Everything trembled.
My heart and the air and the ground beneath my feet.
“What are you doing here?”
But I already knew, didn’t I? I already knew what I’d set into motion when I’d texted him in the middle of the night. Unable to sleep. Only able to think of him. Wanting something I shouldn’t take.
But some things were unstoppable. Impossible to resist when the temptation was too great. Right there, begging for me to dip my fingers in so I could take a taste.
He edged forward, that severity a bluster from his perfect body.
Today, he wore a full three-piece suit, dark gray and sleek and fitted. It showed off every inch of the strength that rippled below the expensive fabric.
Shoulders wide.
Waist narrow.
Tie around his neck and desire on his lips.
I could feel it.
Passion.
Lust.
Need.
It radiated from him with the force of a thousand suns.
The man edged closer. Each step that he took robbed me of a little more of my sanity.
Because this was truly crazy.
He stopped when there was only the fraction of a breath between us, his heat wrapping me whole, his words warmth where he dipped down to utter them close to my cheek.
“You told me in that text that you’ve never been a girl who was afraid to live her life. To step out and take a chance. And fuck, Grace, I’m standing here, right now, asking you to take a chance on me.”
Oh God.
Crack. Crack. Crack.
I could feel every reservation crumbling out from under me.
There was no missing the way his mouth tweaked into one of those arrogant smiles where it barely brushed my skin, the words so soft but laden with a demand. “Have dinner with me.”
Need spiraled. I inhaled, drawing him into the well of my lungs. Power and influence and dominance. Cinnamon and orange and sex boiling on a stove.
Fingertips fluttered along the side of my neck, trailing my pulse that throbbed out of control. “What could one dinner hurt?”
There was a tease to his tone, a tease to his question.
The man was so damned good at winding me up. Hooking me in all those places where I’d never be released.
I almost laughed.
“Oh, I think you could hurt, all right.” I edged back so I could look up at him. “Men like you should come with a warning.”
Cinnamon eyes flashed. Red and gold and black. He was cupping the side of my face in one of those big hands, his thumb running across the hollow beneath my eye. “I think it’s a woman like you who bears all the threat.”
“How’s that?”
“You’re so sweet that you don’t have the first clue just how dangerous you really are.”
The man managed to pull a giggle free. “I’m not all sweet.”
He quirked a sexy grin. “I don’t believe you.”
“I just might surprise you.”
He was back to whispering in my ear, his aura all around me. “Oh, you surprised me. You knocked me off my feet.”
I peeked up at him. “I think it was the other way around.”
Literally.
The man had knocked me on my ass. I hadn’t fully been able to stand on my feet ever since.
He took me by the chin, eyes searching, so close I was terrified he was going to dip down and kiss me right there. I was most definitely not ready for that. Especially out in the open.
Exposed.
Hell, this was as reckless as could be. Just standing there with him that way.
My gaze flicked around, searching the packed street for eyes that might be watching. But Reed had the kids today. Their days at his place tended to keep him preoccupied with keeping up that charade. The parody of a caring parent.
Ian must have sensed the shiver of unease that rustled through me because he put an inch between us. “Just dinner . . . then you can decide where we go from there.”
His voice shifted, dripping pure sex. “I hope you let me take you where I’m dying to go. Follow me, Angel Girl.”
I guessed he thought I was getting ready to say no because he pushed me back against the door to the salon, his big body pinning mine.
Heat ran wild.
“Please, Grace. Just dinner.”
I hesitated for only a second before I gave a nod. I was going to regret this, I knew I would. But the last thing I wanted right then was to go to my grandmother’s house and face the reminder of an unthinkable possibility.
The vacancy and emptiness echoing back.
“Just dinner.”
I think we both knew it was more than that when he wrapped an arm around my waist and tugged me close to his side.
Once again, my attention jumped around. I hated that Reed still held a thumb over me, but I had to be careful. Remember what was riding on the line. A line I needed to toe.
Ian Jacobs had me sliding off.
I turned my face into his neck to hide it.
The only thing I managed to do was breathe his aura in.
He began to lead me through the mob of people that hurried this way and that as they rushed home at the end of their day.
I think we both knew it then.
That this was different.
That this moment mattered.
We knew it because it felt like a start. As if we were standing at the beginning of something great. Which was impossible because this man didn’t know what I was up against.
Who I was or what meant the most to me.
Their little faces flashed through my mind. It stabbed me with guilt. Because I shouldn’t be seeking any pleasure until I knew their happiness was secure. Until I’d finished this fight.
Until I’d won.
With the thought, I peeked out again, darts of anxiety impaling my senses. A warning to be careful. To take heed.
Push.
Pull.
Push.
Pull.
I felt as if I was being yanked in every direction.
My heart propelling me forward, and my rational side attempting to reel me back in.
Being reckless wasn’t going to win me any points. But it wasn’t like going to dinner with a man was wrong. I was committing no crime, and I certainly wasn’t partaking in some kind of disloyalty.
All the betrayals had been perpetrated on me.
I guessed the real test would be if Ian wanted to fight alongside me when he knew.
If he’d be the one willing to take the chance on me.
The problem was, I had no idea when I should tell him or how he would react.
“Just dinner,” he whispered at the side of my head. As if he’d felt every single one of my insecurities crawl across my flesh.
“Just dinner,” I agreed.
I wondered if that was the moment Ian and I told our first lies.
Eleven
Ian
She leaned into me, and I pulled her closer.
I couldn’t help but wonder why it felt so right.
Why I wasn’t repulsed.
Why I didn’t want to push her away.
Why I wanted more.
Why I loved it when she snuggled deeper into my hold.
I didn’t do this.
Not ever.
Didn’t want it.
But right then, the only thing I could think was that I did. That this was a chance worth taking.
Just dinner.
What bullshit.
She and I both knew it. Because she was trembling in my arms, nerves wracking through her, like she was holding back a secret she wanted me to keep.
To hold.
It fucking terrified me that I might want to.
I knew something was up. No doubt there was shit going on with her that I couldn’t see.
I held her close as I led her through the droves of people who were flocking from their workplaces as evening began to settle on the city, the sky hewn in a dusky gray, streaked with pink.
Finally seeming to settle, she exhaled in some kind of relief and peered up at me. She was tall, but she still felt small where she was tucked against my side.
“So, where are you taking me for just dinner?”
A light chuckle rumbled out. “I figured since I need to make a good impression, I’ll have to take you to my favorite restaurant.”
At the intersection, cars stopped at the red light, and I quickly guided her across the street toward the glitzy building that housed Eve’s on the top floor.
She almost rolled her eyes, but there was still something playful about it. “Of course, this is where you would take me. Only a boy born with a silver spoon in his mouth would have a taste for a place like this.”