Page 11 of Single Man Meets Single Mom

Cassie would probably die before she asked for help with the zipper, so he didn’t offer. And she didn’t have any trouble. As the dress slid down her body, Ian’s knees nearly buckled.

Lush didn’t even begin to describe her. Her full breasts, rounded belly and the slight flare of her hips were a lethal combination.

“As I was saying,” he went on, cursing his voice when it cracked like that of an adolescent. “I realize that neither of us was prepared for the instant physical attraction—”

“You’re delusional,” she muttered as she tugged her jeans up over her hips and matching bikini panties.

“But just because I find you sexy as hell doesn’t mean I can’t control myself.”

Her hands froze on her back as she fastened her bra. Apparently his words had struck a chord. She glanced up and caught his gaze in the reflection. Busted.

“Seriously?” she asked with a half laugh. “Why did you even turn around?”

“I didn’t know the window was there.” That was the truth.

“And you weren’t going to say anything?”

Ian spun around—no point in being subtle now. “I’m a guy. What do you think?”

Rolling her eyes, Cassie shrugged into her shirt and buttoned it up with jerky, hurried motions.

Fighting the urge to cross the room and undress her again, Ian slid his hands into his pockets and met her gaze.

“You are stunning,” he told her, suddenly feeling the need to drive that point home. “I’m not sure why that statement caught you off guard.”

Most women in Hollywood would pause at such a comment, try to deny it in order to hear more pretty words in a vain attempt to boost their own egos, but Ian knew Cassie was different. She truly didn’t believe she was beautiful, and he had a feeling all that insecurity circled back to whatever the basis was for her vulnerability.

Damn, he didn’t have time to delve into distressed damsels. But there was a desire in him, something primal, almost possessive that made him want to dig deeper, to uncover more of Cassie Barrington. And not just physically.

That revelation alone scared the hell out of him.

“I don’t need to be charmed, Ian.” She propped her hands on her hips. “We’re stuck up here and lying or trying to make me want you isn’t going to work.”

“I don’t lie, Cassie.” When she quirked a brow, he merely shrugged. “I find you sexy. Any man would be insane or blind not to.”

Cassie shook her head. After zipping the dress into a white garment bag, she headed over to a storage box and popped off the lid. She flopped down on the floor, crossing her legs and offering him the view of her back.

He waited for her to say something, but she seemed to have dismissed him or was so wrapped up in the memories of the photos she was pulling out, she just didn’t care that he was there.

“You ever look at a picture and remember that moment so well, you can actually feel it?” she asked, her soft voice carrying across the room.

Ian took that as his invitation to join her. He closed the distance between them, taking a seat directly beside her. Cassie held a picture. A young girl, he presumed it was her, sat atop a horse, and a dark-haired beauty, who he assumed was her mother, held the lead line.

“That was my first horse,” she told him, her eyes still on the picture. “I’d always ridden with Dad and helped him around the stables, but this one was all mine. I’d picked him out at auction and Mom and Dad told me I had to care for him all by myself.”

Ian looked at the image of a young Cassie. “How old were you?”

“Eight. But I knew as soon as I saw him that I’d want him. He was skittish and shied away from the men, but when I approached him, against my father’s advice, he came right to me and actually nuzzled my neck.”

Ian listened to her, refusing to let himself fall into her sea of emotions. He’d noticed her and Tessa holding hands at the shoot, tears swimming in both of their eyes.

“I’ve never ridden a horse,” he admitted.

Cassie dropped the picture back into the bin and turned to stare at him. “Seriously? We’ll have to rectify that while you’re here.”

Ian laughed. “I wasn’t asking for an invitation. Just stating a fact.”

She turned a bit more to face him, her thigh rubbing against his. Did she have a clue that she was playing with fire? She may be older than him, but something told him she wasn’t necessarily more experienced.

Arrogance had him believing they weren’t on a level playing field. He had plenty he wanted to show her.

“I love teaching people how to ride,” she went on, oblivious to his thoughts. “It’s such an exhilarating experience.”

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