Kate Hoffmann - Ian

He set the bag down, then turned to Marisol, frowning. “You seem-”

“What? I’m fine,” she said.

“Preoccupied,” he finished. “If there’s something wrong, we should probably talk about it. You can be straight with me Marisol. We’re certainly not in a position where we have to hide anything from each other.”

She laughed softly, but the sound was forced. “There are always things to hide.”

“Do you regret what happened last night?”

Marisol shook her head. “No. Not at all.”

A rush of relief came over him and Ian crossed the distance between them and took her in his arms. “Good.” He bent and kissed her and she offered no resistance. Instead, she seemed to melt against him. Her lips parted and he drank deeply of her taste, like a man dying of thirst in the desert. When he finally drew back, Ian noticed that her face was flushed and eyes clouded with desire.

“You look tired,” he said.

“I haven’t slept since you dropped me off.”

Ian frowned. “You’re going to run yourself down and then you’re going to get sick.” He took her hand, then grabbed the bag. “Come on. Let’s get you some dinner and then I’m going to put you to bed.”

“I can take care of myself,” Marisol said.

“I’m sure you can. But you aren’t.”

She grabbed his arm and pulled him back, then practically jumped into his arms and kissed him. Ian couldn’t explain her odd behavior except that she did look exhausted. He dropped the bag on the floor and slipped his hands around her waist, picking her up off her feet until her body slid along his.

He felt himself grow hard with just the brief contact and he pressed her back against the wall and skimmed his hands over her body, his mind already on the pleasures of sex with Marisol Arantes.

She wore an odd mix of clothing, the silk dress from the night before and the paint-stained T-shirt he’d found her in the morning they’d first been intimate. When he tried to take them off, she pushed his hands away and Ian decided maybe there was something wrong.

Last night, she’d responded without hesitation or inhibition, but now she seemed to be a bundle of jittery nerves. Was this just a passing mood or was he supposed to read more into it? “Do you want me?” he asked, his mouth trailing down to the soft spot at the base of her neck.

She ran her fingers through his hair. “Oh, yes.”

“Then say it,” he demanded.

“I want you. I do. It’s just-”

“What?”

“There’s someone here.”

The words hit him like a punch to the stomach. Someone? Another man? Was that why she was so edgy? He drew back and looked down into her eyes. “Right,” he murmured, nodding his head. “I’m sorry. I should have called first.”

“No, it’s not another man. It’s Sascha. You met her at the party last night. She’s upstairs. We’ve been…working.”

He scolded himself for jumping to conclusions, angry that he’d even allowed a bit of jealousy to creep in. Hell, this wasn’t supposed to get so serious, so fast. He glanced over at the door, suddenly anxious to leave. “Ah, business. Well, I’d better let you go then.” He kissed her forehead, then picked up the bag and placed it in her arms. “Eat something. And then get some sleep. I’ll see you…when I see you.”

“Yes,” Marisol murmured. “Me, too.”

Ian walked to the door and pulled it open, then took one last look at her.

“You’re still going to pose for me, aren’t you?” she asked.

“Call me,” he said.

The door closed behind him and Ian drew a deep breath, then slowly let it out. What the hell was going on? He’d never in his life had that kind of reaction, that immediate rush of jealousy. He barely knew Marisol Arantes and he was worried about the other men who might be interested in her. This was getting out of hand fast and the only way to stop it was to put some distance between the two of them.

Ian grabbed his cell phone from his pocket and hit the speed dial for Marcus, hoping that his brother would be free. He needed to enjoy a few beers with a dispassionate buddy. If his younger brother couldn’t snap Ian back to reality, then no one could.

Marcus didn’t pick up, but Ian left a message on his voice mail, then headed back to the station. He’d finish the paperwork waiting on his desk and hopefully, by the time he was ready to head home, he’d hear from Marcus.

Anything to take my mind off Marisol , he mused as he drove toward the station. After all they’d experienced together, it was odd that a tiny sliver of jealousy had struck him so hard. But then, she could have been with another man. Marisol was a very sexual woman, a woman who acted on her desires. How did he know there wasn’t another man who might be better at satisfying those desires than he was?

When he pulled the squad car into the station parking lot five minutes later, he noticed his brother’s truck parked out front. Ian hopped out of the Mustang and strode inside. Marcus was chatting with Sally at the front desk, deep into a discussion of hull design and sail dimensions.

“I was just going to call you,” Sally said. “Your brother is here.”

“I can see that.” Ian beckoned for Marcus to follow him back to his office. Marcus, dressed in a faded T-shirt and baggy shorts, flopped down in the guest chair and idly began to flip through a copy of Law Enforcement Monthly .

“I just left a message on your cell,” Ian said.

“I know. I was talking with my new boss, Trevor Ross, and couldn’t put him on hold. I figured I’d come over here and see you since I thought we might go out for a pint or two.”

“So, how’s it been going, baby brother?” Ian asked.

“I’ve been living like a monk, if that’s what you’re asking. I’m moving out to the boat tomorrow. How are you doing?”

“Great,” Ian said. In truth, he felt as if everything he’d enjoyed over the past few days had suddenly gone bad. What had begun as a simple sexual relationship, had grown more serious than he was willing to admit. He considered Marisol his, exclusively, though nothing had been decided between them.

“No women?” Marcus asked.

“I plan to win this bet. Piece of cake.” Ian didn’t like lying to his brother, but better to keep him in the dark for now. The whole pact had been a ridiculous idea from the start, so if he accidentally broke it, his brothers would have to understand. Having sex with Marisol hadn’t really been an accident. It had been a premeditated act of desire, one that he’d thought about from the very moment he’d met her.

“I’ve been thinking this probably isn’t going to work,” Ian said. “How are we supposed to learn anything about women if we stay away from them?”

“Celibacy is supposed to give us perspective,” Marcus said, peering over the top of the magazine.

“Why do I need that?”

“Maybe you’ll figure out why you behave the way you do around women?”

“But what if the perfect woman came along and everything was just right and I knew she was the one. And then, I had this stupid pact to think about. Would you pass up your one chance at a woman like that?”

Marcus thought about his answer for a long time, then shrugged. “How would you know she was perfect? Are you talking about someone who is really hot? Or someone you’d want to spend the rest of your life with?”

“Both,” Ian said. “Hypothetically. I mean, would you walk away from someone like that?”

Marcus sat up and tossed the magazine aside. “I don’t know. I suppose if I really believed she was the one, then you and Dec would understand. And what’s the point of letting the right one get away just because of some silly pact. It defeats the purpose, don’t you think?”