Heart-Shaped Hack(41)

“There’s nothing boring about that at all, at least not to me.” She set the phone on the coffee table. “I really like you, Ian. I think about you all the time, and when you’re not here I miss you. But the longer we’re together, the higher the chances are that you’ll have to leave—maybe without much notice—and I don’t want to get hurt. I’m sure there are things you can’t tell me, but I need to know about anything that might increase your chances of leaving. If you can’t promise me that, I can’t do this.”

A flicker of something crossed his face—surprise, concern, fear?—and then it disappeared.

He reached for her hands and squeezed them. “I promise. I don’t want to lose you. You’re far too special to me.”

“All right,” she said softly. She’d told him what she needed, and he’d promised to give it to her.

“Come here,” he said, pulling her onto his lap.

He kissed her, held her, told her how much he’d missed her.

He promised.





CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The next night, when they returned to Kate’s apartment after dinner, Ian said, “Why don’t you pack a bag? We can stay at my place tonight, and I’ll drive you to work in the morning.”

She knew where he lived because they’d driven by his building several times and he’d pointed it out.

“The only reason I haven’t taken you there before now is because I prefer your place. Mine is just where I work.”

Kate packed a bag.



Ian lived across the river in a high-rise apartment downtown. When they arrived, he pushed a button on a key fob that he held up to a sensor and then pulled into a marked stall in the underground parking garage.

“Where do you store the Shelby?”

“At a private storage facility in Bloomington. I miss her. I might have to drop by and take her for a spin every now and then.”

They rode the elevator to the twentieth floor, and she followed Ian down the hallway and into his apartment, waiting as he switched on the lights.

“No wife, no kids,” he said gently.

“I didn’t really think that.”

The luxury unit was pristine but stark. An oversized sectional and coffee table faced a large, wall-mounted flat-screen TV that hung over the fireplace. There were no other chairs or tables. A massive L-shaped desk sat adjacent to the sectional. On it sat two desktop monitors, an open laptop, and four cell phones.

“I’m guessing electronics won’t be showing up on your Christmas list anytime soon.”

He smiled. “Probably not.”

There were no personal touches. No art on the walls. No lingering cooking smells or pile of shoes by the door. He had blinds for privacy but no decorative window treatments surrounding them. The room needed color and warmth; lamps and rugs and throw pillows. It wasn’t remotely a home, not that Kate thought he was trying to make it one. No wonder he preferred her place.

She looked out the floor-to-ceiling windows of the living area. The lights of downtown Minneapolis twinkled in the darkness. “It’s a beautiful space,” Kate said, turning back around. “When do you finish moving in?”

“Don’t let the cars fool you. I’m not a man who needs a lot of material things.”

“That’s not what I meant. This is a place you could move on from quickly if you had to.”

He must have heard the unease in her voice because he turned toward her and said, “Just because I can doesn’t mean I will.”

He showed her the bedroom next. In addition to the king-size bed, there was a dresser and nightstand with a lamp. The sunken tub in the attached bathroom dwarfed the one in Kate’s apartment, and the large walk-in shower had two showerheads. Those two rooms were also devoid of anything not meant for function.

Lastly, he showed her the kitchen. She ran her hand along the granite countertop, upon which sat a high-end coffeemaker, and admired the shiny stainless steel appliances.

“The Batcave is gorgeous, if a little unfinished.”

“Most everything I rent ends up looking like this. I never take the time to do much to the apartments. I work, sleep, use the gym, and order in.”

Kate looked at the glass-front cupboards. Other than a few coffee cups, they were empty. She opened a drawer, but instead of silverware she found the plastic-wrapped forks and spoons that accompanied a takeout order. There was no knife block or fruit bowl or toaster to be found.

“All you have in your kitchen is a coffeemaker.” She hopped up on the counter.

“Well, now I have a coffeemaker and a beautiful woman. What more do I need?”

He stood between her legs, and she wrapped them around him. Looking into his eyes, she kissed him softly. Then she rubbed her cheek against his scruff, which was long enough not to hurt but short enough to provide the most arousing friction, especially when he dragged it along her inner thigh. “I love the way this feels on my skin.”

“Bet I know where you love it the most.”

“Bet you’re right.”

After pulling off his sweatshirt, she ran her hands along his shoulders and then leaned forward, kissing and nibbling and sucking her way down the side of his neck.

“I do so enjoy it when a woman makes the first move.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. However, you seldom allow me enough time to make one before you swoop in with one of your own.”