Page 35 of Miles & Mistletoe

Chapter Nine

Stacia

We spent three and a half wonderful, blissful days at Ian’s cabin. Calling it a cabin still seemed a little ridiculous to me. Yes, it was cabin style, but it was far from roughing it by any stretch of the imagination. Anyway, while there, it seemed as if we had grown closer. Ian let me watch him as he “threw a mug” on his pottery wheel. Watching the intense expression on his face, and the strength of his hands and arms as he concentrated on forming everything just right, turned me on. While I didn’t sit on his lap and give it a try for myself like in the movie, Ghost, I was certainly primed and ready to help him wash off the clay in the shower once he’d finished.

Along with getting more acquainted with Ian’s love of art and his secret works, we spent an entire day skiing. Well, Ian spent most of the day teaching me and accompanying me on the bunny slopes as they were called, though he was far more capable and able to handle the much more intense slopes. I must say, I think I fell in love with skiing. It was definitely something I would be up for trying again. Especially, if Ian were around to help me.

And it was that last thought that made my heart sink, as I stopped at the foot of the stairs leading up to the private plane’s entrance. It was Christmas Eve and we were on our way to Dallas. Not only was that the city where Zerlinger Beers was headquartered, but it was where Ian’s brother, Bruce, lived and was hosting the business’ holiday party. But that wasn’t what had me sad as I watched Ian talking on the phone as he stood next to the town car that’d brought us to the airport.

No, my sadness was due to the fact that after tonight he’d have no more use for me. The deal we’d made, a little over a month prior, was that I would accompany him to the events he needed to attend during the holidays. There had been no discussion about seeing each other afterwards or anything like that. Nor, had I ever expected there to be … at least, not in the beginning. That was before anything real had developed between Ian and I. Since then, I’d just been living in the moment, not really thinking about what came next. I was simply enjoying getting to know Ian Zerlinger past the image he gave to the world, and letting him get to know me. Now that the holidays were almost over, the thought of that ending began to weigh on me.

“Ready to board?”

I blinked and looked up to see Ian standing only a few feet from me. When I didn’t immediately answer his gaze narrowed, as if he was trying to figure me out.

“Y-yes,” I pushed out, pasting that infamous phony smile on. No need to let my feelings be known right then, and pop the bubble of bliss we’d been living in the past few days. I already knew the holiday party at his brother’s wasn’t something Ian looked forward to. He’d shared with me the rift that’d occurred between his brother and himself, some years prior. And while Bruce had taken a major step back from the running of Zerlinger Beer, he was still a major influencer in the company and that seemed to piss Ian off for whatever reason.

“Let’s go,” he insisted, taking me by the hand and escorting me up the stairs alongside him, instead of allowing me to do my job as a flight attendant and greet him at the door. We had long since dispersed with the formality of my position of flight attendant, although technically I was working.

“Where are you going?” Ian questioned, confused.

“To make sure the drinks and the food for the flight are stocked properly.” I had tried to check beforehand, but Ian insisted that I wait for him to actually get on the plane.

“Sit down. You’re not working right now,” he ordered, as if his word was the final say.

I pushed out a heavy breath, rolling my eyes. I wanted to hate the macho, ‘tell me what to do’ persona of his but, if I were being honest, I enjoyed it.

“I need to give you something.”

That caught my attention and I finally, slowly began to sink down into the cream leather seat directly across from Ian. I watched as he pulled out a black box from the leather briefcase he always carried with him on flights, before retaking his seat.

“I had our driver pick this up from my jeweler in Boston before he retrieved us from the cabin.” He held the long box out to me and pulled the lid open.

I was so stunned by what was inside that I literally pushed back, against the back of my chair. It was a beautifully round cut tennis necklace. The necklace sparkled and shined as if it were winking at me.

“I thought this would look perfect on you tonight in the gold dress you’re wearing. Also, I wanted to give you your Christmas gift a little early.”

My eyes flew to Ian’s face. “Christmas gift?”

He cocked his head to the side. “Isn’t that what friends do for one another? Give each other gifts on the holidays?”

I swallowed and nodded, my eyes falling back to the necklace. “I-I didn’t get you anything,” I stated, lamely, suddenly feeling ashamed for not even thinking of getting him a gift.

“Yes, you have.”

I looked to him, his dark gaze to full of … something that had a name all its own. And if I hadn’t been so emotional at that moment, I would’ve ventured to say that it was a hell of a lot more than just friendship. But I was emotional and almost at a loss for words, so I merely said, “Thank you, Ian.”

That must’ve been all he expected because the smile that covered his face was enough to make my heartbeat increase. When he stood, removing the necklace from the box, and motioned for me to stand, so he could put it on me, my feet moved before my brain allowed me to register what was happening.

“I just wanted to see you in it,” he murmured, his warm breath brushing against the back of my neck, sending a shiver down my spine.

When he clasped the necklace together and ran his fingers around my neck to ensure it laid flat, goosebumps sprang up along the tops of my arms. Slowly, I turned to face him to give him the full view of me in the necklace.

“Stunning,” he stated, his voice strangled with some odd emotion. Then his lips were on mine, claiming them. Claiming me. He pulled me in close to his body and I threw my arms around his neck, never wanting this feeling to end.

“We’ll be ready to taxi the runway in five minutes,” the plane’s captain stated, interrupting us. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize—” he began, shame coating his tone.

“No, it’s fine. We need to get going,” Ian retorted, waving the captain off. He released his arm from around my waist, and waited for me to sit and put on my seatbelt before doing the same.

---