Saving Ian Pope

Chapter 1

IVY

Fabio wobbled in the slight breeze, and I jumped up from my chair to rescue him. As I grabbed his hunky cardboard shoulders to reposition him, I tripped over the twine connecting him to the stakes of the romance booth. Fabio and I did an awkward dance, and he wound up between my legs in a compromising position. Had been a minute since I had a man between my legs

“Are you alright? Is this bloke taking advantage of you?”

From my hunched over posture, I glanced over my shoulder into a pair of dark sunglasses obscuring the eyes of the dude with the English accent. I couldn’t read the expression in his eyes, but the guy, his face shadowed by a baseball cap, struggled to maintain his composure.

I straightened to my full height, which came to Fabio’s armpit, hugging the cardboard cutout to my chest. “I’m fine. Just putting Fabio in his place.”

The Englishman cracked a smile and then tipped his head toward the inside of the booth. “I think you have a customer. Go. I’ll handle...Fabio.”

“Thanks.”

I relinquished my cardboard boyfriend to the care of the guy with the tattooed arms and headed for my table, stacked with my two latest romance novels. I tripped on the table leg and knocked over a pile of books in front of the woman with a ring in her nose. “Sorry. I’m here.”

The woman, her canvas bag from the LA Festival of Books already bulging, picked up one of the books scattered in front of her. “Just the one I want. Can you sign it to Aurora, please? How much?”

I plopped down into my chair, re-ordering the books. “These are free today.”

Not that I could afford to give anything away.

Aurora clapped her hands together, her long fingernails clicking. “Sweet. I’ll take both, then.”

As I finished autographing the second book with a flourish, my gaze flicked to the right. The Englishman, the New York Yankees baseball cap pulled low over his forehead, his longish, brown hair sticking from the bottom, had wrestled Fabio into submission and stood beside him, mimicking the studly pose, awaiting my approval. While his body didn’t quite match the physique of the iconic romance cover model’s, he made up for the lack of beefcake with a boyish sexiness.

I put a finger on my chin and shook my head at him. Hopefully, his guilt for laughing at my predicament would prompt him to storm into the booth and demand the remainder of my stock, so I wouldn’t have to lug them home.

At the thought of unloading the rest of my books onto an unsuspecting Brit, a smile stretched my lips as I slid the signed books toward Aurora. “Thanks for stopping by. Hope you enjoy them.”

I glanced past the shoulder of my happy customer at baseball cap man, who’d taken a step into the booth, ducking beneath the awning, even though it wasn’t necessary. He wasn’t particularly tall, more average height, but his aura took up a lot of space. I couldn’t see his face, shadowed beneath his hat and obscured by the dark sunglasses, but something about his presence had captured my attention—most likely because a man checking out the romance novel booth was a rarity.

He picked up a book from one of the racks and turned it over carefully to study the back, but I could tell he was as aware of me as I was of him. A little thrill ran down my leg.

I cleared my throat. “Now that you’re intimately acquainted with Fabio, you should definitely pick up a romance to read. Have you ever read a romance novel before?”

He glanced up, holding the book over his heart, the tattoos on his hand and arm as colorful as the book cover. “Uh, not that I’m aware of, but I could start.”

“Put that one down.”

I grabbed the two books I’d been hawking all day and waved them in the air. “You should start with these two. I write romantic suspense, so you get a few dead bodies along with the romance. Or you could get them for your mother, sister, aunt, granny...”

He'd been walking toward me, as I blathered on, and parked in front of my table, plucking his sunglasses from his face and hanging them on the neckline of his white T-shirt, some obscure band name printed on the front.

I swallowed and stuttered to a stop while gazing into a pair of warm, brown eyes. Dropping the books, I licked my dry lips and reached for the diet soda on the corner of the table, knocking the empty can over. “Wife, girlfriend?”

He smiled at me, and it reached his crinkling eyes. Some chord of recognition reverberated in my chest, and I gripped the edge of the table to avoid melting into a puddle.

“I don’t have a wife, or a girlfriend, for that matter. Are you telling me your books are for women only? You don’t believe a man could enjoy a good romance?”

I flicked back my hair and straightened my shoulders. I was supposed to be promoting romance here, not turning away potential readers. “I think you...he could. And it won’t cost you a thing to try them out. My books are free today.”

His soft lips turned down in an adorable pout. “You shouldn’t give away your creativity.”

“Oh, I don’t, typically.”

I picked up a book. “It’s my publisher. All these books are my promo copies to give away to entice...new readers.”

And maybe random hot Englishmen. “I’m not allowed to sell them. Would you like one? You really should take both because they comprise the beginning of a new series for me and should be read, in order, to understand the whole story.”

“What a bargain. I would love both, autographed, please.”

He traced a finger over my name on the cover, and I shivered, as if he’d trailed that same finger along my cheek. He said, almost in a whisper, “Ivy Chase.”

Patting my chest with an open palm, more to settle my heartbeat than anything else, I said, “That’s me.”

He placed the first book in front of me, and the tips of our fingers brushed as I slid the book closer. The electricity of his touch almost had me dropping my favorite purple pen—the panties were next.

I took a deep breath and flipped open the front cover, placing the tip of the pen on the page. A little blob of purple ink marked the spot. “What’s your name?”

“Ian.”

Holy shit. Surprisingly, my hand trembled only a fraction as I wrote out his name. I signed with my usual flair, the end of the E in my last name sweeping into a curve. I spun the book around for him and grabbed the second one.

He opened the cover, careful not to crease it, and read the inscription aloud. “For Ian. These words are yours.”

I kept my head down, my burning face buried in the second book. What had possessed me to write something so cringe? He must think I’m a total idiot, referencing a song title from his days in one of the most popular boybands in history. Would he dismiss me as an obnoxious fan? A crazed hanger-on? A stalker?

All I could manage for the second book was a shaky signature. I looked up as I handed the book to him and as soon as our eyes met, he threw his head back and laughed, a sound like water bubbling over a pebbly stream bed.

I chewed on my thumbnail as I studied him; then the corner of my mouth twitched into a half-smile. His laugh was pure joy. At least he hadn’t dropped the books and made a mad dash for the exit.

He dabbed at the corner of his eye with the pad of his thumb. “Did you really just realize my identity when I said my name?”

“Yeah.”

I sat forward. “It’s not that you’re not recognizable or that I don’t know who you are. Of course, I know who you are. I was a big fan of Five2Go back in the day. I-I mean now. I’m still a big fan...”

I bit my bottom lip. “I should probably just shut up, right?”

He held up his hands. “It’s all good...Ivy. I don’t need to be recognized everywhere I go.”

He flicked the brim of his hat. “Small disguises go a long way.”

Tilting my head, I said, “It would be a better disguise if you were wearing a Dodger hat. You wouldn’t stand out as much...or inspire as much hostility.”

“Excuse me, Ivy?”

An older woman with a streak of pink in her gray hair plunked her book bag onto the table. “I’m a big fan of your books. I loved that series, Southwest Sheriffs. Nothing like hot sheriff’s deputies sweating through their khaki in the desert sun.”

As she fanned herself with her hand, she nudged Ian in the arm with her elbow and winked. He winked back before slipping on his sunglasses.

I covered my mouth and coughed. “I’m so glad you enjoyed that series. I’m starting a new miniseries with these two books—four brothers, all US Air Marshals.”

Ian muttered, “What are the odds?”

I managed to kick his foot under the table while grabbing a book. “They’re free today. Would you like both?”

“Absolutely. Can you sign one to Evelyn, that’s me, and one to Alicia? That’s my daughter.”

I eyed the diminishing stack of books on the table—the fewer the better. “If you have room in your bag, I’ll sign two for you and two for Alicia.”

The woman’s faded blue eyes sparkled to life. “That would be wonderful.”

I autographed four books, affixed the autographed by author sticker on each book and stacked them in front of Evelyn. As Evelyn’s gnarled hands reached for the books, she knocked them to the ground. My clumsiness was contagious or maybe nobody was immune from boyband charm.

“I’ve got them.”

Ian ducked down and gathered them for Evelyn and tucked them into her book bag.

“What a nice English gentleman.”

Evelyn squinted at Ian. “Are you married? I have a granddaughter about your age, and I could overlook those tattoos.”

I smirked as I raised my eyebrows at Ian. What would the nice English gentleman do to get out of this one? He probably had plenty of practice.

He gave Evelyn that crinkly-eyed smile and said, “I’m flattered you’d be willing to overlook the tattoos, but I’m in a relationship.”

His brown eyes, alight with mischief, shifted to me. I died.

Nodding, Eveyln said, “Oh, I see. Very nice.”

Heat seared my cheeks, and I placed my hands against them to hide the blush. At least Evelyn had no idea she’d just tried to set up her granddaughter with a global popstar. Thank goodness, her granddaughter would never know, either. She’d probably be mortified.

When Evelyn left the booth, I planted my elbows on the table and buried my chin in my palm. “You see what happens when you venture into the romance novel booth at the book fair? A meet and greet with Fabio and a possible blind date. What are you doing here, anyway? Do you live in LA?”

“I haven’t for a while.”

He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “I came with my manager for the week, and he’s here to support a friend of his who’s on a panel discussing non-fiction, true crime books. It all got kinda gory for me, so I ducked out.”

“Uh oh.”

I tapped the cover of one of my books. “I’m afraid there’s some blood and guts in my books, although nothing too gruesome.”

“Hi, Ivy. How’s the crowd? Did you give away many books?”

Tessa Starr, one of the other romance authors signing today, peered over the top of the box wrapped in her arms.

“Here, I’ll take that.”

Ian took the box from Tessa and lowered it to the ground as Tessa’s eyes rounded and her mouth formed an O.

She’d recognized Ian right away.

Tessa stammered, “A-are you...?”

I waved my hand. “Yes, this is Ian Pope. He’s helping out in the booth today, assisting with the setup, bringing in readers. He’ll even fetch water for you. And this is Tessa Starr, author of the very popular sci-fi robot romance series.”

Ian’s mouth dropped open. “You write books about people having sex with robots, or is it just the robots having sex with each other?”

“Human on machine. It sounds weirder than it actually is. It’s pretty hot once you get past the...mechanics.”

Tessa grinned. “What’s Ian Pope doing in our romance booth, Ivy?”

“It’s a long story, but he rescued our Fabio out there, and I was able foist my books onto him. Are you taking my place at this table? The crowd’s been good, but I’m giving my books away. Are you selling yours?”

“I am.”

She dug in the box Ian had set at her feet and popped up with a book clutched in her hand, a robot with a shiny six-pack and a busty woman with her hand on his chiseled, albeit metal pecs. “Twelve bucks—cash, Venmo, PayPal, credit card. You can have the physical book, or I can give you a code for a download.”

Ian’s mouth opened and closed for a few seconds, and then he dug into the front pocket of his faded jeans and pulled out a crumpled twenty. “I’ll take the book.”

Tessa twisted her mouth to the side. “I don’t have change, yet. Ivy, you have change for a twenty? I’ll pay you back.”

Ian waved his hand. “That’s alright. Keep it.”

Tessa squealed and plunked her book down on the table, grabbing my purple pen. She scribbled, what seemed like another chapter on the flyleaf, as I rolled my eyes at Ian, his arms crossed, his fingers drumming against his bulging bicep, his mouth quirked on one side. Ian Pope had a bulging bicep. Since when? I remembered him as a skinny teen with floppy hair in his eyes.

He was going to want to get out of here as soon as possible, before I subjected him to all the other writers signing today.

Tessa handed the book to him. “You don’t really have to read it, but maybe some lucky lady in your life would like it. Tell them the robots never get tired...if you know what I mean.”

While Tessa gave Ian a broad wink, he added the book to his growing pile of romance novels on the corner of the table.

“I’ll be sure to mention that to my...uh...mum.”

I giggled, and I hardly ever giggle. This was the most exciting book signing I’d had in...ever. “Okay, the table is all yours. I signed and stickered my leftovers, and I’ll put them in the rack with the other freebies.”

As Tessa started pulling her table items—stickers, bookmarks, pens—from the box and setting up, I pushed back from my chair and grabbed the empty soda can.

“Thanks for humoring us today.”

I gestured toward the books now tucked against Ian’s side and whispered. “You don’t really have to read the books or even keep them.”

Hugging the books to his chest, he said, “Are you kidding? Now I have something to read on the flight home.”

As I filled the slots of the freebie rack with my books, Ian stayed put. I kept expecting him to wander away. Make someone else’s day.

“Well, it was nice meeting you, Ian. You made my final minutes in the booth fly by.”

I held out my hand to shake his and tried to swallow the little lump in my throat. He must make every girl alive feel this way. I’d definitely succumbed to his charm, his looks, his smile, his eyes...the little freckle on the side of his face near his ear.

He took my hand, and the current that charged through my body at his touch almost brought me to my knees. I managed to stay upright and even smile.

I tried to pull my hand back, but he kept possession of it, squeezing lightly. “My manager, Jack, is still hanging out with his friend, and they’re going to another author panel. Do you want to get something to eat with me at one of the food trucks? I-I mean if you don’t have a huge, muscular boyfriend or husband picking you up.”

Ian Pope stuttered and...blushed?

I held out my left hand and wiggled my ring finger, never happier at my single status. “No and no.”

“What a relief. So, lunch?”

“Ah, yeah, sure.”

I grabbed the handles of my bag on the ground and started to hoist it over my shoulder.

Ian stopped me, taking the straps in his hand. “I’ll carry that for you.”

“Thanks. Evelyn was right.”

I led the way out of the booth, waving to Tessa, who pointed to me and Ian and made some obscene interlocking gestures with her fingers.

I whipped my head around so Ian wouldn’t glance back, and as I stepped into the sunshine, I rubbed Fabio’s...abs and silently thanked him.