Dreams of Her Own (23 page)

She sat up and looked down at him, her hair falling like a curtain around them. “Do you honestly believe I would think less of you because of it?”

“It’s just that you’re so smart—”

She pressed a finger to his lips. “Don’t even go there. Your reading disorder has nothing to do with your intelligence. Our discussions of Kant and Descartes, or music and poetry, have been some of the most stimulating conversations I’ve had in a very long time.”

He sucked her finger into his mouth. Watched her eyes go from the heat of anger to the simmer of desire.

She tugged her finger free. “Don’t. I’m not finished. Just because you’re intelligent doesn’t mean you aren’t dumb.”

Sounded a lot like Caleb’s lecture.

“You didn’t get selected for the RFP. Not because you aren’t capable of doing the work, but clearly you’re not capable of asking for help.”

Own up to it. “Yes.”

“Oh, Ian. I would have helped you.”

He wouldn’t get angry and defensive over the offer of help. Her offer, and his acceptance, of her help was the single factor that landed him the Hawkins Hall job. But, he couldn’t help but remind her. “For sex.”

She turned a lovely shade of pink. “Oh. Well. That.”

“If I’d known sex with you would be so mind blowing, I would have jumped at the deal.”

“You think sex with me is . . . mind-blowing?”

“I think sex with you is seismic. But I think making love to you is earth-shattering.” He lifted his hand to cup her face. “Here, let me refresh your memory.” Claiming her mouth with his, his heart felt lighter, yet more full than he’d ever thought possible.

Skimming his hand along her backside, he remembered her tattoo. “So, you checked the tattoo off your list. What else is left?”

Millie considered telling him the latest item on her GALL, but chickened out. She went with another secret item instead. “Well, I already checked another item off my list. I finished writing a novel.”

Ian stared open-mouthed so long, she squirmed in discomfort.

“Seriously?”

She responded with a tentative nod.

“That’s . . . that’s amazing!” He hauled her in, giving her a big hug, then kissed her with an audible smack. “What’s it about?”

Feeling a little shy, she delivered her elevator pitch.

“I don’t even know what to say, except congratulations. I’m so proud of you.”

A flush of pleasure heated her cheeks. Then he proceeded to show her just how proud of her he was.

Chapter 30

The next morning, Ian’s pressed a kiss to her mouth. “I’ve got to run. I have a to-do list that would give you a run for your money.” She smiled at his joke, but her heart throbbed slow and heavy in her chest.

They’d avoided the elephant in the room for the remainder of the night. He didn’t beg her to wait for him, or better yet, to come to England with him. And she didn’t ask. But they’d created memories she would hold close to her heart forever. And she’d enjoy his company until he left, but she’d made up her mind about one thing. She couldn’t say goodbye to him again.

“I’ll call you later,” he said as he opened the door.

“Ian?” He looked back at her. “Do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Don’t tell me what day you’re leaving. Just go.” Tears blurred her vision.

“Millie—”

“Promise me.” A tear spilled over and ran down her cheek.

Ian nodded and quietly closed the door behind him.

A few days later, Ian sat outside a coffee shop, an Italian roast in his hand, waiting for Caleb. He couldn’t get the vision of Millie asking him to leave without saying goodbye out of his head. He’d promised her. But it was a promise he could no longer keep. Things had changed.
He’d
changed.

The last few days had been busy, but the nights had been spent with Millie. She’d given him everything, but he could see the hurt and confusion in her eyes. Hurt and confusion he hoped to erase.

A chair scraped behind Ian and he turned to see Caleb swing the chair up to the table and plop down.

“So, what’s this favor?”

Ian had called Caleb the night before asking him to meet up. Now that Caleb was here, he didn’t know where to start. “Since you have experience in the area, I need you to help me pick out an engagement ring.”

Caleb sat back in his chair. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard you right. Did you just say engagement ring?”

“That’s what I said.”

“For who?”

“For me. Well, for me to give to Millie, you know, when I ask her to marry me.”

A look of utter confusion settled on Caleb’s face. “Millie? You mean the woman dressed in all brown that I met at the Park Slope job? The one who helped you with the Hawkins Hall RFP?”

“Yes.”

The furrow in his brow deepened. “So, she needs a green card, health insurance, what?” He sat forward. “Is she knocked up? Tell me you’re not the baby-daddy.”

Ian’s blood pressure rose at the implications of Caleb’s disbelief. Taking a deep calming breath, he admitted he couldn’t blame him. Caleb knew nothing about his relationship with Millie. Another guilty secret he’d kept from his friend. “No, on all three accounts.” Where to start. “I’m in love with her.”

Caleb sat back again, as his breath left in a rush. He scrubbed his hand over his face, then regarded Ian. “Since when?”

Good question. Maybe since the day she’d stood awkwardly outside the bedroom at Darcy’s in her full-body brown and thanked him for saving her life. “A while.”

“Explain, please.” He grabbed Ian’s coffee cup, took a swig, then made a face. “Blech. How do you drink that shit black?”

Ian told his best friend the whole story as Caleb sat silent and in shock for the entire half hour. Ian finished with, “I want to spend the rest of my life with her.”

Caleb eyed Ian as if he’d morphed into the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man. “Well, smack my ass and call me Sally.”

Forty minutes later, Ian and Caleb climbed the subway stairs to the busy street above.

“Tell me again why we’re going to a law office in the Financial District to buy an engagement ring?” Caleb asked as he closed the zipper on his jacket against the biting wind. “You getting a prenup to protect the vast fortune you’ve amassed?”

“Funny.” Hanging a right, they walked stride for stride. “You remember Josh from the Park Slope job?”

“Yeah. The lawyer.”

“He’s got a contact in the jewelry business, and he’s meeting us at Josh’s office.”

After an hour of poring over rings, Caleb, heaved a heavy sigh. “Dude, it didn’t take this long to build Rome. Pick something before she’s too old to marry you.”

Ian clapped his hands on his thighs. “I’m sorry to have wasted your time, Mr. Workman.” It wasn’t the money—well, within reason anyway—it was that everything he’d seen had been too . . . fancy for Millie. She needed something pretty, not flashy. Something a respectable size, not the Hope Diamond.

“I do have something I acquired from an estate last week, but I haven’t had a chance to appraise it yet. A vintage Victorian, platinum setting, one carat, with a matching band.” As he spoke, he opened a drawer in the bottom of the jewel case and lifted a pair of rings from the slotted blue velvet and laid them in the black velvet viewing tray.

Delicate filigree formed a beautiful setting for a one-carat round diamond. The same filigree encircled the band, highlighting six smaller diamonds.

Ian lifted the rings, and they winked in the sunlight streaming through the window. “Perfect.”

Darcy had insisted on throwing Millie a birthd
ay party. Since Millie wasn’t exactly a party girl, she couldn’t say she was thrilled.

“You only turn thirty once. Besides, it will give you a chance to show off your new look,” Darcy had said.

So Millie stood, clothes strewn about the bed, trying to decide what to wear. Hoping to get lucky later, she’d already chosen a black lace bra and matching panties.

Putting Ian’s impending departure out of her mind, she selected a little black dress, or LBD, as Laura had called it. Slipping the simple, swingy dress over her head, she had to give Laura credit—much as it pained her—but she really knew her style. The dress whispered down Millie’s body, stopping just above the knee.

Clean, simple lines, a scoop neck, and long sleeves worked well for Millie. Nothing to fidget with. Nothing she could get wrong. Walking over to the cubby, which frankly was no longer big enough, she stepped into a pair a black pumps with a reasonable heel. Kitten, her fashion guru had called them.

Checking her appearance in the bathroom mirror, she liked what she saw. She’d finger-dried her hair so that it hung in soft waves down her back. She’d even managed a little mascara, blush, and lip gloss. Not as ‘made up’ as she’d been after her spa torture, but pretty.

Pretty.
Now there was a word she never expected to apply to herself. While she’d never be beautiful, notwithstanding Ian’s effusive comments to the contrary, pretty worked. Mousey Millie was no more.

She dashed down the stairs and out the door to see Ian standing beside his truck, arms crossed over his broad chest, looking so sexy she could hardly believe she’d spent every night that week in his bed. He wore black slacks and a light blue shirt. Other than Ruby’s memorial service, she’d never seen him so dressed up. His casual stance quickly turned defensive.

“Hey, Millie! Lookin’ good.”

She spun to see Kenny, Cole, and Jesse standing on the corner, skateboards in their arms. “Hi, guys! Thanks!”

She approached Ian, took one look at his face, and asked, “What?”

He beamed, shook his head, and said, “You never cease to amaze me.”

She drew back in surprise. “Why?”

“You’ve come so far, and I’ve enjoyed watching you grow, step out of yourself. You took charge of your life. You accomplished so many things on your list. You obviously not only tamed those punks, but you clearly earned their respect.” He kissed her on the mouth. “I’m so proud of you.”

“What’s with Laura and Josh?” Ian asked as he wrapped his arm around
Millie’s waist and handed her a glass of champagne. “Don’t they get along?”

When they’d greeted one another, they’d called each other villain names Ian had remembered from his comic book days when the pictures helped him figure out the scenes.

Taking a sip of the champagne, she said, “Thus has it always been, and thus shall it ever be.”

Darcy approached, ending the topic of conversation. “Millie, you look amazing!”

True that. When she’d walked out of her building to meet him, he’d practically swallowed his tongue. The dress she wore swung at her hips, showing off her shapely legs, and fitting the delicate curves of her body. And that hair. He’d wanted to fist his hands in it and drag her mouth to his. Later, he’d promised himself. And if everything went as planned they’d have something else to celebrate besides Millie’s birthday.

Then there was how she’d handled herself with those punks. His heart nearly burst with pride. On the way over, she’d explained how she’d befriended the three erstwhile bullies. Millie had blossomed right in front of his eyes. And she dazzled.

Darcy took Millie over to a woman he believed was Darcy’s mother. Silver gypsy hair hung down her back, and the long skirt she wore couldn’t hide a youthful body.

“So, what happened to Millie the Brown?” Caleb clapped him on his back, his gaze on Millie’s back. “You’ve been holding out on me. Again.”

Ian’s face broke into a big smile. A dopey one he’d be willing to bet. One similar to the one he’d often seen on Caleb’s face when he talked about Jillie. “Yeah. But here’s the thing. She’s even more beautiful on the inside.”

“Spoken like a man in love,” Caleb replied just before taking a pull from his beer. “When’s the big ‘event?’” Caleb managed to make air quotes with his fingers without spilling a drop of his beer.

“When the time is right.”

“Well, don’t leave us hanging, dude.” He wandered off, in search of Jillie, no doubt.

The brownstone was filled with Darcy’s family. Laughter and good-natured ribbing seemed the rule of the day. Must have been something growing up in such a close-knit family. He’d take special care to ensure that he and Millie would have that kind of relationship with their kids.

Getting ahead of yourself there, Brand.
She hasn’t said yes, yet. And, come to think of it, he didn’t even know if she loved him.

Laura and her husband Nathan stood talking to Darcy’s father, and Josh held a little girl in his arms while another one clung to his leg, as he spoke to Darcy’s brother. Wouldn’t be long before Josh held his own child in his arms.

Millie’s parents weren’t there. Not that she’d been surprised. They were in England doing research on their latest obsession, a letter they’d unearthed in a private collection that had recently been donated to the Bodleain Library.

His eyes drifted back to Millie and followed her as she headed toward her office. There was no time like the present to start his new life with the woman he loved.

Millie needed a moment. The champagne had gone to her head, and the press of people became too much. Her o
ffice provided a little peace.

“I’ll take that,” Ian said as he slipped the half-empty glass from her hand and set it on the desk. “Come with me.” Taking her hand he led her into the hallway and up the stairs.

“Where are we going?”

“You look like you could use some quiet.”

When they reached the top of the stairs, he pulled her into the nursery and pushed the door to before enveloping her in an embrace.

“Ian?”

“Shh. Let’s enjoy the solitude a moment.”

She took a deep, calming breath and relaxed into his hard chest, enjoying the feel of his arms around her. His heart beat a steady rhythm beneath her ear, and the stress of all the unaccustomed attention melted away.

“Ian, I have one more thing on my list.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

Pushing back, she looked into his eyes. She’d miss those gray eyes, the way they sparkled when he smiled, the heat in them after he’d just kissed her senseless, and the contentment after a mutually satisfying round of lovemaking.

She took a deep breath and gazed into his eyes. “Tell Ian I love him.”

His eyes went warm and wide, as he stood silent.

Well, that went over like a lead balloon. And that same balloon settled in the pit of her stomach.

He withdrew, his hands on her shoulders.

Confused, she added, “It’s okay if you . . . don’t.” She shook her head, tears filling her throat. “Ian? What?” She had a funny feeling in her stomach, like butterflies were riding a roller coaster.

Ian sank to his knee, her hands in his, as he gazed up into her face. “I love you, too, Millie. Marry me. Discuss Kant and Descartes with me for the rest of our lives. Come to England with me. Have my babies.” He squeezed her hands. “Grow old with me.”

Emma and Knightley!

Releasing her right hand, he reached into his pocket. “If you’ll have me, this is for you.” He opened the lid of a black velvet box and her free hand flew to her mouth, as tears filled her eyes. “I—” She couldn’t breathe.
Oh God, please don’t let me faint and miss this moment.
“Oh, Ian,” she gasped. “I don’t know what to say.”

“I believe the customary response is, yes.”

They both turned to see Gloria standing outside the door, her usual gin and tonic lifted in a toast.

Millie returned her gaze to Ian’s. “Yes. Yes.”