by Joanna Sims
“You’re right. We all do.”
Ian turned toward her. “So...wait a minute. Did you know I was the guy from the Armani ad the day we met on the street?”
Jordan pushed the hem of her dress toward her knees. “Uh-uh. Honestly...I really thought you were just another downtown wacko.”
“Thanks,” he said wryly.
Jordan continued. “To tell you the truth, when I look back on it, I did think that there was something familiar about you. But let’s be real...it never occurred to me, not in a million years, that I would ever meet the guy in the Armani ad. I’m a rancher’s daughter from Montana and you’re... Well. You.”
“And yet here we are. Together.” Ian smiled quietly at her. “In paradise.”
“I couldn’t have imagined this if I tried.” Jordan laughed. “You know what’s funny? My sister’s the one who recognized you. I’m the one who had your picture hanging up on my wall, but she realized that you were the guy in the ad. I’ve gotta be honest—I almost chickened out on the test shoot once I realized who you were.”
“I’m glad you decided to show.”
“Me, too.” Jordan swiveled on her bar stool and nodded to the couple who had carved out the center of the dance floor to salsa. “One day I want to be able to dance like that.”
After several moments of internal wrestling, Ian asked, “Would you like to dance with me, Jordan?”
She slid her eyes back to him. “Why am I not surprised that you can dance like that?”
“I’m a man of many hidden talents.” He smiled at her.
She tilted her head. “Let me guess. You dated a professional dancer?”
“Dance instructor.”
“You know...” Jordan swiveled her stool toward him. “It’s amazing to me how much you have learned from all of these ex-girlfriends of yours. The only thing I ever learned from my ex was how to make a grilled-cheese sandwich with an iron.”
“Would you like to dance with me, Jordan?” Ian repeated as he leaned toward her.
“Right now?”
“Can you think of a better place?” he asked. “We have this one free night in paradise. Why not take advantage of it? Unless, of course, I’d be stepping on someone’s toes if we danced together. Then I would understand why you would say no.”
“The only person stepping on anyone’s toes in this scenario would be me stepping on yours.” Jordan said. “I don’t have a boyfriend, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“It was.” Ian’s dimple appeared as he smiled at her. “So—we’re both single. Can you think of one good reason why we shouldn’t make the most of this night together?”
She felt slightly light-headed from the music and the night air and the insanity of Ian Sterling making a case for her to dance with him. It was like being transported to an alternate universe without any warning whatsoever. She was having a hard time wrapping her mind around it. And no matter how she tried to rework it in her mind, Ian was still her living, breathing fantasy man. The thought of being held in his arms—the thought of being pressed up against his body—made her feel excited, and slightly queasy with nerves.
“You know what?” Jordan decided to get over herself, throw caution to the wind and accept what might be a once-in-lifetime offer to dance with her fantasy prom date. “I do want to dance with you. As long as you don’t mind my two left feet....”
“They’ll go nicely with my two right feet,” Ian countered, and she appreciated the fact that he was trying, as he always did, to make her more comfortable.
“But first, we’ve got to do something.” Jordan wrinkled her nose at him.
“What’s that?”
Jordan pointed to his jacket and tie. “You’ve gotta loosen up, GQ. This is Curaçao. You’re way too uptight.”
“You’re an odd duck, aren’t you?” Ian asked, smiling down at her.
“Quack, quack.” She reached up and loosened the knot in his tie. Once it was free, she slowly slid the tie out from underneath his shirt collar.
She put it on the bar and then held out her hand. “Jacket, please.”
Ian smiled at her amusedly as he shrugged out of his jacket and passed it to her.
“Better?” he asked.
“Almost.” She reached out, tugged on his right arm so she could unbutton his cuff and roll up his sleeve to just below his elbow. While he watched her with a bemused expression on his face, she performed the same action with his left sleeve.
“Are we good?” He held out his arms for her inspection.
Jordan pointed at his neck. “Undo the top two buttons and then we’ll be good to go.”
Ian quickly complied. “Now are you happy?”
She stood with her hands on her hips and gave him a head-to-toe once-over. With a nod, she said, “Yes. I am.”
He held out his hand to her. “Shall we?”
Jordan slipped her hand into his and felt reassured as his fingers closed over hers. “This could turn out to be an absolute disaster.”
“Relax, beautiful,” he said near her ear. “I’ve got your back.”
* * *
Ian had intended to dance only one dance with Jordan. But once he held her in his arms, once he experienced what it was like to have her body close to his, feel her vibrant energy radiating into his core, he wasn’t in a hurry to let her go. Her brilliant blue eyes drew him in and held him captive. He wanted to breathe in the sweet floral scent of her skin again and again. But what he truly appreciated about Jordan, beyond the physical, was her spirit. Her laugh was infectious and her smile contagious. When he spent time with her, he felt lifted. He forgot about his diagnosis, forgot about his career. He forgot about all of it and just enjoyed the dance. For the first time in a long time, he felt like a normal guy spending time with a beautiful woman. And for him, that feeling was beyond priceless.
Jordan had hardly noticed as one by one the couples began to disappear from the dance floor. Ian had captured her attention while everyone else melted into the background. All her focus had been aimed at him. She concentrated on the feel of his tall, lean body as he guided her through the basic salsa steps. She absorbed the feel of his muscular arm beneath her fingertips and the strength of his hand on her back as he pulled her closer. He made it easy for her to relax and enjoy being swept up in his arms. And in his arms, she discovered an unexpected sense of belonging, an unexpected sense of security. She felt completely at home with Ian.
“Thank you and good night!” the band leader said into the microphone, marking the end of their last set for the evening.
Ian led her through one last turn and then they both stopped and clapped. Jordan looked around and realized that they were the only couple left on the dance floor.
“How long have we been out here?” she asked with a laugh. She felt hot and sweaty and exhilarated.
Ian glanced at his watch. “Right around two hours.”
She pushed her hair back from her forehead and smiled up at him. “Now, that’s how you spend a first night in Curaçao! Right? And I think I actually got pretty good there at the end. Don’t ya think?”
“You held your own, there’s no doubt about it.” He walked her back toward the bar.
Ian collected his tie and jacket while Jordan grabbed a napkin and wiped the sweat from her brow and neck. He smiled at her. Her face was flushed and glowing. Radiant.
“I suppose we should head back to our rooms,” she said. She could hear the reluctance in her own voice. To be here, in Curaçao, with Ian, to have spent the night caught up in the embrace of a man whom she had dreamed about for years had been...magical. And she didn’t want it to end.
“We’re here to get a job done.” Ian said this more as a reminder to himself than to her.
“You’re right,” she agreed. “I should force myself
to get some rest.”
“Shall we?” He gestured toward their rooms.
Jordan nodded and began to walk at a leisurely pace in the direction of the hotel. Ian fell in step and they walked together in silence. He reached to open the door for her, but missed it on the first try. She noticed, but chalked it up to his being tired as he found the handle and they walked through the door.
Once inside, she was met with a cold blast of air across her heated skin. She immediately crossed her arms over her body and began to rub her hands on her arms. Without a word, Ian draped his suit jacket over her shoulders. Surprised, she glanced up at him as her chilled skin was enveloped in his warmth.
“Better?” he asked as he pushed the up arrow for the elevator.
“Yes. Thank you. I really like that you’re a gentleman, Ian.” The jacket held Ian’s scent and she had to squelch the urge to bring the material up to her nose and breathe in that unmistakable spicy, sexy cologne that was Ian’s signature.
The elevator doors slid open and Ian waited for her to enter before he followed. His brow was furrowed and his mood had turned pensive. Neither spoke as they rode up to the third floor. She glanced at him as she stepped out into the hallway and saw that he was intending to see her to her door. She pulled the lapels of his jacket together, basking in the silken feel of the lining on her skin. When they reached her door, she slipped the jacket from her shoulders and handed it to him. She pulled her key out of her pocket, but hesitated to slide it into the lock. Ian stood beside her, jacket over his forearm, hands tucked into the front pockets of his pants. It seemed to Jordan that neither of them wanted the night to end, but they both knew it was time.
“Thank you for a great first night in Curaçao, Ian. For teaching me how to salsa.” She swayed her hips slightly to emphasize the word. “I’ll never forget it.”
He briefly glanced up at the ceiling, as if to collect his thoughts, before he looked at her. The lighthearted Ian from the dance floor had given way to the quiet, introspective man who stood before her now. His smile had disappeared and the expression in his eyes grew intense as he responded.
“I had a great time with you, too, Jordan. You...helped me get out of my own head. It’s been a really long time since I’ve given myself permission to have a little fun.”
They both fell silent for several long seconds; neither one of them were in a hurry to say good-night. But the night had to end. And there simply was no other realistic ending to the evening other than for both of them to do so and go their separate ways.
She was about to take the initiative and step back when Ian cautiously reached out and gently brushed her bangs out of her eyes. Surprised, Jordan held her breath as his fingers traveled down the side of her face and under her chin. It was a soft, intimate touch.
“You’re a beautiful woman, Jordan,” he said in a low, gravelly voice as he pulled his hand away. “When I’m with you, you make me forget about everything that’s...bothering me.” He slipped his hands back into his pockets to keep himself from pulling her into his arms. He wanted to kiss Jordan. He wanted to kiss her so badly. “I just wish that...we’d met at different time in my life—when things weren’t so...complicated for me. When I didn’t have to focus entirely on my career.”
“Trust me, Ian. I get it,” she said. “I’ve sworn off relationships myself until I finish the paintings for the show. But that doesn’t mean that we can’t be friends, does it?”
He found himself smiling again. “No. It doesn’t.”
Jordan unfolded her arms. “Can we hug it out, friend?”
Ian stepped forward, pulled her into his body and wrapped his arms around her. For a brief, exquisite moment, she was engulfed in the strength and warmth of his embrace. He held her so tightly that she could feel the steady beat of his heart. And in turn, she wrapped her arms around his waist and held him just as tightly as he was holding her. It was a moment between two people that was honest and tender, and it rocked her to her core. She had to force herself to slip out of his arms and take a step away.
Ian’s face was in shadow, and she couldn’t read the expression in his eyes as he moved back from her. She wished she could see his eyes clearly. Had he felt the electricity that had jumped between their bodies when they were pressed together?
“Good night, Jordan,” he said solemnly.
She slipped her key into the door, waited for the green light to flash then turned the handle. “Good night, Ian.”
He waited for her to step into her room and shut the door firmly behind her. As the lock clicked shut, Jordan leaned back against the door, closed her eyes and put her hand over her racing heart. After a moment, she picked up her phone and typed a text to her sister. She wrote simply, I think I fell in love 2nite and then hit Send.
And as she slipped into the cool, crisp, white sheets of her bed, Jordan replayed the events of the evening over and over in her mind. She never, for the rest of her life, wanted to forget this one incredible, romantic night that she had spent in the arms of Ian Sterling.
Chapter Eight
Ian didn’t sleep well that night. After he dropped Jordan off at her room, he prowled around the penthouse, feeling unsettled and frustrated. Instead of reaching for the complimentary booze, he started knocking out crunches until the burn in his stomach muscles was too much to bear. Thoughts of Jordan whirled in his mind—her beautiful eyes, the softness of her skin, the sound of her laughter.
He had crossed a line with Jordan that he’d never crossed with a model on a shoot before, and he was angry that he couldn’t even bring himself to regret it. He was crazy about her, that was the truth of it, and it had taken every ounce of his willpower not to kiss her good-night. The last thought he had before he drifted off to sleep was of Jordan, and he had awakened from a fitful sleep with the knowledge that she had invaded his dreams.
Unable to sleep, and unable to get thoughts of Jordan out of his mind, Ian decided the best cure for what ailed him was an early-morning run on the beach. He needed to sweat. Needed to expend some of his pent-up frustration. Needed to stop his preoccupation with Jordan and focus on the job at hand. He pulled on some running gear and grabbed his sunglasses before he headed down to the deserted beach. He knew this hotel like the back of his hand and that made it easier for him to navigate in spite of his reduced vision.
Once on the beach, he pulled off his tank top and dropped it on a lounge chair. He set out on his customary route, slowly at first, to let his muscles warm up. When the time was right, he sprinted along the deserted shoreline, reveling in the feel of the hard-packed sand beneath his feet and the burn of lactic acid as it shot through his thigh muscles. The constant stream of thoughts about the book, about the shoot, about his career, the future of his business, Jordan...were temporarily overridden by the sound of his heartbeat, his breath, and the crescendo of waves as they rolled toward shore. For the first time since he had landed in Curaçao, he felt the tension release from his back and shoulders.
Ian stopped at the far end of the private beach and stretched his hamstrings and calves. He stared at the cresting sun before he turned around and jogged back toward the hotel. He had a long couple days ahead of him—he needed to be laser focused on getting this job done. The fact that his eyes were a ticking time bomb was never far from his mind, and he knew he didn’t have the luxury of wasting time. And this infatuation with Jordan—this desire for Jordan—needed to be controlled. But if he was being honest with himself, keeping his relationship with her platonic and professional was going to be a lot easier thought than done.
* * *
Before sunrise, Jordan awakened. She tried to fall back asleep, but was too excited about being in Curaçao to linger in bed. She quickly threw on a pair of cutoff denim shorts and a tank top, grabbed her sketch pad, some sunscreen and a towel and headed down to the beach. She sat down cross-legged on a lounge chair
with her pad on her lap.
She could see the sun peeking out from the horizon and waited with impatient anticipation for her first Curaçao sunrise. As the rays began to bloom over the horizon, her attention was drawn to a lone figure jogging along the shoreline. She turned her head slightly to watch the man running along the beach. He was tall, broad shouldered and stripped bare to the waist. He jogged with an even, controlled stride of a seasoned athlete, and she found herself rudely staring at him as he approached. As he came closer still, it suddenly struck her that the man she had been admiring was Ian.
“Ian!” She called out to him and waved her hand in the air. She thought she’d seen him glance over at her, but he hadn’t seemed to recognize her.
When he heard his name called by Jordan’s familiar voice, Ian slowed his jog to a walk. In spite of his determination to resist his attraction to her, he had been thinking about her at the exact moment she’d called out his name. It was as if he had made her materialize with his thoughts. He turned toward the sound of her voice and started to walk over to where she was sitting. She had chosen a lounge chair that was located only a few feet away from where he had left his shirt.
“Hi!” she said again with another wave and a smile. She stood up and watched as he walked toward her with that confident natural swagger that reminded her of the first time she had ever seen him, on Sixth Street. Sweat glistened on his neck and arms and trickled down his torso onto his lean stomach. His hard, six-pack abs rippled as he caught his breath.
How could it be possible that Ian looked even better without clothing? It simply wasn’t normal. He walked over to a nearby lounge chair and grabbed his shirt. He wiped his face off with it and then tossed it over his shoulder as he walked toward her.
Ian stood in front of her, hands resting on his hips, chest rising and falling from the exertion of his run. “You’re up early,” he said. “I thought you’d still be sleeping.”
“No.” She nodded toward the horizon. “I wanted to catch the sunrise. I figure I can sleep when I get home. What’s your excuse?”