Worse, he had this inexplicable desire to know more about her. Like what secrets lay behind that false bravado, for example. A trait so much like his it hurt. But then he thought about all the women whose hearts he’d broken, and he reminded himself he had all he could do to keep his own life together. Complications like Chloe, as intriguing as she was, would only lead to more mistakes.
“You must be psychic.”
Ian pulled out of his thoughts to find Josef smiling at him. “How so?” he asked.
“Booking a room. Looks like you will need to stay the night.”
Images flashed before his eyes again. Oh yeah, definitely a test. “About that,” he said, following Josef and the others to the house. “Do you have a second room available?”
“Really? I assumed...” The innkeeper looked surprised. “The two of you look quite comfortable together.”
Sure, if comfortable meant being perpetually half-aroused. “Is there a second room?”
“Of course,” Josef replied. Ian ignored his disappointment at the man’s answer. “I’ll do up the paperwork soon as I check to see Dagmar’s got the generator running.”
“Thank you.” That was one test taken care of.
Good thing, too, because Chloe insisted on meeting him at the entrance with a mug of steaming coffee. Wordlessly, she held it in his direction.
“You read my mind,” he said.
“In this case, it wasn’t so hard to do.” She turned on her heels and headed back indoors, but not before shooting him a smile that made his stomach take a strange, hard tumble.
Gripping the mug like a lifeline, Ian watched her walk away. Definitely a complication, he thought to himself. A damn fine complication. He headed off to make sure Josef remembered that second room.
“Extra towels are down the hall. We also keep a supply of toiletries on hand—shampoo, toothbrushes and other essentials. I will check to see if Dagmar has an extra nightgown you can borrow as well.”
Somehow Chloe didn’t think petite Dagmar and she took the same size, but she appreciated the gesture. “Thank you.”
“Do not give it a second thought. Our house is your house.”
So long as they were paying customers. Only a couple hours earlier he’d wanted to turn them away. Her fantasy grandfather was quite the capitalist.
Josef filled her in on a few more details, such as where she could find an extra blanket, reminded her that guests could get coffee twenty-four hours a day, and headed off in search of sleepwear, leaving Chloe alone for the first time since their arrival.
First time since this morning, really. She threw herself on the bed. As she lay there staring at the ceiling, her mind automatically went to Ian, who’d stayed downstairs to finish his coffee. His mood had shifted between when he’d left to check out the storm damage and when he’d returned. Lunch’s good humor had disappeared. Shouldn’t be surprising, seeing how this trip had been nothing but delay after delay. Now they were stuck here for goodness knows how long. The control freak in him must be ready to scream.
Rolling on her side, Chloe took a good look at her surroundings. The room was gorgeous. Small, but filled with all sorts of cozy extras, like fluffy robes and a pillow-laden window seat. Of course it helped that, to save a strain on the generator, Josef had provided her with a battery operated lantern. The light’s glow mimicked candlelight in the wake of the setting sun.
An emptiness filled her chest. The Bluebird had been created for couples—real couples, like Del and Simon or Larissa and Tom. She was an outsider amid all the romance, a fact that Ian drove home when he’d reserved a second room. Nothing reminded a woman she was alone like a man sleeping in his own bed.
You’d think she’d be relieved by Ian’s gallantry. She knew plenty of guys who’d assume because they were together, they could share a bed, whether sex was involved or not. Ian respected her privacy—further proof he was different. Sadly, it also made him that much more attractive. It was Chloe’s pattern of inverse relationships: The more disinterest, the more attractive. Seriously, though, how could a woman not find Ian Black attractive? Funny, smart, considerate, sexy Ian Black. La-roo was right; Chloe had been fooling herself to think otherwise.
A soft knock sounded on the door. Josef and his never-fitting nightgown, no doubt. “That was fast,” she said, opening the door.
“I’m a fast drinker.” Ian smiled from across the threshold. His cheeks were still ruddy from being outside, the bright pink adding to his virility quotient and causing her stomach to tumble end over end.
“I thought you were Josef,” she said, gripping the molding for support.
“Sorry to disappoint you.”
“You didn’t.” She dug her fingers into the wood. Nothing like blushing in return. “I mean, is there a problem?”
“While I was finishing my coffee, I saw a large branch blow off a tree in the backyard. Got me worried.”
“About what?” They’d already lost power and telephone service. What more could the wind do? Topple over the building?
“This,” he said, producing a garment bag.
“My dress!” With everything going on, she’d forgotten it lay in the backseat.
“Figured it’d be safer hanging in your room. The way today’s going, I didn’t want to chance a tree falling on the rental car.”
She was touched he remembered. Gathering the bag in her arms, she went and hung it on a hook on the back of the closet door. “Seems like you’re forever rescuing pieces of my wardrobe.”
“Just don’t tell me you owe me. Being stuck here for the night already makes us pretty even.”
“Alright, I won’t.” She unzipped the bag. The dress was still in perfect condition, the azure silk barely wrinkled.
“Pretty gown,” Ian said. She could feel him hanging by the door, watching.
“Told you I got a banging dress out of the deal.”
“Interesting color.”
“Apparently it’s Simon—the groom’s—favorite shade. I’m only glad the color looks good on me.”
“I’m betting most things look good on you.”
There he went, making her feel special again. “You’ve never seen me in bright pink,” she murmured, zipping the garment bag shut. Actually, he had, because she was pretty sure her cheeks were that very color. Why did he have to say such nice things?
Josef’s voice saved the day. “Turns out Dagmar agreed with you about her nightgown not fitting.” The innkeeper appeared in the doorway holding a plaid flannel shirt. “She suggested this. I hope it will suffice.”
“It’ll be perfect. Thank you.” Out of the corner of her eye, Chloe caught Ian trying to fight a smile. “Don’t say a word,” she warned him once Josef had left.
He did, anyway. “Sexy.”
The shirt was faded Black Watch plaid, soft and comfortable looking, but sexy? Not so much. “Whadda you know? There are things I don’t look good in.”
“Who said you wouldn’t look good?”
Chloe had to ball the shirt in her fist to keep her stomach from tumbling again. “Well, you’ll never know, will you?”
Hearing herself, she nearly winced. The comment made her sound disappointed, which was the last thing she wanted him to think. Quickly, she stuffed the garment under a pillow and changed the subject. “Thank you for booking a second room.” There, that should erase any notion that she expected more. “It was very considerate of you.”
“I’m not so sure I’d use the word considerate,” he replied.
No, he’d probably use no-brainer or common sense, wouldn’t he? Considerate implied a deeper relationship. She should stop before she dug herself into a deeper hole.
Fluffing her curls, she moved across the room. “Thank you again for rescuing my dress.”
“Wasn’t much of a rescue. All I did was carry the thing upstairs. It’s not like I saved you from a mugging or something.”
“Very funny.” He’d brushed off that act with modesty, as well. “For the record, I know a lot of guys who wouldn’t have even remembered the dress was in the car, let alone gone out in a storm to retrieve it.”
Ian gave her a long look. Such a long look she found herself fidgeting. With nothing close by to play with, she settled for tracing the slope of the footboard with her palm.
“Maybe you should start dating a better class of guy,” he said finally.
Yeah, well there was the rub. Better class guys didn’t want her. They rented separate rooms. “Or quit dating,” she quipped. Just her luck, the light tone she’d hoped for failed to materialize.
“Little young to close the book completely, aren’t you?” he asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.
“Am I?” As far as she was concerned, it all depended on your perspective. A lifetime of guys walking away more than made up for her age.
Ian’s eyes had yet to stop looking at her. The scrutiny reminded her too much of the other night when the air grew intimate and unsettled. Taking a seat on the other side of the bed, she grabbed one of the pillows and set it on her lap in an attempt to increase the distance between them. She never should have said anything in the first place.