Secret Moves(20)

*******



"Wow, nice place you have here."

"Thanks. Feel free to look around," Trey said as he watched Kris inspect his apartment. He was still feeling unsettled at the fact that he took her there. He had strict rules about whom he invited to his home. So strict, in fact, that apart from his sister, his grandmother, and his mother, no other female had stepped foot in his place since he bought it two years ago.

When his mother had ooh'd and ahh'd over it when he first took her there, he'd made Rule Number One—his home was off-limits for his sexcapades.

"Oh, Trey, this is just simply marvellous," his mum had said during her first visit. "I'll bet you'll have a hard time getting women to leave once you bring them here—what with your pretty face and that breathtaking view."

The last thing he wanted was another gold-digger crashing through his door. The shock and embarrassment of being jilted at the altar by an angel-faced opportunist was enough to make him swear never to invest his emotions in another girl ever again. That was why his apartment was closed-off to women, apart from family, although he was now prepared to make exceptions for a handful of select friends, like his best friends' girlfriends.

He rubbed his jaw with his hand. He guessed he considered Kris one of his select female friends, then. What else could have prompted him to invite her to his sanctuary? He usually had sex with girls in their homes or, at times, in hotels.

But it didn't feel right to do that to Kris. Kane and Jasmine's place wasn't her house and a hotel just seemed too…seedy, even if it was five-star. Kris wasn't someone he'd just picked up at a club.

"You know," Kris said as she stood gazing out the floor-to-ceiling glass window of his living room, "this is my favourite view in all Australia. There's something so soothing, yet vibrant about Sydney Harbour. I have a panoramic print of it hanging on my wall at home. When I'm stressed, I'll stare at it and pretend I'm on a Sydney holiday away from my problems."

"Really? Well, right now you have the real thing," he said, his lips curling into a smile.

She turned around to face him, her face incandescent with…happiness? Contentment? Peace?

Whatever it was, it took his breath away.

"Well, shall we start with your lessons, Mr. Andrews?" she asked, switching gears.

"We just had dinner," he said in laughing protest. "Shouldn't we sit around for a few minutes first?"

"You're not trying to get out of it, are you?" she asked sternly, hands on hips, although he could see she was trying to cover up a smile.

"No! I'm still very much your keen and committed student."

"Good. 'Cause if you're not, you know what will happen."

"I know, I know. I, Trey Andrews, will have to dance solo with a hundred strangers watching and laughing at me."

Kris shook her head in censure and stepped closer to him. "Seriously, Trey. You. Are. Not. That. Bad," she said, poking a finger at his chest. "It's just your ego, you know. You're probably just scared you won't look cool and that the women would get turned off by your dancing."

"How did you know that? Did Dylan tell you?"

Her eyes widened. "Really? I hit the nail on the head? Well, from experience, most people hate dancing because they don't want to look like fools. In reality, as long as you're having fun, no one really cares."

"The truth is, I get more girls sitting on my ass than shaking it," he said.

Kris narrowed her eyes at him. "Oh, I see." After a brief pause, she walked toward the lounge facing the view outside and sat there. "You're right, let's sit for a while. Give our tummies some time to digest our food, first."

"Okay. I'll pour us some wine," he said, frowning.

Kris' expression made him think he'd said something wrong.





CHAPTER EIGHT





Kris slumped on the sofa as Trey headed to his kitchen. She inhaled deeply before slowly letting it out, as she tried to make sense of her emotions.

Why did it hurt when Trey so casually mentioned not wanting to dance because he got more girls just sitting around? She could see how that happened, too. The last time they were at a club, the redhead and another girl had approached him in a span of no more than thirty minutes since they'd arrived there.

She tapped her foot, a habit she had when she wanted to distract herself from unwanted thoughts.

Damn it. She was jealous.

Damn it, damn it, damn it.

Come fucking on, Kristen McCann. What were you expecting?

She chewed her bottom lip and forced herself to pay attention to the vista—the one that always calmed her. Like Trey said, right now she was staring at the real thing and not some big picture on her bedroom wall.