Because a Husband Is Forever (10 page)

“Um, hold it a second. This is happening a little too fast. I—”

Rather than press, she was surprised to have him follow her lead. “My fault,” Ian acknowledged, backing away.

It wasn't what she wanted to hear. A prisoner of con
fusion and scrambled emotions, she could feel irritation mounting. “No, damn it, it's not your ‘fault.'” Did he think she was some kind of child, to be swept away by any man's will? She was her own person, not some man's puppet. “There you go again, making it seem as if I'm some kind of helpless little dolt—”

Without thinking, Ian touched his fingers to his lips. Unaware of what the simple action did to the woman watching him. “No, I wouldn't call you a helpless little dolt.”

“You didn't take advantage of me or the moment,” she insisted.

“Okay.”

The single word only served to inflame her further. “I wanted to kiss you as much as you wanted to kiss me.” She watched a corner of his mouth rise ever so slightly. He was still humoring her. She wasn't getting through to him, damn it. What did it take? “Nothing happens to me that I don't want to happen.”

He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Got it. You're independent.”

“Damn straight I am.”

And then, as if to prove it, she threw away the life preserver that was securely around her. For all the world, Dakota felt as if she was on some kind of roller-coaster ride and couldn't find a way to get off. She'd never behaved like this around anyone else, never felt like this around anyone else. Just what kind of buttons did this man press with her?

Desperate to prove her independence, she stepped back into the ring of fire.

This time
she
kissed
him.
Kissed him as if she was executing some kind of payback.

The moment she did, she immediately lost herself. She was free-falling. It was as if she'd opened a door and, rather than stepping out onto a balcony, found nothing beneath her feet except space. The air in her lungs backed up as she went plunging down a ravine.

Dakota held on for dear life as she felt her blood surging through her veins, heard some kind of wild rushing noise in her ears. She was hotter than she could ever recall outside of the one time she'd had the flu that first spring in college. But even that fever had been mild compared to the one consuming her right now.

Ian could feel his body priming, could feel himself wanting her. He never crossed this kind of line with a client. Ever. He was supposed to behave professionally, not like some smitten idiot fresh out of a monastery.

Which, in a way, he was.

He'd kept himself so busy with work, he couldn't remember the last time he'd made love with a woman. No one had to tell him that having his wife walk out on him had left a devastating mark. Part of him had thought he could do without women.

That part stood corrected.

But it couldn't be this woman. This woman was vulnerable, and no matter what she said to the contrary, if he pressed, if they wound up making love the way every
bone in his body was begging him to, he'd be doing nothing short of taking advantage of her.

Like that scum cooling his heels in the holding pen at the police station.

Hands on her shoulders, Ian drew his head back and gently created space between them. It cost him more than he'd thought it would. But honor didn't come cheaply.

Her lips looked slightly swollen. Something quickened inside of him, urged him to give in. He held fast to his position, even as it threatened to slip out of his hands.

“I think maybe it's time to go to bed.”

Dakota wanted him to take her, to kiss her again until she was utterly mindless. She wanted him to carry her off so that she could pretend—to herself—that she wasn't really to blame. That it was just one of those things that happened between a man and a woman. She didn't want common sense intervening.

She took in a breath and looked up at him. Her mind was as clear as the harbor when a low-lying fog crept in. “What?”

Adorable. Now, there was a word that hardly ever crossed his mind, he thought, but it was applicable when used to describe the expression on her face. Adorable. “Separately.”

“Oh.” Disappointment crashed in on her. She blinked, trying to focus. The clouds in her brain remained. “Right.”

Stung, hurt, afraid of saying anything that might give
her feelings away, she turned and walked away from him on shaky legs.

And slept not at all the entire night.

A
wkwardness was not within her normal repertoire, yet that was what she felt the moment she went into the kitchen the next morning. Ian was there on the phone, making breakfast while he spoke in low tones to someone on the other end of the line.

Who? she wondered as she stopped in the doorway. His partner? Or some woman? Was the latter the reason he didn't want to follow the natural path that was laid out for them last night?

Straining and holding her breath, she found she still couldn't hear.

My God, I'm jealous. Jealous about some bodyguard cloned out of rock.

She really had fallen over the edge, Dakota thought, annoyed with herself. Damn it, it didn't matter who he was talking to. Why should she care? In another week, this man with his piercing glance would be out of her life and this ridiculous charade would be over.

She nodded curtly at him as she took the coffee he'd prepared. She tried to wrap herself up in everything but thoughts of him.

Of course, it didn't work.

 

It was a long day, made longer by the fact that she'd gotten next to no sleep the night before. Added to the irritation caused by sleeplessness had been her audience's glee over the story featured not only inside the entertainment section, but also on the front page of the local news section. MacKenzie had brought it to her attention just before they'd gone on the air. The caption had read: Talk Show Hostess Does More Than Talk and it had featured a photograph of her decking the creep who'd slipped the drug into her drink.

The second she'd emerged on the set, wild applause exploded. It escalated until she found herself the recipient of a standing ovation.

She'd glanced back to see Ian's reaction, but as always, he looked stoic. That, too, irritated her. Didn't anything register with this man on a personal level?

Had he felt nothing at all when they'd kissed last night?

She'd forced herself to push the question away.

The question-and-answer segment of her program
threatened to take over the whole show if she didn't call a halt to it. The audience's disappointment could be felt in the first few minutes of the day's major interview.

That hadn't been the worst of it.

Members of her family called the minute they'd read the story on the West Coast. Her cell phone was constantly ringing. First her father, who'd gotten the heads-up from a fellow newscaster, then her mother. That call was followed by her grandfather, who read about the incident in the paper. It made her grateful that she didn't have a large, extended family the way some people did.

Her brother, Paul, had been particularly testy because, in a fit of desperation, she'd shut off her cell for a while. That had apparently been just when he had begun trying to call her. Of them all, Paul was the one who was a little straitlaced. It occurred to her as she listened to him that he and Ian might hit it off very well if they ever met each other. Which they weren't going to do, she reminded herself.

“I thought you were above that kind of thing.” Paul's voice had been nothing short of accusing. She knew he hated being embarrassed. Her older brother probably figured their free-spirited mother was his only liability in that department. Surprise.

Still, she'd expected support from her sibling, not an upbraiding. “Some guy tried to slip a drug into my drink. It could have happened to anyone.”

“Most people don't get their photograph splattered all over the place when it does.” Out of all of them, he
was the one who had shunned the spotlight and notoriety as if it was a second calling. He was the exact opposite of their mother, who loved it. There had been a time when their mother would have gone bareback riding on an eagle if it would have gotten her attention. Paul paused, then asked, “Are you okay?”

At the show of concern, the dark thoughts she was having about him faded. “I'm fine.”

She heard paper rustling on the other end. She wondered which story he'd read, but thought it best not to ask.

“Lucky that bodyguard you have was so alert,” he commented.

“He's not my bodyguard.” The protest was automatic. Unless you were being stalked, she saw no reason to have bought and paid for muscle tracing your every step—unless you were vain. “He's just an experiment.”

She heard her brother clear his throat. “I think I'm probably better off not knowing what that means.”

“Watch some of those tapes of the show you're always claiming you're making and maybe you'll get a clue.” She knew Paul was busy at work while her show aired, but he was always saying that he was faithfully taping each episode.

“I've got to go, Dakota. Next time, try to be more careful.”

She promised and hung up. She certainly had no intention of being reckless or punching out someone else. Her problem now was that she still couldn't shake the
restlessness that had been humming through her all day. It seemed to grow as the day progressed.

By all rights, because she was so tired, she should have just gone straight to bed the second she walked into her apartment. The thought of making contact with her king-size bed and its soft satin comforter had loomed before her like a seductive goal all day long.

But as the day progressed, as one thing built on another, the thought of going home and sharing the space with just Ian again created a nervousness within her that seeped into the center of her exhaustion. The tension continued to grow until it infused her with a shot of energy or adrenaline or something along those lines.

And it had her accepting Jerry Cole's invitation to dinner in a moment of complete distraction, not to mention madness. Jerry had cornered her just after the show, before she'd had time to even begin preparing for the next day's program.

He might not have gotten to her if she'd been thinking straight, Dakota ruminated now.

Jerry wasn't awful. There was just no chemistry between them, even though he thought there was. But when he asked, she'd said yes, and now, as she walked into her apartment, she went straight for her closet to try to put on something that would trouble Ian but not arouse Jerry.

Not exactly an easy task.

She worked her way from one end of her closet to the other. Then, in another moment of weakness, she de
cided to sacrifice Jerry in order to get back at Ian. She chose one of her sexier dresses, an electric-blue dress that appeared simple on the hanger, gorgeous on her body as it clung to every inch of her, beguilingly tantalizing the imagination it had set off.

Dakota wasn't even sure why she was going through with this, other than the fact that she felt she needed a breather from this man who was all but hermetically sealed to her side. That and it was Friday. She liked unwinding on Fridays.

So why did she feel so damn wound up? she wondered as she quickly showered and reapplied her makeup. Things were going well. Except for that blip in the road caused by John, her life was on track. She had a wonderful career and a better family. If ever there was a candidate for contentment poster child, it should have been her.

But it wasn't.

She decided it was best not to explore that until she had more sleep under her belt.

“You have the night off,” she declared as she walked into the living room.

There was a novel on the coffee table, awaiting his pleasure. The bookmark indicated that he was about halfway through the tome, a novel by James Michener. The man had to be a speed reader, she thought. Either that, or he skipped huge chunks of the book.

Right now, he was making notes in his black notebook. When she'd asked him about it the other day, he'd
said simply that he kept a journal while on the job. Curiosity had eaten away at her. She wanted to know what, if anything, he wrote about her that was remotely of a personal nature. But the book, like his tongue, seemed to be kept under lock and key. When he wasn't making entries, the book was completely out of sight.

Ian glanced up, and only restraint had him keeping his eyes in his head. The woman could have accomplished just as much wrapping herself in electric-blue plastic wrap. Had there been a pencil in his hand, it would have found itself broken in two, a casualty of the surge he felt inside. As it was, he managed to bend his pen.

Still, he kept his voice steady. “The agreement is, I don't take nights off.”

“I have a date,” she told him. She watched his face for a reaction, hating herself for caring.

His expression never changed. “I know.”

Of course he did. Why did she think it would be otherwise? Annoyed that he seemed so all right with it, she dug in.

“Dates usually mean two people, unless it's a group date, at which time an even number of people go. You might not know this but you alone are not an even number, hence, you're not coming.”

There was just the slightest hint of a smile on his lips. “I'll be there, you just might not know it.”

She blew out a breath. This definitely wasn't going the way she wanted it to. She wanted him to stay here—
and possibly sulk. But at the very least, she wanted to get away from him. Then maybe she could stop thinking about him and wondering why it had been so easy for him to walk away last night.

“Are you planning on wiring me?”

“If you ask me, you're already pretty wired.” He leaned in to her, trying not to notice that she was wearing a sexier perfume than usual. One that made him want to slip back into the transgression he'd committed last night. It took effort not to visibly react, but he congratulated himself on holding firm. “Don't worry, I won't interrupt anything. I'll be discreet.”

“How do I know you won't pop up in various disguises?”

He laughed then, a small, mirthless sound. “You watch too many bad movies.”

Annoyed, stymied, she threw up her hands. “And I'm stuck in a bad nightmare.”

His eyes met and held hers. “Are there good nightmares?”

Dakota didn't answer. Or maybe her huge sigh did her answering for her. Like an eleventh-hour savior, the doorbell rang. She began to cross to the door when Ian placed himself between her and her goal.

“I'll do it,” he told her.

Exasperated, she raised her hands as she stepped back. “Knock yourself out.”

Rather than ask who it was the way he'd told her to do, Ian opened the door. But then, given that he was
eight inches taller and about a hundred pounds heavier, Ian was far more of a force to be reckoned with than she was. The look on Jerry's face certainly said as much.

The latter's brown eyes darted back and forth between them. “Is…is she ready?” he asked uncertainly.

He was
not
going to speak for her, Dakota thought. She deliberately slipped out around the barrier Ian had formed with his body. “I'm ready.” Thinking this was not one of her better ideas, she still forced cheer into her voice.

“Um, is he going with us?” Jerry looked up at Ian, then back at her. The uncertainty on his face increased.

“Not exactly,” Dakota responded. Grabbing her coat, she wrapped both her arms around one of his and drew him toward the elevator. “There's a hundred in it for you if you lose him,” she whispered.

Jerry laughed nervously in response.

Dakota had a sinking feeling that they weren't going to lose Ian anytime soon.

 

They didn't.

Even though Ian had told her that he would be discreet, she was acutely aware of him the entire time. In the restaurant he was seated at a table for one twenty feet away. Close enough to spring into action if necessary. He'd said he'd be far away enough to give her some privacy. It wasn't enough, in her book.

She did her best to pretend that the tall, dark man wasn't there. It was like being on the edge of a forest fire with your back to it, pretending not to feel the heat.

Impossible.

The evening turned out to be relatively short. She and Jerry ate, made the smallest of talk, and before she knew it, she was back at her door, relieved that it was over, unhappy that she felt that way. Jerry was attractive and intelligent. Why couldn't she enjoy herself in his company? Why did she feel like yawning every two seconds?

She forced herself to appear reluctant to have the evening end.

“Would you like to come in?” she suggested once he'd brought her up to her penthouse apartment. For the moment, Ian still hadn't joined them. But she knew his absence was going to be short-lived. He was probably parking his car in the garage even now.

For a fleeting second, Jerry seemed tempted, but then shook his head. “I get claustrophobic with someone breathing down my neck.”

She laughed shortly. “Welcome to the club.” It hadn't been fair of her to say yes to Jerry. Not under these circumstances, and had they not been in place, she would never have thought of going out with him. Guilt strummed through her. “I'm sorry about this.”

“Don't be. Maybe we can do it again sometime when you don't have to have a chaperon around.”

“Russell isn't my chaperon,” she insisted, “he's my bodyguard.”

“In this case, same difference,” Jerry countered.

He started to lean in to kiss her. She supposed she
owed him that much, although the thought of kissing Jerry left her cold. She braced herself. Just then the penthouse elevator doors opened and Jerry jumped back like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.

“Maybe a rain check.” He took a couple of steps back. “Take care of yourself. See you Monday.” Passing Ian on his way to the elevator, he nodded nervously. Ian inclined his head as the man got into the car.

“First floor's already pressed,” he said, turning away.

Dakota glared at Ian as the elevator doors closed. “You scared him away.”

“If you ask me, I did you a favor. The man's a loser.”

She'd come to the same conclusion, but she wasn't about to concede the point. “What would you know about it?”