Enticing Iris

by Cherrie Lynn

  Against her better judgment, Iris sighed and nodded. “Fine. Whatever. Do it.”

  Later, as they were heading back to the hotel in the SUV, Talia leaned over and dug in one of her bags. “Oh yeah, I almost forgot.”

  Iris turned her head from watching the city lights pass by outside her window. “What?”

  A dainty pile of fabric landed in her lap. “That’s for you.” Confused, Iris lifted it for better inspection. A passing street light highlighted the soft pink hue of the bikini she had refused earlier.

  “Talia! You shouldn’t have done this.”

  Talia’s pillow-like lips curled into a self-satisfied grin. “Well, shut up. I did it.”

  “It might not even fit—”

  “It will. Trust me.”

  “Because you know all about these things,” Iris finished for her wryly.

  Talia settled back with an almost infuriating sense of triumph. “Exactly.”

  THE WOMAN WHO SHOWED up at his hotel door to pick up the boys scarcely resembled the one he’d left in the lobby earlier.

  Oh, it was still Iris, all right. But her dark hair spilled around her bare shoulders like shadowy silk, loose and lazily curled. Her flowing tank dress was a pristine white, heightening the tan she’d picked up during many pool visits with the boys. Slim gold bracelets encircled her wrists; matching necklaces draped around her neck. Her dewy skin caught the overhead lighting and glowed, subtle makeup enhancing delicate features. Those blue eyes, usually sweet and direct, now smoldered, shone, like light shining through sapphires.

  He’d left a beautiful woman. He’d opened the door to a bronze goddess, right down to her gold sandals.

  “Hi. I didn’t know if you wanted me to get them or if they were staying with you tonight . . .”

  Her voice rushed on, but Eli was oblivious. It took a moment before he remembered to breathe. “H-hey,” he forced out, struck stupid.

  “Talia did it,” she murmured, tearing her gaze away from his and pinning it to the floor around his feet. He wanted more than anything to tilt her chin up, because she should never try to hide that face. Even as he had the thought, she wrapped her arms around herself as if self-conscious of his eyes on her.

  “She, uh . . . she did good.”

  That made her eyes flicker up to his again. “Thank you,” she murmured, a gentle note of surprise in her voice. Her lightly glossed lips curled upward.

  “Iris! Iris, you look pretty!” Dylan materialized at his side. Eli dropped a hand on his shoulder. “Doesn’t she look pretty, Dad?”

  “She does.”

  Dylan launched into a tale about everything they’d seen today, while Elijah watched Iris’s delighted attention toward his son’s every word and gesture. The way her eyes lit up. The way she smiled down at him, engaged him. Goddamn. She was gorgeous. Far too stunning to take the kids and go back to her room. She needed to be shown off.

  Except he didn’t want anyone else looking at her.

  “Did you eat yet?” he asked, drawing her attention away from his son.

  “Talia and I grabbed something. How about you guys?”

  “We did, but I was thinking about taking them for gelato or something.”

  “You were?” Dylan looked up at him excitedly. “You told us to get ready for bed like three minutes ago.”

  Kids were awesome. “Changed my mind. Go put on your shoes and get your brother.”

  He was off like a rocket, leaving Eli wrapped in awkward silence as Iris stood outside. “They should enjoy that,” she said hesitantly. “Do you want me to come back, or did you want to drop them by later?”

  “I thought you might like to come with us.”

  “Oh! Really? Sure. I’d love that.”

  She blessed him with the biggest smile he thought he’d ever seen on her lips. Eli didn’t have any excuse nor explanation for the image that shot through his mind then: grabbing her up in his arms, messing up that pretty pink lip gloss with his mouth, smearing it, tasting it, seeing how breathless he could make her before his kids came back. His arms around her waist would cause her dress to ride up her perfect legs. He would feel the cool air between the fabric and her warm flesh. Her floral scent, teasing at the edges of his senses even now, would swamp him. Like a man dying of thirst, he would drink her in.

  Of course, knowing Iris, she would slap his face, and he would deserve it. He licked his lips and blew out a breath as he heard feet running up behind him, concentrating hard to keep his cock from throbbing against his fly. Naturally, the more he willed it to behave, the more eager it became.

  This was not what he needed right now, so why the fuck wasn’t he sending her back to her room? Because he was a fucking dumbass, that’s why. Grabbing the key card from the desk nearby, he let the boys rush ahead and closed the door behind him, all too aware of Iris at his side as they walked the hallway. How tiny she was next to him. How light she would be if he were to lift her and pin her against the wall. As they stopped to wait for the elevator, Dylan and Seger shoving each other’s hands away to push the button, he rubbed a hand down his overheated face.

  Iris must have thought his exasperation was over the boys’ bickering, so she stepped in and separated them. Hell, he hadn’t even been listening to them. “It’s his turn, Seger,” she scolded. “Be nice, apple slice.”

  Eli couldn’t help it; he burst out laughing. She cocked a newly shaped eyebrow at him.

  “Do you come up with these on the fly, or what?”

  “Sometimes. Why?”

  “Just wondering.” It was so dorky, but he loved it. “One day you’re going to rhyme at me.”

  Iris chuckled, watching the digital numbers change as their elevator approached. “No, I’m not.”

  “Oh yes, you are. Sassafras.” Move your ass, sassafras, he’d said to her this morning. He could think of a few ways he’d like to see her move it. It was all the sweeter for the fucking impossibility of it. She was the most off-limits woman on the face of the earth.

  Which was surely why he couldn’t take his eyes off her as they walked into the elevator. He brooded in the corner, cataloging everything about her as she stood with her slender arm resting loosely around Dylan’s shoulders. The curve of her calf beneath the hem of her dress. Her little pink toenails. The way the light cast that silvery halo onto her dark hair. What the fuck.

  Iris glanced over her shoulder at him, probably wondering why he was so quiet, surprise softening her features when she realized it was because he was leering at her like a creep. Or so he figured. He stood straighter and, with some effort, tore his eyes away to glance over at Seger. The boy was staring right at him, a knowing smirk on his face.

  Yeah, kids were awesome. Always calling you out on your bullshit.

  Sixteen

  Iris Googled allergy-friendly ice cream shops in the city for Dylan, and was happy to find one within walking distance. They left the hotel and strolled through the warm Salt Lake City night, a cooling breeze stirring her skirt around her thighs and caressing her bare arms. Except for bathing suits, she wasn’t accustomed to showing this much skin. Modesty had been drilled into her head from such a young, impressionable age that anything less was nothing short of scandalous. Her mother had been practically Victorian in her ideals. Iris could have easily rebelled, she supposed, but it had seemed safer to avoid her parents’ ire and assimilate. She’d never been the rebellious sort.

  Even now, when not a single person was around to judge her, she heard that miserable, biting voice in the back of her mind preaching, forever preaching. Sin, sin, sin, everything had been a sin to her mother. Sometimes Iris had wondered if breathing was a sin.

  Elijah Vance was sin incarnate.

  He had to be, because surely only the devil could make her body react this way from a single look. When she’d found him staring at her in the elevator, what she’d seen there in his eyes had caused every nerve in her body to light up. Jacob had looked at her that way sometimes—it was pure sultry lust. But
Jacob had made her shut down, made her want to cover up and get away. Elijah made her want to slip out of everything that kept her skin separate from his.

  God, why? Nothing had changed. He was supposed to hate her. He should be the last person on earth she wanted to press herself against, but that’s all she could think about. Everything about him drew her attention. She noticed him rub his palms on his jeans as they walked and imagined how it would feel if he took her hand. He’d done so at the Red Rocks show, seemingly without a thought as he tugged her up on the stage. With him at her side, she’d almost felt like she belonged there.

  More shocking than anything else, she was wet. With every step, she felt it, the dampness in her panties, only that scrap of cotton separating her most intimate place from the breeze. The boys talked excitedly about what flavor ice cream they wanted; all she could think about was their dad’s hands . . . big, graceful, long-fingered musician’s hands. Under her dress. On her body. Doing unspeakable things.

  Nothing wrong with fantasizing—she wouldn’t let herself feel too guilty about that. It wasn’t as if those hands would ever be on her. Last night they had probably been on some other woman’s body, doing those unspeakable things, no matter what Talia said.

  It couldn’t possibly be jealousy that was burning Iris up inside. She wouldn’t let it be that. Why should she care what Elijah Vance did? She still had to decide if it was something Heidi should know about.

  As they entered the ice cream shop, he held open the door for her, and one of those hands brushed her back as she walked ahead of him, so lightly and briefly she thought she could have imagined it. Chills skittered up the back of her neck, making her scalp prickle. But as soon as they were in the building, she was on duty, confirming that Dylan couldn’t possibly get tree nuts in his selection. She never left home without his EpiPen in her bag, but you could never be too careful. The horror of the one time she’d had to use it was always close to her, and always would be.

  After placing their orders, they ate on the walk back, Iris’s strawberry gelato heaven in her mouth. To her surprise, Eli had ordered the same thing. Iris wasn’t sure why, but she had figured his tastes would be more exotic. The boys walked several paces ahead of them, quiet in their own bliss.

  “This was a good idea,” Iris told him, trying not to watch his spoon slide from his lips as he took another bite. He nodded his agreement, not replying. Something was going on in that dark head of his, she knew it. “Sounds like you guys had fun today.”

  “We did.”

  He walked close, his arm a mere inch away from brushing hers. Her skin seemed to reach out for that touch. She had to concentrate on keeping her steps straight and not veering into him. Madness. “I probably would have had more fun with you than with Talia.” Dammit, that sounded bad. She should have said the boys, or you guys, not you.

  She didn’t look at him, but she saw him glance at her in her peripheral vision as she took another smooth, cold bite of sinful gelato. Surely it was the reason for the chill bumps on her arms. “You look like you had a good time.”

  “Oh, I did, yeah, but she pushed me into this. It wasn’t my idea at all. The last thing I need is a style makeover.”

  “She can be pushy.” And he could brood so effectively.

  “You should have warned me,” she said, finally giving in and bumping his arm with her elbow.

  “Did I really need to? You’ve met her.”

  “I guess you have a point there. I just didn’t expect . . . this.”

  “It means she likes you a lot.”

  Iris shrugged. “Not sure how I managed that.”

  “Maybe because we can smell fake a mile away.”

  Now, she did look at him. “You think I’m fake.”

  His steps slowed to a halt. She stopped with him, heart thudding gently, glancing forward to make sure Dylan and Seger didn’t get too far ahead. Everything suddenly seemed magical, the city breathing around them, the mountains watching over them. Her knees went weak when she looked up into Elijah Vance’s green eyes, shadowed by his low-sitting cap. “The concern you have for my kids, Iris, I know that isn’t fake. Making sure Dylan doesn’t get anything that could hurt him. You stepped forward in that shop before even I could.”

  She wanted to downplay it, insisting it was her job. Except it wasn’t only that. “I was at that birthday party last year,” she told him. “When Dylan went into anaphylactic shock. I guess someone didn’t get the memo, and there were macadamia nut cookies. I was there with him when his throat closed up. I’ll never . . .” She paused to draw a breath, to grapple with the building heat behind her eyes. “I’ll never forget the look in his eyes when he tried to breathe and couldn’t.”

  Elijah had gone so still that his entire life seemed to have paused before her eyes. “Heidi never told me about this.”

  Disbelief welled in Iris’s chest. “She didn’t?”

  “Where the fuck was she?”

  Oh God. Heidi had told her she called him! Had she really not bothered to let Elijah know about his son nearly dying? “She wasn’t there. I had taken him and Seger to the party myself. I had to stab Dylan with his EpiPen and take him to the hospital. I . . . I thought you knew about it.”

  He exhaled forcefully, looking over at his son with anguish clearly written across his face. Dylan and Seger had paused to sit on a bench and finish their gelato.

  “I’m so sorry she didn’t tell you,” Iris insisted. “I don’t know why she wouldn’t.”

  “I do,” he spat, but didn’t elaborate.

  “I felt so guilty. I should have double-checked the cookies. I was stupid. But I vowed that I would never make that mistake again.”

  His gaze flickered back to hers. “It wasn’t your fault, Iris. You went there prepared when their mother couldn’t even be bothered. For that . . . I can’t thank you enough.”

  “I swear, I thought you knew,” she said, her heart breaking for him. “And I have your number now. I’ll make sure you know whatever you need to know about your kids.” God, that could possibly cost her her job. But it was an injustice she couldn’t abide. This man deserved to know what was going on with his own children; he loved them so much. Iris remembered wondering, if Heidi called him, why he hadn’t come to check on his son. She’d even asked. Heidi had blown off the question.

  “Thank you,” he said, his voice quavering with emotion. “For saving him.”

  “I only did what anyone would,” she said lightly. But for the first time, Iris felt real, chilling doubt about Heidi slither through her veins. She’d been caught in one lie now. How many more were there?

  THAT NIGHT, HE WATCHED Dylan sleep.

  Iris had offered to take them, but he hadn’t let her. Not tonight.

  No one had told him. Hell, his own kids hadn’t even told him; neither of the boys had said a single word. Was that also Heidi’s doing, swearing them to secrecy? Eli could not even bring himself to imagine what that conversation had been like, manipulating innocent children into not telling their father something so important. What the fuck was wrong with the woman? Was it more ammo for her arsenal, painting him in everyone’s eyes to be a shit father?

  His son had nearly died, and no one had told him. If not for Iris, no one ever would have.

  Elijah thought he had run the gamut of emotions with everything Heidi had done to him. He’d loved her more than anything in the world once. Now he found the depths of his rage toward her knew no boundaries. If it weren’t for these kids, he would wish he’d never met her. The only good things that had come from her were these kids, and he didn’t want to give them back.

  But she’d said it once, and she was right: no judge in their right mind would give him sole custody. It simply would not happen. Maybe the only person he really had in his corner was Iris, the one person he hadn’t wanted here in the first place.

  Eli rubbed his hands together, then dropped his head into them, rubbing his face hard. He sat in a chair across from the bed—his b
ed, but he would let the boys take it tonight and crash in the other room. Or maybe he would crash right here. He couldn’t bring himself to leave them just yet. Soon, they would have a long visit with his parents, who scarcely got to see them, and then he would only have a handful of weeks left with them.

  Dylan shifted and giggled in his sleep. Even in his dreams, he was happy, so maybe Heidi hadn’t fucked him up too much. He had to do better, be a more permanent part of their lives.

  He could blame Heidi all he wanted for Dylan being with Iris when he had his life-threatening allergic reaction, but the fact of the matter was that Eli hadn’t been there, either. And a situation in which he didn’t know something so crucial about his sons’ lives should never take place.

  It never would again.

  Seventeen

  A noise pulled Iris from her dreams, so faint and muffled that for a moment she dozed on, thinking she’d imagined it. Until she heard it again. Her eyes popped open.

  Someone was throwing up in the bus bathroom, and that someone sounded an awful lot like Dylan. Throwing back her covers, Iris nearly banged her head crawling from her bunk, muttering a curse that rarely left her lips. The sound of retching reached her again as she bumped from wall to wall on wobbly legs that hadn’t yet caught up with the rest of her body.

  She found the poor thing hunched over the toilet. “What’s the deal, banana peel?” she asked, as he was always one to giggle at her silly rhymes. This time he only lifted his head to look up at her, cheeks flushed, eyes too glassy.

  “I want my mom,” he said, sounding tiny and pitiful. A single tear slid down one fever-bright cheek.

  “Oh, baby.” Iris knelt down and rubbed his back, trying to comfort him as he turned back and brought up more, his little body shaking with the effort. “I know you do,” she said once he was done. “But I’m here and your dad’s here, and you probably just have a little stomach bug, or you ate something that didn’t agree with you. You’re fine, okay? In fact, you’ll probably feel better now.”