On to step two: Slowly layer in personal experiences so that it’s harder for the target to say no. Her gaze slid upward. “When I saw the high ceiling, I knew this had to be my apartment. This used to be an old warehouse.” She pointed to the exposed ductwork, painted a warm taupe. “The nearly floor-to-ceiling window allows in great natural light, which just feels more normal to me, even though I’m living six flights up.”
“You spend a lot of time outdoors?”
Ava laughed softly. “Since I can remember. Not many hotels in the isolated regions my parents took me to. My father liked to sleep under the stars.”
“This your first time living in a city?” he asked.
Questions. Of course, she should have realized. Ian was a reporter. He’d be a man who’d ask a lot of questions. Was she slipping that fast now that she wasn’t active in the field?
Hmm. He was making her a subject. He’d apparently acquired his own approach—to remain distant.
Questions were fine. She could handle questions. Her mission was to make sure her answers steered him away from viewing her as a writing project.
“Other than college towns, I don’t think I’ve ever lived someplace with over a thousand people. To go to someplace with more than half a million people was a pretty big leap. I thought about living in the rural area of the state, then I figured, what the hell?”
His brown gaze met hers. Did she see a bit of understanding in the depths of his eyes? Clearly he was a man who understood a what-the-hell? sentiment.
“I have a gorgeous view of Oklahoma City’s skyline. The city is literally my backyard. And I have plenty of space to show off the artwork and sculptures I’ve collected from some of the places I’ve visited. Before he left, my brother installed shelving on almost every available wall space.” She loved the results.
Ian nodded, and ran his finger along the fine woodwork of the nearest bookcase. His hands were work-rough appealing. Obviously he didn’t use a phone or computer to do his research, he was in the field. Just like her.
Ava smiled when she realized his attention had settled on a small collection of naked fertility goddesses.
“Ah, you’ve found my harem. As you can see, most fertility deities are shown with large breasts and protruding bellies.”
Ian pointed to Danisis, a voluptuous-looking goddess. “She’s different from the others.”
“She’s my favorite. She’s the goddess of war and fertility. Kind of ironic, huh? One destroys life, the other creates it. I love the spear she’s carrying, the detail work is amazing. There’s a very erotic love-play ritual associated with her.”
His hand lowered and he went back to his bags. “Where do you want me to stash my gear? I’ll need to plug in my laptop. My battery’s shot—I used it on the plane.”
“We can just use my computer. My manuscript is already right there.”
Ian shook his head. “It would work better to use my laptop. First, if we go from your manuscript, it’ll be too tempting to use what’s already there. We need to start fresh. A total rewrite.”
She took a deep breath, steeling herself for her next question. She had to know. “It was that bad, huh?”
The left side of his mouth lifted. Was that almost a smile? “A woman who wants me to tell it like it is.”
“Always,” she replied. She wasn’t one for sugarcoating, she wanted total honesty.
“It sucked. And not in a good way.”
Ava gasped. Okay, maybe not that much honesty. “Is there a good way to suck?” she asked.
Ian coughed behind his hand, then looked at her strangely. “If you were going for campy humor, then bad writing can make it more fun. Sometimes. Probably never.”
She nodded. A flash of alarm crossed Ian’s face. His eyes widened, and for a moment Ava was confused.
“Your concept is excellent,” he hastily reassured her. Awkwardly. What did he think she was going to do, cry? That explained the alarm she’d sensed in him a moment ago. Often in patriarchal societies, men backed away from tears. Anything squishy, like emotions, were very much off-limits.
“Thanks,” she told him firmly. But he didn’t need to worry about her. This was science. There was no emotion in science.
“It’s just the writing. The rituals and foods you chose were perfect examples of new and unusual, yet didn’t morph into the freak zone.”
Her eyes narrowed. That would be a relief for the cultures who’d shared their revered customs and ceremonies with her—that they hadn’t moved into Mr. Cole’s freak category.
Which then drew the question—what was Mr. Cole’s freak category?
And would it mesh with her freak categories?
No, she didn’t care. This man simply didn’t get what she was trying to do here. She didn’t want his help, plus he didn’t have the sensitivity. Although she hadn’t expected to spend any time with the man, his name had come up when she’d looked up Cole Publishing. Her search proved him to be a man more in tune covering the world’s hot zones. How would a man like that possibly understand what she was trying to do here? He’d have to go.
“We’ll go over each chapter. We can take the pictures as we move along or do them all at once at the end. At night in my hotel room, I’ll edit.”
“You’ll edit?” she asked, her tone unbelieving.
Ian ticked off these items as if they were on a to-do list. He’d only reduced her life’s work and passion into something resembling an inventory sheet. “You can simply crank these out?” she asked, wanting to make sure.
“I’ll have this book whipped into shape in no time.”
“You’ll have it whipped into shape?” Yes, and there was her limit. Ian Cole had just stepped over the line. She squared her shoulders and looked him straight in the eye. Ian’s gaze lowered a fraction before returning to hers.
She shook her head. “No. I can’t possibly have you do the writing.”
“Why?” he asked. His voice held no offense. And yet that one word sounded unbending. As if he fully expected to get his way.
“It’s clear you don’t appreciate what I’m trying to do with this book. You’re thinking to spice up the time in the bedroom, not how the act of lovemaking can be enhanced with a few delicacies and rites from other cultures.”
Ian moved toward her, towering above her. Something sparked inside those jaded eyes of his, and the firmness of his lips softened. Grew more sensual. For the first time, she felt crowded in her apartment.
“Oh, really?” he said.
She gulped. “Yes, really.”
“This book is supposed to be about passion,” he said, his voice soft, like warm honey. “Fire. The words and pictures should put a fire in your blood. Bring a woman and a man closer. Sharing the deep-rooted coming together of men and women from the beginning of time eternal. From all over the world. It should connect. It should be elemental. Raw. Man. Woman. Sex.”
Ava swallowed. Her blood felt heated, and yet she shivered.
Okay. So maybe this man got it. Her heartbeat quickened with each word from his mouth. With every firm declaration he stated, a picture formed in her mind. A picture of bringing woman and man closer. Of bringing Ian closer to her. Elemental. Connecting and raw.
She took a deep breath. Bad move. He smelled good. Real good, like the rain forest after a heavy downpour. Earthy and clean.
Pheromones. That’s all it was. Ian Cole exuded pheromones she just happened to respond to. It was science. It wasn’t emotion. Now was the time for her to think logically. To be fair, he’d conveyed the concept better than she had, and it was her creation.
Now that made her mad.
“What you have is more along the lines of ‘insert tab A into slot B’ with a lot of history thrown in to make sure you’d rather mow the lawn than spend hours making love to a sensual woman,” he said. His words were laced with amusement.