by Jill Monroe
Jeremy lifted from her, his expression…not one that was typical of Jeremy. “Yeah, me, too,” he said as he rolled off her.
Miriam scooted up against the headboard, watching as he reached for his jeans and stepped into them. He’d just tugged his shirt over his head when she finally clued in to the fact that he was actually getting dressed. Dressed to leave her.
“Are you going?” she asked. Surprised.
He gave her a tight nod. “It’s time.”
She yanked the sheet up and around her body. “Oh, well, you can…” Her words trailed off. What was she about to offer? That he could stay with her? Until when, morning? She recalled supervising the article on women broadcasting mixed signals.
What kind of mixed signals was she disseminating to Jeremy?
That she wanted him?
That she only wanted him for sex?
That she’d only use him for sex because she was afraid of what others would say and think?
When had she become so shallow? When had she become so much like her mother?
Her eyes prickled, and the back of her throat tightened. What a cold bitch she was.
“You came back tonight to show me how I made you feel. To show me what it feels like to only be used for sex.”
His sad blue eyes met hers, and he shrugged. “I started out that way, but I could never use you for sex, Miriam. I care for you too much.”
Was she so shallow she was about to lose the best thing in her life?
No.
She didn’t deserve him.
He tugged on a boot. She didn’t deserve him, but she wasn’t so stupid she was going to let him walk out of her life so easily. Things seemed so clear now. Sure, the cynical side of herself would say she was trying to pound square pegs into round holes because she wanted Jeremy.
And so what if she were? Wasn’t he, wasn’t the thing between them, worth fighting for?
“Jeremy, wait.”
He turned slowly, reluctantly.
Her stomach clenched. She’d never seen that look on his face. Dejected. Tired. Resolved. “There are a million reasons why this shouldn’t work between us.”
“You’ve told me already.”
“But I haven’t told you why it can.”
The next words would be hard to get out. She hadn’t said them to another person since she was seven.
“I love you. You were right. I don’t know how it happened, maybe that scientist author who’s working with my brother is right, and something in you triggered something in me.”
She wrapped her fingers around his hand. “I know you’d never hurt me. You’ll try to rescue me and take care of me, and I’ll just say ‘screw it’ to anyone who says something about our age difference.”
Miriam saw his body tense. Then relax. In relief she realized she was winning him.
His expression lightened. “That’s my Miriam.”
She reached for him, drew him to her. “That’s who I’ll be. Your Miriam.”
He lowered his head and kissed her gently on the lips.
“I have tickets to the ballet tomorrow. I can’t wait to introduce you to my friends,” she said.
“Ballet? How about a baseball game? Maybe even tennis? I’ll even throw in dinner.”
She let out a laugh, and his grin turned into a full smile.
“Tough,” she said and touched the tip of her tongue to the seam of his lips.
“Miriam, when you do things like that to me, I can’t go slow.”
She ran her tongue up the side of his neck until she found his ear, tugging his lobe gently with her teeth.
Jeremy scooped her up in his arms. “I’ll wait for slow next time. I want you now.”
Miriam liked the sound of that.
AVA STOOD IN THE OPEN doorway of her apartment, only to find Ian leaving a stack of papers she assumed was the last chapter of the manuscript. He dropped the spare key she’d given him on top. She was startled, but not entirely surprised to see him still there. Something between them felt…unfinished. At least in her mind. Perhaps he felt it, too.
He stood slowly and faced her. “Miriam approved the book, it’s going into production.”
She forced a smile, feeling next to nothing. “That’s great.”
“You should be getting the rest of your advance now. That should seed you for your next project or your vacation.”
“Actually, I pitched another idea to Miriam. It came to me on my walk.”
He stuffed one hand into the back pocket of his jeans. “Really? I thought you might try to find work teaching.”
“I thought I would, too. But now I find I’m missing doing the actual field research. I think I’d much rather be out discovering new things than writing about them. It was a large part of my life, and I want to get back to it. Like you and being a reporter.”
He nodded slowly. “Just like me.”
“In fact, something you said gave me the idea. Remember how you said I knew all these ancient customs, but nothing of my own? Well, that’s what I plan to work on, the more unusual marriage and courtship customs found in modern times.”
“Where do you plan to go first?”
“Miriam and I agreed on Sweden. I want to explore the rituals from colder climates. See how they’re different. How they’re the same. There’s something kind of sexy about spending months indoors under the covers with your love.” Her voice trembled. She’d tried to make it detached, but all she could imagine was snuggling under the covers with Ian.
“Maybe when you’re done with the research on that we could…” His words trailed.
Her throat began to ache. He was going to say work on the book together. “Yeah. Maybe. I’d like that.” She paused. Somehow this conversation felt like that coffee role-play. She’d offer him coffee. He’d accept knowing she was inviting him in for something other than a hot beverage.
Except this time it was about something a lot more close to her than coffee. This was the role-play about not seeing each other again, while pretending they would. This role-play only made her sad.
“Where are you headed?” she asked.
“The jungles of South America. Some interesting stuff brewing down there.”
She suppressed a shudder at the thought of Ian in the line of fire. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy the pace.”
A long awkward silence followed. She should be used to those by now, but she wasn’t. Ava folded her arms across her chest. He lifted the strap of his laptop case over his shoulder.
“You know, there’s one thing you never talked to me about twenty-first-century dating.”
“What’s that?”
“How to act when it ends.”
Something dark and fierce blazed in Ian’s brown eyes, then faded. His fingers lifted, almost as if he were going to reach for her. But he didn’t.
“It ends as friends.”
Her heart ached. She didn’t want friendship. She wanted more. “I thought you told me men never wanted friendship from a woman.”
Ian shrugged, and dropped his gaze. “Sometimes when that’s all you can have, that’s what you take.”
Her throat tightened. “Ian, I wanted to thank you for everything. If you hadn’t—”
He shook his head, and his eyes met hers once more. “No need to thank me. It was all you. I just helped you…bring it out.”
Ian smiled then, the first genuine smile he’d given her since the end of the book. “Goodbye, Ava.”
Two Weeks Later
“PEOPLE AS HAPPY AS you are shouldn’t be allowed in public,” Ian said, as he cradled his head in his hands.
Miriam patted him on the shoulder. “And someone as miserable as you are should be shot and put out of their misery. What is wrong with you? I thought you’d be happy covering those peace talks. They’re not very peaceful, are they? That’s right up your alley.”
“I was. Am.”
“Come on, baby brother. Tell me what it is.”
“Drifting from one place
to another isn’t exciting anymore. I don’t get the rush. That jolt of excitement. Chasing danger just feels…silly.” Because nothing could ever be as thrilling and challenging as Ava.
“What is it you’ve been chasing all this time, Ian?”
He lifted his shoulders. “I don’t know. I don’t know if I ever did know.”
“Now you seem more like you’re running.”
And how. But what was he running from? From Ava? From his feelings? What if he did find her again? Try for something resembling a normal relationship? Things would eventually fall apart around him. They always did. And then he’d hurt like hell.
He was hurting right now.
At least if he found her again, he’d get to spend the good times with her while it lasted, right?
“Sis, we’re in the media biz. Love and happiness, it’s all an illusion. Our job is to market happiness, but promote it in such a way that people always want more. We sell a fantasy. How do you know if you’re really in love?”
Miriam rolled her eyes. “You know what not being in love feels like, right? Do you feel like that?”
“No.” He didn’t have the strength to deny it any longer. It was time to face facts. Weeks had passed, and whatever trick passion played on his heart had not faded. Usually he forgot the woman as soon as they’d both said goodbye. He was in love with Ava.
A slight smile tugged at his lip. “What’s even more bizarre, I was actually happy with Ava.” He knew some people who, when they found their latest “love of their life,” became miserable and made everyone around them unhappy, too.
“What’s more, you’re not happy now without her,” Miriam pointed out.
He scrubbed a hand down his face. “You’re right, but you know how things are. How could I subject her to me? She’s really bett—”
“If you actually say something stupid like ‘she’s better off without me’ and you’re backing away to be good to her, I’m really going to scream.”
“Look at Mom, Dad. They probably passed along some personality trait that actually makes the person I love better off not being around me. They were bad enough as single entities, but combined together in my DNA…”
“The love-destruction gene? I don’t think so.” Miriam’s lips firmed. “I almost pushed away the best thing that’s ever come into my life because I was afraid I was too much like Dad, enjoying a trophy boy toy. You’re worried you’re like Mom. Are you using Ava to your own selfish advantage? Only being with her because of what she can give you before you move on?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“Then what’s the problem? The fact that you’re willing to push her away, wrong though it is, proves you’re looking out for her best interest, and not being a jerk. And screw Mom and Dad as examples. If anything, I think we’re better candidates for marriage because we’ve witnessed firsthand all the things you can do wrong to ruin a relationship.”
The tension he’d been carrying in his shoulders, and the ache twisting his gut relaxed. “Right. Who we should be feeling sorry for are all those people who grew up in normal, functional homes and think love is easy.”
Brown eyes met brown eyes and they both laughed.
“I do love Ava, and you know, when I was with her I never felt that urge to keep looking over the next hill to see if there was something more exciting.”
“Isn’t there someone else you should be saying all this to?”
Ian looked up and met his sister’s serious gaze.
“You’re happy? You really are?” Miriam nodded.
“I’m out of here.”
Miriam reached over and buzzed Rich through the intercom. “Book Ian on a flight to Sweden.”
AVA PULLED ON ANOTHER pair of thermal underwear before sitting cross-legged on her bed. Who knew sleeping on a bed made of snow and ice would actually be comfortable? But it was. Everything about the ice hotel was amazing.
She’d lived all over the world, seen a lot of hotels, motels and patches of dirt on the ground, but she’d never slept in a place like this. A hotel in the village of Jukkasjärvi made entirely from the frozen water of the nearby Torne River. She’d loved this amazing structure the moment she’d stepped out of the cold into the warmer reservation area of the hotel. Warmer, but not warm. She appreciated the snow coat, hat and mittens provided by the hotel, and was glad she’d packed so much thermal underwear.
This clothing was certainly different from the attire worn by the cultures she usually researched. The coat might not show a woman’s form to its best advantage, but the women of the Artic region still kept their beds warmed at night with the presence of a man when desired. She was looking forward to learning the flirting techniques these women utilized while freezing their backsides off and in the bulkiest clothing ever created.
Maybe it had something to do with the saunas. The Swedes took steam to a whole new level, and she never realized how much she’d enjoy the ice sauna in the hotel. Relaxing in the outdoor hot tub while staring up at the designs the Northern Lights created in the night sky was a nice backdrop for a romantic interlude.
She snapped a few pictures of the interior of her room, the large blocks of ice carved in a gothic style. Each room of the hotel was a work of art, the architecture unique, and she’d stayed in four different quarters so far. The clearness of the ice cast a beautiful light blue hue, and the beauty of the ice sculptures made her forget the cold.
Made her forget almost everything but Ian.
Ava pulled the blanket from the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders. The window beckoned her, as it did whenever she was alone in here. She faced to the left. That was the right direction for South America, right?
She sighed heavily. Maybe she’d messed up there that last day with Ian. Maybe she shouldn’t have taken his word for it, as friends. Maybe she should have fought for what she knew he felt for her. He had felt something, she knew it.
Or maybe it was this beautiful, magical place making her get all fanciful about Ian. This hotel that made her feel as if she was living the life of a fairy-tale ice princess waiting for her misguided prince to wise up.
The hotel would be gone soon. Already she heard the faint drip of the melting ice. Spring would come and begin to claim her room, by summer it would all be gone. Only to be reborn in the fall. A new hotel would be carved from the ice. A new vision.
Ava knew there was probably a metaphor about her relationship there. She’d explore it right now but she had a wedding to take part in. No longer was she just an observer: Ava Simms was living life now. She tossed off the blanket and headed for the door.
She found the excited bride, Penny, waiting for her, already dressed in a medieval gown of lace, her hair tied with garland.
“I can’t wait until your book comes out. Can you see what’s in my hair? Gavin liked the story you told last night so much, he tied it himself. The flowers were going to be for my bouquet, but who cares? What’s a few less blooms?”
Take that, Ian Cole. “You look lovely, and I have something for your bouquet.” Ava opened a small plastic bag, and pulled out some greenery.
The bride caught the strong aroma. “That smells.”
“I know, and for good reason. The ancients of this land believed small trolls and evil gnomes would plague young couples. But there was a remedy.”
Penny made a face. “I’m guessing that the remedy is what smells.”
“You guessed right. The bride and her attendants are to carry herbs and stinking weeds, but I think the gnomes and trolls can be successfully chased away with just a bit tucked into your bouquet.”
After a quick hug, they both made their way to the ice church. Ava took a seat and noted the beautifully designed space with arches and an ice altar carved with intricate designs.
The ceremony was beautiful, and it wasn’t the first time she wondered about what Ian’s reactions would be to all she’d found here. What would he think of the ceremony? Which customs would he want to recreate with her?
>
About every fifteen seconds she thought of something she wanted to tell him. Whenever she spotted something new, she immediately thought of sharing it with him. When had she ever wanted to share her work with anyone before?
Only with Ian.
Now, for the first time she understood her parents’ need to work together.
The happy couple was headed for the ice bar for a celebratory drink, and she was invited. Although the heavy coats were still needed, the large room was a favorite place for all the hotel guests to mingle. The blue lights of the bar reminded Ava of her first experience of a club scene with Ian, although the elegance of the large bar crafted entirely from ice and the drinks served from ice glasses was about as far removed from the experience as Oklahoma was from Sweden.
Which was why she was so surprised to see someone else completely out of place.
“Ian?” she called, unable to hide her shock, her heart pounding from the surprise of seeing him.
She watched him tense as he looked her way. That familiar tight ache she felt in her throat whenever she thought of him slammed into her with a vengeance. A million questions appeared and evaporated in her mind.
He was at her side in five long strides. “What are you doing here?” she asked. “Is there something wrong with the book?”
Ian shook his head. “I came for you.”
She blinked. “But what about those things you said? You’re the risk taker. How you live to be in the danger zone, and there’s no place for—”
He grasped her hands. Were his hands actually shaking? “I don’t need that rush anymore. I’ve discovered a way to feel alive without risking my neck.”
She forced herself to be still. Stay calm. Don’t give in to the hope. “What’s that?”
“Being with you. I love you, Ava.”
She closed her eyes tightly as he spoke, savoring his words.
“I’ve been miserable without you.”
His fingers curled around her chin and her lids opened. His smile wasn’t as bright. His eyes no longer so hopeful. “Do you need help with how a twenty-first-century woman responds to a man who tells her he loves her?”
