by Colet Abedi
“Oh, he’s mysterious, all right.” She looks excited for me. I wonder if she’s lost her mind.
“What am I supposed to make of this?” I ask in exasperation as I point at the stunning arrangement. Even my mom would even be a fan and she’s hard to please when it comes to flowers.
Wyld looks at me as if she doesn’t know me. She keeps shaking her head.
I know why. What she’s witnessing right now is a total Kerri Harrington breakdown. I’m a mess over a man—who would have thought it could ever happen? I guess there’s a first time for everything. And everyone.
“What do you think you should make of it?” She sounds completely horrified that I’m even asking the question.
“If I knew, I wouldn’t be throwing it back to you,” I retort.
“The old Kerri would know what it meant.” Wyld sounds over the moon about my predicament. “The old Kerri would know that this is a romantic gesture from a mysterious, sexy man who has clearly rocked your world in every way or you wouldn’t be acting like your body’s been taken over by an alien from one of Jamie’s horror movies.”
Her saying the words makes me realize how dumb I must sound. She’s completely right. I’ve totally lost my cool and it’s all Ian’s goddamn fault. I’m a mess because of him. God, I wish I had never—
Liar. No, you don’t. Don’t even think the words. You want him even now. He’s completely infected you.
Just like a deadly virus. I’m in some serious deep shit.
“I mean, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this, and it’s pretty epic to witness.” Wyld looks beyond pleased.
I wave off her comment. “I get it. You’re right. I’m losing it and I need to get a freaking grip before I implode.” I look at the flowers and kind of melt. “How gorgeous are they?”
“Completely,” Wyld agrees. “He clearly has good taste.”
“He does.” I think of his home and all the beautiful things he spoiled me with. “But he also needs a little more warmth in his life. He’s definitely lacking in that department.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s not as warm and fuzzy as Jamie.”
“Explain please. That’s a little too vague.”
“I don’t know.” I try to figure out how to articulate my thoughts. “I just don’t see him coming over to hang out at the house with us, like Jamie’s done. I don’t think it would be his style.”
“How do you know?” Wyld asks.
“Trust me.”
“I don’t know, he might just surprise you.”
Chapter Fifteen
Kerri
The bastard proves me wrong that night.
Wyld is unfortunately not home when Ian makes his jaw-dropping debut at the house. I texted him earlier to thank him for the flowers and the only response I got was, “You’re welcome,” which I did my best not to overanalyze—and let me tell you, that was really hard to do. But Wylder is right. Somehow I need to get my cool back. I can’t act insane or insecure—that will only make Ian run for the hills.
So it’s after work and I’m in the kitchen, making Tony and I some pasta, when the door rings. Tony’s already opened a bottle of wine, and we’re enjoying each other’s company and gossiping about work. I wish Wylder was with us, but she’s basically moved into Jamie’s house in Malibu. I have a feeling she’s going to make it official soon and I’m totally dreading it because I am going to miss her.
I have on my home clothes—white sweatpants that hang low on my hipbones and a black T-shirt that exposes a little bit of my midriff. Once the food is ready and we’re sitting in front of the TV, I’ll throw on my big fleece sweater and my uniform will be complete.
“Expecting company?” I ask Tony, who gets up to grab the door as I sauté the garlic and thyme.
“Probably just the scripts I have to deliver tomorrow morning for Sherri,” Tony calls over his shoulder.
I taste the sauce again. Since I’m at the stove, my back is toward the rest of the kitchen and I’m totally thrown when I feel those swoon-worthy arms I’ve been fantasizing about encircle my waist from behind. Talk about my dream lover coming to life. I melt right into him.
“Ian.” I can’t even keep my smile or giddy pleasure out of my voice.
“I missed you,” he whispers in my ear before kissing me on the neck.
It’s a good thing he’s holding me so tightly because I can barely keep myself up. It’s been twenty-four hours, if that, and I feel as if I haven’t seen him for a year. I turn in his arms and crush my lips to his in a kiss that’s sweet and tender. I can’t believe how much I missed him.
He smiles against my mouth. “You taste like garlic.”
“Pasta sauce,” I admit, more than slightly horrified that I must smell and taste like vampire deterrent.
He kisses me again, then pulls away. “I’m starving.” I guess he doesn’t mind.
I’m sad I’m wearing my plain home clothes and am not dressed in something a bit more…I don’t know, impressive. Meanwhile, he looks gorgeous in his dark blue jeans, scruffy and worn black boots, and black T-shirt. His hair looks windblown and effortless, and he’s got that stubble I love—which I can’t wait to feel between my legs. My sex clenches and body tingles in anticipation, because I’m determined to get what I want.
I look at Tony, who happens to be watching me with some serious shock, and give him an embarrassed smile. Ian has turned me into a whole new Kerri.
Lucky me. I guess we’re all going to have to get used to it.
“I take it you guys met?” I ask Ian, motioning toward Tony.
“Yes,” they say in unison.
“Perfect.”
I look at Ian and still can’t believe he’s standing in my kitchen. I honestly never believed I’d actually see him here. I guess Wylder was right. I can’t believe it. I’m the one who’s always guiding her through relationships, not the other way around. I’m the one who knows how to navigate the world of men and how to keep them on their toes—or at least that’s what I always thought.
Until I met a guy named Trouble…
“Tony, can you help our guest to some of the cabernet you just opened? I think Ian will like it.” I’m uncharacteristically polite and I even add a thank you for good measure. Tony better play along.
“Sure thing, honey.” Tony’s voice is laced with good deal of sarcasm, and he glances at Ian, who’s watching our interaction with fascination. “By the way, Ian—”
Uh oh.
“That’s the nicest way she’s ever asked me to do anything for her,” Tony says to my horror. “Ever. In all the years I’ve known her, and trust me, it’s been a really long time. It’s usually an order.”
I shouldn’t be surprised, but still. “Rude!” I point the spatula at him. Red sauce flies right off and hits the counter and floor.
“Truth hurts, kid.” Tony gives an exaggerated shrug that makes me want to murder him and make sure it’s extra torturous.
Ian chuckles. Awesome. This plays right into the spoiled princess theme he has going on in his head about me. I might as well continue to give him more ammunition, and because I just can’t help myself, I glower at Tony.
“Beelzebub,” I hiss.
“Evil queen,” he comes right back, totally unaffected.
I’m mortified Ian is seeing our banter the moment he walked in the house for the very first time. We usually wait a decent amount of time before we hurl insults at each other when we have guests. We like to ease the person in.
I force myself to look away from Tony’s annoying face and give Ian an awkward smile. I can tell he’s thoroughly amused. So I decide to pretend like the interaction between Tony and I never happened. I pick my wine glass off the counter and take a sip.
“We have a baguette, cheese, and an amazing balsamic I stole from Mom and Dad’s house.” I point at the small plate Tony had put together for us to munch on while I cooked. “Please help yourself.”
“Thanks,” Ian says
in appreciation and gets to it.
It’s impressive how much Ian can eat and still stay in such great shape. Tony hands Ian a glass of wine and he takes a long sip.
“Sorry about that, man.” Tony nods at me. If looks could kill, he’d be dead ten times over, but he continues. “I just couldn’t help myself. It was too much to let slide.”
“I can appreciate that,” Ian says in a serious voice, although I’m guessing he wants to laugh in Tony’s face. “And I respect your need to verbalize your feelings.”
Tony gives him a bro tap on the shoulder, and it takes all I have not to throw up in my mouth. Who is this guy?
“By the way, nice buy-out, man.” Tony lifts his glass to salute Ian, and I’m pretty sure my mouth is hanging open. “I read all about it—the way you navigated the offers. Pretty impressive stuff.”
“Thank you,” Ian replies graciously. “But as much as I’d like to take sole credit, I have an incredible team of advisors.”
“Sounds like you’re being modest,” Tony says. “Everything I read in the news points to you being the man leading the ship. You make all the decisions.”
I wonder if Tony did some cyber stalking on Ian.
“Well, I think we all know you shouldn’t believe everything you read in the papers or magazines,” Ian says dryly. “But in any case, thank you for the compliment.”
Tony takes a seat at the bar, and Ian leans against the counter and watches me cook. It’s a bit awkward for a second, and I’m glad the sauce is almost ready. That means I can put the pasta in the boiling water.
“Dinner will be ready shortly,” I tell them.
“Can’t wait.” Ian’s bright gaze lingers on my lips.
I feel myself flush and have to look away from his hot gaze. I’m sure Tony is feeling the vibe between us.
“How’d you two meet?” Tony is most definitely feeling the vibe. He tries to look innocent but fails miserably.
Of course he had to ask. I know what his dirty little mind is thinking—and he has every right to think of the club, but I thought we had covered this already.
“Restaurant,” Ian responds without flinching. “Il Pastaio.”
Nice save.
Tony should believe this since it’s my favorite restaurant, which he of course he knows because of all the time and money we’ve spent there over the years. And it sounds like Ian knows too…but he seems to know a whole lot about me. I think the only reason it doesn’t throw me so much is that my dad always runs background checks on people he wants to get into business with. So maybe Ian, who is equally as powerful, did some research on me the moment he knew he wanted something more with me. I can buy that.
And because it’s him, I’m okay with it.
“Huh.” Tony apparently believes the lie.
I pull the wedge of parmesan cheese from the fridge and grab the grater.
“What can I help with?” Ian sounds polite as heck.
“Nothing.” I give him a flirty smile. “Tony will get the plates and utensils, and then we were planning on sitting in the family room and eating in front of the TV.”
“You really hate a dining table, don’t you?” Ian laughs.
“We’re super informal. It’s a lot easier this way, trust me.” I shrug then lean forward to let him in on our big secret. “And it’s a special two-hour Bachelor.”
“Is that supposed to mean something to me?” He looks confused.
“Tony and I are addicted.” I throw my friend under the bus as well, but he doesn’t look the least bit embarrassed.
“It’s practically Shakespearean.” Tony’s voice is so solemn, I have to laugh.
After Ian gets over his moment of shock, he shakes his head. “Poor William must be rolling in his grave. You’re comparing his work to reality television?”
“Trust me, if he were alive, he’d be watching The Bachelor for inspiration.” I wink teasingly at Ian.
“That’s a bold statement.” He sounds almost concerned for me. “I guess I can’t wait to watch this masterpiece.”
“You’ve really never caught even part of an episode?” I study his face to see if he’s lying—wondering if he’s a secret closet fan.
“That’s a hard no,” Ian says.
“You’ve really been missing out,” I tell him matter-of-factly.
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
And then my legs have a mind of their own and I walk over to the wonderful man stand directly in front of him, lean up on my toes and place a chaste kiss on his lips.
It feels too good.
“Hello, handsome.” I look at him with a shy smile and link my hands behind my back.
I know he’s pleased because he can’t seem to stop himself from pulling me into his arms and giving me that kiss I’ve been dying to have since I left him last night. I don’t even care if Tony is watching—still, he’d be a creep if he was.
Ian cups my derriere with his large, awesome hand and pulls me nice and snug against his hard-as-a-rock cock. I think I moan. Loudly. I don’t want to eat anymore. Or even watch The Bachelor. I just want to go to bed with this man. He’s all the sustenance I need.
The kiss deepens, our mouths practically fused together and I still can’t get enough. I don’t think I ever will.
“Dammit.” Ian pulls away from me as if he’s finally realized where we are and that we could have an audience. “You make me forget everything.”
I can’t stop my smile. “I’m glad.”
Ian looks kind of annoyed. It must be a power thing for him.
He takes what’s left of the cheese plate and baguette into the family room, where Tony is putting on our show—hopefully he missed our little moment of passion. I mix the pasta and sauce together and hope they’ll like it.
Thirty minutes later, they’ve finished every last noodle. With our bellies full of pasta and wine, Ian and I are cuddled on one side of my U-shaped couch and Tony is on the other, all of us glued to the special two-hour episode of The Bachelor. Even though Ian keeps making snide comments and laughing at the show, I think he’s kind of into it. He’s pretty focused on the drama between the cast, and he actually listens every time Tony gives some backstory. Ian’s even asked a few questions.
“Just admit you’re enjoying yourself,” I tell him during a commercial break.
Ian’s gaze flicks possessively over my face, the look in his eyes indecipherable. “Of course I’m enjoying myself—”
My smile is triumphant.
“I’m with you.” He knows how to knock the breath right out of me. He looks at his empty plate and sighs. “And this dish is incredible. Everything you’ve ever made me is excellent. I think you should forget about this entertainment thing and open your own restaurant. I’ll pay for it.”
“Not a bad idea,” Tony chimes in, cocking his head as if the thought has merit. “I have to agree with him. You do know how to cook. And it’s the only time you really ever seem—” Tony stops mid sentence as if he’s caught doing something bad.
“Seem what?” I ask.
He looks like a deer in headlights.
“Tony,” I persist.
“Free.” He shrugs. “Happy. Really happy.”
The compliment gives me pause. Ian puts his hand on my back, reassuring me.
“Thank you,” I say.
Like a chameleon, Tony goes from looking nervous to relieved to mischievous all in twenty seconds. “After you open your restaurant, you can have your own reality show. Come up with some angle. We’ll make a line of pots and pans, sauces, clothes…you name it, we’ll do it. And I’ll be your agent.”
“Reality show?” Ian sounds as though he’s tasted something foul. I guess he doesn’t like Tony’s idea.
I ignore Ian and cock a brow at Tony. “Who said you could be my agent?”
“No one else would sign you.” He looks slightly offended—even though he shouldn’t, considering our relationship.
“You’re barely an assistant,” I point out.
“Not for long.” He sounds too arrogant.
“Play for pay?” I lift a teasing brow.
Tony gives me a fake, broad smile and a death glare. Score one for Kerri. Looks like I hit a little cougar nerve.
I decide to let him off the hook. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t want to be a reality star. That’s not in my future.”
I’m pretty sure I ease Ian’s crazy caveman mind because his body visibly relaxes.
“Even though it kills me to say this, you’d make bank.” From the look on Tony’s face, I can tell that was painful for him.
I try not to laugh, but I feel Ian tense up again and his body language definitely has a not so happy feel. I need to shoot Tony down.
“I know you already have bank because of good old Dad, but you’ll make your own bank,” Tony continues, not realizing he’s pissing Ian off even more.
“How did we go from Ian suggesting I open a restaurant to becoming a reality star?” I ask.
“All in a Hollywood minute, baby. Anything’s possible.” Tony flashes me an over-the-top agenty smile, then flutters his lashes. “Don’t you want to be a star?”
Before I can tell him how horrified I am by the idea, Ian throws a pillow at Tony’s face, his aim perfect. He completely takes Tony off guard, and it seems like it was kind of hard because Tony falls right over.
“She’s not going to be a reality star.”
It sounds like a decree from God.
Before I can chime in, the show comes back on and we’re all sucked into the drama, my reality debut completely forgotten. In the end, when the rose ceremony comes and goes, I’m pretty sure Ian is a closet fan for life—and I’ll even let him lie about it, if he wants. I think I might be able to convince him to watch an episode with me next week.
Tony’s phone rings when the credits roll and he takes the call, waving goodbye at us before leaving the family room. I can’t help but notice how his voice turns all low and mysterious, so I’m assuming it’s the cougar. I greatly anticipate teasing him about it tomorrow.