Just because it was ten didn’t mean that today was tomorrow, as
in the day after last night. The last time I had a hangover was at my aunt’s wedding. Five years ago. At least then I was with Olivia, and we’d gotten crazy together.
I slipped off the bed and looked around for my purse but couldn’t find it.
I wanted my phone so I could check what day it was.
I padded across to the door when the aroma of fried bacon tickled my nose. When I opened the door, the smell hit me and reminded me of being at home with my parents on a Sunday morning. Mama would make a big breakfast before church, and we’d eat together as a family.
The aroma made me miss my parents.
The aroma also made me realize in an instant that someone was here.
I made my way downstairs and heard shuffling in the kitchen. Shuffling, utensils moving around, and what I thought sounded like the news on TV. Sports news.
Football.
Was Ivan still here?
I got to the kitchen door and froze when I saw him standing at the stove, cooking. I would have taken the time to admire the smell of what he was cooking some more if the man didn’t steal my breath away.
Normal Ivan was hot. I gave credit where it was due, always. I knew my nemesis was hot right from the first time I laid eyes on him.
Seeing him shirtless in my kitchen was a whole other story.
Shirtless and showing off the intricate artwork of the tattoos on his muscular back.
A big inky black dragon took up the whole midsection. Then there were some characters that looked Japanese, but then they could have been Arabic.
One swirled from the edge of his shoulder to the base of his neck.
A duplicate of it was on his hip and disappeared just beyond the waistband of his pants that hung low on his hips.
“You just gonna stand there ogling me, Goddess Jada?”
His voice interrupted my thoughts and snapped me back to reality.
My first instinct was to take on the defensive and ask him what he was doing here. I knew I couldn’t do that though, especially since if not for him, I could have been lying in a ditch somewhere, or raped, or something awful like that.
He turned to me and smiled. I gasped when I saw the massive black and blue bruise on his nose and his left eye.
“Oh my God.” I rushed up to him as if I could really do anything to help.
“Don’t worry. I hear bruises carry a manlier look. It reminds people of a time of war. Viking times,” he joked.
“Did you use ice or something? I have some cream my mom always put on bruises when I was little.” I turned to go look for it, but he caught my arm.
“I’m okay. This is nothing; plus, I already iced it. The bruise makes it look worse than it actually is,” he assured me.
“I’m so sorry. I really am. It shouldn’t have happened.” I shook my head.
“Well, sometimes needs must. Who knows what would have happened to you if I hadn’t stepped in?” He gave me a pensive stare.
“Thank you. I can’t thank you enough. I owe you big time.”
“Yes, and I’ll find a way for you to repay me.” He winked.
I was just starting to think this was the most normal conversation we’d had, and he had to remind me that we weren’t like this.
“You’re here still and making me breakfast.”
“Making you hangover food. It’s a hoot and a half in France.” He stepped aside and showed me the frying pan that was a mixture of scrambled eggs, bacon, and red peppers. It looked amazing.
“That looks fantastic. France?”
“I’m half French. My mom is French. My parents moved there a couple of years back to start a restaurant. This is one of my mom’s special recipes. It’s her spin on Oeufs Mollets À La Crécy. The red peppers replace the traditional use of carrots, which I hate.”
I liked the way he sounded when he spoke French.
“It sounds amazing, but you didn’t have to do this.” My gaze dropped to the taut planes of his abs and the Celtic tattoo across his stomach.
“And miss out on the chance for you to ogle all this?” He rested the lifter on the frying pan and spread his arms out on either side, giving me a good look of the masterpiece of him.
My head ached like nothing else, but I had to laugh.
“I’m not ogling,” I protested.
“Right, at least I can be honest with myself.” He raised his brows, then looked me over, purposefully slow and seductive, starting from the tips of my toes right up my legs, which I was showing far too much of in this long T-shirt that stopped at the edge of my thighs, then up to my breasts, where he paused.
I had to smack him in his chest to get him to stop. My fingers, however, came in contact with the truly tight surface of his skin, and the devil he was, knowing the effect he had on me, reached up and kept my hand there.
“You are crazy. Give me back my hand.”
“No, and don’t worry, Goddess. Feel free to touch whatever part of me you wish.”
I widened my eyes and started laughing. I couldn’t believe I was laughing, and with him.
“Are you always like this?”
“Yes, mademoiselle.”
“How many more names are you going to find for me?”
“Whatever suits, and whatever makes you look at me like that.” He brought my hand up to his lips and kissed it. “Now that we’re sleeping together, I have more freedom with you, and you can do whatever you want to me.”
I pulled my hand back. “We’re not sleeping together.”
“Denial, that’s never good, Dr. Dane. I woke up in your bed this morning, with you next to me, baby. I’d say that counts as sleeping together. It was sad we were fully clothed, but give it time.”
“Time?” I chuckled.
“Yes, time, and trust me, it’ll be worth the wait, unless you want to go now? I’m game either way.” He tried to reach for me, but I swatted his hands away and backed away from him.
We both started to laugh, but then we stopped. It was like reality seeped in. For me anyway.
I gazed up at him, trying to figure him out. It was like the guy who wrote all the articles to hurt me and the one who stood in front of me making me laugh were two different people.
He looked at me too, and I could tell there was a shift in his mood by the softness in his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he suddenly said, holding my gaze and holding my attention in the moment. “I’m sorry, Jada.”
“What for?” My voice shook as I spoke.
“All of it. You were right. I’m a jerk. I was a complete asshole in the way I conducted myself, and I shouldn’t have taken things that far. My articles were… completely out of line.”
I folded my arms under my breasts and simply stared at him wondering if I’d heard him right.
“Really? You really think so?” It was a shock, because all those articles were written with very strong opinions of me.
“I got the wrong impression of you. I thought you were something else. We may be different in the way we approach our methods, but I was out of line, and I used my influence at L.A. Times to put myself in the run to beat you.”
“Well, I guess the lure of a multimillion project is reason enough, right? All that money. Then there’s what could come after.”
He shook his head. “I could have found a better way. I didn’t intend to hurt you so much. It was me being the meathead I used to be when I played football, playing dirty sometimes to get what I want.” He glanced over at the TV.
I saw now it was highlights from the Super Bowl.
“Did you retire?” I asked, returning my gaze to him.
He shook his head. “No, I would have played forever if I got the chance to. Been playing for as long as I could walk. There was a car accident, and I couldn’t play anymore to the standard an NFL team would need.”
An accident. It was said to hear something like that had happened to him.
“I’m so sorry that happened.” I couldn’t imagine how he must have felt.
“It’s okay. I learned that there’s more than one thing we can be good at in this life.”
“Was that how you found psychology?” I didn’t know many football players who would have played in the NFL who’d turned into therapists. Usually, it was something to do with the NFL or football in general. Coaching, scouting, working with a team in some way.
He was unique.
“It was my roundabout way. My story is… Well, it’s a story.” He looked down for a minute, then back to me. “How about we eat, and we can start over on the right foot? I can tell you how much better my methods are than yours, and exactly why I’ll beat you.”
“Oh my gosh, you are like the biggest ass ever.”
“Goddess, if we’re talking ass, I have to say I really love yours.”
I shook my head at him again. “Whatever, your methods are not going to beat mine. They aren’t better.”
“We’re gonna see about that.” He winked and turned back to the stove.
Chapter 11
Jada
* * *
A combo of the most amazing food I’d ever had in my life and some Tylenol had me feeling more like myself in twenty minutes.
We sat in the sitting room eating and talking.
We actually sat like a couple of grown adults talking about our methods. Talking and disagreeing.
“You want to turn people into saps.” I pointed my fork at him.
He’d started elaborating on his three-step method to meeting new people and having a good relationship.
He’d given me the first rule the other day, and that was what he’d delved into first, and he hadn’t managed to move past it.
Never give up on what you want?
“I am so not. Jada, not giving up on what you want opens the floor for you to think about whether the person you’re interested in suits you. It’s heaps better than vetting someone like you would for an interview,” he answered, pointing his fork at me now.
“How?” I failed to see how. “Sometimes, the people we meet seem like the people we want to be with, but they aren’t.” That was me speaking from experience.
“Baby, do you know what you want to do in the next two years?”
“Yes, I absolutely do.” I always had a plan.
“What do you want to do?”
“Well, if you don’t beat me, I’d quite like to be hosting The Love Doctor show.”
He smiled, revealing dimples. “That’s all you want?”
It was weird sharing my personal plans with him, but hey, I was game. “I want my own show. I see myself doing big things and being more of an entrepreneur than I am.”
“So, if you were with someone who didn’t support those dreams and those plans, that would be an example of giving up on what you want.”
“Okay, that makes sense, but I think it’s more than just that. Anyone can show support of what you want from the start when things are all rosy and they put on their best face to you.”
“Jada, everybody puts forward their best face. Some can do it longer than others. That’s why you can’t vet people like they’re applying for a job, because they’ll always be putting their best face forward. Especially if they know you’re vetting them.”
“They don’t have to know you’re vetting them,” I countered, feeling flustered that what he was saying made some sense to me.
“Trust me. They know.”
“How? If a couple is dating and they are taking things slowly and taking the time to see if they’re a good fit, then that’s a much better thing to do than rushing into something head over heels and one of them finds out all kinds of crazy shit about the other somewhere down the line.”
It seemed I got him with that one. And I hoped he didn’t ask me if that was what had happened to me. I’d recalled everything from last night. Including me telling him that I’d met the wrong guy.
That was something I would have never mentioned to anyone, let alone to him.
It didn’t escape me that throughout our whole conversation this morning, he hadn’t brought it up.
I appreciated it, but I did wonder what he thought about it. I’d gotten very emotional, and I wished I hadn’t.
This whole saga was showing that rather than being over the past like I thought I was, I’d patched it up like a broken vase. It was unstable and ready to break again at the slightest touch.
“People… are different. I think you can have the couple who want to take things slow and the couple who meet and they know they are it for each other. Time doesn’t need to tell them anything. You can’t tell a couple like that to vet each other and slow down. Chemistry and attraction are all they respond to.”
“Those things can be dangerous.”
“Sometimes they can be fun. Like us.”
I rolled my eyes at him.
“What about family and kids? Don’t you want that?” he asked and threw me off-kilter.
There was a time when I would have answered that question with a resounding yes. Not so much now.
“I don’t know. Do you want family and kids?” I threw the question back at him.
He nodded. “Yes, I do. But we’re not talking about us yet in that capacity. I do hope when we get around to the baby-making stage though, and the kids arrive, the girls all look like you and the boys look like me.”
This guy was of a different variety altogether.
“You are crazy.”
“So you keep telling me, but you asked me if we should have a family and kids. Woman, I haven’t even got you into bed yet.”
Oh my gosh. “Ivan, I am trying to have a serious conversation with you.”
“And I’m trying to kill two birds with one stone.”
“Which two birds? We’re talking business.” I giggled.
“The business bird and the pleasure bird. We are like fire and ice with this conversation. I don’t want to risk you slapping me again. I also want you to like me because we’re going out tomorrow.”
I narrowed my gaze at him. “What? I’m busy tomorrow. I’m not going out with you.”
“We’re rearranging our schedule so we can get to know each other outside of our disagreements. I’ll be here at nine.”
“In the night?” I glared at him.
“In the morning, Goddess. It’s an all-day thing. I’m taking you somewhere, somewhere that will have a two-fold purpose.” He nodded.
“How?”
“You have some distorted views on love, and I want to clear some of them up.”
“My views aren’t distorted. I’ve been around enough guys to know what I’m talking about.” I did know. The one time I was hurt the most made me extra cautious.
It was the one time with a lifetime lesson attached to it. I’d never forget.
My views weren’t distorted at all. I just wanted to enlighten people so they knew what they were getting themselves into right at the start, or if they were in a relationship that wasn’t working, or one that could be saved, then maybe I could help there too.
“I don’t believe that, Goddess. I really don’t.”
“Right, of course. I forgot you think I’m incapable of doing this gig.”
“Hey, I apologized for that. I don’t believe that either. What I do believe is that you’ve never fallen hard before.”
I pressed my lips together and kept my gaze trained on him. “I have.”
“No, baby, because falling like that is not a one-way thing. It’s both ways. You look at that person, and you know without a doubt that they love you. They look at you and can tell the same. You’re true to yourself because they are true to you and you them. That’s what I mean about never giving up on what you want. You meet someone like that, you want to keep them because you don’t have to worry about your goals anymore, because you both work together to make them come true.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. In all complete honesty, I’d never thought about
anything like that because I didn’t think I’d had that.
No… I knew I didn’t.
When I’d looked at Brian, I never once saw that he loved me. He said he did, but saying something and acting like it were very different.
“You think that’s real?”
“I know it’s real,” he answered like he’d had that in his life.
It made me wonder if he did, or had. It was reasonable to assume that if he did have that, then he wouldn’t be sitting here with me talking about kids and us sleeping together.
“I don’t think everyone is lucky to have that, Ivan.” I raised my shoulders.
“I think we can.”
“It sounds like as much of a myth as love at first sight.”
He laughed. “Goddess, you are reading me the wrong way. We’re a bunch of theories disagreeing with each other.”
“Come on. You want me to tell my readers and clients that you can have love at first sight?” I shook my head.
“I tell you what. How about we wait until tomorrow, and we can put that to the test? My point today is, keep an open mind.”
“Oh, like my rule number seven? I can definitely do that.” I chuckled.
“No, like my rule number three. Never give up on what you want, don’t be afraid to take risks, and keep an open mind. My three steps.”
I smiled. “Okay. I’ll do it. Tomorrow.” What the hell was I getting myself into? “Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“Okay…That sounds mysterious. You surprising me?”
“Don’t worry. I promise you’ll like it.” He gave me a confident nod.
“Wow, you and me hanging out. I wonder what the papers would say about that, and a day before the showdown.”
“Forget the papers, and work. This is just us, remember? Like a field trip.”
Field trip. I wish it felt that way instead of the date-like vibe I was beginning to get.
“A field trip. I can do that.”
“Good.” He took my empty plate and stood, stacking it with his. “I have to go. Tons to do before our getaway.”
“Getaway? That doesn’t sound much like a field trip anymore.”
He smiled and walked into the kitchen with the plates. When he returned, he was holding his shirt.
The Love Doctors Page 8
