Chasing Mrs. Right

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are
used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright © 2013 by Katee Robert. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form
or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

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Edited by Heather Howland
Cover design by Heather Howland

ISBN 978-1-62266-787-1

Manufactured in the United States of America

First Edition March 2013

The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks
mentioned in this work of fiction: Band-Aid, Zumba, 5-hour Energy, Starbucks, Brides, Chevrolet, Diet Coke, Taste of Thai,
Will Robinson, Lost in Space, Monopoly, River Park Square , Seinfeld, Hannibal Lecter, Silence of the Lambs, Big Al’s Country
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Chapter One

When Ian Walser got off the plane in his hometown of Spokane, Washington, all he’d
really wanted was a cold beer and twelve hours of undisturbed sleep.

His family and friends had other plans.
He took a long pull from his beer and sighed. At least he’d gotten one of those things.

All around him, people milled in the semidarkness of the club. Elle and her new boyfriend
sat at the other end of the long table, and he thanked his lucky stars they were more
interested in each other than him. To be fair, he’d shut his sister down every time she
came over and tried to talk to him. He just wanted to be alone.

It wasn’t in the cards for him tonight, though. Along with his baby sister, the crowd was

filled  with  old  high  school  friends  he  hadn’t  bothered  to  keep  up  with,  aside  from  the
occasional phone call or e-mail. It wasn’t that he’d wanted to cut all ties with this place
when  he’d  shipped  out  overseas—he’d  just  never  been  good  at  long-distance
communication.  Hell,  outside  of  his  family,  the  only  person  he  talked  to  regularly  these
days was Nathan, and his best friend hadn’t been able to make it tonight.

Ian’s mother perched on the chair next to him, effectively blocking any chance of

escape. Even knowing he was safe here, the familiar tightness started in his chest. He
wanted to ask his mom to move, to let him have the end seat at the table, but then he’d
have to explain himself, and he hadn’t seen fit to share all the gory details of his most
recent tour. As bad as it had been with Nathan by his side when they’d been in Iraq, it
had been a thousand times worse when he’d shipped out to Afghanistan alone. Just
thinking about it had the pressure building in his chest.

He made a conscious effort to breathe—in through his nose, hold for three seconds, out

through his mouth.

It didn’t help.
Neither did his mother.
“Your sister went through all the effort to plan this party and you’ve spent the entire

time sitting in the corner, glaring at anyone who tries to talk to you. You’re being rude.”

As much as he loved his mother, dealing with her was the last thing he needed right

now. “No one asked me if I wanted this.”

If he had been asked, he would have found a way out of it. But there’d been no time to

escape once Elle picked him up from the airport and hustled him here, barely giving him
enough time to shower at her place on the way.

Here, with the country music twanging, balloons attached to every available surface,

and the clash of too many people in too small a space, his nerves were shot, and he had
a nasty headache starting. A trio of laughing women bumped into the table, one of them

falling against the balloons on the farthest corner. One of the balloons popped, startling
him half out of his skin despite the fact that he knew it was coming. He dug his fingers
into the table, fighting for control, but there was too much noise, too much movement,
too much everything.

“Ian Christopher Walser—”
Elle chose that moment to jump to her feet, looking like a virgin sacrifice in a den of

iniquity wearing a white dress with her hair pulled up. “Mom! I just had the best idea
about the wedding.”

Their mom zeroed in on her like a shark scenting blood. “I hardly think—”
“Come on.” Elle hustled around the table, grabbed their mother’s hand, and practically

dragged her out of her seat. She paused long enough to peek around the closest cluster
of red, white, and blue balloons to wink at Ian, and then they were gone, disappearing
through the mass of people.

That had been a close one. He rubbed his hands over his face and then down his

sternum, where the pressure hadn’t decreased. If anything, it was a thousand times
worse, like there was an invisible gargoyle on his chest, slowly smothering him.

Christ, he had to get out of here before he lost it. He was already having a hard time

holding still. He kept reaching for where his gun should be holstered—had been holstered.
Not anymore, though. Ian wouldn’t survive another tour. Or rather, his body would
probably survive, but he wasn’t sure his sanity would. He couldn’t remember the last time
he’d had more than four hours of nightmare-free sleep.

He finished his… Honestly, he wasn’t sure how many beers he’d had. Not enough to dull

the irrational shit flickering through his head. It didn’t help that the owner of the club he
was currently sitting in belonged to his baby sister’s thug of a fiancé.

That, at least, gave him something to focus on besides his own misery. Gabe Schultz

was a scary motherfucker, tall and packed with enough muscle to make most guys think
twice before messing with him. His best friend—Gabe’s little brother, Nathan—had the
same build, but at least Nathan had a reason for it when he was in the service. His baby
sister’s new guy, on the other hand, looked like trouble. Just like the asshole she’d dated
before Ian had stepped in and put an end to that.

Maybe focusing on Elle and Gabe wasn’t the best idea he’d had either because the room

suddenly felt even hotter. Hoping moving around would calm him down, he slipped out of
his seat. The crowd of people seemed to press in on him, smothering him as he made his
way to the bar. It was a trick of the mind—no one was actually touching him—but Ian’s
mind was more than adept at this kind of thing now.

Air. He needed air.
Giving up on the bar, he headed for the elevator like there was a goddamn monster

breathing down his neck. A man stepped into his path, his height instantly making him a

threat. No, that wasn’t right. There were no threats here, and this guy was grinning like
they were the best of friends. Ian blinked, belatedly recognizing the face of his old
quarterback. Despite playing beside the guy for four years in high school, his name
slipped through Ian’s fingers like sand.

The guy clapped his shoulder. “Hey, man. Long time, no see.”
He couldn’t do this now. Even that small touch had him clenching his jaw and

scrambling for control. If he didn’t get out of here soon, he was going to lose his shit
completely. “Yeah.” When the guy only grinned wider and looked like he was settling
down for a good, long talk, Ian slid around him. “Be right back.”

If he had anything to say about it, he’d never set foot in this hellhole again. Elle’s fiancé

be damned.

Ian stopped trying to hold himself in check and more or less jogged the last few steps

past the elevator to the stairwell. As soon as the door closed behind him and he hit the
stairs running, the music dimmed to a dull throbbing sound. Helpful, but not near enough.
He caught a glimpse of the bouncer’s raised eyebrows as he shoved through the door on
the ground floor and made for the exit.

It distracted him enough that he didn’t see the woman until he ran her over.
“Oomph.”
Ian had the presence of mind to control their fall so she landed on his lap instead of

scraping her face all to hell on the concrete outside the door to the club, but he took the
full force of the impact. He blinked at the sky for a second while he relearned how to
breathe, but his instincts, born of too many combat situations, wouldn’t let him lie there
for long. Might as well paint a target on his forehead. He rolled to the side and
immediately got an eyeful of beautiful brunette.

She frowned down at him, the expression doing nothing to take away from her old-

school movie star looks. Why the hell was he noticing her looks right now? No doubt she
was about to rip him a new one. He braced himself—he deserved it after knocking her
down like this—but she just frowned harder and gave his shoulder a push. When he
realized he still had his arms around her, Ian climbed to his feet and pulled her up with
him. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry.”

She leaned around him and eyed the door he’d just blown through. “Where’s the fire?”
At the reminder of the scene he’d just left, his chest tightened all over again. “I don’t

want to talk about it.”

She opened her mouth—probably to deliver the scathing comment she’d held back

initially—but stopped and really looked at him. Under those green eyes, he felt stripped
bare, as if she could see every single thing he tried to hide from the rest of the world.

He hated it.
Before he could escape her scrutiny, she smiled. The change took her from gorgeous

straight into breathtaking.

“So, you kind of fail at the whole Prince Charming gig,” she said, “but think you can help

me find something to take care of this?”

She motioned, drawing his attention down her body. Ian temporarily got caught up on

the brilliant pink skirt that hugged every curve before he landed on her legs. Though he’d
taken the brunt of the fall, she’d skinned up the side of her right leg. It wasn’t a serious
injury—he’d seen more than a few of those in his time—but there was already a thin line
of blood welling along her skin.

“Shit. I am so sorry.” He looked around for the bouncer. The man still stood by the

door, his arms crossed over his massive chest. “Hey! You got a medic on staff?”

Her eyes went wide. “No, seriously. That’s really okay. I was just thinking maybe we

could find a first-aid kit.” When he moved closer, she held up a hand. “Don’t you dare
think of carrying me anywhere. It’s just a scratch—not like I lost a leg or something.”

Blood, he could handle, but loss of limb? The flashback hit so hard that it almost took

him to his knees. How one second Jones was there, the next he was laid out, both of his
legs gone. The man had made it, but Ian still had nightmares about those first few
seconds after the IED exploded, how the pale sand had been coated with red and darker
things.

“Hey.” The woman snapped her fingers in front of his face, startling him back to the

present. She was frowning again. “Are you okay?”

The fact that she had the balls to ask that when she was the one bleeding made him

fist his hands. “I’m fine.”

“Oh, I seriously doubt that, physical perfection aside.”
He was still trying to process her response when the woman touched his shoulder, the

press of her fingers opening up something in his chest. Something…freeing. Ian closed his
eyes for a moment, taking his first full breath since he entered the club hours ago.

She kept right on talking, oblivious to the change her touch brought about in him. “Are

you really okay? Because most people don’t flee a club like there’s a scary man with an ax
chasing them for no reason.”

The choice lay before him—Ian could make up an excuse and leave like a pansy, or he

could attempt to carry on a conversation with this woman without looking like he was
coming unhinged. He could tell from the look on her face that she wouldn’t let this go, so
he took another deep breath and went for a half-truth. “I hate clubs. The music is too
loud, and the crowds are too thick.”

“I can understand that.” She took a step closer and slid her hand lower, to his forearm.

Her perfume, something light and airy, wrapped around him, holding him in place more
firmly than if she’d fastened an anchor to his ankle. Between that and her fingers playing
against his skin, the pressure in his chest decreased a bit more. “The top floor has no

crowds, and they only play the most tasteful of classical music. It’s a pretty chill
atmosphere. And quite frankly, you look like you could use some chill right now. What do
you say? Want to go in and help me find a first-aid kit?”

Ian didn’t want to go back into that club, but he couldn’t make himself let go of her

hand. A nasty panic attack waited on the edges of this awareness, eating away at his
control. But damn it, he needed to make sure she got patched up. He tried to smile. “I
should probably buy you a drink, too. Seeing as how I knocked you down and all.”

“Darling, you just said the magic words.” She grinned again and gave his arm a

squeeze that made the five steps toward the door feel manageable. “I’m a sucker for a
man who wines and dines me. And if you’re lucky, I’ll even let you play doctor.”

Chapter Two

As Roxanne led the way into the club, she couldn’t help glancing back at the man
following her to make sure he was okay. He was so freaking tense she’d be surprised if
his entire body didn’t hurt tomorrow morning. Muscles weren’t meant to be locked up like
that. She should have let it go when he said he didn’t want to come back inside, but there
was something about the haunted look in his inky black eyes that called to her. She
couldn’t make herself walk away—or stop touching him.

Maybe it was the fact that she’d avoided male company for…a really long time. All that

deprivation obviously made her susceptible to a beautiful man in need. Hell, him knocking
her on her ass was the most action she’d seen in months. Even now, her skin tingled from
the memory of his body cradling hers.

Loneliness hit her hard enough to take her breath away. A few hours wouldn’t hurt,

would it? She’d just make sure he was okay, get a little recreational human interaction to
go with her Band-Aids, and then go home. Everybody won.

They stopped in front of the elevator, and though she wouldn’t have believed it

possible, he went ever tenser. Drawn by an impulse she couldn’t quite put her finger on,
Roxanne stepped closer and slid her hand into his. “It’ll be okay. I promise.” What was
she doing, making promises she had no way of following through on? Hadn’t her parents
taught her better than that?

But apparently she’d done something right, because he smiled at her, the expression

like a rainbow after a devastating thunderstorm. Damn. She abruptly decided she’d do a
whole lot more than make promises to keep him smiling like that. Before she could make
a fool of herself, the doors opened, and he followed her into the enclosed space, never
once letting go of her hand.

As they slid past the country floor, Roxanne felt a pang of guilt. She’d promised she’d

show up for her best friend’s big brother’s homecoming party, but it wasn’t like she knew
the guy. But hanging out with a golden boy war hero and bunch of his friends didn’t sound
like much fun after the day she’d had at work. She slanted a glance at the man standing
next to her, clutching her hand as if it were a lifeline and doing what she recognized as
breathing exercises.

Elle could do without her for one night.
The elevator doors opened, depositing them on the top floor. Roxanne could almost see

the muscles in his shoulders relaxing as he stepped into the dim room. There were tables
and a few couches scattered around the bar, each with their own lamp, taking up the
central part of the room. Combined with the light music, it created a sense of intimacy
and calm that couldn’t be found on any of the other floors.

She didn’t make a habit of hanging out on this floor on the rare occasions she actually

came to Gabe’s bar—what was the point of going downtown if she wasn’t going to dance
until her feet cried for mercy?—but it was definitely the right choice for this guy. She
motioned at the room. “Couch or table? Your choice.”

He hesitated but finally led the way to a fainting couch in the corner. She didn’t miss

that it was in the least populated corner of the room—or that it faced the exit. Before she
could say anything, he guided her down and knelt in front of her to examine her leg. The
feeling of his hands on her bare skin shorted out her ability to speak, the warmth of his
fingers spreading way farther north than it had any right to from the innocent touch.

God, if she was reacting to this poor guy helping her out, it really had been too long

since she’d been touched by a man—or anyone.

When he finally looked up, she was having a hard time drawing a full breath. Despite

the fact that he knelt at a totally respectable distance from her, his presence dominated
her awareness. Based on the sheer amount of muscle and the hard look of his face, she
figured this guy had seen a thing or two—not all of it good—but he rotated her calf this
way and that as if she were the most fragile thing in the world.

He took a deep breath as if steeling himself and said, “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
Before she could argue—and, really, what was she going to say?—he stood and strode

to the bar. Roxanne didn’t make a habit of playing damsel in distress, but there was no
defying the command he’d just given her. Even as she leaned back, she wondered what
the hell she was thinking. Of course, the answer was that she wasn’t thinking. She’d
taken one look at that too-pretty-to-be-real face and just…reacted. She could make
excuses and chalk it up to loneliness, but the reasoning didn’t matter. Whatever this guy
was running from, for a split second he’d needed her, and she’d responded to that need
without making a conscious decision to do it.

“Here.”
She looked up in time to accept a shot glass filled with amber liquid. He set a small

first-aid kit, two beers, and a second shot on the small table next to the couch, and knelt
in front of her to touch her leg again. He looked…anxious. Almost as anxious as he’d been
outside. But then, when he cupped her calf again, some of the wildness left his eyes and
he seemed to relax a little.

Roxanne frowned. No way did she imagine the shift in his demeanor. Did touching her

act as some kind of panic repellent? Feeling strangely hesitant, she reached out and set
her hand on his shoulder, her thumb brushing his neck. He closed his eyes and inhaled
deeply the same way he’d done on the street when she touched his arm.

Interesting.
It was only then she noticed the cloth in his hand. “You know I was just kidding about

playing doctor, right?”

“You’re bleeding.”
“It’s barely a scratch. And I do know my way around a first-aid kit.”
He glanced at her, and there wasn’t an ounce of give in those eyes. “This is my fault.

Take your shot and let me take care of you.”

His fault? Maybe, but she’d had worse done to her on accident during her Dark Days of

Partying after she turned twenty-one, and not a single one of those guys had cared. Hell,
she hadn’t really cared either. It wasn’t like he shoved her down on purpose, and she
wasn’t all that good at letting other people take care of her—especially strangers who
handled her as if she really mattered.

But she knew a losing battle when she saw one. Keeping one hand on his neck,

Roxanne toasted him and downed her shot, trying not to hiss when he pressed the warm
cloth to her leg. Okay, that hurt. A lot.

She reached for her beer next, the move bringing her face-to-face with this stranger.

She froze, pinned in place by the heat in his gaze. Holy shit, where had that come from?
One second, he looked ready to bolt, and now… She’d heard about those romance-novel
looks—the ones the hero pulls out to turn the heroine’s knees to putty—but she’d never
believed they existed. Considering the entire all-consuming-lust-that-turns-to-love-and-
ends-happily-ever-after scene was bullshit, she figured the look was all part of the fiction.

She was so freaking wrong.
Then he blinked, turning down the heat enough to release her from his spell. She sat

back, trying to convince herself that her hands weren’t really shaking. That she didn’t
want him with a desire that wasn’t the least bit rational. But she did. God, she did. And it
didn’t make any sense. Sure, he was by far the most handsome man she’d ever talked to,
but Roxanne didn’t make a habit of being swept away by looks alone.

“Did I ruin your plans for tonight?” As he spoke, he carefully cleaned away the blood,

revealing a small scrape. Damn, she was going to have to wear boots or tights until that
thing healed.

Focus, Rox. She sipped her beer, striving to sound unaffected even though she felt

nothing of the sort. It was kind of difficult to play hard-to-get when running her fingers
along his hairline at the top of his neck. But if her touch actually soothed him, she had no
intention of leaving him hanging.

Not to mention she was enjoying touching him entirely too much to be safe.
“Nothing too important.” After all, she didn’t really have any connection with Elle’s

brother. She was just there for her best friend. Speaking of… “Just a second.” Roxanne
pulled out her phone and typed in a quick text to Elle.

Something came up, so I can’t make it. Coffee tomorrow to make it up to you?
Her phone buzzed almost immediately. You aren’t missing much. It’s a train wreck.

We’ll talk more in the morning.

Maybe it was good thing she skipped it, after all. She dropped her phone into her purse

and dredged up a smile. “So, Charming, what’s a guy like you doing in a place like
Spokane?”

“Charming, huh?” He smiled a little, but those shadows slid through his eyes, hinting

that he had a whole lot more going on than just a pretty face. “I’m military.”

Ah, that explained the crazy tension thing he had going on. Despite the fact that she

probably couldn’t throw a rock in Spokane without hitting someone associated with the
Air Force base just outside of town, she didn’t make a habit of associating with men in
uniform. They tended to have issues, and she had enough issues for multiple people.

Even now, there was a little voice inside her—one that sounded terrifyingly like her

mother—that whispered for her to run away from this man. She’d never thrown caution to
the wind before when it came to a stranger, even one who looked like Adonis, but despite
the shadows in his eyes and the demons he was obviously fighting, Roxanne could almost
see the sexual tension straining between them. He was staring at her like he wanted to
eat her whole, and she was more than okay with that plan.

He ran his thumb parallel to the scrape, that small contact sending sparks shooting

through her entire body. Who knew the calf was such an erogenous zone? She cleared her
throat. “You didn’t take your shot.”

Without missing a beat, he downed the shot and then sat next to her, close enough

that his thigh pressed against hers and he had to prop his arm on the back of the couch
behind her. The added contact of his bare arm against her back did wonders for her
dancing hormones. If she wasn’t careful, she could get addicted to how touching this man
made her feel.

A frisson of fear spiked through her. When was the last time someone had affected her

on the same level as this guy? Who’d made her entire body heat with just a look?

She couldn’t remember.
Run, her mother’s voice whispered, more insistent this time. She knew what happened

when people let their emotions get away from them—she’d seen the wreckage every day
while she was growing up. Her mother had always claimed the reason things with her
father went so far south was that they’d loved each other too much to begin with. No one
could hold up that kind of love indefinitely, and there was no stopping it from souring,
from turning into something a whole lot closer to hate.

Yeah, she’d seen what came from caring for someone too much. Roxanne had no desire

to experience the kind of pain that came with loving someone.

She pushed her worries away. It didn’t matter if he seemed to affect her on a

foundational level—he was a stranger. She’d never see him again after tonight. With that
knowledge freeing up the last of her restraint, she leaned into him and laid her hand on
his thigh, just high enough that his entire body went still. Pretending she didn’t notice,

she said, “So, what do you do for fun?”

“Fun?”
“Yeah, you know. That thing you do when you’re not working. Gardening, Zumba,

underwater basket weaving, you name it. Everyone has something.”

“I haven’t really had a lot of time for hobbies.” When she just stared, more than willing

to wait him out, he sighed. “I spend a lot of time in the gym.”

Yeah, she could tell. There didn’t seem to be a soft spot on his body, though she was

tempted to do a more thorough examination just to satisfy her curiosity. “Do you wear
spandex, grunt a lot, and slap other guys’ asses while you mutter encouragement?”

“Actually, I usually just run until my thoughts stop circling.”
There it was again, that hint of something darker. “Is that the only thing that helps?”
“I’ve been told that I should try meditating, but all that time sitting still and being alone

with my thoughts…” He shook his head. “I like to sweat out my stress. And this helps.” He
motioned between them.

Whoa. So she hadn’t been imagining the way he seemed to relax the more he touched

her. Caution warned her to keep things light and flirty. “I bet you say that to all the pretty
girls.”

“Only you.”
His low voice, paired with the smoldering way he was looking at her, damn near had

Roxanne fanning herself. She scrambled for something to say that didn’t involve “sex” and
“now.” What were they talking about? Oh, right. Exercise. “I get it—the whole sweating it
out thing. I do yoga. Concentrating on breathing, and perfecting and holding the poses,
actually takes a lot more effort than you’d think. It’s my happy place.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard it’s great for that. I’m not exactly a yoga guy though.”
“What? You mean you don’t want to work on your flexibility? I’m so disappointed.”
His grin was quick and wicked. “The advantage to being the guy is that I don’t have to

be as flexible as my partner does.”

The image his words brought appeared in her mind, of her heels propped on his

shoulders as he bent her in half, leaving her open and helpless. She wanted that. She
wanted that badly.

Roxanne took a long drink, maintaining eye contact as she did. Then she leaned across

his body to set her beer on the opposite table, letting her breasts press against his chest.
It was a rookie move, but his breath caught in the same way hers did at the contact. She
slid back into place slowly, prolonging the touch. “Good thing I’m flexible then.”

His gaze dropped to her mouth, and for a long moment, she thought he might make a

move. Though part of her really wanted him to lean in and kiss her until she couldn’t think
straight, there was another, more intelligent part of her that wanted to know more about
him first. “You ever think about just taking off? You know, settle down on some deserted

beach somewhere where there aren’t a ton of people?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Every damn day.”
She understood, at least on some level. One of the things she’d always done when the

fighting between her mother and the current love of her mother’s life got too intense was
put her headphones on and plan out all the vacations she’d take—ones she would never
come back from. If this guy had difficulty dealing with city life—or whatever passed as it
in Spokane—she could see why he’d want to get away. “I’m not going to say I totally
understand, since I have no idea what your thought process is, but in your place I’d have
considered a nice little beachside property in Mexico.”

“Hawaii.”
Totally not the answer she expected. “What?”
“I considered Hawaii. Or maybe Florida. I’ve seen enough of the world to know that I

wanted to be in the States.” He shifted, looking uncomfortable, as if he’d just shared
something he hadn’t meant to. “What about you? Have you traveled?”

“Not as much as I’d like to.” She shrugged. It was the great irony of her life that she’d

spent so much time wishing to be anywhere but Spokane, and this was exactly where
she’d stayed. “I go where my work is, and right now, my work is in Spokane. Business is
slowly expanding, though, so I hope there will be more opportunity for traveling in the
future.”

Despite her general distaste for everything involving weddings, she’d put out an ad in a

local magazine to drum up business. In this economy, weddings were one of the few
areas of party planning that hadn’t taken a hit. If she wanted to keep her lifestyle, she
had to do more than plan sweet-sixteen bashes and corporate parties.

“Do you like your job?”
She started to give him a generic answer, but he actually looked interested. “There are

days when I want to light my office on fire and walk away without looking back, but they
are few and far between. Most of the time I love it.”

“Tell me about it.”
Yeah, she didn’t think so. Though Roxanne had wanted to know more about this guy,

she  didn’t  particularly  want  to  share  more  about  herself.  Even  giving  him  those  few
details,  she  felt  strangely  vulnerable.  Besides,  what  more  did  they  really  need  to  know
about  each  other?  He  was  obviously  interested  in  her,  and  just  sitting  next  to  him  was
some of the best foreplay she’d ever had in her life.

She gave his thigh a squeeze and bit her lip. “I don’t think I will.”
He tore his gaze away from her mouth, but it seemed to take a lot of effort. “Why not?”
This was her last chance to pat him on the head and walk away. In the twenty minutes

they’d been here, this man had already managed to connect with her on a level she
wasn’t completely comfortable with. If she didn’t leave now, this entire thing could

backfire.

But then he twined a lock of her hair around his finger, his thumb running along the

strand and making her want him to touch other parts of her body the same way.

She swallowed, trying to reclaim her bravado. “Let me ask you something, and I’d like

you to be perfectly honest. Sound good?”

“Sure.”
“Ideally, how’s tonight end for you?” When he stared, she snapped her fingers in front

of his face. No way was she giving him time to come up with some careful, PC answer.
She wanted the truth. “Answer. Now.”

She got exactly what she was looking for. He met her gaze directly. “With you bent

over the nearest available surface and me fucking you until we both forget our names.”

Chapter Three

For  a  second,  Ian  thought  he’d  misread  the  situation.  Her  eyes  went  wide,  something
flaring in their green depths. Disappointment soured the whiskey in his stomach, but he
tried  to  sit  back  and  look  as  nonthreatening  as  possible—which  wasn’t  easy  since  he
couldn’t  quite  make  himself  break  the  physical  contact  between  them.  Yes,  she  was
gorgeous, and yes, he wanted her just as he’d told her—naked and bent over the nearest
available surface.

But it was more than that.
Ian wanted her naked and wrapped around him because merely touching her kept the

darkness inside him at bay. Made him feel at ease for the first time in as long as he could
remember. How much better would this strange connection between them work if he
could touch more of her? Not to mention she was the most interesting woman he’d met in
years. He wasn’t ready to let her go. Not yet.

But if she didn’t want this, he could and would control himself. After all, he’d done

enough damage to this woman tonight, between bowling her over and getting her cut up
from the asphalt.

It’d serve him right if she told him to fuck off and walked away.
But she smiled at him as if he’d just given a really brilliant answer. “Wonderful.”
Ian held his breath, barely daring to hope she meant what he thought she meant. He

felt like her damn hand was imprinted on his thigh, bringing both peace and a nearly
overwhelming need, but he still didn’t move. He couldn’t afford to misread this situation.
“And that’s wonderful because…?”

She rotated her body away from the door and scooted closer to him on the couch, her

pink  skirt  riding  up  until  it  would  take  the  barest  of  nudges  to  see  if  she  wore  panties
under  it—something  he’d  been  dying  to  know  since  he  first  knelt  in  front  of  her.  She
moved her hand farther up this thigh, the contact burning through his jeans and making
his  cock  throb.  When  he  swallowed,  her  grin  widened.  Oh,  yeah.  The  little  brat  knew
exactly what she was doing to him.

That she could switch so easily from drawing out things he never meant to say aloud—

like the fact that he spent considerable time fantasizing about taking off and never
coming back—to this level of teasing only made her more enticing.

She drummed her nails on his thigh, each little contact stoking his need for her higher.

“It’s wonderful because I want the same thing. So why don’t we skip the small talk?”

“Get right down to business, you mean?”
“Honey, if it feels like business, you’re doing something wrong.”
Moving slowly, Ian hooked a hand around the back of her neck and drew her closer. He

stopped just short of kissing her, enjoying the way her breath stuttered and her nails dug
into his jeans. Here, this close, their breath intermingled, and the faint scent of the
whiskey they’d both drunk teased him. He wanted to taste her, to explore her mouth and
take his time.

She took the decision away from him, closing the last bit of distance between them and

nipping his bottom lip. That small pain was like a match igniting his desire. Helpless to
resist his need for her, he abandoned his plan to take things slow. Their lips met, and
there was no teasing, no beating around the bush. She opened for him immediately, her
tongue swiping his, taking as much as he could give. It made him wonder if her boldness
would extend past kissing.

The pressure in his chest loosened another notch. It was more than the promise of sex,

more than just physical need driving him—

No, he wasn’t going to ruin this by thinking too much. She wanted him. He wanted her.

They’d figure the rest out as they went.

Even knowing going down this path might end horribly, Ian pressed her palm against

the bulge in his jeans, letting her feel how much he wanted her. She broke the kiss long
enough to say, “Is that a giant freaking banana in your pocket, or are you as ready to get
out of this club as I am?”

He laughed and reclaimed her mouth. Though it could be chalked up to them having

just met, he suspected he could know this woman for years and still be surprised at the
things that she said.

She stroked him through his jeans as he slid his free hand up her leg, desperate to have

the answer to the panties question. When he hesitated at the hem of her skirt, she gave
a breathy moan he felt more than heard. He traced the path of skin on her thigh just
south of the hemline, and she tilted her hips as if inviting him to take more. That decided
it. Ian slipped his hand beneath her skirt and groaned when he found her bare. She was
hot and wet and more than ready for him.

As he stroked her tongue with his, he worked her with his fingers, zeroing in on her clit,

unwilling to move from this spot until he felt her come apart in his arms.

…

If he kept it up, Roxanne was going to explode right here, on a couch in the middle of a
bar. Sure, their backs were to the wall, and thanks to a few well-placed shadows, she was
pretty sure no one could see, but all it would take is for some server to wander over and
they’d get an eyeful.

She loved every second of it.
“You are so goddamn wet.” He made an appreciative noise deep in his throat and

thrust two fingers deep within her. Roxanne angled a little farther away from the rest of

the bar and opened her legs wider, giving him better access. Oh God, that felt good. Too
good. Too much. Not enough. She didn’t even know anymore.

She broke the kiss and gasped as she went under, the orgasm crashing into her with

the strength of a hurricane-force wind. He tucked her face against his neck, his fingers
drawing out the aftershocks until she was a shaking mess.

And she wanted nothing more than to do it again, even with the voice inside her

screaming warnings. Even though all he’d done was work her until she came, it felt like a
whole lot more than sex. Maybe it was because she knew he had a past that haunted
him, just like she did. They were like messed-up kindred spirits.

Knowing that sent another shock of fear through her, dampening her afterglow. But

then  she  raised  her  head  to  find  him  looking  at  her  with  the  smuggest,  most  satisfied
male  expression  she’d  ever  seen.  He  leaned  forward  and  spoke  in  her  ear,  his  voice
carrying a growl that sent a bolt of need through her so intense that it was everything she
could  do  not  to  grab  his  hand  and  press  it  back  between  her  legs.  “I’m  dying  to  taste
every inch of you, and you will be coming on my mouth tonight.”

Oh. My. God.
Screw worrying about future problems that she’d never have to deal with. They had to

get out of here—right now—or she was going to unzip his pants and climb onto his lap,
and then they’d both end up in jail for public indecency.

“Let’s go.” She inched her skirt down and pushed to her feet, wobbling in a way that

had nothing to do with booze. “Come on.”

His gaze raked up her body, as if memorizing the path some part of his body would

take later, and he rose with a predatory grace. “Go.”

There was a threat and a promise in that one word. From the way he moved, he was

going to take her when he got hold of her, regardless of where they were.

Oh, hot damn.
A bolt of pure desire shot through her body as she backed away, bumping into a chair

as she did. She ignored the pain radiating through her hip and kept moving, stopping just
inside the elevator doors.

“Come get me,” she mouthed.
His eyes flared and he started making his way to her, but the doors slid closed before

he could get there.

Holy. Crap. Roxanne took a shuddering breath. As the elevator descended, she

smoothed her hair back and tried to look like she just hadn’t had a top-five orgasm in the
middle of a club with all her clothes on. What to do when she reached the ground floor?
Should she bolt? Would this man really put that much effort into chasing her? And if she
ran, where could she go to make sure he found her?

Five floors left.

Obviously, she was putting too much thought into this. She’d just walk out the front

door. If he caught up with her, he caught up with her. If he didn’t, well, at least she got a
fantastic orgasm out of the deal.

Oh, the lies she told herself to be okay.
The numbers ticked down.
Two floors to go.
One.
Roxanne tried out a smile in the reflective surface of the doors, but it looked shaky at

best. Then the doors rolled open and there he was, leaning against the wall across from
the elevator as if he hadn’t just sprinted down ten flights of stairs. A slow smile spread
over his face at the sight of her.

For a second, she just stood there. But then the doors tried to close, jarring her out of

shock. Damn. She was most definitely in over her head. There was only one thing to do
about it—brazen her way through this and deal with the consequences tomorrow. She
walked toward him as if she owned the place, stopping just out of reach. “Impressive.”

“I live to please.” Damn, he didn’t even sound out of breath. She would have been a

panting, sweating mess if she’d done the same thing.

“That remains to be seen.” When he reached for her, she jumped sideways and slid

past him and out the front door. A giggle escaped her throat as he cursed. She made it
three steps down the sidewalk before he hooked an arm around her waist, spun her
around, and lifted her clean off her feet. Another laugh slipped free.

While one arm branded her lower back, keeping her plastered against his chest, he

looped the other under her ass and lifted her until their mouths were even. “You like
being chased.”

A fact she hadn’t known until a few minutes ago. She looped her arms around his neck.

“Maybe.”

He looked around. “You have a car around here?”
“Two blocks east and a block south, on Washington and Second.”
“Good enough.” He tossed her over his shoulder.
“Holy shit.”
He slid a hand up her skirt. “Careful there. If you move too much, I might drop you.”
She froze, a whimper escaping when he pushed two fingers into her. “That’s not fair.

Someone might see.” Heat shot through her body at the very thought.

“Think so?” He pressed a kiss to her bare thigh as they rounded the corner. They

reached her car all too soon, and he took his time sliding her down his body. As soon as
her feet touched the ground, he pressed her against the car and took her mouth.

God, the things this man did to her, and they’d barely gotten started.
She unbuttoned his pants and took him in hand, needing him to feel as out of control as

she did right now. He rested his forehead on hers, his eyes closed, his breathing jagged.
When was the last time he’d been with someone? She decided it didn’t matter. He was
here with her, fighting for control exactly the way she was.

He stilled her hand with his own. “I need you.”
Roxanne smiled, doing her damnedest not to acknowledge how deeply his words rocked

her. Because, even though she should really know better, for a second she almost
convinced herself he wasn’t talking solely about sex. But that’s all this was—all it could
be. “Then take me.”

“I know somewhere we can go. Unlock your car.”
“You think we can actually last long enough to make it to wherever you’re taking me?”
He grinned, the flash of humor surprising her just as much as the last one had. “I

wouldn’t take that bet.”

“Me either.”

Chapter Four

Roxanne made him drive so she could have her hands free. Or, rather, so she could have
her hands full of him.

“You’re really tempting fate right now.” He inhaled sharply as she stroked him. “Or is it

your goal to have me drag your ass into the backseat before we get three blocks?”

“Hmmm?” God, he felt good. She ran her nails lightly along the underside of his cock.

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

The veins on his arms stood out, and his knuckles were white in the passing lights. “I

bet you don’t.” She went to unbuckle her seatbelt, but he stopped her with a hand on
hers. “Keep it on.”

“You’re joking.”
“Do I look like I’m joking?”
No, he looked like a man about to lose control, his eyes wild and his body tense, as if

he didn’t trust himself. And yet he was still managing to worry about her buckling up for
safety. She didn’t know whether to find that endearing or annoying. “Okay, fine.”

The seatbelt would impede what she wanted to do, but she’d work around it. Having

him this close and available was too much temptation to resist. Roxanne slid down in her
seat, thankful that the center console wasn’t huge.

“What are you—” He gave a muffled groan when she squeezed his cock on the

upstroke. “Christ.”

She decided she liked the way he sounded when he was losing control, so she swirled

her finger around his tip again. She stroked him, spurred on by every harsh breath and
every curse that came out of his mouth. So into watching what she was doing, she
actually startled when the car stopped and he fisted his hands in her hair. He allowed her
two more pumps before he pulled her hand off him and drew her into a kiss that was so
desperate it curled her toes.

“I can’t wait any longer.”
Well, hell, she wasn’t all that interested in waiting either. She glanced out the window.

They’d barely made it three blocks. No way would they manage to get wherever he was
taking them. “How far away are we?”

“Too far.”
Yeah, she thought so, too. A slow smile spread over her face. “There’s a little hotel just

around the corner. Take a left, and then a left on Monroe. It’s on First.” It’d take all of two
minutes to get there. In the meantime…

She dug through her purse, coming up with one of the condoms she’d shoved in there a

few weeks ago. After rolling it over his cock, she unbuckled her seatbelt and climbed into

his lap. He opened his mouth but anything he might’ve said dissolved into a low groan as
she sank onto his length. When his hands fell to her waist, Roxanne laughed. “Drive,
cowboy.”

“You can’t seriously expect me to drive while you’re doing that with your hips.”
She sucked on his earlobe, dragging her teeth over the sensitive skin. “Drive, or I stop

what I’m doing.”

“Jesus Christ.” He maneuvered her to one side and took a deep breath that came out

totally uneven. “Okay. I can do this.”

“Better hurry. This feels so damn good, I could come right now.”
He gripped her chin, forcing her back until she could meet his eyes. Gone was the

slightly desperate man she’d had so much fun prodding, replaced by something else
entirely. Something dangerous. “You will hold off until we’re at that hotel.”

“And if I don’t?” Pleasure already spiraled through her, spiking from the nearly bruising

force of his fingers, from the fact they were in the front seat of her car, in the middle of
the street. “What will you do then?”

“Then I call a cab, and I go home without finishing this.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Then call my bluff.”
She froze, her entire body pulsing at the very idea. If she only got one night with him,

she’d be damned before it was cut short. “Hurry.”

“That, I can do.” He tucked her face against his neck and threw the car into gear.

Despite his free hand urging her on, fingers digging into her ass, he didn’t speed through
the streets. She shoved his shirt up, needing to feel more of his skin against hers. With
each down stroke, her clit rubbed against him, the sheer pleasure threatening to
overwhelm her.

No, no, no. She couldn’t come. Roxanne tried to pull back, to slow down, but he held

her in place, forcing her to keep up the rhythm. “Charming, I—”

“Almost there.”
Oh God. She was going to come, and then he’d leave. “Please.” Even as she begged,

her hips kept up the rhythm guaranteed to send her over the edge. It was too good to
stop, no matter the threat hanging over her head.

He cursed and pulled into the hotel’s tiny parking lot. Within seconds, he parked and

shut off the car, and then both his hands were on her hips. “Come for me.”

As if her body had been waiting for his command, her orgasm rocked her to her very

soul. And then it kept going, wave after wave hitting as he moved against her, prolonging
the pleasure until it damn near hurt. She slumped against him, shaking so hard she was
pretty damn sure she wouldn’t be able to walk the distance it would take to get a room.

He kissed her forehead, the intimacy of that tiny move rocking her nearly as deeply as

the orgasm had. Hadn’t Marilyn Monroe said something about a real lover being able to
thrill you with a forehead kiss? This didn’t feel like a thrill. This felt like he’d reached past
every single one of her barriers and touched her damn soul.

He spoke, drawing her out of her spiral. “Wasn’t that worth the wait?”
“I can’t feel my legs.”
He ran his hands up the outside of her thighs, drawing out a sigh. “I think you’ll recover

just fine. Which is good, because I’m just getting started.”

She belatedly realized he was still hard inside her. “Holy shit.”
“You’re welcome.” He lifted her and set her back in the passenger seat. “I’ll get us a

room and be right back.”

She nodded, watching as he cleaned himself up and got out of the car, wondering what

the hell she was getting herself into.

…

Ian took in the hotel room in a single glance—couch, chair, king-size bed. Typical hotel,
though the view wasn’t too shabby. He’d originally been planning on taking her to the
house he’d bought before moving back here, but this would do. Besides, the damn place
was still in pretty rough shape and didn’t have a single piece of furniture in it—not exactly
the best place to bring a woman he was intent on taking again and again until they were
both too exhausted to move.

He guided her onto the bed and pulled off her heels. How the hell could she walk in

those things? He appreciated how sexy they looked, though. When he tugged on her
bunched-up skirt, she lifted her hips. “Zipper.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He had the skirt off in record time, quickly followed by her shirt and bra.

Naked, she stretched out, giving him an eyeful. And what a fucking eyeful it was.
Impossibly long legs, a flared waist that perfectly fit his hands, breasts he could spend all
night worshipping. Christ, she was something else.

“Like what you see?”
“You know I do.”
She twirled her fingers. “Your turn. Lose the clothes.”
He stripped off his shirt, all too aware of her eyes on him.
He worked out almost compulsively—it was only thing that quieted his thoughts when

they started spinning out of control. So he ran or lifted weights until everything
disappeared, until he could only concentrate on the next rep, the next mile. And then he
worked out some more.

He still couldn’t believe he’d told her about sweating away his demons. He didn’t tell

anyone that stuff. Admitting to his many weaknesses was too personal to do with friends,
and he didn’t like to worry his family. He was dealing with it—more or less—so there was

no need to scare them over something they couldn’t control.

Ian reached down and hooked the back of her knees, toppling her back onto the bed.

He ran his fingers over her stomach and circled his thumb over her clit. She rocked
against him and he closed his eyes, trying to remember all the reasons why unprotected
sex wasn’t an option. His cock wasn’t listening. “I don’t suppose you have more
condoms?”

“I’m on this newfangled thing called birth control. Since I haven’t been with anyone

since the last time I got tested, I’m good there, too.” She patted his arm. “I promise
you’re safe from big, bad me. You?”

He didn’t want to admit how long it had been for him, but that didn’t stop his instinctive

balking at the idea of putting this woman at risk. Even after the short time they’d spent
together, he found himself wanting to… Hell, he wasn’t sure what he wanted. “I wouldn’t
have let it get this far if I wasn’t sure I was safe.”

“Then why are we wasting time talking about this?”
Fuck, yeah. He slid an arm under her waist and lifted her hips, then shoved into her,

sheathing himself to the hilt. “Christ, you feel good.” Even better than in the car. Having
her wrapped around him like this, her hips rising to meet his thrusts, silenced his demons
completely. For the first time in as long as he could remember, his entire world narrowed
down to the present.

The past and all its shadows had no place here.
He focused on her completely. On the way her back arched with each stroke. On the

hazy look in her eyes. On how her very scent drove him wild. He was close. Too close.

Needing her to finish again before he let himself go, he circled her clit with his thumb

again. She thrashed as a keening sound came from her throat. “Charming.” She threw her
head back, her entire body going tense. Then and only then did he give into the need to
pound into her, pressure building until he finally let go completely. His release shot
through him, taking with it all his tension and worries and thoughts.

He slumped next to her, their breathing harsh in his ears. “Jesus Christ.”
She laughed hoarsely. “That about sums it up.”
He lay there, listening to their harsh breathing for a few seconds. “My name is Ian.” She

frowned and opened her mouth to say something, but he beat her to the punch. “Next
time you come, you’re going to say my name.”

She looked down for a long moment before meeting his gaze. A small smile pulled at

the edges of her lips, making him want to kiss her all over again. “I think I can manage
that.”

“Good.” Suddenly exhausted, he let his eyes drift shut. She wasn’t close enough,

though. He pulled her against him so her back was against his chest. For a second, she
tensed up, but just when he was about to let go, she relaxed with a sigh. The tension in

Chapter Five

Ian  reached  across  the  bed  for  his  woman,  needing  to  feel  her  in  his  arms  again.  Even
half-asleep,  he  felt  her  loss  keenly.  When  all  he  encountered  was  rumpled  sheets,  he
opened his eyes, immediately blinking against the bright sunlight filtering through gauzy
curtains  on  the  far  side  of  the  room.  Sunlight?  What  time  was  it?  He  rolled  over  and
squinted  at  a  neon  green  clock  perched  on  the  nightstand.  “Holy  shit.”  Ten  in  the
morning.

Which meant he’d slept damn near eight hours.
No wonder he felt like he’d just shotgunned two 5-hour Energy drinks. He couldn’t

remember the last time he’d slept so long, which probably wasn’t a good sign. The
therapist the Army had forced on him sure as hell didn’t think so, but what did she know?
She sat in her chair, dressed in suits that had never seen a smudge, glasses perched at
exactly the right angle for her to look down on him. She said she knew what he was going
through, but she didn’t know a damn thing outside of her textbooks. The woman would
piss herself if she ever had the misfortune to stumble into the middle of real combat.

He climbed out of bed, wishing he could leave behind the memories as easily as the

rumpled sheets. Last night he hadn’t been thinking about nightmares, though. Last night
his entire world had been consumed with her. Which didn’t make a whole lot of sense.
The few times he’d tried it since his first tour, sleeping next to someone usually left him
edgy and exhausted, but right now he couldn’t imagine feeling better rested. There was
something about that woman that eased him in a way he’d never thought possible—
especially with a stranger. As stupid as it sounded, with her he’d actually felt safe. Small
wonder that the result had been a full night’s sleep and the corresponding energy boost.
Hell, running a marathon sounded like a great idea.

No. On second thought, he had a better idea. Surely she would be up for another round

—or three? His entire body leaped to attention. Yes, another round with her—right after
he got her damn name—would do wonders for his morning.

Ian pulled on his jeans and rounded the bright red wall. The bathroom door stood open

and empty. What the hell? He turned around as if he actually had just walked past her
sitting on the couch, but the rest of the room was just as empty as the bathroom. As he
was turning around again, a piece of white taped to the door caught his eye. He read it,
frowned, and read it again.

Ian-

Thanks for last night. I think we both needed it.

- R

P.S. Cab fare and the cabbie’s number are on the nightstand.

He stalked back to the nightstand, his stomach in knots as he took in the twenty sitting

there. No way. She did not leave him cab fare as if he were some whore who’d shown her
a good time, which was exactly how he felt right now. Yes, he’d been looking for a
distraction last night, so the end result would have been the same, but there was no
denying the sting of how she’d handled this. Christ, couldn’t she at least have woken him
up before she left?

But, no, she’d sneaked off, leaving a note behind like a fucking coward. He dropped the

cash onto the coffee table. He might be kind of screwed up in the head, but he wasn’t a
goddamn charity case. That this woman—the same woman he’d just been thinking had
made him feel safe—seemed to think so stuck in his throat like a knife. The money on the
table tainted the memory of the entire night. He wanted to find her, to shake her, to
remind her how she’d begged him last night to take her again and again. But how could
he? He didn’t even know her goddamn name.

Stalking back to the bed, he rubbed his chest as if that would dissipate the pressure

settling there, and dug his phone out of his jacket. He yanked on his shoes as Nathan
picked up. “What?”

“You ditch out on the welcome home party I didn’t want in the first place, and that is

how you answer the phone when I call?”

“When you’re calling before noon on a Saturday, yes. So, I repeat—what?”
Despite everything, Ian smiled. He’d missed the bastard. “I need a ride.”
“Where are you?”
He read off the address on the stationery, trying to ignore the handwriting just below it

that seemed to taunt him. He needed to get over it, though. It was finished, so there was
no point in dwelling.

Easier said than done.
“I’ll be there in twenty.” Nathan hung up before Ian could say anything else.
Calling Elle obviously wasn’t an option under these circumstances, but he would rather

have called Nathan anyway. Nathan would come, no questions asked, regardless of the
time or circumstances. After what they’d been through, Ian wouldn’t hesitate to do the
same.

He glanced at the note and shook his head. No number. She couldn’t have been clearer

than if she’d actually written “Thanks for the sex, now let’s pretend this never happened.”
It should have made him happy—a relationship was the last thing he wanted or needed
right now—but instead of relief, slow and steady anger built in him.

He was dressed and waiting outside when Nathan pulled up. The man didn’t look like

he’d spent a relaxing night at home. In fact, he looked like he’d been on a worse bender
than Ian had last night. He raised his eyebrows as Ian climbed into his truck.

“Apparently the homecoming party went better than expected,” Nathan said. “What’d

Elle have to say about that?”

“She doesn’t know.” Picturing what his sister would say if she found out, he winced.

“She doesn’t need to know.”

“Then you might want to do something about that hickey on your neck.”
Ian made a conscious effort not to reach up to where he could still feel her mouth on

him. “Maybe I’ll just wear a scarf for a few days.”

“You’re on the wrong side of the state to take up dressing like a hipster.” Nathan shook

his head, a small smile breaking through the exhaustion plain on his face. “It’s good to
have you home.”

He wished he could say it was good to be home, but he and Nathan never lied to each

other. Yes, they occasionally omitted the hell out of things, but that was a different story
altogether. “How’ve you been?”

“Same old, same old. I was planning on coming last night, but I hit the point of no

return on my newest piece and I couldn’t leave.”

This was a side of Nathan he hadn’t seen. Though his best friend had talked about art a

lot while they were in Iraq, it wasn’t until he got out of the military that he finally
followed his true calling. Most people didn’t get that chance, and Ian was genuinely happy
for him. He’d be happier, though, if he thought Nathan was equally happy. “You didn’t
miss much.”

“Yeah, Gabe mentioned you left early—without saying anything to anyone.” Nathan

cleared his throat. “So, uh, how’re you adjusting?”

Christ, he didn’t want to talk about this, not in the wake of what happened. He

shrugged, trying to keep the tension from his body. “I’m fine. It’s just…”

“Not as easy as you expected.”
“Yeah.” Exactly.
“It’ll get easier.”
Considering Nathan must have had the same adjustment issues Ian was going through

four years ago, he figured the guy knew what he was talking about. Still, this was fucking
awkward. “Good to know.”

“Yep.” Nathan nodded and changed the subject, obviously as uncomfortable talking

about this shit as Ian was. “Are you still planning on crashing with Elle until you get
everything settled with your house?”

Spending time at his sister’s—knowing Gabe would be with her—after the fiasco of last

night sounded like a special kind of hell. Then again, crashing at his parents’ wasn’t much
of an option either. He loved his parents, but with everything he was dealing with, having
his mom try to micromanage every aspect of his life sounded even worse than having to
face the fact Elle was practically living with a thug. “That was the plan.”

Nathan must have heard the hesitance in his voice. “There’s another option, if you’re

interested. I have a loft above the gallery. I usually only use it when I’m neck-deep in a
project or I work late at the gallery, so it’s empty and quiet. You can crash there as long
as you need.”

He wouldn’t have to face his mother’s meddling or run the risk of losing his temper with

Elle’s new man. Ian already knew how that could backfire, having gotten a taste of her
unhappiness after he’d beat the crap out of her piece-of-shit ex. By taking his family out
of the equation, he’d have some time to breathe and find his balance. Maybe then he
could actually let go of how pissed he was over how this morning turned out. “I’d really
appreciate that.”

Nathan pulled a U-turn at the next intersection. “I thought you might. Now, let’s get

some coffee, and you can fill me in on your misadventures last night.”

…

Roxanne sat at the tiny table while Elle ordered, wishing she hadn’t pushed for a coffee
date this morning. Of course, when she’d send that text from the club last night, she
hadn’t considered that she’d be coming from a hotel where she’d just spent what was
quite possibly the best night of her life.

With Elle’s brother.
As soon as he’d said his name, the terrifying thought had taken root. Ian wasn’t exactly

the most common of names, and what were the odds there’d be two different Ians at
Gabe’s club on the same night? And then there was the panic attacks and the fact he was
military. The more she’d thought about it, the more her suspicion had cemented into
something closer to truth.

Roxanne shifted in her seat, all too aware of how her body ached from the things they’d

done. And, God, she wanted more. So much more. The sex had been possibly the best in
her life. Oh, who was she kidding? No one else she’d ever been with could come close to
making her feel like Ian had in one night. Not to mention he’d needed her. That was why,
even with her own panic demanding she run as far and fast as she could, she hadn’t left
until he’d fallen asleep deeply enough to release her hand.

Then she’d sneaked off like a thief in the night.
She shook her head and took a drink of her quad white mocha. It didn’t matter how

good the sex was—she knew how these things ended. She’d start caring too much, they’d
end up falling in love, and the man would leave. The specifics on why the relationships
failed varied—cheating, lying, feeling smothered—but the men all left pretty quickly after
saying “I love you.”

Just like Mom said they would.
“Are you trying to torture me?” Elle leaned forward, propping her elbows on the table.

She looked freshly scrubbed and peppy—exactly the opposite of how Roxanne felt. Her

best friend grinned, blue eyes dancing. “You say you met a guy, and now you won’t tell
me anything about him. Is this revenge for my holding back the details about Gabe?”

How the hell was she going to deal with this? No way on God’s green earth could she

admit the truth to Elle. If Ian was who she believed him to be—and she was about 99.9
percent certain he was—avoiding him would only work for so long before her best friend
started getting suspicious. Elle wasn’t an idiot.

It would just figure that the one man who’d make her reconsider her one-night stand

rule was totally off-limits.

Maybe it was time for a change of scenery? Her business was totally portable. She

could plan parties anywhere in the world—preferably somewhere far, far away where
she’d never have to worry about running into Ian. She’d just have to make the move fast.

Like today.
Roxanne swirled her drink. Where the hell would she move? Definitely not Canada—

she’d be perfectly content never having to worry about badger maulings. Not Montana
either, for the same reason. Florida might be nice this time of year…

Annnnd she’d definitely been quiet too long. “I’m sorry about skipping the party.”
Elle waved that away. “Like I said in my text, it was a mess. Mom was in rare form and

harping on my brother every time he turned around, despite the fact a blind man could
have seen how miserable he was. Gabe tried to help, but I think he just made it worse.
You didn’t miss anything.” She sipped her coffee. “Stop stalling. Tell me what happened
last night.”

Florida was looking better by the second. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Oh my God, you slept with him!”
“Elle, hush.” Roxanne looked around the coffee shop, but as usual, there wasn’t anyone

other than Marge, the old woman who ran the store in the mornings. Unlike Starbucks,
this little hole-in-the-wall place didn’t get a ton of traffic. She and Elle liked it because it
was close to both the gallery and Roxanne’s office, and they usually had the place to
themselves. Not to mention the coffee was the best she’d ever had.

“Was it good? Did he rock your world?”
Yes. “See my last comment—we’re not talking about this.”
Elle laughed and actually clapped. “That means it was fantastic. If it had been terrible,

you’d be telling me all about it. When are you seeing him again?”

“I’m not.” What she was going to do, however, was find a damn computer so she could

book a flight out of here. No way could she hold down this level of deception for any
length of time. It’d only been a few hours, and she felt like she had a giant sign tattooed
on her forehead that read I had sex with my best friend’s older brother.

Elle frowned. “Why not?”
This was the crux of the matter. Roxanne had never gone into great details with Elle

when it came to her issues and her parents, and she wasn’t about to start now. And she
definitely wasn’t getting into why Ian, specifically, danced across every single issue she
had. “It’s complicated.”

“So uncomplicate it. This is the first guy in a really long time that has got you all

worked up—no offense to those other ones you dated. And, really, all he needs to do is
feed you some yummy food, and he’s in.”

“Hey! You make me sound easy.”
“Only when it comes to good food.” Elle started to say something else, but then her

entire face lit up with a smile as she caught sight of something over Roxanne’s shoulder.
She shoved to her feet and held out her arms. “Ian!”

“Hey, Ellie.”
His voice went through her like a lightning bolt. No. It couldn’t be. The universe

wouldn’t be so cruel. Roxanne turned, the possibility of escaping to Florida going up in
smoke. There, hugging Elle with the ease of long familiarity, was Ian. The same Ian she’d
spent part of the night tangled up with.

She should have bought a plane ticket as soon as she left the hotel room.

Chapter Six

Ian looked up from hugging his sister and froze. There she was—the very woman he’d
given up any hope of ever seeing again—sitting right here. Considering the rest of the
coffee shop was empty, she had to be here with Elle. “Who’s your friend?”

“Oh! I’m being rude, aren’t I?” Elle grabbed his hand and dragged him over to the table.

“This is my best friend, Roxanne.”

This was the best friend he’d heard so much about? In the cold light of morning, she

looked even more put-together than she had last night, wearing a long dress that looked
anything but matronly, her hair drawn back into a professional ponytail. He held out his
hand, curious as to how she’d react. “Roxanne.”

“Right…” She took his hand gingerly, as if he were covered in contagious diseases.
“Nathan, you know Roxanne.”
Nathan nodded. “Always a pleasure.”
“Sure thing.” Her skin took on a waxy tone, and Ian shifted so he could catch her if she

passed out. He might be pissed as hell that she walked out on him this morning without
giving him a way to get hold of her, but he didn’t want her hurt, either.

Elle looked from face to face, her smile slowly dimming. “So, what brings you guys

here?”

When Nathan didn’t helpfully step in, Ian sighed. “I’m going to stay in the loft above the

gallery for a little bit.”

His sister’s face fell. “Oh…okay.”
Christ, he didn’t like hurting her feelings, but he couldn’t have this conversation now.

“Sorry, Ellie.”

“No, it’s okay. It’s really okay.”
“I think I’m going to be sick.” Roxanne shot out of her chair and disappeared through

the doorway on the far side of the room.

Elle frowned, temporarily distracted from her disappointment in him. “Sorry about that.

I think she’s kind of hungover.”

It wasn’t a hangover—it was her MO. Ian considered himself an excellent judge of

character, and the woman was a runner if he ever saw one. He turned and met Nathan’s
eyes, conveying everything he needed to in that one glance. Months spent in close
quarters under dangerous circumstances had allowed them the ability to communicate
without speaking. Making a sound and giving away your location meant a rain of bullets.

Nathan nodded, though he looked amused. Of course he thought this was funny—Ian

couldn’t have stepped in it worse if he’d actually tried. His friend took Elle’s elbow and
guided her to the counter. “While I order our drinks, I wanted to hear your thoughts on

the new artist I just picked up.”

Elle cast a glance over her shoulder at Ian, looking so hurt that he wanted to hug her

again. But he couldn’t tell her everything was okay, because it wasn’t. Most of the issues
were out of his control—only time and space would help him settle at this point—but
there was one thing he fully planned on dealing with right now.

The doorway led to a short hall with two doors. Since only one of them was closed,

there was little doubt where Roxanne had gone. The door opened under his hand, so he
stepped inside and closed it behind him.

She stood in front of the mirror, her hands braced on either side of the sink and her

head down. “Get out.”

“I don’t think so.” He moved closer, intentionally crowding her. “Did you know? When I

told you my name, did you know who I was?”

“What? No!” Roxanne threw up her hands, looking like she wanted to strangle him.

“Okay, fine. Maybe I suspected, but all the pieces didn’t click into place right off the bat.”

That soothed some of the betrayal that had been rising ever since he realized she knew

his sister. No, not knew—they were best friends. Before he could say anything else, she
took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. “It’s not a big deal, okay? We shared
a one-night stand, so let’s leave it at that.”

So she was going to play it like that. Fine. “So you just walked away, despite knowing

who I am, thinking you could carry on with your life like nothing happened?”

“That’s exactly what I think.” She raised her chin, bringing her mouth dangerously close

to his. “And honestly? I’ve had better.”

Oh, fuck no. Rage temporarily blacked out Ian’s vision. One second he was staring down

at  her,  still  not  quite  believing  his  mysterious  woman  was  his  baby  sister’s  best  friend,
and  the  next  his  mouth  crashed  down  on  hers.  She  opened  for  him  immediately,  her
hands  fisting  the  front  of  his  shirt  as  she  arched  against  him.  He  stroked  her  tongue
mercilessly, drawing moan after moan from her and making her writhe against him. He
could take her now, and she’d be more than willing. Hell, she’d be coming on his cock in
less than thirty seconds.

But he wasn’t going to give that to her. Not like this.
He made himself step back. Roxanne actually made a sound of protest before she

seemed to catch herself. She pressed a hand to her mouth and glared at him. “You’re an
asshole.”

“You’re no innocent, either.” He straightened his clothes. “This isn’t over.” Then he

turned and walked out of the bathroom.

…

By the time Roxanne got her shit together enough to leave the bathroom, Ian and Nathan

were gone. Elle sat at their table, frowning at her cup of coffee. She glanced up when
Roxanne reclaimed her seat. “How do you feel?”

For a second, she didn’t understand the question, but then she remembered the

choked-out excuse for her retreat. All she’d wanted was a little time alone to find her
center, and look how well that turned out. “I’m fine. Where’d everyone go?” Not that she
really cared. All that mattered was she didn’t have to face Ian again right now.

“Apparently they went off to move Ian into the loft.” Elle frowned harder. “He was

supposed to stay with me for a little while until he could move into the house he bought,
but now everything’s changed, and I don’t know why.” She picked up her napkin and
started shredding it. “Do you think he’s okay?”

The last thing she wanted to talk about right now was Elle’s brother, but it seemed no

matter which way she went, she was stuck. Besides, she couldn’t leave her best friend
looking so miserable. Roxanne took a hasty sip of her coffee. “What do you mean?”

“He was just so quiet last night, and he about bit my head off every time I tried to talk

to him. I don’t know what to do.”

Considering how wild-eyed he’d been when he first ran her over, Roxanne didn’t find

that difficult to believe. “Maybe he just needs some time to adjust to life back home. Give
him a few days. I’m sure everything’s fine.” She’d be surer if he hadn’t tossed and turned
last night before she’d left, muttering in his sleep. She had watched him, had listened to
him say names with such anguish that she didn’t have to guess what happened to the
men they belonged to. To see such a strong man so vulnerable had woken something in
her, something she’d thought dead and gone.

She wanted nothing to do with it.
“Yeah, I guess so. The problem is that he won’t talk to me about it.” Elle glared at her

coffee. “No matter how old I get, he always sees me as his baby sister, in need of
protecting. Even if he needs to talk, he won’t open up to me, and it’s going to take him
ages to warm up to Gabe, so it’s not like I can ask him to talk to Ian.”

Roxanne saw where this was going and tried to jump the train off the tracks. “Didn’t

you say he and Nathan are best friends? And they’re old war buddies, too, right?”

“You know how guys are. Neither one of them likes to talk about stuff that bothers

them. Heck, something’s been up with Nathan recently, too, and not even Gabe knows
what it is. No, Ian won’t talk to Nathan about stuff.” Elle turned those baby blues on her,
and Roxanne knew she didn’t stand a chance. “He might talk to you, though.”

“Me?”
“Yeah. You’re the most social person I know, and it’s pretty much your job to do

damage control—which you’re amazing at.”

“It’s easier when they’re strangers.”
Elle gave her a strange look. “Well, technically, Ian is the next best thing to a stranger.

It’s not like you know each other or anything.”

Unless she was talking in the biblical sense. Roxanne rubbed her temples and tried to

breathe. Last night was supposed to be some carefree fun with a stranger who had
shadows in his eyes, a stranger who was inexplicably calmed by her touch. No way could
she have known she’d react the way she did. She might not be willing to admit as much
to Ian, but she could at least admit it to herself. And, if the scene in the bathroom was
any indication, the spark that lay between them was just waiting to be ignited again.

Which was why she needed to stay as far away from him as possible. “Elle, I don’t

know.”

“Come on. You’re so good at getting people out of their shells—you did it for me.”
“Yeah, because you’re a sweet woman who just needed a little kick in the ass to go out

and get what you wanted out of life.” Roxanne took another drink. “I don’t know if you
noticed, but your brother isn’t exactly a sweet woman.”

Elle snorted. “Maybe not, but it’s entirely possible that he needs the same treatment.”
“Maybe.” Again, she thought back to how haunted he’d seemed when he let his guard

down. As furious as he was with her right now, she wasn’t sure it was a good idea to take
her normal, blunt approach. “I’m not really good at coddling. I’m better at bullying people
into doing what I want.”

Elle frowned harder. “Maybe he needs that, too. Actually, I’m not really sure what he

needs right now.”

If Roxanne had her guess, she’d say he wanted some peace and quiet to settle into his

life and find the rhythm of things again. But Elle wouldn’t want to hear that the big
brother she’d missed so much wanted nothing to do with her for a little while. And God
only knew what their mother would say. Roxanne shuddered to even think of it.

She should stay out of it. They were all adults, and Ian had been fending for himself for

years. He could handle the women in his family.

She bit her lip, picturing the look in his eyes when she first talked to him last night.

He’d been so out of control, almost panicked. Goddamn it. “Fine.”

Elle lit up like she’d just won the lottery. “You’ll help?”
“No schemes and no plotting. I’ll talk to him, but that’s all I’ll promise.” God only knew

what she’d say. When she left that note this morning, she’d had no intention of ever
seeing him again. Now she was supposed to seek him out.

He’d probably tell her to take a long walk off a short pier. Which was good, because if

he did that, she could go back to Elle in good conscience and say she’d tried. Then she
would move on with her life and forget all about the confusing mass of emotions being
around Ian Walser made her feel.

It was a great plan. Absolutely nothing could go wrong.

Chapter Seven

She could do this. Really, she could. She could walk in there, smile, and ask Ian to dinner.
Lunch. Coffee. Breakfast. She shook her head. No, not breakfast. Breakfast would only
remind him of her taking off before he woke up. Which she was totally justified in doing
as far as she was concerned. One-night stands, by definition, only lasted for one night.

Maybe she should just call him instead?
She paced outside the door to the gallery, debating with herself. Call or go in there?

She couldn’t decide if calling him meant she was a coward or just really smart for
avoiding temptation. But the latter didn’t exactly ring true because she was trying to get
hold of Ian to meet him, which sort of defeated the purpose. God, she was overthinking
this to a criminal degree. She’d never cared enough to get riled over something as silly as
talking with a man—even a man as hot as Ian. It wasn’t her style.

Thinking about how hot he was didn’t do a damn thing for her control because, instead

of focusing on all those delicious muscles, she kept getting sidetracked by the look on his
face when she’d tried to brazen her way through their encounter in the bathroom. If she
didn’t know better, she’d think she actually hurt him. The man had enough going on
without her adding to the weight he carried on his shoulders.

It was better for both of them that she’d left when she did. Yes, there had been an

intense kiss in the coffee shop, but she was more than capable of pretending that didn’t
happen. Neither she nor Ian needed the kind of pain that came from a failed relationship.

And that was the only kind of relationship that existed in Roxanne’s world.
Taking a deep breath that did nothing to fortify her, Roxanne threw back her shoulders

and headed into the gallery. She barely paused to give Elle a wave—if she stopped now,
she’d talk herself out of this entire mess—before moving up the stairs next to the offices.
She’d only been here once before on an errand for Elle, but she knew the loft held two
rooms, a bathroom, and a full kitchen. Even though they were downtown, the location
above the gallery muted the traffic sounds. She couldn’t have picked a better place if she
were a soldier trying to find her balance in everyday life.

She considered the door at the top of the stairs. Knock, or just walk in? Good Lord, she

was about to talk herself right out of this. For a second, she hoped it was locked. It would
be just the excuse she needed to walk away.

It opened beneath her hand.
Of course it did. She wasn’t going to get a single break when it came to Ian. To hope

for one was stupid. Chin up, Rox. You can do this. Just keep your goddamn panties on
and everything will be fine. Maybe if she said that enough times, she’d actually start to
believe it. She was doing this for Elle, not because she cared one way or another if

touching him soothed the haunted look in his dark eyes.

Roxanne gritted her teeth and threw the door the rest of the way open. “Honey, I’m

home.”

Ian came around the corner, his chest bare and a goddamn towel wrapped around his

waist. She watched a single drop of water trail between his pecs and down his abs, and
licked her lips. How was she supposed to keep her head on straight and her panties in
place when he was standing there, half-naked and looking good enough to eat? Hell, she
could still feel his mouth on hers from their kiss at the coffee shop, and she wasn’t a
goddamn saint.

His lips twisted into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “What an unexpected

pleasure.”

She’d give him unexpected pleasure… Wait, no. She was here to talk, not lose control

and mouth off. Roxanne crossed her arms over her chest and tried for her own smile.
“Why don’t you put some pants on? I’m here to chat.”

“I don’t think I will.”
Just when she thought this couldn’t get any more uncomfortable, he went and made it

worse. “Why not?”

“I’m comfortable.” He leaned against the wall and mirrored her pose. “Say what you

need to say.”

“Ian…” Not exactly the warmest welcome, but she hadn’t expected anything different,

not after the way she’d bolted this morning. But what did he think was going to happen?
He showed up, blew her damn mind, and then held her close as if she were the only thing
keeping him from his worst fears. Connection or not, she couldn’t risk spending more time
with him. She reminded herself that she was doing this for Elle, not because she felt
inexplicably drawn to him.

When she didn’t immediately continue, Ian raised his eyebrows. “Yes?”
Well, crap, she wasn’t sure where to go from here. There wasn’t exactly a playbook for

this kind of thing. Roxanne cleared her throat. They’d never get to talking about the stuff
that brought her here in the first place if they didn’t get the other stuff out of the way
first. “Obviously, you have some pent-up rage. Hit me with it.”

“You came here for a reason, and it wasn’t to let me yell at you.”
“This has to be one of the strangest standoffs in history. No, please, you air your

grievances first. No, no, I couldn’t possibly.” When he only stared, she threw up her
hands. “Fine, okay.” She was going to go about it like she always did—headfirst, without
thinking too much. “It goes like this. Your sister is worried about you.”

“My…sister.”
Some of the anger had leached out of his voice, replaced by confusion. Roxanne figured

she might as well run with it while the opportunity presented itself. “Yeah. You have your

entire family freaked. They thought they were getting their golden boy back.” Though
after spending one night with him, she could have told them Ian was damaged goods.
Whatever nightmares he’d seen in the last ten years had made sure of that.

His mouth twisted. “I’m not the same person anymore.”
“Obviously.” The shadows were back in his eyes. How black eyes could have shadows

was a mystery for another day—all she knew was that something haunted this man. It
made sense. Plenty of men came back from war with more scars than they left with, and
some of those scars weren’t physical.

Logical.
But her response was anything but logical. She wanted to hug him…or something.

Which was crazy. Roxanne didn’t know how to comfort people. While growing up with her
parents, the house hadn’t exactly been the epitome of emotional hand-holding. Her
mother wasn’t the type to kiss “owies” better or rock her to sleep after she had a
nightmare. She’d been so wrapped up in first one dissolving marriage and then the next
and the next, that she hadn’t had time for her daughter—except to voice precious little
tidbits of relationship advice.

She shook her head. Do not look at the nearly naked man. Just don’t do it. “Eventually

you’re going to have to deal with them, you know.”

“I’m aware.”
He sounded so miserable she couldn’t stop herself from reaching out to touch his arm.

As soon as she realized what she was doing, she snatched her hand back, but the
damage was done.

…

Ian nearly groaned when her fingers brushed his skin, comforting him even though he
should know better by now. The serenity this woman offered knew no reason, though. It
was beyond comprehension.

He hadn’t expected Roxanne to show up, but here she was. Not that she wanted to be.

She couldn’t make her reluctance any more obvious with the careful distance she kept
between them. She’d refused to look directly at him since she walked in, her eyes flitting
around the loft even as she asked him questions he didn’t want to answer.

She dropped into a nearby chair, making herself at home the same way she’d done at

the bar last night. Did she walk into every room as if she owned it? The only time in their
admittedly short acquaintance that she’d seemed less than sure of herself was in the
coffee shop bathroom. That hadn’t lasted, though. The second she realized he was there
with her, she’d been all attitude and bravado.

“You haven’t told them, have you?”
He blinked. “Told them what?”

“Whatever it is that happened to you over there.” Roxanne held up a hand when he

started to speak. “Don’t try to play it off. If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine. We
all have things we don’t want to talk about.”

What were the things she didn’t want to talk about? What dark thing could she possibly

have in her past? He shook his head. He knew better than to judge a book by its cover.
Yes, Roxanne was gorgeous and possessed with the kind of self-assurance that took
some people a lifetime to accomplish, but that didn’t mean shit.

Reluctantly, he sank into the couch across from her. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Would never want to talk about it. Even if she had skeletons in her closet, she couldn’t
understand what he’d gone through any more than the therapist he’d seen before. She’d
pat his hand and tell him she understood, or worse, that it’d get better. He couldn’t deal
with that, not from Roxanne.

“I’m not really sure where to go from here.” She pressed her lips together and frowned.

“You’re not making this easy on me.”

“Should I be? Because, last time I checked, you’re the one who set the tone of our

interactions.”

“That hurts. Really, it does.” She pressed a hand to her chest, drawing his attention to

the dress she wore. Though he’d registered it at the coffee shop, he hadn’t taken the time
to really notice anything besides the fact it covered up the scrape on her leg. It wasn’t
particularly tight or over-the-top sexy, but the green folds accented her curves without
quite revealing them, which only make the slice of skin it showed of her chest that much
more tantalizing.

“Why are you really here, Roxanne? Just because of my sister?” He braced himself for

her to agree. She’d made her stance on what happened between them pretty damn clear
when she up and left this morning. Hell, if he was going to be perfectly honest with
himself, he wasn’t in a good place to start something serious, and if she’d asked him, he
would have admitted to as much. But that didn’t change the truth—he was pissed
because she’d taken the choice away from him.

Ian leaned back, enjoying the way her gaze jumped to his chest, his stomach, and

lower, before jumping away again. She was as nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking
chairs, which meant she wasn’t entirely unaffected. Good. “I know you’re not here for
your goddamn cab money, because you never planned on seeing me again.”

“Even if I did, it’s not like I’m going to demand you pay it back.”
Her easy dismissal annoyed him even more. “I don’t need your fucking charity.”
“Then maybe I was just paying you for a good night’s work.” She crossed her legs,

which flashed a bit of calf that he refused to be distracted by, even if he could see her
scrape from last night. “It’s important to show your appreciation for such things.”

Did she just call him a whore? “Woman, a night with me is worth a hell of a lot more

than twenty bucks.”

“If you say so.”
He hated this, hated how unaffected she seemed, when he wasn’t the least bit relaxed

right now. He pushed to his feet, only his hand on the towel holding it in place. “I do say
so.”

“What are you doing?” Roxanne’s narrowed her eyes, and her entire body tensed, as if

she were going to run.

“I think you’re full of shit. You were all over me in the bathroom just this morning—I’d

think if it were only worth twenty bucks, you would have managed to keep your hands to
yourself.”

“I panicked. So sue me.”
He held out his hand. “Prove it.”
“Prove what, exactly? That you’re an ass? Because I think that point can be laid to

rest.”

“Prove you can kiss me now, without emotions running high, and be unaffected.” She

couldn’t do it. He was sure of it. Even being in the same room had him ricocheting
between wanting to shake some sense into her and wanting to hold her close because he
still couldn’t quite believe she was here right now.

She looked at his outstretched hand as if it were a snake threatening to bite her. “I

think I’m good.”

“What have you got to lose?” He forced his voice to be light, as if it didn’t matter one

way or another, when the truth was that right now it was everything he could do not to
yank her to her feet and haul her ass into the bedroom. Or simply shove her out of the
loft and slam the door in her face for making him feel like he was losing himself when
he’d taken such strides to regain control of his life.

“You have no idea.”
“Chickenshit.”
Roxanne’s green eyes went wide. “You did not just call me that.”
“Actually, I did.”
She slapped his hand, but he caught her wrist before she could yank it back. Ian didn’t

pull, though. He just watched her, silently challenging her to go through with this.

“You are such a pain in my ass.” When she got to her feet, he used her momentum to

haul her against his chest. Roxanne made a sound suspiciously close to a whimper.

“What’s wrong?”
“You. You’re what’s wrong.” He held still as she smoothed her hands over his pecs and

moved down to his stomach.

“I don’t understand.”
“This.” She slapped his stomach, but not hard enough to sting. “Who the hell has a

freaking eight-pack? They’re like unicorns. They don’t exist. No, that’s not right. I’m sure
there are guys who have them, but they’re the kind of guy who is obviously compensating
for something. You aren’t.”

“So what you’re saying is that I’m a unicorn…”
“A sexy unicorn.” She touched the top of his towel and stopped. For a long moment, the

only sound in the room was their breathing. “God, this isn’t fair. If you were just a pretty
face, it’d be so much easier to resist you.”

It wasn’t admitting she felt the connection between them, too, but it was damn close.

He  cupped  her  face,  moving  slowly  and  giving  her  time  to  react.  His  lips  had  barely
touched  hers  when  she  melted  against  him  with  a  little  moan.  Unaffected,  his  ass.  But
just like in the bathroom of the coffee shop, Ian didn’t capitalize on it. If they ended up
having  sex,  it  was  going  to  be  on  his  terms.  And  damn  it,  Roxanne  would  admit  she
wanted it as much as he did.

Still, he couldn’t resist angling his mouth to deepen the kiss. She hooked her fingers in

the top of his towel, but she didn’t go further. For his part, he didn’t trust himself to touch
her anywhere other than her face without losing control. All too aware of how tenuous his
grip on said control was, even now, Ian gentled the kiss and took a step back.

The only problem was, Roxanne didn’t let go of his towel. It stayed in her hands instead

of around his waist.

They stared at each other for three heartbeats before her gaze coasted down his chest

to his cock. He could almost feel her gaze there, stroking him the same way she’d done
last night. “You and I both know I can have you naked and coming on my cock inside of
three minutes, your self-control be damned.”

Roxanne licked her lips. “I…uh…I’m going to go now.”
“That’s probably wise.”
But she didn’t move.

Chapter Eight

Roxanne twisted the towel in her hands. She needed to go. She needed to go right now.
But how was she supposed to go anywhere when Ian was standing there, sexy as all get-
out, looking like some offspring of Adonis who’d wandered into the wrong apartment?

“This is a mistake.”
He didn’t move so much as a muscle. “Then leave.”
“I’m going to.” But she took a step closer to him instead.
“Stop.” He held up a hand as if to ward her off. If it weren’t for the fact that he’d just

kissed her and was now standing at full attention down south, she’d think she was
misreading his signals. But he had, and his cock was raring and ready to go. Still, she
obeyed the command. She was helpless to do anything else.

Ian noticed—he seemed to notice everything. “I’m not a mistake, Roxanne.”
No, he wasn’t. He was a goddamn miracle. One she had no idea what to do with. “I

don’t do relationships,” she said. “I don’t do commitment. I don’t do love.”

She’d tried, truly tried, on all counts in the past, desperate to prove her mother wrong,

but they all ended the same—in tears and heartbreak. Catching her last ex-boyfriend in
her bed  with  another  woman  the  day  after  he  brought  Roxanne  roses  and  said  “I  love
you”  for  the  first  time  had  been  the  straw  that  broke  the  camel’s  back.  When  she’d
confronted him, he’d actually had to gall to tell her it wasn’t her—it was him. She couldn’t
go  through  that  again,  especially  since  she  suspected  a  relationship  with  Ian  would  be
just  as  intense  as  every  interaction  they’d  had  up  to  this  point.  The  inevitable  breakup
might actually destroy her.

“Who said I was asking for any of those?”
That should have reassured her. It sure as hell shouldn’t have felt like a slap in the

face. But none of her reactions to this man fell into the neat little boxes she’d created for
herself. She made herself smile. “You say that now. Guys always say that to begin with.
But what about later?”

“Why not take things one day at a time? I’m not a fan of closing doors before I get to

them. You never know what could change.”

His words were calm, were so damn self-assured despite the turmoil in his eyes—

turmoil she suspected she was adding to. Knowing that, knowing her being difficult was
adding to his already-towering list of things to deal with, made her want to scream. Last
night had been amazing in so many ways, but she hadn’t bargained on ever seeing him
again. The plan had been to soothe their mutual pain and walk away, no harm done.

Except she was doing harm right now.
All she wanted was for him to hold her and tell her that they’d figure this out. But it

wasn’t going to be okay, and she couldn’t deal with every ounce of her limited self-control
demanding  she  go  to  him  anyway.  If  they  kept  spending  time  together,  she’d  never  be
able to keep the emotional distance necessary to survive when he walked away. Because
he  would  walk  away.  Men  always  did,  especially  beautifully  damaged  ones  like  Ian.  He
wouldn’t be damaged forever, and when he finally reined in his demons, he’d want a wife
and  children.  A  family.  He  most  definitely  wouldn’t  want  the  kind  of  baggage  Roxanne
brought to the table.

No. She couldn’t do this. Not now, not ever, and definitely not with Ian. No matter how

much she wanted to. It was that want, more than anything else, that sent actual fear
coursing through her. Realizing her hands were shaking, she dropped the towel, hoping
he hadn’t noticed. “I have to go.”

Whatever he saw on her face, it closed down his own, until he offered her nothing. He

might as well have been clothed in designer brands for all the calm he exuded. She kind
of wished she felt that level of anything right now, because somehow he’d put her at a
disadvantage even though he was naked and she was fully clothed.

“You know the way out.” He turned and walked away, and damn it, Roxanne couldn’t

help staring at his ass until he shut the bedroom door behind him. If the man had an
imperfect spot on his body, she had yet to see it.

The worst part was, she wanted to follow him into that room, to lose herself for a few

hours in his arms. But that was the problem. She’d lose a piece of herself when she
walked away—she already had. This was why she kept her distance, why she reduced her
sexual encounters to one-night stands and short-term relationships, though even those
had dropped off in the last two years.

She should have known better. Hadn’t she recognized a kindred spirit in Ian from the

get-go?  If  she  was  already  feeling  a  connection  with  him  before  they  even  kissed,  she
should  have  guessed  sex  would  make  things  infinitely  more  complicated.  No,  it  wasn’t
love,  but  it  hurt  to  walk  away.  She’d  thought  she  could  handle  one  night,  since  they’d
never see each other again after it.

That hadn’t worked out quite the way she’d planned.
She left the apartment and walked to her car, ignoring the voice inside demanding she

go back. Her crazy reaction to Ian was exactly why she had to stay away from him. She’d
done her duty to Elle, and he didn’t want to talk about whatever it was driving him out of
his mind.

So why did she feel like she was hip-deep in quicksand and sinking fast?

…

No matter what he did, Ian couldn’t get the look on Roxanne’s face out of his head. It had
changed from desire to something else entirely—fear. It had surprised him enough to

break the connection thrumming between them and walk away. Her warnings still rang in
his ears, even hours later. No relationships, commitment, or love. She couldn’t have been
clearer if she flat-out said all she’d wanted from him was one night of sex. He shouldn’t
be surprised, not after the way she’d left this morning. Now was the time to let it go. She
didn’t want anything from him, and he wasn’t exactly in the right place to jump into
something serious. How could a woman like her be happy with a guy who didn’t even
have his shit together enough to hang out in a bar?

He wished he could shake the connection he felt. Ever since he decided to get out of

the  military,  he’d  felt  like  he  was  lost  at  sea,  set  adrift  from  life  with  nothing  really
holding him in place. Now, finally, here was this woman who actually seemed to  see him
—all  of  him—without  flinching.  She  understood,  as  much  as  one  person  can  understand
another.

He’d be a fool to let her slip away just because something about him scared the shit out

of her. He wanted to know the source of that fear. Christ, if he were honest with himself,
he wanted to soothe her in the same way she’d managed to soothe him. If that meant
throwing on a suit of armor and riding off to slay some dragons, Ian was more than
willing to do so.

No. It was none of his business. He should walk away before this went any further. He

had no business pursuing her, not when she’d made it so clear she wanted nothing from
him.

But he couldn’t make himself leave it alone.
Ian got dressed, thinking fast. First things first—he needed a plan of attack. He’d felt

completely off his stride ever since he woke up this morning, so he needed time to find
his balance before he went in for round two.

Roxanne had already proven herself to be a runner, which meant he’d have to take

away her options. If he could find out where she worked, maybe that would be the place
to do it. The woman was obviously a professional—she’d balk at the idea of causing a
scene in her place of business. He grinned. Yeah, that was playing dirty, but he learned a
long time ago that most people didn’t play by the rules.

Who knew years of combat experience would be exactly the training he needed to court

a woman?

His smile died at the thought. That was the only thing good to come out of all those

months spent crawling through the sand, sleeping with his weapon, and drowning in the
constant state of awareness. He’d managed to get out without full-blown PTSD, but some
of his friends weren’t so fortunate—and those were the ones who made it home without
serious injury or losing a limb. Hell, Ian was one of the lucky ones, even if he didn’t feel it
most days.

He looked around the loft, at the comfortable furniture and tastefully painted walls. He

Chapter Nine

“There’s someone here to see you.”

Another one? Roxanne should have known this would happen after she got that write-

up in Brides. Everyone and their dog in the Inland Northwest seemed to have read the
article, and they wanted her to plan their weddings. Business was booming. It was great
—or it would be if she ever got the time to return the dozens of phone calls and respond
to the million emails she’d gotten as a result.

So why was she having such a hard time concentrating?
“Probably because of interruptions like this one,” she muttered, then pushed the

intercom button and put some cheer into her voice. “Send them in.”

“Sure thing.”
At least her receptionist, Mallory, was a miracle worker. The woman was a scheduling

fiend, and she had a gift for calming down hysterical clients. Once they’d paid down the
bills enough to breathe, Roxanne fully intended on giving Mallory a raise.

Her thoughts nose-dived when Ian walked into her office. She rubbed her eyes, sure

that her fevered fantasies had gotten away from her again. She didn’t particularly want to
count how many times she’d come while thinking about him in the last week. Thank God
she had a rechargeable buzzy friend, or the battery bill alone would have killed her.

Heat crept across her face, and she mentally cursed herself for letting him get to her

again. He was the worst one-night stand she’d ever had, if only because he wasn’t
staying in the box she’d created for their interaction. It was a really nice box, all tight and
confined and well-defined.

When Ian shut the door and leaned against it, she finally found her voice. “What are

you doing here?”

He crossed his arms over his chest, drawing her attention to the short sleeves he wore

and how his shoulder muscles molded the fabric so gloriously.

And still he didn’t say a damn thing. She licked her lips, suddenly aware of how dry her

throat was. “Ian…”

“I’m here to take you to dinner.”
Wait—what? “Excuse me?”
“It’s the meal you eat in the evening.” He made a show of looking at his watch. “It’s

evening.”

“I’m not hungry.” She prayed her stomach wouldn’t make a sound and betray her. Even

as she did, she wondered what the point of fighting this was. Ian had a look in his eyes
that she recognized—Elle had one just like it. Though Elle never managed to look quite so
intense. He wasn’t going to give in.

If she were honest with herself, she wasn’t sure she wanted him to.
“Your assistant said you missed lunch.”
“I had a full breakfast.”
“A quad white mocha. Yes, I heard.” He actually grimaced a little. “I have no idea how

you can stomach those things, but it explains a lot.”

She refused to ask what he meant by that statement. She was going to have to have a

talk with Mallory about her opening her mouth to a gorgeous man. “Apparently my
assistant needs to have a talk about what would be considered appropriate information to
give to prospective clients.”

“Prospective client? Last time we talked, I did mention I wasn’t getting a ring. Maybe

you should calm down about planning our wedding.”

Our wedding. The term made her break out in a cold sweat. Only the fact that his

mouth was quirked up on one side kept her from trying to escape through the window.
“You’re a terrible person.”

“Not according to everyone who knows me. I have a fantastic reputation.” His smile

widened. “And your assistant didn’t tell me about the coffee. You were drinking one last
week.”

“So what makes you think I had one this morning?”
He raised his eyebrows. “My sister mentioned you have an addiction to the damn

things.”

“You’ve been checking up on me.” Of course he was. She might not know him that well,

but even Roxanne recognized that Ian was a man most comfortable when he had a plan.
The lack of one was probably part of the reason he’d been so off-balance on the night
they met. Not that she’d since gone over every single thing he’d said to her and analyzed
it to death.

“Come to dinner.” The request would have been a lot more convincing if he hadn’t

phrased it as a command. His dark eyes drank her in, making her really glad she’d worn a
little black dress today. It wasn’t quite fancy enough to go clubbing in, but it suited a day
at the office. From his expression, he liked it. A lot. “I promise not to ravish you.”

“What if I want to be ravished?” The words were out before she could think better of

them.  Damn  it,  when  would  she  get  a  handle  on  her  impulse  control?  Oh  right—never.
Her  first  response  when  she  felt  uncomfortable  or  threatened  was  to  come  back  with
sexual  innuendo  or  jokes.  She  shifted,  trying  to  relieve  the  tension  coiling  through  her
stomach and lower, but the movement only made it worse.

Ian, of course, noticed. “Why don’t we play it by ear?”
“Fantastic plan. If I remember correctly, you have extremely sensitive ears.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
“Do I?” She hated this, hated how careful he was being with her. Even though she

feared it, she wanted to reclaim the easy thing they’d had going the first night. Damn him
for listening to her babbling worries before. She hated how she felt so vulnerable all of a
sudden. As if he really did have the ability to hurt her.

Only one way to take back control of the situation.
A little voice murmured that this probably was the worst way to feel in control, but

Roxanne ignored it. She was tired of being cautious and worried and so freaking alone. So
she pushed her chair back and stood, watching him watch her.

“You want to know a secret?” She came around the desk, trailing her fingers over the

polished wood, and took the three steps that brought her chest-to-chest with Ian. “When
I’m touching myself, all I have to do is think about your hands on me in the bar, and it’s
enough to send me over the edge.”

“That’s not why I’m here.”
She wanted to smack him for not playing along. If he wasn’t going to leave her alone,

the least he could do was let their interaction remain on her terms. Who was she kidding?
Ian wasn’t the type to sit back and let others make his decisions for him. With a sigh, she
backed up and propped her ass against her desk. The angle made her dress ride up to
seriously indecent heights, and from his harsh inhale, Ian noticed.

It took him an entire ten seconds to tear his gaze away from the hem of her dress.

When he did, she recognized the question in his eyes. Roxanne raised her eyebrows. She
wasn’t giving an inch. “Yes?”

“You wearing the same thing under that dress you wore under the pink skirt?” Which

was to say—nothing.

Her heartbeat quickened at the way his voice had dropped an octave by the end of the

question. “And if I am?”

“Answer the question, Roxanne.”
She leaned farther back, and the dress rose another half an inch—still not high enough

to satisfy his curiosity. “Come find out.”

If it weren’t for the white-knuckle grip he had on his biceps, she might make the

mistake of thinking he couldn’t care one way or another. He did care, though, even if he
didn’t freaking move. “You’re playing games.”

“I only play games I intend on winning.”
“And the loser?”
“If there’s a loser, you’re doing it wrong.”
“I seem to remember someone saying something similar to me recently.”
Why hadn’t he moved yet? He just stood there, retaining every bit of control. “She must

have been a smart woman.”

“Yes, she is.” Ian took a step away from the wall. A step closer to her. “She’s also sexy

as hell.”

“Think so?”
“Yeah.”
He was still too far away, and she refused to reach for him, even though she

desperately wanted to. Instead, she trailed her hand up her thigh. “I guess if you’re not
going to take my invitation, I’ll just have to take care of myself.”

“That would be a crying shame.” He took another step closer, bringing himself within

touching distance. Instead of kissing her—or, hell, touching her—Ian dropped into the
chair next to her knee. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

God, she didn’t want to hear that. Better to keep this strictly about sex. She held her

breath as he pressed two fingers to the inside of her right knee. It would have been
simple to resist the gentle pressure he exerted. She didn’t. She let him push her until she
perched on the desk with a knee on either side of his chair. The position left her
completely open—completely vulnerable—and yet she’d never felt more powerful.

“Christ.” He stroked up the inside of either thigh with his thumbs, before gripping the

top of her thighs and yanking her to the very edge of the desk. “Do you ever wear
panties?”

If this was the response going commando got from him, Roxanne would never wear

panties again. Except she wasn’t supposed to make this a regular occurrence. God, she
should stop this. If she closed her knees, Ian would let her walk away. She was sure of it.
But she could admit now, in her heart of hearts, that she was dying to have him touch her
again. If she had to submit to a date to get this, then she would. Her reasoning sounded
flimsy, even to her. She licked her lips. “Not when I can help it.”

He traced the dip where her thigh ended, spreading her as if he wanted to see every

single part of her. “I approve.”

Before she could come up with something witty to say—seriously, what could she say?

—he dipped down and pressed his mouth to her. She surprised herself by making a high-
pitched noise and slapped a hand over her mouth. He lifted his head just long enough to
grin at her. “Better keep it down. Don’t want your assistant knowing you’re spread out on
your desk with me going down on you, do you?”

“Um…”
He licked her again, going slow. Apparently sure he had all the time in the world. She

looked down the line of her body, the position offering all too clear a view of what he was
doing to her. With his hands maintaining their iron grip on her thighs, she couldn’t do
anything but submit to his desire, take whatever he chose to give her. This wasn’t what
she intended when she started this seduction. She was supposed to be in charge. “Ian.”

“If you’re still able to form words, I’m not doing my job right.” Before she had a chance

to argue, he pressed a hand against her chest, directly between her breasts. “Down.”

“But—”

“Down.” Again, it wasn’t a request. Roxanne obeyed before she had a chance to wonder

why the hell she was doing it. He didn’t give her time to change her mind, though. He
shoved two fingers inside her, the brutality of the penetration completely at odds with the
slow swirling of his tongue on her clit. Even as he fucked her with his fingers, he made
love to her with his mouth. Caught between the warring sensations, Roxanne’s existence
narrowed down to the pressure building inside her, each touch pushing it higher.

Her orgasm caught her completely by surprise, bowing her back and drawing cries from

her throat until she had to press both hands to her mouth to muffle the sound. And still
he kept going, wringing every last shudder of pleasure from her. It was only when her
legs fell open, unable to keep up the tension, that he finally withdrew his fingers and sat
back. “Jesus, woman.”

Roxanne’s laugh was hoarse, and she couldn’t quite make her muscles work like they

were supposed to. She managed to sit up, but that was as far as she was getting. “Me?
I’m practically an innocent bystander.”

“Hardly innocent.” He squeezed her knee, even that soft touch making her shiver.

Before she had a chance to say anything, he scooped her off the desk and set her in his
lap. She went still, ready to shove him away—sex was one thing, but he was cuddling her
as if she actually meant something to him. And, damn it, she wanted to melt into him and
just let him hold her. When she started to push off him, Ian grabbed her hands. “Just sit
still and let me hold you.”

Once again, she couldn’t ignore the command. If she was being honest with herself, she

didn’t want to. This gave her the excuse she needed to let him wrap her up—not that
she’d ever admit that out loud. With a sigh, Roxanne laid her head against his shoulder
and closed her eyes. This felt good—safe. When he pressed his lips against the top of her
head and traced lazy circles on her back with his hand, she could almost believe her
mother was wrong, and not every relationship turned to hate.

She opened her eyes. No, she couldn’t risk thinking like that. If she let her guard down,

she was screwed. He had just given her yet another mind-blowing orgasm, but that didn’t
mean the truth of her situation had changed. She couldn’t let him get close.

Or, rather, closer than he already was.
“You hungry now?”
She leaned back and stared. “What?”
“I didn’t stutter, Rox. Let’s get some grub.”
“But…” She motioned at herself and at his painfully obvious erection. “We aren’t

finished here. You haven’t—”

“I know.” He helped her to her feet and adjusted his jeans. “But I’m not having sex with

you.”

“What?”

“You can barely admit that you want me, and every time I’ve seen you since the night I

got back into town, you practically jumped down my throat. So, no, we’re not having sex.”
He glanced at where her dress was still up around her waist. “Honestly, I hadn’t planned
on touching you again until you got your shit figured out.”

She couldn’t decide if he was being an ass or sweet or something else altogether. “Ian,

I—”

“I repeat—I’m not asking you for a commitment, crazy or otherwise. All I’m asking for is

dinner.”

When he put it like that, it didn’t sound so terrifying. Roxanne pulled her dress back into

place. She could do this. It was just one dinner, and he had already proven himself to be
a great conversationalist—verbal and otherwise.

Chapter Ten

Ian was a goddamned idiot. He’d fully intended on asking Roxanne out. What he hadn’t
thought to bring into the equation was the fact that she’d end up on her desk with his
face between her legs. Christ, even thinking about it made his dick twitch. His chances of
getting through this dinner without an outstanding case of blue balls were decreasing by
the second.

The few days they’d been apart were a bitch. He’d spent more time on a treadmill than

was probably a good idea, but he had gotten used to her touch. He’d come to need the
feel of her skin against his, and that need got the better of him once lust hijacked his
brain. Control sure as hell wasn’t his strong suit when it came to this woman.

When they reached the parking lot, he motioned to his Chevy. Roxanne raised an

eyebrow. “Look at you, with your own wheels just like a real boy.”

“Oh, I’m most definitely a real boy.”
Her gaze dropped to the bulge in his pants that he couldn’t hide no matter how many

times he adjusted his jeans. “I’m aware.”

With the sexual tension thick enough to cut with a knife, he cursed his goddamn twisted

self-control. Sure, he could lose it enough to make her come in her office, but not enough
to follow through and take care of his needs. Rationally, he knew having sex right now
was too soon. The rest of his body wasn’t of the same opinion.

He opened the door for her, trying not to watch as she slid into the seat. This was

going to be a long night. As they turned onto the street, she shifted to face him. “So, now
that you have me where you want me…what are you going to do with me?”

He started to respond in kind, but cut off the words before they left his mouth. In the

few interactions they’d had up to this point, she ramped up the sexual tension whenever
things got a little too intense on a nonphysical level. She felt out of control, so this was
how she tried to take it back.

Ian knew all about self-defense mechanisms.
But, though he understood the reasoning behind her switch, he wanted to know if there

was something between them—something beyond the ability to give each other off-the-
Richter-scale orgasms—which meant they had to actually sit down and have a
conversation. He’d felt something at the club and afterward, and he needed to know if he
could reclaim the woman Roxanne had been that night instead of this vamped-up version
of her.

“What kind of food are you in the mood for?”
She sat back. “I don’t know. You’re the one who pushed this. Don’t you have some

fantastic plan?”

Actually, no. She was so impulsive, he hadn’t been sure he’d be able to get her to agree

to dinner. And, yes, he’d planned on taking her somewhere nice with low lighting and
food that would do most of the seducing for him. Now, with her looking at him with the
twinkle in her eye and the slightest tilt of her lips, he wasn’t so sure seduction was the
right course of action.

What would it take to get her to show him that hint of vulnerability again? He was

pretty damn sure it wouldn’t happen until he took back control of the situation, and since
the woman had mentioned her weakness for good food, this was a decent place to start.
“Pick a restaurant, Roxanne.”

“Sir, yes, sir!” She actually slouched in the seat and crossed her arms over her chest,

taking the position of a sulky child. He was tempted to point that out, but caution got the
better of him. Instead, he stayed silent, knowing damn well she couldn’t abide by it for
long.

He was right.
“Okay, fine.” She uncrossed her arms and straightened. “There’s a great little Thai

place on Hastings. Hope you like it spicy.”

Ian turned north and allowed himself a small smile. “I happen to love spicy.”
“Famous last words.”
“Actually, no. Those probably won’t be my last words.”
“Uh-huh. And what do you think those words would be?”
He shrugged, enjoying the opportunity to actually talk to Roxanne. “Something insane.

My mother would claim they’d be something along the lines of ‘Hey Mom, watch this,’ but
I’d like to think I’ve outgrown that stage.”

“That’s up for debate.”
“You’re mean.” He laughed. “I like you mean.”
“Then you’re crazy.”
“Those who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw rocks.”
She huffed, but it didn’t quite cover up her laugh. “You have an answer for everything,

don’t you?”

“Nope. I’m not really that charming.”
This time her laugh escaped, free and clear. “Liar.”
He tried not to think too much of the fact that she thought him charming. He wasn’t,

despite the nickname she’d given him that first night. Occasionally an ass, often a brute,
always  blunt.  Charming?  Not  his  thing.  But  then,  a  lot  of  things  he  took  for  solid  truths
seemed to change around Roxanne. With her, he felt lighter, as if he really were capable
of  slipping  back  into  civilian  reality  without  years  of  sitting  on  some  couch  with  that
goddamn  therapist,  or  the  frustratingly  gentle  way  his  family  had  taken  to  dealing  with
him since the homecoming party. With Roxanne, the verbal sparring and laughing while

talking about serious subjects felt good. Natural.

He reached for her hand and laced their fingers together. Immediately the peace of her

touch soothed what little tension remained along his shoulders. She didn’t blink or give
him shit or anything. Just squeezed his hand and grinned. “So, Charming, what have you
been doing with your time since you got back? Besides investing in some sexy new
wheels.”

“Truck’s not new. My parents had it in storage while I was gone.” And he really didn’t

want to spend too much time thinking about that visit. His dad had been his usual chill
self, but just as usual, his mother had gone above and beyond the call of duty. At least
she’d stopped short of trotting out the neighborhood’s eligible females, though Ian had no
illusions on that fact—she’d do it eventually. His mother apparently felt like a failure
because both her children were unmarried. Elle had drawn most of the fire with her
choice of fiancé, but that would only last as long as it took to plan the wedding.

Wedding.
Ian shuddered. Christ, he couldn’t deal with the fact that his baby sister was getting

married. It was more than that, though. Not only was she getting married, but she was
getting married to a man who was terrifyingly similar to that other loser she’d dated back
in college. He still hadn’t decided how to approach the whole situation. Unlike last time,
Elle had really dug in her heels about Gabe. She loved him, but Ian couldn’t let this
wedding happen without at least having a sit-down with the groom. He just wasn’t ready
to take that step yet.

He glanced over and realized Roxanne had been staring at him while he’d been

mentally circling. “What?”

“I said it must be nice. You know, to have a family that cares.” The bitterness in her

words was at odds with the subject, though she took up rubbing soothing circles on the
back of his hand with her thumb.

He almost made an offhand comment about her having met his parents but chose not

to. Obviously, she had some familial issues in her past—or present. He wasn’t sure,
though. Even with all the times Elle had brought up her best friend, she hadn’t mentioned
Roxanne’s family once. So chances were, they were gone, though he couldn’t be sure if it
was by choice or by death. “It is nice. Sometimes.”

“You sound like Elle.” Some of her seriousness melted away. “Though I can’t think of a

single time I’ve met your mom when she’s actually treated me like a real human being.”

Ian winced. “She’s got her own ideas about what our lives should look like.”
“Your sister’s doesn’t include a nightclub owner, either.” She grinned. “I’ve waited years

for Elle to stand up to your mom, and she finally did it for Gabe.”

“Right.” He scowled. “Gabe.”
“Take a chill pill, overprotective big brother. Gabe treats your sister like she’s spun

glass,  and  the  very  ground  she  walks  on  is  sacred.”  Roxanne  curled  her  lip  in  an
exaggerated  snarl.  “Granted,  he  does  all  that  without  losing  his  man  card  and  still
manages  to  bring  her  out  of  her  shell  and  expand  her  horizons  and  all  that  shit.  It’s
actually pretty damn impressive.”

“I’m sure.” Except he wasn’t. As much as his mother had her ideas about Elle ending up

with a banker or a doctor or something, Ian had wanted her with an upstanding guy. He
wasn’t sure Gabe fit the bill yet.

But he wasn’t taking Roxanne out to talk about his sister and the guy she was dead-set

on marrying. He turned into the parking lot and followed her one-word directions to the
Thai place. It was situated in what served as a strip mall—if a strip mall was 90 percent
church. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “Spend a lot of time here?”

“You’re judging. I can tell.”
“I would never judge. Are you in the choir?”
She climbed out of the truck and straightened her dress. “Yep. Us choir girls know all

the good sex tricks.” She waited until he rounded the front bumper to slip her arm
through his and lean in. “If you’re really good, I’ll take you around the building and let you
pin me against the back wall. I hear it’s what the kids are up to these days.”

Ian stopped walking. “You certainly have a way with words.”
“That’s what all the boys say.”
“You need to hang out with a different crowd.” He opened the door for her and let her

precede him. She, of course, took the opportunity to rub her entire body against his.
“Jesus Christ.”

“Now you’re getting it.” She winked at him over her shoulder and led the way to an

open table.

The restaurant was barely more than a hole in the wall, though the building itself was

new. The color scheme leaned toward red in a serious way, but it somehow managed to
be calming instead of aggravating like most places would be. Maybe it was the low
lighting or the fact that it was mostly empty, but this place seemed extremely chill and
welcoming.

They sat down, and Roxanne slid the menu across to him. “The Massaman curry is

phenomenal. The best in Spokane as far as I’m concerned.”

“You have a thing for food.” Which was why he’d suggested dinner in the first place.
“It’s what holds any party together. If the food is bad, the entire thing can go south

pretty quickly. Good food keeps people in a better mood and decreases the chance of
fights and stuff.” She shrugged. “Plus, life’s too short to eat things that don’t make your
eyes roll back in your head from pleasure.”

“Noted.” He filed that piece of information away for later use.
After they’d given their order, he settled back in his chair. “So, did you grow up in

Spokane?”

“You remember what kind of coffee I drink, but you don’t know the big details? How

disappointing.”

Technically, Elle had told him bits and pieces about Roxanne’s life, but he was missing

some of the more important parts. “Maybe I want to hear it from you.”

“Don’t you think we’re a little past the whole first-date conversation?”
There she went again, trying to put more distance between them. “Since this is our first

date…nope.”

“You’re so difficult.”
“That’s what my mother’s always told me.”
Roxanne rolled her eyes. “Okay, okay. Yes, Charming, I’m born and raised in Spokane. I

already know you were, because your darling sister was.” She sipped her Diet Coke.
“Though I am kind of curious why you enlisted. Elle mentioned neither of your parents
were particularly happy about that.”

He chose not to comment on the fact that she’d obviously paid nearly as much

attention to mentions of him as he had to his sister talking about her. Instead, he focused
on the question. “My dad would have been happy if I followed in his steps and gone into
the farming business. My mom, well, you already know how she’d react.”

“That career is completely beneath the perfection that is my son.”
He choked. Damn, that impression was spot-on. “Yeah… Something like that.”
“Go figure.” She motioned for him to continue, and leaned forward to lace her fingers

through his. The touch centered him enough to keep going.

“I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do after high school. Everyone had an idea, but none of

them felt right. So I decided to take the path that would give me a few years to make up
my mind and let me see a little bit of the world, too. I liked it well enough, so I re-upped
for a second term.”

Roxanne propped her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her hands. “Do you

regret that choice?”

“Regret it?”
“Yeah, because, you know, the whole borderline-PTSD thing. That is what you have

going on, isn’t it?”

Ian blinked. Yes, he’d admitted that there were some serious things going on behind

the scenes that he didn’t want to talk about, but it was a far cry from her calling him out
like this. Not that she was wrong. “More or less.”

“Right.” He waited for pity or something like it to show in her face, but she just nodded

matter-of-factly. “My question stands—do you regret it?”

“I…” Did he? Would his life have been significantly simpler if he’d stayed home and

gone to college like both his parents wanted? Probably. But try as he might, Ian couldn’t

picture that life making him any happier than he was now. If he’d stayed, he would have
resented the hell out of his job, and that kind of bitterness could cripple a man more
thoroughly than the nightmares he suffered through these days. Besides, not everything
he’d seen in the last ten years had been terrible, and he’d met some great people along
the way. Hell, he probably never would have met Nathan if they weren’t both in the
military. “No. I don’t think I do.”

“Good. Regret like that can eat you alive.”
“Speaking from experience?”
Roxanne sat back as the waitress brought their food, taking her touch with her. It was

only when the woman moved away that she spoke. “I don’t have any regrets. They’re a
waste of time.” She said it without an ounce of emotion leaking through, which suggested
she was lying. As if she sensed what he was thinking, she flipped her hair over her
shoulder. “But that’s enough serious talk. Let’s move on to something fun. What’s your
favorite position?”

Jesus Christ, this really was going to be the longest night of his life.

Chapter Eleven

By the time Ian drove back into her office parking lot, Roxanne was a mess. After what
happened in her office, she’d been sure she could keep the upper hand, but somewhere
around  the  time  they  pulled  into  the  parking  lot  of  the  Thai  place,  she’d  forgotten  all
about guarding herself. She  liked spending time with him. That feeling of being safe that
he’d  created  while  he  held  her  hadn’t  dissipated  at  all—if  anything,  it’d  gotten  stronger
the more they talked.

The kicker of it was that she wanted him to feel as safe with her as she did with him.

That’s why she’d picked the Taste of Thai. On top of having the best Thai food north of
downtown, the restaurant itself was always quiet. She thought he’d appreciate the lack of
frenetic pace that most big chain restaurants had.

It was part of the reason she’d held his hand on the drive to the restaurant, made sure

she touched him again while they were at the table, and had her hand on his thigh now.

The fact that she was even taking such things into consideration made her chest ache.

She wanted to spend more time with him—and not just naked time. She wanted to show
him the bits and pieces she hid from everyone else. She wanted to be there for him while
he readjusted to non-military life. She wanted…a lot of things.

This is where it starts, baby girl. All those feel-good emotions running through you?

Those fuck up your head. They make you believe in impossible things. It’s even worse if
he’s right there with you, because he’s making promises he fully intends on keeping. He
won’t, though. Something will happen and he’ll sit you down with regret in his eyes, and
he’ll tell you that it’s not you—it’s him. You’ll lose your damn head, your heart, and your
self-respect, and you’ll be left with nothing when it falls apart.

And it will fall apart. It always does.
God, her mother’s voice was so clear that she could have been sitting in the truck next

to Roxanne, whispering in her ear. The truth of those words hammered down her cautious
happiness, smothering it more thoroughly than if she’d been thrown headfirst into an icy
lake. It would be far too easy to slide into this thing with Ian.

She wasn’t much a fan of repeating history. The only way to save herself was to get out

—sooner rather than later. “Well…this is me.” She reached for the passenger door handle,
but his hand on her arm stopped her. She chose not to acknowledge how her stomach
leaped and her heart tried to beat its way out of her chest at that little touch. It was just
her body betraying her, hormones trying to make her believe truths she had no business
considering.

“I had a really good time. Thank you.”
Hell, she did, too. And not just because she’d started off the date with an orgasm.

Looking at his too-pretty-to-be-real face, she actually considered throwing caution to the
wind and letting this play out. Maybe it wouldn’t end too terribly. Maybe she should stop
being so terrified she’d end up bitter and alone like her mother and just enjoy the ride.

She wasn’t sure she could. Fear of the future held her too tightly. “Me, too.”
“Let’s do it again sometime.”
Danger, Will Robinson . Doing it again could turn into a string of dates leading up to

some expected commitment—to some declaration of love. She didn’t doubt for a second
that he’d feel it. Hell, she would, too. The very thought made her rub her arms like she
was breaking out in hives. Their giddy, feel-good interactions wouldn’t last, though. Pretty
soon the very things about her that he claimed to like so much would turn into things he
couldn’t stand. They’d fight again and again, each time getting more and more vicious.
They’d scream unforgivable things at each other. It didn’t matter how great things were
right now, the end result was still the same—they’d end up hating each other and going
their separate ways. It might take weeks, months, years, but it would happen.

And then he would leave.
Still, she couldn’t quite make herself shoot him down. “We’ll see.” She opened the truck

door and slipped free of his grip. Even now, she wanted to invite him over, if only so they
could keep the magic of the night going. When she was with him, she wasn’t worried
about the future. Hell, she hadn’t even thought about it until just now.

Roxanne pushed the unlock button, so caught up in her own world that she didn’t

realize Ian had gotten out of his truck until he spun her around and pressed her against
her car. “You forgot something.”

With the full length of his body against hers, it was really hard to think. Maybe it was

time to reconsider hot monkey sex? She was already in trouble, so it wasn’t like things
could get much worse. She tried really hard not to stare at his mouth. “Uh…I did?”

“Yeah.” He traced her bottom lip with his thumb, the touch sending desire curling

through her. How the hell did he manage to do that, again and again, with only the
barest of touches? It didn’t make any sense, but she couldn’t concentrate enough to
figure out how he did it.

He kissed her, but he didn’t stop at her mouth. He worked his way over her jawline and

down her neck, giving a whole lotta attention to the sensitive spot where her neck met
her shoulders. Oh my. Her knees buckled, and Ian—of course—caught her. The fact that
she just assumed he’d catch her almost shoved her out of her sensual haze, but then he
set his teeth against her skin and all rational thought fled.

Just when she thought he’d take it to the next level—lift her against the car and make

her scream his name right here in the parking lot—Ian groaned and stepped back. “You
make it really hard to keep my control.”

She reached for him before she could stop herself. “Then why stop?”

“Because.” He caught her hands and pressed a kiss to each palm before he let go and

took another step back, taking the heat of his body with him. He shook his head as if
coming out of a daze. “Because, Roxanne, as much fun as this is, I’m not looking for a
booty call.”

She laughed. “What are you saying? You want to date-date me?”
“Actually, yeah.”
Her laugh died in the face of how serious he was, desire replaced with something closer

to fear. “You’re joking.”

“I’d rather not ruin a fantastic night by arguing.”
Ian ducked in, kissed her again, and was out of reach before she could respond.

Because,  really,  what  was  she  going  to  say? No,  you  beautiful  man,  I  can’t  date  you
because,  not  only  are  you  my  best  friend’s  older  brother—and  therefore  off-limits—but
you  make  me  feel  things  that  are  so  far  outside  my  comfort  level,  I  don’t  even  know
where to start. And I really like you, which just means this entire thing will end in tears.
Yeah, that sounded so freaking well-adjusted it wasn’t even funny.

Then again, she wasn’t exactly the picture you’d see when you looked up “well-

adjusted” in the dictionary. More like neurotic.

By the time she got a handle on the crazy train of her thoughts, Ian was in his truck. He

didn’t pull away, though. Apparently he was going to sit there like a goddamn gentleman
and wait for her to get into her car and drive away. Which totally shouldn’t piss her off…
but it did.

Why couldn’t he be an asshole? Pretty much every other guy she’d run across had been

—even the ones who were self-proclaimed “nice guys.” Gritting her teeth and telling
herself that being pissed wasn’t a legit response, even if it was better than being afraid,
Roxanne climbed into her car and started the engine. She even locked her doors as a nod
to Ian’s paranoia—which totally wasn’t sweet or making her melty underneath the
exterior of her hardened annoyance. Right.

He didn’t drive away until she pulled into the street. She was halfway surprised he

didn’t follow her all the way home. If there was some disappointment mixed in with the
relief when he turned in the other direction, it wasn’t as if he’d ever know.

“Stop thinking about turning around and following him to the gallery. It’s a bad idea on

so many different levels.” She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. Knowing Ian
was a bad idea hadn’t stopped her before. She might as well make it a running trend.
One last fateful good-bye. Not that she really believed he would walk away. Except she
kind of did—it was only a matter of time, now that she’d realized she actually cared for
him.

But she didn’t want him to leave. She wanted to hold him close until they were so

wrapped up in each other he’d never want to leave. He’d never be content unless things

were on his terms, though, and she highly doubted his terms included them hiding out
from their inevitable fate by having so much sex they didn’t have the energy to talk, let
alone fight.

Problem was, Ian was a freaking caveman. He muscled his way through her objections

and outmaneuvered her time and again. Not to mention the man had a serious streak of
stubbornness that impressed even her.

They were doomed.
So why was she winding through the streets instead of heading home? The slow u-turn

took nearly twenty minutes and encompassed several neighborhoods, and no matter how
expertly she tried to talk herself out of it, Roxanne couldn’t stop. Hell, she must have
gone on autopilot because she blinked and next thing she knew, she was standing on the
gallery’s doorstep. Even knowing how it would end, she couldn’t deny the need
demanding more time with him. Before she could spin around and run like a bat out of
hell, the door opened.

“Roxanne? What are you doing out here?” Ian, God bless his soul, was shirtless again,

dressed in a pair of basketball shorts and running shoes.

She licked her lips, considering and throwing away a couple different answers. None of

them were good enough. They’d all open up into an awkward conversation about her
fears and issues that would, no doubt, end up with her going home alone again. If she
gave him half a chance, he was going to put the brakes on and make her talk it out.

No way.
She threw herself into his arms and kissed him with everything she had. This was her

Hail Mary pass. If he turned her away now, they’d have to have a sit-down, and it really
would be the end because, try as she might to deny it… No. She flat-out wasn’t ready to
admit anything else right now—even to herself. Especially to herself.

Ian went still, his hands on her hips ready to either draw her closer or push her away,

she couldn’t tell. From the tension in his body, she guessed he was leaning toward the
latter.

So she played dirty.
She sucked on his bottom lip, raking her teeth gently over the sensitive flesh. When he

groaned, she knew she had him. She reached between them and cupped the front of his
shorts, earning another groan. “Please, Ian. I need you right now.”

That must have been the final nail in the coffin containing his control, because he

dragged her into the gallery and kicked the door shut behind her. She would have liked to
say her words were pure calculation, but Roxanne thought she might lose it if she didn’t
get naked with him in the next thirty seconds.

This desperation… She’d never felt anything like it. It swept away all worry, hesitation,

and control, leaving only need in its wake. She wasn’t sure they’d like what they found on

the other side, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Right now, in this moment, she
didn’t have to worry about messy emotions or the future. The feeling of his hands on her
body chased away all of it.

Maybe she needed his touch nearly as much as he needed hers.
He pulled her dress over her head as they started up the stairs. “We’re supposed to be

waiting.”

“I was never that good at waiting.” She shoved both his shorts and his boxer briefs

down. Holy shit, was she ever going to get used to this man’s body? Would she even have
a chance to?

No, those weren’t good thoughts. No use thinking about the future, not when Ian was

standing so freaking gloriously naked in front of her.

“Me either.” He unclasped her bra and tossed it to the side. “It was really hard to stop

earlier.”

She ran a single finger down his neck, over his chest, and down the centerline of his

abs. “You mean when you had me on my desk, dress shoved up around my waist, coming
for you?”

“Yeah, then.” His voice deepened. “All I wanted was to fuck you right there in the

middle of your office where your assistant could have walked in at any time.”

It was suddenly really hard to catch her breath. She moved her hand a little lower, until

her palm brushed against the head of his cock. “I wanted that, too.”

“Next time, I’m not going to hesitate.”
There was something too vulnerable, too real, about standing here naked, talking

about sex, with their only contact her hand on his lower stomach. She licked her lips.
“Good.”

Ian looped an arm around her waist and brought her flush against him. “Glad we’ve

reached an understanding.” He fisted his free hand in her hair and bent her backward
over his arm, the position leaving her to rely on him to keep her from falling down the
few stairs they’d managed to climb. He leaned over and claimed first one nipple and then
the other, sucking until her back bowed, and she tangled her fingers in his hair. Until her
entire world became his mouth on her skin. “I could spend hours on your breasts alone,”
he growled.

As great as that sounded, she needed more, and she needed it now. “Ian, please.”

Chapter Twelve

They were supposed to be waiting, holding off until Ian courted Roxanne properly. He’d
damn near made a list on why this was a good idea, on how he could rely on sweating
out his demons until they moved forward with their relationship, and all those reasons
had flown right out the window when she showed up on his doorstep. The second she’d
touched him, he’d been lost.

He sucked her nipple into his mouth again, loving the taste of her skin, how her fingers

twisted his hair, how her entire body shook because of him. It was a heady thing knowing
he could make her lose her beloved control.

It was more than that, though. With her in his arms, there was no room for other

worries. All of his anxiety melted away.

When he lifted her higher, she wrapped her legs around his waist. He didn’t hesitate,

shoving her against the wall and his cock home. They both groaned as she clamped
around him. “Holy shit.”

Good as this felt, he couldn’t take her here on the stairs. She deserved better than that.

Keeping his grip on her hips, he started up the stairs, Roxanne riding him the entire way.
It was a struggle to get the loft door open, but he managed.

As he walked into the bedroom, she rotated her hips and Ian missed a step, tumbling

them onto the bed. Her laughter was a balm to his very soul.

“Smooth, Charming.”
“I do what I can.” He ran his hands over her body, still a little bit in awe that she was

here, with him, and decided right then and there that he’d do what it took to see this
through. A connection like this didn’t come along every day. He’d be a damn fool to let it
slip past without giving it a fighting chance.

She moaned as he thrust into her. “God, you feel so good.”
“So do you. Christ, woman, I’m never going to get enough of you.”
Never? Never was a whole hell of a long time—too long for him to be promising—but

she kissed him, effectively taking away his ability to speak. “Stop talking and make me
come.”

He didn’t miss her reluctance to talk about the future, even in these terms, but he let it

go. Right now all he really cared about was feeling her come apart around him. He slid
back to the edge of the bed so he could stand, and lifted her hips. The change in angle
had her arching her back, and a high, keening sound spilled from her mouth. Close. She
was damn close. He forced himself to keep a steady pace, even though the strain nearly
did him in. “Come for me, Roxanne. Now.”

She shrieked and dug her nails into his thighs, the thrashing of her body sending him off

the edge after her. His control slipped, and he pounded into her, groaning as his orgasm
took him. He collapsed next to her and pulled Roxanne against him. “Don’t you dare pull
a runner on me.”

“Mmmmm.” She didn’t open her eyes, but she smiled. “That would require me to be

able to use my legs.”

A foolish pride made him want to beat his chest and yell in victory. It was stupid, but he

couldn’t deny the urge. He kissed her temple. “Good.”

She snuggled up against his chest and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I promise I

won’t leave without saying good-bye.”

Considering she could very easily yell it over her shoulder as she ran out the door, he

took her promise with a grain of salt. Still, it was better than she’d offered up to this
point. Ian wanted to cement things, so he played his trump card. “Stay and I’ll make you
breakfast in the morning.”

“You cook?” She yawned. “I like my eggs with a side of orgasms.”
He laughed and settled in, sleep already threatening. “I think I can make that happen.”
“I knew I liked you.”
It wasn’t a declaration of undying devotion, and it wasn’t a promise of any kind of

future thing, but his heart warmed all the same. “I like you, too.”

…

Ian woke up with a beautiful, naked woman in his arms and a smile on his face. This, he
could get used to. He kept on smiling right up until Roxanne stretched, the sheet sliding
down to reveal her breasts. “I should go.” But she laughed as he dragged the sheet
lower, following its trail with his mouth.

“I don’t think so.”
“Oh, you brute, won’t you let me go?” She spread her legs and gave the top of his head

a helpful little push southward. “I have places to be and things to do.”

“Funny, I was thinking the same thing.” He sat up and climbed off the bed. When she

made a protesting noise, Ian hooked her ankle and dragged her to the edge. Then he
hauled her up and tossed her over his shoulder.

“Oh my God, what are you doing?” She smacked his ass. “On second thought… Carry

on.”

He carefully walked into the bathroom, mindful of her head, and set her on the counter.

“You’ve been a dirty girl. It’s time to get clean.”

She rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe you just said that.”
Yeah, it did sound kind of dorky now that he thought about it. He laughed. “There’s

going to be shower sex involved. You sure you want to criticize?”

She cocked her head to the side as if considering. “You’re right. I’ve been totally dirty—

definitely in need of a very thorough cleaning. Luckily, I think you’re just the man for the
job.”

“Glad we agree.” He stepped away from her long enough to get the shower going and

to make sure the water was warm enough. There was nothing quite as libido-killing as a
freezing shower, though he wasn’t sure even that would be enough to distract him from
this woman. Not when she was sitting on the counter, as prim and proper as could be—if
you ignored the fact that she was naked.

“I’m kind of digging the way you’re looking at me right now.”
His gaze followed the lines of her body, finally reaching her face. It was the kind of slow

perusal that could get a man slapped if he wasn’t careful. Still, he asked, “How am I
looking at you right now?”

“Like you aren’t sure you can wait for us to walk the two steps it’ll take to get into the

shower.” She slid off the counter. “Funny, but I feel the same way.”

It was all the encouragement he needed. He spun her around and bent her over the

counter. From this position, he could watch every expression on her face in the mirror as
he drove into her.

Ian nudged her legs a little farther apart and pushed his way into her. He wasn’t sure

he believed in heaven, but if it existed, it’d be something like this. In the mirror, she
watched him watch her, her green eyes hooded with pleasure, her teeth digging into her
bottom lip, a little sound slipping free of her mouth with every thrust. He stroked a hand
down her spine, earning a shiver that made him gasp. Christ, if she did that again, he was
going to come.

He bent over her back, reaching down her stomach to rub her clit as he kissed the back

of her neck. Roxanne went wild beneath him, her hips undulating helplessly as she
moaned his name. “Ian. Oh God, Ian. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

As if he could deny her anything when she pleaded in that tone of voice. One last thrust

sent them both hurtling over the edge in one of those perfect moments he would have
sworn didn’t exist. He kept an arm around her waist, but he wasn’t sure if it was to keep
her knees from buckling or his.

She gave a shuddery little sigh. “If your plan is to sex me into submission, I’m not

saying it’s working, but I’m not saying it’s not working either.”

“Good to know.” He let go of her long enough to recheck the water temperature, and

then he opened the curtain. “After you, my lady.”

“Nerd.” But she took his hand and let him help her into the tub. She immediately

ducked under the spray and shoved back her hair. When she turned around to face him,
Ian got distracted with the water coursing over her body. She laughed. “Honey, we just
had sex. Why are you still looking at me like that?”

He couldn’t stop himself from cupping her breasts and feathering his thumbs across her

nipples. Responsive as she was, they immediately puckered. “I can’t help it.”

She laughed again, but this one sounded a bit forced. “Shouldn’t you be demanding a

sandwich and taking a nap?”

What kind of idiots had she dated before now? He wasn’t about to miss any opportunity

to touch her—to demonstrate exactly how much he wanted her.

But Roxanne was more skittish than a wild animal. She’d effectively shut him down

every time he so much as mentioned the future or making plans or anything that
referenced them other than in the immediate present. He wasn’t exactly sure how to get
around that. Hell, maybe he could sex her into submission.

Even as the thought crossed his mind, he knew it for a lie. Roxanne used sex as a

weapon, as a defense mechanism. It didn’t mean she was unaffected—no way was she as
detached as she acted, or she wouldn’t be so desperate when he brought up dating—but
she wasn’t about to let him in yet.

“Ian?”
“Yeah?” He wrapped his arms around her waist and propped his chin on the top of her

head.

“You scare the shit out of me.”
He turned her around and kissed her, keeping it light, trying to convey what he felt

without saying too much and ruining the moment by scaring her further. When he drew
back, her green eyes were wide. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. I would never hurt you.”
He reached past her and grabbed the body wash.

“What are you doing?”
“I seem to remember you telling me that you were in need of a very thorough

cleaning.”

She laughed, and this time, it didn’t sound as forced. “I hate to be the one to break this

to you, but that was me hitting on you.”

“Relax, woman, and let me soap you up.”
She arched her brow, but that hint of vulnerability crept into the depths of her eyes

again. “If you want to get into my pants again, you don’t have to play games like this.”

Of course she couldn’t let the moment lie. She had to go and throw some sexual

innuendo in there. “Roxanne, you aren’t wearing pants.” When she didn’t move, he
sighed. “I’d really appreciate if you’d let me wash you.”

“You argue about the strangest things.”
She had a valid point, but for some reason this mattered to him. Part of it was because

the comfort level it symbolized had nothing to do with sex, but mostly he wanted to
stretch out this moment of peace between them as long as possible. He held up his sudsy
hands. “Well?”

“Okay. You win.”

“It’s not about winning. It’s about being closer to you.” Ian didn’t wait for her to change

her mind. He turned her around and pulled her against him. The position gave him full
access to the front of her body, and though he kind of wanted to linger, he refused to let
this lead to sex. Not now, when he finally understood that sex was yet another wall he
had to scale in order to get to Roxanne’s heart. After soaping up her front, he turned her
around again. “Come here.”

She looped her arms around his neck and leaned into him, resting her forehead on his

shoulder. He rubbed her back, taking the time to work on the tense muscles lining her
spine. It wasn’t as effective as if he had her laid out before him, but Roxanne did relax
against him. Since she didn’t immediately pull away when he rinsed her, he grabbed the
shampoo and went to work on her hair.

“I can wash my hair, you know.” Her voice sounded a little shaky.
“Do you want me to stop?”
He held still, waiting for her answer. This question, as simple as it seemed, mattered a

lot more than he would have guessed. Either she would fight him on this like she’d fought
him every step of the way up to this point, or they’d finally take a step in the right
direction.

“No. I don’t want you to stop.” She sighed, the last of the tension leaving her body.

“You know, I meant what I said last night.”

“What’s that?”
“I kind of like you.”
Part of him wanted to laugh, but this time, her confession felt like an actual move

forward. It couldn’t have been easy for her to admit even that much. He smiled against
her hair. “I kind of like you, too.”

He took his time running his hands over her body, liking how strangely comfortable this

was. Or maybe he was in such a good mood because he’d actually slept through the night
again last night. She’d pushed him past all the boundaries he thought he’d been confined
by and had given him a glimpse of the normalcy he craved more than anything else in the
world. He wanted that life—and Roxanne—more than he’d ever dreamed possible.

Chapter Thirteen

Roxanne pulled Ian’s sweatshirt more firmly around her and settled down to watch him
make breakfast. Apparently, he’d been serious about all that. When she’d tried to make a
smooth escape, all he had to do was dangle a meal in front of her and she caved. She
was pathetic and easy…and that omelet smelled really freaking good.

“How do you feel about dinner next week?”
The breakthrough in the shower, no matter how small it might have been to him, still

felt like a big deal to her. She slouched in her seat until the sweatshirt hit her chin, as if
that would really offer a barrier. “Eating it or eating it with you?”

He looked up and sighed. “With me, Roxanne. That kind of goes without saying since

I’m asking you in the first place.”

Yeah, it had, but she didn’t know how to respond so she’d tried stalling. Too bad she

still didn’t know what the right answer was. Because she really did want dinner with Ian—
more than could possibly be safe. Hell, she wanted him more than could possibly be safe.
She’d told him she kind of liked him, but that was only a half-truth. The reality of the
situation was that she currently teetered on the edge of that disastrous word she couldn’t
even bear to think. Her mother would slap the shit out of her if she did. “I don’t think
that’s a good idea.”

He flipped the eggs in one of those fancy moves that didn’t require a spatula. “Why

not?”

Yes, Rox, why not? What could possibly be a bad idea about a sexy man who wants to

take you out and give you mind-blowing orgasms? Oh wait, nothing’s wrong with it, which
is exactly the problem. You’re half a step away from falling head over heels for this guy,
and you know how that ends.

Roxanne told her inner voice to shut the hell up and grasped for the first thing that

popped into her head. “Elle won’t like it.”

Ian turned off the stove and dumped the omelet onto a plate. “You won’t go out with

me because you’re worried my sister won’t approve?”

Why did he sound so damn calm? Last time she’d told him they couldn’t date, they’d

ended up yelling at each other. She sensed a trap, but she couldn’t figure out where it
was. “Yes…?”

“I see. Here, eat it while it’s still hot.” He passed her the plate and a fork and then

went to fill her up a glass of orange juice.

She took a bite of the omelet and moaned. What he’d put in this thing? Sheer magic?

“Oh my God.” The man was playing dirty, and she couldn’t even hate him for it because
he was feeding her.

She was so wrapped up in the amazingness going on in her mouth that she didn’t pay

attention until Ian said, “Hey, Ellie, I have a question for you.”

Roxanne choked. “Don’t you dare!”
“Yes, I’m doing better. Settling in and working on the house.” He dodged the fork she

threw at him without missing a beat. “Yep, I talked to Roxanne. She’s a great listener.”

She was going to kill him. She considered throwing the plate, but that meant

abandoning the rest of the omelet, and she couldn’t force herself to take such a drastic
step. “Stop it, Ian. Right now. This isn’t funny.”

The asshole had the audacity to press the phone to his shoulder and nod gravely.

“You’re right. It’s of the utmost seriousness. Don’t forget your orange juice.”

“Bastard!”
But he was back on the phone. “Actually, Elle, that is Roxanne in the background.

That’s what I called to talk to you about. Do you have a problem with me dating your
best friend?”

The entire room went fluid, and Roxanne wondered if she should put her head between

her legs. Holy shit, he’d actually gone and done it. The asshole called her bluff. While he
sat on the phone and made noises of agreement, she stared at her omelet as if it were
the source of her downfall. Why did it have to be so tempting? If she hadn’t been so weak
when it came to good food, she could have avoided this conversation for at least another
week, enjoying more Ian-created orgasms instead.

She already missed those orgasms.
“Roxanne.” He squeezed her hand. “Rox, my sister wants to talk to you.”
Of course she did. Numb, she took the phone and pressed it to her ear. It took three

tries to actually find words. “Hey, honey.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were going out with my brother.”
“Think about that statement for a second, and I think you’ll understand.” It was on the

tip of her tongue to say they weren’t going out at all, but all that would do is open up a
conversation about Roxanne having a one-night stand that wasn’t a one-night stand with
Ian. Not exactly a comfortable topic to cover with his little sister.

“Do you think it’s serious between you two?”
’Cause this topic was so much less uncomfortable. “Now’s not really a good time to get

into it.”

“I see.” Elle was quiet for all of a heartbeat. “We’re going to talk soon, okay?”
Wow, that sounded a whole lot like a threat. This was a side of Elle that she’d never

dealt with before. Hell, she didn’t want to deal with it now—or ever. “Sure. See you.” She
hung up before her best friend could change her mind and decide they were going to talk
right now, and flung the phone at Ian. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

The bastard caught it as if she hadn’t been aiming at his head. “You said you wouldn’t

go out with me because of Elle. I removed the obstacle.”

“Did you ever stop to think that maybe I liked the obstacle right where it was?” Now

she was going to be forced into a seriously uncomfortable conversation she didn’t want to
have. She started to get up, with every intention of storming out the door, but Ian
handed her a new fork. She glared at it, then at him. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t. You kind of like me.”
“You’re going to throw that in my face a lot, aren’t you?” Strange, but it didn’t bother

her as much as she’d have thought.

He grinned. “Yep. But don’t forget, I kind of like you, too.”
She sank back into her chair. That actually made things worse. It was going to be so

much more difficult to keep her head with him falling right alongside her. The guy she’d
dated before the cheater had said he’d fallen in love with her—had even shed a single
tear when she confessed she’d fallen for him, too. And then he’d gone out to his car to
get her “a surprise.”

And never came back.
“So, about dinner.”
“We already had dinner.” Goddamn her weakness, but this omelet was seriously good.

She took another bite.

“I want to have dinner again.”
“What if I don’t?” She mostly asked the question out of curiosity. He’d pursued her

pretty doggedly at this point. Would he keep on chasing her even if she kept saying no?
She wasn’t sure which answer was the one she’d prefer.

Only the tension in his shoulders gave away how annoyed he was right now. “Okay, I’ll

bite. Do you want to go to dinner with me, Roxanne? Several dinners? Maybe a few other
dates to mix it up?”

“I—”
“Because if you say no, I’ll drop it. Right here, right now, I’ll walk away and leave you

alone, and I’ll let this whole thing with you go.”

Was that was what she wanted? If he left her alone, she wouldn’t have to worry about

things like why her heart beat faster just from being in the same room as him. Or why the
thought of never seeing him again made her eyes burn in a way that so wasn’t almost-
tears. All she had to do was tell him that she didn’t want to go out with him, and all her
problems were solved.

So why couldn’t she force herself to say the words?
“That’s not fair.”
He held up a hand. “It’s a pretty simple question. Do you want to go out with me again

or not?”

“I…” Goddamn it, but as much as she hated it, there was only one answer. Roxanne

pushed her plate away and mumbled, “I want to go out with you.”

“You’re going to need to speak up.”
She glared, kind of wishing she could shoot laser beams out of her eyes, though it

would be a tragedy to waste that body. “I want to go out with you.”

He grinned as if he’d never doubted her answer. “Was that so hard?”
“Don’t push it.”
“Can’t help it. It’s my nature.”
“Yeah, well, your nature sucks.” She crossed her arms over her chest, realized she was

pouting, and uncrossed them. “I have things I have to do today, and none of them
involves lazing about with you.” Even if that sounded like a dream day.

He kissed her, the sweetness of the touch nearly taking her breath away. When he

finally moved back, he was grinning like a fool. “You’re a terrible loser.”

It was difficult to keep glaring in the face of that grin. Stupid unicorn, taking away her

steam before she got a good mad rolling. “You should see me play Monopoly.”

“God help anyone standing in your path.”
She finally gave in and dredged up a smile. “Pretty much. It’s all smiting and the

ruination of my opponents.”

“We’ll have to play sometime.”
The kicker of it was, she wanted to play with him. Ian was an intelligent guy, and it

would be fun to match her wits against his and see who came out on top. She could
picture nights spent like that, playing games or watching television or verbally sparring
over silly things. The sheer amount of want that coursed through her at the image of that
future nearly made her sway.

He smoothed back her hair. “You should get going before we get distracted and you

lose your entire day.”

“Yeah… You’re right.” It was more of an effort than it should have been to turn away.

Considering she didn’t want this to begin with, that didn’t make any sort of sense, but her
head was going to start hurting if she examined it too long.

She pulled on her shoes, grabbed her purse, and headed for the door. She had it open

when Ian’s voice stopped her.

“Roxanne.”
She gave him innocent eyes when she turned around. “Yep?”
“I’ll see you next Wednesday at seven. And don’t worry about forgetting. I’ll call later

and remind you.” He grinned and waved his phone. “Which means I’m going to need your
number—unless you want me to call my sister and ask for it?”

And run the risk of Elle flipping out? No, thanks. Roxanne sighed and rattled it off. Her

best friend was a problem for another day. “See you later.”

“Yes, you will.”

Chapter Fourteen

Ian spent the next few days tying up loose ends with his house. The monstrosity sat on
five acres just northwest of town and would require quite a few months of intense
renovations before it became the dream house he wanted. Most people wouldn’t be
interested in a total overhaul, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. In his mind, he and
the house had quite a bit in common. Both of them were works in progress, and it would
take the work of careful hands to make them reach their full potential. It seemed kind of
silly, but he couldn’t shake the belief.

Beyond that, the physical toll it would take to get this place in shape was one he

welcomed.

Which was why he was here, walking the property, right now. He’d just come out of a

meeting with father, and he had a lot to think about. The offer stood before him—come
back  to  the  family  business,  with  the  understanding  that  he’d  be  taking  a  more
“administrative” role. Ian knew what that meant. His dad was getting close to retirement,
and  he  was  tired  of  all  the  traveling  required  to  keep  up  with  all  their  contracting
companies  around  the  country.  Taking  the  job  meant  taking  his  father’s  place,  which
meant Ian would be seeing the inside of a lot of airports and conference rooms.

Accepting the job was more than just risking bowing to family pressure, though. Right

now, his entire future stood before him as one big blank page. Yes, there were endless
possibilities, but possibilities didn’t mean a lot in the face of all that nothingness.

He could go anywhere, and the sheer scope of options daunted him on a bone-deep

level. Ian knew what his therapist would say—that he was chained by his past and
unwilling to move forward with his life—but he didn’t agree with her.

He spun his phone in his hand, acknowledging the truth of the matter—he wanted to

call Roxanne and talk to her about it. They’d been texting on and off since he saw her
last, but he’d been the one driving those conversations. Still, she hadn’t disappeared off
the face of the earth, which he took for a good sign.

What would she say about his father’s offer? He didn’t know, but he wanted her

opinion. Or a distraction. Hell, he wasn’t sure exactly what he wanted from her right this
second, but he knew he wanted her. Before he could talk himself out of it, he dialed her
number. The phone rang half a dozen times before clicking over to voicemail. You’ve
reached Roxanne Stokes. Please leave your name and number, and I’ll get back to you as
soon as possible. She even managed to sound sexy as hell on her answering machine. He
shook his head and put the phone back in his pocket before he could give in to the
temptation to call her again, just to hear her voice.

She might be complicated as all get out and excitable and dramatic and temptation

personified… And there he went again. Every time he tried to objectively look at her pros
and cons, he got sidetracked with all the pros. The woman wasn’t perfect, no, but
everyone looked at Ian and saw what they expected to see—brother, son, soldier, future
of the family business. Everyone except Roxanne. She alone delved past the surface level
to the mess beneath, to the parts of him he was barely holding together. When he was
with her, he wasn’t worried about the future or haunted by the past. He just…was.

At some point she’d have to make the decision that she wanted this. Yes, her agreeing

to another date had been a step in the right direction, but he wasn’t sure it meant what
he’d hoped. She obviously cared about him, but that emotional connection might not be
enough to balance out her fear of the future.

He kicked a rock as he circled back toward his truck. Roxanne aside, he needed to

decide what he was going to do about the position his dad had offered him. It’d be good
money—better than good money—but it also meant being out of town more often than
he was in it. He wasn’t sure he was up to getting back on a plane, not when he still felt
so off-balance. And he’d already seen too much of the world—something he’d admitted as
much to Roxanne the night they met. Settling in one place, giving himself the stability
he’d lacked for the last ten years…that’s what he craved.

His phone rang and for one hopeful second, he was sure it was Roxanne calling him

back. Caller ID proved that wrong. Though he considered not answering, there was no
avoiding this conversation indefinitely. “Hello, Mom.”

“Hello, darling. I wanted to be the first to congratulate you on taking the job your

father offered you.”

He sighed. “I haven’t accepted it yet.”
“But you will. You always do what’s right.”
Though he really didn’t want to talk about this right now, he made an effort to open up

to her. “It’s a lot of traveling. I just got home.” Just found Roxanne. He wouldn’t reject
the job out of hand for her—especially with how up in the air things were between them
—but he was so goddamn tired. What was wrong with wanting a few years back in
Spokane before he took off again?

Not to mention, his current problem with crowds.
“It’s an excellent opportunity, Ian. You’d be foolish to reject it out of hand.”
She didn’t understand. She didn’t even try. All his mother could see was her plan for his

life, and he wasn’t sure he wanted any part of it. “I have to go. I’ll talk to you soon,
though.”

As soon as he figured out what the hell he was going to do with his life.

…

“You want the orchids?” Roxanne asked. “Those are going to press your budget.”

The teenager pressed her hands to her chest, her brown eyes wide and shining a whole

lot. “They’re my dream.”

Of course they were. Every aspect of this sweet-sixteen party was her dream. While

normally she was all about meeting her clients’ needs, this particular brat got on her last
nerve. She wanted the best of the best, to the point that this party was going to be
bigger than most weddings. Talk about being spoiled rotten. This party alone was going
to pay Roxanne’s bills for the next three months, though, so she wasn’t going to
complain. The girl’s demands wouldn’t be an issue, but her parents had put a budget in
place. When she’d first seen the limit, she had almost laughed out loud.

That was before she met the teen diva.
Good thing Roxanne was up for the job. “Of course. I’ll get some samples, and we can

look them over later this week.”

“Great.” The teenager beamed. She rose and beamed brighter. “Guess my mom was

right—you really do know how to do your job.”

Roxanne waited for the door to shut before she pulled out her phone and looked to see

whose call she’d missed. Her stomach erupted in butterflies when she saw it was Ian.

Before she could look too closely at how she felt about the whole thing, she typed out a

quick text. Hey, Charming. What’s up?

She’d barely set her phone on the desk when it buzzed. Just thinking about you.
In the past few days, she’d come to terms with the fact Ian used perfect English in his

texts. It was a weakness of hers—she hated the texting most people used these days.
Intelligence was sexy, and so was correct spelling and punctuation. Roxanne tried not to
be charmed by his lack of spelling and grammatical errors…and failed completely. Or
maybe she was just charmed by the fact that he was thinking of her in the middle of the
day.

Yeah…best not to go too far down that particular road.
With a grin, she typed, Dirty thoughts?
Ha! Always.
Her smile widened. She glanced at her door. Really? Tell me. Lots of juicy details

please.

She set the phone down and started paging through the flower options while she

waited for his response. Orchids weren’t the best decision in her opinion, but the kid
wanted what the kid wanted, and her parents had made it extremely clear that their
precious daughter’s wants were to be met. It wasn’t her job to judge. It was her job to
deliver.

Her phone buzzed. What are you wearing?
Oh, so they were going that direction? Roxanne tapped her phone to her lips, thinking.

She could send him an elaborate description, but she was pretty sure his idea of

description and hers were two different things. Not like Ian cared what brand her heels
were.

A picture was worth a thousand words, though, right?
She stood and crossed to the large mirror across from her desk. Before she could think

—or obsess—too much about it, she propped her hand on her hip and snapped a picture
with her phone. She attached it to the text and sent it along.

Instantly, Damn, woman.
You like? As soon as she typed it out, she regretted it. Damn it, that made her sound so

freaking needy. Someone needed to come up with a way to take back texts. It would
solve a world full of problems.

I like. I’m seriously considering hauling ass over there and taking you to her.
Roxanne frowned and reread the message. To her? Who the hell was her? Was Ian

seriously propositioning her for a threesome? She set her phone down and stared at it.
How was she supposed to respond to that? Because, seriously, she might be down for
some freaky-deaky almost-public sex, but bringing another person into it?

After a long minute, she decided to go with a simple, Her? No way to misinterpret that,

right? If he went down the creeper route, then she’d just avoid, avoid, avoid and ditch
him. And do her damnedest to keep it to herself when Elle asked her why they’d gone
their separate ways. Because she’d definitely ask.

Goddamn it, how did she get into these messes?
Her phone buzzed, and Roxanne considered pretending she hadn’t heard it. All sexy

feelings from his earlier texts were gone, replaced by a vague sense of unease. Taking a
deep breath, she picked up her phone and opened the message. Then she just stared, a
snort slipping free. “Oh my God.”

Her? Oh shit! I meant BED. Stupid autocorrect. Shit!
The snort turned into a giggle. “I can’t even believe this right now.” She shook her

head. Priceless.

…The moment has passed, hasn’t it?
Little bit, yeah.
Thought as much. Well, still thinking of you. Hit me up after your next appointment.
That sounded suspiciously like… God, her neuroses were exhausting. Roxanne typed

out a quick agreement and set the phone aside. It was time to get some work done.

But, yeah, she’d be thinking of Ian for the rest of her day with a stupid freaking grin on

her face.

Chapter Fifteen

Roxanne eyed the bottle of vodka on her counter and reminded herself for the seventh
time in the last ten minutes that she couldn’t get sloshed before Ian showed up. It didn’t
help that he was late. Okay, not late-late. He said he’d be here at seven, and it was
seven ten.

Even knowing he was coming, she still jumped half out of her skin when Ian finally

pounded on the door a minute later. She ran a hand down her dress, wondering if it was
too late to change. Her loft was currently littered with clothes from her countless
wardrobe changes. It had taken an hour, but she’d finally settled on a green halter dress
with a deep plunge in the front and practically no back. Yes, it was probably a little much
for a date, but the look on Ian’s face when she opened the door was totally worth it.

His dark eyes went wide, and his jaw actually dropped before he composed himself.

“Jesus.”

“I’m going to take that as a sign of your approval.”
He rubbed a hand over his mouth, his gaze raking over her one more time. “It definitely

is.”

Then, yeah, it was totally worth it. The green of the dress matched her eyes perfectly,

and she’d curled her hair and thrown on a pair of six-inch black heels. Even with the
added height, Ian still had a few inches on her. Damn, the man was tall. And sexy. And
she was forgetting why they had to leave the house.

Apparently, he was following the same thought track. “You’re making it kind of difficult

to remember we actually have to leave to go on this date.”

“Do we?” She took a step back, and Ian shadowed the move. Roxanne wound a lock of

her hair around her finger. “And here I thought we could break in my virgin couch.”

“You’re not making this any easier.”
“Ha! I’m sure you can handle it.” She lowered her voice. “Handle me.”
He cleared his throat. “We need to get going.”
“Okay, if you insist.” She placed her hand in his and let him lead her out of the

apartment. She waited until they started driving to say, “So, where are we eating? Or do I
have to pick this place, too?”

His grin made her stomach do jumping jacks. Stupid stomach. “Believe it or not, I

actually have a fantastic night planned.”

Of course he did. Because he was terrifyingly perfect. She started to ask if there were

orgasms involved in this plan, but stopped herself. Yes, she wanted Ian, but she’d
actually spent the day looking forward to spending some time with him.

God, she was so in over her head.

“I suppose I’ll just have to sit back, relax, and let you take control?”
“Something like that.” He reached across the center console and squeezed her knee…

and then left his hand there.

Roxanne went stock-still, and even as she tried to tell herself to relax, she couldn’t help

tensing up. It wasn’t her fault. The man was a walking furnace, and the heat of his palm
seemed to be working its way up her inner thigh. It didn’t help that every time she so
much as shifted, his calluses rasped over her skin, setting fire to her senses.

Ian was seducing her, and he wasn’t doing a damn thing.
Good God, this was embarrassing. She wasn’t even sure that his intent was to get her

so hot and bothered, but she was having a hard time focusing on anything other than
where he touched her. It was only when he pulled into the parking garage and stopped
that she looked around. “Where are we?”

“Downtown.” His hand moved several torturous inches up her thigh. “You seem

distracted. Is everything all right?”

“Yep. No problem.” If he wasn’t going to push this, she sure as hell wasn’t going to

either. “So, is this date going to end with us rolling around in bed together?”

“It’s entirely possible.” Which wasn’t a real answer.
“You sure know how to treat a lady.”
“It’s called positive reinforcement.” He kissed her and was out of the car before she

could come up with a snarky reply. “Besides, I can’t seem to keep my hands off you.”

Roxanne adjusted her dress and let him help her to the ground. She kind of hated how

aloof he was while her legs were shaking just from his hand on her leg. “River Park
Square. Huh. Don’t they have cameras set up in this parking garage? Maybe we should
give security a show.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
She tried to be indignant, but the truth was it kind of added to the sexiness knowing

that someone could be watching. “A gentleman wouldn’t point that out.”

He swung her around and pinned her against the wall across from the elevators. The

hard length of his cock pressed into her lower stomach, and it was everything she could
do not to rock to get him where she wanted him. “Never make that mistake. Yes, I’ll wine
you and dine you and enjoy every second of it, but don’t think I’d hesitate to bend you
over the hood of my truck and fuck you blind, even knowing the cameras might be on us.”

She rolled her body against his, drawing a groan from both of them, then nipped his

earlobe. “What makes you think I don’t want exactly that?”

The elevator dinged behind him. “Christ.” Ian maneuvered them around, keeping her in

front of him, probably to hide the monster he had raging in his pants. She purposely
slowed down every other step, forcing him to bump into her ass. Ian growled in her ear
and banded an arm around her waist as the doors slid shut. “You’re playing with fire.”

“Oh?” She slid her hand back to rub against his length. “Think I’ll get burned?”
“Most definitely. And you’ll enjoy every moment of it.”
“I know.” She wanted to suggest they skip dinner and get right to the enjoying, but her

stomach took that opportunity to rumble. Damn it.

“I hope you like sushi and gimmicks.”
“Sushi and gimmicks? What kind of combination is that?” She knew exactly what

restaurant he was taking her to—the sushi conveyor belt one. Even though it wasn’t the
best sushi place in town, there was undeniable glee to be had from picking plates off a
conveyor belt. It also had the added bonus of being quiet, even when all the booths were
full. Roxanne figured that was part of the appeal for him.

They left the elevator and meandered toward the back corner of the building where the

restaurant was located. When he slipped his hand into hers, she nearly tripped over her
own feet at the warm, fuzzy feeling that shot straight to her heart.

Ian held up two fingers to the hostess and leaned into Roxanne’s side. “I’ve been

thinking about fucking you in front of the bathroom mirror all week. Every time I picture
the look on your face as you came, I start counting down the hours until I can do it
again.”

Holy shit. Dazed, she let him lead her back to a booth situated next to one of the three

conveyor belts that ran around the room. Ian slid into the seat across from her and gave
a heart-stopping grin. “Liked that, didn’t you?”

Liked? She felt something a whole lot stronger than like. “Nope. Hated it. Never do it

again.”

“So mean.” His grin widened. “So, Roxanne, how has your week been since I saw you

last?”

He knew exactly what he was doing to her, the ass—keeping her so off-center, she

didn’t know which way was up. It was working. Besides, she found she wanted to tell him
about her week, wanted to share the little random bits that would bore other people to
death. “Pretty productive up until today. I thought I’d be able to get a few things done at
the office this morning, but I have a couple renewing their vows, and the woman had an
emergency meltdown because she gained five pounds.”

“Five pounds?”
“Hey, it might not seem like a big deal to you—or, honestly, to me under normal

circumstances—but when her dress is completely fitted and tailored to her
measurements, five pounds can make or break the whole thing.”

“I…see.” His eyes weren’t glazed over like guys she’d tried to share her work with in the

past. But then, nothing about Ian seemed to be following the rules she’d come to believe
in. Her mother’s rules. He actually seemed to care one way or another, even if he couldn’t
quite seem to wrap his mind around the current crisis.

Chapter Sixteen

Ian  didn’t  bother  keeping  the  conversation  light  as  they  picked  plates  off  the  conveyor
belts  and  ate.  They’d  covered  all  the  safe  topics—and  then  some—already  tonight,  and
while  they  were  out  the  last  time.  She  wasn’t  big  on  sharing,  but  he  wanted  to  know
more. “Tell me about your family.”

Roxanne froze, her chopsticks in the process of picking up a piece of nigiri. “What?”
Her family was one of the many subjects she danced around without ever touching on.

Obviously, it was a sore subject, and he had no doubt it was also the source of her
edginess over starting a future with someone. “Your family. Tell me about them.”

“There’s not much to tell.”
“Then it should be a short conversation before we move on to happier things.”
Roxanne popped the sushi into her mouth and chewed slowly, as if searching for words.

She sipped her soda and leaned back. “It goes like this. Mom got pregnant back in her
first year of college. Dropped out—who has time to go to school and raise a baby?—and
then expected she’d get her happily ever after, since she and her boyfriend were so in
love. Except it didn’t quite end up like that.”

She paused, obviously waiting for him to say something, but Ian wasn’t going to play

that game with her. He grabbed another plate off the conveyor belt and motioned with
his chopsticks for her to continue.

“They tried. They’d been planning on being together forever anyway, so they got

hitched, had a honeymoon—the whole nine yards. But somewhere along the way, things
went bad. There was so much resentment and bitterness and at the end, freaking hate,
that there was nothing left of the love they thought would last forever.”

She shook her head, her mouth twisting as if she couldn’t decide whether to smile or

frown. “Eventually they got around to getting divorced, and Dad took off to whereabouts
unknown. Mom’s still in town, but she’s gone through the same song and dance three
times now—each husband leaving her faster than the one before.”

“I’m sorry.” His own parents’ marriage had gone through its rocky patches, especially

because of how often his dad was away on business, and Ian had vivid memories of how
sick it made him to hear his happy-go-lucky dad raise his voice in anger. He couldn’t
imagine living with that for years on end. No wonder Roxanne didn’t talk about her family
all that much.

“Don’t be sorry. Shit happens. You can’t put two people in that kind of trap without at

least one of them trying to gnaw off their leg in an effort to get free.”

Ian blinked. “Marriage isn’t a trap.”
“I wasn’t talking about marriage.”

The truth hit him between the eyes. “You think love is a trap?”
“Don’t you?” Roxanne set down her chopsticks and picked them up again, obviously

agitated. “It’s the only emotion that makes people experience a false high, better than
any drug on the market. Two people in love believe in miracles. They believe that all they
need is love to conquer the world. It’s all a lie.”

“Says who?”
“My parents believed they were in love, and look what happened—as soon as hard

times came, it all fell apart. I’ve seen it happen with my friends’ parents. Hell, I’ve seen it
happen with my friends themselves.”

“Just because you’ve seen a few bad examples—”
“The divorce rate in this country is well over 50 percent. That’s not a few isolated

examples, Ian. That’s fact.”

He sat back. “One could argue that’s more a reflection of our culture than anything to

do with love.”

“It’s the same damn thing. We’re encouraged to marry for love, and then those new

relationship vibes run out, and all you’re left with is some near-stranger who you are
incompatible with in every way but sexually. You end up resenting them because you’re
trapped, and all that hate turns into a toxic mix that’s damn near unlivable. Falling in love
is the beginning of the end for every relationship. It just takes some longer to realize it
than others.”

“That’s a really cynical way of looking at things.”
“No. That’s the only way to look at things.”
“I think we’re going to have to agree to disagree there.” Though how he was supposed

to go about dating a woman who thought falling in love was the worst thing that could
happen to a relationship was something he’d have to take some serious time to consider.
He understood where she was coming from, at least on a superficial level. If all Roxanne
had ever experienced in relationships was bitter resentment, it stood to reason that she’d
expect that.

But he didn’t believe that. Yes, some people got so caught up in the high of a new

relationship that they didn’t bother to find out if they had anything in common with the
other person, but that didn’t mean love itself was the problem. A fact he had no idea how
he’d get her to understand. If he even could.

Now that was a depressing thought.
He glanced up to find her staring at him. “What?”
“You’re thinking awfully hard over there.” She frowned. “You aren’t scheming, are you?”
“I’m always scheming.”
She smiled, some of the tightness around her eyes disappearing. “So, moving on to less

depressing topics, what are you planning to do now that you’re back in town?”

He didn’t really want to get into it, but turnabout was fair play. He may not have liked

what Roxanne had to say, but he recognized it for the leap of faith it’d been even to talk
about her feelings. He couldn’t repay that by shutting down her question. Besides, hadn’t
he been so tempted to call her earlier this week with his dilemma? “I’m thinking about
going to work for my dad.”

“Excuse me, what? I could have sworn I just heard you say you’re going to do the exact

thing you wanted to avoid after you graduated high school.”

“Things change.”
“I won’t argue that, but this is a conversation you and I had only a little over a week

ago. What happened between then and now to change your mind? Because I thought you
were pretty clear you weren’t interested in the organic farming business.”

“It’s less that I wasn’t interested, and more that I wanted to… I don’t know. Have my

own identity, I guess.”

“How incredibly selfish of you.” She reached across the table and laid her hand over his.

“You know you’re allowed to want that, right?”

“I’m aware.”
“So what changed?”
How to explain this? From what Roxanne had said, she wasn’t close to her parents, and

there wasn’t much love lost between them. He wasn’t sure he could make her understand
his reasoning. “They need me.”

“Of course they do.”
“No, hear me out. I don’t know if Elle told you, but my dad’s been moving into more of

a desk-job-type role in the company. He’s not able to travel as much as he needs to with
our big corporate clients, so he’s been spending more of his time in the local office. From
what he says, he’d rather be working in town than dealing with the politics that comes
from distributing as widely as we do.”

Roxanne pursed her lips. “So? What’s that have to do with you?”
It blew his mind a little bit that she was feeling protective of him, especially when she

continued to stress how much she didn’t want anything other than what they shared right
now. If it was only sex, she wouldn’t react like this. “The company is expanding. He needs
help.”

“And what’s to stop him from hiring someone else? Why does it have to be you?”
A good question—one Ian had brought up when he talked to his dad. “He wants to keep

it in the family.” To groom Ian to take over when he fully retired.

“I see. So how do you feel about it?”
Another good question. “I honestly don’t know.” He should have stopped there, but

words slipped free before he could think better of it. “I don’t know if I’m ready, what with
all my…issues. On the other hand, he needs me. It’ll be really good money, too.”

“Money is disposable. Mental health isn’t.”
“I won’t take the job if I don’t think I can handle it. If I need a little more time, they’ll

give it to me.” He hoped.

She narrowed her eyes, their green depths seeing too much. “That’s not all, is it? You’re

not a pushover with an overdeveloped sense of guilt like your sister is, God bless her.
She’s getting better, but even now she occasionally folds to your mom. You don’t. So
what gives?”

“I grew up with this company. It was my first—my only—job before I enlisted. I—”
“You miss it.” She squeezed his hand before taking hers back and reaching for her

drink. Ian ached for the contact immediately. “I don’t get it. If you want to work for your
dad, then why all the drama? Why not just, you know, work for him?”

How to explain this without sounding like an idiot? He almost wished she were less

perceptive, but she was the only one he wanted to talk to about this. She had no stake in
it, unlike his family. Even Elle’s opinion—no matter which way she went—would be
colored by what their parents wanted. Roxanne was only worried about him.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I feel like I’m failing. I put in all this effort

and made this big stink about running off to have my own life. Now I’ve been back in
town under a month, and I’m already considering sliding into the fold of things again. It’s
like I never left.”

“Do you really think that?” Roxanne stirred the ice in her drink. “You aren’t the same

person you were ten years ago, right?”

Ian thought over all things he’d done. All the things he’d seen. Lots of them weren’t

memories he’d treasure for the rest of his life, and he could have done without the
nightmares, but he saw her point. “No. I’m not the same person.”

“Then what’s the big deal if you actually want to be a…farmer?”
He cracked a smile at that. “It’s corporate agriculture. I’ll be dealing with our clients,

locally and elsewhere. Organic food is a changing field, like anything else—so it’d be
necessary to look over the competition.” When she laughed, he asked, “What?”

“You mean you’re not going to be shirtless with a pair of worn overalls, wearing a straw

hat?”

He chuckled. “Sorry to disappoint.”
“There you go, ruining the fantasy for me.” Roxanne cleared her throat and affected a

serious expression. “But either way, at least this way you’re making your own decision,
rather than just kind of inheriting it. Don’t you think that makes a difference?”

That was a completely different way of looking at it. Not as falling back into a trap he’d

thought himself free of, but as making a choice to take a certain path, no better than the
other. Christ, he felt about fifteen pounds lighter for the realization. “I never thought
about it like that.”

Chapter Seventeen

After realizing how much pressure they must have been putting on him, Roxanne wanted
to drive out to Ian’s parents’ house and slap some sense into them, which was not a
rational response. No, it was yet another brick in that damning wall of evidence of her
feelings for the man.

She was tipping over the edge of just liking Ian into something far more devastating,

and she couldn’t do anything about it. Her past lay there behind her, barren and lonely,
broken only by surface interactions here and there, all because she was so terrified of
falling in love. Ian had been back in town under two weeks, and she was already neck-
deep and sinking fast. She cared. She wanted him to be happy, wanted to wipe those
shadows from his eyes. Hell, she just plain wanted.

She sighed. “Ice cream?”
“You know, the stuff that’s cold and sweet and melts on your tongue? Don’t tell me

you’re one of those insane people who don’t like ice cream.”

In all reality, she loved ice cream—and had a stash of four different kinds in her freezer

right now—but Roxanne couldn’t help playing devil’s advocate. “Just because you like ice
cream doesn’t mean everyone should.”

Ian shot her a horrified look. “It’s un-American to hate ice cream.”
“Ice cream isn’t American. It came across the Atlantic, just like everything else

fantastic.”

“I can list half a dozen awesome things that originated here.” He shook his head, but a

smile crept across his lips. “Back to the point, how do you really feel about ice cream?”

Was he going to suggest she dump it on her naked body and have him lick it off?

Because she could get into that idea. Hell, she could get into any idea that involved being
naked with Ian’s mouth on her. Yum.

From the look on his face, he knew exactly which turn her thoughts had taken. “Well?”
What was the question? Oh, right. Ice cream. She smiled. “I happen to have a deep and

abiding love for ice cream.”

“Thank God. I was about to call the whole thing off. Some things I refuse to

compromise on.”

The fact that they were sitting here, mock-arguing about their relationship, and she

was only feeling the slightest flutter of panic amazed her. “Guess I just dodged a bullet
then, huh?”

“Most definitely.” He put a stack of bills in the tab book and set it on the table. “You

ready to go?”

“If there’s ice cream involved, then yes.” She took his hand and let him pull her to her

feet. God, touching him felt good, even if it was innocent contact.

“I hoped you’d say that.”
Roxanne found herself holding her breath as they walked through the parking garage to

his truck. It was hard to look at the shiny red hood without seeing the image he’d
described earlier—her bent over it with her dress up around her hips while he made her
scream his name. She wanted that. She wanted that a lot. But she also wanted the rest
of it, too—the conversations and joking and innocent touches.

Which should’ve terrified her.
And yet…it didn’t.
Better not to spend too much time thinking on that. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
He laughed as he opened the door and then stepped into the gap when she slid into

the seat. “Patience, grasshopper. I promise it’ll be worth the wait.”

“I know.” And she did. She leaned over and kissed him, liking the fact that his jacked-up

truck put them at exactly the same height. She pulled back before they could get carried
away—there was a bowl of ice cream with her name on it waiting for her, after all. “You
should know by now that I have an intense weakness for good food.”

“I’ve noticed.” He ran his hands up her thighs, stopping just short of the hem of her

dress. “It’s one of the many things I like about you.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere.” As would food. And charm. And… Yeah, best not to

go too far down that rabbit hole or she’d start worrying that she was easy. Hell, even if
she was, who cared? It wasn’t like she’d left a trail of broken lovers behind her. It was
more the other way around.

By the time she reeled her thoughts back in, Ian was in the truck, and they were on

their way to get ice cream. He stretched his arm over the back of the seat and around her
shoulders. “Thank you for giving this a go.”

Roxanne attempted a smile. “You’re feeding me and throwing in some hot sex to

sweeten the pot. I never stood a chance.” The words didn’t come out as light and funny
as she’d meant, probably because they weren’t the full truth. Ian brought so much more
to the table, more than she could have ever dreamed.

But then he ran his fingers through her hair and her heart did a funny little jump that

scared the shit out of her. Roxanne had never felt so fragile in her entire life. Not now
that he had her cuddled up against him as if she actually mattered—which was exactly
what he kept claiming.

She was starting to actually believe him.
After they got ice cream, he drove north to a small park tucked down next to the Little

Spokane River. She had been there a few times when she was a kid, but everything
seemed different in the dark. The trees towered over the river and sprawling lawn,
creating an atmosphere she might have found terrifying if Ian hadn’t been by her side.

She let him lead her down the path and over the bridge to where the picnic tables were

situated. Feeling off-center from the romantic turn the night had taken, she resorted to
humor. “You aren’t planning on bashing me over the head and throwing my body into the
river, are you?”

He snorted. “And waste perfectly good ice cream? I don’t think so.”
They sat on the table closest to the water. As she ate her double chocolate brownie

Blizzard, she let the sound of the river running over the rocks push everything else away.
In this moment, there was only this night and the man beside her. If there’d ever been
anything more perfect, she hadn’t experienced it. “This is nice.”

“It really is.” He squeezed her knee. “This could be our place.”
Our place. After taking a deep breath, she dredged up a shaky smile. “Sure.”
Ian laughed and kissed her temple. “Sorry. No pressure.”
Her next breath came a little bit easier. “Right. No pressure.” She finished the last of

her ice cream in silence. Maybe it was time to stop overthinking everything. Just because
her mother had been right one hundred percent of the time up to this point didn’t mean
she was right this time. Ian made her feel safe and needed, something she’d never
experienced before. How could that ever be a bad thing?

“Are you ready?”
Ready? She realized she’d been staring into the shadows of her empty cup for God

knew how long. If that wasn’t a declaration of being well-adjusted, she didn’t know what
was. She tossed her garbage into the can next to the end of the table. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

He held her hand as they drove to her place. A slow country song that wasn’t her cup of

tea twanged over the radio but, strangely enough, it seemed to fit the moment.

After they pulled into her driveway, he shut off the truck, and they sat there, listening

to the engine tick as it cooled off. Apparently, he was waiting for some sort of signal from
her. He was nothing if not considerate. If she gave him a kiss on the cheek and left him
at her front door, he’d be as okay with that as he’d be if she invited him in. What a novel
concept.

While part of her wanted to throw caution to the wind and get naked with him again,

after the conversation they’d had at dinner and the growing connection at the park, it felt
wrong to sully it with her avoidance issues.

But she didn’t want him to leave.
Roxanne raised her head and took a deep breath, trying to steel herself enough to ask,

“Will you stay tonight?”

“Do you want me to?”
“Yes.” She bit her lip, not quite able to look him in the eyes. This felt different than

before, far more intimate. It was one thing to throw caution to the wind and sleep with
him. It was something else altogether to seek out this. “I… Would you just hold me

tonight?”

He smiled. “I’m good with that.”
“Okay.” God, this shouldn’t be such a big deal. But it was a big deal. It felt like a step in

the right direction, which was more than she’d ever allowed herself before.

Ian got out of the truck and walked around to open her door. The ride up the elevator

to her floor was silent, though he didn’t once let go of her hand. She unlocked her door
and led the way inside, wondering what he would think of her loft. Though she’d moved
here six months ago, she didn’t make a habit of entertaining—Elle’s house was way better
suited  to  that  kind  of  stuff—so  the  living  area  only  held  a  couch  and  a  love  seat,  with
lamps  situated  for  reading.  Her  bed  was  partially  hidden  behind  a  privacy  screen  with
cherry  blossoms  painted  on  it.  She’d  specifically  mounted  the  television  on  a  portion  of
the  wall  that  could  be  seen  by  both  the  bed  and  the  couch,  which  opened  up  the
question… Where should they sit?

She was overthinking again. Roxanne kicked off her shoes and glanced at him. “Do you

want a drink or something?”

“Nah, I’m good.” Ian ran a hand over her tiny dining room table. It was a custom piece,

made out of wrought iron with comfy cushions on the seats. She’d had it shipped in from
Portland last year after she’d stumbled across the shop during one of her research trips
for a bride. “I like the chairs.”

“Thank you.”
He moved around the room, pausing when he reached her dresser. It was a huge piece

of furniture, its wood darkened with age. “This is missing a knob.”

She moved to stand next to him. “It has been ever since I picked up it from the antique

shop.”

“I like it.” He ran his hand over the drawer. “It’s quirky.”
“I keep meaning to buy a replacement, but I just haven’t found the right piece yet.” The

words resonated inside her, extending beyond the subject of the dresser.

Ian gave her a long look that made it clear he’d caught the double meaning, too.
God, this wasn’t awkward at all. “I’m going to change.” She grabbed a pair of yoga

pants and tank top from one of the drawers not missing its knob and headed into the
bathroom—no reason to taunt him with changing in the same room. “I’ll be back in a
minute.”

When she came back, she found Ian lounging on her bed, shirtless. He’d turned on the

television and had his arms propped behind his head. He couldn’t have looked more
seductive if he’d tried, though if his intent study of whatever show he’d turned on was any
indication, he had no idea he’d affected her so strongly.

He’d also taken away her options. Roxanne sidled closer to the bed, all too aware of

how ridiculous she was being. This was Ian, the same man she’d had sex with more than

a few times. He’d seen her naked and out of her mind with pleasure. It wasn’t like he’d
judge her for what she was wearing now.

“You going to sit down or stand there and stare at me a while longer?” He spoke

without looking away from the television.

“No, no. I’m going to sit down.” Because she hadn’t just been standing there, staring

like some sort of creeper. She climbed onto the bed and crawled over to him, wishing all
the while that she’d worn a bra. But they were supposed to be curling up and sleeping,
and she never wore a bra to bed, so she hadn’t thought twice about taking it off when
she changed.

“Come here.” Ian pulled her closer and tucked her against his chest. He leaned his

cheek against the top of her head. “There. This is nice, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” She smiled against his chest. Look what she could accomplish if she got out of

her  own  way.  Though  they  had  most  of  their  clothes  in  place  and  were  only  cuddling
while  watching  television—pretty  much  the  most  mundane  activity  she  could  think  of—
she was enjoying herself. All without doing anything to sabotage it. She snuggled closer
to Ian, inhaling the fresh scent of him. It quieted her inner voices like little else could. It
wasn’t  an  excuse  for  passing  out  sprawled  over  his  chest,  but  Roxanne  couldn’t  exactly
help herself.

She was head over heels for this man.

Chapter Eighteen

Ian liked waking up next to Roxanne. He liked it a lot, and not just because it meant
another eight hours of nightmare-free sleep. When he moved to keep his arm from falling
asleep, she made a small noise and opened her eyes. Would he ever get used to their
vibrant green color? He sure as hell hoped not. “Hey there.”

Roxanne gave a small smile. “Hi.” Then she glanced at the clock on the nightstand.

“Crap. I have to get moving.”

“Me, too.” Ian brushed back her hair. “What are you doing tomorrow?” Since it’d be

Friday, he was reasonably sure she’d be free.

“I think I could free up my schedule for you.”
“I appreciate you making the effort.” And now for the clincher. He cleared his throat,

cursing himself for saving this for the morning when he’d much rather be wrapped up in
her warm, soft body. “My family has browbeaten me into going out to eat with them. I’d
like you to come with.”

She made a face, but he didn’t miss the flicker of fear in her eyes. “That sounds

serious.”

In a way, it was. His mother hadn’t exactly left any wiggle room when she’d extended

the invitation to the woman he was seeing, but he wanted Roxanne at that dinner for a
number of reasons. “My mom is insisting on having dinner at this huge restaurant. I’d
really like you to be there.” He didn’t know how he’d get through it without her around to
anchor him, but damn it if he couldn’t bring himself to say the words aloud.

She knew, of course. Even though it obviously scared the crap out of her, she squeezed

his arm. “If you want me there, I’ll be there.”

Relief coursed through him, and he kissed her. “I want you. There and otherwise.”
“You’re such a charmer.” Roxanne stretched. “I really need to shower, and as great as

it’d be to share my water supply, I think that would expand the shower time
exponentially.”

Since just hearing the word “shower” slammed Ian with images of her naked, water

dripping along all the right places, he couldn’t disagree. “You’re probably right.”

She started to sit up and stopped to lay her hand against his cheek. “Thank you. For

getting it, for staying last night, for everything.”

“Always.” He took her hand and pressed a kiss against her palm. “Now go get ready. I’ll

show myself out and text you in a little bit.”

“Text, huh? Are you finally going to introduce me to this mysterious her you mentioned?

Because I’m beside myself with anticipation.”

“Smart-ass.”

“You know it.” She slid off the bed and paused to give him a sultry look before she

disappeared into the bathroom.

“Tease.”
“That, too.” Roxanne shut the door. He thought about saying to hell with it and joining

her anyway, but he was supposed to be supportive, and that meant not making her late
for work.

Being supportive sucked.
With a groan, he climbed out of bed and grabbed his shirt. Though he’d wanted nothing

more than to strip her naked and do wonderful, filthy things to her last night, Ian had
managed to keep his control. As a result, he was in a state of what could only be called
“seriously uncomfortable” at the moment.

Yeah, being supportive definitely sucked.
It was worth it, though. The only way this thing with Roxanne would work was if she

trusted him and if their relationship moved beyond sex. Last night had been a pretty good
start, though he’d be an idiot if he thought the battle was won.

He checked to make sure he had his keys and wallet and stopped in the kitchen. She

had  one  of  those  cutsie  little  notepads  attached  to  her  fridge,  complete  with  pink  pen.
Grinning,  he  grabbed  the  pen  and  wrote  out  a  quick  note.  It  was  only  fair,  considering
she’d  done  the  same  thing  to  him  the  first  time  they’d  spent  the  night  together.  Ian
headed for the elevator, feeling remarkably light on his feet for someone who’d run the
emotional gamut in the span of twelve hours.

He most definitely could get used to this.

…

By the time five o’clock on Friday rolled around, Roxanne wasn’t sure she could survive
going through with dinner.

It wasn’t so bad during the day with work to keep her occupied. Teenagers did a

number on her stress level. If she needed more motivation to keep up on her birth
control, she’d gotten it today with that little diva. Strippers at a sweet-sixteen party?
Roxanne had always thought herself pretty outrageous, but that passed even her limits. It
had been everything she could do not to call up the girl’s parents and cancel the whole
damn thing. If their daughter thought mostly naked men were legitimate entertainment
for her age group, then her parents had dropped the ball somewhere along the line.

Apparently, having a stable home life with parents who were still married still wasn’t

enough to keep from screwing up your kids.

Against her better judgment, her mind presented her with a mental image of two

children. The boy had a riot of dark curls nearly as dark as his eyes, while the girl had
beautiful blond hair and green eyes.

She slammed her mental shutters closed and dug her keys out of her purse. No matter

what she’d decided about Ian, she had no business daydreaming about sharing children
with him. They were already balanced on a precarious enough ledge without throwing
that kind of complication into the mix.

As soon as she walked through her front door, her doubts tried to take hold again. A

family dinner? That was a serious step, even if she was falling for Ian. His little sister
might be her best friend, but she was pretty sure his mom hated her guts. No matter
what she did, she would never be good enough for Elizabeth Walser’s golden boy.

Maybe she should beg off?
Her phone rang, making her nearly jump out of her skin. “Roxanne Stokes.”
“You didn’t check the caller ID, did you?”
She tried to put some smile into her voice, even though her best friend was the very

last person she wanted to talk to right now. “Hey, Elle.”

“You want to know how I know that? You’ve been avoiding my calls for a week now.”
Because she didn’t know if she could deal with the inevitable conversation Elle wanted

to have. It didn’t look like she’d have a choice now. “I’ve been busy.”

“Right. With my brother. Speaking of, what are you doing with my brother?”
Trying not to fall any harder for him than I already have . It was too late. It’d been too

late the night before last, when he’d taken her for ice cream and held her as she fell
asleep. Even though Elle couldn’t see her, Roxanne made an effort to keep her shoulders
back and not slouch like a dog with its tail between its legs. “Dating him.”

“Please don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t date. You flit from guy to guy. I

don’t think you’ve gone on more than three dates with a single person in all the years I’ve
known you.”

Because it was a whole lot easier to avoid love if she didn’t stick around for an

extended period of time. “Ian’s different.”

“I know he’s different. He’s worth something—again, no offense. My brother hasn’t had

the easiest run of it, and the last thing he needs is for you to trample over his heart
because you don’t do commitment.”

She tried not to be insulted—Elle was just speaking the truth. “It’s not like that.”
“Then tell me what it is like! Lord, Roxanne, I asked you to talk to him—not date him.

And then you disappear off the face of the earth and next thing I know, my brother’s
calling asking for permission to date you. Do you have any idea how bizarre this whole
thing is?”

“I care about him.” The words exploded from her, out before she had a chance to take

them back. But now that the floodgates were open, there was no retreating. “He makes
me feel things I’ve never experienced before—want things I’d thought I’d never get a
chance to have. Everything’s changed.” Everything and nothing.

A long pause. “I see.” She took a deep breath. “I love you, but if you hurt him, I might

never forgive you.”

She wanted to say she would never hurt Ian—that she’d walk over burning coals before

she added to the demons he already carried on his shoulders—but she couldn’t force the
words out. Not when she knew they might be a lie. Up until this conversation, all she’d
seen was the potential for him to hurt her. Now she had yet another thing to obsess over.

Roxanne took a shaky breath. “I’m scared, Elle. Really, really scared. I don’t know if I

can get in deeper and then have him walk away. I don’t know if I’ll survive it.”

“Oh, sweetie.” Elle sighed. “Can I tell you a secret?”
Roxanne’s eyes, traitors that they were, burned. “Sure.”
“Sometimes there really is a happily ever after without any strings attached. You just

have to be brave enough to face it.”

“But what if we try and it doesn’t work?”
“What if it does?”
And that was the million-dollar question. She cleared her throat. “I don’t know if I can

do this.”

“You won’t know until you try.”
A single tear slipped free, but some of her overwhelming fear disappeared, as if it’d

been compressed into that tiny drop of salt water. “When did you starting giving such
awesome relationship advice?”

Elle laughed. “I had a really awesome best friend who kicked my butt when I needed it.

I’m just returning the favor.”

“You’re the best.”
“I have my moments. Now go get ready. I hear we’re having dinner tonight, and you

don’t want to be late.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She hung up and kicked off her shoes, coaching herself to keep

breathing. If she was going to do this, she was going to do it right, and for Roxanne, that
started with her appearance. She had two hours until Ian showed up, and she was going
to need every second of it to get ready. It was double the amount of time she normally
used, but Roxanne liked dressing up under even the worst of circumstances, and this was
hardly that. She couldn’t help but smile as she climbed into the shower. What if things did
work out? She wasn’t sure she could live with herself if she didn’t give this thing with him
her best shot.

She hummed under her breath as she soaped up. While it was entirely possible this

would  blow  up  in  her  face,  that  outcome  felt  less  likely  as  time  went  on.  As  Elle  so
helpfully  pointed  out,  Ian  wasn’t  like  any  of  the  guys  she’d  dated  up  to  this  point.  He
wasn’t  the  type  to  confess  undying  devotion  and  then  take  off  without  saying  another
word. Not that he’d done that yet, but if he did.

As she got ready, she thought about their last date. He’d put forth so much effort to

make it the perfect night, and he’d succeeded beyond her wildest dreams. She never
would have guessed she’d be grinning like an idiot over ice cream in a park and cuddling
through the night, or that the smile wouldn’t leave her face even after he left her
apartment that morning.

When the buzzer rang, she grabbed her purse and hurried downstairs. Ian stood on the

top step, his hands in his pockets. With the button-up shirt, sports jacket, and slacks, he
looked like a contract killer trying to play dress-up. No matter what you dressed the man
in, he gave off this aura of danger.

It made her want to lick his abs.
Okay, fine, it wasn’t like she needed a reason to want that.
And now she was staring. “Hi.”
“You look edible, as always. I like you in green.”
Hell, she liked that he liked her in green. Tonight she’d chosen a flowing number that

hit just past her knees, but the material was so light it practically floated around her legs.
Damn it, she had to break the moment or they’d stand here all night, ogling each other.
“Edible, huh? How Hannibal Lecter of you.”

He grinned, his delighted expression nearly making her swoon. Freaking swoon. “I like

to switch things up. Wait until I show you my sex dungeon.”

“You live in a loft above an art gallery—one that belongs to your best friend, I might

add.”

“Just wait until you see what I’ve done with my new house.” He waggled his eyebrows.
“There you go, making promises again.” She slipped her hand into the crook of his arm

as they walked down to his truck. God, she could learn to love that beast, especially with
its bench seats. Too bad there was no time to take advantage of them right now. She let
Ian slide her over to the middle as he turned the engine over. “You, honey, are going
country.”

“Woman, I’ve always been country. I’m just refinding my roots.” He grinned. “Though

we can go cow-tipping later if you’re feeling squirrelly.”

“In these shoes? I think not.”
“Another time, then.”
As they drove, she relaxed into him, letting his clean scent wrap around her and tease

some of the tension from her shoulders. Damn, he smelled good enough that he should
market it as stress relief for horny women. If he included a battery pack with the bottle, it
was an instant buy. Roxanne laughed softly.

“What’s so funny?”
“I was just thinking that I’d like to bottle your scent and sell it with packs of batteries.”
He snorted. “I think you overestimate my appeal to the female population.”

She twisted to get a better look at his face. Chiseled jaw, decadent mouth, and soul-

wrenching eyes—not to mention the body that she still couldn’t quite believe was real. It
was a wonder he managed to walk down the street without women throwing their
panties at him. “I think you underestimate your appeal.”

“Well, there’s only one woman I’m concerned with at this point.”
Her. The thrill that went through her knowing that struck a chord in her very soul.

Roxanne didn’t care what her mother would say. In this moment, there wasn’t another
place she’d rather be than tucked up against Ian’s side. “Lucky woman.”

“I hope she thinks so.” He stared out the windshield. “Rox, I don’t know if I can get

through this dinner. There’s going to be way more people there than I’ve had to deal with
since my first night back, and we both know how well that went.”

“We’ll get through it together.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
The little smile he gave was so vulnerable, so uncertain, Roxanne knew she was a

goner. This was the time to say something, to really put herself out there. She could
choose to be ruled by fear for the rest of her life, or she could take this leap of faith. It
sure as hell felt like she was standing on the edge of a cliff, about to throw herself off
with the hope that she really could fly.

God, she couldn’t breathe.
She closed her eyes and tried to be calm. Just say it. Just speak the words. “I love you.”
Ian’s entire body went tense, and she had a moment to wonder if she’d made a terrible

mistake. But then he squeezed her shoulders and kissed her temple much the same way
he had on the night they took their ice cream to the park. His lips moved against her skin,
the words raspy in the quiet of the truck. “I love you, too.”

Though she half expected the world to explode into a fiery ball of death at their

admissions, nothing happened. He kept driving, holding her so close she was nearly in his
lap. And she kept breathing because the world didn’t end. Every other relationship she’d
been in might have failed horribly, but this was Ian. Things were different with him.

He wouldn’t abandon her.

Chapter Nineteen

Ian could barely believe the turn things had taken with Roxanne. She’d actually said she
loved him. He’d half expected her to scramble out the window when he said it back, but
she’d only laid her head on his shoulder and clutched his hand. This time he was the one
giving comfort through his touch, and the feeling expanding in his chest was almost
enough to chase away his worry about how the rest of the night would go.

He shut off his truck and turned to face her. “Ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” She searched his face, seeming to be comforted by what she

saw there. With a smile, she patted his leg. “Plus, I’m starving.”

“God forbid I stand between you and food.”
“Smart man.” She slid out of the truck after him and laced her fingers through his.
Together, they faced the restaurant. It didn’t look like something worrisome enough to

create the pressure already growing in his chest—just a building with brightly lit windows
and a full parking lot. There was nothing to be afraid of. She must have sensed his
reluctance because she stepped closer, brushing his shoulder with hers. “Just keep
breathing. You can do this.”

Yes. He could do this. Hell, with Roxanne at his side, he felt as if he could do damn

near anything. Ian led the way, pausing just inside the front doors. The waiting area was
standing room only, people packed in like they were in some kind of fucked-up sardine
can. Who the hell could breathe with strangers crowded so close around them? Surely he
wasn’t the only person who’d have issues with this kind of bullshit?

He should have insisted on a home-cooked dinner. Or another trip to the sushi place he

and Roxanne had gone to on their second date. He could only imagine the look on his
mother’s face if she saw the place.

Roxanne pressed against his back. “We can leave. You don’t have to do this.”
“Yes, I do.” His family didn’t realize how bad this little problem of his was, and he had

no intention of letting them find out. Elle would worry, and his dad wouldn’t understand.
His mom… She would try to muscle her way in and take over. He didn’t want to deal with
any of it. “Just tell me again. What you said in the car?”

Roxanne blushed—something he didn’t think was possible. “I love you.”
He nodded and clutched her hand even tighter. Keeping his shoulders back and his chin

up,  he  moved  through  the  crowd  to  the  hostess  and  gave  her  his  father’s  name.  She
smiled  and  led  them  deeper  into  the  restaurant.  For  one  hopeful  moment,  Ian  thought
they  were  headed  to  the  oversize  booths  in  the  back,  but  then  he  caught  sight  of  his
parents  at  a  large  table  right  in  the  middle  of  the  floor.  The  staff  hurried  to  and  fro,
passing it regularly.

This was going to be a nightmare.
Elle looked up and smiled. “Hey, guys!” She sat next to Gabe and across the table from

his parents. The only two spots left were on either side of the table. Sweat beaded on the
back of his neck. No way could he keep a hold of Roxanne’s hand with them seated apart
like that.

“You’re late.” His mom closed her menu with a snap. “We were about to order without

you.”

Ian forced a smile onto his face. “Good thing we showed up when we did. Roxanne

would never forgive me if I got in the way of her dinner.”

His mother sniffed. “I can tell.”
He blinked. Surely he hadn’t just heard her correctly? Before he could say anything,

Roxanne squeezed his hand. “What can I say? I’m a woman who loves my vices.” She
gave him a nudge to the chair next to his mother. She turned to Elle. “You look fabulous.
Love the dress.”

“Thank you. It’s new.”
“I wish you wouldn’t wear black,” his mother said in response. “It washes you out.”
Ian could practically feel the disdain radiating from his mother. Apparently, she was in a

mood, and he had a feeling the fault lay with him. If he hadn’t spent so much time
avoiding going home, he wouldn’t have forced her hand. Not that she would say as much.
Not to him.

Elle paled a bit, but she didn’t shrink in on herself like he’d seen so many times before.

“I like it.”

Guess his little sister really had grown up while he wasn’t looking. Pride rose, a little on

the bittersweet side. She’d always be his baby sister and he’d always feel protective of
her, but he was happy that she seemed more comfortable in her own skin than she’d
been before.

Gabe smiled. “I like it, too, babe.”
The waitress appeared next to the table, startling Ian so badly he nearly cursed aloud.

He jumped when something touched his leg. It took a full five seconds to realize it was
Roxanne’s bare foot pressed against his ankle. She hooked her toe on the bottom of his
slacks and slid her foot up to his calf. It wasn’t as good as holding her hand, but it was
better than nothing. He tried to smile, but the expression didn’t quite make it.

As soon as the waitress retreated with their orders, his mom turned on him. “Have you

made a decision about the offer your father gave you?”

Dad groaned. “Elizabeth, now isn’t the time—”
“On the contrary, I think it’s exactly the right time to talk about this. Heaven knows

we’ve barely seen our son since he arrived back in town.” She turned an appraising eye
on Roxanne. “Though it appears we finally have our answer why.”

Her disappointment choked him, the tiny bit of calm he’d managed to regain

disappearing in an instant. Of course she’d decide to blame his reluctance on one of the
few good things he’d found since he came home. It was only Roxanne’s touch that kept
him from losing it completely. He gritted his teeth. “I’ve been busy.”

“Of course you have. You’ve been running around with this woman and ripping apart

that sad excuse of a house and avoiding any and all attempts I’ve made to talk about
your future.”

Yeah, because he wasn’t sure what he wanted for his future. Ian looked across the

table. There was only one thing he knew for sure—he wanted Roxanne to be part of it.
The rest of it was up for grabs.

Not to mention he’d wanted to avoid the very conversation they were having right now.

“I haven’t made a decision yet.”

“Which is fine. You can take as much time as you need,” his dad cut in, giving Ian’s

mother a look that she promptly ignored.

“I don’t see why. After choosing to spend the last decade away from your family, the

position should suit you perfectly. I would think it’s a ridiculously simple decision to
make.”

Roxanne gave him an odd look. He should have told her the full story about how much

traveling the job would entail, but beyond that, his mother’s words that made him want
to yell in frustration. Only his mother would consider serving his country “abandoning his
family.” She didn’t understand what he’d been through. What he was still going through.

But he couldn’t say as much to his mother—to any of them except the woman with her

foot pressed against his leg right now. He had a moment of wishing he could just come
clean with his family, but it washed away in a haze of panic when a waiter bumped the
back of his chair. Pressure wound around his lungs like a thorny vine, digging in deeper
with each breath.

“I find it surprising that after having your son home less than a month, you’re already

so eager to ship him off again.” Roxanne sipped her water, her face a perfect mask that
gave away nothing. Though Ian tried to catch her eye, she wouldn’t even look at him.
“Why don’t we talk about something else instead?”

His mother zeroed in on her like a heat-seeking missile. “That’s a brilliant idea. Let’s

talk about you.”

“Mom—”
His mother silenced Elle with a single look before turning her attention back to

Roxanne. “We’ve met briefly before, but I can’t seem to remember what it is you do for a
living.”

Yes, she did. She was just angry with Ian and playing games. He opened his mouth to

divert the subject back to him, but Roxanne spoke first.

“I’m a party planner.” For her part, she kept a smile on her face. It wasn’t a real smile,

but it hid how uncomfortable he knew she must be.

Gabe shifted, putting his hand over Elle’s. “She’s the best in the business.”
“Your parents must be so proud.”
“I wouldn’t know. I haven’t spoken to my mother in years.” Her smile got even tighter.

Ian wanted to reach for her, but the goddamn table was in the way. “And, before you ask,
I’m not in communication with my father, either.”

“Pity.” His mom took a breath, which was the only warning Ian got before she jumped

off the deep end. “Considering your lack of experience with family, I imagine you won’t be
the type of woman who would be content to sit back and create a home for your husband
while he travels?”

“Elizabeth—” His dad tried to grab her hand, but she shook him off.
“This needs to be said, and we both know it.” His mother leaned forward. “We all know

it.”

Roxanne raised her brows. “You know, Elizabeth, you’re right. I’m not the kind of

woman who’d be okay with sitting at home while my man was off gallivanting around the
country. But just because you’re right about that doesn’t mean you’re right about
everything else. If you stopped for a second and actually paid attention to your children,
you’d see that you’re doing a damn good job of driving them away.” She pushed to her
feet. “Excuse me a moment. I have to go powder my nose.”

As soon as Roxanne disappeared, the pressure in Ian’s chest doubled. He took a drink

of his water, trying not to notice how much his hand shook. Elle cleared her throat,
obviously with the intention of changing the subject, but Ian couldn’t let things lie. He set
down his glass, careful not to knock it over, and turned to his mother. “Why did you do
that?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do. You were disrespectful on purpose.”
Gabe cleared his throat. “Why don’t we just take a deep breath and calm down?”
Calm down? How was anyone supposed to be calm in a restaurant overflowing with

people and his mother rampaging all over his careful control? Almost grateful for the
distraction before his mother got the better of him, Ian leaned back and crossed his arms
over his chest. “Sure. In fact, let’s talk about something else. Like why I shouldn’t be
pissed a guy like you is marrying my sister.”

“Ian Christopher Walser!”
“Son!”
While their parents sputtered, Elle put her hand on Gabe’s arm. “You don’t have to tell

him anything.” She glared at Ian. “I can’t believe you. Why are you bringing this up now?”

“Now’s as good a time as any.” A waitress passed by, so close that her arm brushed his

back. Ian gritted his teeth and leaned forward, wishing Roxanne were there. “I’m worried
about you. You can’t blame me for that.”

“Elle, you knew this was coming.” Gabe shook his head, but there was a glint in his

brown  eyes  Ian  recognized.  This  guy  might  play  at  being  relaxed,  but  he  had  an  inner
asshole.  Gabe  disentangled  his  hands  from  Elle’s.  “I  get  it.  If  I  were  in  your  position,  I
might  feel  the  same  way.  But  I’d  walk  barefoot  over  broken  glass  before  I  hurt  your
sister. I love Elle. She makes me a better person, and I’d like to think I do the same for
her. I fully intend to spend the rest of my life with her.”

Fuck. He was attacking Gabe for no damn reason. As Roxanne had said when they

talked about it before, not even an idiot could doubt that this guy loved Elle. Which
meant Ian was really losing his shit. The hum of conversations around him set his teeth
on edge and made it hard to concentrate. Sweat beaded at his temple, and his chest
cinched another notch tighter.

“Ian, you’re being rude.”
He shook his head. How the hell could his mother sit there and reprimand him so primly

after the stunt she just pulled? “I’m being rude? The first words out of your mouth tonight
were some of the cruelest things I’ve ever heard you say—which is saying a lot—and it’s
all been downhill from there. I get that you’re pissed at me, but taking it out on Roxanne
is inexcusable.”

Her chin went up. “Don’t you dare speak to me like this. That woman might have her

claws into you—”

“I love her.” Both his mother and Elle gasped, but Ian kept right on talking. “She’s

intelligent and beautiful, and she actually understands what I’m going through.” And she
loved him, too.

His dad cleared his throat. “We might understand, too, if you’d just talk to us.”
The crux of it was that his family loved him and wanted to help. He knew this, even if

his mother went about it in the most ass-backward way possible. “I know. But I can’t talk
to you about what’s going on with me right now. It wouldn’t be healthy for any of us.”

He took a shuddering breath, hating how tenuous of a grip he had on his control. “I

can’t take the job, either. Not yet, and maybe not ever. And I want to be with Roxanne,
so it comes down to this—you can accept her being a part of my life, or I’ll walk.”

His mother’s eyes went wide. “You’d turn your back on your family for that woman?”
God, why was it always about him turning his back on the family? He was home, and

he’d finally found a piece of calm in the middle of the shitstorm that was his life, and the
first thing his mother tried to do was fuck it up. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

His mom started in on him again, but his dad put his hand on her arm. “Elizabeth,

enough.”

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that. This is your fault. You think our son would have

this kind of attitude without you encouraging him?”

It went on from there, dissolving further when Elle jumped in. Ian closed his eyes, their

voices grating his already frayed nerves. The room was closing in on him again, and he
was powerless to stop it.

Not without Roxanne.
The realization sent a wave of nausea spiraling through the panic. Had he really

thought he was getting better? That he’d ever be able to walk into a restaurant without
losing his shit without needing someone there, holding his hand? What a joke. He’d been
using the woman he loved as a crutch, a Band-Aid to keep his issues at bay. What kind of
life was that? Not just for him, but for her. She deserved better, and it was time for Ian to
face that he wasn’t it.

His mother slapped her hand down on the table, startling him. The thought of juggling

Roxanne and his family—of always keeping them separate—broke him.

He needed air. “I’ll be right back.”

Chapter Twenty

It took a whole lot of counting to ten before Roxanne was ready to go out and face that
harpy again. It blew her mind that Elizabeth Walser had raised both Ian and Elle. She
couldn’t think of two better people, but their mother seriously left something to be
desired.

The worst part was that the woman was right. She’d been a little blindsided by the

whole traveling bit, but no way in hell could she hold it together if he took that job. It
might work for a little bit, but every time he got on a plane and flew away from her, her
abandonment issues would return with a vengeance. It was only a matter of time before
she lost her shit and it ended for real.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror. “You can do this. You can go out there and

keep your composure until this dinner is over. This is no worse than dealing with a
problem client. That woman might be a horrible person, but she’s the mother of the man
you’re in love with.”

The man who loved her back. She did her damnedest not to think too hard about how

things seemed to have gone to shit as soon as they exchanged “I love yous.” It didn’t
mean anything. What Ian’s mother thought of her had no effect on their relationship’s
ability to last.

She took a deep breath and straightened. Whatever the case, she couldn’t hide in the

bathroom for the rest of the night. It was time to go back and face the firing squad.

As she dodged staff on her way back to the table, she caught sight of Ian’s retreating

form heading for the exit. Roxanne stopped short and nearly ended up with a face full of
soup as a result. She ignored the waiter’s apologies, rooted in place by the fear taking
hold of her heart. Ian was leaving her.

No. There had to be some explanation. She just needed to figure out what it was.

Roxanne followed him out, her worry increasing with every step. Even knowing it was a
knee-jerk reaction to seeing him physically walking away from her, years’ worth of habits
weren’t as easily broken as she’d like.

The night air slapped her in the face, the chill unexpected after the warmth indoors.

Roxanne paused just outside the doors and looked around. He had to be around here
somewhere. Seconds ticked by as she searched, her fear increasing the longer she
couldn’t find him. By the time she made it to his truck, she half expected it to be gone.

But, no, there he was, sitting on the curb by his front tire, his head in his hands. She

wanted to touch him, both for her sake and his, but the feeling of abandonment was too
fresh. No way could she put herself out there, even in such a small way. “Ian?”

He raised his head, his eyes so haunted that her stomach dropped. “I can’t do this.”

Do not panic. Do not panic. There had to be some explanation other than the one she

immediately jumped to. Roxanne cleared her throat. “Do what?”

“Anything. Everything. This.” He motioned between them. “Fuck, I can’t even handle a

dinner with my family in a restaurant. You deserve better than this, Roxanne.”

The hole in her stomach fissured, widening with every word coming out of his mouth.

Still, she hung on to the stubborn belief that she wasn’t hearing what she thought she
was hearing. “We’ll get through it.”

He shook his head. “There is no getting through it. I’m too fucked up. It’s not your fault

this is happening. It’s mine.”

Just like that, her entire world felt apart. The future she’d just started to believe in

disappeared. Those children she’d barely let herself consider? They’d never be more than
a half-imagined dream now. And what about all the little things she’d allowed herself to
hope for? The nights spent playing Monopoly and talking shit. The quiet little hole-in-the-
wall restaurants they hadn’t discovered. Eating ice cream by the river every weekend and
holding Ian’s hand while they watched the moon reflect off the water.

Gone. All of it. Just gone.
She took a step back, wishing creating more distance between them would help limit

the pain radiating through her body. “God, I’ve been such an idiot. You had me fooled,
you know that? I actually thought my mother was wrong when it came to you. You played
me for a goddamn fool.”

“What the hell are you talking about? Didn’t I just tell you this was my fault?”
Each word drove the pain deeper, until she could barely breathe past it. “Right. Because

I haven’t heard the ‘it’s not you—it’s me’ line before.”

“Roxanne…”
Her heart lunged when he said her name, as if it were trying to get closer to him. She

pressed a hand to her chest, anger taking the place of hurt. Keep it together. Just keep it
together. Right here, right now, all he had to do was reach out, and she’d forgive
everything he’d said.

But he didn’t reach out. He didn’t offer that olive branch that would have fixed things.
Instead, Ian pushed to his feet and pulled out his keys. She took another step back.

“You are a selfish asshole.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not the only one. I’m dealing with shit, and yet you’ve managed to

make it about you.”

She watched him climb into his truck, feeling as if he’d ripped out her heart and thrown

it out the window. “So, that’s it?”

“That’s it. Good-bye, Roxanne.” He started his truck and backed out, leaving her staring

after him.

He left her.

Even after she tried to keep calm and talk him through his shit, he left her. Roxanne

sank onto the same piece of curb he’d occupied not five minutes ago, a sob working its
way through her chest. Oh, God. She was going to lose it and, with her luck, Elle would
find her like this and then she’d have to explain everything. Mortification and hurt curled
around her stomach, tainting the love that had bolstered her through the night. She
should have known better than to let things get so far with Ian, but she’d been convinced
things were different with him. Hadn’t he told her that?

Yet here she was, less than an hour after saying “I love you.” Abandoned again.
She fumbled through her purse. Since she’d rather walk home than face her best friend,

a cab was the only option. Roxanne took several deep breaths before she called, holding
the tears at bay by the skin of her teeth. She would not cry, not until she was in the
safety of her own home.

Then, and only then, would she let herself fall apart.

Chapter Twenty-One

“What do you mean, you think strippers are a terrible idea?”

Roxanne took a deep breath and strove for patience, even though she knew it was a

lost cause. Patience had been in short supply ever since her blowout with Ian. Damn him
to hell and back for ruining everything. He was supposed to be different.

“Are you even listening to me? For what I’m paying you, you freaking better be.”
Right. Her current client—the teenage diva. Roxanne held her smile even though her

cheeks were starting to ache. “I understand that having half-naked men at your party is
part of your dream, but it’s simply not feasible for a number of reasons.”

“I don’t care about cost.”
Roxanne drummed her nails on her leg—safely hidden from the girl’s sight. She did this

kind of soothing on nearly a daily basis. Why was it so difficult to come up with the right
words now, when she actually needed them? “I’m sorry. But it’s not just the cost that’s
the issue. There are legal matters that you can’t get around.” With the skimpy outfits the
diva wanted, a costume malfunction was almost guaranteed, and all it would take was
one in a room full of minors and people would be going to jail.

The teen shot to her feet, straightening to all six feet of her height. “This is bullshit!”
“Perhaps it’d be best if you took a day or two to talk it over with your parents to decide

on a better form of entertainment.” Hopefully one more appropriate for high school kids.
“I really am sorry.”

“You keep saying that.” The girl’s eyes shone, and her goddamn lower lip started

quivering. “But I don’t think you care at all.” She spun on her heels and marched out of
the office, slamming the door behind her.

Roxanne dropped her head to her desk and banged her forehead a few times. She

hadn’t handled that well by any definition of the term. She had to get her shit together or
her business was going to suffer. Too bad even the threat of that wasn’t enough to shake
her out of this funk.

It was her own freaking fault that she was in this mess. If she’d kept her head on

straight, this never would have happened. Instead of losing her panties every time Ian
looked at her sideways, she should have insisted they just be friends after that first night
of hot sex. Or she should have moved across the country to make sure her control held.

How was she supposed to know he’d steal her heart more effectively than he’d stolen

her panties?

Should have, would have, could have.
Looking back didn’t change the reality of the situation. They dropped the L-word, and

things had blown up in their faces—just like it always had in the past.

Logic said she should keep her head up and walk away just as she had with every

single one of her exes, but Roxanne couldn’t manage it. She hurt. It felt like her insides
were eating away at one another. All that would be left of her was a hollow shell of the
woman she used to be. At this point, the best she’d be able to manage to do would be to
crawl away from him if he showed up—not exactly the strongest exit.

It was a moot point. Ian wouldn’t show.
God, that hurt even worse.
Her intercom buzzed, saving her from spiraling into a truly pathetic pity party. She

practically lunged across the desk to slap the button. “Yes?”

“Elle’s here to see you.”
Shit. Her best friend was number two on the list of people she didn’t want to see right

now. But it didn’t look like she’d have a choice, because the little blonde had already
walked through her door and sat in the chair across from her. Roxanne sighed. “Thank
you, Mallory.”

“No problem.”
Elle folded her hands in her lap. To anyone else, she might be sitting down for a spot of

tea, but Roxanne knew better. They were about to have another seriously uncomfortable
conversation. Still, that didn’t mean she’d roll over and play dead. Even after everything
that happened, she still had her pride—hell, it was the only thing she had left.

“What happened with you and Ian the other night? You guys left without saying a word,

and neither one of you has been answering your phone for the last two days.” She
blushed. “I’d thought you were holed up at your place, but I saw Nathan this morning,
and he mentioned Ian has been working like crazy on his house and won’t talk to anyone.
So…what’s going on?”

What was going on was that Ian had told her loved her and then turned around and

said in no uncertain terms that things would never work between them. It was over. Plain
and simple. The fat lady had sung, the curtain was going down, and any number of other
metaphors that fit. But this was the one time she couldn’t get into the dirty details with
Elle because the guy it revolved around was her big brother. The hero. The unicorn that
turned out to be just a horse with a deformity on its head.

“Roxanne?”
She sighed. “Ian and I are over. Which is silly to say because I’m not even sure we had

progressed far enough to be something.” Which just reinforced her surety that they
shouldn’t have dropped those deadly three little words.

Even if they were true.
“Really? Because at dinner he announced that he loved you. That’s kind of a big deal,

so maybe you had better rewind and start from the beginning.”

Words rose, pushing against her lips, demanding to be voiced despite the fact that it

was a terrible idea. Why the hell had he told his family he loved her, and then turned
around and dumped her ten minutes later? “I followed him out to the parking lot when he
left that night, and he told me this thing with us would never work.” Even talking about it
had her throat closing up. “He left me. Just drove off into the night. If he really loved me,
do you think he’d do something like that?”

“There’s got to be some explanation. You know he’s been having a rough time since he

got back.”

Roxanne knew it better than anyone, but he’d been making progress. She was

supposed to be his calming effect, be someone he really valued. “He threw me away like
yesterday’s trash.”

“Uh, no, he didn’t.”
“You weren’t there. He said—”
Elle held up a hand. “I’m not going to pretend I understand what happened between

you two in the parking lot, but I was there when he stood up to Mom and told our parents
that he wouldn’t take the job they offered him. Heck, he told her if she couldn’t accept
you then he’d have no part of the family at all.”

Her entire world slowed down to a near-standstill. “I thought he wanted that job.”
“Apparently he wants you more.”
Except he still abandoned her. “But—”
“Let me ask you a question.”
“Not like I have a choice.” If Ian had been willing to turn down the job for her, then he

couldn’t have really meant things were over between them. Could he? None of this made
any sense.

“You don’t.” Elle nodded, as regal as a queen. She looked a whole lot like her mother

right then, but without the mean edge. “Do you love my brother?”

“It doesn’t matter if I do. He left me.”
“Oh please. You knew my brother had issues when you decided to date him. So you had

a fight—so what? Everyone fights, Roxanne. It doesn’t have to be the end of a
relationship unless you want it to be, so stop playing the martyr.”

Anger bloomed, and Roxanne welcomed it with arms held wide. “I can’t believe you just

said that to me.”

“Someone has to.” Elle pushed to her feet and smoothed down her ivory skirt. “I’m

meeting Gabe for lunch, so I’ve got to go. But maybe you need to sit down and figure out
if you really love my brother. Sometimes love means not walking away when things get
rough. But sometimes love means chasing the idiot down and knocking some sense into
him.”

Roxanne waited a full five minutes after Elle left her office to slowly stand. Her body

didn’t move quite right, as if she’d taken yet another hit but didn’t register it yet. Why

couldn’t Elle have sat there and offered her unconditional support? All she had to do was
nod and agree that, yes, Ian had betrayed her, and he totally wasn’t good for her
because of it. He chose this. Not her. Elle wasn’t supposed to throw the ball into her court
and just walk away.

“Goddamn it.” Roxanne grabbed her purse and headed for the door. She paused by

Mallory’s desk. “What’s my afternoon look like?”

“Clear. Though you said something about hunting down a florist for the Clarkston

sweet-sixteen party.”

Right. The exotic freaking flowers the diva just had to have. “I can’t move on that until I

know which way she’s falling on the entertainment issue.” With her current streak of luck,
the girl would rile up her parents, and they’d call the whole thing off. Then Roxanne
would be stuck with an order of ridiculously expensive flowers. She readjusted her grip on
her purse. “I’m going to run a few errands and cut out early. You can head out
whenever.”

Mallory frowned, but she nodded. “I have a few things to finish up, and then I’ll get

going.”

“Great. See you tomorrow.” Tomorrow she’d have her game face on. There’d be no pity

parties or being distracted or any of the shit she’d dealt with today. Yes, the mess with
Ian had thrown her, but she’d bounce back. She had to.

Roxanne drove home, seeming to make the trip between one blink and the next. Okay,

she shouldn’t be zoning out while driving. What if she’d run down some poor granny or
something? It’d be the cherry to top off the piece of shit of a month she had going right
now.

Shaking her head, she walked through the lobby and stopped in front of the elevator.

Even with the doors closed, she couldn’t stomach the thought of standing still long
enough to make the ride. She shouldered through the stairwell door and started climbing.
Seven stories in six-inch heels? It was no more than she deserved for being a special kind
of idiot. By the time she hit the seventh floor, her legs were shaking in a distinctly
unattractive way, and she’d lost feeling in her left foot. Her right foot, on the other hand,
felt like one big blister.

Roxanne barely made it three steps into her apartment when a flash of pink on her

fridge caught her attention for the millionth time. She turned, horror-movie slow, to see
the note hanging there, secured by a Girls Gone Wild magnet she’d gotten from the last
bachelorette party she’d gone to.

She should have thrown the damn note away the first time she noticed it, instead of

trying to ignore it. Obviously, he’d written it after the last night they spent wrapped up in
each other. It could say anything. Hell, it was probably a grocery list.

Despite knowing it was a mistake, she crossed to the fridge and pulled the note out

from beneath the magnet. It was short and simple, written as an afterthought before he
walked out the door.

I’m going to spend the next two days counting down until I see you again.

Have a great day.

Then he’d signed it with a little heart and his name. Had he known, even then, that this

infatuation was heading over the short drop to… Holy shit, she couldn’t even think the
word anymore.

“Oh my God, I am so broken.” She collapsed onto her bed and curled up, Ian’s note

clutched against her chest. “It doesn’t matter if he loves me. He left me.”

Except, each time she repeated the words, the protest seemed a little bit weaker. If Ian

had really been willing to sacrifice the job he wanted—the future he wanted—for her,
then how come he’d turned around and said all those hurtful things?

She forced herself to play over the night again, trying to get past her hurt and see the

events from a distanced point of view. Ian had been sweating and shaking and obviously
on the verge of another panic attack. If she’d reached out to him then—instead of
reacting with fear and accusations—would he have calmed down enough to take back
what he’d said?

Had she taken a horrible night and made it a thousand times worse by projecting her

issues onto him?

Oh God, what had she done?
Elle’s words circled through her mind again. Sometimes loves means chasing the idiot

down and knocking some sense into him. Roxanne sat up and looked around her loft, her
gaze landing on the incomplete dresser she loved so much.

Maybe it was time to do just that.

Chapter Twenty-Two

The loft wasn’t empty when Ian unlocked the front door. He stopped in the doorway and
stared at Nathan, who lay sprawled over the entirety of the couch, his forearm covering
his eyes as if the bare light of the single lamp was too much to bear. It was all very
dramatic, which was completely unlike Nathan. Ian figured he hadn’t done it on purpose,
but he wasn’t in the mood to be charitable. “What are you doing here? Waiting for your
True Love’s kiss? ’Cause that shit isn’t going to happen.”

“I couldn’t sleep.”
“So obviously the logical solution is to drive into town and not sleep here.” Ian shook

his head. “You want a beer?” Because he could sure as hell use one after his run. He’d
come home from working on his house and been so damn restless he’d tossed on a pair
of shorts and run so far his legs were shaking.

It still didn’t help.
“Actually, yeah.” Nathan sat up and rubbed his eyes. “I figured you weren’t sleeping

much these days, between adjusting to being back in town and a certain pretty brunette.”

“She’s not an issue anymore.” Ian tossed a beer over and opened one of his own. Since

his fight with Roxanne, he’d been craving something harder than beer, but he knew
enough to know drinking whiskey was a terrible idea right now. He’d all but given up hard
alcohol after he got back from the desert. The exception being the night he got back into
town, and look how well that had turned out.

Nathan shook his head, concern lighting his face. “I thought things were going well with

her.”

“They were.” All week, when he was ripping up carpet, steaming down wallpaper, or

breaking  tile  into  tiny  little  pieces,  he  wasn’t  thinking  about  Roxanne.  Except  it  didn’t
really  work.  She  was  always  there,  in  the  back  of  his  mind,  right  next  to  all  the
unforgivable  shit  he’d  said  to  her  that  night.  Now,  with  the  space  of  time  and  distance
between  them,  he  could  acknowledge  how  fucked  up  he’d  been  when  he’d  left  the
restaurant  that  night.  He’d  known  what  a  big  deal  saying  “I  love  you”  was  to  her,  and
he’d turned around and told her he couldn’t be with her.

Considering the conversation they’d had not twenty-four hours previous to that, he

shouldn’t have been surprised that she’d reacted the way she did.

“What happened?”
“I lost it at dinner with my family last Friday.” Even now, the pressure in his chest

thumped at the memory. “It was a mess. So I ended things.”

“Wait. You dumped Roxanne because you fought with your family?”
“Yes.” It was the best for her. He couldn’t subject her to all of his shit.

“I hate to say it, but your logic might be flawed. Then again, relationships have been

ended over less.” Nathan dropped back onto the couch and propped his feet on the coffee
table.

Ian took the chair opposite—the same chair Roxanne had sat in barely two weeks ago.

God, he needed to stop thinking about her. She deserved better than he could give her. If
only his heart would acknowledge that logic and stop aching in his chest.

Then what Nathan said registered. That hadn’t sounded like a meaningless platitude—

that sounded like the voice of experience talking. “What do you mean?”

Nathan smiled, but not like anything was funny. “There was a woman, a long time ago.

It’s ancient history now.”

As much as he cared about his best friend, he didn’t like to think that this was his future

—to be sitting there years from now, telling this story with the ghost of Roxanne in his
eyes. Because, whoever this chick was, Nathan hadn’t walked away whole. Ian wanted to
ask for more details since this was the first time Nathan had brought her up, but he
wasn’t sure the other man would welcome the questions. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault. And as I said, it’s ancient history.”
It sure didn’t sound like ancient history.
Still, Ian let it go. There didn’t seem to be many safe subjects to talk about these days.

“So why can’t you sleep? Nightmares?”

“More like general insomnia—can’t seem to turn my brain off.” Nathan shrugged. “I

usually come to this loft to think or plot out my next project.”

“What are you working on now?” Ian had seen the works Nathan had set up on the

gallery floor, and the sheer level of detail in those scrap-metal sculptures amazed him.
With a talent like that, he wasn’t sure why Nathan had bothered to enlist in the first place
—he knew for a fact the man made a killing selling his art.

Nathan tipped back his beer, draining half of it. “I’m in between projects. I’ve finished

the one I was working on the night you got into town, and now I’m in the planning stages
of another. It’s inspired by Icarus.”

“Wasn’t that the kid with wings?”
“He had a pair, but they were made by his father. He was warned not to fly to high, or

too low, but he managed to do both.” Nathan picked at his beer label. “The story speaks
to me.”

Yeah, Ian could see how it would. He identified with walking a fine line between one

extreme and the other. On one side, he had the gaping hole of his past, all too willing to
suck him under if he were weak enough to give in to the anxiety that pressed him. On the
other,  he  had  run  the  risk  of  losing  himself  in  Roxanne.  That  hadn’t  seemed  like  a  bad
thing  at  the  time,  but  with  the  sick  feeling  in  his  stomach  only  growing  as  the  minutes
ticked  by,  he  was  forced  to  face  reality—falling  in  love  with  Roxanne  might  have  been

even worse than turning into a paranoid basket case.

“So what are you going to do?”
That was the question. “What am I supposed to do? Things are the way they are.”
“I’m going to give you a piece of unsolicited advice.”
“Can we do this another time?” With everything such a toxic mess in his head, Ian

wasn’t ready to add another voice to the confusion.

“Nope.” Nathan rolled off the couch and to his feet in a ridiculously graceful motion. “If

you love her, make things right. If you don’t, you’re always going to wonder if you could
have done something to make it work. Don’t do that to yourself.”

“She deserves a man with a less complicated situation than I have.”
“Life is complicated. There isn’t going to come a time when everything magically falls

into place between two perfect people. You have to take your happiness where you can
get it, and it sounded like she made you happy.” Nathan laughed. “Jesus, I’m like Dr. Phil
over here or something. You know I had a pretty damn similar conversation with my
brother not too long ago about Elle. He chose to keep trying, and they managed to work
their issues out. Maybe you and Roxanne can, too.”

Ian spoke without thinking. “What happened to that girl? The one who got away? Is

there any chance for you to make things right?”

The silence stretched on so long, he opened his mouth to apologize for overstepping. If

Nathan didn’t want to talk about his past, it was none of Ian’s goddamn business. But
then Nathan sighed, his shoulders dropping. “I don’t know.”

Since he hadn’t completely shut him down, Ian asked, “Have you ever thought of trying

again?”

“Every damn day.” Nathan cleared his throat and looked away. “But enough about me.

What are you going to do about Roxanne?”

“I don’t know.” Up until two minutes ago, he hadn’t been planning on doing anything

other than trying to move on with his life. But Nathan’s words resonated with him. She
did make him happy, and he was pretty sure he did the same for her. Was that enough to
create a lasting relationship?

He looked at his best friend, at the weary way his shoulders sloped and the shadows in

his eyes, and suddenly knew that if he didn’t at least try to make things work with her,
this would be his future. No one had ever touched him on the level Roxanne did before
now.

Could he go through his life running the risk he’d never find it again?
No. He loved this woman. He wasn’t perfect—would never be perfect—but like Nathan

had said, life wasn’t perfect. What he had with her was something special, though. “I
don’t know how to fix this.”

Now that he’d decided to do something about this mess, it was everything Ian could do

not to go running out the door right now. The only thing stopping him was the fact that
h e didn’t have a plan, and showing up at Roxanne’s place without one would be a
mistake. He’d only get one chance at this, so he had to make it count.

“Have you tried groveling with flowers and chocolates? Maybe buy her a piece of

artwork? I hear both those things work.”

Groveling wouldn’t do a damn thing, and she wasn’t much of an art fan. He needed

something to make Roxanne stop and take notice. “I need something…bigger.”

“What does this bigger look like?”
Christ if he knew. Ian sighed. “I’m going to have to think about it.”
“You’ll come up with something.”
The vote of confidence might have felt stronger if he had any idea of how to move

forward. “Yeah. I’m sure I will.”

“Just keep tearing into whatever part of your house you’re focusing on now, and I’m

sure it’ll come to you.”

“I’ll do that.” He paused. “Thanks.”
“No problem. Like I said, I’m here if you need me. And on that note, I’m going home.”

Nathan grabbed his keys and walked out the door, leaving Ian alone with his thoughts
once more. He’d figure this shit out. He just needed to pull the right trigger to get
Roxanne’s attention.

Chapter Twenty-Three

“Ouch!” Roxanne jammed her shoulder against the house as she reached for the
doorknob. It was so early in the morning the dew hadn’t evaporated off the grass. Hell,
the sun was barely up. The things she did for love. “Hang on while I get this.”

“I am hanging on.” Elle’s voice was muffled. “Pretty sure I left a portion of my foot back

on the porch step, though.”

The door opened beneath her hand. “Got it.”
“Tell me why we’re doing this again?”
Roxanne wobbled as she used her heel to push the door open farther. “Because I

screwed up and you told me I needed to fix it.”

“Yeah, I get that. What I don’t get is why we’re hauling your favorite dresser into Ian’s

unfinished house at six in the morning.”

She could barely see the top of Elle’s blond head on the other side of the dresser.

“Here, let’s put it against this wall.” They limped over and awkwardly dropped it to the
ground. Roxanne wiped her hands on her jeans and surveyed what would eventually
become the…living room? It was hard to tell with the floor all torn to shit and the walls
exposed. She shook her head. “I thought the house would be further along than this.” A
lot further.

“He’s been working on it pretty much every day since you guys had that falling-out, but

there’s still a lot left to do. Obviously.”

She’d been operating under the assumption that she’d sneak into his nearly finished

house, get her dresser situated in his room, and then sit at the dining room table and do
a crossword until he showed up. Or something. She turned another circle, her feet making
patterns in the sawdust.

Elle glanced at the dresser. “I still don’t get why we couldn’t have asked Gabe for help.

I broke a nail, and I’m pretty sure my big toe will never be the same.”

“I told you. If Gabe knows, then there’s a decent chance he’ll tell Nathan, and Nathan

and Ian are best friends, so what’s to keep him from spilling the beans?”

“I really don’t think they talk as much as you think.” Elle frowned. “You’re kind of acting

like a basket case. Are you sure this is what you want?”

“Yes?” Truth was, she could barely keep her head on straight right now. She ran her

hand over the top of the dresser. It looked ridiculous sitting here in this unfinished house.
“Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.” It wouldn’t be the first time she made an idiot mistake
when it came to Ian.

“No way am I helping you carry this thing out of here if you change your mind. Besides,

this…whatever it is you’re trying to do…is cute.”

“I’m apologizing.” She opened the top drawer. It was filled with a handful of shirts,

panties, and a pair of pants. Everything a girl would need at her boyfriend’s house. It
might be stupid, but it was a symbol she thought Ian would understand.

“This is so adorable.” Elle bounced on her toes and then winced. “God, that hurt.”
“I promise I’ll make all this up to you, too. Right after I fix things with your brother.”

When she’d called Elle to come in with the assist, her best friend had jumped at the
chance to be part of her plan. Standing here, in the middle of his half-finished house, she
wasn’t sure it was the best plan she’d ever had. But she’d see this through, because it
was the only plan she had.

It had to work.
“So he’ll come here and—”
“I hope so.” Roxanne shoved her hair out of her eyes. “I’m heading to pick up the rest

of it as soon as we leave here.”

“Cool. From what he said, he usually gets here around seven, so you shouldn’t have

long to wait. You have to let me know how it goes.”

Her friend’s enthusiasm was infectious. She grinned. “You’ll be the first one I call.

Promise.” She just hoped it was a call with good news, and not that Ian had told her
where to shove it.

…

Ian had spent all morning searching for the perfect piece. It had taken five stops, but he
finally found the right one. He just hoped Roxanne would love it.

He fished his ringing phone out of his pocket. “Hey.”
“Hey! How did it go? I haven’t heard anything, and I can’t get a hold of Roxanne. I was

starting to get worried.”

He frowned. “What are you talking about?”
A long pause. “Where are you right now?”
“Downtown. I was just about to pick up lunch. Why?”
“What the heck? Why aren’t you at your house? You know what? Never mind. It doesn’t

matter. It’s been hours.”

If this were anyone other than his baby sister, he’d accuse her of being on drugs. As it

was, the search had worn his patience to the breaking level. “Spit it out. What’s going
on?”

“You need to go to your house. Actually, no. You need to go to Pine River Park. Like

now.”

“Pine River Park? Why?” Wait, that was where he’d taken Roxanne after they went out

for sushi. What did that have to do with anything? Hope dawned, but he was afraid to let
it take hold. “What’s this about?”

“You were supposed to have been there by now. Just go. Then call me later and tell me

all about it.” Elle hung up, leaving more questions than answers.

Apparently he was going to the park. Shaking his head, he got into his truck and

headed north. Even speeding, it took him twenty minutes. As he pulled into the parking
lot, the dark skies that had been threatening all day opened up. Rain poured down,
making him wish for an umbrella. There were only a few cars there, but he recognized
one as Roxanne’s Camry.

Cursing under his breath, he hurried over the bridge. Ian stopped short at the bottom of

the stairs on the other side when he caught sight of her. She had her chin on her knees
and her arms wrapped around her legs, looking like she didn’t have a single friend in the
world. He wanted to sweep her into his arms and beg for her forgiveness.

Since she was facing the river, she didn’t see him until he dropped onto the table next

to her. Both of them were soaked through, and still the rain came down. He glanced at
the open tub of ice cream next to her. What little was left was completely melted. Fuck.
How long had she been here? “Hey.”

“I didn’t think you were coming.” Roxanne still didn’t look at him. “I figured you saw the

note and decided you really didn’t want to be with me.”

“What note?”
She turned toward him, a frown on her face. “The note I left in the dresser.” When he

just shook his head, she frowned harder. “If you haven’t been home, how did you know to
come here?”

“My sister called me.” Thank God. He put his hand over Roxanne’s where it rested on

the table. “What did the note say?”

“You really haven’t been to your house yet?”
“I really haven’t.”
She took a deep breath. “It said that I’m sorry. Instead of recognizing that you were in

a rough place after your family dinner, I just reacted and freaked out at you. And that’s
not fair. I…I love you. I want a future with you—the full nine yards. I know I haven’t made
things easy for you with this relationship, but I want to make it work. If you’ll have me.”
She waved a hand. “But it was a whole lot more eloquent.”

Ian pulled her into his lap, so damn glad to be able to wrap his arms around her again.

“I love you, too. I never should have said any of those things that night. I might be fucked
up, but I’m getting better. You are helping me get better.”

“You sister said you turned down that job.” She toyed with the edge of his shirt. “Was

that because of me?”

“Yes and no. I wouldn’t have been happy traveling that much, and the thought of being

away from you isn’t at all appealing.” He hugged her tighter. “I mean it. I am so, so
goddamn sorry I walked away from you. I’ll never do it again.”

“Never is a long time, Charming.”
Not long enough. “I mean it, Roxanne.” He kissed her, right there in the rain with the

tub of melted ice cream beside them. “I love you.” And he would tell her that every damn
day for the rest of their lives.

“I love you, too.” She framed his face with her hands. “Seriously, it was a really great

note. I spent a lot of time on it. I can’t believe you didn’t read it.”

Ian laughed. “I believe you. If you want, we can go read it right now.”
“Sorry about the ice cream, too.” She nudged it. “I got a little depressed when I thought

you weren’t coming and broke into it.”

“I’ll buy a new carton, and we can break into it together.”
“I like that plan a whole lot better.” She smiled. “I don’t suppose you have a working

shower?”

“That, at least, I do have.” He’d spent the last few days putting the necessities into the

bathroom. “I also have a few extra changes of clothes in my truck if you want to head
back there and get into something dry.”

Roxanne glanced away. “That, ah, won’t be an issue.”
He saw what she meant when they walked through the front door fifteen minutes later.

The very same dresser he’d admired at her apartment now stood against the wall in his
living room. It was so finished and out-of-place, it took him a long moment to find his
words. “Your dresser is in my house.”

“Yeah… About that…”
He opened the empty drawers, and with each one his confusion increased—right up to

the point where he got to the one with her things in it. One drawer—the one without the
knob, ironically enough. It wasn’t moving in, but it was a declaration of moving forward.
The note lay on top of her clothes, but Ian didn’t read it. No matter what she said,
hearing those words from her mouth hit him so much harder than any written note could.

He turned back to her. “You know, this is kind of funny.”
“Funny?”
“Yeah.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the knob he’d spent all morning

searching for. It was because of that search that things hadn’t played out how she’d
planned, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. Ian held it out. “I got you something.
It’s kind of fitting, considering everything.”

Roxanne pressed her hands to her mouth as he screwed the knob into the empty spot.

“It’s finally a full set.”

“I thought this one might be a perfect fit.” He pulled her into his arms. “Kind of like us.”
“You’re so cheesy.” She kissed him. “I like it.”
“Best get used to it. I’m not going anywhere. I’m in for the long run, and I want forever

and always with you.”

Epilogue

Ian laced his fingers through Roxanne’s as people streamed around them, though he
didn’t need her touch to keep the panic at bay. In the months since they’d figured things
out, he’d made leaps and bounds in settling into life back home. There were still times
when his issues got the better of him, but with the help of her and the new therapist he’d
been talking to, those days were few and far between.

She gave his hand another squeeze. “If you want, you can take up a barstool. I’ve got

to socialize a bit, since this party is for Elle and Gabe and I’m planning their wedding and
all. I have to supervise, or nothing will be done right.”

“It’s a burden you’ll just have to bear.” For all her gruffness, he knew for a fact that she

was thrilled Elle had asked her to plan the wedding.

“I know. I’m practically a saint—a saint with a vested interest in the bridesmaids’

dresses.” She laughed. “You ready?”

“Yes.” When she took a step forward, Ian yanked her into his arms and bent her

backward. “Have I told you lately that I love you?”

Her smile widened. “Only about seven times today.”
“Let’s make it an even eight. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Ian kissed her, not caring if anyone saw, sliding his tongue along hers as she wrapped

her arms around his neck. Just when he was about to be swept away entirely, someone
nearby whistled, reminding him of where he was. He straightened with a laugh and set
her back on her feet.

Roxanne straightened her dress and nudged him with her elbow. “If you manage to

behave yourself, I’ll consider dragging you into a storage room when we get a moment
alone.”

“Promises, promises.”
She tugged him past the elevator to the stairwell. “You know, I about died on that first

night when the elevator doors opened and there you were. You weren’t even breathing
hard.”

“I had excellent motivation.” Ian held open the door for her. It had been desire driving

him that night, but something beyond that as well. He’d needed her touch like a drowning
man flailed for a life preserver.

He still did on his bad days.
Tonight Roxanne had outdone herself. Her little black dress hugged every curve in a

way that made him want to follow through on her half joke about finding a storage room,
but the thing that really did him in was her shoes. Those red heels made her legs look

like they went on for miles—if he’d ever seen come-fuck-me heels, these were them.

They also had to be killer on her feet.
“Come here.”
She gave him a wary look. “Self-control isn’t exactly our strong suit, and we can’t really

walk in there fifteen minutes late, adjusting our clothes.”

“Woman, come here.” He held out his hand, challenging her silently.
With a sigh, she stepped into his arms, just as he’d known she would. “The sacrifices I

make for you.”

“I know. We already covered your saint status.” He scooped her up and tossed her over

his shoulder.

“Ian!” She smacked his back. “What are you doing?”
“Saving your feet.” He took the stairs as smoothly as he could so he didn’t jar her

stomach with his shoulder any more than he had to.

She laughed. “Right. This is all about saving my poor little feet. It has nothing to do

with cementing your man card.”

“Nope.” Though he loved the fact that she let him toss her around like this.
It was only when they reached the country floor that he slid her down his body. He

settled his hands on her hips as she leaned into him, running her fingers through his hair.
She shook her head. “You’re such a caveman. I like it.”

“Mmm. We can play Me-Tarzan, You-Jane later.”
She smacked him and stepped away. “You’re so bad.”
“You love it.”
She stopped with her hand on the door. “You know I do.” She grinned wickedly. “Come

on. Let’s go congratulate the happy couple.”

Ian had more or less come to terms with Gabe—with Roxanne acting as a kick in the

ass. Last week he’d finally agreed to what she termed a “man-date.” He, Nathan, and
Gabe had gone shooting with Ian’s new rifle and shared a twelve-pack. They might not be
best friends, but at least he wasn’t convinced the man would trample over Ellie’s heart.
Gabe loved her, and he’d do damn near anything to ensure her happiness. There wasn’t
much more a big brother could want for his baby sister.

He followed her into the country bar, making a beeline for Elle and Gabe. Now that

they’d finally picked a date for their wedding, things were moving quickly. In less than six
months, his sister would be Elle Schultz, and he was genuinely happy for her.

Elle saw them first. “You made it.” Her grin was so wide it made him glad he hadn’t

given in to the need to shove Roxanne against the stairwell wall and have his way with
her. As she hugged Ian, Elle whispered, “Thank you so much for giving Gabe a chance. He
said he had a really good time last week.”

“I did, too.” Once she stepped back, he shook Gabe’s hand. “Hey.”

“Hey. Glad you could make it.”
“Yeah, me, too.”
Roxanne raised her eyebrows. “Please, guys, try to contain yourselves. You’re

embarrassing us.” She slipped her hand into Ian’s. “Elle and I have found the perfect
place for the wedding. It’s down on the Columbia River, and get this, there’s a natural
amphitheater where you’ll have the ceremony.” She glanced between them. “Oh, who am
I kidding? You guys don’t care about the dirty details. You will, however, care about this—
they do a brewing and canoeing tour thing. How cool is that?”

Ian blinked. “Brewing and canoeing.”
Elle slipped under Gabe’s arm. “Yeah, you actually canoe up the river to the brewery

and then have lunch and do a beer tasting. It sounds really fun.”

Actually, that did sound like a lot of fun. Ian smiled. “Cool.”
As they spoke, Nathan exited the elevator and made his way over. “Hey.”
Roxanne zeroed in on him, her green eyes flashing. “And there’s the mystery man

himself.”

“You make me sound like James Bond.” He raised an eyebrow.
“You are quite the enigma. So tell me, Nathan, are you bringing a date to the wedding?

Because if not, I have at least a handful of eligible women who would throw themselves
in front of a bus for a chance to go out with you.”

Nathan actually flinched, though Ian wouldn’t have noticed it if he hadn’t been watching

his best friend so closely. He recovered almost immediately and even managed a smile.
“Thank you, but that won’t be necessary.”

“It won’t?” Ian’s interest sharpened. “You’re bringing someone?”
Nathan met his gaze steadily. “I have something in the works.”
Before Ian could press for more details—not that his friend would give them—Nathan

moved to the bar. Elle frowned. “I worry about him.”

Roxanne waved that away. “You don’t have time to worry about Nathan—you have to

worry about your wedding. It’s going to be so fabulous.”

“With you planning it, I have no doubt about that.”
“We’ll let you go socialize, instead of monopolizing your time.” She pulled Ian back as

another group of people approached to talk to Elle and Gabe, and then Roxanne stepped
into his arms. “So what are your thoughts on finding that storage closet?”

The small amount of pressure present in his chest evaporated as she let him see

exactly how much she cared about him. What couldn’t he face with this woman by his
side? Ian felt like a Superman, bulletproof and able to leap tall buildings with a single
bound. He cupped the back of her neck and pressed his forehead to hers. “I think that’s a
brilliant idea.”

Christ, he loved this woman. And he always would.

Did you love Ian and Roxanne’s story?

Find out where it all began with

Wrong Bed, Right Guy

the

New York Times

bestselling first book in the Come Undone

series

by Katee Robert

Seducing Mr. Wrong has never felt so right…

Prim  and  proper  art  gallery  coordinator  Elle  Walser  is  no  good  at  seducing  men.  Heck,
she’s been throwing hints at her boss for months, but he’s completely clueless. Desperate
to  escape  her  mother’s  matchmaking  efforts,  she  comes  up  with  a  plan—buy  some
lingerie  and  climb  into  her  boss’s  bed.  The  plan  goes  brilliantly…until  she  accidentally
seduces a sexy stranger instead.

Bad boy nightclub mogul Gabe Schultz just had the best almost-sex of his life. Too bad

the smoking hot blonde thought he was his brother and bolted before he could finish what
they started. Though her holier-than-thou attitude puts a serious damper on his mood,
Gabe’s never been one to give up on something he wants. And he wants Elle. But does a
man who lives on the dark side really have a chance with a proper lady?

Chapter One

Tonight she was seducing her Mr. Right.

As soon as she found the courage to take the first step, that is.
The staircase before her seemed to stretch up forever. Elle knew better—there were

only thirteen steps leading to the loft above the gallery, the same as always. It didn’t feel
like the same, though. Were the walls narrower than before? She adjusted her coat,
trying to get some air circulating. She would have preferred to go without since it was too
warm out for coats, even this late at night, but it wasn’t like she could waltz upstairs
wearing only lingerie, could she?

Elle gripped the banister until her knuckles went white. Was she really going to do this?

It wasn’t too late to turn back, to pretend she’d never had this insane idea in the first
place. Things would go on just like they’d always been, with her working at the gallery
and Nathan being completely unaware she was interested in him.

The thought settled like lead in her stomach. No. If she backed out now, she’d never

get things moving between them. Nathan sure as heck hadn’t caught any of her blatant
hints. If she was going to stave off her mother’s matchmaking efforts and land a guy she
could stomach being around, it was time for a more direct approach.

Last year, when Ian recommended applying for the art coordinator job at the gallery,

she’d balked—could she really work under one of her brother’s military buddies? But she’d
walked into the gallery and was instantly swept away. Though Nathan focused more on
scrap-metal sculpting, the galleries he owned displayed every type of art. It was as if
someone pulled the idea of what heaven would look like straight from her head.

Then there was Nathan himself. She’d expected someone like Ian—intense, protective,

and sporting some serious anger issues. Nathan wasn’t like that at all. He was quiet and,
though his sense of humor was almost wicked, he was never less than polite. It didn’t
hurt that he was beautiful, either—tall with golden blond hair and blue eyes that always
seemed to twinkle. Most days, they spent hours talking about art and arguing theory,
which made him the full package. Exactly the kind of refined man her mother had been
pushing her to find, though he was a far sight better than any of the ones she’d forced
Elle into dinner with.

She hesitated, her weight balanced between two steps. Okay, so they didn’t have the

kind of chemistry that sizzled when they were in the same room together, and he wasn’t
the kind of guy she’d have chosen for herself—but that was exactly the problem. She’d
already learned the hard way that she had bad taste in men, and an overwhelming level
of attraction brought nothing but heartache. Just because Nathan didn’t rock her socks off
on a non-academic level didn’t mean it couldn’t work up to more. And tonight would go a

long way toward fixing that.

She hoped.
It took every ounce of willpower to keep moving up the stairs. By the time she reached

the top, her breath came in short pants as if she’d just run a mile. Pathetic. She could do
better. Really, she could.

Straightening, Elle forced herself to walk down the narrow hallway toward the single

door at the end. Judging from his car in the parking lot, Nathan would be sleeping in the
loft above the gallery this weekend. She’d guessed as much when he mentioned he’d
started planning a new piece today. When he started a new project, he was like a man
possessed, focused solely on bringing it to life.

The door loomed, dark wood that contrasted with the pale green of the walls. Normally

she found the coloring soothing, but there was no battling the anxiety pulsing through
her. The knob was startlingly cold against her palm as she stepped into the shadows of
the loft. In the single lamp’s light, she took in the oversized canvas sitting in the living
room that Nathan used to map out his sculptures before he started welding. It was still in
the early stages so she wasn’t sure where he was going with it yet, but the violent reds
and blacks raised the small hairs on the back of her neck. Elle wouldn’t like this one, she
was sure of it. Still, it would end up being sold for a truly outstanding price—all Nathan’s
work did.

Elle bypassed the spare bedroom and skirted the kitchen counter, heading to the

master bedroom. Her heartbeat picked up until she was sure it would burst from her
chest. Still not too late to back out…

She unbuttoned the coat and carefully laid it over the barstool. Goose bumps rose over

her bare skin as the chilled air wrapped around her body. Elle smoothed down the ruffles
on the bottom of her lingerie and tried to focus. The short slip didn’t cling like the other
stuff she’d tried on, and though it was thin, the ruffles over her chest and hips hid the
essentials from view. She ran a hand over the silky fabric covering her stomach. The
simplicity of the middle had struck her as a great contrast to the ruffles. It was feminine
without shoving her outside her comfort zone.

She rolled her eyes. What a joke—she was so outside her comfort zone right now, she

didn’t even know where the line was anymore. Buying lingerie had seemed like a really
good idea at the time, but standing here in the dark, she suddenly wasn’t so sure.

Biting her lip, she grabbed a condom out of her coat pocket, wondering where the heck

she was going to put it. Maybe she should just leave it… No. While she wanted a family
eventually, getting pregnant tonight would be a freaking nightmare. She’d only been on
the Pill a month. What if it wasn’t working yet? She searched her body for an appropriate
hiding place and came up empty. Seriously, what was she supposed to do with the
condom? Hold it in her hand? Stick it into the top of the lingerie? She so wasn’t cut out for

this sort of thing.

Clutching the condom like a life preserver, Elle took a deep breath and opened the door

just enough to slip through. She’d only been in this room a handful of times before, all on
some errand for Nathan, but even in the pitch-black darkness, she knew the gigantic bed
was directly across from the door. Okay. She could do this. She was woman, hear her
roar.

Too bad Elle felt more like a kitten than a lioness.

Gabe was having the most fantastic dream.

A woman climbed into his bed and touched his shoulder, a breathy whisper slipping

past her lips. He rolled over and stretched, intrigued by that little whisper, wondering
what his subconscious had in store for him tonight. She shifted close enough that he could
just barely feel her warmth seep through the sheet covering his hips. Mmm, this was
going to be good.

Needing more from her, he draped an arm around her waist and pulled her body

against his side. She was a slight, tender little thing, completely opposite of what he
usually went for. Guess his subconscious decided it was time for a change. When she ran
a timid hand from his shoulder to his hip and pressed herself against him, he decided
maybe different was better, because this felt too damn good to be real.

Who knew crashing at his little brother’s gallery was the way to dreaming up a fantasy

woman? All Gabe had cared about after he got off the plane from Los Angeles was finding
a meal and a beer, so he’d jumped at the chance when Nathan called to welcome him
home. Obviously it was the best idea he’d ever had.

Gabe sighed and settled in for the rest of what he hoped would be a fabulous night of

sleep—exactly what he needed after the chaos he’d dealt with in Los Angeles—but then
her lips found his neck and she shivered against him.

Wait a damned second. Those lips weren’t fantasy. They were real. Real lips and a

decidedly real shiver.

Gabe’s eyes flew open and searched the shadows beside him. Holy shit, he wasn’t

dreaming at all. There was a woman in his bed.

Oblivious to his rude awakening, she kissed his jaw, so soft and sweet it took his breath

away. Staying in bed so wasn’t the right thing to do, but an ache started in his chest—a
craving so strong he couldn’t ignore it. Lifting his chin to give her better access, he
wondered what he should do. Toss her out on her ass? Let her rub that soft body all over
him? Wait, that was wrong. Skeezy. He didn’t even know who this chick was.

A few years ago, not knowing the girl in his bed wouldn’t have stopped him, but that

wasn’t his life anymore. He didn’t want to be that guy.

She kissed him again, this time perilously close to his lips. Gabe couldn’t think with her

mouth on him, so he put his hands on her shoulders and angled away to create some

distance. The woman turned her head and pressed an openmouthed kiss to his knuckles,
temporarily shorting out his brain. Oh, God. Gabe should get out of bed and demand to
know what the hell was going on. How many times had he tried to stem the tide of
loneliness with a one-night stand, only to wake up the next morning, more empty than
he’d been before?

But before he could disentangle their bodies, she ran her hand down his chest, her

fingertips dancing along the edge of the suddenly not-thick-enough sheet. Gabe bit back a
groan. To hell with it. He couldn’t forget her name the morning after if he didn’t know
what it was to begin with, right? She could chase away the bitter cold inside him for a
little while. He’d deal with the consequences tomorrow.

“Are you sure?” Christ, his voice was so roughed up from sleep that it barely sounded

like his own.

Her little sigh seemed to roll through his entire body. Gabe found himself holding his

breath as he waited for her answer. When she spoke, it was so soft he almost missed the
words. “I’m sure.”

Working in his nightclubs, he spent a lot of time around bartenders and brassy dames—

chicks who knew what they wanted and didn’t hesitate to go after it. He liked how
different this woman was, how she trembled against him when her arms wound around
his neck, how her tongue darted out, so damn tentative, and traced his bottom lip. He
opened to her and his first taste, all peppermint and woman, made his head spin. It felt…
clean. Innocent. Perfect.

He wasn’t exactly a magnet for innocent girls—not with the tats covering so much of his

upper body and crawling up his neck. They took one look at him and decided he wasn’t
the knight in shining armor type.

They were right.
But maybe he wanted to be.
Gabe shut off that nagging part of his brain and let himself enjoy this new experience.

Her hand trailed up his chest, pausing over his pecs before finally cupping his jaw. Each
touch was light and almost…treasuring. It burned through Gabe and his body instantly
jumped to attention, demanding he do more than hold this woman. But instead of
yanking her on top of him like he wanted to, he touched the back of her neck, relishing
the softness of her skin, marveling at how fragile she felt, and ran his other hand down
her side. Ruffles and satin and…more ruffles. What in God’s name was this chick wearing?

Finally, he found the silky skin of her thigh. Gabe went still as she shivered, making a

noise in the back of her throat. That little whimper, more than anything else, undid him.
He had to have her. Now.

Deepening the kiss, he hooked his hand around the back of her thigh and lifted her

easily, settling her over his hips, a leg on either side of him. She gave a little yelp that

turned to a moan when he rocked against her, only two thin pieces of cloth between
them. Letting go of her neck, he moved just enough to kick down the sheet—one problem
down, one to go.

She gasped, pulling away long enough to say, “You’re naked.”
Wasn’t that the point? Before Gabe could ask, she was kissing him again, bolder this

time. He pulled off her dress thing, nearly cursing when she had to let go of him to toss it
aside. But then she was back, keeping up the torturously light stroking. He leaned up and
took one of her nipples in his mouth, sucking hard until her hips jerked. Every one of her
responses was so…he didn’t even know. It was as if she’d never been touched before.

Gabe took her other nipple, lashing it with his tongue until her entire body quivered. He

ran his hand down her stomach, cupping her through her silk panties. Even with so little
foreplay, she was ready for him. He traced the edge of the fabric, hooking it with his
fingers, barely touching her heated skin. She cried out and he gave up teasing to push
one finger inside her.

Feeling her wet warmth clamp around him, the desire to flip her over and bury himself

in  her  nearly  made  Gabe  pass  out.  No.  He  needed  to  slow  down.  Savor  her  while  he
could.  Working  her  with  his  finger,  he  moved  back  to  her  first  breast,  covering  it  with
open  mouthed  kisses  as  he  pushed  a  second  finger  into  her.  Gabe  twisted  his  wrist,
searching for the spot that would drive her wild.

Her entire body shuddered when he found what he was looking for, mercilessly stroking

it with his fingertips. “Oh…oh God…it feels so…I’ve never…”

Never? Christ. This was the best night ever. Gabe wrapped his free arm around her

waist, holding her in place as he kept it up until she arched, throwing her head back, her
nails digging into his shoulders as she cried out.

He’d never heard anything so beautiful in his entire life.
Now. Gabe had to have her now. But her hands didn’t seem to know what to do now

that she’d come, fluttering from his neck to shoulders to neck again. Gabe ached with the
need for her do more. “Touch me.”

Her entire body went rigid, and he only had half a second to wonder if he’d said

something wrong before she shrieked.

The guy in bed with her was not Nathan.

Which meant Elle was buck-naked and wantonly riding the wrong guy.
She scrambled away from him and immediately fell off the bed. He hadn’t sounded

quite  right  when  he  asked  if  this  was  okay,  but  Elle  had  been  too  focused  on  not
embarrassing  herself  to  worry  about  how  he  sounded  just  then—he  had  been  asleep,
after  all,  and  why  would  there  be  another  guy  in  Nathan’s  bed?—but  there  was  no
mistaking the difference in his voice now.

She needed to catch her breath, but she could hear him moving closer to where she’d

landed in a heap. “Babe, what’s wrong?”

Babe? She scrambled to the wall and flailed for the light switch. When the lights clicked

on, it was everything she could do to not hyperventilate. “Oh my God.”

How could she have mistaken that man for Nathan? Sure, they had freakishly similar

bodies—or at least what she pictured Nathan’s body would look like—and similar hair, but
this man had tattoos. Elle nearly whimpered at the sight of so much ink. Even from this
distance, she could tell it was really well done—more artwork than branding. Good God,
he practically had a neon sign over his head that screamed “Bad Boy.”

He was exactly the type of man she would have chosen for herself.
Making him exactly the type of man she’d vowed to avoid at any cost. And she’d almost

slept with him.

Oh God, oh God, oh God. A thick band tightened around her chest, making it impossible

to catch a full breath. Spots danced over her vision as she fought to inhale. She was going
to die right here in Nathan’s loft. They’d find her naked body and that’s what she’d be
known as until the end of time—the woman who died in the middle of a botched
seduction of the wrong man. Her mother would bring her back from the dead just to kill
her for the embarrassment to the family.

Elle swayed, smacking into the wall with her back. Not enough air. She clawed at her

chest, desperate for oxygen. A hand grabbed her chin, forcing her to look into gorgeous
brown eyes. “Breathe, babe. Big inhale, hold it, now exhale.”

Air rushed into her lungs, so much it made her light-headed. Elle shuddered at the

strength of his fingers digging into her jaw. It didn’t hurt, but there was no mistaking the
possibilities they held. Heck, hadn’t she seen that all too well just five minutes ago? “Get
away from me,” she wheezed, smacking his hands away.

He let go of her, but he didn’t move back nearly enough. “What’s wrong?”
What was wrong? Everything was wrong. Right about now she was supposed to be

making love to Nathan, not standing naked in front of a stranger. His gaze flicked over
her chest and she immediately tried to cover her breasts with her hands. “This isn’t
happening.”

Maybe this was all a fever dream. That had to be it. She was probably safely tucked

away in her bed, tossing and turning and twisting up the sheets. Elle closed her eyes and
then opened them again. That too-masculine face still dominated her vision, perfectly
shaped lips turning down in a frown. Why was she noticing his lips? “Oh God, this is
happening.”

The guy crossed his arms over his chest, which only served to remind her that he was

naked. Against her will, her eyes skated down his nicely muscled torso and got stuck right
around his hips. It didn’t help that he was still aroused.

Time to go, Elle.

“Wait.” He reached for her again, but she scrambled back, desperate to stay out of

reach. God only knew what would happen if she had his hands on her again. “Please don’t
go.”

The man held out his arms as if he were trying to calm a skittish horse. Elle didn’t like

that mental comparison. At all. She started sliding sideways away from him. “This was a
mistake. A terrible mistake.” And she had to get out of there.

“Like hell it was.”
She snatched up her lingerie then changed her mind, tossing it on the floor and

grabbing the sheet he’d kicked off the bed. She wrapped it around her body. “You know
what? It doesn’t matter. Right? Right.”

“It might help if you told me what’s going on.”
Elle forced her gaze back to his face. What’s going on? It felt pretty obvious to her.

She’d almost had sex with a stranger. If he hadn’t said anything, she would have. Her
breathing got all choppy again just thinking about the implications. “You’re not Nathan,”
she choked out.

He dropped heavily onto the bed, emotions flickering over his face. Shock. Horror. Guilt.

Something that might be regret.

She pressed her fingers to her mouth. “I have to go. I’m sorry.” And then she fled,

closing the door softly behind her.

Chapter Two

You’re not Nathan.

A terrible idea had blossomed in his mind the second the words left that gorgeous

mouth of hers. He hadn’t just hooked up with his brother’s girlfriend, had he? Christ, he’d
even liked it. This was not okay.

Gabe bolted off the bed. No way was she getting away that easily. Not without some

sort of explanation. He pulled on his pants and threw open the door.

The loft, of course, was empty.
Ignoring the little voice inside demanding he give up and crawl back into bed, he

marched to the other bedroom and banged on the door. “You better be goddamned
decent, Nathan.” When his little brother grumbled a response, Gabe strode into the room.
“Get up.”

Nathan burrowed under one of the five pillows on his bed. “Go away.”
Gabe yanked off his blanket and smacked him on the back. “Up.”
“What the hell?” He lifted his head long enough to look at the digital clock on his

nightstand. “Why am I awake at this ungodly hour?”

“You aren’t dating anyone, are you?” It was a long shot with Nathan’s history, but he’d

never forgive himself if he’d nearly banged his brother’s girlfriend.

“What? No. Where would you get an idea like that?”
“You know a blonde? Gorgeous, rockin’ body, about yea high?” He held his hand up to

his shoulder.

Nathan sat up and ran his hands over his face. “Could be a number of women I know.”
“This one would be nursing a thing for you.”
His little brother cringed. “My coordinator, Elle. Sweet girl, really nice—innocent even.

She’s been throwing hints like crazy that she wants me to ask her out, but it’s just not
there for me.”

Sweet. Nice. While those words might work, Gabe didn’t believe the innocent part. She

might be mostly a good girl, but good girls didn’t crawl into bed intent on seducing a man.
Then again, what did he know? Gabe didn’t make a habit of associating with good girls.

“Elle.” He liked the way her name rolled off his tongue, though. Hell, he’d like to roll

more than that off his tongue.

“Why are you asking?”
He considered lying, but he’d never get away with it. Especially with his brother. “You

swear you don’t want her?”

“I would tell if you if I did.” Nathan narrowed his eyes. “What’s going on?”
Gabe took a deep breath and told him everything. When he finished, Nathan was

laughing so hard his face turned a mottled shade of red. Seeing the horrified look on Elle’s
face all over again, the perfect “o” of her pink lips when she’d turned on the light and got
a look at him, Gabe barely resisted punching something—preferably his idiot brother’s
face. “I don’t see what’s so goddamn hilarious.”

“Only you. This would only happen to you.” Nathan made an effort to be serious, but he

couldn’t seem to stop grinning. “I never would have guessed she had a scheme like this in
her. I’m actually kind of impressed.”

“Ha ha ha. So funny she freaked out in the middle of it, and ran off without even

getting dressed first.” Gabe ran a hand through his hair and sat heavily on the side of
Nathan’s bed. “Hell, man, she took your sheet.”

That sobered his brother up. “If she quits because of this, I’m not going to be happy.”
So it wasn’t just the loss of his 1,500-thread-count sheets that wiped the smile off his

brother’s face. “None of this is my goddamn fault.”

Nathan frowned. “You’re more pissed about this than I’d expect.”
Despite being the younger brother, he’d always been overprotective of Gabe. They

were all each other had. But that didn’t mean he wanted to get into the mushy stuff or
explain how much it hurt to have Elle literally run from him after the glimpse of heaven
she’d given him. “I just… She’s different.”

“Yes, she is, which is why I’m not going to be happy if she quits.” Nathan sighed and

climbed out of bed. “Don’t suppose you started coffee before bursting in here? Because
obviously I’m not getting any more sleep tonight.”

“Nope.”
“Sadist.”
“You act like you’re surprised.” Gabe followed him into the kitchen and grabbed a stool.
They both watched the coffee fill the pot, one drip at a time. It was only when he’d

poured two cups that Nathan finally said, “It’s good to have you back.”

Gabe had been gone longer than normal this time around. It wasn’t planned, but

everything that could go wrong had with the L.A. club. “It’s good to be home.” Or it had
been until Elle climbed into his bed and then acted like she’d kissed a monster. Not
exactly the most encouraging response.

As they drank their coffee, Gabe watched his brother. Nathan looked like shit. Oh, not

that the average person would notice, but Gabe was family—he knew when something
was wrong with his brother. It had been like this for a long time, but things seemed to be
worse every time he came home. “How you doing?”

Nathan shrugged, just like he always did. “Fine. Working on something new and it’s

kicking my ass.”

Gabe had the sneaking suspicion the source of his little brother’s demons was a woman

from their past, but they never talked about it. “You say that, and then it ends up selling

for a shit-ton of money.”

“I’m good at what I do.” He finally grinned. “So how was L.A.? Took your ass long

enough to get back here.”

“It was a mess. The G.M. I hired had a thing for pretty redheaded bartenders with more

tits than sense, and he was skimming off the top. I finally had to fire the whole lot of
them.” A month. A whole damn month to find a decent replacement. “But I found a chick
who knows her stuff. Lynn doesn’t take shit from anyone.” Gabe needed a ballbuster to
keep all those high-strung bartenders in line.

“How long you sticking around this time?”
“No idea. I’m going to need to visit the rest of the clubs soon—make sure things are

running smoothly. You know, the usual.” He tried to do a tour of the clubs he owned at
least two or three times a year. It was too easy for things to slip under the radar when he
wasn’t around. Then again, he might actually have a new reason to stick around Spokane
now. “So tell me about Elle.”

Nathan set his cup down. “Like I said, she’s a good girl. Works hard, though I don’t

know much about her private life. I served with her brother in Iraq. He’s a good guy, a
better soldier. I can tell you right now Ian won’t like you sniffing around his precious little
sister.”

What big brother would? Gabe wasn’t exactly the kind of man women took home to

meet their parents. He had the hard life written all over him, from the way he carried
himself to the ink on his skin. Always had. The thought made him want to snarl. “She’s
the one who started this.”

“Hey, I’m not arguing with you. All I’m asking is, how far do you plan on taking it?”
It was something he hadn’t considered. Gabe took a drink of the cooling coffee. There

were too many variables to say for sure. All he knew was that he didn’t want his last sight
of Elle to be her fleeing from him. “I don’t know, but I want to find out.”

“Then I suppose you’ll need to ask her out.”
Again, the look on her face appeared in his head. “I doubt she’d say yes.”
“And when has a little thing like ‘no’ stood in the way of your goal?”
If Gabe were put off by rejection, he never would have gotten their first nightclub off

the ground, inherited money or no. Hell, even if he’d been able to start that first club,
there wouldn’t be clubs in all the major West Coast cities. He grinned. “A good point, little
brother, a very good point.”

Want more? Grab your copy of

Wrong Bed, Right Guy

today!

And watch for Nathan’s book,

Two Wrongs, One Right

coming Summer 2013!

Eight years ago, former Army sergeant Nathan Schultz let the love of his life disappear
without a fight. After watching everyone around him find happiness while he slipped
further away, he’s finally ready to fight for Chelsea Callaghan—and he’s not afraid to play
dirty.

Chelsea has always followed her conservative family’s rules—with one heartbreaking

exception. When she receives an invitation to an old high school friend’s wedding, she
knows who’s to blame. Though she goes solely to give Nathan a piece of her mind, he
blackmails her into staying the entire week. With him.

There’s no way she’ll bow to Nathan’s will without making him pay. Unfortunately,

revenge is a dish best served fully clothed, and they can’t be in the same room without
losing theirs. As insatiable, anger-fueled lust shifts into something more, they begin to
lose sight of why they can’t be together. But with so many unforgivable wrongs between
them, can Nathan and Chelsea ever make things right?

Acknowledgments

First and foremost, as always, to God.

A huge, gigantic, OMG thank-you to Heather Howland. Each book is a journey, and this

one was longer and far more winding than most. Thank you for the countless e-mails and
brainstorming sessions, and for never once questioning that this book would be awesome.
I couldn’t have done it without you.

To Liz, for helping when we couldn’t see the forest for the trees.
To Tahra, for going through the earlier versions of this book, and to Haleigh for going

through the more recent ones. You both helped me get Ian and Roxanne to where they
needed to be.

To Seleste, for being there through this wild ride and letting me vent and squee and

everything in between. You’re the best friend a crazy kid like me could ask for.

To Ben and Deece, for never blinking when I text/e-mail/call with truly strange

questions.

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