Chapter 17

Ian.  Ophelia groaned sourly.  Noah raised his eyebrows at her.  “That the blind man?” he asked in a teasing tone.  Before she could answer, Joey’s head poked his nose through Tandy’s legs, giving the she-male a jolt of surprise.  The canine sniffed Tandy like he couldn’t figure out what he/she was.  No bombshells there.  Most humans couldn’t figure out Tandy. 

“Easy, boy,” Ian’s low murmur brought everyone’s attention to him.  He smiled into the cluster of people around him.  “Am I intruding?”

Realizing that the words sounded very rude indeed, Ophelia still burst out, “What are you doing here?”  Tandy frowned disapprovingly at her, and Noah looked at her like he’d never seen her before.  One thing Ophelia usually wasn’t was impolite…with the exception of Noah and Tiki, but they were used to it.

Ian, showing no sign of discomfort, said, “Mira had to stop off at the coffee shop and I thought I’d visit for a sec.  That okay?”

Noah jerked from his slouched stance.  He darted out of the office, peered out the front windows and then raced back through the storeroom to the back door.  His hasty footsteps pounded up the stairs to his apartment.  “What’s his problem?” Tandy asked, following Noah’s clamor through the ceiling with his/her eyes.

Ophelia had enough tribulations facing Ian for the second time that day without wondering about her cousin.  Noah was strange.  That’s his problem.  “Thanks, Tandy,” she said, dismissing her employee.  Tandy disappeared and went back into the store.

“What can I do for you, Ian?” she asked, shuffling papers around on her desk and avoiding his blind gaze.

“Now, that's a stimulating question, if I ever heard one,” he replied, entering the room.  His roving hand met with the empty chair in front of her desk and he sat down.

“I'm not in the mood for games right now.”

“I can sense that,” he said, smiling anyway.  “And yes, there is something you can do for me.  I have a problem, and I was hoping you'd help me out.”

She glanced at him.  He allowed Joey to rest on the floor beside him, and his long legs were crossed, one ankle resting on the other knee as he crossed his muscular arms across that expansive chest of his.  Did he have to look so magnetic and enthralling just sitting there?

“I'm listening,” she said, “but I make no promises.”

His beautiful lips twitched.  “As you know, I have that exhibit in a few weeks, and I need to get my last sculptures finished, but I've encountered a hang-up.”

“And you think I can help you with that?”

He nodded, grinning mischievously.  “Oh, yes...you're the only person who can.”

Ophelia tossed aside the pen she'd been absentmindedly fiddling with and leaned back to study him.  She felt certain this was another one of his ploys to get her to date him, but instead of being irritated, she was intrigued.  When was the last time a man needed her for something other than sex or to do his laundry?

“Alright, you've got me interested,” she admitted.  “What do you need from me?”

“You're body,” he said innocently, and her eyes closed of their own violation.  Surely, he didn't just say...

“I beg your pardon?”

Continuing to grin, he explained, “My show centers around the female body--”

Of course, it did.

“-- and to keep it from getting too pornographic in nature, I'm incorporating the beauty of a woman's mind and soul into the project,” he went on.  “I've been struggling with the last pieces for a while...until I met you...and your lucky coin.”

“So, you need me to do what exactly?”  If he so much as mentions a nude sculpture of herself, he was out of here.

“Well, I'm inspired to do a series of wall carvings in the form of giant coins...specifically the bust of a woman in relief on the surface...and I want you to model for me,” he said.

“Model for you?”

He nodded vigorously.  “Yes, you fascinate me.  Your smell, your voice, the way your feet walk across a room...to my dark mind, you're beautiful, and I want to portray that.”

Confused because she didn't have a creative bone in her body and didn't know the first thing about carving into wood, she asked, “How on earth could you do all that?  A statue can't talk, so how would anyone else know how my voice sounds just by looking at a wooden coin?”

Ian sat there, not at all put off by her insinuation that, talented or not, he'd not be able to demonstrate all those...qualities...about herself through art.  “Oh, trust me...when it comes to a woman's body, I know exactly what I'm doing.”

I bet he does, she thought, taking in those lean fingers, broad shoulders and sensual lips.  From the start, he'd been knocking her helter-skelter, not taking her no for a straight answer, and the tiny vengeful part of her brain wanted to retaliate cruelly.  “So, you want me to model for you?  You realize you can't see me, right?”

His reaction wasn't what she expected.  No irritated frown, no embarrassed flush, no adverse effects to his expression at all.  He actually grinned wider at her.  “I don't plan on using my eyes, sugar.”

“And I don't plan on letting you paw me,” she retorted hotly.

He laughed.  Ian tossed back his dark head and laughed at her.  Really, could this day get any more rotten.  “I'm serious,” she said.  “I told you I don't want to date, and now you're using this art exhibit excuse as a way to get your hands on me.  It won't work.  Find someone else.”

He withdrew his sunglasses and wiped away tears of mirth from the corners of his amazing eyes.  “Oh, Ophelia...you are a tenacious little thing, aren't you?”

Little?  Ophelia looked down at her opulent curves.  Granted, she didn't meet the average height standards for a woman her age, but little?  “I think we're getting off the subject,” she said, clearing her throat and refusing to back down.

“Alright,” he continued, fitting his glasses back on his nose.  Ophelia wanted to sigh with disappointment.  She really did enjoy looking into those crystalline depths.  “Then a business agreement,” he said.  “I'll hire you to model for me.  My agent can pull up the standard contract, and we'll never be alone while working.”

And he dared to comment on her tenacity.  Didn't he ever give up?  “What kind of contract?” she asked, narrowing her eyes suspiciously at him.

He shrugged his gorgeous shoulders.  “Just the standard contract,” he repeated.  “We agree on a set time and number of hours, and I pay you an advance when the contract is signed, and then the rest you'll receive after the contract stipulations are fulfilled.  I can pay generously.”

“I'm sure you can,” she muttered.  As difficult as it was to believe, the thought of him touching her through a business contract seemed intriguing.  She could enjoy the feel of him without worrying about him thinking she wanted more – which she did, but she'd never tell him that.  It would be business, nothing more.

Ian patiently waited for her answer.  But before she could open her mouth to state her own stipulations, Tandy popped his/her head through the office door again and started to say, “Phe-phe, there's a man--”  Tandy didn't get any further since he/she was pushed aside and in walked Bart Masters, smiling broadly with open arms.

“Phe-phe, my girl!  Come hug your daddy!”

*****

Ian sensed an immediate change in the room.  The hairs on his neck stood on end, and Joey went into instant protective stance, hunkering down in front of his owner and emitting low growls.  Ophelia ceased to breathe.

The man that entered the room reeked of masculine cologne, dominance, and danger.  His boisterous voice held a hint of violent intensity, and Ian wanted to growl right along with his dog.  This was sweet Ophelia's father?  No wonder she was afraid of him.

“You look surprised to see me,” her father called out with a chuckle.  “I left you a message that I'd be here today.  Now come give your daddy some love, baby girl.”

Ian listened as the man crossed the room, jerked Ophelia from her chair and crushed her in a rough embrace.  Ophelia squeaked and Ian shot out of his own chair.  It was days like this he wished he carried his cane around with him at all times.  He'd like to smack the older man along his kidneys for handling Ophelia that way.

Joey's growls grew louder and more menacingly, but he stayed put.  Joey wouldn't attack unless Ian himself was in trouble or until Ian gave the command.

“Phe-phe,” the man said, “there's a dog in your office.”

Ophelia seemed to be gathering her voice.  “Um...yeah.  This is Joey and Ian,” she said, and introduced Ian to her father, “Ian, this is my...uh, father, Bart Masters.”

“Joey and Ian,” Bart Masters repeated, his voice moving away from Ophelia.  “Which one's the dog?”

Ophelia gasped.  “Daddy, don't be rude.  This is my friend, Ian Fisk, and his companion, Joey.”

Bart Masters approached Ian, grabbed at his hand and shook it fiercely.  “Nice to meet you, Ian.  You boinking my daughter?”

Ophelia gasped again, muttered, “Oh, my God,” and Ian heard her sink back into her desk chair.  Ian faced her father.  “We're just friends,” he said through clenched teeth.

The grip of the older man's hand increased before he let go.  “That's good to know.  Phe-phe's always had lousy taste in men.  It's embarrassing to think she was taking in blind men now.”

Keeping his mouth shut was the hardest thing Ian ever did.  Joey didn't have any compunction.  The dog let out a sharp bark and a series of warning growls before Ian commanded him to be quiet with a wave of his hand.

Ophelia's low voice emitted through the silence.  “Daddy, get out.  How dare you come in here and insult my friends?  I'm not a child, and I can sleep with anyone I choose.  You have no right to say those things about me or Ian.”

“Ah, Phe-phe,” her father said in a somewhat placating tone.  “I'm just looking out for your well-being.”

“Look out for it somewhere else,” she said.  Ian smiled, admiring her.  For a woman who was afraid of her father, she sure stood up to him well.

Bart Masters cleared his throat.  “Well, I just came in to say hello.  I'll be in town for a few days on some business.  Maybe we can talk when you're not in such a bad mood.”  The man left then, as loudly as he came, leaving his commanding presence behind.

Ophelia murmured to herself, “Like that'll ever happen.”  A long bout of silence followed, and Ian debated on staying and being the friend that she needed right now or leaving.  Finally, she whispered, “I'm sorry for that, Ian.  My father...well, he's not the most pleasant of men.”

“I can understand your reluctance to talk about him,” he responded.

“Yes.  I just hope he finishes his business quickly and goes back home soon.”

The way she said “business” interested him.  He asked, “What kind of business is he in?”

Ophelia sighed.  “He's supposed to be retired.  He was a bounty hunter, but most likely he's here because he’s already gone through all the available women in New York and is scoping out new prospects.”

Since she was warming up to the subject, he pursued it.  “So...your parents are divorced?”

She snorted, “Not hardly.”

“Ah, and that explains your reluctance to date me,” he said with a sad smile.  He felt her unwilling smile from across the room.  “I'm not like that, you know,” he added. 

“I know you're not,” she said with a tired tone to her words.  “But I'm not willing to take that chance.”

He heard a clear dismissal and reached down to grasp Joey's harness.  “You know where to find me if you ever do decide to take a chance.  Until then, think about my proposition.  I'd really like to use you for my art.” 

He started toward the general bookstore area, and Ophelia trailed after him.  Upon exiting the front entrance, she turned to him.  “I'll think about it, Ian, but I can't make any promises.  Not when I know you want more from me.”

He stepped closer to her.  “Do you really know what I want from you, Ophelia?”  He said her name in a caress of sound.  She didn't shy away from him like she was prone to do, and he felt optimistic about that.

She laughed gently.  “My imagination isn't lacking, Ian.”

He smiled down at her, wanting her, needing her.  “I'm sure it isn't.”  He nudged Joey to the crosswalk at the corner and made his way across the street to Mira's coffee shop.