by Stacy Gail
“What about tattoos?”
She glared at him, confused by the flash of calculation she thought she glimpsed in his expression. “What about them?”
“You and I do a set of tats, subject matter is your choice, as well as the number of tattoos in the set. We put our work out there for the world to judge.”
What?
“Since this is an idea hatched on House Of Payne grounds, I’m putting in the stipulation that all tattoos created between the two of you, Tag and Ivy Gemelli, are exclusive to House Of Payne.” Well and truly getting into it, Payne rubbed his hands together and started looking like that carny barker she’d thought of when she’d first laid eyes on him. Only this time she could see the razor’s edge behind his smile, and knew without a doubt she’d somehow landed herself in a world of trouble. “Once we’ve ironed out the details of this battle between two of Chicago’s finest urban artists, we’ll get the details to all of you. But for now, this press conference has concluded.”
Chapter Six
“I wasn’t sure what I was seeing when I saw you on TV.” Mouth tight, Ji handed Ivy a wooden bowl filled with one of Ivy’s favorite Korean dishes, bibimbap. Literally translated to “mixed rice,” it was basically a party in a bowl, and every Korean family made it differently. Under the Dao roof, bibimbap meant leftover steamed sticky rice on the bottom, garlicky poached spinach, ginger-glazed julienne carrots, bean sprouts and shiitake mushrooms sautéed in sesame oil and pear juice, thin strips of melt-in-your-mouth marinated flank steak called bulgogi, and at the center, a sunny-side egg with a wet yolk. When she’d first moved in with the Dao family, Ivy had been hesitant to try the many exotic dishes that came out of Ji’s kitchen, but now she knew better. More than that, she was grateful she had an internationally-trained palate that enjoyed Asian and Middle Eastern food just as much as she enjoyed food from her more boring Italian-American roots. “You were the wronged party, Ivy. It was your art that was stolen. Yet you were the one who was made to bow her head and apologize. Now they squeeze you for your time and your talent to profit off you, when you already have a full-time job at the family’s salon and a rooftop garden to finish. I thought I raised you with more backbone. More fire.”
“It was the fire that got me into trouble in the first place.” Wielding her chopsticks like a pro, Ivy stabbed the egg yolk and mixed it up with the rice, sprouts and carrots. “And they’re not going to be taking up a huge chunk of my time. I won’t miss any work at the salon.”
That didn’t seem to mollify Ji in the least. “People come for miles around to have their nails done by you. People count on you to be there. I count on you to be there. Tell her, Kang.”
Kang-Won Dao, Minnie’s father and a man who had been in Ivy’s life for as long as she could remember, gave her a bland look. “Listen to whatever Ji-Ji says, Ivy. ‘Course, I don’t know what she was saying, because I tuned her out five minutes ago.”
“Kang, bad people are taking advantage of our Ivy, and you just sit there eating your food and drinking your beer.” Clearly upset, Ji handed Minnie her bowl, then Hyun, who sat a respectful foot away from Minnie. That was laughable, since they’d spent the better part of the afternoon hidden away in Ivy’s apartment while Ivy had finished the hydrangeas up on the roof. “Ivy, it was a blessing when we were able to take you in after your uncle’s death, have I ever told you that? A blessing.”
Losing the last of her family to a hail of bullets and an arsonist’s blaze at her uncle’s custom auto paint shop hadn’t felt like a blessing. It had felt like gang violence of the highest order, most likely the Yard Kings, but Ivy decided not to point that out at this juncture. “That’s a sweet thing to say, Mama Ji.”
“I say it because it’s the truth. We were honored to give you a roof over your head. We were honored to give you a good paying job that’s led to many other opportunities for you. And because you’re such a tenderhearted girl who is so very talented, you’ve given us just as much, if not more, by becoming an irreplaceable part of this family. Never once have I felt disappointment in the daughter I’m looking at now, the daughter of my heart. Until today.”
“A loving mother’s guilt trip is nothing compared to a loving Korean mother’s guilt trip.” Hyun looked like he was trying hard not to laugh as he shoveled food into his mouth. Then he flinched and slanted Minnie a dirty look, an obvious sign that he’d just been on the receiving end of an under-the-table kick. “I mean, you should listen to the wisdom she’s trying to give you, Ivy.”
“Mama Ji, I won’t miss work,” Ivy tried again, fiddling with her chopsticks. “I got the email today from House Of Payne on how it’s all supposed to work. Throughout this month, I create one tattoo design per week, with a subject matter that’s decided by the guy who owns the place, Sebastian Payne. Once we turn our designs in, people vote for them online. I’m ready to get my butt handed to me because no one knows my name and everyone knows Tag’s, but I don’t care. I’m going to do this because I feel I owe both him and Tag.”
“Owe them?” Ji slapped her serving spoon down none too gently in its rest on the stove before she took her seat at the table. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. You’re too naïve to see that they’re the ones who owe you. Are you even going to get paid for all the designs they’re forcing you to produce?”
“If they’re not paying, I’m not playing.”
“Wait a minute, young lady.” Kang paused in eating to frown at her. “You’re saying you don’t know how much they’re going to pay you?”
She shook her head. “It didn’t say in the email, but I’m not stupid. I won’t sign on the dotted line if I don’t have a set payment per design clearly spelled out in the contract.”
“Good girl.” With a satisfied nod, he resumed picking his way through his bowl. “If they think they’re going to try to pull a fast one, they don’t know who they’re dealing with. All the Daos will stand with you on this, you can bet on that, kiddo.”
“The world takes advantage of the sensitive, creative soul.” Clicking her tongue in irritation, Ji seemed like she was at last going to take her first bite of dinner, then tossed her chopsticks back down in a fit of pique. “I did nails in my aunt’s salon from the age of twelve, did you know that? My father’s sister. God, I hated that woman. She never paid me a single penny until I graduated high school, so you know what that made me? Her slave. She saw talent in me, but you know what she also saw? Weakness. I don’t want that for you, Ivy. I won’t have that for you. You and Minnie must always breathe fire, do you understand me? You must let the world know that you’re dragons. You let them know you will burn your enemies to ash right where they stand if they dare to even think they can take advantage of you.”
Lord above, Ji was a treasure. “I understand,” Ivy whispered, reaching over for her hand. “I’ll burn the world down before I allow someone make a fool of me.”
Ji’s ferocious scowl softened with the beginnings of a smile. Before she could say another word, however, a loud knock on the door beyond the Dao apartment boomed clearly around the room.
“What the…” From his seat at the table, Kang looked through the living room toward the front door. “Is that coming from your place, Ivy?”
“Uh, maybe.” With a feeling she told herself was irritation and not anticipation, she pushed to her feet. “I’ll check.”
Ivy set a new overland speed record journeying from the Dao apartment to her own, then struggled not to pant like a dog she came up on Tag standing outside her door. Panting, though, was hard not to do, and not just because of her sudden sprint. With his long, well-built body encased in great-fitting jeans and another short-sleeved compression shirt, this time in red, she had to admit he looked even more delicious than her bowl of bibimbap. Silently she sent up thanks that Ji had insisted she trade her grungy work clothes for a pink and white hibiscus sundress for dinner. That gratitude skyrocketed when Tag turned at her approach, and his unguarded expression filled with a heady
mixture of surprise and raw male appreciation.
“I’m not in there,” she stated the obvious as she closed the distance between them. “I was having dinner over at the Daos and learning how to breathe fire. That way I can turn my enemies to ash.”
“Ash, huh?” A dark brow inched up. “Is that a metaphor or something?”
“Nope. Remember the lady with the bat from hell at Clawsome? She’s teaching her daughter Minh and me how to be fierce.”
“You don’t need lessons, you’re naturally gifted.” He gestured at the closed door. “This your place?”
She put her hands in the dress’s panel pockets, but otherwise didn’t move. “Yup. That’s it right there.”
He waited a beat. “You gonna let me in?”
“How’d you get into the building?” The very thought of being alone with him made her heart try to jackhammer its way out of her chest, so she tried to find calm by playing it cool.
“Your landlord let me in. Nice guy, once you get to know him.”
She snorted. “You mean Mr. Elwood is terrified of you, so he’ll let you do whatever you want.”
“Like I said, nice guy. Are you going to invite me in, or are we going to stand in the hall like a couple of idiots who’ve got nothing better to do?”
Feigning reluctance, she sighed and slowly made her way to her door, pulling the key out of her pocket as she went. “I guess it’s a good thing I was pretty much done with dinner. Have you ever had bibimbap?”
“Did you just make up a word?”
So there was that answer. “It’s excellent. When my uncle died, the Dao family took me in. I learned a lot of things my first year with them, from how to do a perfect manicure over at Clawsome, to making a mean bowl of bibimbap. You don’t know what you’re missing.”
“I’m a microwave dinner kind of guy, so I’ll just take your word for it.”
“No exotic stuff for you, then?” She pushed the door open and led the way into her apartment. Along with the faintest scent of the white paint she’d covered her walls in the week before, she immediately caught a whiff of sex and coconut oil. The sex she understood, since Minnie and Hyun had spent hours hiding out in her place while she worked on the roof, but she was at a loss at where the coconut was coming from. “That’s kind of boring. My dad was Italian, my mom was Egyptian, and in my late teens I was raised by Koreans. Microwave meals never made it onto the menu, at least without an exotic twist.”
“I’m open to exotic.” He looked around, and she could only imagine what his thoughts were. Her walls were currently a stark, empty white, with most of the furniture pulled toward the center of the room. She’d never had a lot of furniture to begin with—a futon-style sofa, a boxy armchair, a beautiful three-paneled screen she’d picked up in Chinatown and a ton of floor pillows and rugs with a Middle Eastern flair. Various framed works of her own art and certificates leaned against the wall in the miniscule entryway, and the last rays of the sun beamed into the room thanks the bare, unadorned windows that framed the corner of her apartment. “You moving soon?”
“No, I’m just getting ready for a redo on the walls. Inspiration hasn’t struck yet, but I want to be ready when it does.”
“You don’t know what you want to do, but you’re set up for it anyway?”
“Yeah.” With a smile of anticipation, she looked around as well. “Just look at all that blank, gorgeous wall space. Isn’t that the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen?”
“Usually I’d say yeah, but these days something else has snagged my attention.” He wandered to the kitchenette and looked down at the peninsula-style counter. “Wanna explain why you have a box of condoms in the kitchen?”
“What? Oh, my God.” Mortified, a red-hot flush hit her from the top of her head all the way down to her knees, and she hustled over to see. Sure enough, a raggedly torn-open box of condoms was on the counter, with a couple spilled out. An empty packet was also on the counter, and she was too terrified to look around out of fear that she might find what had once been inside of it. “I’ll kill them.”
“Who?”
“I mean, who has sex in the kitchen? It’s a kitchen. No one has sex in a kitchen. It’s unsanitary, and there are burny, sharp things in a kitchen. It could be dangerous. You have sex in the bedroom. Everyone knows this.”
“Call me crazy, but I’m thinking you don’t know the term exotic can be used for things other than food.” He picked up the box and examined the front. “So, these aren’t yours?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but no.” She kept a box of condoms where they belonged—by the bed, in the freaking bedroom.
“Good.”
“What? Good?” Distracted from her horrified inspection of her kitchen counter, she looked up at him in confusion. “Why good?”
“Two points. First, because those condoms don’t reflect your personal preference when it comes to size.”
This conversation was getting weirder by the moment. “My personal preference? Just…what?”
He nodded at the box. “Those condoms are snug-to-regular.”
“Uh. Okay.” Blankly she glanced at the torn box. “Not that I want to prolong this particular conversation, but I feel I have to point out the obvious. Condoms are supposed to be snug.” That was the point of them.
“Let me put it another way. No guy’s gonna buy a box that says small or petite. So some clever advertiser came up with a certain kind of phrasing—like snug—to save the smaller guy’s pride.”
Oh. “Well, I guess that explains why Minnie’s got a couple side pieces going on besides Hyun, if this is his, um…size.” Then she clamped her eyes shut and slapped her hands over them for good measure. “Oh, man. How am I ever going to look Hyun in the eye again, knowing he’s a freaking snug?”
“That’s easy. Don’t think about another man’s junk. It’s got nothing to do with you.”
“It has everything to do with me. It’s in my kitchen.”
“I’m in your kitchen.” Strong fingers curled around the hands over her eyes to peel them away, and suddenly he was the only thing she could see. “If we’re going by your logic, that means I’ve got everything to do with you, too. Which is cool, because that brings me to my second point.”
Holy freaking cats, they were still talking about this? “Second point? About what?”
“About those rubbers. Can’t say I was exactly thrilled to come in here to find another dude’s shit, so here’s the deal. From this point on, the only condoms in this apartment are going to be mine. I’ll buy them, because I’m particular and I know what I like.”
“Wha…?” Before she could make her stunned brain create an actual word, Tag pulled her toward him with the hands he still held, and kissed her.
When he’d kissed her during the press conference it had only been a brush, a nanosecond of contact designed to shut her up.
This was nothing like that.
His mouth sealed over hers as though he had every right to do so. The audacity alone rocked the floor under her feet, but when he moved to pin her between his big body and the counter, a wildfire of heat exploded inside her. That heat seemed to weld them together, and it took her a while to realize her arms had wrapped themselves around his waist, while one of his hands raked through her hair to cup the back of her head, pressing her deeper into the kiss. She told herself it was that pressure that opened her mouth to the heart-stopping sweep of his tongue, and not her eagerly welcoming this new intimacy.
But deep down, she knew the truth.
She wanted this.
No.
It was more than that.
She’d craved this from the moment she’d seen him staring at her like she was the only thing he could see when she’d ripped open her shirt. Though she hadn’t consciously put it into words at the time, that fixed intensity she’d seen in his eyes had been the sexiest damn thing she’d ever experienced.
Until now.
The kiss felt like sex—hot and penetr
ating and wild. Which would be great, if it weren’t happening with a man she hardly knew. And forget about all the trouble he’d given her. From the moment she’d crossed paths with him, she’d lost control of her life.
Without even trying, he turned her world upside down.
She had no idea what to do with that.
Her hands had been moving hungrily over his back, as if part of her wanted to memorize every dip and hollow of him. That probably explained why she had to consciously will them to gently but firmly push him away, and when his lips left hers she had no choice but to quietly acknowledge she felt that loss right down to the juncture of her thighs.
Wow.
“So…kissing.” As a conversation starter, it was the best she could do with a partially melted brain.
“Kissing and touching and tasting.” His hand was still in her hair, and with it he guided her to turn her face back to his. “It’s as good a place to start as any, don’t you think?”
She was almost afraid to ask. “Start what?”
“You and me.” His attention wandered once more to her mouth, before his eyes moved back to hers. “The start of us.”
“Us.” She had to repeat the word to cover how his statement rattled her, and she eased out of his arms completely so she could think. “Okay, I need to clarify something, so bear with me. There’s a you, and there’s a me. We’re volatile enough without becoming an us.”
“You make it sound like volatility’s a bad thing.”
“Because it is.”
“So says the woman who got so pissed off she flashed all of Chicago with her amazing boobs just to make a point.”
