Marisol turned from the closet and looked at Ian. “Why will I need underwear?”
“Because I don’t want to have to be thinking of you not wearing underwear. I want all of that,” he said, pointing to her body, “covered.”
“Since when have you turned into such a prude?” she asked. “I thought you liked my body. I certainly like yours.”
Ian rolled over on the bed, then jumped up and began to rummage through her underwear drawer. He plucked out a black thong and a lacy little scrap that could barely be called a bra. “I can see I’m going to have to buy you some respectable underwear.”
Marisol giggled. “And what is respectable underwear? Panties that attend church regularly? Perhaps a bra that does volunteer work at a local hospital?”
“You know what I mean.”
She grabbed a dress from the closet, then sat down on the bed next to Ian. “If you want a respectable girlfriend, I don’t think I’m the one, Ian Quinn. You know who I am and how I live my life. Without underwear. Why would you want to change me?”
“I just want to change you for today,” he said. “Then you can go back to being who you are. I love who you are.” He paused, reaching out to caress her cheek. “I love you.”
Marisol blinked, the sentiment catching her by surprise. She fought back a surge of emotion as she leaned over and kissed him. He’d never said it out loud, but now he had. And it felt so good to hear it. “I love you, too.”
Ian grinned, like a little boy who’d just been handed a key to the candy store. “You do?”
Marisol nodded. “Do you know why I love you? Because you always tell the truth. Now, tell me why I have to wear underwear.”
He groaned, grabbing her around the waist. “Because we’re going to dinner at my parents’ house. Once a month, the whole family gets together for Sunday dinner and I thought it was about time I introduced you to the family.”
Stunned, Marisol backed away from Ian. “Today? Did you tell them I was coming?”
“No,” he replied. “I thought it could be a surprise. But they won’t mind. There’s always enough food and room for a guest or two. My sisters bring salads and stuff and my mother cooks a huge feast.”
“But I can’t go. I don’t have anything to wear,” Marisol said. “And I don’t have any underwear. I can’t meet your mother wearing this.” She held up the thong. “I mean, what if my skirt blows up…or-I can’t.”
“You don’t have to be nervous,” Ian said. “They’ll love you. You’re talented and funny and you’re exactly the kind of girl my brothers and sisters would enjoy.”
“How many brothers and sisters?”
“I have four brothers and two sisters and two brothers-in-law and two sisters-in-law. And nine nieces and nephews.”
“So, I’ll be meeting twenty-one people today, in a shabby dress and obscene underwear?”
Ian took her hand. “I’m the one who should be worried. I made a deal with my brothers that I’d stay away from women for three months. The day after I made the deal, I met you. So much for celibacy.”
“Why would you make such a ridiculous deal?” she asked.
“It was like a dare,” he said. “And with my brothers, you can’t turn down a dare. And there was money involved. The guy who stayed celibate longest got two thousand dollars. And if anyone enjoyed the pleasures of the flesh before the three months were up, they had to pay an extra thousand.”
“So you owe two thousand because of me?”
Ian nodded. “But you were worth every penny.”
“You didn’t even try to resist,” she said.
“I know. From the minute I saw you driving that sweet little sports car, I was a goner.” Ian grabbed her hand and pulled her down on the bed, pinning her hands above her head. He kissed her softly, running his tongue along her lower lip. “And my family will be goners the minute they meet you.”
“Promise?” she asked.
“You are the most important person in my life, Marisol, and it doesn’t matter how they feel about you. It won’t change my feelings.”
“They could hate me,” she said.
“I think they’ll love you. Now, where is the pretty blue dress you wore the day I met you? Wear that-with underwear, of course.”
Marisol reluctantly crawled off the bed and rummaged through her top dresser drawer, frantically searching for her most conservative lingerie. From the bottom of the drawer, she pulled a pair of white cotton bikinis and held them up to Ian. “All right,” she murmured. “I can go.”
A few minutes later she was dressed and she stood in front of the mirror and rearranged her hair for the last time. Ian walked up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders, then kissed her neck.
“How do I look?”
“You look exactly like the girl I fell in love with.” Ian smiled. “Perfect.”
Marisol watched him in the reflection of the mirror, this handsome man who had walked into her world and captured her heart. Someday, maybe she’d be able to understand exactly how two people so determined not to fall in love had done just that. For now, it was enough that they’d found each other. And that they’d love each other forever.
Kate Hoffmann
