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Luck seemed to have abandoned me since I arrived back at Mariposa. Ian was waiting for me, in jeans and a chambray shirt, his hair wet from a shower, his expression cynical as he took me in.
“We’re going to the clinic, not have lunch with the queen,” he grumbled.
“I like to dress well,” said the woman who lived in jeans and sweats.
“The people around here will think you’re putting on airs.”
I didn’t show my sudden pang. I summoned my inner Bella. “I don’t care what they think. I’m not going back upstairs to change because I intimidate you.”
It was a mistake. His gaze narrowed, and he moved closer, and I swear I could feel his body heat through my silk dress. “Intimidate is hardly the word,” he said softly.
How could Ian the Wretch feel so seductive? I straightened my back, glaring at him. “Then what is the word? Annoyed? Contemptuous? Suspicious?” Jesus, why had I thrown that word in there? I quickly followed up, “Angry? Jealous?” I was digging myself in deeper.
“Jealous, Bella-Beast? Who would I be jealous of?”
“Your brother,” I said flatly. “He’s always been taller, better-looking, more charming...”
“More charming? Does that mean you think I have even the slightest amount of charm myself?” There was laughter behind those dark eyes, and I wanted to punch him.
“He has a better smile....”
“With all those big white teeth, the better to eat you, my dear,” he crooned. “And he’s six two, I’m six three. Granted, I’m not built like a mountain,” he added.
I slid my eyes down his lean form with suitable disdain. “You’re not,” I agreed, trying and failing to sound contemptuous. When I’d been a teenager, I’d been awash with daydreams about broad shoulders and curly blond hair. For some reason, I preferred a leaner frame nowadays.
“But then, you don’t seem to be falling at Marcus’s feet no matter how hard he tries. Could it be that you’re ready to give his little brother a chance?” he purred.
“Over my dead body,” I snapped.
All of a sudden his humor vanished, and his dark eyes were flat with warning. “If I were you, I wouldn’t toss that option around too carelessly. Accidents can happen—just look at yesterday.”
“Is that a threat?” It came out an undignified squeak.
“Let’s just say it’s a heads up. I’d rather you came to your senses than end up as Marcus’s leftovers.”
“Marcus loves me!” I shot back, defensive. It wasn’t as if I wanted Marcus to love me, but old habit made me defend him. I couldn’t believe Marcus had an evil bone in his body, and he truly loved Bella. He always had.
That it shifted so easily to my pale copy wasn’t encouraging, but in the end it wouldn’t matter. I’d be gone.
“So he does,” Ian agreed, an odd expression in his eyes. “You’re not in love with anyone else?”
“Of course not!” I said a little too quickly.
“So, give the old boy a break and marry him. You’d always planned to, and he’d be your boy toy for the rest of your life.”
“He’s three years older than I am,” I shot back.
“Two, but who’s counting? I love my brother, but he’ll always be someone’s boy toy. Why not yours?”
Damn, I had to stop forgetting Bella was a year older than I was. “Because I don’t want him,” I said flatly, firmly. “Did you know he’s planning to break up Mariposa? To force a sale?”
“I know. And why would you care? I would think that was what you wanted as well.”
Of course Bella would want it. She’d take her money and never look back once Granda had gone.
I said nothing, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. Instead, I glanced up at the clock set in the wall above the recess that held the ovens. “Hadn’t we better get going?”
“Your chariot awaits.”
