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Bree stood up and Ian quickly shifted his gaze back to his computer screen. He tried not to give her much notice as she came into the kitchen and opened the pantry doors. She pulled out a bag of coffee. “It’s freezing in that big room. Do you mind if I make a pot of coffee? Will you drink some?”
“That’s a good idea. I’ll drink it.” The thermos he’d demolished on the drive up here had burned off a long time ago.
Bree filled the coffeepot and went about setting the controls and adding grounds to the filter. “When it’s cold like this, I need something warm to drink.”
“I think we’ll be drinking a lot of coffee, then.”
“I noticed some decaffeinated herbal tea in the pantry, too. I’ll probably switch to that in the evenings. Otherwise I’ll be up all night.”
Ian’s brain instantly went to the nights he had kept her up without the assistance of caffeine. How many times had he missed his 8:00 a.m. English lecture because he’d lost track of time in Bree’s arms?
His eyes focused in on the curious expression on Bree’s face. “What?” he asked.
“I asked if you take cream and sugar,” she said with a smile.
“Yeah, two sugars. I like it sweet.”
Bree got down the mugs and turned to him while she waited for the coffee to finish brewing. “Still got a sweet tooth, huh?”
He nodded, remembering all the junk he used to eat back in college. Like any college student, he’d consumed his fair share of pizza and Chinese food, but more often than not, he could be found with a candy bar, a cookie or a can of soda in his hand. Sometimes a combination of the three. “This machine runs on sugar and caffeine most of the time. I have tried to scale back a little. I have a one-candy-bar-a-day limit my assistant enforces by keeping snacks in a locked drawer in her desk.”
The warm scent of hazelnut coffee filled the air. Bree turned to pour two cups and doctored them appropriately. She set a mug down next to his laptop and crawled onto the barstool at the opposite side of the kitchen island.
“I guess I always envisioned you marrying a pastry chef. Or a chocolatier. I’m going to take a wild guess and say that Missy doesn’t bake.”
“Lord, no.” Ian chuckled. “I don’t think Missy has so much as turned on an oven in her entire life. She was singing on mall tours at fourteen and was an opening act for a world tour at seventeen. I signed her with SpinTrax when she was twenty. She knows how to work an audience, but that’s about it.”
Bree took a sip of her coffee. “I suppose she doesn’t eat that stuff, either.”
“Missy doesn’t eat much of anything.”
Food was a constant point of contention in their relationship. Missy’s personal trainer had convinced her that greens and fish were all she needed. Anything else and she’d blow up like a pop star has-been. When she’d announced her pregnancy, he’d expected her to add some foods back into her repertoire, but the opposite happened. Since she knew there were certain kinds of fish she couldn’t eat, she’d gone fully vegetarian instead of taking the time to figure out what she could and couldn’t have. She insisted that was why her belly was still as flat as it was on her last album cover. He wasn’t sure how well she was going to take it when she hit the third trimester and even a strict diet wouldn’t keep her from putting on a few pounds.
“I guess I’ll never be a rock star, then. I like food too much,” Bree said with a smile. “Of course, I’ve got the junk in the trunk to show for it.”
One of Ian’s eyebrows shot up. He’d tried not to look, but he’d noted Bree’s trunk was nicely full. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, trying to sound sincere without seeming too interested in her body. “You look great.”
Bree smiled, a blush rising to her cheeks. She tucked a stray strand of blond hair behind her ears. “Thanks, but we both know this isn’t the same body I had back in college.”
“Thank goodness. I don’t think I was skilled enough to handle curves that dangerous back in school.”
Bree wrinkled her nose. “Were you always this big a flatterer?”
“I think so. I just did it with a song then. Now I have to be more direct. I don’t have time to beat around the bush.”
Bree’s bright blue gaze met his for a moment, and he felt the familiar heat rush through his veins once again. What was he doing flirting with Bree? He was engaged. He was going to be a father. He needed to focus on his relationship with Missy, not his past with Bree. How could he forget the fact that Bree had kicked him when he was down? That she had offered him the closest thing to a real relationship he’d ever had, then snatched it away?
Ian needed more space between them if he was going to get through the next few days. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to kiss her or give her a piece of his mind. Neither was helpful. He remembered the feeling from school. She knew just how to push all his buttons and make him unsteady on his feet. Back then, it had brought on a rush of excitement. Now, it just frustrated him.
He had to give Missy credit in that department. He knew exactly where he stood with her: she was using him to salvage her career. There was no great love between them, at least when the cameras were off. It wasn’t where he envisioned he would be with the mother of his child, but at least he understood the terms of the relationship. Bree was a wild card.
He looked back to his computer screen and closed his laptop. “I, uh, guess I’d better give you the tour so you can get settled in.”
Bree slid down from the stool, carrying her mug with her as she followed him into the living room.
“This is the main floor. My bedroom is over there under the stairs.” He gestured up to the loft overhead, then they headed up the steps. “You’ll see there are two bedrooms and baths up here, and two more bedrooms and baths on the lower level. If I were you, I’d sleep up here, though. Because of the vaulted ceilings, upstairs stays a little warmer.”
He led Bree back to the main level, past his bedroom door and down the staircase. At the bottom of the stairs was a spacious room with a big-screen television, a poker table, a pool table and a stone fireplace. “This is the game room. There’s also a hot tub out that door on the deck.”
