Temporary (Indelibly Marked #2) (8 page)

She put the wipes down. “What are you afraid of?”

“You’re not supposed to ask a question.” Did she forget how
their interplay worked?

“What am I supposed to do?”

“You are supposed to tell me what to do and fix it like when
you do my taxes.” There were definite rules to the protocol. Maybe they needed
to write them down or something.

“Tell me what you’re afraid of and I’ll give you some
advice.” She tilted her head.

Deep in thought, he pulled his lip and glanced around the
room, at the matching furniture, the art on the wall, all the trappings of a
living room. “What if we broke up? She’s a little young.” He took a breath and
primed himself for the fix.

Instead, she took his hand and pressed it to her stomach.

A little pop met his fingers. “What the hell?”

“That’s the baby.” She slid his hand over a few inches.

It happened again and he couldn’t help but smile. “That’s
creepy cool.” He looked at her and back down to her stomach. “Do it again.”

“Let me try.”

They both sat silent for a moment and at last the baby
kicked once more. “That is awesome.”

“Ivan.” She put her hand over his and used the tone that
told him the guidance was heading toward him, full steam ahead.

He lifted his eyebrows waiting for the revelation.

“The older you get, the less it matters.” The baby kicked as
if to punctuate her statement.

Ivan gave her stomach a thumbs up.

“I don’t think you’re afraid of breaking up with her. I
think you’re afraid of what happens if you don’t.”

His heart seized and he shot up. “I think I should go see
what the guys are doing in the garage.” He gave her belly a gentle pat and made
a break for the door.

~~*~~

“Are you having a good time Miss Elliott?” From across the
small table, James nodded, his slicked back neat hair, a far cry from Ivan’s
long locks.

Under the table, Emily squeezed her hand into a fist. She
should have gone out with Ivan, or been alone. Every thought was focused on the
man who never took her on a real date, but owned a piece of her she wanted
back. “I am.” She would have to be insane not to have a good time. Yet, her mind
wandered at every turn.

James had done everything humanly and superhumanly possibly
to ensure their time together would forever go down in the dating hall of fame.
Everything, from arriving three minutes early, to giving her a bouquet of
daisies in a cut crystal vase, to manners that rivaled any old-English
gentleman, would get most women to swoon and call for smelling salts.

Damn, she wanted to feel faint.

She glanced around the posh West Hollywood restaurant, the
kind paparazzi hung out in front of, praying to spot a celebrity. The
restaurant was built to highlight the beauty and hide the flaws with its black
and white ultra-modern décor and multi-colored lights. One could get lost or
stand out, and it all depended on your clout and companions. In truth, he chose
the venue perfectly, one of the few places where those in suits and those with
an edge converged.

“Excellent, I wouldn’t want to think my charms only went as
far as my amazing stationery.” He flashed her a smile fit to make any mother’s
heart melt.

“You have other attributes.” She let out a laugh, not
meaning her words to come out as flirty as they sounded. Maybe it was a sign of
hope. Once she stopped thinking about Ivan she could let someone else in. Of
course, acknowledging she wasn’t thinking about Ivan only meant she thought
about Ivan.

“As do you, besides your obvious artistic abilities, your
kiss earlier was quite incredible.” Without touching his elbows to the table,
he leaned forward and his gaze traveled over her.

For the first time since the date started, a bit of welcomed
warmth crept into her cheeks. “I’m sorry if I shocked you.”

“Some shocks are better than others.” James winked. “I think
I neglected to tell you how beautiful you look tonight.”

Up until that moment, the twinge had been lacking. They’d
filled the evening with a lot of the chitchat that occupied a first date. Talk
about his law firm and the tattoo shop, and what she did on her off hours took
center stage. Maybe she forgot about some of the parts of dating, because she
honestly couldn’t remember the last date she went on with someone she didn’t
know, and she had never truly dated Ivan. At last she admitted the truth and
hit her in the center of her chest. He was right; they couldn’t break up
because they weren’t together.

Once more she forced herself to focus on James. “So do you.”
Dressed in a dark grey double breasted suit, white shirt and royal blue tie, he
looked like…well, an attorney, a professional, a man who took things seriously.
James personified a good, well-bred man, a man who could stand in front of a
judge and then go for an afternoon tea, or golfing, or own the golf course.

“You’re going to make me blush.” He tilted his head. “Would
like anything else? An after dinner drink?”

At least three people from the wait staff stepped forward as
if expecting a command. All night she watched James use an elusive sign
language. From the Chef’s special tasting menu of dishes she never even knew
existed, to his family’s special wine reserve, delicacies and accompanying
garnishes she didn’t recognize and didn’t want to recognize, appeared on the
table without James ever uttering a word. The entire date, she struggled to
keep up. Emily almost wanted to ask for the kiddie menu. “I couldn’t, but thank
you.” She sat up straighter, feeling as if she were on display.

“Very well.” He raised one finger. Like magic a check
appeared and without looking at the bill, he slipped the waiter a credit card.
Lindsay would never approve.

“You said you had a deposition in the morning.” The sooner
they got out of here, the sooner she could relax into a comfortable slouch. If
Ivan were there, he would be leaning back in the booth with a beer. They would
have laughed at all the different people and picked through the menu only to
both choose a steak with no sauce. Then later they would go back to her place
or his. He always preferred his place. In fact, she still had some clothes and
her extra toothbrush over there. Maybe later she should go over there and get
her favorite pink t-shirt.

“I do have a deposition, and you have to do some practicing
with your makeup.” He raised his eyebrows.

She swallowed down the lump in her throat at James
performing Ivan’s signature move.

The silent waiter snuck the check back in front of James.
“One day I would love to see what you do. Actually, I would love to watch a
tattoo as well.” He signed the check.

“Maybe with the case and all, it would be good idea to see
one.” Did she turn her date into a business meeting?

“Then let’s set that up.” He stood and offered her his arm.
“Shall we?”

James’ large, shining, silver German sedan stood waiting and
ready at the entrance for them. No need to wait in the light sprinkles for the
valet.

He opened the door for her and she slipped on to the plush
leather. Her dad, Carson, and Shane all drove vintage cars—cars with style but
few features. Ivan rode a motorcycle, only taking his late model SUV if he was
in dire need of something enclosed. The last time she and Ivan got stuck in the
rain on his bike, they went directly back to his place where he insisted they
warm up with a shower.

James joined her and they drove away.

The sprinkles turned into a light rain, and all the lights
down Sunset Boulevard sparkled like scattered jewels.

The man had given her a dream date, and still her mind
wandered to the one guy she wanted but would never truly have.

“Next time we go out, we need to plan it on a night where
neither of us have to work the next day.” He reached over and took her hand.

“For sure.” She stared down at their hands, but their
fingers didn’t fit together in that special way, a way she couldn’t even
describe. They needed chemistry, familiarity, what she had with Ivan. Maybe she
wasn’t trying hard enough.

He made the turn down her small street, gliding the car to a
stop in front of her apartment building. “Well, here we are.”

She froze. Though he put the car in park, he made no move to
open any doors. If memory served her correctly, a kiss would be in order, or in
the case of her more adult dates, the man asked to come inside. Ivan never
asked anymore, he assumed, but then again, she did as well. No, she craved him.
When they stole away one evening and drove down the coast for what she would
have called a date, she never cared what they did; all she wanted were those few
borrowed hours alone with him.

James turned to her. “I hope you had a good time tonight.”

Why couldn’t she be the giggling girl, wondering if the man
would ask her out again, instead of the heartsick one wanting to escape?

“I did, thank you very much.” Most likely a sock on the arm
and a high five wasn’t going to get her out of the goodnight kiss…or more. For
the first time in her life, she wished her father stood in the window waiting
for her. That imposing shadow guaranteed to make any date drive away. Even
better, and possibly more effective, was one or all of her brothers. Of course
the time Ivan’s father showed up behind her date on his motorcycle took the
prize. Her date tripped trying to get away from her second dad.

With two fingers he touched her hair. “So what now?”

“I have to get up really early.” Hopefully her words served
as hint enough, though she wished she wanted to take him inside.

He moved in and she held her breath wanting, willing what
she felt earlier. Anything.

“Then I shall wish you a good night.” He gave her a nice
kiss on the cheek.

Nice.

The magic didn’t exist. She wondered what caused a spark.
Maybe with some it was a downpour, and with others only a drizzle. Both had
their benefits. “Thank you again.” Somehow she had to give it another try and
she kissed him once more time grazing the corner of his mouth.

A moan escaped his throat. He slid his hand behind her head
and began to pull her in. He might have experienced that indefinable something,
but she barely got a sprinkle, or even a light mist.

In a move Dillon taught her to ward off unwanted advances,
she put her hand up to his mouth, and giggled. Her brother said it would stop
every man because although things were ending, the giggle left room for
potential. “I really need to get inside.”

He kissed her fingers and smiled. “Let me walk you to the
door.”

“No, no, stay here.” She collected her purse and put a scarf
over her hair. “Stay dry.”

She managed to get out of the car without further protests,
and rushed around the back of the building to her studio. Her heart seized to
find a familiar form sitting on her step, and she skidded to a stop. “Ivan?”

“He didn’t walk you to the door?” He stood, his hair wet and
clinging to his face.

“It’s raining, I told him it was okay.” She took a breath
and moved under the awning.

“Yeah, so I sat through.” He leaned on the wall.

She dug her nails into her palm refusing to touch him, but
loving the sensation in her chest. He had turned her into an addict. “Why are
you here, Ivan?”

“I wanted to know if you had a good time on your date.”

“Why do you care?” The swinging of the pendulum was
beginning to give her motion sickness. One second they weren’t together, the
next they were making love. She didn’t even know which of them was the crazy
person.

“I don’t think you should be sleeping with our lawyer.” He
strummed his fingers on the wall.

“Really! When would I have the time?” With no doubt of who
was insane, she stomped up to him. “Oh yeah, who am I supposed to sleep with?
You?”

He opened his mouth.

“According to you, I should sleep with my brother’s best
friend but not date him. I’m too young to be with, but not too young to screw.”
She poked her finger into his chest. “Maybe I should sleep with you and date
James…then I’d have the best of both worlds. You can get your rocks off and I
can have a guy who will take me out.”

“Then I don’t know why you aren’t streamlining your
operation and sleeping with James as well.”

“This is why.” She circled his neck with her arms, pulling
him down to her lips.

The tension between them vanished into thin air to be
replaced with magic.

Their bodies fit together and made everything in the world
disappear.

Instantly, he wrapped his arms around her, held her close in
the way that made her believe the illusion of Ivan could be real. In unison
they opened their mouths, their tongues touched. Tingles overtook her and her
stomach bottomed out at the same time. Only Ivan could conjure those strange
sensations that put her under a spell.

They broke the kiss, but Ivan continued to hold her, now
running his fingers against her cheek, down her neck to the side of her breast.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” He kissed her lips
and tried to deepen it.

She pulled back. “Unfortunately.” No matter who or what came
along, would she always be doomed to return to the man who couldn’t or wouldn’t
give her everything?

“Let me in on the riddle.” He pulled the scarf off her head
and tangled his hand in her hair.

She shook her head. Maybe he knew a grand trick, or maybe
she was simply stupid for believing in magic. It usually turned out to be
sleight of hand.

Chapter
Seven

Ivan peeked his head out of the storage room. Emily stood at
the front desk with her laptop and stack of papers, waiting to talk about shop
publicity.

She mentioned several times they needed to meet about
marketing.

She also texted, instant messaged, and wrote him a note on
her pink stationery using her purple pen and left it taped to mirror at his
station. Once the purple pen made an appearance, he was doomed.

Still, he sought refuge in the storage room, though the sand
in his hourglass was running out quickly.

She lifted her phone, buying him a few precious moments.

A second later his phone vibrated.

Without looking, he answered. “Yep.”

“When you are done watching me wait for you, can you come
over here so we can pull the bandage off the publicity?” Emily lifted her hand
to her side and began the great move he called
the tattoo scratch
.

At least he could get revenge. “Don’t touch your tattoo.”

She spun toward him, leaning back on the counter and lifting
her hand. “It itches.”

“Such is the life we lead.” He continued toward her. “Fine.
I want lunch after.”

“Okay, you’re buying.” She hit her side the way he taught
her.

“I was going to anyway, so you gain nothing.” With the phone
still at his ear, he stopped in front of her.

“You’re here, so I win.” She continued to speak into the
phone

He gazed into her eyes and shook his head. Truth be told, he
wouldn’t mind another one of those kisses she gave him the night of her date
with James. “Should we hang up?”

“I suppose.” She hit the end button.

He slid his phone back into his pocket. “Okay let’s do it.”
Maybe if he went through with the discussion, she would reward him.

“All right.” She graced him with a smile and turned back to
her laptop. “Look. Twisted is getting all sorts of press for talking about
things we’ve been doing for years, ultraviolet tattoos, three-dimensional
tattoos.”

He scanned what she showed him. “Okay.”

“Why don’t we go real old school and have you do a demo of
sketching right on the skin and doing the tattoo?” She returned her hand to her
side.

“Every tattoo artist does some freehand work.” He took her
hand and pulled it away from her tattoo.

Emily huffed. “They do fill in, or maybe they try a little
here and there if it’s a hard body area to tattoo. Most don’t do the whole
thing freehand like you do.”

“Who’s going to be the skin?”

“Well, you said the piece wasn’t complete.” She lifted her
shirt.

He kneeled down. “Your tattoo is healing nicely.”

Again, she reached to her side.

He slid his hand between her fingers of treachery and her
tattoo. “If you scratch, it you will wreck my ink.”

“Maybe you should do a piece on proper tattoo care.” She
glared down at him.

“Maybe Billy should take my course.” He pulled her shirt
down and stood. “Do you really think you want me to be the face of Permanent?”

The playful sneer left her lips, her eyes widened and she
pressed her palm to his cheek. “I have absolutely no doubt.”

“Can we go to lunch?” While she may have no doubts, his
piled up like boxes in the stock room.

“Does that mean you’ll do it?”

He tried to figure out any sort of detour or escape plan.
Nothing. He had nothing.

“You don’t realize who you are.” She stepped closer to him.

When she stared up at him like that, he could do anything,
and he could refuse her nothing. “I’ll do it. Whatever it takes.”

“We need it. Hopefully it will end soon.”

“Let’s go to lunch, come up with some pitches and call Jake
and some others.” Fine, he caved. “This fiasco will be over before we know it.”

“Okay, let’s go eat.” She shut her computer. “Maybe since
you are sacrificing yourself, I’ll treat.”

“You know it’s quite a big sacrifice, deli sacrifice.” He
picked up her bag.

“Oh fine, I will ply you with pastrami and rye.” Her phone
vibrated.

James’ name flashed across the screen.

He stifled a groan as she answered.

“James?” he whispered. Of course it was James. The wonders
of caller ID.

“Yes, we have to do it again. Thank you for calling
yesterday.” She let out a low laugh.

Great, James was the guy who called after the date.

While their conversation morphed into her responding with
one-word answers, he took the opportunity to end the call in a flash.

Not wanting to appear as if he was eavesdropping, he opened
her bag and waited for her to slap his hand.

Instead, she grabbed his wrist. “Talk to Ivan.” She thrust
her phone in his direction and turned away.

“What is it?” He took the phone. “James?”

She backed up against him, her trembling form vibrating
through his body.

“I was just explaining to Emily that I heard back from Mr.
Lipson’s attorney and they are rejecting our settlement offer.”

“Okay, so what does that mean for us?” The woman who didn’t
need the pussyball when she got her tattoo, squeezed his hand as if she were
enduring great bodily pain. He gave in and pulled her in tight.

“We can allow it to go to trial or we can ask for them to
agree to mediation.”

Ivan stared up at the ceiling remembering the day he, Shane,
Carson, and Emily spent hours painting it maroon. By the time they finished,
they were all covered in paint. Everything had been simple, easy, and
predictable. Suddenly, they were thrust into unfamiliar terrain. His sum total
of legal experience came from watching movies. Mediation sounded like something
done during a divorce. “Let the jerk take us to court!” Better yet he could
just beat the guy’s ass or tear his arm off, and then they wouldn’t have the
damn infection to worry about.

Emily pulled him even closer.

“Court is a definite option. It is also expensive, time
consuming and puts everything out in front of the public.”

“The media.” He shut his eyes.

Emily pulled his hand. “Ivan, not the media,” she gasped.

Publicity was a double-sided monster. On one side they
wanted it, and the other, they didn’t. How did the simple letter and tossing
the guy some cash turn into such a mess? He bent down and cocked the phone for
them both to hear. “James, what about the mediation?”

“Mediation involves sitting down with an arbitrator. It would
be my hope that we could move through everything quickly and it is not nearly
as media worthy as a trial and...”

“No media!” Emily shouted. “We have to keep the story out of
the media.”

“Okay.” Ivan nearly dropped the phone. After steadying them
both, he took a breath. “I think we need to opt for the mediation.”

Though he didn’t want to play nice with the jerk, they had
no other options. Everyone already acted as if they’d committed a crime, but
weren’t they innocent until proven guilty?

“I think that’s wise. I’ll call you back when I hear
something.”

He hung up and Emily leaned in, and in a move she only made
in extreme distress, hid her face in his chest. “It’s going to be okay.”

She shook her head.

“Emily.” He glanced in the back and caught sight of Billy
hunched over in the typical tattoo artist position with a customer. Funny how
the man who created the disaster got to do his work, create his art, and left
the worry to them.

“I’m not going to be able to breathe until I hear.” She
lifted her face to his. No arguments, no words, she only searched his eyes in
hopes that he’d make it all better.

Neither of them would be able to solve the situation. Rather
than dealing with Billy, he needed to tend to what was really important. “Come
on, we need to get out of here.” Either that or he’d have another lawsuit on
his hands when he finally dealt Billy some true justice.

~~*~~

Emily took her seat behind him, and Ivan threw on his
helmet. Before he started the bike, he shut his eyes, taking a moment to calm
before he careened down the street with Emily.

Neither of them spoke. They needed no words. Nothing could
make the legal situation better or worse. Their only option was to wait and
hope James would call with the news soon.

In times like these the seconds stretched, became distorted
in a sick, flu-like, suspended animation. They needed to ride out the illness,
literally. After his mother died they spent hours upon hours in his beat up
Mustang, driving wherever. Emily always understood. In the person Shane dubbed
his annoying little sister, Ivan found a true friend. She always wanted to be
part of the older group, and he took her under his wing as his little mascot.

They were drawn to the bike during the extremes of life,
both good and bad, whenever they needed a little intermission to heal. Maybe
the air, the open space, and the freedom acted as an elixir for a select few
like he and Emily.

Beachwood Canyon was their normal haunt. A quiet retreat
from Hollywood, but still close enough feel the energy of their special city.

With the adrenaline still speeding through his veins and
racing way over the legal speed limit, he pounded his fist on the handlebar.
Every aspect of his life was in complete disarray—his job, his friends, his
girl, well, his sex life.

“Ride it out.” Emily tapped him.

Without speaking, he peeked at her over his shoulder.

“Let’s do something different and go fast.” She scooted
closer to him, wrapping her arms around his waist.

Yes, they always had a connection, even when he considered
her nothing but his and Shane’s little tagalong. “Then hold on.” His phone
vibrated the second they rolled out of the driveway. He ignored the nuisance
and took off.

He rode toward the canyons, but not Beachwood. Nothing
familiar or routine, they needed something else, a different vibe to be a reset
button, so he headed to Laurel Canyon.

The midday handed them the perfect opportunity to take on
the turns without dealing with morning or evening rush hour traffic. The deep
pound of vintage heavy metal music throbbed in their ears, blocking out the
rest of the world. Only him, Emily, and the bike existed.

She spread her legs a little wider, scooting up and
encompassing him.

With nothing in his way, he sped up and guided the bike
around a deep bend.

“Faster.” Her breathless voice came through the speaker in
his helmet.

He let the bike loose. The mountain pass blurred past them,
the houses, the trees, the rocks became nothing but smudges of color.

She twisted his hair around one hand and held on to his
waist with the other. Her breasts pressed against his back. The cool air
hardened her nipples and they grazed against him through the thin fabric of his
shirt. “A little more,” she shouted

He pushed the bike to the limit. Not knowing how long he
could keep up the speed, he held his breath.

In unison they leaned into every curve. Their bodies melded
together, acting as one unit.

His heart pounded, the end of the canyon near, but not quite
yet. They still had a bit further to go. As if they shared the same thoughts,
she tightened her hold, squeezing her thighs around him. Her muscles flexed,
drawing him closer.

“Em, you with me?” His voice came out low and labored.

“Come on, we’re almost there.”

Every inch of his body vibrated with the road, with
unfulfilled need, with Emily edging him on. He gave the bike one last shift
into high gear and his heartbeat quickened, preparing for the end.

“Oh, yeah!” Instinct took over, the road and the bike roared
as they came down off the hill, but he needed more.

When at last they reached the bottom, she didn’t loosen her
grip.

He practically skidded to a stop in the parking lot behind a
small strip mall, tore off his helmet and twisted around to face her.

She removed her helmet. Her breasts heaved with her inhales
and exhales, her cheeks full of color that only an exceptional ride could give
her. “Oh, God.”

He couldn’t resist. He curled his arm around her and pulled
her in for a kiss. Not wanting to wait to be satiated, he instantly opened his
mouth and searched out her tongue with his own.

She gasped, but managed to keep up with him.

He tangled her hand in her hair and connected theirs mouths
again, but she put her fingers to his lips. “Em?” If he had his way he would
bend her over his bike and take care both their desires, that’s how they
rolled, they filled that need in one another.

“That ride was incredible.”

Incredible? If he smoked he would have needed a cigarette.
“Yeah.” Again his phone vibrated, but he ignored it. Nothing would ruin the
high for him, for them. Their life should be arousal and satisfaction, not
burdens and lawsuits.

“Do you feel better?” She pushed his hair away from his
eyes, touched his earring and her fingers worked their way down his jaw line.

“Do you want to take a walk?”

“Yeah, it’s not that often we get to come to the valley.”
Rather than taking his hand, she balanced on his shoulder, got off the bike and
instantly went to scratch her side.

“We can’t have you wrecking my art.” He pulled her hand away
from the healing tattoo and intertwined his fingers with hers. Since she’d
kissed him after her date with another man, his thoughts seemed to focus on
Emily, beyond the fact that he’d lost his bedmate. He wanted to shield her from
all the crap. “Come on let’s go see what Ventura Boulevard has to offer.”

While Hollywood, Sunset, and Rodeo personified Hollywood and
Beverly Hills, the San Fernando Valley boasted Ventura Boulevard with its
little shops and malls. They strolled down the block in the Studio City area,
an arty, ritzy little town named after its closeness to the studios.