The One He's Been Looking For. Joanna Sims

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      “I thought that was you.” The well-dressed man didn’t bother to take off his amber-colored sunglasses as he extended his hand. “Ian Sterling.”

      “Sterling Silver?” The policeman smiled and shook Ian’s hand. “It took me a minute to recognize you. How the heck are you?”

      “I’m good. Scouting a shoot.”

      “Around here? I’ve seen you on TV a couple times and I thought, ‘not bad for a guy the senior class voted as most likely to get arrested.’”

      Ian smiled briefly. “If I remember correctly, you tied me for that honor.”

      Officer Wolf laughed. “I was hoping you’d forgotten about that, in light of my current profession.”

      Jordan listened to the exchange between the two men with growing impatience. She was tired, hungry and she wished that GQ and RoboCop would have their little frat-boy reunion on someone else’s time.

      “Listen, I’m sorry if I made you get out your pad for nothing,” Ian said.

      “What do you mean?”

      She was just about to interrupt their little reunion party when Ian gestured to her. “She’s one of my models. I asked her to park here, and she shouldn’t get a ticket for something I asked her to do.”

      “You asked her?” The cop sounded skeptical as he glanced over at her.

      “That’s right,” Ian said smoothly as he tried, unsuccessfully, to read the name on her license. “And I’d really appreciate it if we could just call this a warning.”

      RoboCop didn’t look totally convinced as he tapped his pen on the ticket pad. For whatever reason, this Ian character was attempting to help her beat the ticket, and she fully intended to do her part in order for him to succeed.

      Jordan pushed away from the motorcycle, walked straight over to Ian and said, “You’re late, Mr. Sterling.”

      GQ looked down at her and examined her from behind his sunglasses, just as if he was examining a bug trapped in a glass jar.

      “I’m sorry about that. A conference call held me up,” he said. Jordan had the distinct feeling that giving an apology, even a fake apology, left a bitter taste in this man’s mouth.

      Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, Officer Wolf released her license from his clipboard and extended it to her. “I’m going to let you off with a warning this time, Ms. Brand.”

      Jordan let out her breath, which she hadn’t even realized she was holding in, and plucked the license from his gloved fingers.

      “Thank you, Officer.” She slipped the license into her back pocket.

      “Thanks, Wolf. I owe you one.”

      Logan Wolf gave a slight shake of his head as he sat down on his motorcycle. “You bet, Sterling. Just make sure she moves the bike ASAP.”

      “Will do.” Ian reached into his wallet and pulled out a business card. “It was good seeing you again. Let’s catch up sometime.”

      Logan took the card and tucked it into the front pocket of his uniform. “Sounds good.”

      The minute the officer drove away, Jordan turned on her heel and headed back to her bike.

      GQ followed her. “My name is Ian Sterling.”

      Jordan picked up her helmet and slipped it on. “So I’ve heard.”

      Ian held out a business card to her. She didn’t take it. Instead, she swung her leg over the motorcycle seat and sat down.

      “I’m a photographer,” he added.

      She pushed the motorcycle upright. “Congratulations.”

      She couldn’t see his eyes, but she read the slight tightening around his sculpted mouth as displeasure with her response. No doubt he was used to getting his way with women all the time.

      “I want to photograph you.”

      Jordan gave a sharp laugh as she slipped the key into the ignition. “Uh...wow! That was a genuinely pathetic pickup line.”

      “I’m not trying to pick you up. I’m a photographer.” Irritation had crept into his tone. He pointed to the old Lion Clothing building that had been converted to lofts. “My studio’s right up there.”

      “Listen, mister, just because you helped me out with RoboCop doesn’t mean I owe you a massage with a happy ending. Got it?”

      Before Ian could reply, the brass bell attached to the tattoo parlor door clanged loudly as Chappy shoved the door open. “This joker bothering you, Jordan?”

      Most people had the good sense to be intimated by the burly biker. Ian, Jordan noticed, remained unimpressed, and didn’t take a step back from her.

      “No.” She started her bike. “I was just leaving.” She revved her engine for a second before she shifted into gear. “A parting word of advice, GQ. Get some new material.”

      Jordan slid the visor of her helmet into place and pulled out onto Sixth Street. Ian watched her as she disappeared up the road; no question about it, he wanted her for the book. From her striking cheekbones to her a lovely heart-shaped face and those shocking cat-shaped blue eyes, Jordan was perfect. The interesting angles of her features and her “in-your-face” attitude made her...fascinating. He knew instinctively that she was the one he’d been searching for. She had everything he wanted: energy, intensity, beauty.

      “You got some sorta problem, Jack?” Chappy glared at him.

      Ian slipped his business card back into his wallet. “None that are any of your business, Jack.”

      As he headed back to his studio, his thoughts were fixated on the beautiful woman on the Ducati. And thanks to Wolf and the biker, he knew her first name and her last name. Now all he had to do was track her down.

      Chapter Two

      Jordan stepped out onto the narrow foyer of her condo and pulled the door shut. The early-September ocean breeze blowing in from the harbor brushed across her skin as she stepped out onto the curb. There was a chill in the air that made her glad that she had chosen her skinny jeans and ankle boots over her favorite microminiskirt. Jordan crossed Island Avenue and headed toward the trolley station. As she walked along First Avenue, a black Bentley parked in the lot directly across from her condo caught her attention. She watched as the chauffeur got out, hurried around the front of the vehicle and opened the door for the passenger to exit. It was an odd place for the Bentley to be parked. As Jordan walked directly in front of it, the passenger stepped out from behind the chauffeur. She recognized him instantly.

      Ian Sterling!

      Shocked, Jordan stumbled on a break in the sidewalk. She paused temporarily before she started to walk at a hurried pace toward the trolley. This wasn’t a coincidence. GQ was actually stalking her! Jordan quickened her steps as she reached in her pocket; her fingers wrapped СКАЧАТЬ