Conflicting Hearts (12 page)

“It supposed to be good weather all weekend,” he says, while
munching on a piece of toast. I’m surprised that he talks with food in his
mouth. He does have faults.

“Gosh, it’s so beautiful here, Ian. You’re spoiling me.”

He smiles. “Yeah, I’ve got it good. I’ll admit it.
Especially with you to keep me company. It makes the place feel alive again
with the presence of a woman.”

My mind is back to playing house again, and I stare at him
like he’s my husband. I merely want to be normal, happy, and at peace, but fear
tells me otherwise. There’s part of me that wants to live my life in front of
him as one gigantic lie. I don’t want him to know my past or my thoughts in the
dark. It wouldn’t be fair to him, and I know it. He has the right to know the
full-deal, especially if we take this further between us.

I watch him quietly finish his breakfast. He looks as if his
mind has wandered off somewhere. Maybe he’s making a mental list of questions
for my upcoming interrogation, and they’re being neatly penned in his psyche.

“So, what’s the plan today?” I say, interrupting whatever
he’s thinking underneath his morning hair.

“Take a shower, get dressed, go for a walk?”

“Sounds good,” I agree excitedly. “Do you have a tide
table?” When you’re at the coast, you have to have a tide table.

“Uh-huh, but I already know. It will be out in about an hour
or so, why?”

“Because, I want to crawl around the tide pool by Haystack
Rock.” I’m gushing like a tourist again.

“You like doing that?”

“Uh-hum. Love seeing the star fish, anemones, and all the
other creatures stuck to the rocks.”

“Sure, no problem. We can go dig for clams farther down the
coast, too, if you want.”

“Uh, just tide pool.” I’m not too keen about digging in wet
sand.

“No problem. I’ll take you up to Ecola Park, if you’d like.
Looks rough out there today. The waves should be pounding the rocks pretty
hard, just the way you like it.”

What is it with all of these comments? Ian smirks, and I
know the stinker knows exactly how that sounded coming out of his mouth. The
man is definitely dwelling on my last statement to him between the sheets.
Maybe he wants to oblige me. I get excited thinking about it.

“I have plans for tonight, but I’m keeping those under
wrap,” he tells me with a mischievous glint in his eye. I can’t help but wonder
what he’s got up his sleeve.

The attentive, sweet Ian picks up my empty plate and carries
it to the sink. My eyes follow his movements, and I’m drawn to everything he
represents. He’s a remarkable man, kind, generous, attentive, and emotionally
healthy. He’s embodies all that I yearn for, and nothing that I am. I’m falling
like a love-starved fool, and it scares me to death.

“Thanks for breakfast, Ian.”

“My pleasure, sweets.”

I want to attack his body, but it’s hands off.
Rats!

Chapter 11

Getting to Know You

As promised, Ian drives me up to Ecola State Park. The
narrow lane to the point winds like a snake through the Douglas fir and
fern-filled forest. When we reach the parking area, I can’t wait for him to
open the door. Before he turns off the ignition, I jump out of the car and gawk
at the scenery. Ian just smiles over my antics and grabs my hand, pulling me
down the hill and then back up to the long trek to the end of the cliff. I
enjoy our moments of levity.

“I promise not to push you off the edge,” I tease him.

“You better not, or I’ll come back to haunt you with
vengeance.” He frowns at me and then playfully tries to tickle my waist.

I scream and run up ahead. By the time we reach the very tip
of the outcropping, I’m disappointed to see a crowd of other tourists. Ian
wiggles his way to the edge, claiming a small spot by the railing. He pulls me
in ahead of him, and then he pushes his body up behind mine, wrapping his arms
around my waist.

The salty wind caresses my face, and I revel in the
spectacular sight. Thousands of years of never-ending waves have shaped the
rocky spires below. Each time a huge wave meets the obstacle in its pathway to
the cliff, upon which we stand, sprays of foamy white water leap high into the
air and then sink back into the Pacific Ocean. It’s a powerful, roaring thunder
that fills my ears and brings delight to my soul.

“Look.” Ian points down to a row of flat-topped rocks.
“Couple of sea lions.”

A pair lazily lie together soaking up the sun. I’m awestruck
and at peace standing at my favorite spot in all of the earth. My emotions
express my blissful state, and tears trickle down my cheeks.

Ian hears my sniveling. “Hey, what’s the matter? Something
wrong?”

“No. Everything is right.” I sigh in contentment.

“You like it here, don’t you?”

He hands me his handkerchief to wipe my eyes. Why am I not
surprised over another caring moment on his part? I look at the initials IAR in
the corner, and I dab my wet cheeks. He’s not getting it back.

“What does the A stand for?”

“Alexander.”

“Ian Alexander Richards,” I repeat in a dreamy tone.

For a few minutes we stand there, looking out over the blue
ocean. Eventually, the others leave, and Ian and I are left together on the
wooden platform. I turn around to face him. My back is against the railing, and
Ian pushes his frame against mine. His hands grab the railing on either side of
my body, and the next I know he has me pinned in a very compromising position.
He has no idea what he’s doing to me as a woman, or maybe the rascal does.

“You’re mine now,” he drawls. His dark eyes look into mine, and
I see a sexy, mischievous guy making me weak in the knees. Once again, his
manhood is rising in his pants, and I’m growing nervous.

“Are you going to pin me against this railing all
afternoon?” I stare at his moist lips, wondering how much longer he’s going to
torture me before I can taste them.

“I might keep you here all afternoon. Feels good.”

“Ha! I can feel that it feels good.”

“You’ve noticed?”

“Uh, yes, it’s quite obvious,” I answer, feeling far too
warm.

“Mind if I kiss you?”

“I think you’ll probably kiss me whether I mind or not, Mr.
Ian Alexander Richards.”

Ian lowers his mouth toward mine. By this time, I’m aching
for his body. He’s such a hunk, and he’s got me under his spell. How much more
sexy could this moment be? I’m helpless before him. My eyes close, anticipating
his warm lips, and sure enough, he leans in even harder against me and clasps
his lips to mine. His tongue does this choreographed dance in my mouth that
sends shivers through my body. It’s more than I can handle.

I put both of my hands on his chest and pull away. “Whoa
there!” I exclaim, trying to catch my breath. “If you keep that up, you’re
going to break your own rules.”

He smirks at me. “You’re probably right. I shouldn’t be
testing my limits of self-control, because around you I don’t have any.”

That’s my slut magnetism
, I think to myself.
I
just pull them in and do them
. “Well, I don’t do well with self-control,” I
honestly admit. “So it’s on your shoulders to keep us on the straight and
narrow.”

“Fine,” he says, giving me a wink and releasing his arms
from around my body. I can breathe again without feeling crushed. Our time
alone comes to an end, as another group of scenery gawkers arrive at the end of
the point.

“We’ve got company,” I announce. Ian turns around and grabs my
hand.

“Come on, let’s go for a hike.” He drags me down the trail,
and we spend the next hour trekking through the forest. At least it took our
minds off of sex. I smile, because as I watch him walk ahead of me, I’m fixated
on his fine rear in his tight jeans. Let’s face it, I’m beyond hope.

* * * *

When evening rolls around, I’m in a state of ecstasy
recalling our enjoyable day together. We have a leisurely dinner, while I watch
the sun sink into the ocean. The clouds turn pink and gray, creating a breathtaking
sunset that mesmerizes me.

After the dishes are done, and darkness has arrived, Ian is
ready for my surprise.

“Go get a warm jacket,” he orders. “No questions, just go.”

A chill of excitement runs through my body, and I run
upstairs. I hear him in the kitchen with what sounds like the rustling of a
paper bag. When I’m back down, he’s already donned his coat, and slung his
backpack over his shoulder.

“Come on, we’ve got things to do.”

I don’t complain, but follow him out the sliding glass door.
He leads me down to the beach and off to the left a few yards. A smile spreads
across my face when I realize we’re headed for an outdoor adventure.

“You like campfires?” he asks, as we arrive at the surprise
location.

“Yes, I love them,” I squeal like a little kid.

 He places kindling on the stacked logs, which he must
have gathered earlier. With a strike of a match, Ian lights the fire. Soon it
cracks and pops, sending smoke up into the air. When the flames are high,
embers fly above us and are carried off by a slight breeze. There’s a large
driftwood log nearby, where Ian places a small blanket on top. We both sit down
together, and I’m filled with romantic excitement.

The ocean is dark, the stars are out, and here I am with
Ian. Like a fool, I pinch my wrist to make sure it’s not a dream. Why I keep
doing that, I have no idea. Perhaps I’m afraid one day I’ll wake up and this
will have been a delusion.

“Oh, gosh, Ian, how beautiful.” My heart is bursting with
joy.

“I thought you’d like it,” he says. “I come down here a lot
at night by myself and light a fire. It’s peaceful.”

It doesn’t take long for me to get lost in the surroundings.

“Do you want a beer,” he asks, pulling one out of his
backpack, “or a Coke?” He brandishes a can.

“Do you always think of everything?” I grab the cold can and
pop the aluminum lip open. He twists the bottle cap off of his beer and takes a
drink. We both sit quietly and look into the fire as the flames dance before
our eyes.

He turns his head and looks at me, as if he’s contemplating
whether to start a conversation. I’ve been anticipating this moment all
weekend.

“You want to talk?”

“About what?” I ask nonchalantly, but the muscles tighten in
my jaw. Already, I’m reacting to the getting-to-know-you session that’s about
to ensue.

“I’m curious about a few things. Do you mind if I ask some
questions?”

Instinctively, I cross my arms across my chest as if I’m
protecting my heart. “Uh, sure. You remember our deal, though, right?”

“Yes, of course.”

It takes all my strength to look at him and not feel panic.
The dancing fire reflects in his blue eyes, and I melt. He must sense my
uneasiness, because Ian leans in for a kiss. God, he tastes like beer, but I
don’t care. His lips make me feel woozy, like I’m the one who drank a six-pack.

When he’s through sucking on my bottom lip, he leans back
and takes a swig of beer. “Tell me about your family.”

The interrogation starts with an easy question. I can handle
easy, so I tell him. “Like I said, I grew up in the Midwest. I have one
brother, five years older, who I don’t see much. My mom died when I was
eighteen from cancer, and my dad passed away three years ago.”

“That must have been awfully hard, losing both your parents
so early, Rachel.”

“Yeah, I miss them.” And inside my heart hurts thinking
about it.

“There’s nobody else?”

“I have a few cousins on my mom’s side, but they live far
away, and we don’t talk.”

“What about your brother, how come you don’t see him?”

“He doesn’t want a relationship with me,” I say, frowning.
“Besides, he lives out of state.”

“Too bad,” he says, disappointed. “It’s sad when family
members aren’t close.”

“Okay, your turn.” I lead him away from the subject of my
dysfunctional sibling relationship.

“Hmm, family.” He muses for a moment. “Mom and dad are still
alive. They live down in the Bay area. Dad wants to retire soon.”

“What does your dad do?”

“Bank executive.”

I shake my inner head, seeing dollar signs. “Brothers or
sisters?”

“Yeah, I’ve got one brother, no sisters. Jack is married and
lives in Boston with his wife, no kids yet.”

“What does Jack do for a living?” Boy, I’m into his family
career status.

“Doctor,” Ian says in a low voice, as if he doesn’t want me
feeling insignificant over my lack of education again. My simpleton head takes off
with the rhyme:

R
ich man, poor man,

Beggar man, thief,

Doctor,
lawyer,

Indian
chief.

I wonder if they sang that little ditty when they were kids
to pick out their professions.

“Wow,” I respond, feeling like a grain of insignificant sand
on the beach. “Do you see your brother very much?”

“No, we’re on opposite ends of the country.” He narrows his
eyes as he’s trying to remember when. “Last time we got together was Christmas
two years ago, when he came home to see mom and dad.”

“Do you talk much on the phone?” Ian chuckles and his eyes
twinkle. I’m surprised at his reaction.

“Yeah, I call him a lot to complain. He’s got a good ear for
listening.”

I’m so jealous. The list of positive points in Ian’s favor
continue to mount. His family sounds wonderful. On the other hand, I feel like
I’m sinking deeper into the sand underneath my feet, having come from a pretty
dull and highly uneducated family background. What this man sees in me is
beyond my comprehension. Maybe he’s going for dumb blondes this time, since his
intelligent blonde wife filed for divorce. I just don’t get it.

Ian suddenly slips away. He takes a large gulp of beer, and
I can’t help but wonder what emotions he’s shoving back down inside of him. Is
it his failed marriage or perhaps lack of children? I’m suddenly curious about
that point.

“You like kids?”

He turns his head and looks at me with a surprised raised
brow. “Sure, I like kids.”

“Your wife didn’t want any?”

“She wasn’t ready. Her career was more important.”

Ian pulls his gaze away and picks up a stick and starts
poking at the fire. He’s as bad as me, with his quick move to disassociate
himself when under tough scrutiny. Frankly, I don’t want to talk about his
ex-wife, so I drop the subject.

“Time for a treat,” he announces. He opens up the paper bag,
reaches inside and pulls out marshmallows. “Here, hold these,” he orders,
shoving the white puffs into my hand.

“Ooh, I love roasted marshmallows,” I reply, smiling at the
thought of the sweet, gooey filling. Next, his hand returns into the bag, and
he hauls out a box of Graham crackers and a supersized, dark-wrapped, chocolate
candy bar. I take one look at the familiar brand and feel as if someone has
punched me in the stomach.

My head spins away in the other direction. I shut my eyes
and groan loudly. Revulsion grabs me by the throat, and I can’t breathe. As my
heart rate increases, I start to gasp for air.

“Rachel, what’s the matter?” His voice is filled with alarm.

Slowly, I respond and turn around to look at him. He’s still
holding that damn candy bar!

“I—I don’t like S’mores,” I sputter out. “Please, put the
candy back in the bag,” I scream at him like a mad woman.

Ian doesn’t hesitate to shove the candy bar into the paper
container. “Shit, Rachel, what’s the matter?”

Horrified, I cover my face with my palms. A second later, he
gathers me in his arms, pulls me toward his chest, and rubs my back in a
soothing motion. The candy bar in Ian’s hands incited a flashback that I
haven’t had for years. I saw my pedophile abuser holding out my payment for his
latest jack-off on my body. The candy held by Ian, set off an intense negative
recall.

As I’m crying on Ian’s shoulder, I know he doesn’t
understand why. I want to tell him, but I’m petrified.

“Damn it!” I blurt out in anger, balling my fists. “I hate
it when I do this.”

To my surprise, Ian remains silent. He holds me, until my
breathing slows, and the blood stops coursing through my veins at a hundred
miles an hour. For some reason, I think he can feel my heart pounding against
his chest. Slowly, I pull away from him and wipe my nose with the back of my
sleeve, because I’ve forgotten which pocket I shoved his pretty handkerchief
into.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Something I did triggered a hell of a reaction in you,
Rachel. You want to talk about it?”

“Can you just hold me for a while?” I look into his eyes
like a helpless little girl.

“Sure, let’s put this blanket down on the sand and lie down
a minute. Is that okay?”