I needn’t have worried about keeping a professional relationship with Ian. We were finishing our second week of the renovation, and I had yet to see him again. Jack and his crew usually arrived by eight and left around four. I was at the house almost every day to check on the progress, take measurements, and drop off supplies. The painting was finished and the main floor bath had been gutted back to the studs. Jack planned to put it back together next week. The flooring had been delivered and sat in the dining room to acclimate before installation, also scheduled for next week.
I’d left Ian a few notes and texts to keep him in the loop and ask his opinion on modifications of the design plan.
His responses were succinct. Looks great! Or, I’m in your hands, do what you think best were pretty much what I had to work with. We had plans on Saturday to shop for the all-important “man sofa.” The one thing Ian wanted to participate in purchasing.
On the outside, I kept my cool, professional façade. Although, I was loathe to admit, in reality, I was as excited as a child on Christmas morning to see Ian again. Even if his flirting made me uncomfortable, it also made me feel like an attractive, sexy woman. Something I hadn’t felt since my divorce. I’d also noticed, since Ian hired me, he rarely showed up in any of the local tabloids. The two shots I saw were candids of him on the street. I didn’t know if filming kept him too busy to be the playboy, or if he was keeping a lower profile since my previous accusations. Or, there was always the possibility Ian was surreptitiously dating other women and not making it into the press. A thought like that could circle in my head and drive me insane, so I did my best to push it out.
It was Friday, just past five. Jack and his crew finished cleaning for the weekend and left. I was alone at the house, holding two curtain fabrics against the new paint, debating which would look best when my phone interrupted the hush.
“Squawk! Pick up the phone!” Ugh. My mother. This was the third time she’d called this week, and I hadn’t returned her previous calls. She wanted to talk about what was going on with my sister, but honestly Holly and I hadn’t spoken since my birthday. I’d left a message for her the previous week, but no surprise, she didn’t return my call.
“Squawk!”
I rubbed a thumb against my temple. “Hi, Mom.”
“Hello, sweetie. I’m so glad I caught you. I’ve been trying all week.”
“Sorry. We started two new jobs and it’s been a little crazy. What do you need?” I wandered out to the back patio, leaving the door ajar, to allow the fresh air in and to clear out the paint smell. I flopped down onto one of the new, rattan lounge chairs.
“Well, I wanted to tell you I took your advice and joined Ourtime.com, and I have my first date tonight.” She squealed.
“Wow, Mom. That’s fantastic. What’s the lucky fellow’s name?”
“His name is Harvey, and he’s only four years older than I am. He plays tennis and golf. He looks quite handsome in his photo.”
“Well, that’s good. You were worried you’d be stuck with some old coot with a saggy butt.”
“Sophia Hartland! I said no such thing!” she said with a shocked voice, but I could hear a gurgle escape.
“Maybe not, but you were thinking it.”
She giggled. “Maybe you’re right.”
“Where are you meeting him?”
“He’s picking me up, and we’re going to the golf club for dinner.”
“Mom, you’re not supposed to have them come to your home on the first date. Not even the second date. You’re supposed to meet them on neutral ground and drive your own car.”
“Oh, honey, I’m old-fashioned. I like a man to pick me up for a date.”
I smacked my forehead, frustrated by her naiveté. “You don’t know anything about this man. What if he’s an obnoxious loudmouth and it’s a horrible date and you can’t leave because he drove?”
“I have my cell. I can call a cab.”
“What if he gets handsy with you and forces unwanted attentions on you? What if he’s a psycho killer who wants to take you to his backwoods house and chop you up in little pieces?”
Mom was quiet for a moment. “I’m sure the golf club wouldn’t allow a murderer to join.”
“Arrgh!” My eyeballs practically rolled to the back of my head. Dating had changed from when she and my dad did it; I’m sure she thought the endorsement of a country club made this man safe. My mother was far too trusting.
“I thought you’d be happy I’m going out.”
“Oh, Mom. I am happy. I’m just worried you don’t know the dating rules nowadays. You need to be more careful.” The amber and golden hues of the setting sun streaked across the sky.
“What about you? I’m stepping out of my comfort zone. Are you dating anyone?”
I climbed out of the lounger and paced over to the pool. “Um … well there is this man I’m interested in.”
“Is he handsome?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“That sounded loaded.”
“Handsome doesn’t even cover it. He’s gorgeous, and he’s got these piercing blue eyes that make me weak in the knees, and he’s smart and funny.” I sighed. Slipping my sandals off, I dragged a toe across the cool liquid, disturbing the still water with little lapping waves.
“Umm, hmm.”
“He’s not my normal type. He’s way out of my league.”
“Oh, my darling girl, any man would be lucky to have you. So, when are you going out on a date?”
I let out a breathy whistle. “Hopefully, in about two or three weeks.”
“Two or three weeks!” her voice cried so loudly I had to pull the phone away from my ear. “I don’t understand you young people. Is this some sort of vetting process you put all your dates through? It’s just a date, Sophie. You’re not moving in with the man.”
“I know, Mom. I know. It’s a little more complicated than that.” Blindly, I backed toward the lounger. When my heels hit the legs, I bent to sit, but instead of feeling the woody rattan, my backside came into contact with a warm body and a masculine hand slid across my hip.
“Aiieeee!” I screeched. My heart shot into high gear. I whirled around.
Ian beamed from ear to ear. His presence was so unexpected, it threw me off balance and I reeled back toward the pool. I tripped over one of my sandals, and before I realized what was happening, my foot met nothing but space.
Ian’s face changed from a smug grin to surprise, and he lunged out of the chair to help, but it was too late.
My body tilted too far back to regain any balance, and I knew I was going in. “Not my phone.” I hollered, and threw it at Ian in an effort to keep it from getting ruined.
Reflexively, his hand shot out and caught the cell as the chilly water enveloped my head.
I stood, spluttering.
He leaned over the pool. “Sophie? Are you okay, luv?”
Stringy, wet hair fell across my eye. I swiped the locks aside, spitting them from my mouth. “I’m fine. How long have you been sitting there?”
A shit-eating smile split his face. “A little while.”
Long enough to hear me gushing over him to my mom, I’m sure. I was mortified.
“Sophie? Sophie? Are you there? Are you okay?” I barely heard my mom’s voice coming from the phone in Ian’s hand.
He passed the cell into my dripping digits.
“Mom, I’m fine. I have to go. I’ll call you back.” I cut her off before she could say another word and placed the phone on the side of the pool.
Ian leaned down toward me. “Here, let me give you a hand. I’m sorry, luv. I never thought you’d fall into the flippin’ pool, and by the time I realized where you were headed, it was too late.”
I ground my teeth, giving a noncommittal grunt, and took his hand.
“Here, give me your other hand and I can pull you directly up.”
“No, just let me just get a foothold here.” Placing my two feet on the side, I gave a hard yank and pulled Ian in. He sailed over my head and made a satisfying splash. I turned my back and pushed my way through the water toward the steps. Ian took his turn to come up sputtering.
“I suppose I deserved that.”
“You deserve more than that.” I muttered softly, not for his ears. I continued pushing my way through the water as I climbed the first step. There was a quick splash, and, fast as lightning, a band of iron wrapped around my ribcage, brushing against my cold-hardened nipples, and pulled me up against a solid, wet chest. All the air left my lungs.
“C’mon, Sophie. Don’t be mad,” he whispered. His humid breath danced across my hair.
My hands gripped Ian’s arm and I dropped my head forward. “Ian, I’m not mad. I just feel really stupid for not noticing you were home and for falling in your pool. And it’s a little cold, so do you think you can let me get out?”
His armed loosened immediately, and, with as much dignity as I could muster, I climbed out of the pool. There was a light breeze, and I wrapped my arms around my torso in an effort to warm up. Too humiliated to face him, I kept my eyes lowered.
“Come on. Let’s get you dried off.”
I grabbed my sandals and phone and followed him to the half bath on the main floor. He pulled two towels out from the under the sink cabinet, handed me one, and toweled his hair with the other. My mouth went dry as I took in the wet T-shirt plastered against his firm muscles. I wrapped my towel around my chest, too aware of my now see-through white silk blouse and manky back-of-the-drawer bra.
He placed a thumb on my chin and raised my face to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have eavesdropped.”
I lowered my lids, shielding the ocean of uncertainty and attraction behind them. Thoughts tumbled through my brain; dirty thoughts that told me to rip Ian’s shirt off and to hell with our deal. However, louder than my libido, my inner conscious screamed at me to get out, quickly, before I did something stupid. My conscious won. I took a small step away and opened my eyes.
“It’s fine.” I plastered on a smile and gave a laugh, which I didn’t quite feel. “I’m sure it was kind of funny watching me pitch into the pool like that.”
Ian scrutinized me with uncertain eyes. If he made any sort of move toward me, my resolve would crumble. The bathroom was tight with the two of us in it. Our breathing was the only sound. It surrounded us, and I waited in suspended animation to see which way the mood would shift. Even though I was soaking wet, my clothes plastered against me, his searing gaze warmed me.
Then the corners of his eyes crinkled. “It was kind of funny. I’m surprised the neighbors aren’t banging on my door to find out what the screeching was all about.”
Relief flooded me and a genuine giggle burst forth. “You like to keep me off balance, don’t you?”
“It has its perks.” He blatantly stared at my chest where I continued to hold the towel.
I rolled my eyes. “You are such a guy.”
“No doubt about that. C’mon.” His teeth flashed. “Let’s get you a dry kit. I’ll order up something for dinner, and you can tell me about all the brilliant things you’re doing to the house.”
I shook my head. “I should be going.”
Ian crossed his arms and lowered his brows. “You’re soaking wet. At least let me give you something dry to change into for the drive home.” He stood immovable.
Arguing wouldn’t get me out of the door any faster, so I gave in with a brief nod.
“Wait here.”
Ian’s damp feet padded across the living room as his hem left tiny droplets. The backside view of the clingy, sopping jeans was almost as yummy as the front. I sighed. He looked hot and sexy wet. A glance in the mirror told its own story. I looked like a drowned raccoon … with mascara running down my cheeks.
Oh, that’s attractive.
By the time he returned, I’d removed the mascara, but a damp coldness had filtered into my bones. Goose bumps prickled and shivers quivered through my body. He handed me a small pile of clothes with a hair dryer on top.
Thankfully, I took his offering and quietly closed the door. It was a relief to peel off my drippy slacks and blouse. I vigorously towel dried warmth back into my body. The sweats were so large I had to roll them at the waist and ankles. My underthings were uncomfortably damp, even after squeezing excess water out, so I rolled them up with the rest of my soggy garments and went commando. Using his hair dryer, I finger combed the moist tendrils into some semblance of order. The mirror reflected my dry but disheveled state, and I was glad Ian had supplied me with a dark-colored hoodie to cover the white T-shirt. I was uber aware of my now braless state and the white T-shirt left little to imagination. When you’re a skinny size two, like most of the wannabes flooding the streets, going braless is no big deal. When you’re sporting full C cups, going without support is noticeable and uncomfortable. At least it was to me. The entire ensemble made a sort of ghetto chic statement when I finished it with my black wedge sandals.
Uh huh, sexy, Hartland. Real sexy.
The kitchen and family room were silent with emptiness. I dropped my clothes into a plastic bag left behind by Jack’s crew. The crackling sack sounded loud to my ears as I crammed the mess into my ever-present tote.
“Ian?” My voice echoed in the stillness. I cocked an ear, listening for movement from the upper floor. Nothing. A quick getaway would be best, but I didn’t want to be rude. Ripping a piece of paper out of a pad from my purse, I left a brief note thanking him for the loan and confirming our appointment on Saturday to look for the perfect sofa.
A soft whistle met my ears as I surreptitiously closed the front door.
“Planning to leave without saying good-bye?”
Caught.
I turned. Ian slipped out of the shadows of the garage.
“Of course not.” I straightened my shoulders. “I called, but you didn’t answer.”
He gave me an indecipherable look.
I made an effort to create a semblance of poise. “By the way, I left a note on the kitchen counter for you about our meeting tomorrow. Are you still available to go couch shopping?”
“Sure. What time do you want me to pick you up?”
“You don’t need to pick me up.”
“Fine. You can pick me up. What time?”
“We can meet at the store. I’ll text you the address.”
“What if I don’t know where it is?”
“GPS it.”
“What if I don’t have GPS?”
I raised an incredulous eyebrow. “Try Google Maps.”
“What’s Google Maps?”
“Are you pulling my leg?”
“Who me?” He gave me a wide-eyed look.
“Fine. I’ll pick you up at nine thirty. The store opens at ten, and if we can’t find what you’re looking for there, I have a few more places we can check out.”
“Is this place closer to my house or yours?”
“Mine. Why?”
“I’ll pick you up. No need for you to go out of your way. Then you can direct me to the store, and I won’t get lost.”
“Oh, yeah?” It was my turn to smirk. “How are you going to find my house?”
“GPS,” Ian deadpanned.
I couldn’t hold back the chuckle that escaped. I had no idea verbally sparring with an actor could be so entertaining and frustrating at the same time. I tossed my tote into the CR-V and caved. “Fine, I’ll text you my address. Pick me up at quarter to ten. It’s only a few minutes from my house.”
The hoodie’s zipper got caught on my handbag as I slung it toward the passenger seat. I pulled it down to sternum level to try and unhook it, but the evening dusk had faded into darkness and the vehicle’s interior light didn’t shed enough illumination to see the problem properly. With my back to Ian, I hunched my shoulders, and tugged ineffectually at my purse in hopes it would release.
“Is something wrong?”
I grunted. “My purse is hooked on this zipper, and I can’t get it to let go.”
“Here, let me help.” Ian placed a hand on my shoulder.
“No, no. I’ll get it.” I shrugged him off. I had no interest in letting him get close to my floppy, braless chest. I continued to tug, but my efforts were fruitless. Giving in, I turned around to face him with scrunched shoulders. “Okay. I need help.”
He pulled a set of keys out of his pocket and flicked on a miniature LED flashlight. “Here, shine this at the zipper.”
Ian took the purse and the zipper slid farther down to my waist. Thankful for the darkness, I directed the beam at the problem. His dark head bent over as he worked and a knuckle inadvertently brushed against my breast. My belly clenched with desire. It took a physical effort to breathe normally. I hoped Ian couldn’t hear my heart hammering because I sure could. It pounded in my ears like a staccato drum. It felt like forever, but in a few seconds, he released the handbag.
“There you go.” He took a step back and held it out.
“Thanks,” I replied weakly and pulled the sweatshirt across my chest.
“So, we’re on for tomorrow?” He seemed utterly relaxed. Apparently, I was the only one getting into a froth.
“Yes.” I climbed into the SUV, turned over the engine, and rolled down my window. “Thanks for the dry clothes. I’ll launder them and get them back to you tomorrow.”
Ian’s fingers curled over the window frame. “No rush. Besides, I like to think of you wearing my clothes without a bra and knickers.”
Jeez, could this situation get any worse?
Ian wiggled his brows and flashed a cheeky grin. Taking advantage of my shock, he leaned in and gave me a hard kiss that sizzled all the neurons in my brain and headed south.
“Have a good night, luv,” he whispered in the darkness. “See you tomorrow.”
He sauntered into the house like he didn’t have a care in the world.
I gave myself a shake. Will I ever be on even ground around Ian? Why do I go from a cool, calm professional to an artless wreck every time he comes within a fifteen foot radius?
“Squawk! Pick up the phone.”
“Argh!”