House Of Payne: Scout (9 page)

“Everyone has secrets they’d do anything to keep hidden.” At that, Sass’s dark eyes did some shuttering of their own, and automatically Scout reached across the table to squeeze her hand. “You do too, so try not to hold it against him, okay?”

She squeezed her hand again, in tandem with the tightening in her chest. “Okay.”

Sass flipped her hand over to curl warmly around her fingers before she returned her attention to her meal. “And don’t hold his looks against him, either. He might not be the regular type of guy you usually go for, but believe me, Scout—he’s not too good-looking for you, if that’s what’s really hanging you up. You’re definitely worthy of Mr. Ivar Yummilicious’s attention. Hell, you’re worth a dozen of him, though I doubt I could ever get you to realize it.”

“I don’t think I have that hang-up.” Then she tilted her head and remembered the times she thought he was too pretty to be trusted. That was pretty damn shallow of her, now that she thought about it. “I don’t
think
.”

“There’s only one way to find out.” Sass crunched down on a breadstick with relish. “Keep seeing him until you know for sure.”

Chapter Nine

Keep seeing him until you know for sure.

That was easy enough, Scout thought as she shut off the car’s engine. Especially when she got a text from Ivar exactly at one in the afternoon, just like he’d promised.

Meet me at the end of Navy Pier. I’ll be waiting for you.

It wasn’t the best weather for a waterside meet-up. As she threaded through the mall and onto the famous pier jutting out into Lake Michigan, she buttoned her jacket all the way up as a chill breeze slid over her. The sun had been swallowed by gray cloud cover, and she felt inside her bag for the collapsible umbrella that resided at the very bottom. Satisfied that she had that base covered, she went about psyching herself up for whatever waited for her at the end of the pier.

A date, she reminded herself while a wild fluttering kicked up in her stomach. What waited for her was an actual freaking
date,
with none other than Ivar Fournier, aka Trouble.

She had to have a screw loose, because as much as her instincts told her to keep her guard up, she couldn’t wait to see him.

She was so screwed.

Or unscrewed.

Or something.

Man, she was losing it.

“Scout.”

She froze while her heart bounded like a startled rabbit up into her throat. Oh, that
voice
. She loved the sound of it. What was it about a man with an accent that made a woman want to drop her panties?

She turned and saw Ivar in jacket and jeans, a camera case in hand as he stood next to a signpost pointing to places like L.A. and Paris. His inky black hair ruffled in the rain-scented breeze, making her fingers itch to rake through it, and his smile chased away the chill with its unapologetic heat.

“Hello, Trouble.” She returned his smile because she couldn’t do anything else, and nodded up at the sign. “You know what they say—ignore the signs, and you’ll end up in a place you don’t want to be. Where is it you want to end up today? Paris? Delhi?”

“I am right where I want to be.” Not even bothering to look at the signpost, he closed the distance between them. To her delight, he wrapped his free arm around her shoulders the moment he was close enough and pulled her up to meet his mouth. Just like last night, the sealing pressure of his lips over hers blanked her brain out. It was so exquisite, his kiss. Of all the potential kisses she could find in the world, Ivar’s was the one that fit her best.

If that should make her thankful or worried, she had no clue.

As she struggled to decide whether she liked it best when his tongue stroked hers or it teasingly coaxed hers to do the same, he lifted his head and put an end to that internal debate. “You need to know something.”

She tried to pull in a breath that didn’t sound like she was gasping like a landed fish. “What?”

“Last night was horrible, and it is all your fault.”

“You… you didn’t have a good time at the party?” Or, she thought as her stomach dropped to her ankles, maybe he meant he hadn’t been as turned on by their make-out session as she’d thought…

“The party was wonderful.” His nose nuzzled hers before he whispered against her lips, “I had to take a cold shower because of you. At one in the morning. Then I had to crawl into a bed built for two…
alone
. A few hours later I woke up as hard as a poker. So last night was horrible.”

“Oh, I see.” She relaxed, amazed at how quickly she could swing from horror to delight with just a word or two from him. “And this is my fault because…?”

“Because you are the most addictive woman I have ever known. One taste of you and all I want is more. Even now I can barely keep my hands off you.” His mouth claimed hers again in an intense, searching kiss while the arm around her shoulders curved her deeper into him. He didn’t loosen his hold even when he lifted his head to look into her eyes as if his life depended on it and he wanted to live a long, long time. “Who else should I blame for this?”

“Change the word
blame
to
credit
, and I’ll be happy to step up and take a bow. After all, I’m crediting you for leaving me in the same state.”

He went still, and she watched his pupils dilate. “Is that so?”

She nodded, amazed now that she’d thought the day was chilly. Standing with him pressed against her, she felt borderline feverish. “Congratulations. I can’t remember the last time a man had me so hot I actually dreamed about him.”

His arm tightened, a silent, possessive claiming. “Tell me about it.”

“Tell me why you’ve got a camera with you today.” No way could she tell him about how hot he’d gotten her in a dream that had been so intense her own moans had woken her up. Sure, Sass was right about continuing to see a man that put her on edge—mainly because she couldn’t stop herself from doing so. But that didn’t mean she should be an open book for him. “Are you going to play tourist?”

“Maybe.” The corners of his mouth quirked. “Tell me about your dream.”

“You can get some great shots of the city edging along the lake from atop the Ferris wheel. Do you have a problem with heights?”

“No. Tell me about your dream.”

“Ferris wheel it is, then. We should do it now while the rain is holding off,” she added, edging back to cast a leery eye skyward before steering him toward the amusement rides. “I’m not sure this is the best lighting in the world to get those postcard-perfect shots of the city, but I don’t think it’s going to get any better.”

“An overcast sky is hardly something you can organize to perfection,
ma fleur
, as if it were one of those special events you are so good at putting together. Throughout history, weather has refused to be managed, even by a will as strong as yours.” As they got in the short line for tickets, he bent to her ear, his mouth brushing against her as he spoke. “I want to know what your dream was about.”

“I already told you, Trouble.”

His tongue touched the sensitive skin behind her ear. “You did not,
ma fleur
.”

“I, uh… I did.” She just managed to stifle a shiver as he turned away to pay for their tickets, but it took all her concentration to do it. She was in dire straits if just a fleeting caress got her motor going. “It was about you.” And a car that somehow had a bed in it. And steamed-up windows. And his determination to make her cry out when she was trying to be quiet.

“That is not good enough.” He took a moment to speak to the attendant loading people into the slow-moving, never-stopping Ferris wheel. Scout thought she saw money being exchanged before they moved to the front of the sparse line. “I want to know what I was doing in your dream.”

Warmth rose up from her neck to sting her cheeks, and no matter how hard she tried to convince herself it was because of the nip in the breeze, she knew that wasn’t it. “You were just sort of… there. You know how dreams are.”

“I know most dreams do not make a woman blush.” At the attendant’s prompting, they were quickly herded into their enclosed little gondola, and they settled side by side on the small metal bench seat. Luckily the low, lumbering hum of the wheel’s engine and the creaking that went along with the ride’s ceaseless movement drowned out the sudden thundering of her heart. “Give me a hint,
ma fleur
. Did I touch you in this dream?”

Boy, oh boy, did he ever. “Don’t you want to get your camera ready? This ride isn’t a long one, only seven or eight minutes, which means we’ll be reaching the top in half that time.”

“The attendant will let us ride until I give him the signal that we are ready to leave,” he said, confirming that she’d seen money hit the attendant’s hand. “Now, share with me, my Scout. Where did I touch you?”

She turned to look up at him, realizing too late just how much trouble she was in. Alone, enclosed in a metal car for however long he wanted them to be, with someone who was arguably the sexiest man currently in the fashion world. She could already feel the heat of him pressed all along her side. Her jacket and nautical-themed navy sweater dress suddenly seemed too warm, and it was all she could do to keep from squirming under his penetrating gaze.

And now he wanted to know about her naughty dream.

She never should have told him about it in the first place. Except…

Part of her had
wanted
him to know.

“Scout.”

“That’s how you said my name in my dream.” With a sigh, she let go of the last of the barriers she kept up against him. Ivar wasn’t Vishous. He wasn’t slyly suggesting they spend time at the House so he could get a feel for the work that was important to her. He wasn’t asking her about Payne, or suggesting they all hang out together. When Ivar was with her, he focused on nothing but
her
, and that made her feel like the most desirable woman in the world.

A vivid thrill of excitement tightened his face. “You say this as though this pleased you.”

“It did.” As her inner defenses melted away, she chose to do what Sass accused her of doing so often in relationships. She cannonballed. “Every word sounds beautiful when you say it with that accent of yours, but I think my name sounds the most beautiful when it comes from your lips. It’s a crazy kind of turn-on for me.”

“I like knowing this.” Moving as if he had all the time in the world—and he did, thanks to buying off the attendant—Ivar slid an arm around her shoulders. To her surprise, he hooked his free arm under her knees to bring her legs across his thighs, the arm at her shoulders scooping her along until she found herself sitting across his lap. It took only a second, leaving her blinking at the smooth move.

“There. Right where you belong.” Shifting her to a more comfortable position, he moved the hand that had caught under her legs until it rested on her knee. “Now. Where were we in this dream of yours?”

“Um.” Still reeling, she stared at her hands that were now latched firmly around his neck. She couldn’t remember placing them there. “In a car. Don’t ask me where, though.”

“Who was driving?”

“No one. We weren’t going anywhere, we were…otherwise occupied.” That was putting it mildly.

“Ah.” Something dangerous ignited in his heavy-lidded gaze, and it was powerful enough to squeeze her throat almost completely closed. God, he was exciting. “I like the sound of that. Why was I saying your name?”

She couldn’t look away from those eyes if her life depended on it. “Because I was taking your clothes off, but I couldn’t get the buttons of your shirt undone fast enough. As I recall, you were highly frustrated.”

“I can imagine.” His attention went to her jacket, and with that same leisurely air he unbuttoned it to reveal the top of the sweater dress, the loose cowl neck decorated with little white anchors. “When skin demands to be pressed against skin, only to have obstacles stand in the way, it can make one… insane.”

“Agreed.” It was barely a whisper. With the desire crushing the breath out of her lungs, it was all she could manage. “Totally insane.”

He pushed the jacket from her shoulders. “Did you leave me frustrated?”

“You seemed happy with my efforts.” The shoulder of her dress went with the jacket, exposing her skin to the chilly air. Before she could move, he bent his head and ran his lips along her collarbone to nip at her shoulder next to the thin navy strap of her bra. He nudged it with his nose, then took it in his teeth to move it out of his way.

Oh… yes.

That one move made everything in her belly molten, a heat that arrowed down to the juncture of her thighs. How she’d gotten to this point in life without knowing that being undressed by a man’s teeth was the sexiest thing in the world, she’d never know. She was just glad she’d finally been let in on the secret.

She plunged her fingers into his fabulously soft hair to tell him without words how much she liked what he was doing, while her free hand drifted down to his shirt. Like her dream, she struggled for a moment before working the first three buttons free. Losing patience, she slipped her hand beneath the material and stroked a possessive line from his throat, down the taut, muscled-padded wall of chest lightly roughened with just the right amount of hair, to curl over the contours of his rib cage. Beneath her palm she thrilled at the hammering of his heart that seemed to shake his whole body.

And yet, they were barely getting started.

“Tell me more,
ma fleur
.” His rumbling whisper danced along her skin, and she shivered when the wet glide of his tongue tasted her at the place where shoulder arched into neck. “Where did I touch you? Here?” The hand at her knee lifted to glide up her side, along the outer swell of her breast to dive under the lowered neckline.

“Yes.” Her breath shuddered. From the moment puberty struck, she’d been a straight-up curvy girl with a figure she’d once loathed. Before she’d reached the sanctuary of the Panuzzi home, it had been one hell of a challenge keeping unwanted hands off, and her radar for trouble had worked overtime to save her on more than one occasion. There had even been a time when she’d hidden herself under shapeless, colorless clothes, and it wasn’t until she’d reached adulthood that she’d finally felt safe enough to dress as she pleased. But a flash of insecurity hit hard when he molded a hand to her breast. As he lifted it from its bra cup as if wanting to learn its full weight, her brain suddenly filled with all the hyper-skinny, waiflike sticks he worked with. “I… wait.”