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Chapter Five
Bella realized she was behaving badly. It was possible Ian was making small talk the only way he knew how.
“Will you answer a personal question?” she asked quietly. The time seemed right for shared confidences. Particularly in light of the fact that she had chosen to run interference for this handsome fugitive, not once, but twice.
“I suppose.”
“Why does it bother you so much? The attention, I mean. Couldn’t you just let them have their photographs and go on your way?”
He scowled. “Why should I have to? Is it wrong to want to keep my private life private? I am a human being. A free man. There’s something wrong about a society that believes fame obliterates any right to decency and respect.”
“You’ve given this a lot of thought, haven’t you?”
He ran both hands through his hair. “I haven’t had much choice. The damn cameras are in my face every time I step outside my building. I finally decided I’d had enough. Finley has always given me an open invitation to visit him here on Skye. I called him. He offered me the guest room. End of story. Except for the part where you were in residence. That was a nice surprise.”
“Nice? C’mon, Ian. Tell the truth. You were hoping to have the place to yourself. Just like I was.”
“Maybe.” He took an audible breath. “I’ll leave,” he said suddenly. “You were here first. It doesn’t make sense for you to give up your time in Scotland. You have some big decisions to make.”
“Oh, no,” she said. “I won’t let my brother accuse me of running you off. I’d never live it down. I think we can coexist peacefully if we try.”
The room fell silent after that. With the popping and crackling of the fire, Bella grew drowsy. It had been a long day, but she was reluctant to bring up the subject of returning home.
Ian sprawled beside her, his long legs outstretched, his big feet oddly vulnerable. She had a gut feeling he wasn’t being honest with her about the paparazzi thing. Yes, it was wrong that one stupid magazine article had turned his world upside down. Still, there had to be more to his reaction than he was admitting.
Lots of celebrities tolerated the limelight by being pleasant and signing autographs on occasion. A man couldn’t be chased if he didn’t run.
What did Ian have to hide? Was it only his reclusive nature that made him so angry and desperate to elude the reporters hounding his footsteps?
The intimacy of the remote cabin and their darkened hiding place made her jumpy. “I imagine it’s safe to go back now, don’t you think?”
Ian rested his chin on his chest, his hands laced over his flat belly. She saw his ribcage rise and fall when he sighed. “I suppose.” He rolled to his feet and began banking the fire. For good measure they both carried over cups of water and doused the flames. It wouldn’t do to burn down Finley’s prize.
At last, nothing remained but the smell of damp wood smoke and the lingering sensation of an opportunity missed. Bella felt hollow inside… sad. The emotion made no sense at all. Likely it was the gloom and the late hour creating her melancholy.
She reached into her pocket for the keys to the Jeep and bobbled them, almost tossing them into the hot coals. Fortunately, she managed to catch herself and the keys before falling into the arms of Mr. Tall, Geek, and Gorgeous. Too bad.
“You okay?” he asked gruffly.
“I’m fine. Just clumsy.” They were standing so close she could inhale the scent of him, memorizing it, dizzy with the notion that she knew it already from some other lifetime. She was not a particularly small woman, but he was big and unequivocally masculine. Her pulse fluttered. “We should probably go now.”
He shifted from one foot to the other. “I’m not entirely sure I want to.”
His candor shocked her. Why had she ever for a moment believed he was a passive beta male? Having brains didn’t preclude the possibility that Ian was the kind of man to take what he wanted.
They stood there for an eternity. At last, he reached out and pulled her close, perhaps waiting for her to protest. His chest was comfortingly solid beneath her cheek. His cotton shirt smelled like laundry detergent. There was no doubt in her mind that she could step away and nothing would happen.
Still, she didn’t move.
Ian’s hands roved ever so subtly over her lower back, leaving warmth and delight everywhere he touched. “Have I stunned ye, lass?” There was humor in his voice, humor at her expense.
“I thought all you cared about was work,” she said. Her hands had fisted at his belt buckle. Now, she slipped her arms around his waist and sighed.
“Don’t be daft. I’m a man. You’re a woman. And not just any woman,” he said quickly. “Ye’re bright and funny and cantankerous.”
Rude, but accurate, she conceded to herself. “Um, that last one isn’t exactly a compliment.”
He nuzzled her nose with his. “A bloke likes to work for it sometimes. Ye keep me on my toes. Ye’re not a pushover. I like that in a woman.”
