CHAPTER 7
Claire
“Well, this is a novel trick to get me to strip for you again,” Ian said through his teeth, low enough for only Claire to hear him.
For a few seconds, Claire couldn’t process.
She stood there, staring, registering the fact that not only was his white shirt covered in red, but somehow, most of the chocolate cake had landed on the front of Ian’s gray pants.
His shoes sported the rest, brown goo and ketchup-covered fries splattered all over his black oxfords.
Because she’d pressed the tray against him, she’d managed to hold on to it, but now, his nearness almost made her drop it.
She dragged her gaze away from his frosting-covered crotch. If anything, the pull was even more intense than the first time she’d laid eyes on the man. Even in the bright, garish lights of the cafeteria, he looked …
Dear God. It finally hit her.
Ian was here. How had he found her?
Her arms began to hum with that same tingling feeling surging through her body, converging somewhere deep.
She swallowed. “Ian.”
“Yeah.” He smirked. “Dirty Ian.”
Something stirred in the pit of her belly at his words and tone. But God, she’d made a terrible mess of his clothes. “I am so sorry.”
Heat crept up her neck. Thank goodness that, in this far corner of the bustling cafeteria, few people had noticed.
“If sacrificing an outfit was what it took to see you again, I’m good with it.”
There it was, that little shudder he seemed to provoke with only a glance.
“How did you find me?”
He smiled a little. “I’m an attorney. You know we’re experts at discovery.”
She blinked, not smiling at his attempt at a double meaning. “Why are you here?”
“I wanted to see you.” Ian bent to pick up the silverware, burger, and chocolate-covered plastic plate, but not the bowl smeared with ketchup.
The Coke can had rolled away, leaving a trail of liquid.
Slowly, he straightened, took the tray away from her with one hand, and reached around her to set it on the table behind her.
Tossing the mangled burger and everything else on the tray, he turned the full force of his blue eyes on her.
“I thought we could talk here, but …” He gestured toward himself. His smile deepened, flashing that dimple. “Now, I’ll have to get out of these clothes, so I guess you’ll have to come with me.”
“Where?” She’d blurted it before she could stop herself. She also couldn’t stop the blush that crept up her cheeks. Flashes of that night slammed into her, and she felt her breath begin to catch.
And Ian read her thoughts again because his eyes became twin blue flames.
Behind her, she heard the sound of someone clearing his throat. Claire started. She had forgotten all about the doctor.
“I’ll get someone to clean up,” Jake said, rising, a wad of napkins in his hand. “Way to make an entrance, man,” he said to Ian, offering him the napkins, his hazel eyes coolly assessing.
“Thanks.” Ian made a half-hearted attempt to swipe at the frosting, which only made it worse.
He didn’t bother with the massive ketchup stains on his starched white shirt.
“I take it you’re a friend of Miss Burns?” Jake asked.
His tone was unpleasant despite the cool delivery, and Claire saw that Ian perceived it too.
His blue eyes flashed, narrowing slightly as he fixed Jake with an unwavering stare. “I am.” He held out his hand, confidence oozing from every pore. “Ian Larssen.”
Claire noted that the men were the same height, but Ian was far more muscular. And far more … well, everything.
“Jake Lang.”
“Pleasure.”
Claire almost laughed at that. The hostility that crackled in the air as the two shook hands was virtually palpable.
This was crazy. She barely knew either of them, yet she felt caught in the middle of some sort of primal male posturing.
“Excuse my bad manners,” she said. “I should have introduced you. Dr. Lang has been caring for my mother while she’s here. Ian and I …” What could she say?
Ian and I had an all-night session of mind-blowing sex in Las Vegas.
Ian grinned. “We know each other well.”
That worked. At least he wasn’t lying. They’d come to know every square inch of each other that night.
What was he doing here? Claire couldn’t resist; she needed to find out.
She gave Jake her best smile. “I need to go. You’ll put me in touch with Dr. Dawson?”
Jake’s answering smile was stiff. His eyes narrowed on Ian’s hand, which was now on her lower back. “Absolutely.”
“Thank you for everything you’ve done for Mom. And for lunch. I owe you one.” Claire shouldered her bag and turned to Ian. “And I owe you a massive dry-cleaning bill.”
His palm glided to her hip, making her heart rate spike. Again, he spoke so only she could hear him. “Oh, you owe me much more than that, Penny.”
·
It was surreal, seeing him in the hospital elevator, this man who had become a fantasy to her. Yet, now she had him in the flesh one step away, and oh, what a presence he was. His eyes were steely as he met her questioning gaze. “I’m looking for answers.”
“To what?”
As if the atmosphere in the cabin weren’t charged enough, he began undoing buttons, giving her a visual so hot, she wouldn’t have been surprised to see sparks fly with every flick of his fingers across his shirt front.
“What are you doing?” She licked her suddenly dry lips.
He kept unbuttoning.
She swallowed. “Are you sure you want to do that here?”
He looked at her mouth, smiling a little. “I want to do a lot, Penny. I meant to have a civilized conversation, fully clothed, about the way you left without saying goodbye or leaving me your number, but now, I really need to get this shirt off me.”
She couldn’t tear her eyes away from his hands. As the sides of the shirt parted, she saw he wasn’t wearing an undershirt, and her breath quickened at the prospect of seeing his smooth skin and rippled torso. She’d had her hands and mouth and tongue all over that.
What she saw, however, were angry dark pink blotches that seemed to spread and grow before her eyes, turning into red welts on his beautiful chest.
“Oh my God!”
“Last time I heard that from you, it was under”—he smirked— “far better circumstances.”
She felt her cheeks flame and tore her gaze away, only to have it stubbornly return as he shrugged off the shirt and balled it in his hands, using it to swipe at the frosting on his trousers.
“What’s causing this reaction?” she asked.
He bent to clean his shoes. “Tomato allergy.”
The ketchup.
“Oh.”
The doors parted, and three nurses moved to get on, stopping short at the sight of Ian, shirtless.
He smiled and nodded. “Come right in, ladies. There’s plenty of room.”
After a beat, they scrambled inside. All three perused his torso, not seeming to notice his stained pants or shoes, and there was nothing clinical in how they ogled him.
“That is one impressive case of urticaria,” one said. “I’ll bet that itches something awful. I hope you used an EpiPen.”
Claire swore she saw him shudder.
He looked down at himself. “I haven’t.”
“Headed to dermatology?” the second one asked, practically purring as she gazed up at his face. “I have a friend who works there. I can take you to her. She’ll fix you right up.”
I’ll bet she will. Claire had no reason to be irritated but felt her brow furrow as she regarded the prettiest one, who was unashamedly trying to eye fuck Ian. With a wedding ring on her left hand.
Ian gave her a polite smile. “Thank you. It’s under control.”
The woman looked skeptical. She also looked disappointed.
The doors parted, and the nurses headed out, but not before the married one turned back to smile at him.
“Toodles!” she said over her shoulder.
Really?
Claire blinked. “Did she just say toodles?”
“I believe she did.” Ian grinned; that dimple flashed at the corner of his mouth, and Claire felt her knees go weak at the sight, just as they had before. Whatever had attracted her to him was still there in copious quantities.
“I can confidently say that the word toodles has never passed my lips, and I’m pretty sure I’ve never heard it from anyone else either,” she said.
“Well, there’s a first time for everything, isn’t there?”
His sexy tone made it crystal clear he wasn’t talking about what the nurse had said. He was referencing their night together. Heat radiated in her core, and she felt a pulse deep inside her.
The elevator doors opened to the garage. Ian reached into his pocket and withdrew a parking card, pausing to let her step out first.
She watched him toss the balled-up shirt into a nearby trash can. She winced. That had to be a very expensive shirt he’d had to throw away.
“I feel terrible about this,” she said.
He started forward, and before she realized it, she was walking with him.
He slanted her a mischievous glance. “Are you offering to make it up to me?”
“I’ll buy you a new shirt.”
He chuckled. “I was hoping for Claritin. Kidding. I always carry it with me.” Gingerly, he touched his chest. “These should be gone in twenty-four hours. But you can make it up to me another way.”
She tried not to think about what he could ask of her. “What do you want?”
“Dinner.”
Her eyes widened. “As in, a date?”
He took a key fob out of his pocket and clicked it. She heard a chirp and saw an orange four-door Porsche flash its lights nearby.
“Call it whatever you wish.” He popped the hatch before reaching the car, unzipped a tan leather suiter, and took out a fresh, starched shirt.
“We go to a nice place, eat good food, and talk.” He shrugged into the shirt, quickly buttoned it, and she couldn’t help watching, catching the last glimpse of that chest she’d never see again.
The thought made her throat catch.
He saw her looking and grinned.
He unzipped the suiter’s pocket, fished around, brought out a small white pillbox, and flicked it open. He found a water bottle in the side net and quickly popped two pills into his mouth.
She watched his Adam’s apple bob with his swallow, and a shudder rippled through her, recalling how his neck had felt under her tongue.
He licked his lips. “Maybe we get another bottle of the Dom rosé.”