Bosom Buddies (6 page)

Wait a minute, that’s right, she
had
helped him out, even when he didn’t want her help. And now she was having a problem because he had tried to help her out?

“So, we’re clear on the rules?” she asked.

Ian’s eyes narrowed. “Let me get this straight. It’s okay if you walk into my life, help with Anne and Ryane, but I can’t put Dr. Neighbors in his place?”

“I’m helping, you were solving. That’s the difference.”

“I think the difference is that you don’t know any more about this friendship stuff than you say I do. Friends help friends. If paying a little visit to a doctor is considered too much, then what do you call a woman who’s put her whole life on hold to help care for an infant?”

Allie pulled away, scooting as far away on the couch as she could get. She’d started this conversation feeling quite righteous, but suddenly she was feeling nervous. “I’d say . . .”

She racked her brains for something as she stared at Ian’s mouth. She started thinking about kissing, not about arguing, and that was a huge mistake.

He moved closer, closing the gap. “Allie? You were saying?”

Saying?
She didn’t think she’d been saying anything, at least not anything that mattered. “What?”

“The difference?”

“The difference?” They were different, too different, she reminded herself, though she couldn’t quite bear to pull her eyes off his lips. They were far too different for anything to ever work out between the two of them.

“Allie?”

But regardless of those differences, Allie found herself longing to hear Ian say her name, a soft, caressing question, asking if she’d put her lips on his, asking if she’d . . .

She shifted her eyes from his lips to his eyes, but that didn’t do anything to calm her racing heart. She focused on his ears.

Her heart’s erratic beating slowed. Actually, when she really looked at them, Ian’s ears weren’t all that attractive. They sort of stuck out a bit more than was fashionable, unless your name was Dumbo.

Sighing with relief and concentrating on his ears, she said, “I’m sorry, you’re right. We’re friends, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t chase down everyone who messes with me.”

“Okay, I’ll try,” he said grudgingly.

“And next time you have a starving infant on your hands, I’ll try and wait until you ask for help,” she offered.

They both laughed and the tension was broken.

“But as long as we’re talking about helping, there’s one other thing we should probably talk about and get out of the way right now.” It was best to strike when he was in a good mood, or as good a mood as Ian was ever in.

He looked nervous. “What?”

“Well, there’s Anne’s release from the hospital and my inviting her here.”

Ian’s eyes narrowed. “You keep insinuating yourself deeper into my—our—lives,” he grumbled. He didn’t look any happier about the prospect than she was.

“As soon as I can, I promise I’ll step right back out.” The sooner the better. Ian was uncomfortable. Her eyes slipped to his mouth and she quickly bounced them back up to his ears.

Yes, the sooner they went their own way, the better.

“You two already decided, there’s not much left for me to say.”

“But you won’t be mad?” she asked, and then made a horrible strategic error: she let her eyes meet his once again.

“No, I won’t be mad,” he said in a low voice, which brought to mind his mouth, and she snuck a peek. Damn, another mistake. His eyes, his mouth—she should have stuck to his ears. “Come here, Allie.”

She shook her head.

Ian smiled then, a smile that sent shivers down her spine. He crooked his finger at her.

Allie shook her head but found that her feet scooted her across the couch cushion, bringing her closer to him. Well, that was just a slip.

“Allie,” he purred, just like some cat might.

Allie had read about women purring in books, but she’d never read of a man who did it, and she certainly never heard one do it. It was one of the sexiest sounds she’d ever heard, it dried her throat and constricted her larynx. She couldn’t talk, so she just shook her head.

He didn’t say another word, didn’t purr. He simply opened his arms.

Ears, Allie reminded herself.
Look at the man’s ears
, but her eyes wouldn’t obey, they were fastened on his eyes. She couldn’t stop her bottom from shuffling forward, closing the space between them. “Ian,” her voice said, without her permission either.

It was a revolt. A bloody revolt.

Her body was leading her to her downfall. Ian Ryan was all wrong for her. “Allie,” was all he said before those lips she’d been fantasizing about met her own.

He seemed so sure, so very sure of himself, and she longed to show him that she wasn’t going to go along with whatever game he was playing. She’d be cold and stiff. She wouldn’t melt in his arms the way she longed to do, she thought even as she melted.

“Ian.” She lost herself in the wonder of his lips, his kiss. She even forgot his rather ugly ears.

His hands stroked her back and she arched into him. There was a sense of recognition as he held her and made love to her with his lips. “Allie?” He asked a hundred questions with that one word, questions she longed to say yes to, but questions she had to say no to.

“I’m sorry, Ian,” she said breathlessly. She pushed against him. “This can’t work.”

“Why?”

“For all the reasons we’ve discussed. You’re the type of man who likes to be in control, I’m a woman who can’t be controlled. I like things unexpected and exciting. You like things spelled out. We’re two people who have no business even entertaining the idea of being together.”

“Are you telling me you were expecting to end up in my arms?”

She was confused, but that was just because the man had flustered her. “Why, no, as I said, we’re all wrong for each other.”

“Then you’re saying that you find being in my arms boring and unexciting?”

She couldn’t lie, much as she might like to. “That’s not what I’m saying, I’m saying that though this is pretty fantastic, it can’t work.”

His arms held her tight as he nibbled at her left ear. She couldn’t tell him no; after all, he was probably enjoying the feel of attractive ears. It wouldn’t be kind.

“Allie, tell me you don’t want me.”

She shook her head. “I can’t, but I can tell you I shouldn’t have you.”

“You want different, you want exciting, let me show you both.”

“Ian, I’m sorry.”

He released her and the loss of his arms felt like an amputation. Then he smiled. “Can’t blame a guy for trying,” he said. “I hope this won’t interfere with your friendship with Anne. She could use all the friends she can get.”

“Of course not,” Allie said. “Listen, we should talk.”

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. There are always women. You probably did me a favor. If we had sex, it might have interfered with our friendship.”

“Are we friends?” Allie asked softly.

“Sure thing. Listen, I’ve got to run. Talk to you later.”

He didn’t actually run. Ian walked with as much dignity as he could muster to the door. Of course she didn’t want him. Why would she?

Allie McGraw was smart and sweet. She could have any guy she wanted. Why would she pick him?

Oh, Ian knew he was good-looking enough and had enough money to be relatively attractive to most women, but he was a poor risk. He’d grown up in the system. His parents, from what he remembered, were trash, pure and simple. The only other family he could claim was Anne.

Only Anne had ever seen who he really was. A suit, that’s what Allie saw when she looked at him. She’d said as much. Well, he was. Business was money and money was security. Ian would probably never know the security of a family other than Anne, so money was how he could protect himself.

He should never have let Allie know he wanted her. He shouldn’t have wanted her. She was out of his league—light-years out of his league. Ian painted on a mask of disinterest. He hadn’t really wanted Allie. She wasn’t his type. He could have any woman, well, any of a certain type of woman.

Allie wasn’t that type—wasn’t his type.

He’d do well to remember that.

CHAPTER SIX

“Are you comfortable?” Allie asked for the thousandth time. She knew she was pestering, but she couldn’t seem to help herself.

Anne just smiled. “I’m fine. The room’s fine. The bed’s fine, and I remember where the bathroom is.”

Allie sank into the chair at the side of Anne’s bed and smiled at the sight of her new friend cradling the baby. “I’m sorry.”

“You ready to talk about it?” Anne asked.

Allie didn’t have to ask what
it
was, or better yet, who
it
was. “No.”

Anne looked sympathetic. “Ian won’t talk about it either.”

“About what?” Allie asked innocently.

Anne wasn’t buying it. “About whatever went on between the two of you.”

Allie fiddled with Ryane’s blanket, avoiding Anne’s eyes, which seemed to see far too much. “I don’t know what you mean. Ian seems just fine to me.”

“Sure you do.” Anne reached over and squeezed Allie’s hand. “And Ian would seem fine no matter what. It’s his best defense, you just have to look a little deeper.”

“He’s been worried about you, that’s all. Now that you’re home and starting to heal, he’ll be fine.”

Anne shook her head. “You’re a nurse, Allie. I know you work with babies and new mothers mainly, but I also know you can look deeper. Take another look, Allie.”

Allie stood and shook her head. “You’re wrong,” she whispered.

Anne smiled a knowing smile. “And I say you’re the one who’s wrong. So, what are we going to do about it?”

Allie took a couple of steps toward the door. “There’s nothing to do.”

Anne just nodded. “If you say so.”

“I say so.” A gurgle from the baby brought smiles to both women’s faces. “Let’s not worry about Ian—he’s a big boy. Ryane, now, she might need some fussing over.” Allie planted a light kiss on Ryane’s forehead.

“Well, now that I’ve browbeat you, maybe it’s time I remembered to thank you,” Anne said.

“Don’t worry about it, I’m going to enjoy having someone to fuss over. My brothers might drive me nuts, but I kind of miss them showing up at my door.”

“You’re a fusser, huh?” Anne asked.

Allie nodded. “I try and hide it, but I might as well confess. You’re going to discover it on your own anyway. I like to have someone to fuss over. I think that’s why I became a nurse. Just think, they pay me to fuss.”

Anne chuckled. “I have to confess, I’m not very comfortable being fussed over, not that I have much experience.”

“Well, maybe it’s time you got a taste of it,” Allie said.

Anne shrugged.

“Did the baby’s father . . .” she let the question trail off.

Anne shook her head and her smile dimmed. “No, he didn’t fuss.”

“You don’t have to tell me. I wasn’t trying to pry.” Allie shouldn’t have brought it up. “But I’m here if you want to talk.”

“Maybe I will, someday, but not today. I think I’m going to curl up with Miss Ryane for a while.”

Allie moved toward the door. “You just call if you need me.”

Anne grinned. “I will,” she promised.

“And, Anne?” Allie turned, her hand on the door.

“Yes?”

“I’m very glad you’re here.” It felt right to have Anne and Ryane in her house. It wasn’t a sense of neatness or lack of shelving that had been missing from her apartment, it had been people. Anne and Ryane filled that empty hole.

“Nagging and all?” Anne asked.

“Nagging and all. Don’t forget, you have to pay for it by withstanding my fussing.”

“A fusser and a nagger. It should be an interesting arrangement.” They both laughed.

Allie left the room and gently shut the door to give Anne and her daughter some privacy. She sank into a chair and curled her feet underneath her, and the laughter faded.

Ian.

The man was haunting her, even though for the last week they’d both done their best to minimize the time they spent together. They’d become adept at the five-minute handoff of Ryane.

But now, with Anne in her house, she’d be seeing more of him, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it. Delighted, scared . . . and underneath all the surface feelings there was a deep sense of longing.

Allie shook her head. She should have learned her lesson. For years she’d dated less-than-desirable men. As she grew older she began to suspect she just did it to annoy her brothers. But that had ended when she’d moved to Erie, ready to start a new life. That long line of losers had been put behind her. She’d thought she’d finally hit a winner with Marv Neighbors. Unfortunately, it turned out Dr. Slime was the biggest loser of them all.

Well, she was done with men. She was going to dedicate herself to her career and become one of those eternally smiling spinsters she’d read about. She didn’t need a man cluttering up her orderly life.

Anne was wrong. Ian could have any woman he wanted, and they were too different for him to actually want her in his life. Whatever they had between them was merely physical, and when she said no, he went looking somewhere else. He’d let go without a backward glance.

No, Anne was wrong and Allie was over her slight infatuation with Ian Thomas Ryan.

Anne was home with her baby and back to a strong, healthy nursing relationship. Another success for Allie. Work was going great and Allie was feeling more accepted. She chose to believe it had nothing to do with Ian’s visit with Dr. Neighbors and more to do with people finally getting to know her, but there was a nagging little voice warning her that Ian was responsible for people accepting her.

Ian, taking things in hand. Ian’s hands . . . that thought was just about as dangerous as thinking about his mouth and his eyes.

She was better off thinking about his ears.

But it wasn’t his ears she saw in her dreams as she lay dozing in the chair. That mouth, that incredibly sexy mouth was whispering kisses against her neck. “Allie,” he murmured.

“Allie,” Ian said again.

She reached out her arms and . . . touched Ian.

Touched Ian?

This wasn’t some dream, this was Ian Ryan, flesh and blood.

“Dreaming of me, sweetheart?” he asked from his position over her chair.

Allie could feel herself blushing, and that upset her as much as the dream did. “Don’t kid yourself, Ian. Remember Bull, the guy with the Harley?”

“The thief?” he sneered, glaring at her from his higher position.

Allie stood, anxious to put any remnants of her sleep-induced lust to rest. She looked at the source of her hot dreams and glared. Then she told the biggest lie she’d ever told, one of the very few she’d ever told. “Well, he might not be the most upright man I ever dated, but I wasn’t dreaming about him in an upright position.”

Ian glared and wheeled toward the kitchen.

“Did you wake her up?” Anne called from the kitchen.

“Yeah, she’s up.”

“Dinner’s ready,” Anne’s voice rang out again.

Ignoring Ian and the flutter that was threatening to overwhelm her heart, Allie bolted into the kitchen. “What do you think you’re doing? You just got out of the hospital.”

Anne, leaning on her crutches in front of the stove, turned and grinned. “Ryane was napping and I was bored.”

“You still shouldn’t be cooking.”

“I’m not, I’m heating soup. Ian says that’s all you seem to make, and there sure was plenty in the freezer. I’m just warming one.”

“Still . . .” Allie wasn’t sure what further argument to offer and didn’t relish the thought of returning to Ian in the living room, so she did the only thing a sane, confident woman would do. “I’ll set the table.”

“Guess you know where everything is,” Anne said cheerfully.

“Yeah.” Snarl. That’s what it sounded like, and it must have sounded that way to Anne too, because she turned around, a distressed look on her face.

“I’m sorry. Are you one of those cooks who can’t stand someone invading your space? I didn’t mean to—”

Allie held up a hand, stopping Anne’s apology. “No, I’m just one of those nappers who wakes up bearish. I’m sorry. It’s been a while since someone cooked for me.”

“Heated.”

“Close enough. Thanks. Guess I was more tired than I thought.”

“You were sound asleep when I came out. You didn’t even hear Ian at the door.”

No, but she’d heard him whispering in her dream, whispering to wake her. Damn the man. Why did he seem to be everywhere—in her thoughts, in her dreams, in her apartment?

She’d asked for it, she reminded herself. She’d barged into his life, not vice versa. Now she had to pay the piper.

Only she didn’t want to pay him, she wanted to slip into bed with him and not come out for a week . . . or maybe more.

Dinner was strange. The three adults sat at the table, just like a happy family. Anne at least looked the part. Ian didn’t seem any too happy. And Allie was less than pleased as well.

She couldn’t seem to shake Ian Ryan, and the longer she knew him, the less convinced she became that she wanted to.

No, she wasn’t happy at all.

“Anne, I keep telling you that you don’t have to do that,” Allie yelled through the door, her key still in the lock. “I swear, you’re as stubborn and as pig-headed as your brother.”

The sound of the vacuum died as she shouted the last part—a testament to Allie’s ability to be heard, even over a dull roar. It was something she’d perfected on her brothers. She swung open the door, prepared to do battle with her misbehaving roommate, and came face-to-face with that same roommate’s stubborn and pig-headed brother.

“You don’t have to vacuum my carpets any more than Anne does.” She brushed past him into the kitchen and deposited her grocery bag.

She knew he had followed her, not that she’d heard him—he certainly walked cat-footed for such a big man. No, she just knew he’d followed her, she could feel his presence. It seemed to be a paranormal ability that just grew stronger the longer she knew him.

Maybe she was psychic?

Allie discarded the thought. It only happened with Ian, and that didn’t make her psychic—it made her nuts. She studiously ignored his presence and began to put away her groceries.

“Making soup tonight?” Ian asked blandly.

Allie whirled, grasping for a reason to do battle. That she’d been out of sorts and surly was Ian’s fault—he’d invaded her dreams and wouldn’t let her sleep—so let him deal with the consequences.

“Do you have a problem with my soups?”

“Don’t you know how to make anything else?” he asked, just as surly as she was.

“Sure I do.”

His eyebrows lifted in apparent disbelief. “What? It’s been over a month and all I’ve ever seen you make is soup.”

Allie was annoyed enough that the sight of his eyebrows, which were just above his gorgeous eyes, didn’t bother her at all. “I make homemade bread to go with it all the time.”

“You don’t make it, you dump things in the bread maker and it does the making.”

“It’s more than you’ve done for me, Mr. ‘I eat it but won’t cook it’ Ryan.” Her back was up and she was raring for a fight. If her brothers had been around, she could have vented on them, but Ian Ryan was the next best thing.

Obviously, he was coming to a similar conclusion. “You want me to cook? I haven’t because I didn’t want to embarrass you and your soups.”

He said the soup part with a sneer that made Allie’s Irish heritage kick into full gear. “Anne and I can’t wait. Tonight, right?”

“No, you make your soup for tonight. I have to buy the ingredients and it will probably take the better part of the day. I’ll cook tomorrow. It’s Saturday, so I’ll have enough time.”

“Enough time to bury yourself,” she taunted. He smiled, but this time the sight did nothing for Allie, just annoyed her more.

“Enough time to show you how a real cook does it.”

“Yeah?” she asked, stepping right up to him.

“Yeah.”

The moment froze.

Both of them stood, a couple of inches apart, in utter silence.

“Allie?” Ian said, reaching for her before she could answer his question. His lips touched hers, setting off sparks that ignited the fire that had been smoldering since they’d first met, that had flamed too briefly when they had kissed last time.

“We shouldn’t,” she murmured.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” he said, his voice muffled because he’d barely lifted his mouth from her neck. The more he nibbled, the more difficult it became to think.

That he agreed with her was annoying. At least it was annoying while Allie was able to think about it, which wasn’t for long. Ian’s lips were distracting, and even trying to visualize his ears wasn’t helping.

“Allie,” he whispered, a thousand questions in that one little word.

Her answer to each of those questions should have been a resounding no. She’d made too many bad decisions with men. Bull. Dr. Slimeball. She didn’t want add Ian’s name to her list.

Intellectually she knew her answer was no, but her lips seemed to forget. “Yes.”

“Yes,” he echoed, his hands tugging at her shirt and untucking it.

“Ian? Was that Allie I heard?” Anne called from the living room.

“Damn,” Ian swore, disentangling himself from her. “I forgot Anne.”

“Me too,” Allie muttered, desperately trying to tuck herself in and pull herself together.

“Later,” he promised as the door opened.

Anne stood there, the baby suspended in a sling at her waist as she leaned on her crutches. She looked from Ian to Allie, then back again.

“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” she asked.

Allie felt guilty, like that time when she was a teenager sneaking kisses with Chuck . . . what was his last name? She was getting old if she couldn’t remember the boy’s last name.

“No, you weren’t interrupting. Your brother was just offering to cook for us tomorrow.”

“Ian? Cook?” Anne asked, her incredulity reinforcing Allie’s opinion that Ian was going to make a mess of things.

Despite her growing lack of brain cells, Allie grinned. “Yeah, that was pretty much my reaction, but he insists he can do it. He was mocking my soups,” she added. Maybe there was a tinge of a whine in her voice. Allie wasn’t overly impressed that Ian had reduced her to whining and sneaking kisses in the kitchen like a teenager.