Fifteen
Charlotte
Leaving the restaurant, I can tell something has shifted in Ian. He seems wound up all of a sudden, agitated, and I assume it’s because I’ve abruptly cut our lunch short.
Truthfully, there was nothing short about it. I don’t know how three and half hours passed by so fast, and since I had my ringer off, I missed several calls and probably a dozen texts. A quick glance showed none were emergencies, thank God.
As we approach the car, Ian hurries to my door and opens it for me. It almost appeared he was trying to get there before the valet. The thought of it makes me want to laugh, it’s so cute. I don’t though, offering a sincere “thank you” instead.
On the way back to my condo, I’m at ease enough to enjoy the ride more so than earlier when my nerves were fried. His car is beyond amazing. The leather seats are soft, creamy beige with dark stitching that complement the black and brushed metal surrounding us. The dash is completely uncluttered, although the console between us appears extremely high tech and very important. Like James Bond important, I joke to myself. It’s masterfully created, and I’d say he definitely got his money’s worth.
Watching him drive it is a whole other experience. I’m tempted to shoot a quick video of him and send it to the head of Lamborghini and tell them I found the guy for their next ad. He is, hands down, the sexiest man I’ve ever seen, and how I managed to pique his interest is something I still can’t wrap my head around.
To make matters worse, I truly enjoyed lunch, minus a few tense moments where things got a little deep. But I’ve come to expect that with Ian.
The drive to my place is short and the small talk neutral, but I can sense something is different. I’m not going to push it, because it ultimately doesn’t matter. I’m still not going to allow myself to start seeing him, especially after today. He keeps adding more reasons to easily fall for him, and it makes me wonder how long the trail of hearts is he’s left behind. Probably miles.
As he pulls up to the front doors, I go to let myself out, but he puts his hand on my arm and says, “Please, allow me.” A few seconds later, he opens my door, holding out his hand to assist me. It’s warm and sends a tickling sensation up my arm and into my chest. As soon as I can let go, I do. Now we are at the awkward “Goodbye” moment, and I hope he doesn’t try to kiss me. I’d probably melt into a puddle right here on the pavement.
“Thank you, Ian. That was an excellent lunch. I enjoyed it very much.” I’m suddenly nervous because there is so much more to say, but I can’t. Plus, I can sense the tension in him, and it makes me wonder what’s going through his mind.
“You’re welcome, Charlotte. Thank you for joining me. I had a wonderful time. Though I may not be able to concentrate for the rest of the day as I sit in a daze replaying our conversations over and over.” He finishes with a smile that is almost sad, making my lungs tight with emotion. He’s so open with his compliments, yet I can tell it’s not everything he wants to say. I can’t help but wonder what the hell he would say if he felt he could speak openly.
“Surely you’ll be too busy to sit in a daze. You did just land a major project that needs to get started.” I try to be light and steer this goodbye away from his intensity. No luck there—he’s always foiling my attempts to keep things from getting too heavy.
“You truly have no idea how spectacular you are or the effect you have on me, do you? I find it both endearing and maddening all at once.” He takes a step closer and my heart rate increases. He takes my hand, holding it gently and stares at me.
This is where I start to panic because the ground has been yanked out from under me.
He continues. “Would you do me the honor of joining me for dinner tomorrow night?”
I knew this was going to happen, and that’s why I didn’t want to go down this path. Now I’ve opened the door for him to pursue me as his latest conquest. I should have played dumb at lunch or been shallow and talked about his money the whole time. Something I would never lower myself to doing, but these are special circumstances.
I don’t want to tell him no while we’re face to face because he’ll undoubtedly convince me to go anyway just like he did in my office yesterday. I keep the ball in my court by saying, “That sounds nice, Ian. Let me check my schedule and see what’s going on. I’ll text you and let you know.” I try to look in his eyes but have to look away because I can tell he’s on to me, and he is not happy about it. I need to make my exit. “Thank you, again. I really have to run, but I’ll be in touch.” I don’t know whether to shake his hand or give him a hug. Neither seems like the right thing, so I opt for a touch on the arm. He doesn’t say anything, just gives me a quick nod and turns back to his car.
As I open the door to my building, I hear his car roar down the driveway. Once inside, I turn to see him take off onto A1A, tires screeching. I stand there for a minute longer, feeling guilty, sad, and a little angry with myself. Why the hell can’t I be more carefree about this whole thing with Ian? I know my body would surely love the opportunity to jump in bed with him and have mind-blowing sex for days. But my stupid brain has been programmed to not allow a man like him anywhere close…just in case my heart gets involved. Since Ian practically gives me a daily dose of reasons to fall head over heels for him, I’m forced to keep myself at a safe distance. Where I’m protected.
Back inside my condo, I call Erika, as promised. I think she actually answered before it rang.
“I want every detail and don’t hold back. But first, give me a sneak peek…any surprise orgasms?” I can tell she’s got people nearby because she’s talking under her breath.
“Give me some credit, Erika. You know I wasn’t about to let that happen again. We had a really nice time and an excellent lunch. He picked me up, of course, and took me to EDGE at the Four Seasons. As you know, it’s one of my favorite restaurants—score one for Ian.”
“What’s this really nice time crap? That’s not what I’ve been waiting around all day for! You’ve got to have something better than that.”
“Oh, lighten up, smut queen. The unfortunate truth is that I thoroughly enjoyed myself, and there are more reasons than I care to acknowledge that classify him as the perfect guy. Except for the most important one.”
“Which is?”
“Guys that look like him, act like him…ugh! That smell like him and are stupidly successful have way too many temptations offered up on silver platters. I could never hold a candle to the stunning women I’ve seen him photographed with. I’m too vulnerable with Ian, and I know it. I can’t be blatantly stupid, ya know? I know better than anyone the dangers of falling for a guy like him.”
“Charlotte, I get what you’re saying. But I can’t help thinking you’re making a mistake. You can’t make Ian pay for your dad’s indiscretions. And, honey, you can’t avoid potential happiness because of your mother’s weakness. That’s simply not living a full life. Surely that’s not what you want.”
Ugh…she’s about ready to make me cry. “I understand what you’re saying, but for right now, I don’t know any other way to be. I’m not ready to step outside my safety zone. Okay?”
“Okay…I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to push. I just wanted to give you some food for thought because I love you.”
“I love you, too. And I’ll think about what you said. In the meantime, I’ve got to go to work for a while. I haven’t been there at all today, and I really need to check in on things.”
“Yeah, I’ve got to get back to correcting problems created by other people’s stupidity. Remember that chick that works here I told you about? The one that thinks she’s God’s gift to humanity and has the worst taste in wardrobe? Well, we’ve got a huge presentation tomorrow and she’s got it so jacked up, I may be here all night fixing it. I’m definitely getting her ass fired over this one.”
“Wow…that stinks. If I can do anything to help, let me know. Even if it’s to bring you dinner or something.”
“Thanks,
babe. I’ll let you know. Muah!”
Hanging up, I gather a few things before heading out the door. I’m so preoccupied I’m afraid I’m forgetting something. Thinking about Ian and the conversation I had with Erika is causing a train wreck in my head. I know she’s right, and there is a big part of me that wants to text Ian right now and tell him, yes…I’d love to go to dinner, every night for the next month. But then I think about my mother and how her vibrancy and will to live simply disintegrated from a broken heart. The sudden pain in my stomach is almost unbearable. Ian has forced me to visit the ghosts of my past, on a daily basis, bringing to the surface a vulnerability I thought I had finally worked through.
Back at the resort, I find Tracy practically wearing out the carpet with her pacing. “Good afternoon, Tracy. What’s got you so wound up? I didn’t get any emergency calls so it can’t be that bad.”
“Oh, hey…there you are! No emergencies. Just busy and didn’t think you’d be gone so long. Not that you can’t take a day off, of course. I’m better at dealing with order and not chaos. I’ve barely had a chance to come up for air all day. I’ve always respected you, but when I have to wear your shoes, I respect you even more. I’ve never even seen you break a sweat!” She’s so flustered it’s almost funny. Tracy is great at keeping things in order, but for some reason she doesn’t accept she’s very good at dealing with chaos, too. I think it’s when the dust settles and she analyzes everything that happened she gets wound up. Luckily, I know this about her, and I know how to get her feet back on solid ground.
Once we’re in my office, I sit at my desk as Tracy takes her usual spot in front of me. “Okay. So give me the rundown of today’s chaos. Should I pop some popcorn? Is it that good?”
When she looks up, a little confused, she sees me laughing. She laughs too, pushes up her glasses, and starts going through the day’s events. This is where she is comfortable. Giving me a detailed blow-by-blow of everything from employee issues, maintenance updates, guest complaints, compliments and suggestions, and so on. It seems she handled things perfectly, and I tell her so. After I give her solutions to a few problems she wasn’t comfortable handling herself, she leaves, and I get to my email that is unsurprisingly full.
The next few hours are spent returning phone calls, texts, and emails, going through mail, and other monotonous routines that would typically be spread throughout the day. Sitting back in my chair, I rub my neck and shoulders, trying to release the tension that isn’t entirely from sitting at my computer too long. One more day and I’ll have a weekend to regroup and clear my head.
Except I have to go out to dinner with Gabriel. Damn. Part of me wants to cancel, but that would be rude on a level I’m not comfortable with. Plus, it will be good to have Novas Alturas as a friend. That kind of networking is excellent for The Clara Sea. I’ll go and enjoy myself, but will avoid doing so again, should he ask. I really need time to absorb everything that’s happening with Ian and what my feelings truly are for him. I keep trying to deny it, but something is there, something deep that is both intriguing and completely terrifying.
Tracy knocks at the door and pops her head in. “Hey. Something just arrived for you.”
Looking up, I see her mischievous smile, and it awakens the butterflies in my stomach. I have a suspicion it has something to do with Ian. As she walks toward me holding a beautiful box that is small and rectangular with an elegant finish that looks like antique linen, my heart starts beating faster.
She hands me the box, so light it seems empty. I set it down and stare at it, waiting for Tracy to leave. Her voice sounds like a mumble as she’s walking away. I have no idea what she said.
I wait a few seconds longer, hoping whatever’s inside doesn’t make my heart explode and my body beg to be near him. Wishful thinking, as Ian McAlistair has made it his mission to slowly break me down, piece by piece, until I finally surrender to his will. Inside this simple box, lying on a bed of soft white silk, is a single pink rose, identical to the one I’m holding in his drawing. Its classic, elegant perfume infuses the air around me and permeates another layer of armor protecting my heart.
Sixteen
Ian
It’s Friday, almost noon. Twenty-four hours ago I was on the proverbial cloud nine as I pulled up to Charlotte’s condo for what would turn out to be an amazing lunch date, filled with interesting conversation, charming humor, and a blossoming hope that maybe we’d crossed a threshold and could move forward, albeit slowly.
Apparently I was wrong, because she dug her heels in the sand when I asked her to dinner tonight with her bullshit, let me check my schedule and get back with you, that actually pissed me off so badly I had to walk away to keep from calling her out. Now I’m stuck here, completely on edge, waiting for her to text me her answer, knowing it’s going to be no, yet hoping, almost desperately, that it will be yes.
When I got back to the office yesterday, after I’d calmed down a bit, I did sit in a daze replaying our conversations again and again, as I told her I would. I kept picturing her face in all its expressions…happy, curious, serious, sad, thoughtful—each one beautiful in its own way.
I had never taken the time to observe the nuances of a woman’s facial expressions before, other than what I expected to see during sex. Strangely, the effect it had was that it’s made me miss her, badly. I wasn’t even thinking about all the things I want to do with her physically; all I wanted was to sit and converse with her, watching her emotions shift and change from a breathtaking smile to a shy blush, an eye-opening surprise to sad longing and everything in between. It’s like listening to an orchestral film score as it follows along with the story, making it more interesting, exciting, and emotionally provoking.
When I replayed the conversation about the portrait, a happiness swelled inside me. I thought about the deep affection she has for it, like I do, and how it’s like a connection between us.
That’s when it hit me, the flower…that delicate pink rose that made her smile in my vision. I decided to give her one for real, hoping it would make her smile again.
I wanted to personally choose the flower. It had to be perfect, so calling the florist and placing the order wasn’t an option. Luckily, my first stop had what I was looking for. The rose was exactly like the one I drew and was so flawless it almost looked fake. When the woman took it out of the case for me to look at, its scent filled the space around us.
I’m not a big flower person. I know quite little about them and never really bothered to consider how magnificent it could be. Yet that one literally smelled so good it was sensual. I imagined Charlotte’s reaction. How it would make her happy, knowing it will make her smile. I pictured her eyes slowly closing as its fragrance surrounded her, having the same bewitching effect it had on me.
“This is the one,” I told the lady behind the counter.
She smiled and placed it in a beautiful box lined with silk. “You have excellent taste. Bewitched is one of the most popular tea roses out there. Revered for its classic beauty and scent.”
I was a little confused. “You said Bewitched. Are you saying that’s the name of this particular rose? I thought a rose was just a rose. Maybe distinguished by color or something.” What the hell do I know?
She laughed. “Roses are big business, Mr. McAlistair. There are actually rose breeders that create hybrids, all of which are given specific names. They can go on to win awards at various shows around the world. It’s quite a big deal. This one happens to be named Bewitched. An appropriate name, wouldn’t you say?”
I had to laugh and told her, “Yes, and you have no idea how fitting that is for the woman who’s about to receive that lovely rose.” What are the chances the rose I drew for her, that I found in the flesh, per se, is known as Bewitched? I’m looking forward to telling Charlotte that story.
I paid the woman extra to make sure it was delivered right away, and she guaranteed that it would be. Yet I’m beginning to wonder if it had the desired effect, since I sti
ll haven’t heard from her. I’m tempted to just text her and tell her I’ll pick her up at seven. Patience and consideration be damned.
Jackson gives a quick knock and opens the door, and I’m happy for the distraction. “Jackson. How’s your Friday going so far?” I say, trying to act normal.
“From the looks of it, better than yours. What’s got you so lost in thought? A certain faerie named Charlotte?” He’s still thoroughly entertained by my predicament with her. I know why—dear friend that he is, Jackson sees it as a payback of sorts. I look past it, because I’m now seeing that I’ve had it way too easy for way too long.
“As a matter of fact, yes. I thought yesterday went exceptionally well and was hoping to have a repeat tonight. But she wouldn’t commit while we were together. Said she would let me know. She hasn’t, and it’s making me fucking nuts.” I’m tapping my finger annoyingly on my desk.
“I told you, you’ve got your work cut out for you with her. She’s more complex than what you’re used to. Be patient, man. She’ll come around.”
At least he seems hopeful.
“After Wednesday’s meeting, I stopped by to visit Nana.”
I give him an inquisitive look with a raised eyebrow. He looks down in guilt, exactly like his cohort did when I questioned her knowledge of Charlotte’s name.
“Mmm hmm…little do you know, she took it upon herself to do some private investigative work on Charlotte. Not because she was being nosy or looking for dirt. It was because she wanted to see if she could connect the dots on why Charlotte is so afraid of her attraction to me.”
Jackson’s brows pull together. “You must have been having some pretty in-depth conversations with Nana on that topic. Should I be regretting giving up her name?” He doesn’t like the idea of potentially betraying Charlotte, but in reality, he didn’t. My tenacious grandmother has a way of getting what she wants.
The Essence of Fate Page 15
