Heart-Shaped Hack (7 page)

“While I appreciate your being the polar opposite of Kent, I’m afraid I’m not very hungry.”

“I wish I’d known about brunch. Not having access to your computer means I have no idea what you’re up to these days. However, I want this to count as an actual date—our second, I might add—and not just a quick outing in the park.”

She laughed. “I suppose that will be okay. I wouldn’t want to throw off your schedule.”

He took a drink of his champagne. “How has your weekend been so far?”

“Good.”

“Do anything fun?”

“I met some friends for happy hour on Friday, and then I had a date on Saturday.”

“You had a date?”

“You sound so surprised. A man actually messaged me on my dating account, despite my less-than-attractive profile picture. He read my bio and asked me out. I had to say yes. He did seem a bit confused when I showed up.”

“That’s because he’d just hit the online dating jackpot. Where did you go?”

“Lunch and a matinee.”

“And?”

“I had a good time. He was very nice.” That much was true. Justin had been courteous, funny, and kind. He was also Stuart 2.0, and Kate had felt nothing. Not one single spark. She let him down gently with a handshake at the end of their date.

“I bet he wasn’t as charming as me.”

“Do you know who else was supposedly very charming? Ted Bundy.”

“I may be a thief, but I would never harm you, Katie.” He said it so softly and sincerely that the quip she’d been about to make about Ted Bundy promising the same thing died on her lips.

“No,” she said. “He was not as charming as you.”

When Kate’s glass was empty, he took it, and Kate thought he meant to refill it. But he set down the empty flutes, caught her chin between his thumb and index finger, and tilted her face up to his for a champagne-flavored kiss, closing his eyes right before their lips met. Though they were in a clearing off the main path, it was still a public place where anyone could come upon them. Kate didn’t care. She kissed him back and ran her fingers through his hair because she’d wanted to do that since the day she met him. It felt soft and luxurious.

“You really know how to turn an average Sunday into a great day, don’t you?” Kate said when they came up for air.

Ian reached for the champagne bottle and refilled their glasses. “Are you having a great day?”

“I am. When I was at brunch, the girls were complaining about having to spend the rest of the afternoon cooped up inside working, the same way I used to. But instead of working, I get to stroll the sunlit paths of a magical urban forest and drink champagne with a charismatic, green-eyed man.”

Ian smiled. “And to think I had to convince you to give me a chance.”

“Astonishing, I know.”

“And now?” He paused in front of Kate’s mouth with another strawberry.

“You’re growing on me,” she said and opened her mouth.

Kate insisted on feeding Ian a strawberry every time he fed her one until finally they were gone. There was more kissing and even fewer inhibitions on Kate’s part when the flutes were empty again. Ian was currently giving Kate a kiss that she’d labeled the number three because it resembled the third kiss he’d given her at the end of their first date. It was a little more demanding than the others, but still slightly restrained. It hinted at what his kisses might be like if he were to stop exerting control over them. That thought made Kate’s stomach explode with butterflies.

Drowsy from the champagne, Ian lay down on the blanket and coaxed Kate into lying down beside him and using his arm for a pillow, which she did. The sun was bright and Kate hadn’t brought her sunglasses, so she closed her eyes. She wished she could take a nap right there on the blanket with Ian.

“I’m so comfortable,” she announced.

“My arm is asleep,” Ian said.

Kate immediately tried to move, but Ian laughed and encircled her with his other arm so that he was spooning her. “I’m just messing with you.”

“Stop spooning me,” Kate said, rolling over to face him. “This is a public park.”

“How is this any more appropriate?” Ian asked, pulling her closer so they were pressed up against each other.

“It really isn’t,” Kate admitted.

“Kiss me.”

Kate obliged willingly and then tucked her head against his neck. “You sure seem to enjoy kissing.”

“What’s not to like?”

“Nothing. I love kissing. I’m just not used to it. Stuart wasn’t really a kisser. It was mostly a means to an end for him.”

“Stuart is nuts.”

Kate looked into his eyes. “Are you ever going to tell me your last name?”

“No,” he said. His tone was quite serious. Then he kissed her again.

Around four o’clock, when the temperature had started to drop a little and the sun went behind the clouds and stayed there, Kate started to shiver. Her hands were getting cold, and they decided to call it a day.

“Ready?” Ian said.

He held out his arm and Kate took it.

When Ian pulled up in front of Kate’s building, he turned off the car, and she waited for him to come around and open her door.

“Would you like to come in?” Kate asked.

“I have to. It’s our second date. You can give me the grand tour since you barely let me inside last time. And don’t worry, I won’t overstay my welcome. A project I’m working on for one of my clients has monopolized my entire weekend, and I’m still not done.”

Once they were inside, Kate showed Ian around. Her one-bedroom apartment was tiny in comparison to the pricier, two-bedroom apartment she’d lived in for three years with Stuart, but she loved it. She’d picked out the furniture by herself, purchasing a couch that had an attached chaise, a soft oversized chair, and a plush, brightly colored fake-fur rug that gave her living room a funky, comfortable feel.

“Very nice,” Ian said.

They sat down on the couch.

“You know, this refusal to tell me your last name is making things awkward for me,” Kate said. “At brunch I had to refer to you as Ian Smith.”

“Smith?” he said with mock indignation. “Is that the best you could come up with? Why not just call me Ian Doe?”

“You were almost Ian Spoon because that’s what I happened to be holding in my hand when the question came up. The girls probably think I’ve resorted to inventing imaginary suitors to help me get past my breakup with Stuart.”

“Could an imaginary suitor do this?” Ian asked, giving Kate what she decided to dub the number six, which was deep, openmouthed kissing with tongue while cradling her face after he’d pulled her onto his lap.

“Good God, your eyes are crossed,” Ian said when it was over.

She held her finger to his lips. “Shhhh… no one likes a braggart.”

He smiled and bit it gently. Kate liked being held on Ian’s lap, so she stayed where she was. Ian, no slouch in the proximity-awareness department, leaned in again. This time he brushed aside the tendrils of hair that had escaped her French twist and gave her a series of soft kisses that started below her ear and continued down her neck. Kate leaned her head back against the couch to give him better access, which he took full advantage of by turning the kissing into the most erotic nibbling. If she wasn’t careful, Ian might try to kiss her right into bed, and she wasn’t ready for that yet. Reluctantly, she climbed off his lap.

“Where are you going?”

“No one likes a braggart, but no one likes a tease either.”

Ian grudgingly announced that he needed to go. “I would rather stay and kiss you some more and then take you to dinner, but I really must get back to my project.”

“That’s okay. I’m still stuffed full of strawberries.” She walked him to the door.

“Are you free Friday night? Around six thirty? I’d like for us to go on our third date. And you know what that means.”

“I do happen to be available, and I’m well aware of what
sometimes
happens on the third date. But for your information, we’re not quite there yet.”

“We’re not?”

“No.”

“Are you sure? Because I feel like we could be.”

Kate pretended to think about it. “Positive.”

“That’s okay. I’ll be happy as long as I can still kiss you. I’m really very patient, Katie.” He kissed her again—deep, lingering—as if to show her just how much he enjoyed it.

Before he turned to go he said, “So are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Past your breakup with Stuart?”

Kate knew she was more than likely just something for Ian to play with. A girl to rile up, an interesting diversion at best. By his own admission, he didn’t stick around in any city for very long. But she was glad he’d asked, because it was the first indication he’d given her that he possessed any vulnerability at all. Very few men wanted to get involved with a woman only to watch her return to her old boyfriend because she still harbored feelings for him.

“Yes, Ian Smith. I can assure you that I am.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Someone was banging on the door. Kate buried her head under the pile of blankets on the couch and prayed they’d go away. She’d started feeling sick after she got home from the food pantry on Thursday and had spent the rest of the afternoon and evening on the couch coughing. Things had taken a decidedly worse turn overnight, and she’d been awake—and miserable—since around three that morning. In an attempt to ease the tightness in her lungs, she’d taken a long, steamy shower at four, but it hadn’t helped much.

The knocking became banging. Slowly she made her way toward the door, zigzagging dizzily across the room. “What?” she croaked.

“It’s Ian. Open up.”

She managed to get the door open but felt light-headed and reached for the doorjamb to steady herself. She missed it completely and pitched forward into the hallway. Ian caught her with a soft oomph, swung her up in his arms, and kicked the door shut with his foot. She laid her cheek against his chest.

“You’re sizzling, sweetness. I can feel the heat through my shirt. When’s the last time you took something for that fever?” He laid her down gently on the couch.

“What time is it?”

“A little after nine.”

“Five maybe? I’ve been counting the minutes until I could take more Motrin. I think I can have another dose now.”

She started to sit up, but Ian gently eased her back down. “I’ll get it. You stay here.”

That sounded like a fabulous idea to Kate. Horizontal felt marginally less wretched than vertical. “It’s on the kitchen counter.”

Ian returned with a tall glass of ice water and some Motrin. Kate was suddenly thirstier than she could remember being in a very long time. Ian put his arm behind her shoulders and helped her rise to a sitting position. After she swallowed the pills, she drained the glass and said, “I’m a level-five biohazard. You should get out now while you still can.”

“That’s ridiculous,” he said. “I’m impervious to germs. I rarely get sick.”

“No kissing,” she said as she fired off three giant sneezes that made her eyes water and her nose run. “I’m a mess, and I do not feel pretty.”

He plucked a Kleenex from the box on the coffee table and handed it to her. “Fair enough.”

“Why are you here? Our date wasn’t until this evening.” Because she had no way to get ahold of him, she’d planned on canceling when he showed up at her door and witnessed for himself the condition she was in.

“I went to the food pantry to make sure we were still on for tonight, and Helena told me you called in sick.”

“If we communicated by phone like normal people, you could have saved yourself a trip,” she said and then became engulfed by a coughing attack so violent it sent daggers of pain shooting through her chest and head.

“This is not a wasted trip. Tell me what you need.”

In addition to the pile of blankets she’d wrapped herself in, Kate was wearing the flannel pajamas Ian had bought her and a pair of slippers, but she still couldn’t get warm. “I’m freezing. Can you get the comforter from my bed?”

Ian retrieved the comforter and tucked it around her shoulders and under her legs. Then he sat down next to her. “Lay your head in my lap.”

Kate did as he said. She didn’t care that she wasn’t wearing makeup or that her hair was still damp from her shower and drying in a mess of tangles. She was more miserable than she could remember being in a long time.

She closed her eyes as Ian lightly stroked her head. “That feels good.”

When the Motrin kicked in, her shivering subsided, but she felt weary clear down to her bones.

“Sleep, Katie,” Ian said, and there was nothing Kate wanted to do more.

When she woke up three hours later, he was still there. There was a fire burning in the fireplace, and he was sitting on the chaise end of the couch, typing on a laptop. She poked him with her foot.

He stopped typing, looked over, and smiled. “How’s my patient?”

Kate still felt awful, but she said, “Okay.”

“You don’t sound okay,” he said. “You sound miserable.”

“I feel a little better than when you arrived. I think the nap helped.” Kate’s voice was so raspy Ian had to lean in to hear her. “Did you leave?”

“Only for a short while. I ran home to get my laptop. I figured I could work and keep an eye on you at the same time.”

“Do you live far from here?”

“I live downtown. I also dropped by the pharmacy because you were almost out of Motrin and the only other medicine I found in your kitchen was a half-empty bottle of NyQuil that expired two years ago. I wasn’t exactly sure what you needed. Usually I turn to the Internet for answers, but in this case I decided a pharmacist would be my best bet.”

“You spoke to a pharmacist?”

“Yes. He said you’re more than likely suffering from a viral upper respiratory illness but warned me that I should take you to the doctor if your condition worsens or you have trouble breathing. Are you having trouble breathing?”

“Not at the moment.”

“Good. He also hooked me up with everything you could possibly need. It looks like a Walgreens exploded in your kitchen.”

Ian was wearing a sweatshirt and well-worn jeans, and he’d kicked off his shoes. She liked the way he looked stretched out on the chaise: comfortable, like he planned on staying a while.