by Tessa Radley
Holly chose that moment to squeak and reach out a hand to tug at Ella’s bracelet. As soon as she had Ella’s full attention the baby started trying to blow raspberries.
“Oh, Yevgeny, look!”
She laid the baby back down on the blanket and spent the next few minutes playing peekaboo. Holly was wide-eyed with interest.
Ella was laughing.
And Yevgeny knew he needed to get to know this woman better.
“What’s your favorite color?”
She stopped giggling at Holly’s attempts to blow raspberries and blinked at him. “Why?”
“Just answer.”
“Why do you want to know?”
The familiar frustration rose. “Are you always this suspicious?”
“Of you? Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re not the kind of man who engages in careless conversation. There’s always a reason behind everything you say. But I can’t figure out why you’d want to know what my favorite color is.”
He lowered his voice to a purr. “If you tell me gold, I can tell you it matches your eyes. Or if you say rose, I could compare it to the flush on your cheeks.”
Her cheeks flamed. “Why would you want to say such things?”
“You are a beautiful woman—when you allow yourself to be.”
“Is this part of the same conversation about my not having feelings?”
He took her hand in his and turned it over. “Rounded nails. Your nails are carefully tended.”
She snatched her hand away.
“Wait. I haven’t finished.” He retrieved it from where she’d laid it back in her lap. “No nail color.”
“I’m sorry that displeases you.”
“It doesn’t displease me, but it tells me plenty about you.”
“What? That I’m not trying to capture a man’s attention?”
“There are many ways to capture a man’s attention. Painted nails are only one.” He stroked the back of her hand. “Your skin is soft. That’s very attractive. You take care of it.”
Her lips parted, but she didn’t utter the words that he could see bubbling. Instead, her breathing quickened.
God. He was only touching her hand....
Yevgeny let it go. “When is your birthday?”
“Why? Do you want to read my horoscope? Or do you want to buy me a present?”
“Perhaps—but it would be difficult to choose. I don’t know you very well.”
“You don’t get your assistant to pick out gifts for all your women?”
There was a buzzing in his ears. “Are you saying you’re one of my women?”
She paled. “Of course not!” She fussed with the bottle that Holly had discarded. “I can think of nothing worse.”
“Nothing?”
Her gaze dropped to the baby and he knew she’d gotten his point. Giving Holly up for adoption was far, far worse than being his woman—or the next step, having a child with him.
Then he spelled it out, “It would be easier to give Holly away, would it?”
Ella went white, and for the first time he noticed the sprinkling of bronze freckles across her nose. “It won’t be giving her away. She’ll be going to a family who desperately wants a baby to love—and I still intend to see her from time to time.” She paused. There was a peculiar light in her eyes. “If you really want to know, my birthday was Friday before last.”
It took him only a moment to make the connection. “The day Holly was born.”
There was no way in hell he could say any more.
Ella didn’t look at the baby on the blanket beside her. Instead, she wrapped her arms around herself. “I better get back to work. I have one more appointment before I’m done for the day.”
* * *
“What do you mean you don’t care?” Frustration soared as Yevgeny changed the cell phone to his other ear and tried to ignore the crackle that distorted his brother’s voice. Yes, it must be the crack of dawn in Africa. Without a doubt, he’d woken his brother out of a deep sleep. But he wasn’t sorry. He was too relieved he’d finally made contact, after almost twenty-four hours of trying. He’d pulled the Porsche over to try calling—and gotten lucky. “But you never wanted anyone to know you’re sterile. You swore me to secrecy.”
Dmitri mumbled something to the effect that Keira already knew—and that was all who really mattered.
Of course Keira knew!
How else had Holly been conceived with Yevgeny’s donated sperm?
Which Ella didn’t know. She still believed Dmitri was Holly’s biological father. And Yevgeny had been so confident that she’d ultimately allow him to adopt Holly without the need to air Dmitri’s tragic secret.
He’d sure been wrong about that.
Yevgeny was relieved that the baby wasn’t here to experience his raised voice. He never wanted her associating her daddy with anger. He’d left her with Deb only ten minutes ago; soon he would be back at his penthouse.
“But you were so adamant about it,” Yevgeny gritted out. Hell, if he’d known his brother had become so casual about who knew about his sterility he’d have told Ella yesterday at that bewitching house. Or earlier today at the park.
He’d had the opportunity.
A year ago it had been a different story altogether...then Dmitri hadn’t wanted anyone—except Keira—to know the truth. He appeared to have forgotten all about that.
“Yevgeny, it was you who was so uptight about it.” Even over the distorted line he could hear his brother’s protest.
“Me?”
That wasn’t true. His brother had always been deeply embarrassed about the sterility that had resulted from his contracting mumps when he was young. During his teen years it had been a shameful secret as he roared around wildly with gangs of girls to prove his virility. Even now the memory of those days, the fights he’d had as Dmitri leaped from one disaster to the next made Yevgeny shudder.
“Yes. You thought it made me less of a man. A sissy.”
“I never said that!” He struggled with an impotent sense of growing outrage.
“But you thought it.”
Never! “Where the hell did you get that screwed-up idea from?” he growled.
“You.”
Yevgeny sucked in a breath, counted to ten. Outside the Porsche the street was alive with people hurrying home at the end of the day. “Then you read me wrong.”
“You were terrified about it getting into the papers. You didn’t want anyone to know you’d donated sperm in case Babushka found out.”
That part was true.
“Maybe I overreacted about that.” It was a huge admission to make. Again he was guarding his brother. His grandmother’s one shortcoming in life was that she’d always been very conservative—and tended to be too outspoken and hurtful at times. “Babushka was probably a lot tougher than I give her credit for being. But it was more than that. I was terrified of the paparazzi stalking you. The stories in the gossip rags would emasculate you.” And shame his brother further.
Too late he realized what he’d said. Silence crackled down the line.
“Dmitri?” No answer. More loudly he demanded, “Dmitri?” He was thankful that the Porsche was soundproof. The woman wheeling a pram past the passenger side didn’t even turn her head.
An angry grunt told him his brother hadn’t hung up.
“I’m sorry.” The words came with difficulty. “That was tactless.” And that instinct to protect his brother had been there all his life, started by his mother calling Dmitri a crybaby.
“Tactless?” This time he heard a laugh. His shoulders sagged with relief as Dmitri continued. “My never-wrong brother admits he has been tactless?”
“That’s how you see
me? Never wrong?” Yevgeny knew he sounded incredulous, but dammit, he’d never heard Dmitri going on like this. Like a sullen child. How long had this resentment been simmering?
“You’ve always taken charge of everything—there was never any space for me to do anything—you had it all under control.”
It sure as hell didn’t sound like he had it all under control now! “Dmitri, is everything okay?”
“I’m fine. Better than I’ve ever been in my life.”
“What does that mean?”
“I’m discovering what it means to be myself.”
“But you always were yourself.” Yevgeny couldn’t understand any of this. It was starting to feel as if he’d barged into one of those online gaming sites his brother habitually frequented—a dark, confusing alien parallel universe.
“No.” His brother denied. “I was drifting. I wasn’t myself. I was living in your shadow.”
Yevgeny started to take issue with that, and then stopped to consider what Dmitri was saying. Perhaps he had tried to force choices on his brother, but he’d done it for Dmitri’s own good. He had worried Yevgeny with his wild behavior, spendthrift ways, fast cars and equally fast women. Had he unconsciously adopted his mother’s attitude that his brother was weak?
His brother was talking again. Yevgeny forced himself to concentrate—to really listen. “Keira’s calling. I have to go help in the clinic.”
“The clinic?”
“It’s a health clinic. Run by volunteers. A nurse comes once every second week—mostly to attend to vaccinations and refer more serious cases to the nearest doctor two hundred miles away. I did a first-aid course in Auckland, so I’m working there.”
“You’ve done a first-aid course?” Yevgeny couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice. “I didn’t know.”
Dmitri said, “You also don’t know that I’m tossing around the idea of going to university to study to become a doctor.”
“A doctor?” Yevgeny decided that he must be dreaming.
A laugh came down the line. “There’s a whole wide world out there, braht—you should see it one day.”
But right now Yevgeny needed permission from his brother. “So I can tell Ella?”
“Yes. Keira never wanted to keep it from her. But I thought you didn’t want anyone to know your brother was less than a whole man. So I convinced her it was better this way.”
Oh, Christ. “I’ve made a right mess of it, haven’t I?”
It didn’t matter what he had or hadn’t thought. His relationship with his brother was clearly far from healthy.
After a moment his brother came back with, “It’s not your fault alone. We always seem to talk at cross-purposes.”
“That’s going to change,” Yevgeny vowed. And his brother wasn’t the only person with whom he had a communication issue.
The realization, as he ended the call, was not a pleasant one.
But it had to be faced. His interaction with Ella had been based on quick judgments and half-assed opinions from the start.
No wonder he’d stood no chance of gaining her consent to adopt Holly. But he intended to change that. It was time he put all his cards on the table, and told Ella the truth.
* * *
Ella’s last appointment took longer than she’d scheduled.
When her cell phone rang, Ella glanced at the caller ID. Yevgeny. Her fingers hovered over the face of the phone. Finally she pressed the button to kill the call and let it divert to voice mail, then looked back at the man sitting in front of her.
Jerry Foster was at the end of his tether.
Two weeks ago he’d received divorce papers. Like many of Ella’s clients, he hadn’t even known his wife had been unhappy. Yes, Lois had nagged him to change his workaholic habits a couple of years ago; and, yes, she’d asked him to join the tennis club and play doubles two nights a week but he’d been too busy with the business. He’d told her to find another doubles partner. He’d thought the problem was solved.
Until two weeks ago.
Now he was in a spin. His wife was demanding custody...occupation of the marital home...and worst of all, Jerry was starting to suspect that her new doubles partner was more to her than a fellow tennis player. What Jerry wanted, he’d told Ella, was not a divorce. What he wanted was to keep his wife and kids.
Jerry wanted his life back.
He was ready to do whatever it took to restore his marriage. But his wife wasn’t playing ball.
“Why won’t she talk to me?” He jabbed his fingers through messed curls, the gold of his wedding ring glinting in the office lighting. “I was doing this for her—for us,” he amended.
Jerry owned a multimillion-dollar investment company. It generated enough income to more than meet the family’s needs for years to come.
“I wanted her—our family—to be cared for,” Jerry was saying. “Not like my mother. My father died when I was ten, a heart attack, and my mother had to scrub toilets to put food on the table.”
“Did you ever explain this to Lois?” Ella asked gently.
Jerry looked at her as if she were an alien from another planet. “Of course not. I didn’t want her to feel sorry for me. I always played down my roots. My mother died the year before I met Lois—there was no need for her to know all that sordid stuff.”
“Do you think she would’ve loved you less if she’d known about your background?” Ella wasn’t a therapist but she’d seen similar versions of this sorry tale played out too many times to count.
A feeling of déjà vu settled over her.
“No!” He looked shocked. “She’s not like that. She’s the kindest woman I ever met. That’s why I love her so much.”
The confusion in his eyes made Ella feel like crying.
Jerry didn’t need a lawyer—he needed someone who could teach him how to communicate with his wife!
A knock sounded on the door. A moment later Peggy peered around the door frame.
“I have Mr. Volkovoy on the line. He says it’s urgent.”
Ella gave her cell phone a sideways glance. There were three new messages since she’d killed that call a few minutes ago. Her heartbeat picked up. Holly. Had something happened to the little girl? And if so, wouldn’t she have heard from Deb first? Drawing a deep breath she told herself not to jump to conclusions. “Do you know what the matter is?”
“He wouldn’t say. But he did admit it wasn’t a medical emergency.”
Holly was okay!
Ella silently blessed her assistant’s unflappable common sense.
“Tell him I’m with a client. I’ll call him back in about ten minutes when our meeting is done.”
Peggy nodded. “I’ll let Mr. Volkovoy know.”
* * *
Yevgeny found himself pacing the vast black marble floor of his penthouse as he waited for Ella to call him back.
He wasn’t sure what childish urge had compelled him to insist it was an emergency. He wasn’t used to women not being available to take his calls—and being left to cool his heels. Yet he suspected he’d behaved badly. How often had he been annoyed by women calling and insisting that trivial matters were crises that needed his immediate attention? How often had that led to him backing out of the relationship?
He didn’t like the idea that he was acting in a similar, irrational fashion.
In truth, the very idea scared the hell out of him.
Not that he was in any kind of relationship with Ella....
When Ella’s call finally came, it came through on his cell phone. He leaped on it.
“You were looking for me?”
Her voice sounded warm and welcoming. He stopped pacing. Something in him responded and he felt the tension that had ratcheted up during his conversation with Dmitri slowly uncoiling
. “Yes, I was.” He searched for words.
“I called Deb. She says Holly is fine. Is it Keira—has something happened?”
There was a note of fear in her voice now. Yevgeny squeezed his eyes shut. God. Why hadn’t he foreseen that his stupidity might cause her to worry needlessly? He opened them again and stared out the wall of glass but, for once, the spectacular view failed to register. “No, no, nothing to do with Keira.”
He hesitated.
No, filling her in over the phone about his conversation with his brother was precipitative. He’d talk to her...face-to-face...as he’d planned. Now wasn’t the time to go off half-cocked; too much was at stake.
“Then what’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.”
He shifted his feet. He could feel himself coloring. He felt like a total idiot. It was not a familiar feeling. Against this backdrop he was going to break the news of what he planned to do? He had to pull himself together, or else he was going to end up alienating Ella forever. And that would not be in Holly’s best interests.
But the edginess wouldn’t leave him. “Uh—I have to go to a charity function tomorrow night.”
Today was D-Day.
Was he taking too much of a risk, leaving it until tomorrow? Even though Ella had said she’d only make a decision about Holly after Christmas?
“Yes?”
There was confusion in Ella’s voice.
“I accepted several weeks ago.” While he’d still been dating Nadiya. “For myself and a partner. I was wondering whether you would be prepared to come with me?”
His grip on the cell phone tensed.
“You want me to go on a date with you?”
Yevgeny couldn’t tell whether she was annoyed or amused. Nor did he want to point out that technically they’d been on two dates already—one he’d orchestrated at her home with food from La Rosa and the second at the park earlier.
“That’s what was so urgent?”
The disbelief in her tone made him writhe.
Because he wasn’t being truthful.
Turning away from the glass wall, he started to pace again. “The organizer called me to get my partner’s name for the table lists— I needed to let her know.”