by Karen Booth
Ivy was envious of Katie. The other woman had clearly been confident before meeting Quin. From what Ivy had picked up, Katie had been running Farrell’s R & D department back in Portland for several years. Now, though, Katie glowed with the certainty of a woman who knew she was well loved.
“Okay,” Ivy said. “We’ve picked out Friday’s wardrobe, but how about the rest? I never knew there would be so many opportunities to change.”
Katie turned back to the closet. “This top and pants for Saturday morning. More outdoor stuff for the afternoon, and the deep blue dress for Saturday evening.”
Soon, between the two of them, they had Ivy’s closet organized in the order she would need things. Despite a certain level of apprehension, Ivy was looking forward to wearing such gorgeous clothes.
When the task was done, they went in search of Quin. They found him in the kitchen letting Dolly pull every pot and pan and lid out of the bottom cabinets. Both women gaped at the mess.
Katie put her hands on her hips. “Quinten Stone. Your brother has a houseful of important company on the way in the morning. What were you thinking?”
Quin’s grin was sunny as he kept one hand on Dolly’s waist to keep her from tumbling into the open cabinet. “She wanted to. What can I say? I’m putty in her hands.”
Ivy was more amused than Quin’s wife. “She has that effect on me, too. Don’t worry about it. I’ll clean it up later.” Quin was quickly becoming one of her favorite people. His mischief and charming sense of humor made him a delight to be around. Unlike his solemn brother.
Katie squatted. “We’ll do it now. Sorry, Dolly. This is a big weekend. We all have to be on our best behavior.”
Ivy spotted the legal pad on the counter. Something on the housing list made her frown. “Why am I penciled in for the rose room? It’s the nicest suite in the house. Oceanfront. King bed. That should go to one of our guests. I can sleep anywhere.”
Katie and Quin exchanged a glance. Katie took the notepad from Ivy and glanced at it. “We’re only using six of the eight upstairs bedrooms. Quin wanted you to be comfortable. He excluded the room with the twin beds at the back of the house and the bedroom with the smallest bathroom. The other guests are well taken care of, I promise.”
Quin leaned against the fridge, letting Dolly play her favorite pull-the-hair game. “It’s Farrell’s house, Ivy. He calls the shots.”
“But it doesn’t make sense.”
Again, the duo gave each other a look. It was Quin who spoke up. “My brother likes and appreciates you, Ivy. This is something he wanted to do. If I were you, I wouldn’t make a big deal about it.”
Ivy wasn’t convinced. “Okay,” she said slowly. She took Dolly from him. “The two of you should go. I’ve kept you too long. What time will you be back for dinner?”
Katie leaned her head on Quin’s shoulder. “Actually, my husband is cooking me a romantic dinner for two tonight. You and Farrell will be on your own.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Ivy took Dolly to the porch. They waved as Quin and Katie climbed into their car and disappeared down the road. Now Ivy’s last line of defense was gone and wouldn’t be back until tomorrow.
Her stomach fluttered as she debated her options. Surely she and Farrell needed to clear the air before the house party. But how?
Holding the baby on one hip, she extracted her cell phone from her pocket and sent a text to her boss.
What time would you like me to have dinner ready tonight?
There. That was simple and straightforward enough. No hidden agenda. Farrell didn’t reply to her text for twenty minutes. When he did, the note was not reassuring.
I’ll make myself a sandwich. Work is going well. I don’t want to interrupt the flow. Why don’t you and Dolly enjoy the evening?
Ivy frowned at the message, trying to read between the lines. The man was avoiding her. There was no other explanation.
This didn’t bode well for the upcoming weekend, but short of dragging Farrell out of his lab and forcing a confrontation, she was out of options.
The impasse brought up something she had been thinking about recently. She and Dolly needed reliable transportation. Nothing fancy. If Katie and Quin would help her locate a used vehicle, Ivy had enough for a tiny down payment and regular payments.
Impulsively, she sent Katie a text to that effect. Then, because she felt guilty for interrupting their afternoon, she added a second note.
No rush on the car thing. We can talk about it later.
Katie sent a brief, cheerful response.
Afterward, Ivy was somewhat at a loss. The house was spotless. The boss didn’t want dinner. Ivy might as well relax and play with Dolly…and later tonight, do her homework regarding the weekend guests.
Because she didn’t want to risk the chance of running into Farrell again later—and because her stomach was growling—she popped Dolly into her high chair, pulled out a large wicker basket and began loading it with a few things. She would eat the leftovers from lunch as soon as she got back to the cabin. As for dinner, cheese and crackers and fruit would do.
When she had everything she needed, she managed to scoop up both the basket and her daughter. By the time she made it to the cabin, she was panting, not because it was a long way, but because a basket and a growing baby were an awkward handful.
She paused before unlocking the door to glance over into the woods. It was possible to see the roof of Farrell’s lab through the trees. What would he say if she simply showed up on his doorstep?
She didn’t have the guts to find out.
Having a chunk of the afternoon and all of the evening to herself should have been a lovely surprise, and it was. Still, the remainder of the day dragged. Babies were wonderful miracles, but any conversation with Dolly was one-sided at best.
Because Dolly had only managed a single nap today and not two, Ivy was able to put her daughter down by seven thirty. The poor thing was half-asleep while Ivy dressed her in one-piece pajamas and read her a book.
When Dolly was completely out, Ivy showered and washed and dried her hair. The T-shirt and knit pants she put on dated back to college days. After watching a movie that failed to keep her attention, she was just about to head for bed when she heard a soft knock at her front door. Unless the nearest bear family had developed human skills, her visitor had to be Farrell.
Her heart pounded. She could ignore the knock. The front of the house was dark. He would think she was asleep.
Sadly, no force in the world could halt her footsteps. No matter the cost, she wanted to see him.
When she swung open the door, his face was in shadows.
“May I come in?” he asked.
She hesitated, still trying to be smart. “Of course.”
He followed her inside and waited while she turned on a couple of lamps. The room glowed intimately. When she turned around to face him, he took her wrist, reeled her in and buried his face in her shoulder with a moan. “God, Ivy. I’m sorry.”
She stroked his hair, her eyes stinging. His torment was palpable. “It’s okay.”
He reared back. “It’s not okay. I slept with you and disappeared.” His indignation might have made her smile at another time. Not now.
“And why was that?” she asked gently, already knowing the answer. So she said it for him. “You felt as if you had cheated on your wife. I’m guessing that’s been the case every time you’ve been intimate with a woman for the last seven years.”
He ran his hands through his hair and paced. “That was true at one time. Not anymore. Or if it is, it’s subconscious.” His jaw worked. “I didn’t leave your bed Wednesday morning because of Sasha.”
“Then why, Farrell? And why were you acting so weird today when you and Quin and Katie arrived?”
He dropped into a chair, then leaned forward to stare at the floor. W
hen he finally looked up at her, the expression on his face told her that whatever tiny fantasies she had been weaving were dead in the water. Hopeless.
Shaking his head slowly, he drummed his fists on his knees. “I left because waking up beside you seemed natural. Good. But I can’t do that, Ivy. I can’t.”
“Can’t wake up with me?” She frowned. “I’m not sure I follow.”
He rose to his feet again, shoved his hands in his pockets and stared at her, his posture rigid. “I can’t care about you, Ivy. I won’t. Not in that way. So for me to have sex with you is obscene.”
She managed a smile though her heart was breaking. “It didn’t seem obscene.”
“This isn’t funny.” His tone was grim. “Losing Sasha nearly broke me. I swore I would never let myself care deeply about a woman again. I’ve lost my wife, my father and nearly Quin. I don’t want to go through that kind of pain anymore. You and I have some kind of connection. I can’t deny it, but I don’t want it. And I certainly don’t want to hurt you.”
“But?”
“But I can’t stop wanting you. It’s eating me alive. What am I going to do about that?”
Did he really expect her to answer such a question? “It was just sex,” she muttered.
He cocked his head, his gaze telling her he saw through the lie. “No. It wasn’t. I’m guessing you wanted to know if you were still a sexually desirable woman. Or maybe you wanted to know if you had sexual feelings. I think we both found out the answer to that one.”
“And you?” she whispered. Her hands gripped the back of a chair to keep from crumbling. “If it wasn’t just sex, what was it for you?”
“I needed you,” he said, the words flat. “Desperately, in fact. I hadn’t been with a woman in almost a year. With my father’s death and Quin’s injuries, and then all the trouble at work, I had isolated myself emotionally. Told myself I could handle anything. But it wasn’t true. You came along, and I began to want more. I wanted a connection.”
“And yet you were deadly honest when you told me you didn’t want to want me.”
“I know.” His gaze was bleak. “I’m screwed, aren’t I? You should run far and fast.”
Ivy shook all over. Her skin was icy. This moment mattered. Not only for Ivy, but for Farrell. How they went forward from here would send ripples into his future and hers.
“Here’s the thing,” she said, trying to sound reasonable and calm. “I’ve been through a bad time, but I’m good now. Or at least I’m headed in the right direction. Maybe one day I’ll meet a guy who wants what I want, but clearly, that’s not you. I need this job until I’ve saved enough money to move on somewhere else. You’re so worried about using me or hurting me, but I know what I want. I’m capable of no-strings sex.”
“I seriously doubt that.”
He stared at her so long and so hard, she shifted positions restlessly.
“I am,” she said. “I told you before. I’m no delicate, innocent flower. I’ve dealt with the good and the bad in my life, and I can tell you this—sex with Farrell Stone is good. But I respect your boundaries. You don’t have to worry about me. I spent a decade married to a man who didn’t love me. I have too much self-respect to repeat that pattern.”
“You should have been a lawyer,” he said, the grumbled words laced with resignation. “I’m not sure where I stand in this argument.”
She held out her hand. “I forgive you for running away.”
His lips twitched for real this time. “I did not run. It was more of a strategic relocation.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” She withdrew her hand when he made no move to touch her. This sex-without-caring thing was going to be tough. “I can’t compete with your sweet Sasha, Farrell. And I would never try. What is it that you want?”
He cursed, a tortured syllable echoing the corded muscles in his arms and the tension in his frame. “You know what I want.”
“Yet you’re still over there, and I’m over here. I don’t need you to care about me, Farrell. I don’t expect you to. All I’m asking for is a job and your sexy body. Fair enough?”
Slowly, he approached her. “When I first met you, I thought you were meek and mild. That’s not true at all, is it?”
“I don’t know. You tell me.” She wet her finger with her tongue and traced his lips. “Does this feel mild?”
He scooped her up in his arms. “I don’t know if I can handle a firecracker like you, Ivy Danby.”
“Do your best, big guy.”
* * *
Farrell had lost control of the situation the moment he knocked on Ivy’s door. This little cabin had drawn him like a homing beacon. He’d been incapable of staying away. Though he had tried. God knew, he had tried. For the past two hours, he had dug through a box of Sasha’s things, items he hadn’t been able to get rid of for fear he might lose the last strand that bound him to his dead wife. Though her scent lingered in a treasured scarf, Farrell couldn’t fully summon her image.
After seven years, Sasha was really gone.
Truthfully, Farrell had known and accepted that ages ago. What he hadn’t come to terms with was being alone. As a deliberate choice. Because he didn’t want to lose anyone else.
He carried Ivy carefully, set her on the bed gently. Inside, he was a raging mass of confusion and lust. A man in his condition shouldn’t be allowed to make decisions.
The overhead light was off. A single lamp burned on the nightstand. Ivy’s eyes were huge, rounded with a combination of apprehension and drowsy anticipation. The thin T-shirt she wore clung to her breasts, drew attention to her puckered nipples. The knit sleep pants outlined slender, toned thighs. A curvy ass. A narrow waist.
Maybe he should say something. The words wouldn’t form. How did he explain something to Ivy that he hadn’t come to terms with himself?
With jerky motions, he stripped off his clothes and rescued a strip of condoms from his pocket. He wasn’t positive, but he thought Ivy blushed when she saw the condoms.
It was good that she was quiet. Earlier, that sexy, husky voice of hers had wrapped around him like warm molasses, making it hard to think.
“Scoot over, Ivy.”
The bed was a queen, not a king. That was his fault. But then again, he hadn’t been planning to sleep here when he furnished the place.
Under the covers, Ivy put a hand on his thigh. “Farrell?”
Her fingertips were almost touching his sex. Was that intentional? Was she trying to drive him berserk? “Yeah?”
“Before we start, could I ask you a question?”
He closed his eyes and willed his heart rate to slow. It wasn’t working. “Sure,” he croaked.
Ivy curled on her side, facing him. “Katie said you wanted me to have the beautiful oceanfront room on the second floor. I appreciate the thought, but I’d rather take that small bedroom on the back side of the house and let one of your guests have the suite with the view.”
“You’ll be working hard this weekend, and I—”
She put a hand over his mouth, stilling the words. Her smile made him dizzy. “Pay attention, Farrell. I’m asking if I can sleep with you at night. If you’re concerned about appearances, I’m happy to put my things in a guest room, but I was hoping you and I could…” She trailed off, perhaps because he hadn’t said a word.
His brain froze, analyzing her request. Trying to subdue his strong reaction. His very positive reaction. “Sure,” he said. “That would be fine.”
Ivy blinked. Her gaze narrowed. “Fine? Well, never mind, then. It’s too much trouble for fine.” The pique in her voice was justified.
Farrell put his hand over hers. Over the small feminine hand resting on his thigh. “Touch me,” he begged, pulling her arm to rest across his taut abdomen. “Hell, yes, I want you to stay in my room during the weekend. But right now, all I want i
s you.”
The little gasp when he curled her fingers around his erection was Ivy’s. Or his. Maybe both. He wasn’t sure.
She must have finally recognized his utter desperation. Sliding down in the bed, she rested her cheek on his chest and sighed. “You have the most gorgeous body, Mr. Stone. I love how it’s so different from mine.”
And then she proceeded to touch every erogenous zone that sent his masculine libido into a frenzied state of high alert.
He wanted to complain when she abandoned his shaft, but having Ivy start at his ankles and stroke her way upward was its own kind of reward. After that, she skipped the high-dollar real estate and kissed his belly, his rib cage, his neck, his chin.
Then she settled on top of him, took his cheeks between her hands and kissed his mouth.
He shook like he had a fever. His hands grasped her butt, fingers digging into her soft, firm flesh. Ivy’s tongue trespassed between his lips, stroking, turning him inside out.
Every inch of her touched every inch of him. She was draped over him like the perfect, sexy blanket.
But he wanted more. He needed more, or he might spontaneously combust. “Ivy,” he whispered. “Can I have you now? Please?”
She pulled back and smiled, a cat-and-canary kind of smile that lit up her face and would have made him laugh if he hadn’t been rigid with hunger. “Of course, Farrell,” she said. “What are you waiting for?”
With graceless speed, he shoved her aside and reached for the protection. Moments later, he took about one-point-five seconds to decide. “On top,” he grunted. “Hurry.”
“Yes, sir.”
It probably would have been less painful if Ivy hadn’t helped. Her knee jabbed his hip; her foot nearly kicked his balls. At last, they were aligned as perfectly as planets in an orbital plane.
“Look at me,” he said urgently.
Almost shyly, her gaze met his. “I’m looking.”
His throat was tight. “I don’t want you to have regrets,” he muttered. It was the truest thing he had said. The words burst forth from some fount of wisdom deep inside him.