“That’s bull, Ivy. I know what you’re feeling. I know you want me just as badly as I want you.”
“I really do…”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“Tanner…”
“Look, if you’ve got something to say to me, say it now.”
“I should,” she said with a short nod. “I really should. But I’m not going to, because apparently, I’m a coward. Good night, Tanner.”
She left and he stood alone in the brightly lit kitchen watching her disappear into the darkness.
“You’re impossible, you know that, right?” Ivy shook her head as she stepped into the kitchen the following day.
“Can’t fault a guy for trying,” Tanner told her, watching her reaction as she looked around the room.
The watch hadn’t worked. He knew that, though he still wasn’t entirely sure why not. An expensive watch would have swayed not only his mother, but every other woman he’d ever known in a heartbeat. Ivy, though, was a whole different story. So he’d tried to keep that in mind when he set up this little surprise.
The dog barked and jumped at her in excitement, as if even he knew something special was going on.
Ivy turned in a slow circle, letting her gaze slide across the kitchen as she did so. Every surface was covered in flowers. He’d bought out Carol Sands’ shop, forcing her to close for the rest of the day to make a trip into the city to stock up fresh.
There were vases and bowls filled with roses and daisies and some kind of weird purple flower. There were ivy plants and orchids and even a few tulips. The scent in the room was overwhelming and the brilliant splashes of color were a feast for the eyes.
But all he had eyes for was Ivy.
“You like?”
She smiled and looked at him. “I’d be crazy not to like,” she pointed out. “But Tanner, you don’t have to make a big statement like this.”
He shoved both hands into his pockets and shrugged. “I saw your reaction to the watch, believe me, I know. At least, I’m learning.”
Ivy winced and walked toward him, trailing her fingertips across a dark peach rose. “I’m sorry, Tanner. But when you gave me that watch as if you expected it to buy your way out of an argument…”
“It always has before,” he told her, not ashamed to admit that he’d fallen back on tried-and-true in an attempt to heal the breach with her.
She shook her head again and smiled wryly. “What am I supposed to do with you?”
“I can think of a few things,” he said, reaching for her.
But Ivy stepped back, preventing his touch. “It wouldn’t solve anything, Tanner. Don’t you see that?”
“What’s to solve? I want you. You want me. End of story.”
“I wish it were that simple.”
“It could be. You’re making this harder than it has to be.”
“And now we’re having the same argument all over again.”
They were and that hadn’t been his intention at all. There was only one thing left to do. To say. “Ivy, I’m…sorry.”
She blinked at him, clearly surprised. Well, she wasn’t the only one. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d apologized to anyone. But as he’d already acknowledged, Ivy was different.
“Whatever’s going on between us, I want to fix it.”
Reaching up to cup his jaw briefly in the palm of her hand, she whispered, “Oh, Tanner. I don’t know if we can.”
Over the next few days, the tension between Ivy and Tanner only escalated. Neither of them broached the subject that seemed to hover over them. Ivy did her job, but there were no more shared moments while Tanner worked on his next project. She steered clear of him and he missed her interference.
Which only went to prove that he’d been right about hiring her in the first place. And the next time he talked to Mitchell, he was going to tell his old friend that in no uncertain terms. If he’d never let Ivy into his life, then Tanner’s world would be just as it always had been. Quiet. Controlled. Orderly.
Well, mostly.
After all, Hairy was a part of his world now, too. And the dog had become such a part of Tanner’s routine, he could hardly remember life without the little mutt. A bath had lightened the dog’s fur color to a honey gold and a couple of good meals had already started filling him out.
Funny, when he was a kid, all Tanner had wanted was his own dog. Of course, moving from palatial hotel to hotel was no way of life for a dog of the kind he had wanted. A boy’s dog, not one of those purebred, prissy types older women and young girls carried around in their purses.
Yet, once he’d grown up and had his own place, he’d never once considered getting a dog for himself. It hadn’t seemed important anymore. Now, he couldn’t imagine why not.
Tanner and Ivy had taken the dog to the vet to get his shots and the news that in spite of being malnourished, Hairy was in surprisingly good condition. The vet guessed his age at about three and told Tanner that with love, good food and exercise, he should be perfectly fine in a week or so.
It took far less time than that.
Hairy had taken command of the glass and wood palace that Tanner called home. He slept on the designer couches, or Tanner’s bed, had his own food and water bowls in the kitchen and lay at Tanner’s feet while he worked. Ivy took him for a walk most every day when she arrived and sometimes, Tanner accompanied them. Those walks were quiet adventures though, since each of them not only refused to speak about what was between them—they also avoided even brushing up against each other. And the banked lust pulsing inside him was threatening to engulf him completely. But the damn woman was more stubborn than he’d have guessed.
She treated him as she would have an acquaintance. Someone she didn’t know very well and intended to keep it that way. There were no more easy smiles, no casual touches of her hand to his and no snooping in his office to see what he was creating next. Which was just as well, Tanner told himself since the game he was working on now starred an avenging angel with the face and figure of Ivy Holloway.
He couldn’t seem to tear her from his mind any more than he could train his body to not respond to her.
God, he wanted her.
Every time he saw her, he remembered what they’d shared on that one amazing night. But whenever he thought about reawakening the passion between them, something held him back. Maybe it was that last conversation. She’d made it clear enough she wasn’t interested in another bout of hot, sweaty sex. And damned if he’d coerce a woman into his bed, for God’s sake.