“He was too elegant—too classy, even—for Katie. He wanted someone tame and predictable. Manageable.”
“Now, where’s the fun in that?” Tristan quietly challenged.
Liv laughed softly. “Where, indeed?”
Tristan leaned in and said, “Bright yellow string bikinis are a hell of a lot sexier than starched white tennis skirts.”
“I don’t play tennis.”
“Precisely.”
“Hmm,” she playfully murmured. “Sounds as though you’re hitting on me.”
“Impossible not to.”
She sipped some more, than asked, “Even though you likely know I was with Nate a couple of days ago?”
“Fallon’s boutique. He told me.”
“You’re right about her, Dev, and Morgan. It is a complex situation.” Liv’s expression turned earnest yet contemplative as she added, “I was thinking about you when I was with Nate. About both of you.”
“Then there’s still a conversation to have.”
“Yes.”
“In private.”
“Yes.”
Tristan’s groin tightened. Oh, the things he wanted to do with her—to her—in private.
For the moment, though, guests continued to mill about. And more champagne headed their way. He deposited their empties on a passing silver tray and lifted two fresh ones from another.
He told her, “I believe Nate is out on deck networking. I’ll save the grand tour for when he’s free.”
“Go about your business. I can entertain myself with this crowd.”
“Entertain me, instead.” He held his arm out for her, and she linked hers with his. He pulled her close. “You are an absolute knockout.”
“So charming. I’m making a lot of women jealous this evening, being the recipient of your unwavering attention.”
“Hardly.”
Gazing up at him, Liv said, “You clearly don’t see what I see.”
“I’ve got tunnel vision going on. Nothing but you seems to register.”
“I like this flirtatious side of you, Tristan,” she mused, and took another drink. “Very sexy and seductive.”
“Do you want me to seduce you, Liv?”
Her smile was a bewitching one, laced with invitation. “It would save me from having to be the instigator again. Though I truly couldn’t help myself with the two of you when we were in Paris. And I have already confessed to Nate that it wasn’t the mimosas that spurred me on.”
Tristan fought a strangled groan over mental images of Liv’s fingers toying with the buttons on his dress shirt as she’d brazenly told him and Nate she wanted them. Naked. Hard. Inside her . . .
Tristan had been stunned, no denying it. More than he should have been, perhaps, because she’d started flirting with them toward the end of senior year when the workouts had begun paying off. And then, when they’d arrived in Paris for brunch, it’d seemed she couldn’t keep her eyes off them—even before the cocktails had kicked in.
He’d never expected Liv to be into them like that. He’d anticipated her being bold and daring, sure. But lusting after him and Nate? That had been a shocker. Not to mention a huge turn-on.