Ian looked at it, then back at me. My heart thumped. I gave a little nod, then bit my lip as Ian walked over to the chair. He sat down, his hands on the smooth, carved arms. God, he looked good there! As if reading my mind, he smiled, and my heart lurched toward him.

“Come here,” he said, and I obeyed, sitting on Ian’s lap. The chair didn’t protest, having been made by the master, and Ian slid his arms around me, rocking gently, his cheek against my neck, against my throbbing pulse. We just sat like that for a long moment, wrapped around each other in the Morelock chair, my fingers smoothing Ian’s soft blond hair, tracing the lines that fanned out around his eyes. Then Ian’s hand moved up, and he unbuttoned my shirt slowly, kissing the exposed skin. My hands went to the thick, hard muscles of his shoulders, that sweet, melting feeling spreading through me as he slowly pushed my shirt off my shoulders, his fingers tracing the lace of my bra. When our lips met, the mood changed, suddenly hot and urgent and hungry. Ian scooped me up and stood, the chair gliding silently as he rose and carried me to bed, the moonlight pure and bright and perfect, the only noise from the wind and the two of us, together, the soft and gentle sounds of two people falling in love.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

“GOOD MORNING,” IAN said the next day as I staggered into the kitchen. My legs were still a little weak from all that happiness. Bowie crooned me a morning song, and I petted his big furry head.

“Hi,” I said to both my guys.

“Would you like some coffee?” he asked, already opening a cupboard for a mug from the mishmash selection therein.

“Sure,” I answered.

“Last night was incredible.” He smiled at me, and my heart practically rolled over onto its back, like Bowie offering himself up.

“Yes, it was,” I said, grinning back.

Ian poured me some joe, then added cream and sugar. “Even though you’re already so sweet,” he said, stirring the coffee.

“Oh, my God. Are you flirting?” I asked.

“This is what I get for trying,” he grumbled. But his eyes were happy.

Just then his cell phone rang. Ian glanced at the screen. His face froze. Laura? I wondered. We hadn’t talked about her since the wedding… He picked up the receiver. “Hi, Jane.”

I went on full alert. Could it be his aunt?

“I’m fine, and you?” Ian said, not looking at me. “Okay. Great. Sure. Seven o’clock. Do you need directions? Okay. See you then.” He closed his phone and stared at the counter for a second. I waited, not saying anything. My patience was rewarded.

“That was my aunt,” he said. “She’s in Boston and wants to come up and have dinner tonight.”

“Great,” I said, nodding. “Is Alejandro coming?” I couldn’t resist saying that with a full-blown Spanish accent, and Ian gave a little smile.

“No, just Jane.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, his smile fading. “Would you like to meet her?” he asked.

“Yes! Absolutely!” I said. “Want me to cook?”

“No, no. That’s fine. I’ll pick something up.”

“Ian, you can’t give her dinner from some store. Would she rather eat out? We could go to Elements. Dave would treat us like royalty.”

“She doesn’t believe in restaurants. Too much waste.”

“Oh. Well, then I’ll cook. I’d be happy to, okay?”

He took a deep breath. “Callie,” he said slowly. “I know you’re going to try to make a good impression and do your thing—”

“My thing?” I asked.

“Make her your new best friend.”

I snorted. “Ian, I don’t try…people just like me. Because I’m so nice, remember?”

“I do. But she won’t like you.”

That gave me pause. “Why?”

He squinted. “She’s…a very passionate person, and…well, she doesn’t really approve of me, and she’ll think you’re…uh…” He winced.

“Okay, forget me for a second. How can she not approve of you?” I asked. “You’re her nephew, her brother’s boy. I’ll bet she adores you.”

He took a sip of his coffee. “She wanted me to become a doctor, and the fact that I didn’t is tough for her.”

“Well, I’m sure she’s very proud of you anyway, Ian,” I said, giving him a hug. “You’re so smart! And so handsome! And you have all those special skills, like making dogs love you and killing people with your little finger—”

“You’re babbling,” he said, but there was a smile in his voice.

“Well, whatever the case may be, I’ll make dinner, okay? Give me your key, and I’ll come over and get everything ready, and it will be wonderful. Is she a vegetarian?”

“Vegan, I’m afraid.”

“So tofu it is. I can do tofu.” I kissed him on the cheek. “Don’t worry. We’ll have fun.”

TWELVE HOURS LATER, we were not having fun.

My first impression had been good—I watched as Ian greeted his aunt on the driveway, giving her a hug, which she returned. She held his face in her hands and smiled hugely…the Look how you’ve grown thing I did on an almost daily basis with Bronte and Josephine. See? I mentally told my honey. She’s crazy about you.

And then they came in, and the impression started to head south.

“Jane, this is Callie Grey,” Ian said. “Callie, my aunt Jane.”

“I wasn’t aware you were seeing anyone, Ian,” his aunt said, glancing at him as if startled.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Dr. McFarland,” I said, smiling. She was small and very lean, pleasant face, gray hair, somewhere in her late sixties. “Ian’s told me a lot about you.”

“Mmm,” she said. She wandered into the great room, taking a look around. “So, Ian, this is your home. My, my. Very…expensive-looking.”

Okay…a veiled compliment at best.

“Would you like some wine, Jane?” Ian asked.

“I’d love some,” she said, not looking up from her perusal of his bookcase. “What is that strange smell?”

I bit my lip. “Um…dinner?”

“Ah. And what are we having?”

I brightened, sure my dinner would impress. “Well, I made sure everything was vegan, since Ian said you were—”

“Not anymore, actually,” she said, taking her wine from her nephew. “Too difficult, given where I’m living. Côte d’Ivoire. There’s just not enough agriculture in the area, so I’ve been eating eggs and dairy.”

“Oh,” I said. “Okay, well, we’re eating vegan tonight. Beet ravioli with a fava bean sauce, sweet and sour cauliflower…” Nothing that a human would willingly eat, in other words “…and, um…a salad. And chocolate cake.”

“Sounds like we could feed an entire African village with that,” she murmured.

“Here you go, Callie.” Ian handed me a glass of wine. His face was neutral.

“So! Ian! Tell me how things are with you,” Jane said, settling on the couch and ignoring the guacamole I’d made.

“Things are good,” he said, sitting across from her.

“Any plans to finish your education?” She smiled brightly.

Ian glanced at me. “I did a year of med school before switching to the vet program,” he explained. “No, Jane. No plans to go back.”

She shook her head. “That’s such a shame,” she said. “Cassie, let me ask you. If you could choose between healing sick children or treating an overbred golden retriever, which would you pick?”

Youch! I set my own wineglass on the coffee table. “Actually, my name is Callie,” I corrected, glancing at Ian. “And I’d choose the profession I really loved, I guess.”

“Mmm,” she said. “And what is it that you do, Callie, is it?”

“Yes. Short for Calliope. I’m the creative director at an advertising agency.”

“Do you find that rewarding? Getting American consumers to buy more…stuff?” She raised an eyebrow.

I paused. “Well, I do, actually. I love my job.”

“Mmm.”

Now, not to toot my own horn, but the number of people who didn’t like me were…well, Muriel and now Jane McFarland. If Muriel and I had met without both loving the same guy, things might’ve been different. We both loved shoes, after all, the basis of many a female friendship. But Jane…she was tough.

“So Ian told me you don’t get back to the States too often,” I offered. Angie came over and sat faithfully next to me.

“That’s right. Too much to do, too little time, too little money to fund the programs that could save lives. It’s a shame.” She looked around the room. “The cost of your dog alone, Ian, would’ve probably fed a family for a year.”

“I didn’t pay for Angie. She’s a rescue,” he said. “As is Callie’s dog.” He glanced at me with a little smile.

“You rescued Angie?” I asked.

He nodded. “Her first owner abused her.”

“You poor thing,” I said to the pretty dog. She wagged her tail. Jane didn’t comment.

“How’s Alé?” Ian asked. “I haven’t talked to him in a few weeks.”

“He’s wonderful.” Jane turned to me. “My son, Cassie, is a doctor in a small village in Honduras. You should visit, Ian.”

“I’m planning to,” he answered. I looked at him, but he didn’t elaborate. Then he said a few lines in rapid-fire Spanish—it was strange, hearing him burst into another language just like that. Jane answered, and then Ian said something else. I didn’t catch anything (the only Spanish I knew was from watching Sesame Street when Josephine was little, and since Ian and Jane didn’t seem to be counting to ten, I was lost). I did get one word, however…Callie. I hoped Ian was setting her straight on my name.

“Sorry,” he murmured to me when they were done.

“Ian, how’s…what’s-her-name…Laura?” Dr. McFarland asked.

“She’s fine,” Ian answered. He hesitated, then said, “She got married a few weeks ago.”

“Well, I hope you learned something. Don’t go rushing into anything. Marriage ties you down. Limits your options. And in case you did finally have a change of heart, you’d be able to finish medical school, no strings attached.” She gave me a look, making it clear just who the strings were.

“I don’t see a change of heart in the future, Jane,” Ian said.

“Never say never.”

“Were you ever married, Dr. McFarland?” I asked, hoping to shift gears a little.

She looked at me as if just remembering I was there, then took a sip of wine. “Very briefly.”

Okay. This was indeed a challenge. “So,” I offered, groping for a more neutral topic. “Ian told me you met Bono.”

Jane raised an eyebrow. “Yes. Why? Do you want tickets to a concert?”

“Can you get me some?” I returned instantly. No smile from either McFarland. Okay. No jokes, then. “Just kidding,” I muttered. “It’s just that he’s very…um…famous.”

Ian’s cell bleated softly. “Excuse me. I’m on call,” he said, checking his phone as he walked to the den, shutting the door behind him. Maybe he’d arranged for Carmella to call him…God knows I would have.

I eyed Ian’s relative a bit warily. “I really admire what you do, Dr. McFarland,” I said, hoping we could bond with Ian out of the room.

“No need,” she said, waving her hand.

“Um…no need for what?”

“No need to stroke my ego.” My mouth opened, but she kept talking. “Listen. I’m sure you’re very…adorable and whatnot, but if you’re looking for my blessing, you won’t get it. I still have high hopes for Ian, despite his…choices…thus far. He’s not meant to be a vet. He’s certainly smart enough to be a physician. So you’ll have to forgive me if I want more for him, Cassie. He has a destiny.”

“It’s Callie,” I said, a bit tightly. “As in Calliope, Homer’s muse. Just to clarify.”

“Mmm.”

I took a breath. “Were you and your brother close?” I asked, figuring a change in subject couldn’t hurt.

She gave me an assessing look. “We were close as children. As adults, not so much.”

“It must’ve been hard, taking in a little boy when—”

“It wasn’t hard at all, Callie. Ian was no bother, and Alejandro, my son—” I know who he is, lady, I wanted to say, but held my tongue “—was already nearly grown. Ian just came along and never made a peep.”

I was well able to picture Ian as a kid, not making a peep, lonely and scared after his parents died, leaving behind everything he knew. My throat tightened.

Jane sighed and took another sip of wine. “Who could believe that after all I showed him he’d end up…here?”

I glanced at the closed door to the den. “Dr. McFarland,” I said carefully, “after losing his parents and, um…moving so much as a kid, maybe Ian just wants a normal life. And just because he didn’t become a doctor doesn’t mean he’s a bad person. He—”

“Dear, I don’t need a lecture on my nephew from someone he met, what…a month ago? Two?”