quiet as he studied the wound. Amazingly, his touch was even more gentle than before. Between the featherlight contact and his breath blowing warm at the base of her throat, Chloe found herself fighting not to break out in a warm shiver.
“You already have a scar,” he said after a moment.
“Took a header going in for a layup. College ball,” she added for clarification.
“A six-foot-tall woman playing basketball. There’s a stereotype.”
“Six feet and a half inch, thank you very much.” She lowered her chin, a mistake, since she found herself nose to nose with him. The shiver she’d been fighting broke free. “And playing ball helped pay for school.”
“Lucky you.”
“Suppose that’s one way of looking at things.” If you call being born with pterodactyl-length arms lucky. “I didn’t really have a choice.”
“We all have a choice,” he said.
“What does that mean?”
Busy pawing his way through the bandages, Ian didn’t answer right away. “Exactly the way it sounds. We always have a choice. We don’t always make the right ones.”
“You can say that again,” she replied. “I’ve made enough bad decisions to qualify as an expert.”
“Nonsense, you’re just a baby. Talk to me when you’ve made as many mistakes as I have.” He tore open a Band-Aid. “Then you can call yourself an expert.”
Chloe recalled her thoughts this morning, about whether Ian had battled karma. Apparently he had, although not as victoriously as she’d supposed.
“All done,” he announced, stepping back. He was referring to bandaging her cut, but intuition told her he meant the conversation, as well. The abrupt end left her as unsettled as his touch.
Made her wonder if she wasn’t dancing around a mistake herself.
CHAPTER THREE
“DO YOU LIE to everyone you meet, or did I win some special kind of prize?”
Engrossed in letter writing, Ian almost missed the question. He looked up to find Chloe towering over his table. She’d dressed for dramatic effect today, with her hair pulled back and a pair of large sunglasses accentuating both her cheekbones and her bandaged chin. Instantly, the memory of her skin beneath his fingers sent awareness rolling through him, and he had to squeeze his pen to keep from reaching out to touch her again. She was too attractive for her own good. The type of woman the old Ian would have pursued with a passion. Wined her, dined her and charmed those boots right off. On second thought, he’d charm off everything but the boots.
Damn the conscience that came with sobriety.
“Would you mind starting the conversation again?” he asked her. “I missed the beginning.”
“Ian Black Technologies.”
Ah. His not-so-secret identity. “Someone’s been playing on the internet.” He wondered how long it would take for her to dig up his story.
“Your name sounded familiar, so I went online to find out why, and there you were, larger than life. Ian Black, technology entrepreneur extraordinaire.”
“Extraordinaire’s a pretty strong word. More like a guy who had the right idea at the right time. Still doesn’t explain how I lied to you.”
Her sunglasses rose and fell, signaling an arched eyebrow or two. “You said you owned a coffee shop.”
“I do.”
“Conveniently leaving out the part about the global defense company. A lie of omission is still a lie.”
“Maybe I like keeping a low profile.” The sunglasses moved again; an eye roll this time, he suspected. “Besides, I didn’t omit anything. Or didn’t you read the part where I got kicked out of my own company?”
“My ad agency works with a lot of large companies. CEOs get replaced all the time. Corporate politics, change in culture. Doesn’t alter the fact you’re hardly as down-and-out as you led me to believe.”
Fascinating. She might the first woman he’d ever met who was annoyed because he was rich. She was also terribly naive if she thought his eviction was solely because of politics or culture change. “If you work in advertising, you know there’s also such a thing as corporate spin. Believe me, I earned my ouster.” Given how bad things got, he was lucky he’d held his office as long as he did. “As for the omission...I already apologized for misleading you. Defense contracting is part of my past. I prefer to focus on fixing my present.”
“Fixing?” she asked.
“Told you, I made a lot of mistakes.” He pointed with his chin at the two paper cups in her hand. “One of those mine?”
A blush made its way up those cheekbones, adding a shade of pink to the tawny color. “Apparently I didn’t learn my lesson last night.”
“Last night was sweet.”
“Don’t you mean naive?”
“Never apologize for doing something nice. So was buying coffee today.” Regardless of whether he owned the place or not. “Besides, profits are always appreciated.” He motioned for her to sit down.
“I wanted to do something to thank you for saving me,” she said, settling into the place across from him. “I thought about buying you a new sweatshirt, but that was when I learned you were a big-time tycoon.”
“Meaning I can buy my own.”
“Meaning you could buy me one.”
Ian laughed. She was a spunky one.
“From the looks of things, I’m going to assume you made it home okay, too.”
“More than okay. I’ve never had a police escort before.”
“I have,” he told her. “Although they weren’t as friendly.” Nor did any of them check out his legs the way Officer Kent did hers.
“You didn’t need to ask him.”
Yes, he did. Curlilocks might put on a good show, but she wasn’t as tough as she liked people to believe. Beneath all the spunk and saucy comments lurked a whole lot of vulnerability. If you looked close enough, you could see it flashing behind her eyes. Lord knows, he’d looked close enough last night. Exactly why he had asked the police officer to take her home. Talking, touching her....he’d pushed his luck far enough. For a man who hadn’t been with a woman in over a year, taking her home would have been way too tempting. He had enough mistakes to fix without throwing into the mix a one-night stand with a woman just out of a bad relationship.
“Don’t sweat it,” he said. “Part of the perks of being semi-famous is you feel okay asking the police for favors.”
“No, I meant he’d already offered.”
Oh.
