The One He's Been Looking For

by Joanna Sims

  “Sometimes I think it would be fun to be an only child.”

  He shook his head. “No. It’s better your way. Trust me. Now that Mom and Dad are both gone, it’s just me and a sad little Cornish hen on Thanksgiving.”

  “You lost both of your parents? I’m so sorry. How long ago?”

  “Dad had a heart attack when I was in high school—he went in for open-heart surgery, but he never recovered. He chain-smoked unfiltered cigarettes for years and it just wrecked his arteries. I lost my mom to breast cancer a little over a year ago.”

  Ian hadn’t spoken to anyone about his mother since she died—not even his shrink. But speaking to Jordan about her felt right. He pulled out his wallet and showed Jordan a picture of his parents on their wedding day.

  “Wow, your mom was a knockout. Your dad was really handsome, too—you look just like him.”

  “That’s what my mom always said.” Ian nodded as he put his wallet away.

  “How’d they meet?”

  “My mom was Danish, but she was living in Paris because she had landed a gig with Chanel—which was a coup for a model even back then. My father was stationed in France—he was a master sergeant in the army. I’m not exactly sure how he managed to wind up at the Chanel show—I think he was dating an assistant in one of the fashion houses—but either way, it was love at first sight when my father saw Mom walking down the runway. He ditched his date and waited outside the venue for nearly two hours until she came out. And the rest, as they say, is history. Of course,” Ian said with a reminiscent smile, “Mom always claimed that it took her many more ‘sightings’ for her to fall for my dad.”

  “You have a great story to share with your kids one day,” Jordan said. “I am really sorry that you lost both of them, though. I lost my brother Daniel about two years ago. He was a U.S. Army Ranger, and died in Iraq. I really miss him. We all really miss him. But I think my mom misses him the most.”

  “Maybe that’s why she’s so protective of you,” Ian said thoughtfully.

  “Could be. Makes sense.” Jordan flipped through her phone and found a picture of her entire family. “Here’s my twin sister, Josephine. That’s my eldest brother, Luke—he’s a captain in the U.S. Marines. That’s Daniel before he died. And there’s Mom, Dad and my middle brother, Tyler.”

  After Ian looked at the picture, Jordan locked her phone, slipped it into her pocket and then yawned loudly. She stretched her arms above her head. The excitement of the day had taken its toll and she suddenly felt exhausted.

  “I’m really beat.” She slunk down farther on the couch.

  “Why don’t lie down and get some rest?” Ian asked.

  “You wouldn’t mind?”

  “No. I wouldn’t mind.” He stood and opened the cabinet above the couch, pulling out a pillow and blanket.

  “Thank you.” Jordan fluffed her pillow and covered herself with the blanket.

  “You’re welcome.” Ian opened his laptop again and slipped on his reading glasses. “Get some rest. We have a busy couple days ahead of us.”

  She pulled the blanket up under her chin, but didn’t immediately close her eyes. She stared at him while he started to sort through his emails.

  “Ian?”

  “Hmm?”

  “I actually think you’re a pretty good egg.”

  “Thank you, Jordan.” He looked up from his laptop and glanced over at her. “I like you, too.”

  * * *

  “Welcome back to the Avila Hotel, Mr. Sterling.” The gentleman at the front desk seemed genuinely pleased to see Ian again.

  “Thank you, Pedro. It’s good to be back. Anyone else from the crew arrive early?”

  “No, sir. Not yet. But a block of rooms have been set aside in the octagon wing, and of course, the Bolivar suite has been prepared for your pleasure, sir.”

  Ian checked them in and then rode up in the elevator with Jordan. When they reached her floor, he straddled the elevator threshold so the door wouldn’t close.

  “I have some things I have to do to get ready for the shoot tomorrow. You’ll be okay?”

  “Sure,” she said. “I’m gonna get cleaned up, get settled in and order room service.” She put her hand on her stomach. “I’m starved.”

  Ian seemed hesitant to leave her, but he eventually stepped back into the elevator as Jordan headed down the hall toward her room. Once inside, she left her bag near the door and immediately went on a hunt for the room service menu. She scanned the menu quickly before she picked up the phone and dialed.

  “Yes. I’d like an order of lobster bisque, the grilled black tiger shrimp and a salad. Do you have oil and vinegar?” Jordan asked. “Great. Water’s fine, with lemon, please. Thank you.”

  After she hung up the phone, she lifted her suitcase onto the bed nearest the balcony. During the limo ride to the hotel, Ian had told her that her roommate would arrive the next day. So for tonight, she had every intention of sprawling out and enjoying the room. And the next item on her agenda was to take a long, hot bath. She ran the bathwater, and after the tub was filled halfway, tested the temperature.

  “Perfect,” she said, stripping off her clothes and stepping into the tub. She immersed herself in the steamy water, closed her eyes and sighed with pleasure as the heat soothed her tired muscles. She wasn’t certain how long she stayed in the tub, but by the time she heard a knock at the door, the water was tepid and her fingers were wrinkled like the skin of a raisin.

  “Oh, crap!” Jordan sat up quickly, sending the water sloshing onto the floor. “Hold on!” she yelled as she slipped on the plush hotel robe. “I’m coming!”

  Still damp beneath the terry robe, she quickly devoured her dinner and gulped down the water. After she popped the last bite in her mouth, Jordan grimaced as she put down her fork. Way too full, she flopped backward onto the bed and spread out her arms. Now she was completely stuffed and completely bored.

  “Your first night in Curaçao and you’re staring at a ceiling. Alone. Very sad.”

  She turned her head and looked at the hotel phone. The only person she knew in Curaçao was Ian.

  Should I call the penthouse suite and see what he’s doing?

  “No,” Jordan answered aloud. “Don’t be desperate.”

  The calypso music drifting up from downstairs caught her attention. She walked over to the sliding doors, pulled them open and stepped out onto the small balcony. It overlooked a beachside bar area and one of the adjacent private hotel beaches. The air was warm, but the breeze blowing in from the ocean cooled the skin of her face as she closed her eyes and let her ears tune in to the sound of the waves, barely audible over the rhythmic music.

  After a moment, Jordan opened her eyes and leaned over the railing so she could get a better look at the schooner bar. The scene looked like one of those vacation commercials where people were laughing and dancing and drinking and having the best time of their lives. Jordan wanted to be in that commercial.

  Back inside the room now, she quickly shrugged out of the robe and into a minidress with spaghetti straps and a skirt that swirled around her bare legs as she walked. She slicked her hair straight back off her face, added a touch of makeup and then used the entire bottle of gardenia lotion on her arms and freshly shaved legs. As a final touch, she slipped into a pair of strappy sandals before she inspected her reflection in a full-length mirror. She twisted to the left and then to the right.

  “Not bad for jet lag, Jordy.” She smiled at her reflection.

  Jordan tucked her room key and ID into a small side pocket of her dress before she headed down to the bar. She smiled faintly at people as she drifted through the crowd and found her way to a stool near the crowded dance floor so she could have a good view of the band. She ordered a virgin piña colada, and when it arrived, she spun around so her back was to the ba
r.

  Heaven.

  Jordan closed her eyes and enjoyed the sexy beat of the drums and the balmy night air as it skated over her body. One hour in Curaçao and she already felt the tension slipping out of her neck and shoulders. She was having a blast in paradise, and the only thing that would make it better would be having someone to share it with.

  “I’m not sure which is more beautiful...Curaçao or you.”

  She cringed inwardly as a male voice interrupted her blissful moment. Jordan cautiously opened her eyes and looked in the direction of the speaker. The man standing next to her was good-looking enough, with spiky brown hair and a smile that had been bleached a bright white. His cologne was too sweet, his breath too laced with liquor and his attempt to flatter her had only served to irritate her. Jordan refused his offer to buy her a drink and was grateful that he wasn’t too drunk to take a hint and move on to greener pastures. Alone again, she tried to return to the wonderful Zen zone she had created before she was rudely interrupted, and silently prayed that he wasn’t going to be the first in a long line of guys trolling for a one-night stand.

  Just as Jordan slipped back into her Zen sweet spot, she heard another male voice beside her. But this time, her ears instantly tuned in to that silky deep baritone that could belong only to her Ian Sterling.

  Chapter Seven

  “It’s hard to enjoy the view with your eyes closed,” he said with a smile in his voice.

  Jordan immediately opened her eyes and found Ian, still dressed in his suit and tie, leaning against the bar next to her. That oh-so-familiar shot of adrenaline raced through her system when she looked up into that handsome face of his.

  “Hi!” She greeted him warmly with a wide smile. “You’re still in your suit. You do realize that we’re in a tropical paradise, right?”

  When the bartender approached, Ian ordered water for himself and then asked her, “Do you need a refill?”

  Jordan looked down at her nearly empty glass. She had polished off that drink without even thinking about it. “Virgin piña colada. Frozen, please.”

  After he placed the order, Ian turned back to her. “To answer your question, yes, I’m aware that we’re in paradise. But I still have work to do.”

  Jordan scrunched up her face. “Don’t remind me. I’m freaking out about the photo shoot tomorrow.”

  “Don’t psych yourself out. I already know that you’re going to be great. Trust me, I’ve been in this business long enough to be able to spot raw talent.”

  “I’ll try to relax about it,” she promised. “Of course, this place makes it a whole lot easier. It’s really beautiful here.”

  “This is one of my favorite places in the Caribbean,” Ian agreed as he surveyed the moonlit waves.

  “So,” Jordan said. “Are you done for the night?”

  He brought his eyes back to her. “Yes. I just finished meeting with hotel management. I wanted to make sure we would have full access to the grounds.”

  “I suppose that’s a valid reason to still be walking around looking like a tax attorney.”

  Ian glanced down at his suit. “I think I look pretty slick in this suit.”

  “But of course you do.”

  “And I happen to think that you look beautiful in that dress.” He smiled appreciatively at her.

  “Thank you.” Jordan grinned up at him, glad she had chosen the dress over jeans. “And it’s good that you’re done, because I could use the company. It’s my first night in Curaçao and it would be a total bummer to spend it alone.”

  The bartender brought their drinks. Ian held out his glass to her for a toast. “Here’s to a successful shoot.”

  While Jordan watched the dancers as she enjoyed her drink, Ian watched her. After his meeting with hotel management, he had decided to re-familiarize himself with the grounds and scope out some possible locations for the photo shoots. When he ventured down to the bar, he’d had no intention of staying. But then he had spotted Jordan. He had seen her and had stopped in his tracks. Part of him wanted to pretend that he hadn’t noticed her and just go back to his room. But the other part of him wanted to make a beeline to her side, and that was the part that won. After watching Jordan reject one of the bar flies buzzing around her, Ian had taken his opportunity to fill the void at her side.

  Jordan felt Ian’s eyes on her so she looked over at him. “What?”

  He didn’t hesitate to respond. “I really do like you, Jordan.”

  “I like you too, Ian.” Her reply was quick and sincere.

  There was something about this moment, something about the way Ian was looking at her, that made her feel like taking a chance—taking a risk.

  “Ian?”

  “Hmm?”

  “If I tell you something, will you promise that you won’t laugh?”

  “I promise,” he said easily.

  Jordan examined him skeptically. “I don’t know. That sounded more like a politician’s promise than an actual promise. Were you a Boy Scout?”

  “I was a Boy Scout, actually.”

  “Then swear on your honor as a Scout.” She jabbed her finger in his direction.

  “I got kicked out of the pack.” Ian grinned at her.

  “Really? You must’ve done something pretty bad....”

  “Not my finest hour,” he admitted with a faint smile. “But I did belong to the Webelos, if that helps.”

  “What’s a Webelo?”

  Ian laughed. “Webelos. We be loyal Scouts.”

  “Are you in good standing with them?”

  “As far as I know.”

  “Then swear on your honor as a Webelo that you won’t laugh.”

  Ian held up three fingers of his right hand in a Boy Scout salute. “I swear.”

  Jordan eyeballed him contemplatively before she shrugged one shoulder. “Okay. I’ll tell you. But only because you swore on your honor as a Webelo...and what’s a little personal humiliation between friends, right? So—here goes.” She took in a deep breath and then blew it out. “I used to have a huge crush on you.”

  “Used to? We just met. How could I have killed a crush that quickly?”

  It took her a minute to catch his point. “No.” Jordan shook her head. “I don’t have a crush on you now. I mean that I had a crush on you when I was in high school.”

  “Did we...know each other when you were in high school?” Ian asked her slowly, as if he was talking to an escapee from the loony bin.

  “You don’t have to look at me like that. I’m not certifiable. No, you didn’t know me back in high school. But I knew you,” she said. “Sort of.”

  “Meaning?”

  “I had your Armani ad hanging on my wall.” Jordan smiled sheepishly. “Framed.”

  “My Armani ad...?” Ian looked confused for a minute as he tried to figure out what she was talking about. Then he nodded. “Oh. You mean from my modeling days.”

  “Of course. What else?” Jordan looked at him curiously. She felt understandably embarrassed, but Ian was acting embarrassed.

  “Wait a minute.” She reached out and touched his sleeve. “I was supposed to be the one embarrassed. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. Did I embarrass you? Or am I reading you wrong?”

  Ian shifted uncomfortably. “No. You’re not reading me wrong. I don’t really like to talk about my modeling days.”

  “What? Why not? You were great at it!”

  “I don’t know how great I was at it,” he said. “It was something I did so I could save up money to go to the Brooks Institute. Once I saved up enough money, I quit modeling and worked full-time on my bachelor’s and then my master’s in commercial photography.”

  “I get that. But why don’t you like to talk about it? I would think that your past modeling experience would help
you work with models now.”

  “It does. But because I’d been a model, it was a long time before the industry took me seriously as a photographer.” Ian sipped his water. “I’ve always felt uncomfortable being the one in front of the camera. I’m much more at home behind it.”

  Jordan toyed with her straw. “It would never occur to me that someone who looks like you could feel uncomfortable in front of the camera.”

  He leaned against the bar and tucked one hand in his pocket. “I haven’t always looked like this.”

  “You aren’t going to tell me that you were an ugly duckling when you were a kid, are you?”

  “Actually...I was,” he said seriously. “In fact, I’ll share something embarrassing from my childhood with you, so we’re even. How’s that?”

  “I’m all ears.” Jordan put her glass on the bar.

  “When I was in middle school, I had buck teeth, acne....” Ian began to count out his adolescent flaws on his fingers. “I was shorter than all the girls in my class and I was overweight. My mom called it husky.”

  “I don’t believe it.”

  “I’m telling you—it’s the truth. And I remember the pinnacle of my middle school humiliation was when I asked five—” he held up his hand “—count them—five girls from my class to the seventh grade dance and not one of them accepted. I ended up staying home with my mom and renting a movie.”

  “It’s really hard for me to believe you’ve ever had an awkward moment in your life. Much less get turned down by five girls. I bet they’re all kicking themselves now!”

  “Maybe.” Ian shrugged. “But I’ve gotta tell you, being rejected that much during puberty can scar a guy.” He pointed to his empty glass when the bartender checked on them. “I started running in middle school and the weight began to come off. By the time I got my braces off, I had grown about a foot and the girls at high school started to pay attention to me. But you know, the scar tissue never really goes away.”

  “I went stag to the prom because I towered over all the boys.”

  “We all come with our own share of baggage, don’t we?”