Instinctive Male

by Cait London

  It was a sad thing, Mikhail thought, that Paul didn’t appreciate his family as much as he did a finely tuned organization.

  Mikhail hadn’t seen Ellie this morning, and it was usual for her to deliver Tanya to Mary Jo or Leigh or Bliss before starting work. He had thought about holding her all night, hoarded each memory of sounds and fever and touch, how she had touched him, trembling at first and then with a certainty and strength he hadn’t suspected….

  Mikhail had ached to go to her this morning, but he held back because just the sight of her all tousled and warm could have made him ache more….

  And they were about to enter a battle where he had to think clearly.

  He smiled briefly at Edna, who was straightening the papers that needed his morning attention. A widow providing for her ailing sister, Edna’s character matched the prim suit and blouse she wore—ever meticulous and efficient. “The guard dog,” salesmen had often called his secretary. She was good at her job, discreet, honorable, sensible—and tough, Mikhail added, a woman to respect.

  “A mixed bouquet was a perfect choice, Mikhail,” Edna said firmly. “They’ve been delivered to her suite. When she returns to it, Ellie is in for a nice surprise.”

  Mikhail pictured Ellie in a sturdy Stepanov bed, flushed, curved and drowsy amid the rose petals they had just crushed. The tight squeeze of her body had warned him against more yesterday. He wanted to be very careful with her, not only sensually, but in the way a woman should be treated—cherished. Perhaps a little old-fashioned, but as a Stepanov, it was his right to cherish a woman with whom he had made love and still wanted.

  Mikhail slashed his name across the papers, approving a percentage raise for the employees. “She is a surprising woman. You realize the situation, Edna? Ellie’s sister and her father are not going to be sweet. They want Tanya for a business pawn.”

  “Over your dead body,” Edna said lightly. “And mine. That little girl is a ray of sunshine, too sweet for Paul Lathrop. I cannot understand how he could possibly spawn two daughters so opposite. I’ve met them both, and Ellie is that child’s rightful mother, not Hillary. You’re right to protect them.”

  “There are jobs at stake here, Edna. Including yours.” Mikhail began inspecting the additional papers she had prepared for his signature.

  “I’m not worried. You’ll handle it, Mikhail. I know what it cost Ellie to ask you for help. You won’t let her down, and she knows it. She’s strong herself, but now and then, everyone needs a little help—like you helping me get this job when I needed support for myself and my sister.”

  “You’re a top right hand, Edna. You helped yourself.”

  “So will Ellie. Life’s a struggle, and when she’s on her feet, Ellie will thank you.”

  Mikhail frowned slightly and looked at Edna, who had known him since he was a little boy. “I don’t want her to feel obligated.”

  “She knows how to separate the wheat from the chaff, Mikhail. Give her credit.”

  Automatically, as he worked on the papers, Mikhail outlined the day to Edna. Then, suddenly, a click of the office’s heavy doors took his attention to Ellie’s curved backside.

  As she backed into his office with a loaded cart, her slacks were tight against her bottom—a round, soft curve that he had cupped in both hands as they made love. Every molecule in his body tuned into a sensual knot.

  Then he realized that Edna was speaking to him and that he had just broken the pen in his hand—the ink was dripping on the paper.

  “I’ll deal with this,” Edna said crisply, sweeping up the papers and taking a moist towelette from his drawer. She wiped the ink drops from his hand as if he were a little boy, smiled with what he suspected was delight and patted him on the head.

  Then Edna moved to hold the door open for Ellie, who was still tugging the cart inside. When the door closed, Ellie straightened and whipped off the cloth over the elegant samovar. Splashed with gold and flowers, the Russian device to make tea was complete with a teapot on top and an ornate spigot.

  She sat on the chair in front of his desk, her expression grim.

  “What’s this?” he asked.

  “I ordered this samovar. I thought we would have an elegant tea, complete with Russian tea cookies. High tea is very popular with ladies. Some men might like it, too. Fadey does, and so does Jarek. I think it is very appropriate, and Edna approved the purchase. And it’s beautiful, quite the softening complement for your office. There’s nothing that settles a good snarl like a civilized cup of tea. We’ll need china, of course, or those decorative metal holders for glasses. We could offer a proper tea to the menu for guest rooms, complete with a strawberry tea cozy—all of which we could sell in the resort’s shop.”

  Mikhail cut through Ellie’s new product ideas to what mattered most—her opinion of him. “I see. You think I snarl.”

  “You brood. I’ve upset your kingdom. You don’t like changes. Call it a silent snarl.” Her brisk tone said she had come to a decision and a bottom line. Last night’s kiss at her door had told him she was already in flight, moving back from what had happened, from him as a man, as a lover. The circles under her eyes said she hadn’t slept and Mikhail ached to hold her.

  “You’re this—” Ellie pointed to the samovar. “The Stepanovs are based on old-fashioned love and respect and traditions that they pass on to their children—like hugs and kisses and understanding. My family isn’t.”

  “So, you’ve been thinking, is that it?” Mikhail’s nerves danced and chilled. Ellie had the look of a woman in retreat—from him. Her tone said she was laying out realities that couldn’t be dismissed…or overcome.

  “Exactly. I take responsibility for my actions. I wanted you. I took you. Let’s just leave it at that. This is a temporary situation, and you’ve provided us with a safe haven for now. For that, I’m grateful.”

  Mikhail rose slowly and fought the stormy mood inside him. He now knew the battle—her fear that they weren’t a match, that their backgrounds separated their futures. But yesterday afternoon there hadn’t been any boundaries. “It isn’t gratitude that I want from you.”

  She wasn’t as unaffected as she seemed. Ellie’s hands gripped the arms of her chair, her knuckles showing through the fair skin. She sat ramrod straight, her body tense. The light passing through the window set fire to her hair, and Mikhail wanted to…to kiss her until she forgot about any differences between them, and any danger. “Do you trust me, Ellie? Yes or no.”

  Her gray eyes warily flicked to him and away. “Yes and no,” she responded carefully. “I always thought you were one thing, and now I find another.”

  He came to stand by her chair, fighting the impulse to drag her to him. “Do you trust me as a man?”

  She sat rigid in the chair, staring away from him. “I have a hard time with trust, Mikhail. I’m sure you can understand why.”

  A bitter pain sliced through him. They had loved and touched and met on a plane that meant he would want her forever, long past the heated desire of their bodies. “So that’s it, darling. You wanted me. You took me. No regrets. End of story.”

  She breathed deeply and her breasts lifted and filled her sweater. “You’re an emotional man, Mikhail. You come from passionate people. Mine have ice water for blood. You know Paul, and then there’s my mother—dear Nora. He basically bought her and discarded her for a younger model. She didn’t care. The settlement was enough to make her leave me with him, because Paul never loses assets. That’s what Hillary and I were, business assets.”

  He ached for the damage Paul had done, and reveled in how Ellie had survived and achieved, in her capacity for love despite how little had been given her.

  Mikhail circled her, wrapped in his frustration. “You complicate a simple matter. We made love, and you’re frightened. It’s only natural. I should have been more thoughtful. In my hunger, I forgot a woman needs time to adjust. We’ve been busy, and I should have taken time for you. I apologize.”

  Her soft
hands flexed on the chair, though she didn’t look at him. “No apologies needed. I was thinking, weighing, and it was right for me—with you. You’re helping protect Tanya, for now, and I need to be honest with you about my feelings. I really tried with my marriage, Mikhail. Logically, it should have worked, even without him wanting Tanya. We were well suited. We played our parts perfectly, but I’m not good at lasting relationships. That’s why I used to keep them on the light side. It was so much easier. Looking back, I probably left those relationships before they really began. My ex-husband accused me of being a tease and frigid. There’s probably truth in that. I thought it would be easy, that we knew our roles and what to expect from each other.”

  Ellie definitely wasn’t frigid, rising to a fever pitch in their lovemaking, searing him with her hunger and melting after the fullest completion of lovemaking. Now her mind was at work, cutting away at the beauty, fearing it. “You think I will want too much, more than you want to give,” he told her.

  She folded her hands on her lap, studying them as she spoke quietly. “I found that sex, giving my body, actually meant more than a marriage duty. I wasn’t…linked.”

  Mikhail settled back into his thoughts. He knew exactly what she meant; he had experienced the same feeling. They had been “linked,” and not only in body; for that time they had been one being, with one heart—finally complete.

  Yesterday Ellie had not teased, and she was definitely not cold. She was fighting for Tanya, and yet it hurt her to battle with her family, because her love ran deep.

  “Be aware that you mean little to me—personally,” he lied, changing tactics and prodding at her. He had ached for her throughout the night, and perhaps his entire life had been a search for this one woman. “I’m set for a takeover, Ellie. You and Tanya are just pawns in what I want. So don’t get any mistaken ideas that my family breeds honor, any more than yours.”

  She was on her feet in a heartbeat, taut and furious with him, anger alight in her hair, her skin, snapping in her eyes. “Don’t you dare say that about Fadey and Mary Jo. Nor Jarek or Leigh. Just don’t you dare.”

  “We’re a match, you and I, are we not? Cold? Bloodless? Heartless?” he asked, pushing her, excitement flowing through him that only Ellie could ignite.

  She threw up her hands. “How can you say that? You developed this resort out of nothing. It’s beautiful and magnificent and—You built the Amoteh because you wanted employment for those you love, and security and health benefits, and—”

  Ellie caught his tie and wrapped it around her fist as Mikhail let her back him against the wall.

  The fire was there, the real woman, and Mikhail adored her, this woman, his woman. They stared at each other, the air heating between them, shifting with remembered shadows of their lovemaking, the intimacy. “You’re the only man who can set me off like this, Mikhail,” Ellie said unsteadily, after a moment.

  “Likewise.” He couldn’t help grinning and bent to kiss her knuckles. The slender hand flattened against his chest moved in a light caress, pleasing him yet more. “So I am the only one, hmm?”

  Ellie scowled up at him, her eyes stormy and her color almost as high as when they had made love. “Arrogant, spicy, delicious, moody—”

  He kissed her hand again and reveled in her frustration and anger, a reflection of his a moment ago. “Go back to the spicy part. Like pepper, or cinnamon, or…?”

  Ellie threw away his tie and looked disgusted as she folded her arms over her chest. “Exotic. Flavorful, full-bodied flavor, that sort of thing. I couldn’t sleep last night, and you’re the reason. By the way, we need a tennis and a golf pro to give lessons here at Amoteh.”

  “Too expensive. Now back to the point—it’s interesting to be compared to a coffee. Tell me more about how flavorful I am. Am I full-bodied and fulfilling to the taste?”

  Ellie stared at him. “I will not.”

  “You will, darling.” Mikhail moved to lock his office door and to punch Edna’s number on the intercom. “Hold my calls.”

  He thought he heard his prim secretary giggle before he turned his attention to Ellie. He ripped off his tie and tossed it aside; the tie was followed by his jacket and shirt. On his way back to Ellie, he kicked off his shoes. “I want to make certain that we never have this conversation again, where you come in here looking like a thundercloud and run through all that garbage and setting up fences between us. I want you as a woman, not as a pawn. The question is, how do you want me? As a momentary distraction and then you go on your merry way?”

  “I’ve hurt you. That wasn’t my intention.” Her voice trembled as Mikhail jerked the drapes closed, shadowing the room.

  “Yes. But, of course, you hurt me. How did you think I would take your little declaration about how unsuitable we are on the morning after we made love? If it’s a cold, needy thing between us, darling, prove it. If what you are trying to tell me is so, sex could be as routine as opening morning mail…dispense with the necessities and get on with the day.”

  “Mikhail, I didn’t mean it like that. You’re so… upsetting.”

  “So I upset you, do I? Good,” he said darkly, and noted with satisfaction that she wasn’t afraid of him as he came to stand close to her.

  “You big, dumb, goofy—” Ellie said as she reached for him.

  Mikhail caught her to him, lifting her off her feet, holding her so that their eyes were level. “You are not your mother or your sister, who would desert or sell a child for their own welfare. You are not like Paul.”

  Ellie fought tears; she’d battled a lifetime of fear that she would be exactly like her family. She’d fought Paul’s cold ridicule, his derision that she wasn’t the son he wanted. She’d grown brittle, tough and wary of genuine emotion; she naturally reacted sword for sword. “I could be. I like having my way.”

  He was giving her too much: warmth, tenderness, forgiveness. And she had hurt him, just as he’d been hurt before.

  Mikhail kissed her lightly, his expression tender. “And I like having mine.”

  He eased into a big chair, holding her on his lap. His large, gentle hands stroked her body, caressing her thighs and breasts. “I missed you last night. How do you feel this morning? I mean, I did not want to hurt you. You are so small—”

  His touch trembled now, seeking beneath her sweater, just as her body softened and ached and warmed….

  Mikhail was very warm, and aroused, frowning slightly as he concentrated on cupping her breast, running his thumb across the tip. She wanted to dive into him, to soothe and comfort and take at the same time. Ellie didn’t know how to express her emotions; she just knew they fluttered and tingled inside her, deeper than she had ever felt, terrifying and yet fascinating her. “You haven’t hurt me, Mikhail. Um, could you please do whatever you’re thinking about?”

  “I want to give you time,” he whispered rawly as he leaned her back to kiss her throat. “But I also want to give you something else.”

  His mouth cruised open and hot against her skin as he eased away her sweater and bra. The hunger in his kiss became her own, and when his mouth suckled gently, his hand moving inside her slacks, caressing her, Ellie felt the warming of her blood, the storm swirling in her body, the rhythm sweeping her away into the fire as she gripped Mikhail’s shoulders, her nails digging in to anchor the surging tide flowing over her.

  His lips muffled her startled, keening cry, and his hands gentled her down to earth again. She rested against him, spent by her passion. He was still hard beneath her, his eyes glittering, his features taut with desire and tenderness. She doubted that she could move from him; her bones seemed to be melting inside her. Mikhail was very thorough. “That wasn’t exactly fair, Mikhail. I’ll have to pay you back. But right now, you’ve done your deed.”

  “So have you, apparently. It is quite a sight to watch, you blooming with my touch. I can only await the pleasure, though I cannot guarantee all those fascinating little sounds,” he murmured dryly.

  Ellie prep
ared to leave his office, then leaned against the door and looked at him. Mikhail understood the sensual, warm hunger that ran through her now—because it ran through him, also. “Hold that thought,” he said softly, “or stay and make it come true.”

  With a smile that said she intended to do her best when they wouldn’t be disturbed, Ellie left his office. Moments later, Edna entered Mikhail’s office.

  “Lovely day, isn’t it, Edna?”

  Edna turned to the window and noted the dreary, chilling rain. “Oh, absolutely lovely.”

  Mikhail’s smiled as he slashed through paperwork, a man eager to be done. His tie was tucked into his jacket pocket, and his dress shirt was tossed over a chair. Life was good, he decided, thinking of the satiny bra beneath his shirt, and the way Ellie had quivered upon his lap, flushed and warm and pleasuring him.

  “Lovely day, Mikhail,” Edna repeated lightly as the storm outside began to claw at the window’s glass.

  He interrupted his humming, scanned the day outside and smiled. “Perfect.”

  That afternoon, Mikhail stood rigidly aside as the future bride’s crying mother left Ellie’s office. Ellie glimpsed Mikhail’s momentary horrified expression as Mrs. Hightower grabbed him and backed him against the wall. She sobbed against his chest. “You’re Mikhail Stepanov, aren’t you?”

  “Yes. I’m certain everything will be fine,” he said stiffly, obviously uncomfortable.

  “My little girl. I’m losing my little girl,” the woman sobbed as Ellie came to stand at the door, her expression amused.

  Mikhail shot her a narrow warning look that indicated the woman pressed against him. He wasn’t in the mood for mourning mothers, or women who just wanted to hold a firm-bodied man.

  Mikhail did look very fine, rawly masculine, grim, uncomfortable and in need of rescuing.

  Ellie shook her head and grinned, enjoying the situation of Mikhail asking her for help. He was on his own. Or she could save him for a price….