Honey Red (16 page)

“I want Hannah to read to me. I want Hannah to live here all the time. Hannah!” The kid yelped, making Ian wince.

Hannah spoke behind him. “Remember Jamie, no need to yell. You get more attention from people if you use a calm voice.” Her voice did anything but make Ian calm. He fumbled around, pulled Jamie’s pj’s on him and mumbled something about walking the dog as he pushed past her, handing over the boy who wanted her so badly.

“Daddy! Did we get a dog?” Jamie’s voice echoed in his ears as he made his way to the kitchen, berating himself for inviting her over. He obviously had no self-control whatsoever. Nick still haunted his every dream. Visions of the man’s incredible form and handsome face covered with Ray-bans, him yelling incoherently and beating on Ian’s face, his pale body on the gurney while the EMT’s tried to revive him—it was all a long, lusty nightmare Ian truly wished he could get past. Given that the two men were about to become brothers-in-law it seemed inevitable their paths would cross. But Ian had gotten the message loud and clear: Nick wanted no part of him ever again, and if he did Alyssa seemed poised to pounce and keep him away. The whole steaming pile of shit was maddening, and he only had the guy staring at him from the mirror to blame.

But Hannah, with her smartass sense of humor, quick mind, gorgeous hair and pert figure, she was here, now, with him. He sensed that he had reverted to flirt mode, acknowledged his desire to seduce and keep her here tonight, away from whatever lame date she had. He placed his hands on the counter, counting backwards from twenty. It helped. Then he spent some time lining up the beer bottles, organizing them into taste categories and noting he’d picked some pretty heavy-duty Belgians and several Imperials and double alcohol brews. It didn’t matter. They would just be tasting he justified as he poured some pretzels in a bowl and found a bunch of disposable clear plastic cups.

By the time she wandered back into the large kitchen, tucking her hair up into a messy bun on top of her head, he felt like he had a grip. He popped open a couple of classic India Pale Ales. “Okay. Sit. Taste and learn.”

“You got it, Sensei,” she said, pulling out a notebook and pen.

He held up the cup, stared at it, then launched into his “hop forward” speech while she sipped and took notes. After an hour they’d worked their way through the IPAs and were on to malt forward beers, like amber ales and their own Ypsi Brewing California Common. The more he drank the more he wanted her. He had to grip his knees under the table to keep from reaching across the small distance between them and running his fingers down her neck, his thumb across her full lips as she tasted and kept writing in that stupid notebook.

“So,” he said, his voice cracking a little with tension. She looked up. A tendril of that tempting springy red hair dropped out of the holder and slipped across her face. He reached out, tucked it away. She narrowed her eyes and leaned back just enough to let him know his touch was not welcomed. “Right, sorry. So, let’s move on to these,” he pulled the three Belgian style beers he’d chosen closer trying to cover his embarrassment. “We don’t do Belgians at Ypsi nor do I plan to,” he paused, pondering his one-time dream of crafting nothing but sour, crazy, off-the-wall ales.

She put a hand on his, yanking him back to the present. He stared at her hand, then up at her. Her huge eyes were full of concern. “You okay? How’s Nick?”

“Oh, uh, he’s okay. I think.”

Hannah nodded, munched a pretzel, never taking her eyes from his. He shifted, as his skin and nerves started to react involuntarily to her uncomfortable proximity. “I have to wonder how it will work.”

“How what will work,” he poured them each a healthy sample of Le Fin Du Monde, one of the finest examples of a Belgian “triple” known to man. The cloudy yellow liquid was rich, layered, and amazing. He drank it way too fast considering it was nine percent alcohol. Nervousness had the best of him, and that was annoying in the extreme. “You mean Gavin and Alyssa? Well, if they don’t kill each other, I think they’ll make a fine couple.”

“But how can they be together? She owns the company that distributes our brews in Michigan. Isn’t that some kind of a…I don’t know…insider trading kind of a thing? And with Nick and you…well, hell you guys are worse than a Lifetime movie. Whoops!” She nearly knocked over her glass of the beer and blushed. Ian stared at her.

She’s drunk and as nervous as I am.
He smiled, and leaned forward on his elbow, missing the table by a good two inches and smacking his chin on the hard wood surface. “Fuck!” he yelled, cupping his jaw while Hannah laughed so hard tears ran down her face.

Chapter Seventeen

Hannah’s heart pounded, her ears buzzed and her head spun. And while she knew damn good and well she could thank the beers she’d been drinking for the last nearly two hours, she also had to admit that being here, with Ian, having such a great time with him was turning her on, period. She had gone so long without a man’s touch she had gone beyond missing it. Kind of like when you reach that point in a diet where you don’t even really miss food anymore. Not a fun place to be nor healthy, but there it was.

Ian stood and stomped over to the freezer, grabbed a bag of frozen vegetables and put them under his chin. She pointed, snorted, and tried to stop laughing but it was too much. He was so incredible—talented, funny, great with his son, and sexier than any one man had a right to be. She had no business here. She stood, as a burst of anxiety nearly split her in half. Tingling in places she had forgotten existed but for their daily functionalities, she was terrified and horny in equal measure.

“I should go,” she said, looking around for her shoes. Her hair kept falling out of its tie back so she gave up and yanked the flimsy band out and let it tumble around her shoulders. When she stood up and looked at Ian, his mouth was literally hanging open. She grinned, slid her feet into her shoes and started for the kitchen door.

“Wait,” he croaked. “Hannah. Don’t go.”

She turned, slowly, knowing full well the affect she was having but unsure what to do about it. “I am not going to sleep with you, Ian Donovan.” Her throat ached with a combination of fear at what was about to happen and worry that it might not.

In a flash, he was in her personal space, the frozen food forgotten. His full lips were inches from hers. She gulped. He slid his hand up her arm, fisted his fingers in her hair. He smelled boozy but she knew she did too. “I’m not sleepy,” he whispered. The room did a slightly nauseating one-eighty when his lips met hers. She stood, frozen, let him part her lips with his tongue, but she couldn’t seem to move her arms. Her body would not cooperate and do the thing she knew she wanted to do—grab him, wrap herself around him. He broke away; his breath ragged and cradled her face in his large hands. “I don’t know what it is about you. I am prepared to screw up a great, friendly working relationship right now, just to feel your skin against mine. In fact, if that doesn’t happen in the next few minutes I may spontaneously combust.” He stepped away, hands on his hips, looking down at the floor.

She backed up, stumbling a little when her backside met the counter top. She could sense her nipples pressing the back of her bra. Her thighs trembled and the pulse between her legs matched her heartbeat. She bit her lip. “But…” she said, knowing that with this man, complications would be the name of the game. “Nick.” She said softly, understanding and figuring this for just one more close shot at something special she would miss.

He looked up at her, his gaze intense, then turned away. She walked around him and sat, raising the glass of Le Fin Du Monde. The end of the world indeed. “I applied for a marketing job with Ford.” She said between sips. “I have an interview next week.”

Ian dropped into the chair across from her and picked up his glass.  “Well, I remember you once yelling at me that the beer job was just a stop gap. That you wanted to be in…how did you put it? Oh, yeah, ‘grown up marketing’ someday.” He glowered at her. She matched his frown.

“Well, anyway, I have huge student loans, and it’s not like you guys are paying me the big bucks.”

“Good luck to you then hot shot,” he raised his glass and knocked back the liquid in one gulp.

He’s as nervous as I am; probably even drunker.

She sighed and put her glass down. “Tell me about Nick, Ian. You probably need to get your head around how you feel about him. Talk to me. I’m a good listener.”

He sighed and poured another small portion of the rich brew for them both. “There is nothing to talk about. Nick is…damaged, wounded, in more ways than one. And I have no business even considering anything about him.” She frowned, sipping and forcing herself not to get distracted by the way his jaw clenched when he talked or by her extreme need to kiss him there, to taste his skin just once. “He’s Alyssa’s brother. Did you know that?”

She nodded. Ian sighed. “Yeah, I guess everybody knows everything don’t they?”

She nodded again but stayed silent. “Well, he’s blind from a terrorist attack about ten days before he was slated to rotate back home from Iraq with his lover, Dan. Dan was among the Marines killed that day.” He put his elbows on the table hitting the mark this time. “Then about three months ago or so I went to his and Alyssa’s house for dinner. We, uh, ended up, you know.”

“Fucking
.” Yeah, I get it and the mental image I have of it is pretty hot.
Hannah put her hand to her lips, hoping she hadn’t actually said those words, and shocked to her very soul that she thought them.

He cleared his throat, his face reddening. She let him continue. “So, after that nothing really. No communication, not for my lack of trying mind you. And I ended up there again, the night Alyssa and Gavin got engaged and found out she was pregnant. Jesus H., what a daytime drama, huh? I can’t believe I’m telling you this.” He got up and paced. Hannah leaned back in her seat pulling one knee up to her chin, watched him move around the room with a casual grace, comfortable in his incredible skin yet agitated beyond belief. “Gavin and Alyssa left. And we went at it again, a couple of times. It was,” he stopped dead in his tracks and put his hands on the counter. They shook but his voice was without a tremble. “I may well love the man Hannah. He was…is…amazing on so many levels. He’s strong and vulnerable at the same time. Incredibly smart and mature, but naïve and trusting….I want to help him. But he lost it that night. Woke up in a weird dream state and started hitting me. I mean using the full force of his Marine trained self into beating the shit out of me in his sleep. When he came to or woke up or whatever, he had some kind of breakdown. I…I covered him up, tried to talk to him but he wouldn’t listen so I left him alone. When I woke up on the couch, his dog was having a conniption fit. And Nick had taken a bottle of painkillers and a fifth of bourbon into a full bathtub behind a locked door.” He turned and glared at her. “You heard enough yet, or should I go on?”

The room faded some, and Hannah got to her wobbly feet and put her arms around Ian’s waist, holding him tight. He was stiff at first, resisted her, but then he seemed to crumple and grabbed onto her for dear life. Their lips met, tongues tangled. She wanted him so badly she was willing to overlook a crucial piece of his emotional pie—that he was in love with someone else.

She leaned back as his lips found her neck, kissed there, then stopped him when he started to reach under her shirt to her bra clasp. “No, hang on. I need to tell you something too.”

He reached down and cupped her ass, held her against the unmistakable press of his erection. “Seriously, Ian,” she gasped when he reached up and grabbed her hair again, bringing a sharp edge of pain to the many sensations coursing through her.

“If you tell me you’re a virgin I won’t believe it.” He mumbled around her skin, licking, kissing, teasing her so much she thought she might orgasm without him even touching anywhere near her sex. Her hips angled as her core started a slow, inevitable meltdown, one she’d had no frame of reference for and that scared and thrilled her all at once.

“No, but I’m sort of, well,” she gripped his head, threading her fingers in his hair as he eased that hand back up her shirt and flicked open her bra with one practiced twist of his fingers. “Like a born again virgin. I mean, I haven’t had sex in so long I…oh Jesus,” she groaned when he leaned down to flick his tongue across her nipple. She didn’t even remember the shirt coming off. “ I am rusty at best. The guy I, um, well, I don’t even know if…shit…Ian…and if it’s possible for a hymen to grow back due to general disuse…ah, God…yes.” She hissed and shivered as her pulsing sex sought contact with something. His lips, teeth and tongue were all over her breasts and nipples. He shoved his thigh between her legs, grabbing onto the counter to steady them.