CHAPTER 25 #3
He rode the elevator to the lobby and strode toward the restaurant for his customary egg wrap and coffee.
At this hour, the Lark was quiet, and no one was up but the patrons who’d partied all night and hadn’t yet gone to bed.
A couple strolled toward him: he, blond, she, a redhead, her short, shimmery green skirt showing off a fantastic pair of legs.
She said something to the guy and he laughed, stopping right there in the middle of everything to haul her to him, grab her ass and plant a kiss on her lips, so carnal that even at 5:00 a.m., it stirred Ian’s blood to watch them.
With her hair cascading that way down her back and those rounded hips, the woman reminded him of Claire.
Hell, everything seemed to remind him of Claire, and the more time passed, instead of her memory fading, it got more vivid.
She was emblazoned on his brain, and nothing he did could move her out.
“Wait up, Captain!”
Ian turned to see Angie, looking fresh and perfectly put together as usual, her flight bag bouncing on her hip as she hurried to catch up.
He smiled at her. “Hey, Ange.”
She beamed. “Hey. Congrats on your first flight today. I’m going to thoroughly enjoy seeing Adam in the right seat.”
So am I. “Thanks.”
She fell into step beside him, flipping her long brown hair and lowering her voice conspiratorially. “So, did you get it?”
“Yeah.” Ian grinned.
He knew what Angie referred to. Because of Claire, or maybe because he needed a complete shift in his life, he’d gone and done something his whole family would surely disapprove of if they knew.
He prayed his grandmother would never find out he’d purchased a Road King Special.
A friend of Angie’s had recently become a new mom and had given her husband an ultimatum, forcing him to sell it.
Ian had been more than happy to take it off the guy’s hands; the beautiful beast of a Harley was in mint condition.
Last night, he’d swung by and picked it up, feeling bad for the poor guy, who looked destroyed while bringing it out of the garage, as if Ian was there to lead away his faithful dog.
“Remember, no one knows about it but you,” he said.
Angie gave him a wide-eyed, innocent look. “Knows about what?”
Ian chuckled.
They reached the restaurant and took a table by the door. Ian pulled out Angie’s chair, and she slid in with a murmured thanks, tossing her bag on the empty seat beside her. “So, when do I get to ride shotgun?”
“You mean ride pillion.” Ian seated himself across from her, nodding to his favorite waiter, who hurriedly approached, carafe in hand.
“Yeah, whatever.” She raked her gaze over the server. “When are you going to give me a ride on your new Harley?”
Never.
“Coffee, Mr. Larssen,” the waiter said, but his eyes focused on Angie.
Ian turned over his mug. “Thanks, Tony.”
“Your egg wrap should be up shortly.” Tony grinned at Angie. “And your mushroom omelet too.”
Angie batted her eyelashes at him. “What would we do without you, Tony?”
He wriggled his brows, his gaze slipping to her tits. “Better yet, what would you do with me?”
Angie laughed and plucked a yellow packet of Domino sugar from the holder.
Ian waited until the young server filled both their mugs and hurried off. “I need to ride that bike alone for a while. I’m a little rusty.”
Angie added sugar to her coffee and slanted him a disbelieving look. “You got rated on three types of jets and made captain in less than three months! You’re telling me you can’t ride a motorcycle?”
Ian sipped his black Colombian, pausing to savor the rich flavor. “Each bike is different. Let me get used to this one first. I’ll let you know when I’m good to take a passenger.”
“O-kaay.” Angie dragged out the word, her full lower lip protruding in that little pout Ian knew many men found irresistible and, in the past, had worked on him as well.
She added cream and stirred, her spoon clinking against the ceramic. “You know, there are other ways we could ride together.”
That again. Ian suppressed a sigh. He had to hand it to the woman; she never stopped trying. Another time, he would have simply given in and fucked her just to get the constant propositioning to stop.
“We’ve been through this already, Ange.” He tried to keep the annoyance out of his tone—no sense in making her feel bad.
“Yeah, yeah, professional relationship, all that crap. But I swear I wouldn’t tell anyone.” Her gaze slipped to his mouth and lingered. She licked her lips. “I can’t stop thinking about how it felt when you—”
“Stop.” Now she was pissing him off. He may have to ask Adam to put her on different routes and keep her the hell away from him.
She shook her head and heaved a heavy sigh. “This is taking much longer than anyone predicted.”
Ian raised a questioning brow.
She took a sip of coffee, blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “The girls have a little pool going.”
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. “What kind of pool?” he asked, though he could guess.
“They’re betting on how long it will be before you snap out of your funk and go back to … you know.” Her red lips curved into a devilish little smile.
“Back to what? Meaningless fucking?”
Angie laughed. “Wow, so blunt, as always. Although I wouldn’t call it meaningless.”
And that was precisely why he’d been rejecting her advances. Ian gave her a half-smile. “I already told you, Ange. I’m not that guy anymore.”
Angie regarded him for a long moment, her blue eyes wistful. “Will you ever be?”
Ian stared into his nearly empty coffee cup. “I honestly don’t know.”