Really, she could. She could walk in there, smile, and ask Ian to dinner. Lunch. Coffee. Breakfast. She shook her head. No, not breakfast. Breakfast would only remind him of her taking off before he woke up. Which she was totally justified in doing as far as she was concerned. One-night stands, by definition, only lasted for one night. Maybe she should just call him instead? She paced outside the door to the gallery, debating with herself. Call or go in there? She couldn’t decide if calling him meant she was a coward or just really smart for avoiding temptation. But the latter didn’t exactly ring true because she was trying to get hold of Ian to meet him, which sort of defeated the purpose. God, she was overthinking this to a criminal degree. She’d never cared enough to get riled over something as silly as talking with a man—even a man as hot as Ian. It wasn’t her style. Thinking about how hot he was didn’t do a damn thing for her control because, instead of focusing on all those delicious muscles, she kept getting sidetracked by the look on his face when she’d tried to brazen her way through their encounter in the bathroom.
