pull me tighter against him, and he was so warm and delicious—
“Come on upstairs,” I whispered, and taking his hand, led him to my room, shutting it before Bowie could come in. “Go sleep on Noah’s bed,” I told my dog through the crack, and he whined, but then trotted off.
My room was dark except for the moonlight spilling in the eastern-facing windows. Ian stood, waiting, looking at me. I slipped off my shoes. “Have a seat,” I whispered. He went toward the bed, but I took his hand, stopping him. “Have a seat,” I repeated, pointing to the Morelock chair.
Ian looked at it, then back at me. My heart thumped. I gave a little nod, then bit my lip as Ian walked over to the chair. He sat down, his hands on the smooth, carved arms. God, he looked good there! As if reading my mind, he smiled, and my heart lurched toward him.
“Come here,” he said, and I obeyed, sitting on Ian’s lap. The chair didn’t protest, having been made by the master, and Ian slid his arms around me, rocking gently, his cheek against my neck, against my throbbing pulse. We just sat like that for a long moment, wrapped around each other in the Morelock chair, my fingers smoothing Ian’s soft blond hair, tracing the lines that fanned out around his eyes. Then Ian’s hand moved up, and he unbuttoned my shirt slowly, kissing the exposed skin. My hands went to the thick, hard muscles of his shoulders, that sweet, melting feeling spreading through me as he slowly pushed my shirt off my shoulders, his fingers tracing the lace of my bra. When our lips met, the mood changed, suddenly hot and urgent and hungry. Ian scooped me up and stood, the chair gliding silently as he rose and carried me to bed, the moonlight pure and bright and perfect, the only noise from the wind and the two of us, together, the soft and gentle sounds of two people falling in love.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“GOOD MORNING,” IAN said the next day as I staggered into the kitchen. My legs were still a little weak from all that happiness. Bowie crooned me a morning song, and I petted his big furry head.
“Hi,” I said to both my guys.
“Would you like some coffee?” he asked, already opening a cupboard for a mug from the mishmash selection therein.
“Sure,” I answered.
“Last night was incredible.” He smiled at me, and my heart practically rolled over onto its back, like Bowie offering himself up.
“Yes, it was,” I said, grinning back.
Ian poured me some joe, then added cream and sugar. “Even though you’re already so sweet,” he said, stirring the coffee.
“Oh, my God. Are you flirting?” I asked.
“This is what I get for trying,” he grumbled. But his eyes were happy.
Just then his cell phone rang. Ian glanced at the screen. His face froze. Laura? I wondered. We hadn’t talked about her since the wedding … He picked up the receiver. “Hi, Jane.”
I went on full alert. Could it be his aunt?
“I’m fine, and you?” Ian said, not looking at me. “Okay. Great. Sure. Seven o’clock. Do you need directions? Okay. See you then.” He closed his phone and stared at the counter for a second. I waited, not saying anything. My patience was rewarded.
“That was my aunt,” he said. “She’s in Boston and wants to come up and have dinner tonight.”
“Great,” I said, nodding. “Is Alejandro coming?” I couldn’t resist saying that with a full-blown Spanish accent, and Ian gave a little smile.
“No, just Jane.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, his smile fading. “Would you like to meet her?” he asked.
“Yes! Absolutely!” I said. “Want me to cook?”
“No, no. That’s fine. I’ll pick something up.”
“Ian, you can’t give her dinner from some store. Would she rather eat out? We could go to Elements. Dave would treat us like royalty.”
“She doesn’t believe in restaurants. Too much waste.”
“Oh. Well, then I’ll cook. I’d be happy to, okay?”
He took a deep breath. “Callie,” he said slowly. “I know you’re going to try to make a good impression and do your thing—”
“My thing?” I asked.
“Make her your new best friend.”
I snorted. “Ian, I don’t try … people just like me. Because I’m so nice, remember?”
“I do. But she won’t like you.”
That gave me pause. “Why?”
He squinted. “She’s … a very passionate person, and … well, she doesn’t really approve of me, and she’ll think you’re … uh …” He winced.
“Okay, forget me for a second. How can she not approve of you?” I asked. “You’re her nephew, her brother’s boy. I’ll bet she adores you.”
He took a sip of his coffee. “She wanted me to become a doctor, and the fact that I didn’t is tough for her.”
“Well, I’m sure she’s very proud of you anyway, Ian,” I said, giving him a hug. “You’re so smart! And so handsome! And you have all those special skills, like making dogs love you and killing people with your little finger—”
“You’re babbling,” he said, but there was a smile in his voice.
“Well, whatever the case may be, I’ll make dinner, okay? Give me your key, and I’ll come over and get everything ready, and it will be wonderful. Is she a vegetarian?”
“Vegan, I’m afraid.”
“So tofu it is. I can do tofu.” I kissed him on the cheek. “Don’t worry. We’ll have fun.”
TWELVE HOURS LATER, we were not having fun.
My first impression had been good—I watched as Ian greeted his aunt on the driveway, giving her a hug, which she returned. She held his face in her hands and smiled hugely … the Look how you’ve grown thing I did on an almost daily basis with Bronte and Josephine. See? I mentally told my honey. She’s crazy about you.
And then they came in, and the impression started to head south.
“Jane, this is Callie Grey,” Ian said. “Callie, my aunt Jane.”
“I wasn’t aware you were seeing anyone, Ian,” his aunt said, glancing at him as if startled.
“It’s so nice to meet you, Dr. McFarland,” I said, smiling. She was small and very lean, pleasant face, gray hair, somewhere in her late sixties. “Ian’s told me a lot about you.”
“Mmm,” she said. She wandered into the great room, taking a look around. “So, Ian, this is your home. My, my. Very … expensive-looking.”
