Crossing the Line: Without a Trace series, a contemporary erotic romance novel (8 page)

“Aunt Rheanna wouldn’t accept less. She’s always had an eye for antiques, but to the annoyance of collectors, she likes to change things up and make them her own. My mother was thrilled when she finally decided to follow her dream and open this place. It’s the perfect fit for her skills.”

“Did Jesus finally send a good-looking man into my hotel?” A tall brunette glides towards us, her loose-fitting clothes and green, horn-rimmed glasses clue me in that it might be Rheanna. On a lesser woman, she might look a bit like a caricature. But his aunt has a way about her that is both elegant and confident.

“Hey, Aunt Ray.” Ian hugs the woman, and she kisses his cheek, leaving behind lipstick.

“It’s about time you got around to stopping in here.” She steps back and sweeps her gaze over me. “And who is this lovely girl beside you?”

My cheeks heat with her compliment.

“Aunt Ray, this is Ella Storm,” Ian introduces, slipping his arm around my waist.

She narrows her eyes at Ian. “Does your mama know about her, or are you keeping her a secret?” Her glance quickly moves to me. “I haven’t heard about you meeting anyone, and this gorgeous woman I should have heard about.”

I find it entertaining to watch Ian squirm. “Erm, well, not exactly. I haven’t gotten around to—”

“We’re still figuring things out for ourselves,” I say smoothly, surprised at my ease. “But Ian’s told me so much about his family. I feel like I know everyone already.”

Rheanna seems mollified, but she’s a sharp woman. I wonder how long before she has us confessing that we’ve only been…can you call this dating?…for a couple of days.

“You need some meat on your bones, my dear.” She eyes her nephew’s lithe form. “Let’s get you to your room, and then you’ll come join me for brunch.” She gives Ian a look that brooks no argument, and I chuckle softly as we wait for our keys.

“Your aunt is something,” I whisper when she’s out of sight.

He shakes his head with a wry smile. “You have no idea. Growing up, whenever my parents were out of town, she took care of me. She’s the best when it comes to creating pillow forts and coming up with unusual entertainment, but you don’t want to cross her. She makes my mom look timid in comparison—and my mom’s anything but.”

Rheanna shows us to a stunning suite, resplendent with a four-poster bed and lush sitting area before a hearth, a fire already crackling and popping behind the grate.

“Make yourselves comfortable—food’ll be out in about fifteen minutes.” She fixes a ruffle on a curtain before making her way to the door. “And you better be prepared for a full update, Ian Crane. Don’t think I’ve forgotten how long it’s been since you called me.”

He looks appropriately chastised, and she nods approvingly before snapping the door shut.

“Wow. What did you do?” I ask as I sink beside him on the king-size bed.

“Mom is vocal about her worry, and she’ll call me nine times a day if she thinks something’s wrong. But Aunt Ray is a bit more circumspect about her concern. And I had strict orders to keep in touch with her after…” He trails off, suddenly uncomfortable. “I was dating someone for a long time.” He turns towards me, as though fighting the discomfort. “It didn’t end well, and things were…well, I was pretty torn up over it.” His eyes meet mine. “I went through a dark period for a while, and I didn’t reach out. I got over it, but where my mom and aunt like to talk about their issues, I tend to stay quiet and work through it in my own way.”

I nod and take his hand. “I know something about bad breakups.” I offer a small smile. “They take their toll.”

He squeezes my fingers. “Enough of that. We have a whole day to do what we wish. Have you ever been to Greenwich before?”

When I shake my head, he looks delighted. “Then we have a town to explore. Let’s pacify Aunt Ray for a few minutes, and then we’re off to see what we can get into.”

I can’t stop my grin from widening. “So you really
did
bring me here to do more than have sex?” While I’m mostly teasing, there’s a part of me that isn’t sure what we’re doing, and while I want to be okay with that, it’s not my usual M.O.

He stands and draws me into his arms. “I intend to take full advantage of this room tonight.” His lips make a path from my lips to my neck. “But I’d like to get to know you a little better out of the bedroom, as well, if that’s okay?”

Pleasure washes over me like a fresh spring rain. “Sounds perfect,” I say as we link fingers and head downstairs.

CHAPTER 8

FACEBOOK OFFICIAL

A
fter a quick snack with his aunt, who’s thankfully busy with the brunch crowd and only has a few minutes to spend with us, we wander Greenwich, finding little shops and the memorable spots small towns are known for. He takes my hand whenever he has an opportunity, and I find it natural to lean into him for a kiss. We walk quickly to keep warm, but despite the sharp chill, it’s one of the best days I’ve had in a while.

It’s long past the dinner hour when we finally return to the bed and breakfast for a late meal.

“I’m pretty sure we walked five miles,” I say as I pop another butter-laden bite of a crusty roll in my mouth.

Ian nods in agreement. “We didn’t miss much. Do you like the area?”

“Very much so. It’s beautiful. Did your aunt live here before she opened this place?”

“Nope,” he says before sipping his wine. “She and my mom are originally from Maine, actually. Portland area. But one year for a family vacation, we stayed here for a week. My aunt fell in love with it, and all she’s talked about since then was buying a place here. When she and my uncle split up, she took the profits from their house and bought this place.”

“I’m sorry to hear that it came at the expense of her marriage.”

He shrugs. “Well, for most people, it would be a sad story. But they’re pretty amicable. I think they just grew apart. They never had kids, so they could have just gone their separate ways. But we all hang out as a family on the holidays.”

“That’s amazing. I admire that.” I glance over at Rheanna, who’s talking animatedly to another table. “You’re lucky to have such a close family.”

He takes my hand, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles. “I am. And I have to remember not to take that for granted.”

The topic hits home hard, and my stomach roils. I need some space, so I excuse myself to use the restroom. It’s a luxurious suite with a small rest area off the side. As I wash my hands, I stare at myself in the mirror. My dark hair has come loose from its ponytail, hanging down in messy ringlets around my face. My cheeks are still pink from the wind, my lips bright red, and to the world, I might look like a woman away for a romantic weekend. But inside, I feel like I’m playing a part—and while Noah loves doing that, I hate it.

I want to be okay with this—dashing away for a weekend with a new lover, hiding away in this coastal town—but it’s the antithesis of who I am, and I feel like a fake.

I don’t know how long I’ve been here, staring at myself with warm water running over my hands, when someone comes in.

Rheanna appears at my elbow. “Ian sent me to check on you. Is everything okay?”

Embarrassed, I shut off the water. “Sorry — I wasn’t feeling all that well. Then I sat down on the chair, and I must have dozed off.” When did I become such an easy liar?

Worry creases her brow. “You two did have a long day. He was just telling me about it. Can I get you anything?” She lays a hand against my forehead. “You feel a little warm.”

I haven’t been mothered in a long time, and while I don’t know this woman, it feels…good. “I’ll be fine.” I aim for a smile, though I’m not sure I make it. “I might have overdone it today.”

“Let me get some tea for you, and I’ll send over some of Bets’s home-made crackers and soup. Fix you right up.”

Her concern warms me, and I manage a grin. “Thanks. That sounds perfect.”

We’re not quite in the dining room when she touches my shoulder. “Seeing you with my nephew does my heart good. He’s had a rough year or so. The way he looks at you…well, I know the look of a smitten man.”

I fight to keep my expression neutral, though my brain is reeling with her words. Smitten? A rough year? She pats my arm and heads off to the kitchen. If I’d driven myself here, I might make a run for the car, but instead, I return to the table, where Ian looks relieved to see me.

“I was getting worried. You looked a bit pale earlier.”

“Just felt a bit light-headed.” And still do. But I paste a small smile on my face and toy with my spoon.

I can feel Ian’s gaze on me, even though I can’t quite look at him.

“Ella, what’s wrong?”

I shake my head. “Nothing. I’m fine. Really.”

“No, you’re not. It’s written all over your face.” When I refuse to meet his gaze, he heaves a sigh. “Let’s get out of here.”

He signals one of the wait staff and requests our food be sent to our room. Then we leave, the warmth of his fingers on my back a light propulsion. All I keep hearing in my head are his aunt’s words.
I know the look of a smitten man…
What does that mean? It’s been four days. That’s hardly enough time to be “smitten.” Or is it?

The waiter follows us to our suite, deposits the food on the dresser, then disappears, the brief respite from my honesty going with him.

Ian turns to face me, his hands resting lightly on my shoulders. “Ella, what is it? Something’s bothering you.”

I debate claiming illness, but while the lie springs to my lips, I know it’s pointless. I can’t hide my feelings. “I’ve had a great time today, Ian. Truly. But what are we doing? Your aunt thinks we’re ‘together,’” even saying that makes my face heat up, “and all it makes me think is that I don’t do things like this, Ian. I’m…responsible, a slow mover. I don’t go away overnight with a man I’ve just met.” My hands are clammy, yet my skin is cold, so I move closer to the brisk fire, staring into its orange depths. “You live in an area where I can barely afford a sandwich. You have a career and a close family and celebrity friends. I’ve got a business that’s not quite in the black, and I live in an apartment that could fit in your kitchen. Your aunt said you had a rough year. I don’t even know you well enough to understand what she means.” I lift my shoulders in defeat. “None of this resonates with the person I know myself to be. We’re crossing all sorts of lines I don’t usually tread.” I swallow and risk a glance at him. “What are we doing?”

He meets my gaze from his stance by the door. “Do we have to define it?” he asks softly.

“I want to be the kind of woman that can say no to that question, but I’m not.” I pick my fingernail, wishing for all the world that I was anyone but me at this moment. Why can’t I just enjoy time with a hot guy? Why does it always have to mean something? “I need definitions, Ian. I need to know what’s going on.”

Nodding, he joins me by the fire. He lays his hands lightly on my shoulders, drawing me back against him. “I meant what I said earlier, Ella. I want to get to know you better. I’m not sure what happened the last few days, but it’s been wonderful. And being with you…it feels good. But I can’t lie and say I know the future. You’re right: we don’t know each other that well. All I can say is this: when I’m with you, the world feels a bit brighter, and all I can think about is sharing space with you.” He runs his hands down my arms, sliding his fingers through mine. “What can I do to make you feel more comfortable?”

That’s the problem: I don’t know. I never realized how traditional my beliefs around dating and relationships are, but while Noah and Lux can hop in and out of bed with people, I can’t do that. “Could we try dating? In the traditional sense, where you ask me out to dinner, and I worry about what to wear?”

He chuckles. “Sure. Is that going to be enough?”

While I can’t answer his question, I appreciate that he asked. “Maybe?” I turn in his arms so I can face him. “This is out of my comfort zone, and I feel off-kilter. That doesn’t mean I’m not enjoying myself—I am. But I guess I’m nervous.”

“Then dinner and a movie it is.” He drops a kiss on my forehead. “Tuesday night?”

I nod.

“Let’s see.” He kisses my nose. “Dinner and a play on, say, Wednesday night?”

I grin. “Sounds good.”

He brushes his lips over my cheek. “Lunch on Thursday?”

“Sure,” I say breathlessly as his mouth travels down my neck.

“You probably have something going on with Elementary on Friday and my party’s on Saturday, so I’m thinking breakfast Sunday morning?” He slides my sweater over my head, then traces my collarbones with his fingers.

“That will probably work.”

His hands cradle my jaw, and he kisses me, his tongue finding mine. Then he outlines my face with his fingers. “By next week, we can be Facebook official.”

I laugh, a giddy thrill warming me, along with his adventurous hands as they massage my neck. “Of course. It doesn’t really happen unless it’s recorded on Facebook.”

He pulls back, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Hm. Then I better get my camera out.”

I squeal when he tickles my neck, and I back away from him, hands ready to fend off any more tickle attacks. “No, no, no. We don’t have to be that official.”