His Angel (4 page)

The other men were all single as well. They'd served together on the Navy's SEAL Team Four, which she'd been impressed to learn. She'd heard what SEALs had to go through physically and mentally to achieve the well-respected position. Ian had held the highest rank in the group as Lieutenant but only for the two years before he retired. There had been a three year period when all six had been together before they started retiring, one or two at a time. Ian and Devon had started up Trident Security and hired their former teammates as trusted employees as soon as each one left the Navy. Trident performed numerous security jobs for their clients including bodyguard work, home and business security systems, investigations, corporate security, and recovery of kidnap victims or stolen merchandise. The company also did the occasional job for the government which Brody said he couldn't elaborate on. They contracted several agents from another agency who supplied man-power to companies like theirs and they were talking about hiring six more people to create a second team.

Angie suddenly realized Ian had parked the car after their brief ride and was shutting the engine off. She looked through the windshield and saw the quiet steakhouse they'd agreed upon. Without saying a word, Ian got out of the car, closed his door and walked around to open hers while she waited. Somehow she knew he would do that, and she liked the gesture. It'd been a while since someone other than Jimmy had opened a door for her.

As they walked across the parking lot, Ian took her hand and hooked it under his elbow. He skillfully avoided puddles left over from the late afternoon shower which had passed through the area, and held the restaurant door open for her. She got the feeling he wasn't doing all those things to impress her but he did them naturally for any woman he was out with. The thought made her feel like this evening was somewhere between routine and special to him, but she hoped it was leaning toward special.

After they were seated and ordered their drinks, instead of picking up his menu, Ian rested his forearms on the table and studied her for a moment. "So tell me about this blind date you were going on so I can get this jealousy I'm feeling out of my system."

She laughed, figuring he was kidding, but played along. "Well, there's not much to tell. My friend hooked me up with Melvin Fromm, a thirty-five year old CPA with rude manners since he canceled on me ten minutes before I was supposed to meet him. And the best excuse he could think of was 'something came up’."

The corners of Ian's mouth twitched twice before he could no longer hide his grin and a quiet snort. "Melvin, huh?" She nodded with her own amused smile. "Okay, I don't think I have to worry about him sweeping you off your feet anytime in the future, so I'll tamp my jealousy back down. I'll just be grateful the idiot canceled on you because it gave me the opportunity to spend the evening with an incredibly beautiful woman."

Oh, Lord, why couldn't she stop blushing around this man? It wasn't as if she'd never had a good-looking guy compliment her and flirt with her before. She dated often, but for some reason, Ian took it to a whole new level for her. Their drinks were delivered, a draft beer for him and a cosmopolitan for her and they fell into an easy conversation about normal, everyday subjects. It wasn't until their waitress checked on them for a third time, did they pick up their menus to order something.

"So," Ian said, after the waitress left to place their orders, "tell me what you do as a graphic designer because I've never met one before. Wait...first tell me how you became one. Is it something you always wanted to do?"

Angie took a sip of her drink then shook her head. "Actually, I never realized I had any artistic ability, beyond doodling, until my sophomore year at high school when I had to take a mandatory art class. My teacher, Mr. Abraham, was the first person to see I had talent and pushed and inspired me to learn more about every artistic medium out there. He became my mentor, took me to art shows and museums, and helped me cultivate my own style. I ended up with pencil drawings, oil painting and computer graphics as my main interests, although I dabble in some watercolors and sculpting when inspiration hits.

"I earned a partial scholarship to the School of Visual Arts in New York and earned my Masters of Fine Arts. I spent the next six years working for a large graphic design company in New York City before I couldn't take the bitter winters anymore. The last straw was when a taxi hit a slush puddle near me and covered me from head to toe in cold, nasty water while I was on my way to work." Ian gave her a sympathetic laugh at the image of her looking like an irate, drowned rat. "Anyway, I'd visited a few friends who live Tampa before and knew I liked it. So I packed up, moved south five years ago and never looked back. I'd been doing some side work for a few internet clients while still in New York, so I branched out and built my own business from there. I design websites, printed brochures, and graphics for magazines, books and company logos–basically whatever a client wants." She took out her cell phone and flipped to the e-book cover she'd shown Jimmy a few weeks earlier. "This is a book cover I designed for a client last month and it ended up getting me a new contract with a publishing company."

He took the phone from her and studied the picture. It was a photo of a man's bare muscular back and shoulders stopping just above his neck down to his black leather covered ass. A bullwhip was between his two hands and stretched taut across his back from shoulder to hip. Female hands came from around his front and clutched both of his butt cheeks and were the only parts of her body which were visible. Her long fingernails were painted a deep red which almost looked like blood. From how the woman's hands were situated, anyone looking at the picture would know her face was in the guy's crotch and it made one wonder if she was giving him a blowjob yet or not. The book's title
Lydia's Desire
and the author's name were done in the same red as the woman's nails. Ian looked up at Angie and smiled. "A guy's ass and naked back aren't my thing but I know a lot of women who would be drooling over this cover. It's erotic-looking with the whip."

"Well, it was an erotic romance with BDSM and all, so I had to spice it up some. It was actually a good book."

Handing her phone back to her, he raised one eyebrow. "You read books with erotica?"

Putting her phone back in her purse, she shrugged her shoulders, a little embarrassed she’d admitted that. "There's so much of it out there nowadays, it's hard to avoid, even if you aren't into it. You can't always tell by the title and cover of a book, but some of it is fun to read and fantasize about."

Ian took a casual sip of his beer. She'd answered his question loud and clear, even if her response was a bit vague. He knew she was submissive by her mannerism, but being a submissive and knowing you were one and wanted to participate in the lifestyle were two different things. Not just apples and oranges, it was more like mice and elephants–they were two different species and one could crush the other if not careful. He intentionally lowered his voice to his Dominant tone. "Does the BDSM lifestyle interest you?"

Her blush was back again and her eyes shifted down to the table. His heart rate picked up and his cock began to harden. Whether she admitted it to him verbally or not, the subject definitely interested her, and he wondered if she'd experimented with sex before. At thirty-three, he doubted she was a virgin but what had her past sexual encounters consisted of? Had they been pure vanilla, or had she let any of her lovers tie her up, spank her or flog her? Had any of them pushed her limits, fucked her heart shaped ass? Given her orgasms which took forever to come down from? Had anyone ever fucked those moist red lips of hers and cum down her throat? In some ways he wanted her to tell him she practiced the lifestyle and in other ways, he didn't want to think of any man doing any of those things to her. He wanted to be the one to introduce her to his world of kink. Thinking she would appreciate it, he decided to let her off the hook...for now.

He cleared his throat to let her know he was changing the subject. "My soon-to-be-sister-in-law's cousin...huh, how's that for a-round-about way for saying I know a guy...who's the assistant curator for the Tampa Museum of Art. They're opening a new exhibit tomorrow night at some big gala for their staff and benefactors. Since my brother and I recently made a donation we received invites. I was going to go stag, stay for a half hour and then beat it, but now I have a better idea. Would you please put me out of my misery by attending it with me so I don't have to talk to a whole bunch of stuffy, boring people? Kristen and her cousin, Will, would kill me if I bail, so I have to make an appearance."

Her face became animated with excitement. "Is that the exhibit that's on loan from the Louvre?" When he nodded, she gushed, "Oh my God, I would love to go. I was planning on taking a whole day off next week to go see it."

"Well, you can see it tomorrow night as long as you don't mind me not knowing a bloody thing about art. I can look at something and say 'yes, I like it,' or 'no, I hate it,' but that's about it."

Her smile was flirtatious and infectious. "I'd be happy to teach you a bit about what I know."

"Only if you let me teach you a bit about something I know some time." Ian was going to hell. He knew it the moment the word 'deal' came out of her pretty red lips and he couldn't help but think, what a way to go.

The waitress brought their meals and Ian waited until she walked away again after making sure they didn't need anything else. "The gala starts at seven, so I'll pick you up about twenty of, since we'll be dealing with Friday night traffic. Oh, and it's black tie."

Angie picked up her knife and fork and started to cut into her chicken cordon bleu. "I have the perfect dress then. A friend of mine got married at the Guggenheim last year and it was black tie also. I only wore the dress once and I always hoped I could wear it again, because I love it."

"Well, in that case, I can't wait to see you in it." And hopefully, he thought, peel it off you at the end of the night.

Angie checked her hair and makeup for the fourth time in five minutes. She had to stop fussing because she would ruin what her hairdresser and a makeup artist at the salon had worked so hard to do. Her hair was pulled up in a romantic up-do with one ringlet falling down around her face from the top of each cheekbone. She had so many bobby-pins and so much hairspray on, it felt like a helmet but there was no way she could mess it up, as long as she stopped fooling with it. The makeup was more than she usually wore, yet it was still understated. The shadow, liner and mascara around her eyes made the green color pop and she loved the effect. She wore simple jewelry, a pair of diamond stud earrings which had belonged to her mother and a gold bangle bracelet Jimmy had given her when she'd graduated from art school.

She looked at her reflection in the wardrobe mirror on the back of her closet door and checked her dress again too. Thank goodness she kept up her workouts three times a week or the thing might not have fit. She'd gained about five or six pounds, mostly in her hips and thighs, since she'd been at her friend's wedding but the spandex lining in the black size-ten dress had enough give so it still looked great. The top was a halter style which looped around her neck with a gold chain and the front had a built-in bra support so her girls were fine. The chiffon material stopped under her arms, leaving her shoulders and most of her back bare before starting again at her waist line and falling straight down to her feet. There was a slit up her left leg which went to the middle of her thigh and she completed the look with a pair of shimmering gold Michael Kors shoes with a four and a half inch stiletto heel. She was glad Ian was so much taller than some of the guys she had dated because she was able to wear the really high heels she loved so much.

Her mind drifted back to when Ian had dropped her off after dinner last night. He'd escorted her to her door, taken the keys from her hand and opened the lock for her. He didn't turn the doorknob because she would've only had thirty seconds to get inside, close the door and enter the alarm code before the cops were sent. When he'd stood near enough for her to feel his body heat but not touch, she'd wanted to pull him closer.

Handing her back her keys, his voice became low and sexy. "So, did you have a good time?"

A shiver had assaulted her body. She'd known what he was asking. He'd said earlier if she had a good time, he wanted a goodnight kiss. And she'd definitely had a good time, in fact, she had a great time. "Yes, I did. Does this mean you're going to kiss me?"

She had frozen in place, unable to believe she'd said the words aloud. She'd never been shy about dating, foreplay and sex before, however, she wasn't normally too forward either, taking her cues from the man she was with most of the time.

Ian's mouth had ticked up in an amused grin before he lifted his hand to cup her chin and pulled her toward him. With their lips a scant inch from touching, he'd whispered, "It does."

And then sparks flew.

Holy shit could the man kiss! He'd been gentle at first, using only his lips as they moved seductively over hers, giving her the opportunity to pull away if she wanted to. When she didn't, his tongue began probing the seam of her lips, encouraging her to open them and grant him access to her mouth. She hadn't been able to refuse and the instant her lips parted, his tongue was inside her, tasting and exploring every inch of her mouth. He hadn't been sloppy as some men could be with their tongues–no, his actions were a cross between tender and insistent as if he was savoring and devouring her at the same time. He didn't do anything else but hold her chin and kiss her. No other parts of their bodies touched. When he'd all-too-soon ended the kiss, easing away from her, she'd groaned and almost begged him to take her right there outside her front door where anyone could see them.

He'd paused a minute to let them both catch their breaths before telling her to go inside, turn off the alarm, lock the door and reset the alarm. She noticed through the long narrow window beside her front door he'd waited until he saw her re-arm the control panel before he smiled and walked back to his car. She had been rooted to the spot for a long time after he'd pulled away, remembering every second of the incredible kiss. After she'd shed her clothes and gone to bed nude, which was normal, her mind was still focused on how her body had come alive the moment it had made contact with his. While her brain wandered, her hand had moved to the juncture between her legs almost on its own volition. It hadn't taken her long to stroke herself to an orgasm so strong that, afterward, she'd drifted asleep with her hand still between her legs and dreams of Ian in her head.

The doorbell rang and she was startled out of her reminiscing. Grabbing her evening purse and shawl from the bed, she practically ran to the front door and swung it open. Good Lord, he was gorgeous standing on her doorstep in what she believed was an Armani tuxedo which had to have been made for him because the fit was perfect. The five o'clock shadow which had graced his jaw the night before was gone and she wanted to rub her hand across the soft, recently shaven skin. There wasn't a thing out of place from the top of his dark-haired head to the tips of his shiny, formal black shoes, and the man exuded power, authority and, most of all, sex. She was sure she'd be fighting the women away from him tonight. When she took a deep breath, his cologne hit her nose and she almost swooned. It was her favorite–Oud Wood by Tom Ford–and knowing he wore it with her in mind made her lightheaded.

It took a moment for her to realize they were both silently staring at each other when he cleared his throat. "I'm going to be the envy of every man at the gala tonight. Angel, you look stunning."

As she blushed from his compliment, her eyes almost filled up. No one had called her 'Angel' since her older brother, Sam. He'd been killed in a car accident along with three other members of his senior high school football team in a tragedy which had shocked their home town. Nine years older than Angie, her brother had adored and doted on her and he'd been her hero. She realized how much she missed hearing someone call her the pet name, as if she was the most precious thing in the world. Swallowing hard, she opened her mouth to tell Ian how good he looked too when the alarm control panel next to her started beeping rapidly, warning her to enter the code before the police were alerted.

"Crap!" She scrambled to enter the six-digit number, fumbling once and needing to start over, while Ian remained where he was, chuckling at her dilemma. When the alarm was silenced and the light turned green, she turned to him with a sheepish smile. "Sorry. What I was about to say is, you look wonderful too."

He reached out to take her wrap and held it up for her, placing it over her shoulders when she turned around for him. Pivoting back to face him, she took in his heated gaze and thought if they didn't leave now they'd be heading straight to her bedroom. As if he had the same thought, he took a step backward and held out his arm for her to take. "Shall we?"

Angie reset the alarm, locked the door before pulling it shut behind her and tucked her hand under his proffered arm.

With the evening traffic being heavier than usual, the ride took closer to thirty-five minutes. As Ian drove his dark grey Audi RS 5 coupe, instead of his SUV, through the streets of Tampa she told him what she knew about the exhibit they were going to see when he asked her about it. The large collection on loan from France consisted of 18th century art worth about two-hundred-million dollars. While it centered on most forms of paintings, there were also numerous sculptures in many different mediums included. It'd taken the Tampa Museum of Art almost eight years to negotiate and plan for the exhibition which would remain in Florida for six months before returning to its home in the Louvre once again. Angie had spent a two-week class trip in Paris during the break before her final semester at art school and had seen the exhibit there. However, she always wanted a chance to see the beautiful works of art again to study them at her leisure and she was so excited she now had the chance. But, she thought, being on the arm of her handsome date was going to make the experience unforgettable.

* * *

When they pulled up to the front entrance to the museum the place was all decked out with lights, a red carpet and red-vested valets. Several photographers waited for a chance to get a picture of Tampa's own and visiting elite. The mayor, governor and several celebrities who lived in the area were expected to attend, as well as prominent business owners and other local well-known residents. Ian got out of his car, leaving his door open for the young man waiting to move it to a parking area, took his claim ticket and rounded the car. Another valet had helped Angie from the vehicle, so Ian took her hand and pulled her into his side. A few photographers called his name and he paused for half a second for them to take his and Angie's picture for the society pages. Although he hated the attention, he'd learned early on if he gave the vultures what they wanted for a brief moment they didn't hound him later. His brother and he had a very successful and reputable business in Trident Security and an even more successful club in The Covenant. They'd earned frequent invitations to elite functions as a result, although very few people outside of the private sex club knew the Sawyer brothers and their cousin, Mitch, owned it.

Even less people new about their relationship with Charles 'Chuck' Sawyer, a billionaire from Charlotte, North Carolina. Their dad had worked his way from a small real estate business to a corporate empire, owning hotels, resorts, malls, apartment complexes, et cetera, throughout the Carolinas and Virginias. Chuck and his wife Marie, a plastic surgeon, had taken pains to make sure their children were raised with morals and strong work ethics. They tried their best to keep them out of the public spotlight which came with their father's money and the boys had to earn everything they were ever given. When they reached their teens, they all had to either get a job or volunteer at a non-profit organization of their choice. Chuck Sawyer had set up trust funds for each of his sons provided they either go into the military for four years or get a four year college degree. Full access to their funds didn't kick in until they reached the age of thirty.

Ian had chosen the Navy long before his senior year, as had their brother Nick, who at twenty-five was thirteen years younger than Ian. Devon, two years Ian's junior, originally chose college but left after one semester when their other brother, John, died of alcohol poisoning. He'd skipped a day of school his senior year of high school and went on a morning bender in their home. When their father found him at noon, he was cold and blue having aspirated on his own vomit. No one had suspected the teen had spiraled downward into the void of alcoholism.

Devon never returned to school and joined Ian in the Navy in some sort of subconscious effort to take over John's career plans. Although Ian hadn't agreed with the reasoning behind Devon's enlistment, in the end, it'd turned out to be the best thing for him.

Escorting Angie up the carpeted outdoor steps and into the museum, Ian couldn't help the mixture of pride and jealousy striking him when he noticed other men and some women admiring and lusting after her. He held on to her hand a little tighter, unwilling to allow one of the sharks to move in and steal her away from him. Looking down at the beautiful woman next to him he knew he hadn't exaggerated earlier–she was stunning. The black and gold dress fit her like a glove. When she'd turned around earlier to let him put her wrap over her shoulders, he'd taken one look at her toned, bare back and shoulders and had felt his cock jerk with desire. With the open back of the dress, it was obvious she wasn't wearing a bra. He'd been seconds away from canceling their plans and dragging her into her bedroom when she'd turned back around to look at him again. Somehow he found the strength to give her his arm instead of falling victim to his lust.

His thoughts ventured back to the night before when he'd walked her to her door. With Angie's wide-eyed and O-shaped mouth expression, he'd known she hadn't meant to voice her question about him kissing her aloud, but he was glad she did. When it came to women, Ian didn't like having to guess what they were thinking, feeling or wanting. His former fiancée, Kaliope Levine, walked out on him ten years ago after telling him she was tired of him not being romantic, able to read her moods and anticipate what she wanted, among other things. Now he wanted everything spelled out between him and any woman he dated. He was never letting another woman get that close to him again, but while he was dating someone, he wanted no misunderstandings between them. He wasn't a mind-reader. It was one of the reasons he loved the lifestyle he was in. Openness and honesty were a big part of it and it suited him just fine.

After Ian took Angie's wrap and gave it to the coat check, he added the claim stub to the valet one inside his coat pocket. He placed a possessive hand on the skin of her lower back above the edge of her dress and steered her in the right direction. He let the warmth of his hand sink into her body and was thrilled to feel a shiver go through her. As he led her toward the wing where the exhibit and gala were taking place, he stopped at a tuxedoed waiter holding a tray of champagne. Taking one glass, he handed it to Angie before acquiring one for himself, never removing his other hand from her back. They began walking again and as they approached the entrance to the north wing, he heard a male voice call his name. Scanning the people around him, he spotted Will striding toward them. The man extended his hand, forcing Ian to remove the one on Angie's back before returning it to its original spot after greeting his friend. Will looked curiously at Angie and Ian introduced them. "Will, this is my date and Egghead's new neighbor, Angelina Beckett. Angie, this is Will Anders."