Mogul (Manhattan #2)(27)

Mrs. Ford envelops him in her embrace, and when Ian drapes his arms around her, his height and breadth make his grandmother look delicate and tiny. She’s cooing at him as Ian lifts his eyes, and his dark, curious gaze locks on me. My heart stutters when we make eye contact. I begin to perspire as I force my feet to move forward, get Milly, and get the hell out of here.

“I should get going,” I tell Mrs. Ford before Ian can say a word. “If you’ll excuse me. Come here, Milly.” I call her, grabbing the leash from the kitchen drawer and latching it onto her collar as the dog pads over.

Ian moves forward to take Milly’s leash from my fingers. “I’ve got it.” Close to my ear, his voice is deep and low and rumbling.

I straighten, his voice rolling down my skin like a harsh kiss. There’s something intimidating and intense about the way his eyes look into me. “I came here for you,” he whispers.

“I don’t see why.”

“I’m going to finish dinner!” Mrs. Ford calls from the kitchen. “Ian, don’t come on too strong; she’s not Cordelia.”

“Thanks, Gran. I think I’ve got this,” he answers with a smirk in his eyes as he leads Milly to the door.

“I don’t think this is the time or the appropriate place,” I warn the man as he opens the door.

I step out of the apartment and stupidly get tangled between Ian and Milly.

I gasp as Ian tries to untangle me. Our bodies bump in places and it only gets his scent all over me, and allows my body to remember the hardness of his.

Freed, I step away from him and maintain my personal space as we ride the elevator down. I’m praying that he doesn’t step into my bubble and make me lose my center of gravity again.

“Can I at least have the leash?” I ask him. If I sound annoyed, it’s because I am.

He hands it over, watching me with a slight smile on his lips.

I don’t know why he’s here tonight. Or why I’m feeling flutters in my stomach.

I want to pretend that this is normal. Me, walking one of my client’s dogs with her grandson. But it’s not normal, and neither is the way this guy looks at me.

I notice, as usual, his work attire.

Does the guy do anything else except work and fuck like a god?

“You came here from work?”

We step into the lobby and then out onto the busy streets. “I did. And you?”

I nod, glancing around at the busy cafés as we start walking, trying to distract myself from him. It’s past sunset and the shoppers that usually litter the SoHo streets are already flooding the restaurants for dinner. The streets are quieter at this hour. I can’t decide if it’s a good thing or a bad thing. Usually it would be good. But with Ian beside me, I need all the distractions I can get.

“Why don’t you stay with your grandmother when you’re in town?” I decide small talk can distract me just fine. I feel calmer now as we head toward Washington Square Park, both of us staring ahead and scanning our surroundings.

“She has her own life. I’ve got mine. I don’t want to intrude.” He scoffs. “Besides, I have a home here. I just don’t use it.”

I remember the West End apartment and steer off that topic. “Do you come to the city often?”

I’m just making small talk.

Or okay. Maybe I asked just for me.

“Once a month. Though I had a project to film in LA for the past few months that kept me away.” His eyes slit as he regards me with a pointed glance, as if he means for me to know his reasons for staying away.

I gulp and pretend I don’t notice the way his eyes fall to my lips for a hot moment.

“Your parents?” I press.

“Both passed away. Boating accident.”

I stop in my tracks, mouth hanging open and heart crushed. “I’m sorry,” I finally say. He accepts my words with a brief smile, and the way his eyes sadden tugs at my heart.

We fall silent for a while. I suppose I should have hugged him, but that would get him too far into my personal bubble. He’s already treading at the margins.

“I was obsessed with death as a teenager,” I offer.

“Why?”

“Because it scared me to think of losing someone I loved and of one day that person no longer… existing. I had a friend in school who died. She had frequent migraines and they discovered a brain tumor. We lost her so fast.”

I shrug. “After she died I could only think about dying. I would have school parties and see people laughing and I’d think, what are you all laughing about? We’re all gonna die someday! I kept waiting for it to happen. It wasn’t until I turned eighteen that I finally realized we’re all heading there and thinking about it won’t stop it. I realized you might as well live your life while you’re still alive.”

“So are you a hypochondriac or what?”

I laugh. “No! But I want to leave a good mark when I go.” I lean away from him and sigh. “I read this book, Remembrance by Jude Deveraux, about reincarnation and how we come back over and over and find our loved ones again. That made me feel better.” I narrow my eyes. “When’s your birthday?”

“April eighteenth.”

“Aries. Fire. That explains it.”

“So you think we’ve met before?”