Kate Hoffmann - Ian

A few moments later, Agent DiMarco appeared from the rear of the gallery. He helped her to her feet. “You did fine,” he said. “You got everything we needed and then some.”

“What’s next?” she murmured.

“We watch Barnett,” DiMarco said. “We wait for him to ship the painting, and then arrest him. He goes to trial, you testify and he goes to jail for a long, long time.”

“And my father?”

Agent DiMarco shrugged. “You heard what he said. As far as we’re concerned, he had no role in this at all. He’s in the clear.”

The door to the gallery burst open and Ian strode in, followed closely by Agent Phillips. “Are you all right?” Ian asked.

Marisol nodded. With trembling fingers, she removed the microphone taped to her chest and handed it to Agent Phillips. “Am I finished now?”

Phillips nodded. “We may have a few more questions at a later date, but I think you’ve done enough for one night. Thank you, Miss Arantes. We’ll be in touch. And call us if Barnett makes contact again.”

Marisol nodded and watched as the two agents walked out of the gallery.

When they were gone, Ian gathered her in his arms, hugging her fiercely. “When I heard you scream, I nearly jumped out of my skin. I swear, if I ever see Barnett again, he’ll be brushing his teeth from the back of his head.”

Marisol nuzzled her face into his chest. “Take me to bed,” she said. “To your bed. I want to sleep late and then I want to spend the entire day making love and then I want to paint you again.”

Ian bent to meet her gaze. “That might have to wait.”

“Why?”

“Well, we’ve got the big firemen’s picnic tomorrow and the Fourth of July celebration in town on Monday, and there’s a parade I have to lead, a pie-baking contest I have to judge and a bicycle rodeo that I have to supervise. I know it sounds pretty small town for a sophisticated city girl like yourself, but there is a dance tomorrow night.”

“I guess I’ll have to spend the day alone in bed,” she said.

“I was thinking I might need a date for that dance,” Ian said, toying distractedly with her hair. “We’ve been sleeping together for a while now. Maybe we ought to go out on a real date.”

Marisol sent him a sideways glance, then smiled. A date sounded good. In truth, a date sounded like the perfect thing for the two of them. But she wasn’t quite ready to announce their relationship to the world. “Could we keep things to ourselves for a bit longer?” she asked. “I might need some time to adjust to having a boyfriend.”

Ian frowned. “You don’t want to go out with me?”

“I do. But all this has happened pretty fast. Don’t you think we ought to spend a little more time together before we get all the town gossips buzzing?”

He nodded. “You’re probably right.”

“But who knows? I might just run into you at the picnic and we could have an ice cream together. Or maybe share a dance? And if you’re lucky, I might agree to meet you back at your place later on.”

Ian kissed her softly, his tongue damp on her lips. “I think it sounds like a good plan.”

Marisol groaned. “No more plans. I’ve had enough plans for a lifetime. Let’s just call it a…start.”

Ian nodded. “A beginning.” He slipped his arm around her shoulders and they walked to the door of the gallery. When they reached the door, he turned and faced her. “Do you regret that we started in the middle? That we didn’t date and get to know each other before we…you know.”

Marisol shook her head. She couldn’t imagine their relationship beginning any other way except with wild, passionate sex. “If you would have asked me out on a date that first day, I probably would have said no. After David, I was pretty determined to avoid men.”

“You would have refused me?” Ian asked, surprised by the revelation.

“Yes. But then, you offered me the one thing I couldn’t resist.” She ran her fingers down his chest, then grabbed his belt and yanked him against her body.

Ian chuckled. “I guess I have your number, don’t I?” he said.

Marisol pushed up on her toes and kissed him playfully. “Yes, you do. And I expect you to use it at least once a day.”

His hands circled her waist and he picked her up and wrapped her legs around his hips. “Now there’s plan,” he said, kissing her neck.

“A very good plan,” she murmured.

“WHERE ARE WE GOING?”

Marisol stood at the end of the bed in her apartment over the gallery, fresh from the shower, her naked body wrapped in a towel. She was three days away from the opening of her gallery and Ian had insisted on taking her away from all the work she had to do.

“I’ll tell you when we get there,” Ian said.

She walked to the closet. “Unless you tell me where we’re going, how am I going to know what to wear?”

“Just wear one of those pretty dresses you have. And be sure to wear underwear. Underwear is important.”

Marisol turned from the closet and looked at Ian. “Why will I need underwear?”

“Because I don’t want to have to be thinking of you not wearing underwear. I want all of that,” he said, pointing to her body, “covered.”

“Since when have you turned into such a prude?” she asked. “I thought you liked my body. I certainly like yours.”

Ian rolled over on the bed, then jumped up and began to rummage through her underwear drawer. He plucked out a black thong and a lacy little scrap that could barely be called a bra. “I can see I’m going to have to buy you some respectable underwear.”

Marisol giggled. “And what is respectable underwear? Panties that attend church regularly? Perhaps a bra that does volunteer work at a local hospital?”

“You know what I mean.”

She grabbed a dress from the closet, then sat down on the bed next to Ian. “If you want a respectable girlfriend, I don’t think I’m the one, Ian Quinn. You know who I am and how I live my life. Without underwear. Why would you want to change me?”

“I just want to change you for today,” he said. “Then you can go back to being who you are. I love who you are.” He paused, reaching out to caress her cheek. “I love you.”

Marisol blinked, the sentiment catching her by surprise. She fought back a surge of emotion as she leaned over and kissed him. He’d never said it out loud, but now he had. And it felt so good to hear it. “I love you, too.”

Ian grinned, like a little boy who’d just been handed a key to the candy store. “You do?”

Marisol nodded. “Do you know why I love you? Because you always tell the truth. Now, tell me why I have to wear underwear.”

He groaned, grabbing her around the waist. “Because we’re going to dinner at my parents’ house. Once a month, the whole family gets together for Sunday dinner and I thought it was about time I introduced you to the family.”

Stunned, Marisol backed away from Ian. “Today? Did you tell them I was coming?”

“No,” he replied. “I thought it could be a surprise. But they won’t mind. There’s always enough food and room for a guest or two. My sisters bring salads and stuff and my mother cooks a huge feast.”

“But I can’t go. I don’t have anything to wear,” Marisol said. “And I don’t have any underwear. I can’t meet your mother wearing this.” She held up the thong. “I mean, what if my skirt blows up…or-I can’t.”

“You don’t have to be nervous,” Ian said. “They’ll love you. You’re talented and funny and you’re exactly the kind of girl my brothers and sisters would enjoy.”

“How many brothers and sisters?”

“I have four brothers and two sisters and two brothers-in-law and two sisters-in-law. And nine nieces and nephews.”

“So, I’ll be meeting twenty-one people today, in a shabby dress and obscene underwear?”

Ian took her hand. “I’m the one who should be worried. I made a deal with my brothers that I’d stay away from women for three months. The day after I made the deal, I met you. So much for celibacy.”

“Why would you make such a ridiculous deal?” she asked.

“It was like a dare,” he said. “And with my brothers, you can’t turn down a dare. And there was money involved. The guy who stayed celibate longest got two thousand dollars. And if anyone enjoyed the pleasures of the flesh before the three months were up, they had to pay an extra thousand.”

“So you owe two thousand because of me?”

Ian nodded. “But you were worth every penny.”

“You didn’t even try to resist,” she said.

“I know. From the minute I saw you driving that sweet little sports car, I was a goner.” Ian grabbed her hand and pulled her down on the bed, pinning her hands above her head. He kissed her softly, running his tongue along her lower lip. “And my family will be goners the minute they meet you.”

“Promise?” she asked.

“You are the most important person in my life, Marisol, and it doesn’t matter how they feel about you. It won’t change my feelings.”

“They could hate me,” she said.

“I think they’ll love you. Now, where is the pretty blue dress you wore the day I met you? Wear that-with underwear, of course.”

Marisol reluctantly crawled off the bed and rummaged through her top dresser drawer, frantically searching for her most conservative lingerie. From the bottom of the drawer, she pulled a pair of white cotton bikinis and held them up to Ian. “All right,” she murmured. “I can go.”

A few minutes later she was dressed and she stood in front of the mirror and rearranged her hair for the last time. Ian walked up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders, then kissed her neck.

“How do I look?”

“You look exactly like the girl I fell in love with.” Ian smiled. “Perfect.”

Marisol watched him in the reflection of the mirror, this handsome man who had walked into her world and captured her heart. Someday, maybe she’d be able to understand exactly how two people so determined not to fall in love had done just that. For now, it was enough that they’d found each other. And that they’d love each other forever.