CHAPTER 8 #3
He shifted just a tad, his hip brushing against hers, and reached to draw a lazy circle on her hand with his fingertip. She should have drawn away, but it was as if he’d made her unable to move, drawn to him, again, by whatever that magic magnet was that he possessed. “He’s wrong for you,” he said.
“Excuse me?”
“The doctor. It was written all over your face back there. He’s the wrong guy.”
She didn’t want to ask him who he thought was the right guy. “You don’t know that.”
“What I don’t know is why you’re willing to date that guy and not me. And, to answer your question”—he drew another circle— “I hitched a ride on my brother’s jet because I thought you and I had unfinished business.”
“You don’t give up, do you?”
“I don’t. Persistence is the secret to success.
” He took a deep breath. “I tried to forget you, Penny, I really did. But I failed, and failure is an alien thing to me. You asked me what I’m doing here.
I’ll tell you. Ever since our night together, all I’ve been thinking about is you. This has never happened to me before.”
“I’m not looking for a relationship. I’m just not ready right now, and I don’t want to lead you on.”
Ian was silent for a moment. “I flew down here on the chance that you were thinking about me too.” He turned to face her.
She couldn’t help it. She turned to look at him, and the intensity in his dark blue eyes cut her at the backs of her knees.
Whatever he read in her face must have emboldened him.
Because the next second, he had her in his arms, crushed to his powerful frame, and Claire couldn’t deny the way their bodies fit perfectly.
Before she could stop herself, her hands slid up his chest to lock around his neck.
“Has he kissed you?” His breath was warm on her cheek.
“Maybe,” she murmured, inhaling deeply of his clean scent.
“Oh, has he, now?” He sounded almost menacing and cupped the back of her head, his fingers threading through her hair. Her heart seemed to slow; she felt its steady thump echo in her throat, and suddenly, she felt dizzy.
“Then, tell me …” He bent his head.
Her hands slid down to grip his lapels, not only to steady herself but because she had to pull him closer.
His chuckle was low. “Did it feel anywhere close”—his lips brushed hers, just at the corner of her mouth— “to this?”
No, it did not.
She had to have it. Just one taste. One taste of him.
She was the one who opened her mouth over his and plunged her tongue in, deep. Here, on the balcony, with only him and the bright blue Florida sky overhead, she indulged herself, taking what she’d been dreaming of since she’d tiptoed out of that room in Vegas.
It was useless to explain the power this man had over her, and she didn’t even care to try. She lost herself in him, his embrace, his scent, his lips …
At last, he broke the kiss. “If you don’t want me, and you’d rather I go back to Fargo and not contact you again, I will respect that. But I wasn’t going to let that night become a distant memory without seeing if you wanted to make more memories with me.”
She hesitated. “What do you propose?”
He grinned. “I just might propose. But not yet.” He paused for a beat, watching her eyes widen.
“Kidding. Here’s what I propose. Go out with me too.”
“Too?”
“That’s all I ask. No pressure and no expectation of anything but having a good time.”
Sex can be a very good time, said a little red devil on her shoulder.
Where had that come from? Honestly, this man had turned her into a harlot. Because all she wanted to do right now was ask him to book a room in this hotel, in a shameless repeat of Las Vegas.
“You have my number,” he said.
She most definitely did not have his number. Her brows raised. “How would I have your number?”
“From the flowers.” He spoke with conviction.
“Flowers?” What was he talking about?
“The flowers I sent to your mom’s room. My number was on the back of the card. With a note.”
Claire frowned. She recalled Jake carrying that pretty little arrangement into the room. Her mother had assumed he’d brought the flowers, and Jake hadn’t denied it.
What had happened to the card?
“What did it say?”
He grimaced. “You didn’t get them.”
“Were they sunflowers with orange tulips?”
“Ah, you got them, then. You didn’t read the card?”
“There was no card, Ian.”
His eyes narrowed. “I see.” He contemplated for a moment. “Well, good to know you didn’t blow me off a second time.” He reached into his pocket. “I will not ask you for your number.”
Withdrawing a card, he pressed it into her hand. “Think about it. I’ll be in town for the foreseeable future. Call me, if you like. And if you don’t, I’ll understand and stay away. I’ll leave it all up to you.”
He took her hand and kissed it, then stepped back. “Now, let’s go back in there separately. We don’t want to upset Dr. Bland.”
With that, he turned and opened the balcony door. He paused, his palm on the handle. “And for the record, I don’t like octopus either.”
With one last smile, he disappeared.
Leaving her standing there, her heart still pounding, Ian’s business card clenched tightly in her fist.