Chapter Nine
A WEEK LATER Ivy relaxed into the red velvet chair and stretched her neck from side to side.
Ethan sat facing her in a matching chair, a card table between them, his laptop on its shiny surface.
It wasn’t an ideal ergonomic set-up, but since Ethan had revealed why he hated the cold, she’d done everything possible to make sure wherever they worked was as warm as possible.
That’s why they followed the sun like a sundial and were currently in the grand ballroom with the thick red velvet drapes pulled aside to let the sunshine stream through the windows that ran along one side.
‘So, we’re back to this,’ Ethan said, pushing up the sleeves of his black jumper.
Ivy blinked, trying not to get distracted by his sinewy forearms, the subtle scent of mint and something unidentifiable that was uniquely his, making her want to store his smell in her memory for the long cold years ahead.
She rubbed her temples, not sure if that would be heaven or hell, especially since their kiss in the kitchen.
A kiss she desperately wanted to forget because it had felt so right, so good, even when it broke every promise she’d made to herself about what she deserved.
Yet she didn’t have to worry about it being repeated as Ethan had halted it, didn’t want her.
Something deep inside twisted painfully.
She should be happy, relieved he had, because she wasn’t sure she would have.
And in the week since? Her peace of mind would have preferred it if his appeal had diminished during their long hours spent relentlessly going through the options of every social issue and illness they could think of, but it hadn’t, not even close.
Instead, it had ramped up the longer they’d spent discussing all ages, genders and circumstances in life, then whittled the list down and down, all the while taking into account the capabilities of WillowGlen and the causes Ruby had held most dear.
She’d admired his dogged determination to find the best possible fit.
There’d been no grandstanding, only a willingness to listen, to learn and work together on a solution.
Somehow, she’d managed to concentrate and keep all outward signs in line with the friendship they were forming, no touching, hugging or kissing included.
‘Children under eighteen who are dealing with grief,’ he said, as a shiver of recognition confirmed once again that this was…right.
Ethan’s gaze snared hers, his eyes darkening and the bond between them intensified, because they’d both known what that had been like.
Hell.
As well as the difference Ruby and WillowGlen had made to their lives.
‘Yes, Ethan,’ she whispered gripping the arm of the chair as the significance of the moment hit.
He swallowed. ‘We’re in agreement, then.’
She nodded. ‘I think Ruby would be happy about this,’ she rasped, overcome with gratitude that they’d worked together and come up with something so fitting.
‘Me, too.’ He leant forward, placing his elbows on the table and linked his hands together. ‘And our decision to focus only on this, although she never restricted herself in any way.’
They’d discussed, numerous times, whether to support as many charities and worthwhile causes as possible, or hone in on one and really make a difference.
‘How about we honour the moment with a toast to Ruby?’ she suggested.
He grinned, a flash of white teeth. ‘With her favourite? And I don’t mean tea.’
Ivy’s lips twitched. ‘I couldn’t think of anything better.’
‘Wait here and I’ll go and grab it.’ Within seconds he was up and walking across the parquetry floor with his ground-eating stride before disappearing from view.
Ivy rose and moved the two chairs and table to remain in the sun, making the most of the weather and the few hours of daylight left.
A shiver of recognition raced down her spine, and she turned to see Ethan, carrying a silver wine bucket, a bottle of champagne and two crystal flutes.
Her belly fluttered, he looked like a big, bad bodyguard in his black jeans, jumper and boots, emanating a pulse-racing clash between safety and danger.
She dug her fingers into the back of her chair to keep herself exactly where she was, because she wasn’t going to race over and press herself against all that firm muscle.
He could never know how much he tempted her, how the feelings he evoked created a tug of war she could never win.
Like she’d telegraphed her thoughts, his eyes narrowed and his steps slowed before he placed everything wordlessly on the table.
Heat raced across her face—from the sun, she convinced herself, not her reaction to Ethan—as he popped the cork, eliciting a cheer from both of them, before filling the flutes.
‘To the next phase of WillowGlen. May it do Ruby proud and all who come here seeking solace,’ Ethan said, his voice thick.
Tapping her glass against his, she murmured, ‘To solace.’
She took a sip, then another, yet her senses were too preoccupied by him to appreciate its vintage.
Desperately needing to restore her composure, she looked around the ballroom, willing its grandeur to distract her.
The three enormous chandeliers glittered under an ornate coffered ceiling awash with gold leaf.
Wood-panelled walls ran from the ceiling to the floor, with lampshade sconces halfway down.
Red velvet armchairs and settees were scattered around the perimeter, next to various card and side tables.
She recalled the last time she was in here, the day she’d met Ethan, when as the cliché went, she’d seen him across a crowded ballroom and her life hadn’t been the same since.
He’d been standing with Luc and Cam, dressed, courtesy of the 1920s theme, in a pinstripe three-piece suit.
Three tall, broad-shouldered, superb-looking men had been impossible to miss.
But it was Ethan who’d tilted her universe like she’d sucked in the helium from the balloons dangling from the ceiling.
An effect no-one else had ever had on her.
That’s why, she reasoned, for a few blissful hours she’d forgotten she didn’t have the right to feel like that, nor behave the way she had.
She’d dropped Ivy as they’d walked out of the ballroom onto the terrace, down the sandstone steps and into the garden for some fresh air, and she’d let Annie reign.
She’d been haunted by the ultimate what ifs ever since.
If she hadn’t killed her parents, and she’d been free, how would it have played out?
Would they have stopped at a kiss, or one night, or something else entirely?
Or had Ethan only been attracted to Ivy, not Annie?
Or it wouldn’t have mattered because he didn’t do long-term relationships anyway?
And now she knew what she did about his parents’ deaths, what scars was he nursing?
Her eyes misted, hating to think of him hurting.
‘Ivy?’ Her name, spoken in a deep timbre of concern, jerked her back to the present.
She blinked furiously and brushed a hand against her cheek before draining her glass.
‘I love this room,’ she said, anxious to hide her thoughts.
‘Would you care to dance?’ he asked, strangely formal.
‘Here? Now?’ Her voice rose, failing to hide her surprise and a hitch of excitement.
‘Why not?’ He shrugged nonchalantly, except his eyes were intent and watchful.
She opened her mouth to decline, knowing it was the last thing she needed, but she wanted to. Just one dance. A fitting way to honour their decision, she tried to kid herself.
‘Okay,’ she said quickly before she could change her mind.
He smiled, her heart flipped and he pulled out his phone, flicking through the screen until something slow and sultry played.
He held out a hand. ‘Ready?’
She placed hers in his and he pulled her, in one easy move, against his chest. She puffed in surprise and grabbed his shoulder, heat curling through her veins at their connection.
Keeping her gaze level with his chin and the stubble covering it, she dared not to look any higher in case he caught a glimpse of what she was feeling. And it wasn’t friendship.
‘Relax,’ he whispered against her hair, before they began moving around the room in an easy waltz. She’d learnt to ballroom dance for a movie role, but it hadn’t felt like this, like she was floating and perfectly in sync with her partner.
His hand anchored at the base of her spine, her hem swirling around her ankles, she forgot everything except making the most of this stolen moment, longing for the song to never end.
When it did, their steps slowed and she put her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes and taking a deep lingering breath of Ethan, knowing she’d never forget this.
But it was only friendship. All he’d promised. All she could offer. And even that she didn’t deserve.
She shuddered, and his sharp inhale in response echoed through her and she knew it was now or never. Gathering the last vestiges of control she pushed at his chest. His hold tightened momentarily, then loosened as she stepped back, and his hands fell to his side.
‘Thank you, Ethan. That was…’ Magical. Unforgettable. ‘A fitting way to celebrate,’ she said to a spot on the wall over his shoulder, before clenching her fists to meet his gaze. A flash of hunger burnt in the blue depths, but was quickly extinguished as he crossed his arms.
‘You’re welcome,’ he intoned, and she hurried out of the ballroom, her stilettos loud on the parquetry floor…not daring to stay any longer with him and the temptation only he evoked.