"Why not?" Charlotte asked.
And that was her conservative sister speaking. It boggled the mind. "Because," she said in exasperation. "I can't."
"Why not?" Charlotte asked, shrugging.
"Well . . ." That was a good question. Why couldn't she really? She knew he wanted her. Lust was radiating all over his aura. She really was attracted to him, too, for whatever random reason.
But it seemed like such a risk, such a messy situation to walk into voluntarily. How would they even get from where they were to there, and if they did, what happened afterward? It sounded like a potential disaster. "Because . . ."
Akasha rubbed against her leg, the mistletoe still in its mouth. Inspiration struck. "Because it was the mistletoe that made him think he's into me. It's not real."
That should get her out of having to deal with it, and it might even be true. Even if Ian had arrived at the door looking like he wanted to eat her way before he'd had any contact with the lust-spell-loaded mistletoe.
"That's lame. When he comes back tomorrow I think you should go for it," Abby said.
"He's not going to come here tomorrow. He's probably going back to Chicago."
And she could forget all about Ian Carrington and his sexy brown eyes.
Except he didn't go back to Chicago.
Bree's stomach dropped when twenty-four hours later her doorbell rang and a peek out her front window showed none other than Ian standing on her doorstep again. Damn. How was that even possible? And she was totally alone. Charlotte was at work, and Abby was at their parents' house. Alone was bad. Dangerous. A test of her self-control, which—she had to admit—didn't seem all that intact.
At least she was wearing a loose skirt and a very unsexy black cardigan. That would help her feel less naked when he looked at her. Taking a deep breath, she pulled open the door. The cardigan was insufficient armor. She still felt naked under his intense scrutiny.
"Hi." She tried to smile, but didn't quite manage more than a tight-lipped upturn.
"Hi. Sorry to bother you again, but my client has countered with another offer. Can I come in?"
That threw her off. Another offer on her house? That was random. "Sure."
It was a long walk down the hall to the kitchen, and Bree's cheeks burned as she wondered if Ian was looking at her butt. It made her self-conscious, torn between wanting to put some effort into rolling her hips to show off her assets and wanting to cover herself with her hands. In the end, she tried really hard to just walk normally, but doubted she succeeded.
"Another offer? What does that mean exactly?" she asked him, gesturing for him to have a seat.
"It means that when I told my client you were not interested in selling, he upped the amount of his offer." Ian pulled out a piece of paper and pushed it over to her.
Bree's mouth went dry when she saw the dollar amount in black-and-white. "This is insane." It was a lot of money. She never would have guessed her grandmother's house was worth that much.
"It's a very respectable offer."
Bree glanced up at Ian. She couldn't tell if he cared one way or the other if she agreed to the offer. He had a poker face that was unnerving. Even his emotions, his aura, revealed nothing to her of his opinion about the house. But the sexual interest was there again. It was intense and vibrant, and it made her want to run away at the same time that it fired up every neuron in her body. He had the most compelling and intense eyes, and she felt seriously off kilter around him.
"I think it's actually too much. But that's irrelevant because I'm not going to sell. It's my grandmother's house." Bree couldn't part with the remaining piece of her grandmother, the woman who had taught her tarot and witchcraft. Charlotte had inherited their grandmother's tea shop, and had promptly turned it into a profitable coffee shop. That had been the smart, practical thing to do, but Bree couldn't help but miss the tea shop and its pleasant memories. She was sentimental in the extreme, and she wasn't going to sell the house just for the cash. She'd rather have that connection to her grandma indefinitely.
"I know."
"You know that it's my grandmother's house?"
"Yes. And I know that you won't sell it. But my client is wealthy and stubborn and used to getting what he wants. He'll keep making offers, and I'm obligated to deliver them. I'm sorry."
Ian didn't look sorry, exactly. He looked more ambivalent than anything. Like he was used to doing his job, following through on rich men's whims, and the outcome didn't much matter. It unnerved Bree a little, made her wonder who exactly Ian Carrington was and what he stood for. "It's okay. He can keep offering, but I'll just keep saying no. Seems like a waste of time, but I understand people are irrational."
As was her attraction to the man in front of her.
But she could also admit that she had spent most of her life living by emotion, not logic, so maybe her sisters were right. Maybe she needed to just embrace the idea of an affair with Ian. See where it led, if anywhere. Even if it went nowhere, she had a sneaking suspicion the sex would be well worth it.
"Well, I won't take up any more of your