What to Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection (WTRAFSOG Book 9)
Page 135
He waited for more poking and prodding about the relationship with his mum. Questions to see if he hated all women and suss out the reasons why he only indulged in non-committed relationships. There’d be insinuations and pity about not having a mum’s love as a little boy. He waited some more but none of that came. “That’s it?”
“If you wanted to spill out your sob story, you would’ve. Wine? I picked up some Chardonnay before I got home yesterday.” She smiled at him, knowingly, and he had to smile back.
“My mum was American. She loved to travel, like me or I’m like her. Fell for my Da in Scotland. They got married. She kept on traveling between getting pregnant with me and then my brother. Eventually she kept going and never came back. Found some other man to marry and more children to have. I’ve heard she didn’t travel as much after that.”
Finally she looked him head on. “She’s your bastard, and trust me, a mother who leaves her children behind without a backward glance is, at the very least, a bastard.”
That had crossed his mind a time or two or three. Along with the fact he might feel different about sex, love, marriage and everything in between if his mum had stuck around long enough to keep his da, his brother and him from turning into unmitigated bachelors.
He scoffed to dislodge the bitter taste in his mouth. “Guess you could say that.”
“But, the difference is you aren’t leaving anyone behind when you go. That makes you a cad, but not heartless.”
Warmth filled him at the words even though they were complete shite. “Is that the way you see me?”
A corner of her mouth quirked up. “I see you naked so my viewpoint may be biased.”
“That may be the reason.” But Ian didn’t think so and he frowned at that.
She grinned at him. “Ask.”
He shook his head, still puzzled by her words. “No question yet.”
“When you do, know that I’ll answer.”
The words finally eased the tense ache in his shoulders. “You won’t mind it?”
“You do it for me.”
He stilled at the tone. “Any questions you have?”
She made a contemplative sound and covered the chicken in flour while the oil heated and popped softly. “More of a statement.”
“And that is?”
“I know what dating is, Ian,” she said but didn’t look at him.
“Aye?”
“Yeah, but you’re leaving, and I’m fine with that. I will be. Eat with me tonight. Leave when you damn well please. When you do go, for good, don’t worry you’re leaving me brokenhearted. I’m made of sterner stuff than that. You don’t have to sugar-coat the ending, because the whole point of us was for me to do everything I was too scared to try.”
Her words rocked him to the core. She was strong. Vibrant. Sexy. Wholesome-ish. Everything he should walk away from and give a better man a chance to enjoy. “Aye.”
“You won’t be the bastard, so relax. We’ve got three weeks and there’s plenty of fantasies between the two of us to keep us busy.”
He looked at Jocelyn, really looked at her for what felt like the first time. If he was a different man, with different heartaches and goals, he would have fallen for her right then and there. But he wasn’t. He couldn’t relax, not entirely, but fuck if he didn’t try.
Ian moved just a fraction of an inch and Lexxie adjusted her position on his right foot. He liked that. They’d played out the same scene several times in the last few days and still he wasn’t tired of it. This time was a little different. Ian shifted against Jocelyn’s kitchen island. She leaned closer to him. He liked that even more.
He wanted to see if Joce would sink her teeth into food. She’d taken all the time in the world cutting the pork chop into fine slivers. Her lids were low, hair bunched up on one side because he’d waken her for dinner. She still looked sexy as fuck to him, lips pursed and a wary glaze to her eyes.
She lifted the fork and put it back down beside the plate. “There’s no dishes in the sink. So, I don’t think you really cooked this.”
Ian forced his lips not to curve into a smile. “You wound me with yer suspicion.”
Her gaze narrowed to slits. “You’re breaking out the Scot. Now I know you’re lying.”
“Just taste it.”
“Would you feed it to Lexxie?” she threw back.
He plucked a piece from the plate and tutted. The warmth on his foot lessened only a fraction. Jocelyn rounded to his side and watched him give Lexxie a piece of the food. The dog chopped on it twice but since the meat was tender it was gone in a flash.
“See?” he said.
She didn’t move back to her side so while Lexxie warmed his foot, Jocelyn warmed his side. He hooked a finger on her plate and slid it over to them.
She looked at him and then the food. “Where’d you get it?”
He swallowed the laugh at her question. “Freezer.”
“How’d you thaw it?”
“The old fashioned way of running cold water. Not hot.” Something she’d taught him or, closer to the truth, something he’d picked up the last three days spending way too much time at her house.
“I don’t know…” She bit her lip and picked up the white ceramic dish. A sniff and then she shrugged. “Open wide.”
She lifted a piece of the pork to his mouth and he grabbed her wrist. Ian chewed the food and then licked traces of the wine and Worcestershire sauce from her fingertips. Nipping at the sensitive tip of her forefinger, he pulled back. “Delicious.”
“You’ve told me a time or two, but what about the food?”
“Not as good as you but passable.”
A dreamy mist, a mixture of pleasure and lust, clouded her eyes. Her lips formed into a soft pout and his gaze was caught in the web of the dark-pink and tender flesh. Much plumper than the lips he was familiar with but no less tantalizing. Drawing him in, teasing him because they felt off limits and nothing about them seemed to be.
Maybe a few days ago had been a fluke, and he’d read too much into her reaction. He tutted and twitched his foot. Lexxie jumped up, and Ian moved in on Jocelyn, leaning down for a kiss. Before their lips could touch, she lifted her head and offered her neck. He tensed.
Ach. No.
Letting out a frustrated breath, he straightened, grabbed the plate and handed it to her. “Eat. It’s rude not to.”
She hesitated, not meeting his gaze, but finally took a bite. She made a noise that sounded like a guttural hmm and ate another sliver. But she’d turned her head away when he’d tried to kiss her and Ian couldn’t revel in sounds she made. The good mood he had was slowly turning to shite the more he thought about that quick flick of her head.
Lexxie whined. He glanced down and she shuffled close to his foot again. An angry tut had her scuttling back. “What?”
The plate clanked lightly against the wood and then Jocelyn’s hand, soft and usually soothing, pressed against his wrist. He threw the same question, in the same irritated tone at her.
“Are we about to argue?” she asked, voice cool.
She wanted to have a calm discussion? He felt anything but calm. “If and when we argue, it’ll be loud and ugly. Don’t lash out at me with a reasonable head. Arguing with heat is the only way we’ll argue.”
“Another rule?” Her voice was just as soothing and unaffected by his sudden temper and it grated on him. “By the way, Ian, that’s some screwed logic.”
Maybe, but he only had real good, high-blood-pressure-inducing arguments with people he gave a shite about. He and his brother had come to blows many of times before.
But, wait…
Why did he care about any of this? He was making sure Jocelyn was fed. He hated how Lexxie shuffled back away from him as though he’d taken a hand to her arse. He felt like pish over Jocelyn refusing to kiss him. None of it mattered, but it still felt like a stone in his gut that no amount of shifting would dislodge.
“Forget it.”
She blinked
and her head snapped up. “No.”
“Joce,” he started to speak but she shook her head.
“No.” She blew out a breath. “You’re right, but first I’d like to know why we’d argue, just now?”
He felt…exposed. Not necessarily with the question but the answer that immediately sprang to mind. “Like I said, forget it. I’m taking Lexxie out for a walk. I already ate, and then I’ll get out of your hair.”
She swallowed again and he couldn’t read the emotion crossing her face. Irritation? Her boy toy was having a fit in her kitchen. How ridiculous, which is why he wanted to drop the whole conversation. But, still, he waited for her to come up with the words.
“I-we—Ian, I’m not a fan of kissing.” She held her breath and her eyes widened.
Every muscle in his frame went tight. The lie beat at his eardrums and deep in his chest. “Aye,” he spoke low.
Why they would argue or even how they’d argue didn’t matter. She had just looked him in the eye and lied. She wanted to fuck him, not kiss him. Pretty clear statement with the head turn, but she was nice enough not to throw it in his face. He’d done the same with other women, rebuff them in a clear way. Too many times.
And, it pissed him off anyway. Both the lie and for caring about it. Turning his back to her, he whistled low and Lexxie shot to Jocelyn’s room. Within moments, she came back with her leash clamped in her mouth. And because he did have a shite mood, he stole another small piece of meat from Jocelyn’s plate and fed it to Lexxie.
Joce sighed, started to speak and stopped. She narrowed her gaze on his face and tried again. “I’d rather you be here in the morning. It’s…convenient to not have to wait for the day job to be over before we can…”
She blew out a breath and looked up at him with a plead in her gaze to make what she was asking for easier to say.
He sighed too and let go of the mad. No reason for it. He should have been concerned about the sudden need to kiss her anyway. It’d pass…but then he thought about her offer, really thought about the words she wasn’t saying and came to a decision. “Put on some shoes. You’re going with me.”
“Where?”
“To walk Lexxie and get me some more clothes from my flat. I like convenient.”
Self-consciously she ran a hand over her hair. “Thank you for not saying run a weed-whacker through my hair too.”
“You’re messy because I made you that way. You won’t mind if I mess you up again.”
She grinned at him, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Give me ten minutes to look half-way decent.”
“Okay,” he said and tried to roll the leftover tension from his shoulders.
Her gaze caught on the movement but she didn’t say a word before heading to her room. Ian glanced down at Lexxie who’d rested on her haunches, leash still in her mouth. He bent to her, the bathroom door closed behind him, and he let out a breath.
Lexxie ran up to him and began to lick at his hand. He let her and placed a kiss on top of her smooth head. Her arse wagged harder. He patted her rump and clipped the leash on.
Scratching her chin, he gazed into her eyes. “You know I love you?”
She chuffed at him. He took it as a yes and felt somewhat better. Jocelyn came out of the bathroom looking freshly scrubbed and smiling at him. That knocked the rest of the irritation off. He’d wake up to that. Not have to worry about breaking her heart when he left. So…why in the fuck was he whining?
But the stone didn’t budge an inch at the thought. It only dug in deeper when she asked him who delivered the pork. Didn’t matter that he’d made it himself and cleaned up after. He told her the name of a restaurant and let it go.
Chapter Nine
They were practically down to the wire now on the project. They’d adjusted their speed had revved up from last minute details. Yet, Jocelyn’s head was so not in the game. Forty-eight hours and Ian would leave. Yeah, he’d be back when the exhibit ended to make sure everything was packed up properly and got delivered to the next museum in one stroke. A process she wasn’t necessarily needed for.
Almost three weeks ago she had talked a good talk about being fine, but she couldn’t have imagined what they’d turn into during that time. For all intents and purposes, they lived together. Him with her. She looked forward to going home to Ian. In her bed. In her kitchen. In breathing distance, but since he made it his pet cause to ensure she was breathless most of the time, that was a moot distinction.
So, trying to twist the white paper and create a wig made Jocelyn a little stabby. Didn’t help that her intern hovered. His last year in grad school, Marcus had a pure talent in artistry. He’d been pushing for more and she was almost ready to give him more responsibility or actually stab someone.
“Is the hot glue gun ready to go?” The mannequin’s head sat on her desk. The cap had dried the day before and would be used again at some point.
Crafting the wig was the very last project and then only small and insignificant details were left. And then the opening where nothing but academics and monied folks were invited. Then the people she did this for. Everyday people who probably would never have the money to buy antiques or pieces of history. Didn’t have the means to cross the world and see relics outside of pictures, but they could afford the admission fee. That’s why she did what she did. For them.
The damn wig was standing in her way. And her head wasn’t in the game, because Ian sat back quietly in what she called the war room watching her, pretending to work, but she knew the expression he wore. If Marcus wasn’t hovering, Ian might have dragged her off to his office for a very important and private meeting.
Marcus brought over the glue gun but didn’t hand it over. “I can do this. I really want to give it a try. Can I show you something?”
Curious, she pushed away the impatience and told him he could. He put the gun down and went to his area. He came back with sketches. Step by step drawings of how to put together the paper wig. Not hers, not from the Internet, but his own drawings. She could tell from the slant of the lines and the young man’s personal flourishes. Impressed, she stopped twisting the paper.
The details were breathtaking and accurate. “How long did it take you?”
“Six weeks.”
Half the time he’d been there and this is what he’d stepped up to do. She glanced at him, and he tried to look professional and capable, but she could see the eagerness. Although she was in charge of all the interns, this project wasn’t her baby, alone at least.
Jocelyn gave the papers to Marcus and pointed at Ian. “Show Baird. He gets the final say.”
Ian sat up straighter in the chair, putting down his work on the small table next to him. He spent a much longer time over the sketches and asked for a pencil to make some small changes. Overall, he made the decision quickly. He glanced at his watch and met her gaze. Her skin prickled, because as far as he was concerned, it was time for them to leave.
“You give either one of us a call if you can’t finish in time or you have any snags,” Ian said in a stern but encouraging tone he used on all the interns. “I don’t need to tell you how important it is that you don’t bugger this up.”
At that Jocelyn hesitated. Normally, when she didn’t have a life after work, she’d have stayed with Marcus. Be the annoying boss hovering over someone else’s shoulder. Hell, even when she was with Reese, she’d have stayed to gain more experience. But she was different with Ian.
In forty-eight hours he’d be gone, and unlike what she’d said in her speech a few weeks ago, she’d be heart broken. They had tonight and waiting to be with him would be insane. So she wouldn’t. Couldn’t.
Just in case, she wrote down her cell phone number for Marcus. She packed up her stuff, went to her car and waited to see Ian’s pull up behind her. She led the way to her sister’s house. An off shot from her own apartments, Kimberly lived in a home, in suburbia with her husband and kids. Her niece and nephew were home, but the husband hadn’t made it yet.
Her sister made a noncommittal noise and frowned at the display. “You’d think it was his dog.”
“My girl’s smart,” Jocelyn said. “She doesn’t bite the hand that feeds her.”
Ian cooed to the dog as she flopped on her back for belly rubs. “There’s my baby girl. How are you doing? Miss me? Aye? I know you did.”
Since she knew what his hands felt like, Jocelyn didn’t begrudge Lexxie for having absolutely no shame. Maybe, if Jocelyn had been on her game, she’d have realized her slip. Kimberly grabbed her arm and dragged her away from the shameless display. Her kids waved hi but didn’t stop playing the video game.
“He feeds her as in he lives with you?”
There was no real way to talk herself out of this one, but she tried. “He visits. A lot.”
Her sister glared. “More than a toothbrush and a change of underwear kind of visit?”
After their almost argument, he’d picked up some extra clothes. After the fourth night in a row, she told him it’d be convenient for him to bring all his grooming essentials too so he wouldn’t smell like girl soap and look like he hadn’t shaved in a year. He’d done it without comment or looking at her in a way that said they were crossing a line, which they totally were. Her speech wasn’t that good, but Jocelyn refused to read more into his motives.
Sooner or later, she’d have to answer her sister, now, or when she walked around looking butt hurt after he left. “Closet and drawer space. I cook. He cleans.”
They looked alike, so, it was unsettling to see a gaze so much like hers staring back with the same doom-is-looming-on-the-horizon emotions swirling in the brown irises.
“I know,” Jocelyn murmured. “But I wanted this, even knowing damn well how it would end.”