Lydia had been so mesmerized by him at the coffee shop she’d completely forgotten to ask what he did for a living. “No.” The elevator doors opened on the seventeenth floor. Tristan led her down the carpeted hall. “Why do you ask?” “You told that man downstairs you could suggest something for his wife's illness.” He stopped at the last door at the end of the hall. “Nope, not a doctor. I own a pharmaceutical company.” A pharmaceutical company. Well, that explained the expensive digs. But he was so young. Maybe he’d inherited it. He opened the door and gestured for her to precede him. She hesitated. She hadn't been alone with a man other than Douglas in a long time. But here she was about to enter the residence of a man she'd just met. She looked up at him. “If you'd rather just go home,” he said, “I'll totally understand. I can call you a cab and if it makes you feel safer, you can wait downstairs in the lobby why I do so.” She didn’t need a cab. Her car was in one of the city parking lots.
