch, and the contact felt natural.

“His dad not only had money, but had been the school’s star QB in their day. No one was going to tell him no. He hated it, though. He’ll tell you that, too.”

Victoria didn’t have a response to that. She knew what it was like to be shoehorned into a role as a young-adult, and not have a way out.

“And I didn’t tell him because...” Tristan sighed. “I don’t know. I guess with him pretenses aren’t important. He’s too genuine for that.”

She was going to ask Tristan what that meant, but if he avoided the question, it might hurt more than if he told her Nothing.

She didn’t want to read too much into his words, or the physical contact. No one except her therapist knew, Tristan was the man who’d stayed in her thoughts for the last few years. Not Mischa.

Knowing Tristan looked down on her for her behavior back then hurt, but she needed to remember that reality.

Was it really such a big deal to enjoy what was on the surface, though? The touches. The smiles. Even if it was only for tonight.

Her mood slipped as they neared her building.

“You all right?” Tristan asked.

Yes. No. I’m all sorts of fucked-up and confused right now. “I’m fine.”

He parked in one of the spots on the street. “Are you sure?”

“Do you want to come up for a drink?” She spit the question out before she could consider it or take it back.

“You don’t drink. And you don’t have to ply me with alcohol to get me to drop my defenses. Not right now.”

It was a simple admission, but it seared her from the inside out. “No?” She kept her tone playful. “You’re not just pretending to enjoy my company for professional reasons?”

“I’m not pretending at all. And it’s not just because you look stunning.” He shifted in his seat to face her.

She leaned in on the armrest, pressing her arms together to enhance her cleavage. “I do look pretty incredible. We were good in there. My wit, your charm...”

“It didn’t escape you that half the men in there were thinking about taking you out of that dress.” He said it as a statement, not a question. “The other half are gay. Trust me. I know these people.”

“You’re a pig.” She pushed open the door. It was easier to brush off his comments with a canned response. Blame their actions on his ability to observe, rather than linger on how much of a gentleman he’d been this evening.

“I’m honest. And also a pig.”

“And avoiding my question,” she teased. “Coming up or not? This isn’t an innuendo thing. I’d like your company for a couple more hours, if I can.”

He stepped from the car and joined her. “That sounds nice.”

He stood close on the elevator ride up, occasionally trailing his fingers over hers. That was fine with Victoria.

That was something she appreciated about him—he wasn’t here because she was the TV girl-next-door he’d fantasized about before she was legal. He wasn’t here to kiss her ass. She knew where they stood. After tonight, as far apart as possible.

Might as well enjoy this spell while it lasted.

She unlocked the front door and let them in. “Have a seat. I’m going to change into something more comfortable.”

He raised his brows. He had a scary knack for conveying a lot of meaning with that one look.

Heat flooded her cheeks when she realized what she’d said. “Not like that, perv. I just don’t want to lounge around in an evening gown.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were thinking it.” God, she hoped he was thinking it, because she was drifting toward daydreams of what he looked like under the suit, and what it would feel like to brush her lips over his chest.

He shrugged. “I think a lot of things. Go change, I’ll be here.”

An unfamiliar but pleasant giddiness wove inside her as she walked toward her room. It was stupid of her to think this was more than it looked on the surface, but tonight brought back that one question she always hated herself for thinking. What if I’d started off with the other guy back then?

She didn’t though. It was like her therapist said—the past, even the bad bits, made her who she was today. She liked who she was, even if she had a handful of regrets.

And tonight wasn’t about the past, so there was no reason to linger in it.

A wicked impulse filled her, to leave the door open, to see if he’d try and peek. It was also a childish thought. He was grown man. In her room, she shut the door and stripped out of her dress. She draped the satin over the back of a chair, smoothing a hand along the fabric. Pleasant snippets of the night danced in her head.

Those were memories she’d have for a while.

She yanked on a long-sleeved shirt and a pair of jeans, and pulled her hair into a loose ponytail on top of her head. She never went out in public like this. Anything that resembled what she wore as Vicky Next Door was off limits when people were watching. She didn’t have to make any more impressions tonight. It was a liberating feeling.

When she emerged back into the living room, she found Tristan on the balcony. The sliding glass door was open a crack, and the noise from the freeway filtered into the room. He was facing the city, which gave her the perfect excuse to enjoy the view. Admiring him from behind was at least as good as doing so from the front.

Victoria didn’t believe in fairy tales—not after acting across from so many princesses, and being one herself for a while. If she did, she wouldn’t mind test driving this Prince Charming for a little while, before he found his happily-ever-after.

She tucked the thought aside, but not too far out of reach.

When she slid the glass open and joined in, he turned away from the city. His eyes grew wide. Everywhere he trailed his gaze over her, left goosebumps. He’d looked at her like this at the country club, but she’d been in an evening gown meant to show off her assets. Now she was just a frump.

“Wow,” he said.

She ducked her head, unable to ignore the sudden shyness. “I don’t know what to do with a statement like that.”

“I was thinking you look more stunning now than you did before you changed.”

Every time he flirted, her confusion grew. She liked the words though. “Are you one of those men you were talking about?”

“You mean was I fantasizing about stripping you out of your gown? The moment you opened the door tonight, I wished you were anyone but you.”

The words twisted in her gut, and she couldn’t hide her frown. “That’s not nice.” She could have come up with a smarter response, but his words caught her off-guard.

“Remember I said I was a pig? I’m also a dick. I’m not trying to be cruel though.” His voice was soft, and his attention never left her face.

The body language clashed with the words, and her brain struggled to determine which was real. “Why would I need to be someone else?” The moment she asked, she knew the answer, but she needed to hear him say it.

“You’re my best friend’s ex.”

There it was. The one thing he would always and forever hold over her head. “He’s moved on,” Victoria said. “And so have I,” she added quickly.

You nearly destroyed him. That was what she expected Tristan to say next. The same line he always used. The one that devoured her from the inside-out, because she’d learned to shrug off a lot of judgement, but his still hurt.

“Decorum dictates if sides need to be taken, I take his.”

“There are no sides anymore. He’s got a fiancée, I’m not that confused little girl anymore.” That was part lie. She was most certainly perplexed tonight.

“I see that.” He stepped closer, and her breath caught.

The hint of his cologne and warmth of his body short-circuited more of her thoughts. “Not that I’m trying to talk you into anything.” What was she saying? Anything wasn’t even part of the conversation.

He drew his fingers along her cheek so lightly it might have been the fall breeze caressing her face. “No? That’s a shame.”

“Why?” The word caught in her suddenly-dry throat. She refused to be flustered and timid. Not for anyone, especially Tristan.

“Because if we were anyone else—me too, not just you—I’d pin you to the wall right now, and find out if you really taste like peaches and sparkling grape juice.” His voice had dropped an octave, and his stare threatened to drill into her soul.

She grabbed for the dwindling pool of arrogance that she’d drawn from all night, and pressed closer. Near enough she felt his hard length through his trousers, as it dug into her hip. She was responsible for that. The realization was enough to bolster her. “In that case, let’s be other people for the night.”

“Sold.” The word glided across her lips a skipped-heartbeat before his mouth did.

A whimper slipped from her throat, earning her a deliciously terrifying smirk.

“What do I have to do,” he trailed a finger along her jaw to her chin, then lifted her head, forcing her gaze to his, “to hear more sounds like that?”

She had no idea. She didn’t have a problem being vocal—moaning, screaming—but she’d never been a whimper or plead kind of girl. Not that he said anything about begging. Though if he demanded it... The thought she refused to finish traveled lower to throb between her legs. “I can think of a good way to find out.”

His lips traveled along her neck, her jaw, her throat, and any exposed skin. Each touch was feather-light, but she couldn’t call it gentle. There was anticipation behind it, like a barely-controlled force, waiting to be loosed. It tingled through her, tightening in her nipples and stealing her breath.

“The view up here is stunning.” When he spoke, his lips pressed against the hollow at the base of her throat. Anticipation shuddered through her.

She had no idea where the tangent was going. She didn’t care, if he kept doing what he was doing. “It’s pretty decent.”

“Ever wonder if the neighbors are watching?” He glided his palms under her shirt, and slid up her bare back.

“I got enough of people watching me when I was younger.” Her response came without thought, but he had a point. The light from her condo spilled out behind them, so if anyone looked up, she and Tristan would be on display. She expected the thought to bother her, but it added a new layer of desire. “Now that you mention it...”

He slid his palms to her torso, cupping her breasts and kneading gently. The soft pressure made her gasp. He pushed her shirt up, and lowered his head to suck on one nipple. Any wandering notions of being observed slid to the back of her mind, as she sank into the teasing sensation of his tongue and then his teeth scraping across tender skin.

Need made her squeeze her legs together, and she couldn’t ignore the pulse below her waist. She wanted to tangle her fingers in his hair and hold him there, or push him lower, or surrender and let him do whatever he would.

He pulled away, and cool air brushed her damp skin, making her moan. Tristan nibbled her bottom lip. “Part of me desperately wanted to fuck you in front of that entire room tonight.”

“Mark your territory, and remind them I was with you?” That should bother her. Shouldn’t it?

He trailed his fingers under her waistband, then slid along her stomach to undo her jeans. She felt the throb all the way to her core. He dipped under her panties, and she groaned at the thought of what came next.

“No.” He teased her folds, brushing the skin but not dipping between. “To remind them you aren’t theirs. You only belong to you.”

“That’s convoluted, but I like the sentiment.” She also liked the idea of putting those smug bastards in their place. Shocking their sense of propriety. Stripping away the pretenses and being herself. Fuck their opinions.

She covered Tristan’s hand, and guided him toward her clit. Playing was one thing, but she was close to bursting. A soft cry tore from her chest when he brushed the button.

“There’s another one of those sounds.” He traced circles around her sex, gaze fixed on her face. “As for the other bit of the conversation, there’s a tiny part of me that likes the idea of having an audience.”

Because they were both performers in their own way. Growing up in front of the cameras and judges. “Never really got over the desire to put on a show?”

“This isn’t the same.”

“No, it’s not.” This was intimate. Any other words she had vanished when he applied more pressure. Circling and tracing and coaxing her. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, lost in his touch. Orgasm flowed forward, ebbing each time he eased up. She ground into his hand, needing release.

She came hard, gripping his wrist, holding him in place, and gasping until she was spent. She wilted away from his touch.

Before she could catch her breath, he gripped her hips and pulled her in for a kiss. Whatever control was there before had snapped. He crushed his mouth to hers, swallowing any noises she made. He held her close, his erection digging into her stomach, but it wasn’t close enough. She needed more of this. More of him.

He broke away enough to drag a thumb across her bottom lip. The simple gesture tingled with everything else.

“God, Vicky. I need to fuck you.”

She’d never heard her name said that way, but the gravel in his voice would be seared into her memory for a long time. She didn’t have any words, so she kissed him back, returning the intensity.

He guided her inside, not bothering with closing the door, and pressed her back to the closest wall. Hands and mouths were everywhere, in a frantic dance. He shoved her jeans and panties to the floor. She stroked him through his slacks. His thick girth against her palm made her opening clench at the idea of being stretched and penetrated.

He fumbled in his back pocket while she undid his belt and slacks. He withdrew his wallet, opened it, and dropped it. “Fuck.” He rested his forehead on the wall next to her head.

“Don’t make me pout.” She kept the teasing in her voice despite a nudge of doubt.

“No condoms. Unless you have any.”

She shook her head. She wasn’t sexually active enough to think about it. “I’m on birth control. Are you clean?”

“Yes, but—”

“But problem solved.” Victoria didn’t care what his protest was. She freed him from his boxers, and he jerked against her hand when she stroked his shaft.

He caught her bottom lip between his teeth. “I knew you were sexy, but fuck, Vicky.” He glided his hands down her back and over her ass.

When he lifted her, she let out a squeak of surprise. She reacted quickly, wrapping her legs around his waist. She draped her arms over his shoulders, and cried out when he thrust inside her. Apparently fucking standing up was actually possible, and she liked the reminder he was as built as he looked.

At this angle, he hit something deep every time he slid inside her. Her back pounded into the wall, and her skin and muscles burned from exertion. It was intoxicating.

He pounded in short, hard strokes, pushing her toward orgasm again without warning. She clenched around him when she came, squeezing and feeling his thickness resist.

His grunts, telling her he was close too, drew out her climax. He spilled inside her, hammering a little longer before slowing to a stop.

He held her there a moment, as if frozen in time, then slid out of her. They all-but melted to the floor in a tangle of limbs.

She nestled against his chest, listening to his heart hammer against his ribs. The sound mingled with them catching their breath.

“I think we’re wrinkling your tux,” she teased.

“Wrinkling, staining, it doesn’t matter.”

She wasn’t sure how long they sat there. Enough time passed that the cool breeze from outside had kissed away the sheen of exertion, leaving a chill on her skin. She didn’t mind. Being wrapped up in Tristan chased it away.

“I should go.” The reluctance in his voice matched what she felt.

She knew it was for the best though. There were no illusions this was anything but a one-night thing. She untangled herself. “You should.”

He stood, bracing himself against the wall for a moment, to get his balance. She couldn’t help her satisfaction that she wasn’t the only one this left weak in the legs. Then again, his legs did most of the work. He helped her to her feet.

Tristan kissed her on the cheek. After what they’d just shared, it was a deceptively sweet gesture. “I had an incredible night,” he said. “Thank you for the invitation.”

“Thank you for accepting.”

“After tonight, we go back to the way we were.”

She wasn’t sure if he was asking or stating. Either way, hearing the reality spoken aloud gnawed at her. She nodded.

“This is just between us?” His voice cracked on the question.

She swallowed, and nodded again. “Just between us.” At least she kept her composure, despite the storm churning inside. Always something to be grateful for.