time then." Ian tucked his paper away and stood up.
That was it? Bree frowned. Here she had virtually just decided that she could have sex with him, and he was just going to leave without asking her out or at least hitting on her or flirting?
She knew he wanted her. Knew it. It was irrefutable.
Yet he wasn't going to act on it? That was all sorts of wrong.
As was the fact that she was offended by his lack of action. The whole thing was ridiculous.
"Okay. Thanks." She had no idea what the hell she was thanking him for, but she was at a loss as to what else to say.
In sixty seconds he was down the hall and pausing on her porch right outside the front door. "Good-bye," he said. Then he smiled at her.
It was the first time she'd ever seen him smile, and it was devastating in its charm and sensuality. It revealed straight and white teeth and crooked up a little in the corner. It was a smile that said he knew what she was thinking, the kind of smile that could bring women to their knees, and most of all, it was the smile of a man who knew how to please a woman.
So Bree shut the door on his sexy face.
She didn't feel like playing games.
Or maybe she was offended that he could want her physically but had reservations about liking her, as a person.
Of course, she was doing the same thing about him. Wanting his body but not necessarily him.
Which made the whole damn thing too complicated. She was letting it go. Done with it.
But she still found herself wandering back into the kitchen and pulling out her tarot cards. Maybe they would reveal to her why, exactly, a sexy lawyer from Chicago had popped into her life, only to pop right back out.
Only all she could seem to see in the cards was a future real-estate transaction, which was totally boring, and totally wrong. She was not going to sell her house to Ian Carrington's rich client.
"Never," she said out loud to the spread in front of her, pushing all the cards back into a pile and wondering if she had any ice cream in the freezer.
Cold outside or not, she could use a little comfort from the carton.
Chapter 3
Ian was pulling in the driveway of the bed-and-breakfast he was staying in, annoyed with himself for wimping out and not asking Bree to dinner, when he sensed movement in the car with him. He glanced over to the passenger seat and slammed on the brakes.
"What the hell?"
Bree's cat was sitting on the seat, staring up at him calmly, mistletoe dangling from her mouth.
"How did you get into my car?" The doors had been shut at Bree's house. Locked. He was positive of that. Even if he had, just this one time, inadvertently forgotten to lock it, it wasn't like the cat could open car doors by herself.
But Akasha wasn't answering him, thank God, and he had no choice but to put the car in reverse and drive back to Bree's. Ian glanced over at the cat every few seconds, wary of her. He didn't believe in magic or witches or the power of black cats.
Nonetheless, he had a feline Houdini miraculously sitting next to him at the end of a five-minute drive, and it was weirding him out. Especially since the cat just stared at him, that sprig of greenery dangling from her mouth, her big green eyes unblinking.
"What?" Ian asked her in irritation. "You look stupid with that thing hanging from your mouth, you know."
Akasha dropped the mistletoe onto the seat.
Ian felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. Man, he needed to get out of this town. Cuttersville billed itself as Ohio's Most Haunted Town, and he had always thought it was a ridiculous designation. Now he was struggling with the illogic of certain things, like the dreams he'd been having and this crazy-ass cat.
"Okay, you're home. Bree is probably wondering where the hell you are." Ian parked his car in Bree's driveway and gave a sigh as he glanced up at the big Victorian. It was a cool house, totally different from his streamlined, modern apartment, reminding him a bit of the house in which he'd grown up, though his mother's farmhouse had been more shabby than architecturally intriguing. But this Victorian was pretty and complicated, somewhat brooding and mysterious. The alleged witch who lived there shared the same characteristics with her house, and Ian doubted she was going to be thrilled to see him again. She didn't seem to like him, nor did she seem to be suffering from the same overpowering lust that he was. Unfortunately.
Grabbing the cat in a firm grip, Ian carried her up the walk and rang the bell.
Bree answered the door with a frown. "What are you doing with Akasha?"