She stood up and cuddled the cat against her chest.
Ian didn't think a dinner invitation would have any chance whatsoever of being accepted, so he stood up as well. "Thanks for your time. I'll let my client know you're not interested."
"Thanks." Bree's mouth opened like she was going to say something, but then she closed it again.
The silence hung awkwardly for a second while they stared at each other for no apparent reason other than that Ian was having a hard time making his feet move him to the door. He really needed to come up with another excuse to see her. Tomorrow. But his brain wasn't cooperating and creating any plausible reason. Just when he was about to give up and save face by exiting, Abby stepped between them, breaking Ian and Bree's eye contact.
"You don't need a reason, Ian," Abby said. "You can totally stop by tomorrow."
Ian started. Had the kid read his mind or what? His feet lost their paralysis, and on that note, he waved good-bye to the women and got the hell out of there.
Chapter 2
"Abby, what are you doing?" Bree stood in her front hall watching Ian Carrington head down the snowy walk to an expensive-looking black car. "Are you just trying to embarrass the hell out of me or do you have a death wish?"
The whole ten-minute encounter with Ian had been an exercise in mortification. She couldn't even fathom why she had been so intent on getting Akasha from him. But she had thought the cat would bite or scratch him, and the thought of the meticulous Ian Carrington having his pricey pants torn into by her cat had panicked her. Of course, it had wound up being far more embarrassing to be crawling around on the floor in front of him, her eyes level with his crotch. She should have just let the damn cat sink her claws into his thigh.
"What?" Abby looked entirely unremorseful. "He's the dude I saw in the cards, and you're just blowing him off. I had to try and do something so you don't screw up the whole rest of your life."
Bree shuddered, a lifetime
of attachment to such a pompous overachiever too horrific to contemplate. Though she had to admit, if she were honest, the way he stared at her, like he wanted to take off her clothes and devote all of his intensity to her body, was hot. Just a little. Okay, a lot. It was bizarre, given she didn't really like him, but her naughty bits seemed to think he could do a thing or two for her, because he turned her on, no doubt about it.
"I am not going to fall in love with that guy. But you were right about one thing—he does want to have sex with me. I picked up on that empathically."
Charlotte snorted. "You don't have to be empathic or psychic to figure that out. He was virtually drooling over your butt."
Bree involuntarily grabbed her backside. "He was? Ohmigod, are you serious?"
Her sisters both nodded, Charlotte solemn, Abby gleeful.
"When did he do that?" And more importantly, how had her butt looked?
"When you were walking down the hall to the kitchen," Charlotte said.
Damn herself for wearing such a tight skirt. "Did I look okay? I mean, am I having a good-ass day or a bad-ass day? God, this is awful."
Charlotte laughed. "What the hell is a good-ass day?"
Bree saw nothing amusing about it. "You know, when your butt looks good in whatever you're wearing, when it's sort of living up to its fullest potential, being the best your butt can be." Duh.
But her sister looked at her like she'd lost her mind. "That is the freakiest thing I've ever heard you say, and you've said a lot of weird things over the years."
"Your butt looked great," Abby told her.
"See? Abby gets it." And Bree was marginally reassured. She didn't want to want Ian, and she didn't want him looking at her and not wanting her either.
"So we all know he wants to have sex with you, but the question is, do you want to have sex with him?" Charlotte pinned her with a hard stare. "And be honest."
Did she have to be? Bree bit her lip, something she never did. Exasperated, with herself, she crossed her arms over her chest. "I don't know. Maybe. He's totally not my type, and I know I don't want to date him, but I can admit that I find him attractive in the most basic animalistic sort of way." And his intensity fascinated her, but she was not going to say that out loud.
This was not the way she had pictured her day. It was supposed to be a normal day, in which she lamented her celibate status but simultaneously applauded her independence, when she spent time with her sisters putting up a Christmas tree and ate those satanically delicious butter cookies Charlotte insisted on baking.
"So just do him," Abby said. "It's a good jumping point."
When had her baby sister become so outrageous? Wait. Abby had always been that way. Maybe it was the result of being conceived on a grave in the cemetery, but Bree should realize that literally anything could come out of Abby's mouth at any given moment.
"I can't just 'do him.' "