Kristie Cook - Promise

"So, I was thinking…," he started to say as we gazed over the beach.

"Uh-oh," I teased. "That can be dangerous, you know."

"Hmm…I'll try not to hurt myself."

I smiled at the thought of this genius hurting himself because he was thinking too hard and skimmed my lips across his cheek.

"You're trying to distract me," he murmured.

"Maybe."

"Seriously…I've been thinking about what to get you for Christmas."

"Ah. It's less than a week away, you know. You should have started thinking a long time ago."

"I did, as soon as I realized you and Sophia celebrate Christmas. I think I have the perfect gift, but I want to know what you want, just to be sure."

"I have what I want right here." I ran my lips over his cheek again.

"Hmph. I'd like to give you something you can keep with you to remind you of me when I'm not around."

"Like I can ever forget you." I kissed his ear and he sighed. "Well, before you do hurt yourself over this, I need to tell you the house rules. We only give gifts to each other that have significant meaning. So they can only be something we, ourselves, love dearly and are willing to give to the other, or something we've created with thought and love. Does that make it easier?"

"Hmm…then, yes, it's perfect." He relaxed. "Any other rules I need to know about?"

I told him the traditions Mom started when I was young.

"Huh. That's interesting. I thought Christmas was about Santa Claus and presents and watching football on TV."

I chuckled. "Not the way we do it. So, you game?"

"Definitely. It sounds…fun."

I kissed his cheek again and then brushed my lips down along his jaw line and back up to his ear.

"Thank you for today," I whispered. "I needed it."

"It's not nearly over. I'm taking you someplace special for dinner."

"Oh," I said, stiffening. "I should get home to change then."

"No, not necessary. You're fine…well, maybe overdressed." He smiled.

I furrowed my brows. I wore a long-sleeve cotton shirt and jeans. How special can this place be? When we returned to the Cape, he didn't take me home. We traveled on unfamiliar streets lined with royal palms and obnoxiously huge houses with canals in their backyards. I hadn't been in this part of town, so I had no idea where we headed. We came to the end of one of these streets and I knew the beach and the Gulf spread beyond the other side of the foliage lining the dead-end. He pulled into a wide, private driveway leading to a large, concrete-and-glass structure overlooking the water.

"This looks fancy. You said I was over dressed," I whispered when he cut the engine to the bike.

He chuckled. "This is my house, silly."

My mouth dropped. He'd never brought me to his house; we'd never had any reason to come here. I'd imagined he lived in a small, bachelor-pad type of place…like where a twenty-year-old college kid would sleep and shower because he was never home for anything else anyway.

The entire lower level appeared to be nothing but garage from the outside, with four full-size overhead doors. Tristan poked some buttons on a keypad by one of the doors. The door opened as he came back to the bike and started it up. We pulled into the garage and parked next to the crotch-rocket.

"Holy crap, Tristan." I giggled, nearly at a loss for words as I looked around. "This is… outrageous ."

"I told you I like toys." He laughed and closed the garage door while I walked around, admiring the "toys."

One side of the garage housed a speed boat, a Waverunner and other water sports equipment. On the other side, besides the two motorcycles, were a big, metallic-blue pick-up truck, a shiny black Mercedes convertible and a hot red Ferrari Spider—which I only knew after caressing my hand over the shiny emblem.

"You don't even use these…do you?" I'd never seen them before.

"Not so much. I prefer feeling the freedom on the bikes. But when I want them, they're right here waiting. And they're nice to look at." He'd come up behind me and put his arms around me, pulling me close to him. He murmured in my ear, "Almost as nice as you."

Heat rose to my face…in both embarrassment and excitement at his breath on my ear. He brushed his lips down my neck. Goosebumps rose on my arms. Then he took my hand and led me upstairs to the rest of the house.

From the stairs, we came into a large, open room with floor-to-ceiling windows on the opposite wall, overlooking the Gulf of Mexico. Low sunlight streamed through the windows. The décor was sparse, looking more like the lobby of a business than a home. There was a sitting area in the east half, at the top of the stairs, that included glass end tables, a boxy, black-leather couch and loveseat sitting on a white, shaggy rug. Various paintings hung on the walls and an easel with a half-finished image stood at the window-wall. Long tables displaying what looked like doll houses edged the western half of the room.

Tristan picked up an electronic gadget from one of the tables and when he touched the front of it, the screen glowed. He touched it several more times and some lights came on in the house and music started playing through speakers in the ceilings.

"Another toy?" I asked with a raised eyebrow. He just grinned.

"Come on, I'll show you around before I start dinner," he said, taking my hand again and leading me down a hallway off the living room.

The first room was an office with a large, chrome-and-glass desk, three computer screens and two walls lined with glass shelves full of books. Calendars and various charts hung on a third wall and the fourth wall was windows, facing the Gulf. An oversized, white suede chair with fat cushions and an ottoman squatted in front of the windows. I imagined curling up in the chair with a book, reading until I fell asleep.

"This is where I spend the majority of my time when I'm not with you," Tristan said and then he led me to another room, across the hall. "And this is where I am the rest of the time…unless I'm at the big gym."

It was a home gym, complete with weight machines. A large, thin mat covered half the floor, where various sized punching bags hung from the ceiling along one edge of it. The walls were bare, except for one picture. I took a couple steps closer to it and realized it was a beautifully hand-drawn picture of me, framed and matted.

"Tristan?" I asked, not able to pull my eyes away to look at him.

"It's a reminder of why I need to improve my self control," he explained quietly.

" You drew it?" I looked at him with awe.

He smiled sheepishly. "I started with a sketch when we were studying…well, you were studying. It was shortly after we met."

"Wow…I never knew," I breathed, not realizing the extent of his talent. I'd seen the cartoons he'd drawn during class, of course, and still had one tacked to my bulletin board above my desk. But this was no cartoon. He'd captured my expression perfectly in the photo-like drawing. "You're so talented."

"It's easier when I have a beautiful subject," he said with a grin. I snorted.

Also off the hallway were a bathroom, a laundry room and a closet housing all kinds of baffling electronics. He explained it was the control room for the system that automated the lights, music and hurricane shutters. One of the tall, black cabinets held a CD-changer with hundreds of CDs in it. I just shook my head, at a loss of words for such…indulgence.

He then took me upstairs to the top level, which was nothing but a large master-suite loft looking over the living room. A huge—had to be bigger than a king size—platform bed faced the western wall of windows. I eyed the bed, with its black, satiny comforter and many pillows.

"You really need this big of a bed?" I teased.

"I actually hardly ever sleep in it anymore. It feels too big and empty. I prefer the chair in the office these days. But…I think it has potential." He raised his eyebrows and grinned mischievously. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach. "Maybe we'll find out…some time. Right now, I need to start dinner."