by Cait London
“Get off that ladder. I’ll get the nails myself. The right nails. Go bake some cookies or play with your computer. I’m losing daylight,” he repeated.
“You’re going to lose a lot more than that.” Jessica backed down the ladder, giving way to Alexi who was descending. She stood to one side and crossed her arms. “Alexi, you are an evil, temperamental, bullying, single-minded, arrogant—”
He walked to an assortment of sacks, selected one, filled the pouch at his workman’s belt and held up a nail in front of her. “This is a roofing nail,” he said, spacing out the words as if speaking to a small child. “A screw has little ridges running around it.”
“Rat,” Jessica finished her assessment of the man who had nudged her temper all day.
She studied Alexi, who was dumping the old removed nails into a can. Sawdust was in his hair and a little had caught in the dark stubble on his chin. He was wearing a worn, quilted plaid shirt against the cold, jeans that revealed his thermal underwear through the torn places in them, and work boots that had definitely seen better days.
“I am not going to the Seagull’s Perch tonight while you tend bar,” she said unevenly to keep herself from shouting. “I’ve had enough of you for the day. So far, I’m not intelligent enough to hold a level steady or use a nail gun. And just by the way, you’ve laid out the kitchen wrong. Add that to the way you do not roll the toothpaste tube from the bottom and—What are you looking at me like that for?”
“Are you going to yell again? It sounds like you’re getting worked up enough to—”
Jessica stepped close to Alexi and grabbed his shirt in her fist. She stood on tiptoe to frown up at him. “I never yell,” she said between her teeth. “Got it?”
“I think you are going to yell,” Alexi stated quietly, watching her. “You did a while ago.”
“No, I won’t and no, I didn’t.”
“Okay,” he said lightly, and lifted her hand to kiss her palm. While her mind stopped and churned and tried to find steady ground, Alexi bent to kiss her lightly, his tongue flicking lightly across her parted lips. Then he picked her up by the waist and lifted her aside; he walked into the living area and into the kitchen.
Jessica followed quickly; Alexi could confuse her too easily. “You can’t just shift an argument from a heated discussion—”
Alexi frowned and studied the kitchen layout. He opened and shut the small temporary refrigerator’s door. He turned the water faucet on and off. “You were getting worked up to yell. What’s wrong with this layout?”
“I was discussing…repeat, discussing, how arrogant you are. You can’t just kiss my hand and me in the middle of it. That changes the rules.”
“We have rules? I thought we were just going with the flow, as Bliss and Ed say. The sink here, the refrigerator here, dishwasher here—pantry and laundry room combination just off the kitchen. There’s nothing wrong with this design.”
“We do have rules. One of them is that you can’t talk to me like a child.”
“You are no child,” he said firmly. “But you are used to ordering people around and you are my assistant. I am not yours.”
“Do women really put up with your arrogance?”
“Since I am temporarily—as you say—out of commission with any woman other than you, how would I know that? And I am not arrogant. I simply know what I am doing. How many remodeling jobs have you done? I’ve done a few and there is nothing wrong with this layout.”
“I’ve designed traffic flows, aisle promotions, and so on. This ‘assistant’ knows that you’ve got the refrigerator clear at the other end of the kitchen. If the door is open, it will block anyone from coming into the kitchen from the living room. And the dishwasher should be close to the sink. You really should make the window longer and the sill wider for potted herbs.”
Alexi frowned and rubbed his index finger up and down beneath his lips. “Hmm.”
He crouched to scratch off the names of the appliances on the floor and scribbled new ones.
“Alexi, I do not like how you—”
He stood and looked down at her, then leaned back against the counter. “What’s the matter? Can’t you keep up, Sterling?”
“You’re determined to—”
He bent to kiss her again, this time nuzzling her cheek with his and whispering in her ear, “You’re all rosy and warm, just like when you—”
This time Jessica grabbed his shirt with both fists. “You think you can get away with anything, don’t you?”
“I like to think so,” Alexi stated mildly, reaching to ease a strand of her hair behind her ear. He bent to nibble on her lobe. “What are you going to do about it?”
He hadn’t shaved. His brilliant blue eyes were dancing with humor, the lines beside them crinkling, and there was that devastating grin, a boy at play tormenting a girl. To add to that image, Alexi reached out to tug one of the braids he’d fashioned for her earlier.
Alexi could be sweet, like when tugging her onto his lap to braid her hair. Or he could be tormenting, like now.
She could either retain her dignity, or she could—Jessica shoved her hands into his hair and tugged his head down for a kiss that she hoped would stun him. Then she, the champion in their tussles, would walk away…. Alexi was in for a big lesson at Jessica-school.
She had never come after him, but now nothing could stop her. She slanted her mouth on his, fusing the fit, then arched against him. Alexi’s arms tightened around her, lifting her slightly until their stares met. “You’re getting very physical and demanding, aren’t you, Sterling?”
“Can’t you keep up, Stepanov?” she asked huskily, and bent to gently nip the side of his throat, his earlobe. Hitching higher, she wrapped her legs around him. She watched Alexi, pleased that he’d seemed shocked at her play. She’d never played in sex before, teasing, demanding, taking that first initiative—
Alexi’s hands cupped her bottom and, carrying her, he walked to their bed, turned and fell backward with her on top of him.
He lay quietly beneath her, watching, waiting.
“It’s daylight,” she said, weighing the hours until dark against her need for Alexi.
“We’re losing it,” he reminded her.
Jessica sat up astride him. She tugged off her overlarge sweat jacket, the overlarge sweater, all battered and worn, courtesy of Alexi’s limited clothing. She began to unbutton his large flannel shirt and his eyes darkened into silver slits as she peeled it away, revealing her sports bra.
He was already aroused, layers of fabric separating them, and yet he hadn’t touched her. The tiny lines around his tightly pressed lips said he was fighting the sensual taunt. There was nothing more challenging that a sensual battle with Alexi—it served to stoke her own hunger. The incredible freedom to expose her needs to Alexi, to know that she could control the pace, that he would always wait for her fullest pleasure, astounded her.
Jessica slowly slipped out of her sports bra and tossed it aside. She smiled at Alexi and rode that slight movement of his rising hips. “Oh, oh, got to go,” she said, and put one leg out, her toes reaching for the floor.
She loved this game—hunting, chasing, teasing Alexi, because she knew it would always end the same. She laughed as Alexi reacted instantly, tugging on her wrist. He toppled her gently in the opposite direction, flat on the bed, and pinned her with his body. “You think so, do you?”
His hand ran down to the bow in her sweatpants, tugging it free and easing away the pants and the thermalwear beneath it. Cupping her briefly, Alexi ran his fingers along the elastic of her briefs and stroking her gently, found the liquid, intimate warmth. Jessica caught her breath, the cords of her body tightening, her skin heating, that melting hunger that needed feeding. Her fingers dug into his shoulders as she forced herself to breathe quietly. She could already feel the riveting storm, feel herself traveling into the tight, passionate tunnel, spiraling upward—
With a grin he said, “Oh, oh, got to go,” repeating
her tease.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” she said as her own hands began to work, her body already undulating to the heavy pressure of his. In a flurry of hands and open mouths and hunger, Alexi was soon undressed. He let her turn him easily, his hands cupping her breasts as she rose over him, already accepting his fullness, bending to the pleasure of his kiss, tasting the heat and hunger rise desperately, feverishly in him.
One tug of his mouth’s suction and Jessica let go the quiet scream of pleasure, her body already tightening, bunching for a release.
But Alexi wanted more, demanded more, making her wait until their bodies were slick with sweat, every heartbeat racing. Suddenly, Jessica could no longer wait, freeing the pleasure, letting it burst within her, through her.
Later she lay within Alexi’s arms, her body tangled with his, her cheek against his shoulder. He stroked her back, nuzzled her head, and as his heart slowed its race, he kissed her damp forehead.
Whatever had been bothering him loomed, almost palpable between them.
Then Alexi was untangling their bodies, rising from the bed, almost as if he couldn’t bear to touch her….
Naked, broad shoulders gleamed in the dim light outlining his body as Alexi slid into his jeans and walked into the kitchen.
Puzzled at his change of mood from playful to sensual and then to brooding, Jessica slowly drew on his flannel shirt and followed.
She found Alexi, his hands braced on the counter, looking out at the thin line of brilliant orange separating the night sky from the black waves. “Alexi? What’s wrong?”
Nine
She wore another man’s ring.
Jessica considered what they had to be “temporary.”
And Alexi wanted everything!
Alexi stiffened as Jessica’s open hand smoothed his back and she asked again, “Alexi?”
He turned to her abruptly. Alexi considered Jessica’s vulnerable, concerned expression, her cheeks flushed by their lovemaking, her lips swollen from his kiss. She looked like a child, mussed from sleep, in his overlarge flannel shirt—until he noted her long, smooth legs, legs that had wrapped around him, her body gloving his, making them one.
She hid so much of herself from him—those tight little inner emotions. When she touched his mother’s china, it was with reverence and fear of breaking the pieces. But it was more than that, as if she were storing memories to last long after she’d left him.
What would Jessica do if she knew how deeply he already loved her? That each time they made love, he thought about his own child growing within her?
Uncertain in his frustration, Alexi rapped at her. “You bought a new shuttle bus, complete with handicap facilities. You bought wheelchairs and other medical necessities for those who needed them. You donated to the clinic.”
She frowned, her hand upon his chest now, smoothing the area over his aching heart. “Yes, I did. Willow has a new van, and I needed the shuttle so that I could carry more people on outings. Corporations donate for tax deductions. It serves everyone.”
He caught her wrist, capturing it just as he wanted to do with the woman, to keep her by his side. To make his life with her. “Does that mean you’re staying? You live here, work with me every day, and when I’m tending bar, you’re at your desk, working.”
“I don’t see the problem, Alexi.”
“You wouldn’t. You’re on an extended vacation, right? What if I want more than this month? Or six months. Or forever. What then?”
His gut tightened painfully as Jessica paled and her hand moved away; another man’s emeralds glittered in the dim light. The demand that he’d pushed back too often surged roughly to his lips. “What am I to you?”
Alexi could barely breathe; her answer was too long in coming, too thoughtful.
“Well, you’re definitely not my fun-time guy—except when you want to be. You can be charming, boyish and most of all unpredictable. Top that off with bossy, arrogant, swaggering, macho, brooding, whatever, and I guess that would be you. I doubt that anyone knows just exactly what a pain in the butt you can be, Stepanov.”
“You know what I mean.” He ran his hand through his hair. Jessica let him into her life just that bit, and then the doors slammed shut.
“This is all so beautiful,” Jessica whispered unevenly. “I’m discovering all sorts of things about myself, Alexi. It’s terrifying to discover that I want a man so badly that I’d forget where my obligations lie…that I am tempted to drop a promise to a man who helped me survive.”
Alexi frowned and crossed his arms. Unlike the lover of a short time ago, he seemed formidable, foreign and dangerously on edge. “Your obligations are to yourself, to what you feel.”
“No, you don’t understand what Robert did for me. On his deathbed, he asked me to see to Howard, to help him. I said I would. I—Robert was the father I never had. He was my mentor and my friend—”
“I know.” He’d been wrong to push her, and seeing her torn between her obligation and what Alexi wanted hurt him, as well. Putting aside his needs, Alexi reached to gather her into his arms. He picked her up and carried her to the big rocking chair, easing to sit with her. Jessica reached to take the soft throw from the back and spread it over them, covering his bare shoulder with the cloth on one side; on the other, she rested her head. She sighed unevenly, dabbed the cloth at her damp eyes and settled against him. “I could stay like this forever.”
The wooden chair began to creak as Alexi rocked her. For the moment he gave himself to the peace of having Jessica in his arms. But he knew he would want more than “temporary.” “That’s your decision.”
While Alexi was out at the Seagull’s Perch remodeling the storage room, Jessica lay on the house’s floor, next to Tanya, gardening books spread open in front of them. The mid-March winds howled around the corners of the house, snug now with the renovations. Baby Sasha was in her Moses cradle, sleeping until her next feeding—a bottle of her mother’s breast milk. Meanwhile, Ellie and Mikhail were enjoying a romantic dinner at the Amoteh.
According to Viktor, mid-March was the perfect time to plant potatoes and they had, just today. The huge garden space had been plowed and tilled, waiting for vegetable seeds. Jessica had known how to cut “seed” potatoes, keeping an “eye” in each section and letting them dry somewhat before planting.
She’d missed the simple rhythm of life that she’d known as a child, the planting of a garden and watching it grow. She missed hanging sheets on a sunlit clothesline, and the new one that Alexi had built was perfect. So perfect that she’d stood between the lines of sheets, crying so that he couldn’t see her.
Discovering her there, he’d seemed so angry—his thumb testing the dampness on her cheek. And then Alexi had tugged her into his arms, holding her tight and safe where she could hear the comforting beat of his heart.
“Temporary” was a big word. Maybe he felt, as she did, that this beautiful time together was only a slice in time.
She had made two brief necessary visits to her office in Seattle, and Alexi had insisted going with her. Of course, he’d concealed his purpose to protect her against Howard with the need to secure various hardware—any of which could have been ordered through catalogs or online. In her house, Alexi—a man raised on a Western ranch and used to big expanses of sky, water and land—was restless and uncomfortable. While watching him put aside his needs to see to her safety, Jessica knew that her home was back in Amoteh, in the cozy house they were remodeling together—in the gleaming floors, the big, wide Stepanov bed….
Tanya brought Jessica back to the present; the girl’s small finger traced a picture of pansies. “Pansies are happy, aren’t they? Like little faces? Viktor said his wife liked pansies, especially deep purple ones. Grandpa Fadey says that we are going to grow lots of raspberries and that I can pick them and that Grandma Mary Jo says that I can help her make his favorite-ever cookies.”
The cycle of life was here in Amoteh, changing seasons with the Stepanov family, with Al
exi….
Years ago, Jessica had left a dirt-poor farm, a family who didn’t care—and she was never going back. What would Alexi think of a woman who couldn’t bear to see her parents again? Who could never go home? She didn’t want to give him the ugly pictures of that life, so different from this one.
Baby Sasha stirred and mewed lightly, and Jessica rose to change her diaper. Tanya began cutting pictures out of the catalogs to paste onto paper for Viktor.
Cradling the baby against her, smelling that sweet scent, Jessica heard the doorbell. Tanya, eager to show her parents her handiwork, sprang up to follow Jessica to the sunroom.
It would be beautiful, Jessica thought as she passed through the spacious room, the cool, practical, pebbled linoleum perfect to counterbalance potted herbs and seedlings, not ready for full sun. With the baby in her arms and Tanya at her side, Jessica opened the door.
On the back deck, the tall, cool blonde with artfully tossed long hair slowly took in Jessica’s hair; it was twisted and lightly secured by a gigantic clip on top of her head. The blonde’s cool, dark brown eyes roamed down Jessica’s sweater, stained a little by the baby’s last feeding. The picture-perfect woman, dressed in an expensive sweater and designer jeans and high-heeled boots, took in Jessica’s paint-stained bib overalls and the hole in her left sock.
“Is Alexi here?” the woman asked in a low, husky tone. “I was told he lived here.”
“He’s at work—”
The woman’s look was disdainful as she looked at the baby and down to wide-eyed Tanya who was clinging onto Jessica’s leg. “The girl definitely isn’t Alexi’s. She’s too old and he was quite busy over three years ago. Are these yours? Are you his—housekeeper? Is the baby Alexi’s?”
Jessica adjusted the infant’s flannel blanket around her head. However, Jessica could not adjust her rising temper, and perhaps jealousy, as easily. “It’s too cold at the doorway for the baby. You’ll find Alexi at the Seagull’s Perch.”
“I heard he bought it,” the woman pressed. Behind the carefully emphasized and beautiful eyes, a female shark stirred, ready to bite. “His cousin, Mikhail Stepanov, said I’d find him here. Are you certain he isn’t here? I’m Heather Pell. You may have seen my pictures in magazines—if you read them—or the society pages. We used to be engaged. I married someone else, but now I’m divorced. We—Alexi and I—were very close.”