Chasing Mrs. Right (5 page)

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.