Ian

by Kate Hoffmann

  When he’d first realized she was there beside his bed, he’d thought he was caught in a dream. But the moment she touched him, her warm, naked body against his skin, Ian knew she wasn’t just a nighttime fantasy.

  Over the past few days and nights, he’d done his best to put her out of his head. But it was clear by his reaction to her tonight that what he’d thought was progress had simply been a feeble attempt at denial. His body still responded to hers. If anything, he wanted her more for having been without her for three days.

  Finding pleasure in her was his body’s ultimate betrayal. But it wasn’t just the physical act of coming inside of her that he craved. His orgasm had become more about possession than release. Every moment he spent in such intimate contact was a moment that bound her to him.

  Marisol was his. Her body, her soul, her heart, her mind, he wanted them all. He couldn’t imagine relinquishing her to another man, knowing what they’d shared. But how far would he go to keep her in his life?

  She stirred and Ian leaned forward, bracing his arms on his knees. At first, he thought she’d go back to sleep, but then Marisol pushed up on her elbow and searched the bed for him, reaching out to touch his pillow.

  “I’m here,” he murmured.

  She turned, brushing the hair out of her eyes. “Is it morning?”

  He shook his head. “No. Go back to sleep.”

  She snuggled down beneath the covers and sighed. “Your front door was unlocked. You shouldn’t leave your front door unlocked.”

  “My brother Declan stays here occasionally when he’s in town. Sometimes he forgets his key. Besides, who’s going to break into my house? I’m the police chief.”

  “I broke in,” she said with a self-satisfied smile.

  “But you didn’t come to steal anything.” He paused. “On second thought, maybe you did.” She’d stolen his willpower, his resolve and his self-control. And yet somehow, she didn’t make him feel weak or inadequate. And he certainly wasn’t a victim.

  Being with Marisol made him more alive than he’d ever been. Losing himself in her body, in their lovemaking, made him realize what it was to be a man. He reveled in their differences, in the perfect contrasts between their bodies, soft and hard, delicate and strong, woman and man.

  He and Marisol had been fashioned by fate to be together. It was the only explanation for the sheer exhilaration he felt when he touched her, and the contentment that seemed to descend upon them both when they were finished.

  “Are you sorry I came?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “How could I be?”

  “I couldn’t sleep,” she said. “I just needed to sleep. I needed you.”

  Ian nodded. “Sometimes, I feel as if we’ve known each other for years. And then, I realize I don’t know anything about you, beyond the fact that we share this incredibly intimate relationship. I can possess your body in any way I choose and you wouldn’t refuse me, would you?”

  She shook her head.

  “But yet, I could ask you a simple question, and suddenly, a wall would spring up between us.”

  “That would depend on the question,” she said. “Is there a question you’ve been wanting to ask me?”

  “Yeah,” Ian said. “But I don’t know what use it would be asking since I don’t think you’re willing to answer.”

  “Then don’t ask,” she said, her voice taking on an uneasy tone.

  “I have to, Marisol. If I don’t, then I’m going against everything I am.”

  She sat up in bed and pulled the covers around her breasts, her eyes wide and watching. Ian thought again about how best to handle her. He’d always been an honest man, yet suddenly, he’d begun living in this world of unspoken lies and half truths, content that if he didn’t acknowledge the problem then it didn’t exist.

  “A few days ago, my brother Declan gave me some information…about you. And about David Barnett.”

  She raked her hair out of her eyes, a frown wrinkling her brow. “I don’t-what kind of information?”

  Ian sat back in the chair, stretching his legs out in front of him and tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling. He couldn’t look at her. Her beauty just blinded him to reality. All he could do was listen to her voice and gauge her reactions that way. “He did a background check on you both.”

  “Just like that? How did he know to-”

  “I asked him to do it. The night after I met David Barnett.” So it was half a lie, but right now, Ian couldn’t feel guilty. She was hiding something from him-every instinct told him so. “I just got a vibe off of him that he might be trouble.” He looked at Marisol. “I’m a cop and I have been for a long time. I can’t ignore those hunches. It’s part of the job.”

  “So why check up on me?”

  “Even though we’d been…intimate, I didn’t know anything about you. Call it self-preservation.”

  “And what did you learn?”

  “You tell me,” he said, anger edging his voice.

  She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and stared at her hands, her fingers plucking at the sheet twisted around her legs. “I can’t,” she whispered.

  “You can’t? Or you won’t?” He cursed softly. “Tell me you can’t because there was nothing in that file. Tell me all these doubts racing through my head don’t exist. Tell me I do know the woman I’ve been sleeping with. Because if you don’t, them I’m going to feel like a real chump.”

  Silence spun out around them and Ian expected any moment she’d crawl out of bed, grab her dress and leave. “Marisol, you know you can trust me,” he whispered.

  “Can I? How do I know that? We met, what? Ten days ago? Just because a lot has happened in those ten days, doesn’t mean I can trust you. I thought I could trust David Barnett and I was wrong.”

  “So you would rather I just let this go? Just walk away from you and all of this, from whatever is in that folder?”

  Marisol nodded. “You can’t help me,” she murmured. “It would put everything you stand for at risk. You’re a police officer and you’re not allowed to bend the rules.” She paused. “Why don’t you just tell me what you know and I’ll tell you if it’s true?”

  “I threw the file away,” Ian said. “I didn’t look inside. I don’t know what you’re hiding. That’s up to you to say. But if it’s something that will get you in trouble with the law, then you know what has to happen.”

  “You have to stay away from me,” she said.

  Ian cursed. They were caught in a trap, only one of them able to break free, but at the expense of the other. Deep down, he knew she was in trouble and she was probably mixed up in something illegal. But the moment he learned the facts, he’d be compelled to act in his capacity as an officer of the law. He also sensed that she needed his help, but she couldn’t ask for fear that she’d draw him into the mess.

  “I haven’t done anything wrong,” she said, after a long silence. “You have to believe me. I’m just trying to protect someone I love.”

  “Then you love him?”

  “Of course I do,” she said.

  Ian’s jaw grew tense and he bit back a curse. So that was how it was. She was still in love with David Barnett and probably sleeping with him now, too. It couldn’t be any clearer than that. “Maybe this is for the best,” he said. The words came out of his mouth, but Ian didn’t believe them for a second. “You take care of your business and I’ll handle mine and we’ll go on as if we never met.”

  “But we did meet,” she said.

  He nodded. “As long as you keep yourself out of trouble, I’ll leave you alone. If you cause any problems, Marisol, you’re not going to give me a choice.”

  “I understand,” she said.

  Ian levered to his feet then circled the bed and picked up her dress from the floor. He held it out to her. “You’d better get dressed. I’ll take you home.”

  Marisol took the dress from him and slipped it over her head, then fumbled with the buttons. When she was finished, she cra
wled out of bed and searched the floor for her shoes. “I have my car. I’ll go.”

  When she was ready, Marisol stood in front of him and touched his face with her hand. “I know what I’m doing,” she murmured. “You have to trust me on this.” She pushed up on her toes and pressed a kiss to his lips. “I would never hurt you.”

  With that, she turned and walked out. Ian stood alone, wondering at how the room had suddenly turned cold. He felt as if everything he’d ever wanted had been snatched from him and there was nothing he could do about it. Marisol wasn’t his, she never had been. He’d just been too caught up in the fantasy to realize that.

  “WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO?”

  Marisol sat on the edge of her worktable, her legs dangling. She had thought about that question since the moment she’d unwrapped the painting and realized what her father had done. And she would have come to a decision a lot sooner if Ian hadn’t been occupying her thoughts day and night.

  It wasn’t any wonder she preferred to think about him. The sexy man who made her writhe with pleasure, or a potential problem that could get her thrown in jail? The choice wasn’t difficult. In truth, she’d been using Ian to distract herself from her problems, to avoid the inevitable choice that she’d have to make.

  Marisol looked up at Sascha and forced a smile. Her friend had arrived early that morning. They’d spent most of the day going over the pieces Sascha wanted for her own gallery, and the work Marisol would show at her opening. They discussed the prices they’d attach to each painting and sculpture.

  All day long, Marisol had waited for the right moment to broach the subject of her plan, praying that Sascha would agree to help her. The waning afternoon had finally pushed her into action, Marisol knowing that Sascha would have to leave soon in order to get back to the city before dark. “I came up with an idea. But I’m going to need your help.”

  “My help?”

  “Don’t worry. I’m not going to ask you to do anything illegal.”

  Sascha shifted nervously. “I think helping you replace that painting would probably make me an accessory to some sort of crime. I adore accessories, but I don’t want to be one, darling.”

  “We’re not going to get caught.” Though Marisol’s words sounded convincing, her confidence didn’t extend much further.

  “All right, what’s the plan?”

  She jumped off the table and took Sascha’s hand, dragging her to the far wall of the gallery. “See this,” she said, pointing to the painting she’d been working on all night. “This is a gift. I’m going to present it to the Templetons. It just happens to be exactly the same size as their Colter.”

  Sascha peered at the painting, her smile slowly growing. “Oh, I saw this in a movie! The real painting is underneath and then you’ll spray it with-”

  “No!” Marisol said. “Nothing that complicated. I’ll crate this with the Colter and get them both into the Templetons’ house. Then I’ll make a fuss about unveiling my gift in the library, where the Colter is hung. And then, you’ll create a diversion and I’ll switch the two.”

  “A diversion?”

  Marisol ran over to her worktable and returned with the handheld hot air gun she used to dry paint. “You’ll excuse yourself and go to the powder room under the stairs. Then you’ll plug this in, fill the sink with water and toss it into the sink. Or, I suppose you could use the toilet. Either way, the power should go off which will give me enough time to switch the paintings.”

  “Most of those security systems have a battery backup,” Sascha warned.

  “I know. But if the alarm sounds, the Templetons will think it’s from the power surge. Even if they suspect something is going on, they have far more valuable pieces in other parts of the house. The Renoir in the foyer is worth five times as much as the Colter. And rumor has it they have a Picasso drawing upstairs in the master suite.”

  Sascha picked up the dryer. “How am I supposed to get this into the house?”

  Marisol rolled her eyes. “Come on. You don’t have a designer bag that could carry that?”

  “I suppose I could carry my Balenciaga. Although, I haven’t found anything good to wear with it yet. We’ll have to go shopping.”

  “I don’t care if you stuff the thing under your shirt,” Marisol said. “It’s your responsibility to get it into the house and make sure the electricity is off for at least five minutes. I’ll take care of the rest.”

  “But there are so many things that could go wrong,” Sascha said. “And what if they do?”

  “Then I’ll tell the Templetons the truth and throw myself on their mercy. But I have to at least give this a try first. My motives are honorable. I’m attempting to right a wrong, so this isn’t really a crime, is it?”

  “Well, when you put it that way, I guess it isn’t. Although I’m not sure your little friend, Officer Studly, would agree.”

  Marisol winced. “I want you to call the Templetons and tell them I have a gift for them. You set up the get-together and I’ll make sure the plan works.”

  “Speaking of Officer Studly, where does he fit into this plan?”

  “He doesn’t,” Marisol said. “He doesn’t know anything about it.”

  That wasn’t entirely true, she mused. Ian knew something was going on, he just wasn’t sure what. Since he was leaving it up to her to tell him, then he’d just have to wait until it was all over and her father was safe.

  “Are you still sleeping with him?”

  Marisol considered her answer for a long moment. She’d slept with him last night but had no intentions of sleeping with him tonight, so technically she wasn’t still sleeping with him. Ian had made himself perfectly clear. Until she told him the truth about herself, he wasn’t interested in associating with her.

  Still, Marisol had to wonder if he’d invite her back into his bed if she made the offer. Would he be able to turn her away? Or was his desire for her more powerful than his professional ethics?

  Every night they spent together seemed to bring them closer and closer. Last night, after she’d crawled into her own bed, she’d lain awake for hours, trying to figure out a way to tell him the truth, a way to ask for his help, if only so they might be together again.

  She knew him sexually, knew every inch of his body, knew exactly how he’d respond to her touch. Yet she could only guess at how he’d react to her revelation. She knew the man who made love to her with such reckless abandon, but she didn’t know the man who put on a uniform and spent his days enforcing the law.

  Marisol wanted to know that man, but at the same time, he held such power over her-the power to take her father away from her again. No, she couldn’t trust him. Not now, not yet. Sascha was the only person who knew the truth and it would have to stay that way until she sorted out this mess.

  “Well, are you going to answer my question?” Sascha asked.

  “Am I still sleeping with him?”

  “That’s what I asked. Either you are or you aren’t.”

  “No. In fact, he knows something’s going on with me…and David. He has-he had a file on us both.”

  “What?”

  Marisol held out her hand to calm Sascha’s rising panic. “It’s all right. He didn’t read it, but he has suspicions about me.”

  “What kind of cop is he?”

  “I think he might be afraid of what he’ll learn,” Marisol admitted.

  Sascha gasped. “He’s in love with you.”

  “Don’t be silly,” Marisol cried.

  “I’m not. He’s a cop who suspects you might be involved in criminal activity and yet he’s unwilling to even figure out what you’re up to. He’s in love with you.”

  “We barely know each other.” Marisol turned away from Sascha and began to arrange her tubes of paint on the wide surface of the worktable. Was Sascha right? After all, why wouldn’t Ian appease his natural curiosity by reading the file on her? She drew a deep breath and tried to sort it all out in her mind. Was it because he didn’t care? Or
because he cared too much?

  “I have to find a place to hide the painting,” Marisol murmured. “David showed up a few nights ago and I think he was trying to break in here and steal it back. If he gets it, there’s no way I can fix this for my father.”

  “Where can you put it?”

  “You could take it,” she suggested. “Hide it at your place until we’re ready to make the switch.”

  Sascha shook her head. “Not a chance. I agreed to help you with your little plan, but that extends to creating a diversion. If I get caught with that painting, my career would be over.”

  “I understand.”

  Marisol considered all her options and could think of only one other place that it would be perfectly safe. She smiled to herself. “There is one place that David would never think to look.”

  7

  IAN STARED AT HIS CARDS, then shrewdly searched for tells on the faces of Declan and Marcus. “I’ll call,” he finally said, tossing in three blue poker chips. He laid down his cards. “Kings over sixes.”

  Declan cursed and threw his cards into the center of the table. “I can’t buy a decent hand,” he muttered. Shoving his chair back, he stood. “Does anyone want another beer?”

  “I’m good,” Marcus said.

  “Me, too,” Ian murmured.

  Declan wandered over to the small kitchen on the far wall of Marcus’s loft and opened the refrigerator. When he returned, he carried a fresh beer and a bag of potato chips. He sprawled into the chair, groaning softly. “I guess I’m sleeping on your sofa tonight,” he said, tipping his beer bottle toward Marcus. “I’m too drunk to drive back to Providence. Or I could stay with you.” He pointed his beer at Ian and grinned. “I prefer that nice soft bed in your guest room to Marky’s sofa.”

  Ian shook his head. “I have an early day tomorrow. Besides, I walked over and I’m not about to drag you home through the streets of Bonnett Harbor stumbling drunk.”

  It was a logical excuse considering Ian didn’t want any houseguests. After Marisol’s surprise appearance in his bedroom the night before last, he half expected her to turn up again. And he didn’t need his brother questioning the strange frantic moans coming from Ian’s room in the middle of the night. Or the beautiful woman sneaking out the kitchen door in the hours before dawn. He’d managed to keep his affair with Marisol completely private, no small feat for a public figure in Bonnett Harbor. He wasn’t about to let that change.