“Is there something else you have to tell me, Ian?”
Is it my worry reflecting back at me in his eyes or is it his own, generated by my probing question? “Why do you ask?”
“I sense you’re holding something back, something you feel guilt over. Am I right?” I never take my eyes off him lest I miss any of his nonverbal cues.
Completely shocking me, he nods and hangs his head, refusing to look at me. That punch of nausea assaults my stomach again as I fight the urge to vomit. “Let’s have it, then. Get it all on the table, please.”
He looks up again and there’s actually amusement in his eyes. Now I’m truly flummoxed but I wait as patiently as I can, my rocking knee the only evidence of my anxiety.
“It’s embarrassing and stupid but I do need to tell you, Ella. It’s just that when the woman came into my office, I actually became physically aroused. It infuriated me.”
Well.
I sit back to consider his confession. I look at his face: he’s openly wearing his guilt. It’s not as bad as I had been imagining but it certainly doesn’t elate me. Still, I could understand it since his relationship with Natasha was predicated on sexual attraction… and in the final analysis, sex was really all it was other than bad blood. It’s not out of character for him, either, since it doesn’t take much for him to get, ahem, engaged. People can’t help who they are physically attracted to, can they? Even if a person is deeply in love, that person can still be physically attracted to another. I recall my uncontrollable reaction to the luscious male morsel that is Daniel Butler. It’s biology. Or chemistry. Or is it physics? Whatever.
My eyes volley back to his anxious ones. He’s barely breathing as he watches me digest his confession. I choose to take the high road and give him a break… this time. Reaching for his hand, I squeeze it and scoot closer to him. “It’s okay, Ian. I understand that these things happen.”
Genuine shock is etched on his face. “You do?”
“Of course.” My curious hand travels from his hand to his thigh… to his crotch. “But,” I whisper in his ear, “I’ll need for you to demonstrate exactly how you became excited.”
Before he can reply, I begin to kiss and lick his neck, working my way down to his collar. Pushing it open, I bite his neck. In one fluid motion, he stands and sweeps me up into his arms, proceeding to rush us up to the bedroom. The rooms flash by my eyes in a blur and in our wake is an echo of my giggles. My boy is so damn predictable.
Chapter 39
“Hello Sarah? This is Ian Blackmon. Is my grandfather home?”
The genteel voice on the line sounds pleasantly surprised. “Ian! So nice to hear from you. I know your grandfather will be pleased but I’ll let you be the one to surprise him. Hold the line for a moment.”
A minute of muffled static buzzes in his ear and then a booming voice travels across the miles of fiber optics. “Hello?”
“Hello, Edward? It’s Ian. Ian Blackmon.”
“How many Ians do you think I know, young man? For God’s sake, I’m your grandpa. Out of all my grandchildren, you’re the only one who calls me by my given name. Why, pray tell?”
Ian laughs spontaneously, overjoyed to hear his grandfather sounding hale. “Because I’m a freak, as my sister is so fond of reminding me.”
Thunderous laughter is his response. “No, it’s because you’re what used to be known as a stuffed shirt. Means too conservative—you have to loosen up. What did they used to say in Hawaii? Hang loose. So why do I merit a phone call? Miss my scintillating presence?”
“Always. How are you feeling, Grandpa?”
“Uh, can’t complain. Since the accident my back aches all the time but other than that, things are pretty fine. Sarah takes good care of me.”
“Marry her already, Grandpa. Grandma would have wanted you to be happy. You know Sarah’s always had a hankering for you—probably her only flaw.”
More deep-throated chuckles follow. “Indeed? I don’t know about all that. What’s on your mind, son?”
“Do you remember the woman I used to date years ago? Natasha Yenin?”
“Blond, right? And very tall, or the more polite way to say it is statuesque?”
“Yes, that’s right. I met her in high school and then later went into business with her. We had a falling out—essentially she tried to destroy my holdings and I never knew why.”
The jovial quality of the older man’s voice disappears and the stern judge emerges from his sudden absence. Even the down-home idiom vanishes; it’s as if another man gets on the phone. “I see. Have you subsequently learned her reasons for doing so?”