by Cherrie Lynn
“None taken.”
“I only work with the best, Gab.” Brian hopped off the counter, turning his backwards ball cap forward, usually the sign he was declaring himself off for the evening. “I leave you in good hands.”
“Then I’m not doing it.”
“That’s up to you. But stop being a baby about it, whatever you decide.”
“I’m being a baby?”
Before a real sibling spat could erupt, Ian straightened and stepped forward. “Hey, now. Gabriella, right? I’m Ian. If you want, I can take you over to the display and show you some of the work I’ve done. If you like it, I’ll be happy to do yours. Anything you want. And it’ll turn out great. I promise.”
“I look forward to seeing what you come up with, man.” Brian slapped Ian’s back again as he headed for the back, leaving Ghost snickering and Gabriella glaring. Bastard.
“Fine,” she sighed after her brother had gone. Then she mustered a smile for Ian and followed him to the poster displays, standing without comment while he flipped through some of his flash. After a few minutes, though, she stopped him.
“These are great, but they’re all really small,” she said.
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “You’re wanting to go big?”
“Very big. And actually…I already know what I want.”
“Lay it on me.”
“A phoenix,” she said. “I want it on my back. Just big and flowing and”—she made some downward wavelike motions with her hands—“beautiful. Shades of blue and green. Turquoise and teal.”
Hmm. Most people wanted the mythical bird rising from the flames after going through some sort of hardship. Brian had mentioned her spiraling…so this must really be what it was about. Already, he was picturing the phoenix in his mind as she imagined, flowing in aqua magnificence down what would no doubt be a gorgeous expanse of smooth olive skin. There couldn’t be anything stark or hard about the design. Fluid. Soft and feminine.
“I can pull in some violet to give it depth,” he mused, almost to himself now. “No black outlines,” he said.
“Oh?”
“Don’t you think?” He shooed Ghost away from the computer and brought up their most recent photos, clicking to the one he wanted—a cluster of pink, no-outline roses he’d done just last week.
She gave a gasp of happiness at his side. “I love that! Yes. It makes it look…soft. Almost painted on.”
He found himself smiling at her, finding her enthusiasm infectious.
“He’s good at those,” Ghost said as he moved back over to his station. “I don’t like them. You might have to get it touched up a lot.” He aimed the remote at the TV until he found the History Channel and an episode of Counting Cars.
“I cater to my client, dude,” Ian said. “Whatever she wants.”
“I don’t care, I want that. Definitely,” she said.
“Cool.” He lowered his voice. “Just between you and me, Brian doesn’t like them either. So you’re getting the better deal sticking with me.”
“I heard that,” Ghost called, “and I’m telling him. Holy shit! Look at that Chevelle. Daaaamn, man.”
Gabriella laughed, a clear, lovely sound that couldn’t have been tarnished in any way by her emotional suffering, or else it would’ve been positively angelic before. “Don’t worry about my brother,” she said conspiratorially to Ian. “I can handle him.”
Ian figured he could handle Brian too, if it came to that, but he let her go on thinking she was the authority on the matter.
“So when do we do this?” she asked. “Do you go draw it up, or…?”
“I’ll freehand it.”
“You draw it on me?”
“With markers. Yep. I do both freehand and stencils, but I think freehand would be best for yours. It can follow your natural contours”— it was all he could do not to sweep his gaze down her body when he said that—“and plus it saves a shit-ton of time. I’ll draw you a rough draft to give you an idea of what it’ll look like before we start, though.”
“We can start this today, then.”
“Yeah,” he said cautiously. “Is that a problem?”
She chuckled, crossing her arms. “I guess I figured it would take a while to get it drawn up, and then we would start. Or that you guys would be busy and I could set up an appointment. Some time to mentally prepare, you know, before I get the actual needle in my back. I’m a little nervous.”
“Nothing to be nervous about. We’ll go in your own time—and we don’t have to start today, if you don’t want.”
“Now that I really think about it, if I have time to back out…I just might. So maybe we should start.”
He laughed. “That happens. Let me work something up. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Her smile dazzled him. “Okay. Thank you.”
As he headed down the hallway toward the room they used to draw their designs, that smile was imprinted on the front of his brain. Damn. Ian was no stranger to beautiful women, but it had been an exceptionally long time since he’d been so affected by physical appearance alone. He tried to chalk it up to feeling bad for her, but in the few minutes they’d spoken, she didn’t seem to be someone who would either court or tolerate pity.
Brian noticed Ian pass by his office door and called to him. Ian stopped and stuck his head in. Candace, Brian’s fiancée, sat at his desk, and he stood behind her to see whatever she was showing him on the computer. “Thanks, man,” he said to Ian. “Sorry to put that off on you.”
“You are so mean.” Candace turned and smacked Brian on the side of his leg. “Not that you won’t do a great job, Ian, but I can’t believe he wasn’t nicer to Gabby.”
“It’s no problem, really,” Ian assured them.
“She’s a handful,” Brian said.
“She’s really nice,” Candace said at the same time.
“Nice to you,” Brian told her, “but you didn’t have to grow up with her.”
“Ha. Don’t forget, she had to grow up with you. If she’s ever mean to you, I figure you deserve it. No telling how you tortured her.”
Brian scoffed, stroking a hand down his dark goatee. “I was an angel.”
“Whatever. I’m going to go say hi to her.”
“Don’t hang out with her too much. She’ll taint you.”
Ian took the opportunity to slip away and get to work—they could keep up the playful banter for a very long time. In a way, he’d been relieved to leave Kara and Marco’s parlor in Dallas, because the two of them were flirting with each other all the time, and it was rather nausea-inducing—but damn if it hadn’t been a case of jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire. Brian and Candace could give those two a run for their money. At least they usually kept it out of view of the others.
When he took his seat to get started, Gabriella’s design came pouring out of him and onto the page. He thought about her past heartbreak—her smile had been bright, dazzling, but her pain still lurked behind it. He thought about his own, of a different sort but no less a part of who he was. The phoenix came to life in the passionate, flowing lines she’d asked for, the tail and feathers flamelike. In the colors she’d chosen, the effect would be breathtaking on her.
It took him only five or so minutes to do a rough sketch. It was enough for her to get an idea of how it would look, so, satisfied, he headed back up front to find Gabriella and Candace in deep conversation. Candace saw him first and took Gabby’s arm excitedly. “Oh, here he is. Let’s see!”
He offered the page to Gabby, and both girls pored over it, Candace exclaiming appreciatively. Gabriella, whose skin it would be on permanently, eyed it for a long time. He watched as her gaze took in every line. “Beautiful,” she finally said, the huskiness of her voice like a physical caress. “You could’ve looked into my mind.”
“Of course, the finished product will be ten times better. Are there any changes at all you’d like to see?”
“I really can’t think of a single thing. H
onestly, Ian, it’s perfect. Oh my God.”
“Once I draw it on, I’ll let you look in the mirror to make sure it’s the way you wanted.”
“Okay.” She gave a little laugh. “Now I can’t wait to get started.”
Candace ushered her toward the back with a sweep of her arm. “Right back there. I doubt you want to be up front for it.”
“Oh, good call. Thanks.” Her green eyes sought out Ian’s, and she gave him a giddy smile, lightly bouncing on her toes. “I’m ready when you are.”
Chapter Three
Something about the way Gabriella’s eyes followed him stirred longings best not dwelled upon. Boss’s sister, dude, boss’s sister, he kept telling himself, but it seemed the more he hammered the thought into his mind, the more his body rebelled.
She listened raptly to his sanitation-procedures spiel. Then he stepped out to let her get ready and positioned on the table before going back in with his markers.
Ian had hoped having those astute eyes off him would squelch the unwanted thoughts creeping into his head. No such luck. Because having her eyes off him meant the unmarred expanse of her back was completely bared to him, waiting for his art. He swallowed against the dryness of his throat at the sight of her stretched out on the table, her dark swath of silky hair pulled over to one side.
And she’d missed a lone tendril. “You missed some hair. I’m going to move it for you,” he said.
“Oops. Okay.” Gently, he brushed the wayward strands over to the side with the rest, and she gave a little shiver and laughed. “Sorry.”
That faintest contact with her skin almost caused him to groan—and he was about to have to sit here for an hour or two touching her. Jesus, how would he survive?
He had to suffer through more of her shivers and laughs as he drew on her with markers. Her skin was so soft and sensitive. He hoped the sting of the needle wouldn’t be too much for her, but he didn’t think it would be. She was tough.
He snapped on his black gloves and made sure she saw him open the needle package in front of her. With a deep breath to steel herself, she put her head back down and said, “Let’s do this.”
Fortunately, the answer of how he would survive came easily enough. He often zoned out when he was working. Life constricted to the end of his needle, and he liked it that way. Once they got through a few minor adjustments in his drawing and she accepted the first pass like a champ, Gabriella lay quiet, her breathing slow and easy. Since he followed his client’s cues, he didn’t disturb her except to ask occasionally how she was doing. As expected, she was fine.
Still, it was her first tattoo, and after some time had passed, curiosity got the better of him. Besides that, he was beginning to need a distraction again from the delight of her skin.
“Is it everything you thought it’d be?” he asked, wiping away excess ink.
She chuckled. “How do you mean?”
“The total experience. Is the pain about what you expected?”
“Pretty much.”
“You’re handling it well.”
She didn’t reply. Which might mean she wanted him to shut the fuck up. So he did, at least for a little while. But damn, she had him interested. He tried to recount in his head all the things he’d heard Brian say about her in the past few months.
She was the older sister. If she was older than Brian, then she was older than Ian. Like, several years older. She didn’t look it at all. He thought he could recall something about her living in Dallas, going to medical school. Marrying a doctor. Left at the altar.
Jesus, what a fucking idiot that guy was.
And that was the extent of Ian’s knowledge, but he wanted so much more.
“So you live around here?” he asked, coming to a decision. He’d play dumb and try to get her talking. But if she shut him down again, he’d let her.
“I live in Dallas. I’m only here for the summer. I’m, um…staying with my parents for a while.” She grumbled the second sentence as if it wasn’t something she was proud of, but he played it off.
“Hey, that’s cool. My mom lives in Dallas. I used to, until I moved here to help Brian out. He and I have some mutual friends up there. What do you do?”
“I was a nurse. I plan on being a pediatrician. Just finished my first year.”
“That’s…wow.” He’d known it, of course, but somehow hearing her say it made it sound ten times more impressive. “A pediatrician with a kickass back piece,” he finished lamely.
She gave a light laugh, careful not to jostle him. “I figure that’s a good place to hide it when I need to.”
“Yep. Excellent.” His machine buzzed on for a moment as silence settled again. He fought it hard. “A doctor. I could never shoulder that much responsibility. I fuck up enough that I don’t need someone’s life to depend on me.”
“I hope you don’t mean you fuck up your tattoos,” she said, the little note of teasing humor in her voice stirring things that didn’t need to stir right now.
“Oh, hell no. That’s not what I meant.”
“Well, see? You shoulder plenty of responsibility. People wear your art for the rest of their lives. That’s pretty major, I’d say.”
He grinned, not liking how her approval made pride swell in his chest. He knew it was major, no matter what his fucking stepdad said. And it was an honor that people put that much trust in him. He loved what he did; he couldn’t do it otherwise.
Gabriella gave a long, shaky exhale, and he quickly withdrew. “Need a break?”
“No, I’m good.”
“A drink of water? Anything. Don’t be afraid to speak up.”
She shook her head. “I’m fine.”
Brian took that moment to stick his head in the door. “How’s it going back here?”
“She’s a champ,” Ian said.
“Go away,” Gabriella said at the same time.
“Go away? You wanted me to do it! Now I can’t even come in? Aw, hell no.”
Ian chuckled and lifted his needle as Brian walked in and peeked over his shoulder. “Looking awesome, dude. ‘Dunce’ doesn’t have an ‘s’ in it, though.”
He bit down on laughter as Brian turned and ran out, thinking Gabriella wouldn’t appreciate his approval of the joke. “Oh my God!” she yelled after Brian. “I’m so glad now that you’re not doing this, you little shit!”
“You big shit!” came Brian’s gleeful voice from the front. Ian got the distinct impression it was a common insult between the two of them.
And this woman would make the coolest doctor he’d ever met. But then, he hadn’t met many, at least not outside of their offices…or his stint in the hospital several years back. He didn’t want to think about it.
“Now do you need a break?” he asked. “Got your blood pressure up?”
“It’s always like that with us,” she said, but there was no small amount of affection in her words. “I swear, sometimes he’s no different than when he was a freaking teenager.”
“Ah, well, where would be the fun in growing up?”
That induced her to silence again, and he got back to work. It lingered for a while this time, filling the air thickly, and he didn’t know why it bothered him so much now. Usually he was pretty content to keep the chatter to a minimum, but with her…
“Are you okay?” he blurted, and though he wasn’t talking about the pain of the needle, she would probably take it that way.
“Fine.”
“I guess what I mean is…why the phoenix?”
“I’m rising from the ashes.”
“Right.” He couldn’t muster the courage to be nosy enough to ask what ashes she was rising from. It was obviously about her failed relationship, but that was her story to tell.
And then she surprised him. “I was supposed to get married in March.”
“Yeah?”
“It didn’t happen.”
“Sorry about that.” Sorry that it hurt her. Not sorry that she wasn’t with some prick who didn’t deser
ve her. “That sucks.”
“Better that I should find out he wasn’t into it before the wedding rather than after, I suppose.”
“Good way of looking at it.”
Bitterness twisted in her words. “I just wish I hadn’t found out at the wedding.”
On that note, he had to stop for a second and shake his head. “Son of a bitch.”
“I mean, why? Why let it get that far? Obviously, this wasn’t something he realized ten minutes before he was supposed to meet me at the altar. He had to know this well in advance.”
“What was his excuse?”
“It wasn’t what he wanted. That’s all I got. He denied there being anyone else. He actually said if we could keep going on as we were without getting married, he’d be happy. Well, to hell with that.”
“Yeah, fuck that. I hear you.”
“Sure, let’s go on living the way you want to live, doing what you want to do. Never mind what I want,” she all but snarled, as if she were talking to her ex-fiancé right now.
Oh man, he probably should have heeded Brian’s warning and not opened this can of worms. Or even encouraged its opening. “Like you said, at least you found out beforehand.”
“It’s hard to focus on that sometimes. I just want to know why I had to find out at all. Why this had to happen. It was so humiliating.” She fell silent for a long, pain-filled moment, and when she spoke again, he could barely hear her. “So humiliating.”
He wanted to touch her somewhere, to comfort her. But he couldn’t, not without being highly inappropriate. Glancing toward the open door, he rolled his chair around to her head. She raised it slightly to look at him, her eyes wet and, goddamn, so bright, sparkling like precious emeralds.
“I think you’re doing a good thing,” he told her. “This is therapeutic for a lot of people, you know. The pain is cathartic. So I’ll shut the door if you want, and you can cry, or cuss him or scream, do whatever. I’m cool with any of it. And we’ll get this done, and it’ll be this beautiful testament to some very harsh shit you went through only to come out stronger on the other side.” He gave her a small smile. “I’ll even shut the fuck up from here on out.”
