by Roxie Rivera
"Just like that, huh?" She pressed the lid onto the container. "You draw that line and close that door and that's that?"
"Yes." He accepted the cookies from her. "It's best not to dwell on things that become tiresome. Cut the problem out of your life and move on."
She studied him for a moment. "And that's your philosophy in life?"
"It's worked well for me." He picked up his cup and carried it to the sink. Cookies in hand, he headed for the door and slipped back into his coat. "Thanks for the tea and the cookies."
"It's the least I could do. You saved me from a run-in with Lalo and got me home safely." Her sensual mouth curved with a playful smile. "It wasn't quite the sleigh ride of Christmas carols, but it'll do."
He laughed. "I'm pretty sure the sleigh from those Christmas carols didn't have heated seats or luxury leather."
"No." She grinned. "The heated seats were a nice touch."
He chose not to make a flirtatious remark about heating up the leather. There was a reason Shay was so tempting to him—and it was because she was different. She deserved so much better than what he had to offer, and he wasn't about to insult her by coming onto her and plying her with gifts and trinkets in exchange for a few hours of affection every week.
"Thank you very much for coming to my rescue tonight."
Coming to her rescue? Jesus, he was nobody's hero!
Still he couldn't stop himself from offering help.
"If you ever need anything, Shay, you come to me first. I'll take care of you—it," he hastily amended. "If Lalo's men bother you, I want to know about it. I may not be in that life anymore but I have friends who are."
"Thanks, but I can handle it."
"It's good to be brave, Shay, but it's better to be smart and safe. Let men like me deal with men like Lalo. You're above that and should stay out of it."
Her gaze drifted to the open neck of his shirt where the tops of the onion domed churches inked on his chest were visible. Did she know what they meant? He wanted to know what she was thinking but wasn't courageous enough to ask because he feared the worst.
"All right," she said softly. "I'll come to you if I need help."
"Don't ever hesitate to ask me for anything. My door is always open to you." He shut his mouth before he went too far.
"Thank you. I really appreciate that."
He opened the door and stepped out into the cold, dark night. "Merry Christmas, Shay."
"Merry Christmas…Alexei."
She spoke his name in that gentle voice of hers, and it did crazy things to him. It took every ounce of willpower to drive away from her house. His brain told him to keep his foot on the gas, but the lust and need unfurling within him like a blazing fire urged him to turn around, knock on her door and claim her with a kiss that would leave her breathless and trembling. A few sweet words and promises of money and pretty things would get him through the door and into her bed. That tactic had never failed him.
But he couldn’t do that to her.
He wouldn't do that to her.
Shay had escaped an entanglement with a dangerous drug dealer tonight. The very last thing she needed was an ex-con and former mobster complicating her life and tarnishing that promising future she was working so hard to build for herself. She was going places, and he refused to be the millstone around that beautiful neck of hers.
As he let himself inside his house and moved through the quiet, empty space, Alexei tried to avoid the painful conclusion about his life that lingered in the far reaches of his brain. Like the house, he was empty inside.
Alone.
After splashing some whisky into a glass, he dropped into his favorite chair and switched on the news. He had just gotten comfortable when his phone started to ring. He glanced at the screen and saw Marissa's smiling face. She was a breathtakingly beautiful woman and looked so utterly tantalizing in that photo, especially with the tanned swell of cleavage peeking over the red fabric of her dress. Any other night, the sight of her photo would have revved his engines and had him thinking about sex—rough, sweaty and hard and exactly the way he liked it.
Now? Well…he felt only irritation. He didn't want another empty encounter. Marissa was a nice woman, and they had had some truly fun times together but she was only in it for the perks. He wasn't innocent in that, of course. His predicament was one of his own making.
Not wanting Marissa stuck inside waiting for him when she could be out enjoying herself with friends, he sent her a quick text message. Not tonight.
She didn't answer.
Tossing aside his phone, he eyed the container of cookies he had placed on the bar. Unable to help himself, he got up to grab them and poured more whisky into his glass. He examined one of the sugary snowflakes and thought of Shay. Beautiful, talented, smart, determined to better herself and a skilled baker? Of course, Shay had to be the whole fucking package.
Loosened up by another two fingers of scotch, he considered asking the janitorial company to take the two sisters off his contract and give him a different cleaning team. Men, he thought sourly. He needed a team of men cleaning his establishment. There would be no temptation that way.
Despite the attractiveness of that solution, he acknowledged it was the wrong one. He simply had to keep his distance. No more late nights when she was due to clean the dealership. If they had to interact, he would keep their conversations short and light.
Thinking of the car he had arranged for Nikolai, he decided that was the template he would follow. He could keep an eye on Shay and make sure she stayed out of trouble. If that sister of hers was intent on hanging with the cartel crowd, Shay would need his help sooner or later. He might not be a hero, but he could step in when necessary to shield and protect her.
Taking another bite of the delicious cookie, he closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. Shay's smiling face flashed before him. After all the terrible things he had done in his life, maybe Shay was his chance to do something truly good…
Catch up with Alexei and Shay in ALEXEI (Her Russian Protector #8) to be released in Summer 2014!
From Russia, With Love
VASYA
Smile. Laugh. Pretend.
Ty Weston repeated the silent mantra as he mingled with his parents' guests at their annual black tie Christmas Eve gala. The boozy bash was the hottest ticket on Houston's holiday event calendar. It was a who's who of Houston's elite. The old money oil barons, the new gas tycoons from all that fracking going down in the Eagle Ford Shale and the Permian Basin, the athletes, the tech whizzes like Bee Langston, the shipping magnates—everywhere Ty looked he spotted dollar signs.
If it hadn't been for the new crisis PR firm he was starting in the New Year with Lena Cruz, he would have bowed out of this schmooze fest, but it was the cost of doing business. With Lena out of the country on a whirlwind winter vacation with Yuri, that deliciously sexy Russian oligarch she had wrapped around her little finger, the burden of finding clients fell on him.
Despite wanting to be anywhere but here, Ty accepted his duty to their fledgling firm, plastered on a megawatt smile and move around the room. He zeroed in on the group of newly minted gas millionaires because he knew the lot of them were tied up in media scrutiny over fracking practices. Considering his dad came from very old oil money and their wealth was tied up in the energy sector, Ty had all the necessary contacts and knowledge to go after those types of clients.
Though the men welcomed him warmly, he had long ago learned to spot the ones who were uneasy around a gay man. The tightness in the jaw, the smile that never quite reached the eyes, the stiff laughter—he mentally checked the boxes as he chatted with the group. Of the five men, two would never be clients and he crossed them off hist. The other three seemed receptive so he made sure to hand out his business cards and encouraged them to stop by the new offices or drop him a line via email.
On the prowl for his next mark, Ty spotted his baby sister Caitlin stuck in a corner with the football player their mother ha
d arranged as a date. Poor Cait had that nervous smile on her face, the one that told him that she was about to have a freaking panic attack. Her sensitive ears hated loud music like this, and she struggled so badly in social situations. The protective streak within him ignited. Wanting to save her from yet another terrible setup, he weaved his way through the crowd.
"Don't even think about it, Tyrone." His mother's hissed voice dinged his ear as her icy hand gripped his wrist.
He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth rather than shake off her hold. Fully aware they were surrounded by the eyes and ears of the society press, he affected a smile and embraced his mother in a way that seemed loving. Sliding his arm around her shoulders, he murmured, "She's miserable. She needs to be rescued."
"She's never going to learn how to be normal if you're always running interference for her."
His lips twitched as he smothered a snarled reply. Normal? What the fuck was normal anyway? "She's doing the best she can."
"She could do better."
Deftly untangling himself from the woman who had given birth to him but who had shown him so little love, he ignored her order and continued his trek across the hotel ballroom. Issuing commands might work in D.C. where his mother was one of the most powerful U.S. senators, but it didn't fly here. Her power over him had ended many years ago. Now if he could only free Cait…
"Sugar," he swept in and pecked her cheek. "I don't think I've met your friend." He knew the football player by sight and reputation but wanted to be polite.
"His name is Quade Dykstra." She relaxed into his brotherly hug. "He's a line receiver on the football team."
Quade frowned. "Wide receiver."
"Oh. Right." She looked mortified at her gaffe. "He's a wide receiver."
"It's nice to meet you, Quade." To his credit, Quade didn't hesitate to shake hands with him. Considering the photographers milling around the place, it said a lot about the football player to know that he wasn't reticent about being photographed getting chummy with an openly gay man.
"Nice to meet you, too."
"So what have you two been chatting about all night?"
"Your sister was telling me all about her telescopes and the research she's been doing at Rice for the last three years."
Ty inwardly winced. Once Cait started talking about her work, she had such a hard time turning off the spout of knowledge that wanted to keep pouring from her mouth. Smiling at Quade, he playfully asked, "Did we learn anything interesting?"
"She told about that asteroid she discovered."
"Comet," Ty corrected carefully. "She discovered a comet."
"Right," Quade said with embarrassment. He glanced at Cait. "Sorry."
"It's fine." Her clipped reply convinced Ty she was anything but fine.
An uncomfortably tight silence settled around their trio. Ty wasn't at all surprised when Quade's gaze flicked to a small group of nearby women. Wanting to make the transition easy for everyone, he tapped Quade's arm and said, "Well, I hope you don't mind but I need to borrow my sister for the rest of the night. Is that okay?"
"Oh. Um…sure." Quade couldn't hide the relief on his handsome, clean-cut face. The popular athlete bent down to give Cait a quick hug and smiled down at her. "I had a nice time, Caitlin."
"As did I." She parroted the expected reply, but Ty sensed she hadn't enjoyed herself at all.
The football player didn't ask to see her again or stick around a moment longer than necessary. He had the decency to head for the bar instead of making a beeline to the bevy of big-haired Texas beauties who wanted a chance to roll around in his bed.
"I really screwed that one up, didn't I?" Caitlin sounded so down on herself, and it just killed him. "I tried, but I was so worried about what to say and what not to say and then he asked about work and I thought maybe he really was interested so I—"
"Sugar," he interrupted gently with a finger to her lips. "Breathe. In. Out." She followed his directions to the letter, and he lowered his hand. "Did you like him?"
"He was okay."
"Just okay?" There were women who would sell an ovary for a chance to date Quade, but Cait seemed totally oblivious to his charms.
"He had a nice smile. He was kind to me."
"A nice smile and kindness is a good place to start."
"I don't think I'll see him again." Her eyes were trained on the bar where Quade chatted up a stunning brunette.
"No, I don't think you will." Cait had always preferred honesty so he gave it to her in black and white. "Look, not every date is going to work out, okay? There will be some really fantastic dates and some truly awkward ones."
"Some of them are fantastic?" She looked skeptical. "All of my dates are awkward." Her mouth slanted. "This is pointless. I keep asking Mom not to make me do these but—"
"Stop asking her, Caitlin. Just tell her." He placed his hand against her cheek. "Sweetheart, you're twenty-three years old. You're a world-renowned astronomer. I've watched you stand up to Nobel Prize winning scientists to prove your theories. You can stand up to our mother."
"And then what?" she asked nervously. "What happens after I tell her no more interfering?"
"You date the guys you want to date." He considered the way her Asperger's Syndrome affected her life. The same differences in her brain that made her a brilliant scientist also caused her such difficulties in her personal life. Her very mild form of autism made it difficult for her to understand the social norms that he took for granted. She never let it stop her from trying new things though. Sometimes he stood in awe of the courage she displayed. "Or you don't date at all. It's up to you. Whatever you want to do is okay, Cait."
"I do want to date. I want to fall in love and be happy."
"But?"
"But I can't even get a date unless my mom sets me up!"
"You can get a date. You're just not looking in the right places."
Perplexed, she asked, "What are the right places?"
"There's not a master list, Cait. You have to go out and have fun for yourself. The right guy will eventually cross your path. Sort of like that comet of yours," he added with a wink.
That didn't cheer her up. In fact, it seemed to make her even more panicked. "Oh God, Ty! Do you know what the statistical probability of me finding that comet was? If you consider the number of single men of marriageable age and the various places I visit in, say, a one year period and then factor in—"
"Cait," he interjected with a laugh. "Honey, you're doing it again."
She rolled her lips under. "Sorry."
"It's okay. We'll work on it, okay?" He linked their arms together and pecked her cheek. "After the New Year, we'll practice. I'll hold a boot camp at my place, and I'll teach you the art of dating."
"You make it sound so easy."
"You mastered calculus in, like, kindergarten, Cait. You can learn the rules of dating in no time."
"And then?"
"And then I'll unleash you on Houston's single men," he said with a laugh and twirled her onto the dance floor.
Smiling, she let him tug her close and lead her in the two-step. "What about you, Ty? Do you think you'll find the one?"
She had that unnerving way of always asking the one question he didn't want to answer. Tonight was no exception. "I've got my eyes open. If he crosses my path, I'll snatch him right up."
He didn't tell her about the big sexy beast of a Russian who had crossed his path a few months earlier. Dark-haired and handsome, Vasya Fedorov made Ty's heart race and his palms sweat. He hadn't felt so excited or nervous around a man since the first time he had recognized his attraction to Jed that summer at the country club. What a lifetime ago that was!
Lena's new Russian bodyguard had him all torn up inside, never knowing if he was coming or going. He had been sure at Benny Burkhart and Dimitri Stepanov's wedding that he was going to finally get Vasya right where he wanted him. The silent, brooding Russian had beckoned him to follow, and Ty had bounded after him like a puppy
chasing its new master.
But once Vasya had him alone in that cabin on Yuri's yacht, the burly man had shut him down. Ty hadn't even been able to sneak a kiss. Vasya had accused him of being too much of a player to date. Apparently the slightly older man didn't do one-night stands or casual hookups. To say Ty had been shocked was an understatement. Even now, nearly three weeks later, he didn't know how to process that bizarre interaction.
"I've been invited to visit Moscow."
"What?" He missed a step but managed to recover quickly. Pulling back slightly, he peered into his sister's face. "When?"
"February. The ISON network is headquartered there."
She said it as if he should know what that meant. "And that's important because?"
"Because they have dozens of telescopes and data crunching centers solely focused on tracking objects in space," she explained.
"Like your comet?"
She smiled. "Like my comet."
"Well—then you have to go, right?"
"I think I do."
"Do you want to go?"
She shrugged. "I speak Russian fluently so that's not an issue. I don't enjoy the physical act of traveling but I do enjoy new places. I would like to be face-to-face with some of the colleagues I've been corresponding with via email for the last few months."
"I think you should go, Caitlin. It will be good for your career. How long will you stay?"
"A university there has offered to host me through the summer. The department here supports the exchange." She glanced around and lowered her voice. "I haven't spoken to mom yet. Dad said he was thrilled when I spoke to him earlier this morning."
"I'm sure he's very proud of you, Cait." Ty scanned the room for their father, not at all surprised to find the man on the complete opposite side of the ballroom from their mother and chatting up a woman who couldn't be any older than Cait.
Why their parents had remained in a marriage that made them both miserable confounded Ty. Divorce wasn't nearly the coffin nail that it had once been for politicians, and their father had made sure to get a pre-nup before tying the knot so money wasn't the issue. Obviously, something held them together, but he had never been able to figure out what the hell it was.