Her Heart's Desire (6 page)

Chapter 8

N
orma Jean was setting her peach cobbler on top of the stove. She bent over to close the oven door.

“I didn’t marry you for your cooking, but it’s sure been an added bonus—one of them,” her husband said from the doorway.

She beamed at the compliment. “Don’t go trying to get a taste before the guests arrive—of anything.”

Heathcliffe walked over and dipped his head to smell the delectable aroma. He kissed his wife on the neck. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“Sure you don’t. Remember, I’m watching you, Mr. Anderson.”

“After all these years, it’s great to know that you’re still scoping me out.”

Norma Jean swiped an oven mitt through the air in his direction, but her face was aglow. “Stop being fresh, Casanova.”

“Anything for you, sexy.”

“Okay, stop. You two had plenty of time to chase each other around before we got here,” Adrian complained from behind them.

“Boy, please. This is my house, and I’ll get fresh with whomever I choose,” his mother replied.

“I’d better be the only one you’re getting fresh with,” her husband countered.

She smiled at him, and then turned her attention back to her son.

“Do I tell you what to do in your home? Lord knows I’ve had plenty of opportunities with the way you chase your wife through every room in your house.”

Adrian grinned with a devilish glint in his eye. “Touché, Mom, but can you at least keep it to a minimum until after we leave?”

Norma Jean went over to give her husband a smooch on the lips before turning back to her son. “I might.”

With a shudder, Adrian set the tote bag he was carrying on the table and took out a square covered dish. “Milán made flan, and it needs to go into the fridge.”

“Great. Your hands aren’t broke. Put it in there, and then get the burgers from the second shelf and take them outside for your father, please. Cliff, is the grill ready?”

He stared at her. “You wanted me to start that?”

Before Norma Jean could get riled up, her husband burst out laughing. “Just kidding, lovebug. It’s all ready to go.”

Milán walked through the door. She said hello to her in-laws. “Do you need me to carry anything out to the back? Tiffany’s on her way around the side with a cooler.”

Norma Jean went over and kissed her daughter-in-law on the cheek. “Yes, honey. Can you carry that tray of condiments to the deck? Where are Justin and Sabrina?”

“They couldn’t make it,” Adrian informed her. “They’re on vacation.”

“Oh. Well, I’m glad Tiffany’s here.”

The doorbell chimed. Norma Jean said, “You go on out, I’ll get it.”

Ivan stood on the front stoop with a roasting pan in his hands. “Did someone place an order for barbecue beans?”

“I sure did. Come on in, Ivan,” she replied, and then kissed him on the cheek. “Everyone is out back.”

Ivan followed her out to the deck. He set his contribution down on the table and greeted the group.

Tiffany waved and walked over to him. “Hi, Ivan, it’s good to see you,” she said.

They shared a secret smile before he said, “Likewise.”

“Where’s your brother?”

“He’s in Evanston visiting our grandmother.”

“You’ll have to take him a doggie bag,” Milán said, coming over to greet him.

The group conversed while eating the snacks Norma Jean had prepared. Heathcliffe worked the grill, and his son supervised.

“You do know that I’ve been the Grill Master in this family since before you were born,” his father told him. “It’s not like anyone has developed an advanced way of flipping burgers that I don’t know about.”

“As a matter of fact, they have. It’s called the rocker technique. You have to get your hip into it and then rock back on your heels and then forward before you flip the meat.” Adrian demonstrated the move.

His father laughed. “Thanks, but I think my tried-and-true method will be fine.”

“There’s no way you’re getting that spatula, Adrian,” Tiffany said.

“My father won’t give up his, either,” Ivan joined in. “My brother and I can’t grill so much as an ear of corn when he’s around.”

“Like it should be,” Heathcliffe replied. “You young bucks get the honors when you’re at your own house. Then you can be Grill Master, and us dads can sit and relax.”

When the meat was ready, they sat down at the large table set up on the lawn. Heathcliffe blessed the food, and then dishes and plates were passed around.

“The food looks delicious,” he complimented his wife. “As always.”

The group seconded that motion, and Norma Jean beamed with pride.

“I’m glad to do it, and thank you, dears, for bringing such wonderful dishes, too.”

Tiffany was sitting across from Ivan. She took a bite of his beans and exclaimed, “Wow. What’s in these beans? It’s like a meal on its own.”

“Thanks. It’s my dad’s recipe. It has hamburger, green pepper, onions, a few different barbecue sauces and some secret ingredients.”

Norma Jean glanced over at Tiffany. “So I hear you’ve been holding out on me.”

Tiffany was taking a bite out of her burger when suddenly all eyes were on her. “I have?”

“I heard that you helped Ivan with his senior self-defense class the other day. A few of my friends were in the class and said that you were terrific.”

Her face was flushed with embarrassment at being called out in front of everyone...especially Ivan. She remembered their almost kiss that night. Thank goodness they hadn’t been caught making out, or Norma Jean definitely would have gotten an earful. She wondered what she would say if she knew about their impromptu date at her house the night before. Though Tiffany wasn’t looking directly at Ivan, she could still feel the heat of his gaze. It was boring into her like a laser beam. There was no way she was going to risk gazing into those tiger eyes right now. Not when she felt like a gazelle caught between the tiger and a hard place.

“Uh, well...it wasn’t at all what I expected. I didn’t think I would be any good at demonstrating the moves since they were new to me, but Ivan is a great teacher, and it went much better than I expected.”

“That’s great, honey.” She turned to Ivan. “I hope you plan on having Tiffany help out with class again. The group enjoyed having her there.”

“I did, too. She’s a natural. She caught on to my techniques in record time.”

Tiffany’s breath caught in her throat at being reminded of their conversation about his techniques. Unable to help herself, she raised her head and was not surprised to find Ivan staring right at her. He definitely looked like a tiger ready to pounce.

If anyone noticed the smoldering heat between the two of them, nobody mentioned it. Heathcliffe began talking about how much he liked water aerobics and how good it was for his joints. Norma Jean chimed in about the class she taught, and chastised her husband for never taking it, but Tiffany didn’t hear either of them. She only had eyes for Ivan.

“I get bossed around by you at home, Jeannie. The last thing I want to do is have you giving me orders in a class,” Heathcliffe groused.

Tiffany was grateful that the awkward moment passed, and that she was no longer the center of conversation. She excused herself and left the table under the guise of going to the bathroom. Once there, she shut the door and sank against it. Her heart was racing, and her stomach tingled from nervous energy.

Relax,
her inner voice instructed.

Tiffany tried hard to steady her breathing. There was no way she could go out there right now. All Ivan would have to do was look at her with those smoldering eyes again, and she would lose her composure for sure.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door.

“Hey, it’s me. Open up,” her friend whispered through the door. “Are you okay?” she asked with concern.

“I’m fine,” Tiffany replied. “Be out in a minute.”

Tiffany rushed over to the sink and splashed cold water on her face. She repeated the action, and then grabbed a hand towel and patted her face dry. “Get a grip, girl. It’s not like drop-dead gorgeous men have never eyed you like you were candy before.”

She laughed at that and left the bathroom, and then went back outside. Dinner was over, so they all helped bring the dishes inside.

“How about dessert?” Milán asked when the kitchen was clean. “We’ve got Jeannie’s famous peach cobbler, Tiffany made key-lime pie, and I made flan.”

They ate dessert in the Cupid Room, Adrian’s nickname for the family room. It had white carpet and walls, and neutral chenille couches, but that was where the lack of color ended. Every surface in the room was dedicated to romance: books, stuffed animals, candles, paintings, photo albums. Adrian joked to Ivan that it looked like a love bomb went off in there.

Tiffany found herself sandwiched between Norma Jean and Ivan. Instead of her own pie, she opted for small pieces of cobbler and flan. She was taking a bite of cobbler when Ivan leaned in and whispered into her ear, “Your key-lime pie was delicious.”

“Thank you,” Tiffany replied, almost choking on her dessert.

“Do you bake much?”

She shook her head. “Not really. I like sweets way, way too much to make them often.”

“So why did you disappear so long after dinner that Milán had to come in after you?”

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as his warm breath tickled her ear.

“No reason.”

“I have a feeling you’re leaving some things out.”

“Oh, really?” she murmured. “And how would you know?”

“I’m good at figuring out when people are telling the truth, and when they’re being...purposefully deceptive.”

“Something you picked up in the army?”

“Yes.”

That answer relayed Ivan’s confidence and abilities, and hinted at something else she could not put her finger on. Her palms grew sweaty.

“I’m not being deceptive,” she whispered, and then got up and headed for the kitchen.

Ivan joined her a minute later. His eyes searched her face.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Your eyes say differently.”

“Tiffany, do we have any—”

Milán scooted to a halt when she saw that her friend wasn’t alone. “Iced tea left?”

“I put it in the fridge,” Tiffany replied.

“Um, thanks.”

Walking to the refrigerator, Milán got what she needed. She stared at Tiffany with a questioning look on her face. Tiffany smiled, and her friend relaxed.

“I’ll take this in to Adrian,” she explained before hurrying out of the room.

Tiffany wasn’t surprised in the least to find that Ivan hadn’t moved an inch during that exchange. He was still ramrod-straight, and staring at her.

“You must be proficient at interrogating people,” she joked. “Okay. I give. I came in to get away from the conversation at dinner. It was...uncomfortable for me.”

“Why?”

“Because Norma Jean misses nothing, and I didn’t want her picking up on what’s between us.”

“And what is between us, Tiffany?”

“Sometimes, I think, way too much space.”

In a split second, Tiffany was in his arms in an embrace that left little to the imagination. His lips swept over hers possessively, as did his hands. Just when she was getting caught up in the moment, he released her.

Tiffany staggered backward. Ivan reached out and steadied her. “Let’s get out of here. I want you all to myself.”

She nodded. He kissed her a final time before releasing her. Ivan strode out of the kitchen, leaving Tiffany holding onto the sink for dear life. When she could stand, she ran a shaky hand through her spiked hair. “Heaven help me.”

Chapter 9

T
iffany didn’t know how she managed it, but she had stayed at the Andersons’ all of five minutes after she came out of the kitchen. No one questioned her leaving. Not even Norma Jean. She roamed around her house, at a loss for something to do. Ivan had already texted that he was on his way. She went to the kitchen and got a bottle of wine and two wineglasses. Next she put together a small plate of cheese, crackers and grapes. She had just placed it on the coffee table when her doorbell rang.

Seeing Ivan never failed to bring a smile to her face.

“Hi.”

“Hi, yourself,” he replied before kissing her.

“You didn’t stay long,” she commented as she stepped aside so he could enter.

“Nope.”

They sat on her couch. Tiffany poured a glass of wine for each of them and handed one to Ivan. He held his glass up.

“To evasive maneuvers.”

She laughed and clinked his glass. “Are you sure Norma Jean didn’t suspect anything? She misses nothing.”

“I’m very good at covering my tracks. Trust me, the Love Broker doesn’t suspect a thing,” Ivan promised.

* * *

Later that night, Ivan was lying in bed with his laptop when he got a call from his brother.

“What’s up, Cole?”

“Hey, I’m downtown at the Funky Buddha Lounge with a few friends. Why don’t you join me?”

Ivan was not big on crowds. “It’s Sunday night.”

“So?”

“Don’t you have work tomorrow?”

“Yes, but unlike you, I can go out on a school night and still get my work done. Come on, Ivan. You haven’t gone out on the town in decades. Swipe one of Dad’s energy drinks from the fridge and get down here.”

He had to laugh at that. “No can do. I’m going out to dinner tomorrow, and I’m trying to pick a restaurant.”

“Oh, make sure you tell GiGi I said hi.”

“It’s not with our grandmother,” Ivan said drily.

“Come again?”

“I’m going out with Tiffany.”

“You’re going out...on a date...with Tiffany?” Cole repeated loudly.

The incredulous tone in Cole’s voice irritated Ivan. “Yes, we’re going out,” he snapped. “And before you ask, yes, I finally told her about Debra.”

“And she still wants to go out with you?”

Ivan ignored that remark.

“So where are you taking her?”

He frowned. “I’m not sure yet. I was working on it when you called.”

“Wherever it is better be good. This woman wants to be with you, despite your nonsense with Debra. That says a lot.”

“It’s not nonsense.”

“Yeah, whatever. How many people do you know who fund a friend’s widow for as long as you have? I’ll tell you. Zilch, that’s how many.”

“It hasn’t been that long, Cole, and it’s not permanent.”

“Most disasters aren’t. You’ve done a noble thing. Now it’s time for Debra to stand on her own two feet.”

After Cole hung up, Ivan dismissed his concerns. He’d sort all that out later. Right now, he wanted to focus on Tiffany. The last time he was on a date was over a year ago. A client call had cut it short. There had not been a second one. At times, Ivan’s schedule was unpredictable, and that tended to be hard on his love life.

He thought back to the conversation with his grandmother. She was right. He was stuck in a rut. A large part of him enjoyed his regimented life. There was a comfort in the predictability of it. Adjusting to civilian life hadn’t been without its difficulties, but his line of work afforded the same rigid conditioning and procedural aspects that he was used to. Being his own boss enabled him to hire retired veterans and honorably discharged servicemen and women, and it also gave him the means to lend his time, money and support to causes and charities he felt passionate about. There was no better feeling.

Looking for a meaningful relationship took time, and that was a commodity Ivan had little of. But business was going well, and his company was stable. Other than the occasional fire to put out, for the immediate future, he had nothing but time. Ivan went back to searching for a suitable restaurant. Should he go for something hip and trendy, or more laid-back with ambience?

Ivan thought about Tiffany for a moment and what little he knew about her. His brow furrowed with concentration as he scanned websites and reviews. One particular place caught his eye. He glanced over the pictures, and then read each evaluation.

“Perfect.”

He wanted his first date with Tiffany to be extraordinary. Based on what he had gleaned so far, too many of her dates fell short of the mark. Ivan did not intend to be one of those.

* * *

“So, how was your evening with Ivan?”

If Milán could see her face right now, she would not have to ask. “Why do you think I was with Ivan?”

“Let’s see, you leave the barbecue minutes after your secret meeting in the kitchen, claiming you have to get into work early today, and he spent the remainder of his time after you left checking his watch—then hightails it out of there a short time later. Real subtle, Tiffy.”

“First of all, it wasn’t secret...” she began.

Milán broke into a litany of Spanish so fast, it made Tiffany dizzy.

“Okay, okay,” she cried out to stop the tirade. “Yes, I was with Ivan last night, and the night before. He asked me out on a date, Lani!”

After letting out a whoop, Milán congratulated her friend. “So what happened?”

“A great deal.” She sighed. “He’s taking me out tonight.”

“I’m so happy for you, but you’re in trouble for not telling me sooner.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just been so crazy.”

“I can’t believe you even made it in to work today. Do you have any idea what you’re wearing tonight?”

“No clue. But I’m excited to figure it out.”

* * *

The morning went by in record time for Tiffany, which was a blessing in disguise because she could not stop smiling, and concentration was a pipe dream. It was a good thing she was scheduled to work most of the day by herself, or else she would’ve gotten the third degree from her employees. As it turned out, they were swamped that afternoon. Tiffany barely made it home to shower and dress before Ivan was due to pick her up.

Should she dress up, or keep it casual? She had no idea the type of venue Ivan had in mind, and she didn’t want to call and ask.

Finally Tiffany chose a sleeveless, knee-length crochet dress in coral. The vibrant color and matching underdress complemented her complexion. She paired it with a pair of beige platform sandals and small gold hoop earrings. She set her hair on end with styling mousse before spraying it with a light mist of hair spray. Satisfied with the look, she applied her makeup.

Tiffany was no stranger to first dates, but she knew off the bat that this one would be nerve-racking. What if things didn’t work out? What if they weren’t compatible after all?

Fifteen minutes later, her doorbell rang. Ivan stood there holding a small bag.

“What’s that?” Tiffany asked.

“A little something I saw and thought of you.”

She sat on the couch to open it while Ivan took a seat on the chair. Tiffany peeked into the bag. “I can’t believe you did this. It’s not even my birthday.”

Ivan shook his head. “Will you open your gift?”

In the small bag, she maneuvered around loads of tissue paper to pull out a pink T-shirt. It had
Girl Power
written in bold letters across the front.

“I thought it would be great to wear for our next class.”

“Our next class?”

“You didn’t think I could do without you as an assistant, did you?” he said seriously. “You’re a natural.”

She laughed. “It’s awesome, I love it.”

Tiffany leaned over and kissed him. The light peck went from friendly to something deeper in seconds.

Ivan stood up and pulled her with him. Tiffany wrapped her arms around his neck. His automatically went to her waist to bring her closer.

“Okay, we need to get going,” he said when they came up for air.

“Why?”

“We have reservations, and I don’t want to be known as the man who tried to ravage you on the first date. Though I really do feel the need to do just that,” he replied wickedly before kissing her a final time.

Now that they’d cleared the air about Debra, Ivan had officially asked her out on a date and they had shared a few heated kisses, Tiffany was overwhelmed with want. It felt like a floodgate had opened, and there was no chance in the world of closing it. She wanted Ivan before, and knowing that he felt the same was intoxicating.

She ran her thumb over his lips to remove her lipstick. He caught her wrist in a firm embrace and pulled her flush against him.

“That’s dangerous,” he warned.

“I know, but I’ve wanted to touch you for so long, I couldn’t help myself.”

His eyes darkened. “Really?” A feral smile came across his face. “For how long?”

She didn’t hesitate. “Since you walked through my door wearing that tight Under Armour shirt.”

“I’ve wanted you ever since our meeting at the café. You straddling me on the floor at the community center was the icing on the cake.”

“I didn’t straddle you,” she protested.

“Oh, yes, you did,” he teased. “Not that I minded in the least.”

She punched his arm, but a smile crossed her face.

After taking her gift into the bedroom and returning with her purse and a wrap, Tiffany said she was ready.

Ivan sauntered over to her, placed his hand at the small of her back and escorted her out.

“Did I mention that you look beautiful tonight?”

She couldn’t contain her smile at remembering how he had told her. “Yes, I’d say you did.”

Ivan was wearing all black. He looked gorgeous.

“You look great yourself.”

He leaned in close. His breath tickled her ear. “You told me.”

* * *

Ivan took Tiffany to Spiaggia on Michigan Avenue. She had heard about the acclaimed restaurant, but had never been. While they were shown to their table, Tiffany gazed around. The space was ultraluxurious and beautifully decorated. Ivan held out her chair. Their table was right next to a massive floor-to-ceiling window, which afforded a spectacular view of Oak Street Beach.

“This place is phenomenal,” she said excitedly. “If I’d known we were coming here, I would’ve dressed up more.”

“You look beautiful.”

She beamed at the compliment and tried her best to focus on the menu, and not the man sitting across from her. It was so hard when he gazed at her like that.

Ivan had spared no expense for their first date, and she allowed herself to enjoy every decadent moment of it.

Later, while they were eating, Ivan said, “So I know you’re from Baltimore, an only child and that you moved here to a few years ago for a job, but what made you move to Chicago in the first place?”

“I needed a change. There was no room for growth at the marketing firm I worked at. I looked around for another position, but nothing seemed to excite me. I was also having difficulties with my boyfriend. I wasn’t as sure of myself—or my abilities.”

“I have a hard time believing that.”

“It’s true. I worked hard to overcome it. The decision to move here was one of the hardest I’ve ever made, but when I got an offer to work at this small boutique to head up their marketing campaign, I took that as a sign that I needed to shake things up.”

“Did your boyfriend relocate with you?”

Her smile faded. “No. His career was flourishing. Uprooting to another state wasn’t one of his long-term goals. So that was that. I should’ve seen it coming.”

“Why?”

“We’d been engaged for two years, but never set a date. The timing was always wrong, as far as he was concerned. It took me a while, but eventually I realized that we weren’t of the same mind. Breaking up was painful. It broke my heart, and made me doubt myself. There were times when...secretly, I hoped we would get back together. That he would call me or just show up here to say he’d made a huge mistake and that he wanted us to try again, but that never happened. He never fought for me...for us.” She glanced over at Ivan with eyes alight with unshed tears. “You must think that’s pretty silly.”

He reached for her hand. “Not at all. I understand how in love you must’ve been, and that your decision to move on even though you still loved him was extremely difficult. Not wanting the same things in life is what ripped to shreds most of the relationships I’ve had—that and my being so far away. Believe me, Tiffany, I know exactly how you feel.”

Tiffany dabbed at the corner of her eyes with her dinner napkin before taking a sip of her wine. “Okay, enough melancholy.”

“I agree. Tell me about your store. How’d you get started?”

“Well, I wasn’t fulfilled working for someone else, and when Milán opened her own interior-design company, that gave me the incentive I needed to get off my butt and make things happen. My grandmother left me a small nest egg when she died a few years ago, so that’s what I used to help get my boutique off the ground. That and a small business loan,” she added. “But I did it.”

“I commend you for taking a chance and starting a small business. You had the gumption to realize your dreams, and you went for it.”

“What about you? How did you get your company started?”

“I began consulting after I ended my last tour and got out of the army. I decided not to reinvent the wheel as far as a career, and stuck with security and protection. It expanded from there, and I soon realized it was a lucrative market. I brought a few retired buddies in with me, and the company grew exponentially. But you know what I love most about it?”

She shook her head.

“It still fills me with a sense of accomplishment, and it makes me proud to be able to continue making a difference in people’s lives.”

Tiffany held up her glass. “Here’s to us. May we never lose sight of dreams and what makes us truly fulfilled.”

Ivan held up his glass and clinked it with hers. “Here’s to you, for having such an antiquated alarm system that allowed us to meet in the first place.”

That made her laugh. She touched his glass again, and took a sip of her wine. “You don’t think Norma Jean would’ve eventually tried to push us together? Granted, you’re built like a tank, so I really don’t think anyone would be pushing you too far, but if anyone could, it would be Jeannie.”