Entangled in Ivy- Interracial Fiction (BWWM)

Entangled in Ivy- Interracial Fiction

Ivy Peterson sat stoically alone at the bar. She'd spent all day getting ready for her night with Brady Isaacson. For nearly a year, she'd been seeing the man, and she hadn't told a soul. Their relationship existed only in hotels and whispered late night calls. She'd sworn to herself that she would end things, but Brady had a pull on her heart she couldn't explain. Ivy reached in her clutch for a cigarette. The designer bag was a gift from Brady for standing her up last month when his wife fell ill.

If someone would have told Ivy that a year ago, she'd be the other woman to a married, white, financier she would have scoffed at the ludicrous idea. If her mother was alive to see her, she would be so disappointed. Ivy pushed the thought to the back of her mind as she opened the cigarette case. It was empty. She was trying to quit the nasty habit, and reached for a strip of licorice candy to ease her craving instead.

A chirp from her phone let her know that Brady was messaging her. Ivy's hand trembled as she reached for the phone. Either he was running late or he was canceling on her yet again. Ivy's hopes for a romantic evening were slashed by the short and informal message. "Can't swing it tonight. Reschedule?"'

Ivy let out a disappointed sigh and slipped her phone back into her her bag, dejected and angry with herself for feeling that way. Ivy had promised herself no more than a dozen times that she was going to end it with Brady. Tonight was the final straw for her. Ivy took out her phone, shot off a short message to Brady that read "Don't bother. It's over." before shutting off her device.

"Scotch and soda plus whatever this beautiful woman wants," called out a man who took the empty seat to the right of Ivy. He was white with dark brown hair, and green eyes that had a glint of mischief in them as he looked into Ivy's.

Ivy fixed her mouth to deny the man's offer, but then thought better of it, "Whiskey. Neat." she said to the bartender, pushing her empty glass toward him.

"A woman after my own heart," joked the man. Ivy couldn't deny that the man was sexy. His blue suit did little to hide the man's muscular body beneath. Ivy gave him a soft smile and put out her hand to introduce herself.

"Ivy Peterson," she said, as the man accepted her firm handshake and responded with his own introduction.

"James Hartford. Nice to meet you Ivy Peterson," James perused her shapely body with a longing stare. Ivy was gorgeous. She had her thick, dark hair flowing in soft curls framing her gorgeous face. Her eyes, deep brown and sparking, shown, but a sadness seemed to be behind her smile. Ivy's body was all tight and toned. James was immediately drawn into the beautiful woman's cosmic pull.

"So James, what is it that you do?" asked Ivy, determined to push her ruined night to the back of her mind.

"I work in finance for money but my real work passion is building furniture," James responded, his smile making Ivy's heart do a little flip, "What about you? What is it that you do for a living?"

"I'm an event planner for charities. I help throw galas and balls for non-profits," Ivy told him before taking a sip from her tumbler of whiskey.

"Beautiful, charitable, and a whiskey drinker, I must be dreaming," James joked. Ivy let out a chuckle and James smiled wider. He was proud to know that he could make the woman smile.

"I am a whiskey drinker. I don't usually put this sort of effort into my hair and make up, so I would put my beauty up for debate. And as far as charitable goes, a lot of what I do involves overly wealthy people throwing lavish parties to pat themselves on the back for donating a few pennies to avoid a big tax bill," Ivy's frankness only served to widen James' smile as he leaned in close to speak.

"I bet you look even better out of your make up and that dress," James' own blunt response and nearness made Ivy feel nervous butterflies.

She was swearing off men. Especially white guys who seemed only interested in keeping her as their hotel bedmate. She cleared the lump from her throat and began to speak, "James, I'm sure you're a great guy. You're obviously handsome and charming, but the only reason I am in this bar is because a smooth talking finance guy stood me up. I'm not interested in finding another."

"What kind of idiot would stand up a woman as beautiful as you are?" James asked.

"A married one," the words left Ivy's mouth before she could process them. Why would she share so much of her business with this stranger?

"I suppose you're right. You aren't all that innocent," James admitted. Usually, that sort of information sent him running for the hills, but with this woman, he reserved his judgment.

"Well, I just ended things with him. As handsome and sweet as you are, I think we are both better off if I take a cab home, and you find another woman to flirt with," Ivy said as she finished her drink.

"Maybe we'll see each other again sometime, Ivy Peterson," James said, extending his hand for Ivy to shake.

"Maybe we will, James Hartford," Ivy shook his outstretched hand, and James brought it to his lips before realeasing it. Ivy ignored the weak-kneed feeling as she headed toward the exit, onto the bustling streets of Chicago.

James had permanent grin on his face, long after Ivy had left. The woman was beautiful and her dry sense of humor made James even more intrigued by her. He wondered what sort of man would string a woman like that along. The moment that James entered the bar, he was captivated by Ivy. Sitting cross legged at the bar, she was practically poured into the tight, black dress and stilettos. Ivy's dress had a plunging back and as James approached he could see the smallest hint of a tattoo.

James had been having a wonderful day. His boss had offered him a raise and promotion, and he figured that meeting Ivy was the cherry on top of that day. James worked long hours at Brookhouse Capital Investments, and his boss, Mr. Isaacson, had taken James under his wing. James felt a little doubt at taking the promotion, it meant even more long days at the office, but it also meant that James would have more money to invest in his furniture studio, even if it meant less time to design his pieces. James convinced himself the promotion would work out in the end, and James took his meeting with the beautiful Ivy as a good omen that he was correct.