CHAPTER 27 #3
He slid his plate to her, and she gave his burger the same treatment. Then, she took a moment to admire the aesthetics of the burger before sinking her teeth into it.
Flavors exploded on her tongue, beefy, salty, and the buttery deliciousness of the brioche bun he had used.
Claire moaned.
“Good?” Ian keenly watched her, his gaze lasering in on her mouth before he took a big bite.
She nodded and took her time to savor the masterpiece of a burger before she swallowed and licked her lips. “Good is an understatement. These are incredible. I’ve never had a burger like this anywhere.”
“And you never will.” He picked up an onion ring, looking a tad smug. “It took me years to perfect this recipe.”
“There’s a recipe? I thought burgers were just grilled meat patties.”
“Oh, Penny. It’s all about what kind of meat and how you grind and mix it.”
“You grind the meat yourself.”
“It’s the only way to know exactly what goes in there.”
“Oh.”
“I can call for ketchup if you want it.”
“No, thank you.”
She couldn’t risk it. Moreover, Ian’s burgers, fries, and onion rings were so good that no ketchup was necessary.
“Wait, aren’t you allergic to potatoes?
“I am.” He smiled. “I always use gloves for prep.”
“I see.” Warmth spread in her chest. He’d made fries just for her.
They ate in silence for a while. Ian’s gaze repeatedly returned to her face, assessing. Claire polished off one burger and eyed another but opted for more onion rings. She’d never had such crispy ones, bursting with flavor, and the light batter was not at all greasy.
“I made dessert.” He wiped his lips with a paper napkin.
“Now you tell me. I would have left room.”
“There’s always room for dessert. Give me a sec.”
He gathered the crumpled napkins and paper plates and headed inside.
Claire watched him go, unable to take her eyes off his backside, clad in that smooth black leather.
The knowledge that soon she’d find out exactly what that felt like under her hands made her shift in her seat, and at the same time, it frightened her.
The valiant fight she’d put up to resist him had exhausted her, and the thought of giving in terrified her. It was one thing to be with men who she knew would leave her angry or indifferent when they broke up with her, disappeared, or cheated.
But Ian … if she fell for him, she knew she’d fall so hard that the damage would be irreversible. A breakup with him would make all her past traumas seem insignificant.
It would destroy her.
She knew she was part of the reason why he’d left. She’d gone over what had happened in the Bahamas in her mind a hundred times. Yes, he had left to help his brother, but she knew deep down that she’d been the one to give him the final push.
Yet here he was, picking her up on a Harley and cooking her a fabulous meal when he could easily have ordered from the hotel restaurant or taken her to one. There was no shortage of places to eat in Vegas.
He returned holding a green glass plate full of chocolate-covered pastries.
He’d also changed his long-sleeved shirt for a short-sleeved black T-shirt with a huge white swooping airplane graphic and a caption that read, Getting high is my JOB in giant block letters.
Claire grinned. The caption on the T-shirt was absurd, and his wearing it amplified that.
He set the plate down with a clink. “We’re lucky to even have these. My brother dropped by while I was filling them. I had to fight him off. He scarfed down three and started to grab a fourth, and I said—”
“These are eclairs.”
“They are.”
“Eclairs,” she repeated.
“Yes. I couldn’t figure out what to make for you, and it suddenly hit me when browsing dessert recipes online. Eclairs, for Claire. Made sense, at least, to me, it did.”
She looked from the perfectly shaped elongated pastries with dark, glossy glaze to his beautiful, expectant face. The chocolate and vanilla fragrance filled her nostrils, and to her horror, tears sprang to her eyes. She brought her fist to her mouth, but still, a sob escaped her.
Instantly, Ian’s face changed from smiling to concerned.
“Penny.” He crouched by her side. “What’s wrong?”
She shook her head. Hot tears flowed freely now, and there was nothing she could do to stop them.
Shit. She always seemed to be crying around him.
He looked at her for a beat. Looked into her. She could feel it, that laser blue gaze of his that always saw straight into her no matter how hard she tried to hide. He waited for only a moment before he straightened, dragged her chair back, and swiftly scooped her up into his arms.
He was always picking her up too.
The feel of him, of so much solid strength, of his familiar embrace and his scent, all overwhelmed her, and she clung to him, sobbing in earnest. He kissed her hair, not bothering to close the sliding door, his steps long and sure, carrying her as if she didn’t weigh a thing.
She closed her eyes and buried her face in his neck, dimly perceiving that he had stopped walking and was lowering himself into a chair.
That chair where he had cradled her after giving her the most erotic experience of her life.
He had turned screwing a stranger into something more.
Somehow, he always managed to give himself to her even as she refused to take him, and it had been like that from the very first encounter.
The thought made her cry harder. Because she felt like an exploiter, a user, and a fraud.
He stroked her hair. “Let it out, Penny. I’m right here.”
He rocked her gently, slowly, until she was all cried out, and her sobs turned into occasional hiccups.
Still, he rocked her and began humming softly in her ear.
Her heart squeezed painfully at the sound of his beautiful voice and the feel of the vibrations where his chest pressed against hers. He sang a few bars.
Ed Sheeran’s “Photograph.” She knew the lyrics.
No, please, not the part about it being okay to hurt him.
She sniffled and leaned away a bit to look up into Ian’s face. “I’m a mess.”
“No.” He shook his head. “You’re never a mess.” A pause. “Well, OK, sometimes you are, but that’s a really hot mess. And I like it. Even more, I like how you get that way.”
She couldn’t believe she was now laughing. This was the emotional roller coaster she’d run from and was precisely why she’d repeatedly pulled away from him. But here she was.
She could no longer deny that she had feelings for this man, so strong and deep that she dared not name them.
“Are you OK?” he asked, peering down at her with concern.
She nodded. “I’m sorry I fell apart on you like that.”
“You can do anything you want to on me, Penny.”
No sexual innuendo. Just warmth, comfort, and care.
Her heart squeezed. Oh, this man …
“You have a lot going on,” he said. “How about we talk over dessert? I’ve been accused of being a good listener.”
She licked her lips, which suddenly felt parched. “Do you have anything to drink?”
“Besides the Coke and Pellegrino?” He thought for a moment. “I have orange juice. Oh, and pineapple, carrot too.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Pineapple carrot?”
He smiled, and she felt him relax a bit. “Pineapple or carrot.” He tapped her on the nose. “I’ve always loved your freckles.”
“Glad someone does because I hate them.” She wiped her eyes. “I meant something stronger.”
His brows shot up. “As in alcohol?”
“Uh-huh.” For the first time in her life, she felt like she needed liquid courage.
He slanted her a curious glance but only said, “Name it. I have a selection up here and can get any mixed drink you could possibly want brought up from the bar.”
“Vodka.”
“Vodka?”
She nodded.
“Vodka what?”
“Vodka straight out of the bottle,” she quipped.
Ian didn’t appear amused in the least. “That bad?”
“Worse.”
He studied her intently a moment longer, then rose out of the chair and put her down, setting her on her feet. “Give me a sec. I’m going to bring in the eclairs before they melt out there.”
Claire remained standing as he strode toward the open slider, her eyes lingering on his back until he turned the corner.
Realizing she needed the restroom, she glanced at the one just down the hallway, remembering how Ian had gone in there to get something to clean her up as she leaned, bewildered, against the wall.
She started toward it, but something made her wander down the hallway, past the many aviation photos, toward the bedroom.
His bedroom.
The door was ajar. She walked into the very masculine suite, which was just as she remembered it. The charcoal walls, dark furniture, and black pinstripe comforter were unchanged, and she felt a thrill remembering what had occurred between those sheets.
Heading for the en suite, Claire smiled at the immaculate condition of the room. No clothes were strewn across the bed, and no socks were left on the floor. Yes, she knew they had service at this hotel, but she also knew from spending time with him that he liked to keep things tidy.
She stepped inside the bathroom and flipped on the lights, cringing when she saw her reflection in the mirror. She looked like a wreck. Her red face needed some serious splashes of water and her hair …
Ugh.
She reached for the faucet handle, turned on the cold water, and froze. In the lower corner of the mirror, there it was: the kiss she had left for him in red lipstick.
She leaned over the sink, letting the water run for a long time. She closed her eyes and splashed them, trying to cool the burning and swelling her crying jag had caused.
He had cleaning staff in here daily. He must have instructed them to leave that alone.
“There you are.”
Claire jumped. She turned her head. She hadn’t heard Ian’s footfalls because of the loud rush of water.
“I didn’t mean to startle you.” Ian leaned against the doorjamb and crossed his arms. “I was afraid you’d left.”
She shut off the faucet. He handed her a towel. She patted her cheeks dry and attempted to finger-comb the disaster that was her hair. “Why would I do that?”
“You’re always running from me, Penny. I’ve come to expect it.”