Fly Me Home: Home is Where the Heat Is, Book 4 (4 page)

Liz laughed, pressing her forehead to his. “I’ll take you up on that, much later.”

“I’m going to hold you to that.” He slapped her bottom gently. “Right now, I think it’s time to do some shopping.”

“Wow,” she teased. “You really know how to sweet talk a girl, don’t you?”

Chapter Five

Ian tried to make the—clean up/afterglow/regret glance—process as simple as possible for Elizabeth. She’d blown his mind when she’d finally let go and accepted what her body had been begging for. Her certain brand of reserved and old-fashioned was an enigma he’d never encountered, and something about the way she always acted like a lady, even in the vise clamp of a great orgasm, had him reeling.

He’d tied his robe moments before she came back from the bathroom, and since her robe was tied tight again, he figured he’d made the right decision. She needed time, even if all he wanted was to take the offending article away and demand that she sit with him naked. They had many more sexual tastes to discover, and he was willing to wait her out. Instead of pushing, he patted the seat next to him. She’d been so tense before and after their sexual encounter, he needed to give her some sort of escape. “Let’s shop.”

“I appreciate your easygoing attitude,” she admitted. “Considering what we just…”

“Good,” he interrupted, sliding over a bit to give her room. “This is a new experience for both of us, so we’ll tweak the rules as we go. For now, let’s take the easiest route and focus on something mindless.”

“With incentive like that, how could I, and why the hell would I, want to refuse?” She smiled. “But I feel I should warn you, I have a boot fetish that could potentially drain your bank account.”

“Bring it on.”

Her body was stiff as a board when she shimmied onto the seat next to him. There was more than enough room, but the close quarters had them snuggled tight, thigh to thigh, shoulder to shoulder. He flipped through tab after tab of websites hoping an alternate focus would get her to relax. “These are the suppliers who can have your wardrobe ready by the time we land.”

“You’re shitting me?” Her eyes were wide. “That’s in hours.”

“I wouldn’t shit ya,” he drawled too loosely in Texan slang. “Yer my favoritest turd.”

Liz had just taken a sip of her wine and she slapped a hand over her mouth to keep it in. Swallowing hard, she chuckled. “How long were you in Texas?”

“Obviously a few hours too long if that just came out of my mouth.” He scowled.
What the fuck?
“Ignore it. We need to choose some colors.”

Ian launched into a drawn-out explanation about the colors and styles that might fit her best. As he talked, she began to relax. He poured her another glass of wine and kept her busy. Soon, she settled in more comfortably and started pointing out outfits she liked. He tried to steer her toward styles that would flatter her body. She snuggled in closer the longer they surfed. He convinced her to try a few ensembles he thought she’d look amazing in, and helped her accessorize and match other outfits until they’d put together a sharp wardrobe.

Setting the iPad aside, he took a long sip of his wine. “You weren’t kidding when you said you liked boots.”

“I’m sorry.” She yawned hugely. “Did I buy too much?”

“You didn’t even scratch the surface. I ordered more than you know.” He looped an arm around her shoulders and tucked her in closer to his side. “I think we have fourteen outfits. By day three you’ll have worn four or five of them.”

“That’s insane,” she cried. “Who changes two or three times a day?”

“Everyone who’s everyone in Milan, my dear.” He shifted into full-on fashion mode. The more he talked the more she seemed to relax. She asked questions and listened, her eyes heavy.

When he took a breath from answering her numerous questions, she smiled. “Days ago, I never would have believed I’d be enthralled by the fashion industry. Truth is, I always thought it was stick figures in god-awful clothes that a normal person wouldn’t be seen dead wearing.”

He took a sip of his wine. “And now?”

“You kind of give it a touch of humanity and realism.” Her voice was soft and sweet. Almost shy. “I like your passion for what you do.”

Running his fingers down her forehead to her eyelids, he eased them closed. “You need to get some sleep. I can’t have my date worn out with bags under her eyes.”

She didn’t open her eyes, but her little grin was endearing. “Do you want me to go to bed? You can’t be comfortable.”

Hitting the button to recline the chair, Ian smiled. “I’d like you to stay right where you are. It’s been a while since I felt this at ease. It’s nice to have company.”

“Yeah. It is kinda nice.” She yawned again. “My gram always said ain’t nothing like a warm mix o’ honey and whiskey to make a body sleep like a babe.”

“Which am I, Elizabeth?”

She nuzzled into his chest. Her gram sounded like the grandma he’d always imagined… He’d let her do all the talking tonight. Her quips of home, family and community were so out of his norm he could listen for hours. She’d grown up in an old Western novel so far as he could tell.

“Both.” She yawned again, her words low and raspy. “I like it when you call me that. No one else does. It makes me feel—like the person I always wished I could be.”

She drifted off to sleep. Ian held her tight, watching the tops of the clouds slither by. Everything about her intrigued him. He was fascinated by her thoughts and ways of doing things. He wasn’t sure when his life had become boring and stale. But it had. He felt it more acutely now that Elizabeth was around. With her in his arms, he could forget…

Maybe even pretend for a while that life was exciting and fun again.

“Mr. Malcolm, we’ll be landing in thirty minutes.”

Liz woke with a start.

She blinked heavily, trying to orient herself. Ian’s warm body was the first thing she remembered, then the previous night came back in toe-curling detail. She glanced up at his handsome face.

Even in sleep he was gorgeous. His robe had slid open sometime during their nap, as had hers. Their bodies were a tangled mess of soft cloth and bare skin. Her heart rate flared and she tried to breathe slowly to calm it. She wanted to watch him sleep. From the moment she’d met him, he’d been professional, sophisticated and fun. But she never got the feeling she was seeing the real him. She didn’t think he was hiding anything deliberately, just that the real him was buried under the weight of who he had to be in public. Even his story about Jimmy felt rehearsed. Seeing him this relaxed was a treat, and she didn’t want to wake him. A sinful five o’clock shadow darkened his strong jaw, framing his goatee to give him a rugged, earthy look. Much different than the neatly groomed, immaculate person who’d saved her at the benefit, or even the controlled man who’d made her do and feel things she’d never imagined last night.

Stretching carefully, she peeked out the window. Dark clouds surrounded the plane, and as she watched them float by, she wondered where they were, and what time it was.

Ian stirred beneath her, his chest rumbling with a low moan. He glanced at his watch. “Looks like it’s nearing showtime.”

“Meaning?” she asked.

“We have about two hours from when we land until our first engagement.” He sat the seat up a bit and pulled her close, resting his head on hers. “I’m glad you got some sleep, because you’re going to need all your energy for the kickoff gala when we land tonight.”

“Tonight?” she parroted. “Shouldn’t it be morning?”

“Afraid not.” He shook his head. “We flew forward in time baby. It’ll be early evening when we land.”

Attempting that math was way outside her mental capacities on a normal day. Right now, she had all she could do to stall the panic threatening to take hold. This was about to get real.

Real
didn’t quite cover it. From the second they’d landed she’d been passed from one set of hands to another. Every portion of her body had been plucked, brushed, cleaned, buffed, massaged or trimmed. Three hours later, dressed in a low-cut, open-back nude dress with navy roses patterned in thick coverage at the chest and waist, she climbed into the limousine with Ian and let out an exhausted sigh.

She kicked off her high heels immediately and wiggled her toes. The gala had been everything he’d warned her about and more. She’d met an abundance of snobs in every odd outfit imaginable, but a few friendly folks had fallen in love with her thick Texas accent, and she’d been whisked away from Ian time and again. Several people had commented on the “wave” of country taking hold since America’s
StyleU
magazine had introduced Cash Dillon. She had so many notes and observations saved on her phone she’d be able to write a detailed article just from one night. Taking notes wasn’t easy either. She had to text them or e-mail them to herself because she couldn’t be a reporter in his world. She had to act as his date.

When Ian had told her it was time to kiss and make a deliciously rumor-rich early exit, she’d been more than ready to go. Now they were on their way to an after party where, Ian had whispered in her ear, the real fun happened.

He slid onto the seat next to her and waited until the door closed on the flashing media cameras that had followed him through the gala all night. Scooting over, he looped an arm over her shoulders and pulled her in tight against him. “You were fucking amazing.”

“Really?” She peeked up at him through her lashes. Missy, the petite blonde who’d done her makeup, had thickened her lashes and darkened her eyes until Liz had barely been able to recognize herself in the mirror. “To be honest, I felt like a duck outta water.”

“No one scared you too much, did they?”

“No.” Almost true. Most of them had scared her. “There were some big personalities there tonight. What was with the guy in the green?”

Ian chuckled. “Marciano? He’s harmless but eccentric to extremes. The green tonight was in protest to the earth tones taking fashion week by storm. He caved, even when he protests.”

“Meaning?” The fashion world spoke a different language, and she’d been lost a good portion of the night. “You realize I know nothing about any of this? I was supposed to do an interview with a homegrown country boy and ask questions about how the fashion world was treating him. Instead, I’m off learning in real time and finding myself pretty well lost.”

“You’ll take in, and understand, more than you realize. It’s kind of crazy, but in a few days you’ll see you’ve picked up a ton of information.” He sat forward and poured two glasses of champagne from a prepared bar nestled between them and the opposite-facing seats. Passing her one, he held his up in toast. “To you, for keeping the vultures at bay with your demure smile, open honesty and the way you stunned in Marciano’s dress. Earthy tones, by the way. He caved.”

“Got it.” She sipped the smooth champagne slowly. She’d had several drinks at the gala, and she wanted to be in decent shape when they arrived at the next party. “So what am I in for next?”

He smiled and settled back again. “Sex. Drugs. More sex.”

“Sounds wonderful, excluding the drugs.”

Ian nodded, stretching his long legs out in front of him. In a sharp contrast to the elegant tuxedo he’d worn the night she’d met him, tonight he had a rakish thing going on. He’d bucked the traditional tux and dressed in a burgundy silk shirt and dark charcoal slacks. She’d never been much for scarves, but he’d pulled off the multishaded gray one draped around his neck without a hitch. The only thing she couldn’t imagine him in was a burned-out pair of jeans and hay-scented flannel, though she had a funny feeling he’d look good in those as well.

“Whatever you want.” He pointed toward the front of the limo. “Cain is up there. He’s been with us all night. Nothing happens while Cain is on duty. This is your opportunity to let go and experience the world any way you want. If I’m not at your side, he will be.”

The limo sliced through the city, turning past ancient-looking buildings that definitely had a romance-of-the-ages thing about them. She felt like she was literally in another world, and she settled into her seat. Everything about Milan was fascinating and different. The waterways cutting through different sections of the city were amazing, and she wished the weather were warmer so she could convince Ian to take her for a tour. “So is Cain an actual bodyguard?”

A dark cloud drifted over Ian’s eyes before he shook it away. “Old money comes with its drawbacks. Cain keeps me safe when I don’t feel like watching out for what’s around me. He’s a great friend as well.”

She didn’t know what to make of that answer, but asking for more information seemed rude. Instead, she returned her attention to their surroundings. They passed a huge church, and she turned to take in the massive, marble-paneled structure. It was imposingly beautiful, lit up to blazing so it couldn’t be missed. “What’s that?”

“The Milan Cathedral,” he answered. “Duomo di Milano. It’s amazing. You can almost feel the ghosts of history whispering in your ear, even if you don’t believe in them. I’ll take you to see it if I can find some time in our busy schedule.”

“Don’t worry about me. You’re here for work.” She shot him a smile, hoping he understood that she felt this trip was all about him, his work and what he needed to do. Seeing the amazing city from a car window was enough for her. “I’m here by pure luck. I’ll take what I can get.”

When she went back to watching the scenery, Ian swallowed hard. She was amazing. He was used to pampered, spoiled bitches and dickhead upstarts whose only concerns were getting in good with Ian Malcolm and using his golden-ticket status to seal their entrance into the fashion world. Elizabeth’s reactions were a stark contrast. She was soft and accommodating, staring wide-eyed at the incredible history around them. Her enjoyment of Milan woke his own passion for the city, and he found himself launching into a tourism monologue that would have put any guide to shame. As stupid as he knew he must sound, he couldn’t stop.

She showed no signs of disinterest though. Actually, quite the opposite. She sat forward and pointed like a two-year-old, her excitement and cute little
what’s that?
queries making him want her more every minute. When the limo pulled to a slow stop, he cursed. He didn’t want their moment to end.

She turned to look at him. “Where are we?”

Ian gritted his teeth. Elizabeth was an interesting mix of innocent and sexy. All he wanted was to take her away from Milan’s erotic underworld of sex and drugs and show her its beauty. In sharp contrast, he wanted to see her in his element. He wanted to see her eyes light with interest by what she was going to witness in their darker, freer side of Fashion Week.