A quick glance at Sarah’s face showed that she’d come down from cloud orgasm and was plotting the quickest way out of there. She wouldn’t look at him as she busied herself fixing her scarf.
He clenched his jaw, trying not to think about how soft and sweet her breast had felt in his hand. His mouth. Because that sure wasn’t helping his hard-on right now.
“Why don’t you wait out front?” he said as she reached for the door handle a moment later. “We need to talk.”
“Oh, I think we’ve talked enough. Or, funny, but not talked.” She glared at him, her face flushed from embarrassment. Probably a little bit of remaining pleasure too.
“Sarah—”
“That was not just a kiss,” she hissed, before scrambling out the door and slamming it shut behind her.
Fuck.
Irritation roared through him as he took a minute to compose himself in the bathroom in his office. When he came back out several minutes later, Curt was sprawled out on the couch.
MacGregor looked like he always did. Short, stocky, bald, and with an ugly mug, he kind of gave off a pit bull vibe. And the man still had an apparent aversion to personal hygiene, Ian realized as he approached him.
They’d met during Ian’s brief stint in prison. Their connection had come from the fact they were both in on assault charges, and Curt had saved his arse—literally—within those first few days of Ian arriving at the pen.
They’d also bonded over both being Scottish. Though MacGregor had been in America since he was five and the States were all he’d ever really known. Ian’s family had moved when he was fifteen. He was at the point where nearly half his life had been spent in Scotland, and half in America.
“MacGregor. How’s it going?” Ian offered his hand, which the other man immediately reached out and slap-shook in greeting.
“It’s going good. Real fucking good. Your garage is looking all classy-like now. I guess you’re doing good too, huh, bro?”
Bro. At one point, during his three months in prison, he’d considered this man like another brother. But once out of prison and they’d both gone their separate ways, things had started to change.
Ian had made it a priority to get his life back on the right track. He couldn’t regret the choice that had put him behind bars, but he could sure as hell try and get back on the straight and narrow road.
Curt, though, didn’t seem so inclined.
“I’ve got some parts to sell you, if you’re interested.”
It wasn’t even a question of being interested anymore. It had always just been an understanding that when Curt brought in car parts—some hard to find and expensive to order—Ian bought them. Under the table. No questions asked.
When he’d first opened the garage, he’d been a nobody and struggling just to stay open. He’d taken the risk and hadn’t asked questions. But he’d had the garage for six years now and was starting to be well respected on the island. Some people might still whisper about his criminal record, but more overlooked it and accepted him.
Curt hadn’t shown his face around here in nearly two years, and Ian had started to hope the other man had moved on. But here he was now, trying to pick up with business as usual.
“Nothing personal, MacGregor, but I think I’m going to pass.”
Curt’s grin hardened and dismay flickered in his eyes.
“What are you saying?”
Shite, there’d be no getting around it. “It’s exactly how you pointed out. My garage is doing well, and I’m not sure I can be…” he paused and met Curt’s gaze head on without flinching “…doing business with you anymore.”
“Too good for me now, huh?” Curt gave a harsh, disbelieving laugh and smoothed a hand over his bald head.
A light, quick knock sounded on the door and Ian welcomed the interruption. He moved past Curt to open it.
Sarah stood on the other side. Her face was still slightly flushed, but she appeared a little more composed now. Even if she wouldn’t look him in the eye.
She cleared her throat. “I forgot my purse.”
Ian hid a smile. How far had she gotten before she’d realized? Had she even left the garage?
“This it?”
Ian and Sarah both glanced at Curt, and the strap of a black purse he swung around a beefy finger.
“Oh. Yes, thanks.” Sarah hesitated, before stepping forward to retrieve it.
But Curt didn’t immediately let go, instead he seemed to run an analytic glance over Sarah for a moment before relinquishing the purse.
“You’re welcome, gorgeous.”
Ian picked up immediately on the sudden tension in Sarah’s stance and the flicker of discomfort across her face.
She glanced at Ian and there was wariness in her eyes now, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, with a small nod at them both, she disappeared again.
“Isn’t she a pretty little thing?”
Curt’s light tone didn’t fool Ian for a minute, and he swore silently.
“She a friend of yours?”
“Don’t know if I’d call her a friend. Old acquaintance really.” He ground his teeth together and tried to keep his expression casual. He didn’t want to give Curt any indication of how he really felt about Sarah.
Hell, not like he even really knew. He only knew he wanted to be buried inside her again, and that he’d never intentionally put her in harm’s way. The fact that their parting had been bitter and painful was irrelevant.
He’d always kept Curt away from his family. Away from anyone who was important to him, because he wasn’t all that sure he trusted the other man anymore. The brief world they’d shared while serving time didn’t mix well into his current one.
“You should probably go, Curt.”
Curt’s attention whipped back to Ian. “I’m broke, bro. You need to help me out here.”
“I can’t do it anymore. I can’t take that risk. This isn’t just about me. I’ve got employees with families. I’m done.”
“Fine. No problem.” Curt stared at him for a moment and then cocked his head. “You know, that lady in here really was pretty cute. Maybe I should hang out on the island more. Get to know her.”
Like hell. The son of a bitch was making a threat. A veiled one, but it was just as troubling. Curt had other friends too. Scary ones.
Flexing his jaw, Ian took a step toward the man he’d once considered such a close friend. It’d been an illusion. At the time he’d done what he’d had to do to survive.
“One last time, MacGregor. Come back after closing with the parts and I’ll give you cash.” He lowered his voice, not holding his punches. “But we’re done after this, got it? You walk out of here tonight, and you’re gone. You go do your own thing, and you stay away from the island.”
Curt gave a slow nod, his eyes alight with realization. Shite, whether he’d meant to or not, Ian had tipped his hand to show Sarah was off limits. A weak spot for him.
“No problem, bro.” Curt grinned and turned to leave. “See you later tonight.”
*
“And done.” Sarah saved the changes she’d just made on the website for her client and then pulled up her email on her laptop.
It felt good to work. Oh dear God, she really did need the distraction.
This afternoon she’d lost her mind. There was no denying it. Because even though she’d been in the powerful haze of passion, she’d known exactly what she was doing.
She’d gotten all hot and heavy with Ian. With the man who had shattered her heart so badly she didn’t think it would ever be able capable of love again.
She’d tried to be open to the possibility of falling in love again in Japan. Had hoped it would happen when she married Neil, but it had barely taken any time at all before she’d come to face the ugly reality. He wasn’t Ian, he would never be Ian, and her heart still belonged to a man an ocean away.
Unfortunately Neil had realized that pretty early on too. And it hadn’t settled well.
Closing h
er eyes against the wave of anxiety and sadness, she swallowed the lump in her throat.
She was in a better place now. Absolutely. It didn’t matter that she was struggling financially and going it alone. There was still one person who she loved beyond measure. Her daughter. Emily was her world. Her heart.
And she was stupid, ridiculously stupid—and apparently ridiculously horny—to have tried to throw it all away. To have risked everything for an orgasm from Ian.
But, oh, what an orgasm it had been.
“No,” she muttered, standing up. “It was a really bad lapse in judgment. And it won’t happen again.”
It couldn’t happen again. Her conviction had only grown when she’d stepped back into the office to grab her purse. Whoever Ian had been talking to gave off the vibe that he’d just crawled out from under a rock.
Unease had spread through her the minute she’d seen him, and the thorough look-over he’d given her had made her skin crawl.
She’d immediately sensed he wasn’t a kind person, or someone she’d want in her life in the slightest. And yet he seemed to be friends with Ian. Doing business with him.
Which was why she was going to keep her distance from Ian. No more kisses as bargains—what the hell had that been about anyway? Ian hated her, probably almost as much as she hated him.
How close hate and love were woven, though.
Needing to jump back into her distraction, she opened another project on her computer.
Actually, it was getting late, and a glass of wine sounded kind of awesome. She stood and went to the kitchen to open the bottle she’d just bought at the grocery.
The walk to the small store hadn’t taken too long, an hour tops there and back. The last thing she’d wanted to do was ask Ian to take her in his car, so since it was a beautiful day she’d thrown on her walking shoes and headed out.
After removing the cork from the budget bottle of wine, she grabbed a glass from the cupboard. Her gaze caught on a movement outside the window and she made a strangled sound of disbelief.
And here he was again. Ian McLaughlin, strolling up Gran’s drive like it was completely natural and expected.
Chapter Seven
She reached the front door before Ian could knock and she swung it open.
“Have you decided to become my shadow? Why don’t you just run on home?” She arched a brow. “I’m assuming you have one?”
Ian gave a small smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m renting a house down in the Greenbank area. Can I come in?”
She absorbed that little tidbit of knowledge, and sighed. “That’s probably a bad idea.”
“But you’re going to let me in anyway?” He continued onto the porch and then stepped right over the threshold.
Once again, her space shrank to just the two of them. Her head went light with the scent of him, and when his body brushed hers as he entered, her breath caught.
“You don’t take the word no very seriously, do you?” she muttered, and shut the door behind him.
“Actually, I do.” His jaw hardened, his eyes clouded. “It carries a lot of weight with me.”
He was serious, she realized. There was more than just words there.
“Are you having a bit of wine?” He nodded to the open bottle. “Would you mind if I have a glass?”
“I’d rather you didn’t. I’m not even sure why you’ve come by. I’m hoping you won’t be here long.”
“Fair enough.” He thrust his hands into his pockets. “I won’t be here longer than necessary. I promise.”
She hesitated a moment before going to grab another glass and pouring him a little bit as well.
“Thank you.” He took the glass and lifted his gaze to hers. “We should talk about your car.”
“Yes, we should. I’ve decided I’m going to try and take cash out on my credit card and pay you.”
“That won’t be necessary. I don’t need your money.”
“Yes, well, I’d rather not owe you any more kisses.” She could feel her cheeks burning hot. “Or whatever other tawdry payment you’re expecting.”
“I expected nothing. The kiss was…” he hesitated “…hell, I don’t know where that idea came from. Only that it seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“How is kissing me a good idea? We have an awful history, and you have a girlfriend. Though I guess it’s never stopped you before.”
“Ouch. Another low blow.”
“Not that low.”
He grunted. “Gina’s not my girlfriend. It was more of a hooking-up thing. And that’s over.”
“Is it?” Right. Hookup or not, that woman on his arm this afternoon had been ten times sexier than she was.
There was resolve in his eyes as he answered. “Yes. I plan to call her later, actually.”
And she believed him. It probably made her stupid as hell, but she believed him. Had she learned nothing?
Bitter with the realization, she took another sip of wine.
“And our history wasn’t all horrible.”
Her heart clenched. Why didn’t he just drop it? Why was he so determined to try and deepen a scar that would never disappear?
“The end was horrible. It kind of taints the rest, don’t you think?”
“I don’t really know. I have a hard time forgetting the rest sometimes.” A bitter smile twisted his mouth. “Much harder than you it seems.”
She watched him take another sip of wine. Saw the bead of red gather on his lip and had to fight the temptation to lean forward and kiss it away.
If someone would’ve told her ten years ago that Ian would be standing here, saying these kinds of things and seeming almost vulnerable, she would’ve laughed.
Ian was a born and bred bad boy. His agenda in life seemed to be to have fun and screw the consequences. Early on, maybe that first time they’d met in the car, he might’ve even said that to her.
He hadn’t changed, though. And she couldn’t afford to get involved with him again. It was a risk to so much more than her heart.
Hardening her resolve, and any romantic side of her that was screaming, “Maybe…” she stepped away from him and moved into the living room.
The upholstered couch had to be two decades old at least, and it showed the wear and love from the years. She sank into it, breathing in the familiar scent of Gran’s house that rose with the dust.
“I need to get some work done tonight. So why don’t you finish up with what you came to tell me, and we’ll call it a night?”
*
What he came to tell her? Ian bit back a sharp laugh of disbelief. Hell, he wasn’t quite sure what he’d come to tell her. Maybe, no definitely, warn her to stay away from MacGregor if she saw him anywhere.
But first, he had to get her off the idea of paying him for repairing the car. She’d already admitted she was broke, and he truly had no need for her money. His reputation was fantastic and his clientele was expanding by the week. Sure, he did simple car repairs on the island, but word had spread about the work he did on classic car restoration. He was the garage people on—and off—the island came to.
“Tell you what,” Ian began, “instead of kisses, instead of money, why don’t we—”
The ringing of her cell phone had him trailing off. Maybe it was a good thing because he wasn’t quite sure what’d he’d been about to offer.
“Shouldn’t you answer that?” he asked, when Sarah made no move to answer her cell. “What if it’s your daughter?”
“It is,” she admitted, and seemed reluctant to answer. “Give me a moment.”
He watched her answer the phone. Her tone and expression softened as he listened to the tender conversation with her daughter.
As if she couldn’t take his gaze on her anymore, she stood and paced in front of the window as she chatted.
Ian took her place on the couch, sipping his wine as he stared out the large window behind her. The view was rather spectacular. You could see part of the historic town of Cou
peville, and then beyond it the small inlet of saltwater named Penn Cove—famous for the mussels grown there.
Even though it was heading toward six in the evening, there were still sailboats and kayakers out. No doubt enjoying the longer days of summer and awaiting the upcoming sunset.
“Sorry about that.” Sarah hit a button on her cell phone and came to sit down again. “She’s on the east coast and is just getting ready for bed. She wanted to call and say goodnight. We’ve never been apart this long, and I know it isn’t easy for her. Or me. At bedtime I usually tuck her in and have her read out loud to me from a chapter book.”
“That’s quite sweet.” And it was. He didn’t have much experience with kids—none of his siblings had any yet. But he knew when the time came, he could probably adapt slowly to the uncle role. “What did you say her name was?”
“I didn’t, but it’s Emily.”
“Pretty. How old is she?”
“She’s eight. Almost nine.” Sarah tucked her phone back into her purse. “I’m sorry, now what were you saying before she called? Something about payment for my car?”
“Ah yes, I was.” What the hell had he been about to offer? “Why don’t you just bake us muffins or something?”
The look Sarah threw at him could’ve frozen ice. “I’m sorry? Bake muffins?”
“Er, you don’t have to. It was just a suggestion. You weren’t overtly fond of the kissing one—”
“I’m not. No more kisses.” Her mouth flattened into a line of determination.
He laughed softly and arched a brow. “I think you enjoyed it, doll. And before you try to claim otherwise, remember I was there when you were riding out an orgasm on my finger.”
Her choked gasp coincided with the widening of her eyes. “You’re awful. You had to say that? Really?”
His laugh turned to a belly one now. Loud and resounding in the room. “It’d be more unnatural if I didn’t.”
“Well then get a filter for your thoughts. Most people have one.”
“Hmm. I’ll keep it in mind, but it’s not quite as fun.” He sobered some and lifted his gaze to hers again. “But I truly don’t need your money, Sarah. Keep it. I’ll do this as a favor.”
One More Round Page 7