by Tessa Radley
Holding her against him, he let his eyes travel around.
A bed decked out with snowy-white linen was the centerpiece of this pretty, feminine room. In his peripheral vision Yevgeny caught sight of a French-style dressing table with a collection of antique, glass perfume bottles and a set of silver-backed hairbrushes. His gaze stopped on two pairs of ballet shoes suspended by faded pink satin ribbons from an ornately carved brass hook. He started to smile. On the opposite wall hung a large acrylic painting of a dancer in a style reminiscent of Degas.
It was a bedroom filled with nostalgia and romance.
Not quite what he would’ve expected, given the brisk business exterior Ella McLeod presented to the world.
He entered the bedroom.
Instantly he was enveloped in a mist of that flowery, feminine scent—the scent he was fast coming to associate with the essence of Ella. Gently he laid her down on the pristine white linen of the bed, then stepped back. He could hear her breathing. Deep and even through slightly parted pale pink lips. Pale pink lips that held him enthralled.
Just one kiss...and she could waken.
The idea was ridiculous, but it persisted. Sense warred with temptation. Until, at last, he succumbed to the tantalizing temptation and bent forward. He placed the softest of kisses on her lips then straightened, his color high, feeling unaccountably foolish.
Ella didn’t stir.
He’d gotten the legend wrong—she was not Sleeping Beauty—and instead of waking, the Ice Queen slept on.
* * *
It was already Tuesday. Keira and Dmitri had departed for Africa—without changing their minds about the baby. It had taken all Ella’s willpower not to scream at her sister that she was making the biggest mistake of her life.
To Ella’s intense relief, Holly had already survived four full days and nights, and Ella herself had managed to keep from becoming too attached to the newborn.
But this evening Deb was leaving to go to a friend’s housewarming party. The party had been planned long before the agency had sent her, and Ella waved aside her apologies.
“Go, enjoy yourself,” she said. Holly was sleeping peacefully in her cot upstairs. The speaker for the baby monitor lay on top of a pile of magazines on the low, wide coffee table beside the collection of shopping bags that had been delivered not long ago.
With Deb gone, Ella shut the front door and took advantage of the solitude. She was busily manhandling the huge, cut-pine Christmas tree into the corner of the living room, when the doorbell chimed.
She bit back a curse. No choice but to set the tree down...and undo all the progress she’d made in the past few minutes.
Impatient, she wrenched open the door.
Yevgeny stood on the doorstep, every inch the city billionaire, immaculate in a dark, conservative business suit and a white shirt that still managed to look crisp at the end of the day.
“May I come in?”
Before she could respond, he’d brushed past her. Irritation spiked through her at his high-handedness.
Her voice heavy with irony, she muttered, “Sure you can.”
He turned and grinned. “Thank you.”
The flash of that wolfish smile, the gleam of wicked laughter in his eyes, indicated that he was fully mindful of her irritation. Ella couldn’t halt the unfurling awareness that blossomed through her, starting deep in her chest, near her heart and spreading outward in a glow of warmth. Like a flower following the path of the sun.
The man was dynamite.
And she didn’t even like him. He was obnoxious, arrogant, inconsiderate. So why the melting heat in the pit of her stomach? Why wasn’t she recoiling? What on earth was wrong with her? Didn’t she have any sense of self-preservation? Ella drew in a deep breath and was instantly flooded with the woody aroma of his aftershave.
God help her if he ever set himself the task of trying to charm her—she’d be in serious trouble!
With a toss of her head, she blew out the breath she was holding and brushed aside the absurd notion.
No threat from him.
Never.
“Holly is sleeping,” she said finally as he brushed past her into the living room.
His response had nothing to do with the baby. “You’re putting up a Christmas tree.”
Did he have to sound so surprised?
“Yes.”
Guilt stabbed Ella. She wasn’t about to reveal that it was the first time in the five years she’d lived here that she’d done so. Or that most of the reason why she’d ordered a tree to be delivered stemmed from his barbed comments about Holly enduring her first Christmas alone. Becoming aware of the lack of festive cheer in her home had not been a welcome discovery.
“I almost had it in position...but then the doorbell rang.” She gestured to where the tree lay. “Now I’ll have to start all over again.”
He strode across to where the tree lay. “I’ll give you a hand and we’ll have it up in minutes.”
“Shouldn’t you still be at work?” She bit off the bit about “making your next million.”
He’d walked around to the far side of the tree. Now he shot one immaculate shirt cuff back to glance at a flat watch on his wrist. “Five o’clock. I’ve had enough for one day—boss’s prerogative. I wanted to see Holly.”
She refused to let that sentiment tug at her heartstrings.
Instead, she inspected the dark, formal suit he wore and decided it must be French, while she tried to ignore the effect the broad shoulders tapering down to a narrow male waist had on her. “What about your suit? You’ll get resin all over it.”
He’d reek of a pine forest for months to come. Ella doubted dry cleaning would get rid of the overpowering smell of pine. It would kill that sexy, seductive scent Yevgeny wore so well.
Her lips tilted up in secret amusement.
“What are you smiling at?”
He sounded so suspicious that her smile broadened. He’d find out soon enough. She slanted him an impish look. “Nothing.”
“Somehow I don’t believe that. You’re plotting.”
“Gosh, but you have a suspicious mind.”
“Do you blame me? I know exactly what you are.”
Her smile vanished and her eyes narrowed.
“There’s no point in your staying. Holly’s sleeping.” Ella had had enough of his unwarranted opinions. Now she just wanted him to leave. Before he tempted her to laugh with him...and then he wounded her again. She wanted him gone.
But before she could turn and walk to the front door to show him on his way, he asked, “Have you reached a decision on the new set of portfolios Jo Wells showed you?”
He’d only come to influence—make that sabotage—her decision.
It was her own fault for giving in and revealing she hadn’t selected any parents from the first batch of candidates. She’d been overtired...not thinking properly...reacting with her emotions rather than her head. And look where it had gotten her—Yevgeny hounding her.
Ella headed for the door and opened it. “Once I reach a final decision I’ll let you know. Then you can decide if you want to stay in touch with the baby and her new family. Thank you for visiting.”
Even from across the room, she saw his face fall.
He really had wanted to see the baby, she realized.
The considerations that had led her to update him about progress on the adoption proceedings yesterday returned. Yevgeny was the only blood relative who was showing any interest in the baby; he deserved to be kept in the picture. This would be an open adoption. Jo was insistent that adoptive children needed ties with their birth relatives. Those ties to family helped children grow up secure, with a healthy sense of self and identity.
Ella recognized that she needed to set aside her own antagonis
m toward the man...and think only of the baby.
As much as Holly needed contact with her birth mother, it would be to her advantage to know her birth father...and her uncle. Having a clear sense of identity would help her to stay intact as an individual as she grew up.
Even though Ella considered Yevgeny Volkovoy to be the most arrogantly selfish man on the face of the planet, for Holly’s sake, she had to recognize that his desire to visit Holly was a blessing.
From her position at the door, Ella relented a little. “You can come back when Holly is awake.”
But Yevgeny showed no sign of hearing. He’d already shrugged off his jacket and put it on the sofa. “I said I’d help you with the tree.”
So he was determined to stay—and ignore her wishes. Why had she ever imagined she might persuade him otherwise? He was accustomed to riding roughshod over other people’s opinions.
She didn’t want to be stuck alone with Yevgeny making small talk. Nor did she want him putting up the Christmas tree she’d bought for Holly. And she certainly didn’t want to start thinking that he was helpful. Or, God help her, indispensable.
“You know, I really don’t need—” nor want “—your help.” All too aware of how much more defined the breadth of his shoulders was with his jacket off, Ella didn’t dare to allow her suddenly treacherous eyes to linger on the lean narrow hips, the broad chest clad only in the soft, finest cotton shirt with the top button unbuttoned. Far too tempting. “And don’t forget to take your jacket with you when you go.”
The sooner he put it back on, the sooner she’d be able to visualize him as a corporate Russian bully.
Leaning on the door handle, Ella shut her eyes to block out the image of him standing in her living room rolling up his shirt sleeves. How was it possible to be attracted to a man she detested?
What the hell is wrong with me?
Six
With her eyes shut and her shoulders bowed, Ella looked more vulnerable than Yevgeny had ever seen her as she leaned against the doorjamb of the front entrance waiting for him to leave.
The last time he’d seen her she’d looked exhausted...but this was worse.
Nothing of the Ella he so disliked remained.
No black suit. Instead, she wore a white, sleeveless T-shirt that clung to curves he’d never known she had, while cropped jeans hugged her legs tapering to slim ankles. The simple outfit only served to underline her fragility.
Yevgeny forgot that he’d come to find out whether she’d looked at the portfolios she’d told him Jo would be dropping off today. He even forgot about his plan to convince her that every parent would be wrong for Holly. Except him.
Instead, driven to comfort her, he padded across the room on silent feet to stand beside her.
She hadn’t heard his approach—or, if she had, she showed no sign of it. Yevgeny hesitated. Silky blond hair fell onto her shoulders, the style softer, less sharply defined than he remembered. Her scent surrounded him. Lilacs. Sweet...and elusive.
Slowly, oh, so slowly, he reached out a hand and touched the fine strands where they brushed her shoulder.
She started.
Then her head turned. Behind the large spectacles, her eyes had widened, and the summer sun streaming in through the door transformed the light brown irises to lustrous topaz.
As he stared, her lips parted.
He groped for words that made some kind of sense to fill the electric silence. “What do you want me to do first?”
“Do first?”
From this close he could see her pupils darkening.
All thoughts of offering comfort had rushed out of his mind.
Desire—dark and disturbing—grabbed him by the throat. He tried to respond, but his voice wouldn’t—couldn’t—work. But his body was working...in ways he didn’t even want to think about. Whoa, this was Ella McLeod of all people. He didn’t like her. And the woman had given birth to a child last Friday... He couldn’t be feeling desire...where was his sense of perspective?
“What do you want me to do with the tree?” he managed at last in a gravelly rasp.
“The tree?” The dazed, startled look in her eyes faded. With her index finger she pushed her glasses up her nose. “Oh. The tree.”
“I told you I’d help. It’s too big for you to try and set up by yourself—and you had a baby not so long ago. You shouldn’t be straining yourself.”
Her shoulders squared. The veil of fragility fell away from her. “I was doing just fine until the doorbell rang.”
Yevgeny pressed his lips together.
That was Ella.
Determinedly independent.
Making it clear she didn’t need comfort—or help. Maybe she wasn’t quite as vulnerable as he’d thought.
“Do you ever accept help from anybody?” he asked with more than a touch of exasperation, letting his hand drop away. He should be relieved that she’d returned to her usual independent and icy self. At least he could breathe again—and speak. That curious immobilizing spell that had seized his body and paralyzed his vocal cords had started to lift.
Yet he felt a whisper of regret that the moment had passed. God! Had he actually wanted to kiss Ella McLeod?
Yes.
The answer shocked him.
He had wanted to kiss her, to taste her mouth, to lose himself in her womanliness. Yes, womanliness. There was no doubt about it, Ella was every inch a woman. He would never again be fooled by the lawyer in the black suit again. He’d caught a glimpse of the person—the woman—who lurked behind the legal facade. The lacy night attire. Two pairs of well-used ballet slippers hanging in her bedroom. Even the way she’d held the baby and rocked her in her arms after she’d refused to even look at Holly at first.
She intrigued the hell out of him.
If anyone had told him he’d be hot as a mink in season for lawyer Ella McLeod a few weeks ago he would’ve howled with scorn. Ridiculous. But now the joke was on him. Only minutes ago he’d been ready to devour her with a desperation that stunned him.
Had he lost all reason?
Could Ella the Icicle really be Ella the Enchantress?
Yevgeny turned away, lest his face reveal the turmoil of his thoughts. Ella was sharp, and he didn’t want her recognizing any chinks in his armor that would render him vulnerable to her.
“My parents—when I was younger.”
He realized she’d finally answered his question. “They’re the only people you accept help from?”
A frown creased her brow. “Probably.”
He could see her thinking, trying to come up with other names...and failing. “How about your sister?”
“Keira?” She gave a laugh of astonishment. “She’s too young.”
“I’m sure you were making decisions at her age.”
She shrugged. “Maybe. But Keira always needs help from me.”
Yevgeny hoarded that nugget of information away, to retrieve and examine later. “What about a mentor...or something?”
Ella immediately shook her head.
He stared then. It was inconceivable to him that she’d never asked for—never needed—help. Even he, who prided himself on his self-made success, had relied on mentors to get where he had so rapidly. How much harder would it have been without the men who had advised him...guided him...helped him?
From slitted eyes he gazed at her with fresh respect. She’d cleaved a way out for herself—amidst fierce competition—and she’d gained a good reputation. He’d seen the recognition and wary respect her name produced. Ella had done it all by herself.
Without anyone to hold her hand.
“Your parents must be proud of you,” he said at last.
“They’re very much older.”
She’d mentioned that before....
In response, Ella inclined her head slightly.
“You do!” He blinked in disbelief. She shouldered the burden of her entire family. “And your sister still comes running to you for everything she needs.”
“She always has, but I don’t mind. We’re sisters, after all.” She came instantly to Keira’s defense. “Your brother does it, too. I know because Keira told me.”
Yevgeny bristled. “I don’t have your patience. I told him to make a man of himself.” And that decision had probably cost him dearly. For a time Dmitri had torn through the Volkovoy fortune while Yevgeny could only watch. He’d been wild—and irresponsible. A spendthrift and a wastrel. He’d run through everything that was handed to him—and then come back to demand more.
That’s when Yevgeny had put his foot down—he’d refused...and demanded that Dmitri come with him to Auckland to set up the new headquarters for Volkovoy cruises.
Dmitri had argued that it was a job for a menial manager. But Yevgeny had refused to bow. Do a job, earn a salary or get out.
They’d quarreled. Dmitri had chosen to get out, screeching off to the smell of burnt rubber and Yevgeny had shuddered with fear and regret. For four days his brother had not returned home. Yevgeny had held vigil and waited for news of the worst.
On the fifth day Dmitri had called and sullenly said he was on his way to Auckland. Yevgeny had thanked the gods and hoped his brother wouldn’t do anything recklessly stupid.
Yevgeny later learned he had Keira to thank for Dmitri’s success in New Zealand.
Meeting Keira had saved his brother—or maybe it had been being cut off from funding for his lavish lifestyle and being forced to work, to be accountable for his actions for the first time in his overindulged life.
Whatever it was, Dmitri had finally started to grow up.
“I’m very proud of what he’s done in Auckland. He’s hired premises and sourced some excellent staff.”
Behind her glasses, Ella rolled her eyes. “Keira said anyone could’ve done it. That Dmitri felt it was an insult to be given such a menial task to do.”