lifted by a woman who knows her own heart, dancing in front of his grave…. Don’t count on any dancing from me, Stepanov. Play any more games with me and you’re in for your own curse.”
He lifted his mug in a toast and nodded, acknowledging her accusation.
“This is what you’re really like, isn’t it? Not the easygoing guy everyone thinks you are. This…this retreat is where you come to be as you really are—dark, moody, deliberately obtuse and difficult.”
“And you want me.”
The statement, driven home once again, irritated; just that slightly foreign inflection had slipped into Alexi’s deep Western drawl, just the nip to remind her that Alexi’s father, mother and uncles had emigrated from Russia.
At the dance, Alexi with his cousins, Jarek and Mikhail, had circulated in the filled ballroom, obviously enjoying their family, the guests and friends of the close-knit community. Tall, dark, almost sleek, despite rugged looks and broad shoulders, they’d caused more than one woman to stare.
Jarek and Mikhail had held their wives close and tender, loving intimacy flowing between them with a touch, a look.
“That’s Alexi, their cousin,” Willow had whispered to Jessica. “He’s unmarried and gorgeous. He’s sweet, too. I dare you to dance with him.”
“You’re on,” Jessica had said, and had moved toward Alexi. While dancing with him, she had not sensed “sweet,” only brooding and dangerous.
And Willow might need that.
Jessica decided to skip negotiations and go straight for what she wanted. While framing her negotiation package, she scooped to pick up the ball of socks and went to sit on the cot, placing her coffee on the table beside it. She jammed on the socks, rolled the extra length into thick cuffs and, as an afterthought, stood and removed the shearling coat. She arranged her damp light jacket over the cord stretched near the stove. Jessica walked back to his sprawling bed, determined to regain her poise and have her say with Mr. Alexi Stepanov.
Alexi watched that sensual, gliding walk, elegant even with the large heavy socks rolled upon her feet. He could have told her that her light tan sweater did nothing to hide the peaks of her nipples, but he wouldn’t.
He wouldn’t let her know that earlier, that softness had caused his hands to open possessively upon the coat over her back. That her curves had branded his body with an unwanted need. That the scent of her caused him to want to nuzzle her hair, to feel that silkiness against his skin. That the need to taste her lips had almost driven him to—
That stir of sensual interest irritated Alexi, the ramrod-straight way she’d marched back to the bed and plopped herself onto it—all that soft flesh beneath her clothing had bounced and quivered as she settled in to stare at him coldly. As if she were sitting at the head of a corporate boardroom table, Jessica Sterling had crossed her long, sleek legs that disappeared into his overlarge socks and stared at him.
She pushed a thick wave back from her cheek and inhaled, which served to push her breasts against that thin sweater.
Alexi inhaled sharply; that sweater seemed to have nothing beneath it but creamy soft curves. When she crossed her arms and looked at him, her breasts lifted and bulged against the material.
His body had locked on to several facts at once: a very sensuous woman was sitting on his bed, he hadn’t been sexually aroused in a long time, and Jessica Sterling—rich, determined, selfish, spoiled—was definitely not the woman he wanted to arouse him.
“I have a friend whom I think is in trouble. I want you to investigate and take care of whomever is troubling her—quietly. If the police are called in, that person could go underground easily, only to surface when least expected. I prefer to keep my friend out of any problems. She’s really sweet and kind, and—and I want her protected. I want whatever is bothering her to be—removed discreetly. My friend lives here in Amoteh.”
Alexi frowned slightly; as a Stepanov male, his protective instincts had raised instantly. “Tell me who she is.”
“You’ve met her—Willow Longstreet. She makes soap with the Amoteh strawberry logo for the resort? She has a shop on the street by the waterfront—Willow’s Soaps? You danced with her?”
Alexi tipped back on his chair, rocking slightly on the back two legs. Willow had worn arty, flowing clothes, her head covered with black curling hair cut in a bob with a center part. Her tiny glasses were usually at the end of her nose. At the dance, Willow had seemed open and happy, delighted to be with her friends, and he’d enjoyed her company.
The women seemed unlikely friends; Willow’s open warmth contrasted with Jessica Sterling’s cool, sleek, almost hard businesslike persona.
Yet she cared enough to investigate a man who might protect her friend. Alexi suspected that Jessica hid many secrets about herself, including that fine edge of her temper.
He resented his need to nudge that temper and reveal the woman she hid….
Jessica stood and went to stare at the fire in the grate. Her voice was soft and reflective. “I don’t want anything to happen to her—Willow is special. Just name your price and protect her. But don’t let her know—and don’t…don’t get involved with her. You’re not a match. I’ll pay whatever you want. Just take care of whomever is bothering her. She won’t tell me exactly what’s happening, but several incidents have happened that I think indicate someone is threatening her. And she’s distracted. Something is very wrong. She’s innocent and men like you—I can handle someone as difficult as you, but she’s—Do not get romantically involved with her, and that’s an order—”
The ringing of a cell phone caused Jessica to stop; she impatiently reached for her jacket, taking a tiny upscale phone from her pocket. She answered in a curt businesslike tone. “Sterling.”
She frowned and turned from Alexi, then walked to the huge windows facing the ocean and spoke quietly, “Howard, I told you not to call me.”
After a silence Jessica said, “Don’t you dare come here. I am on personal leave that has nothing to do with the corporation. I am only to be reached for business emergencies, not because you are lonesome. You have a wife, remember?”
Alexi stared at the crackling fire. It wasn’t his business if Jessica Sterling had impatient lovers—
“Don’t you dare speak to me that way. I loved your father very much and Robert married me because he loved me. And you are nothing like him. It’s only been two years since he passed away and I think about him every day…. Listen, Howard, I was not…am not a trophy wife. Robert taught me how to run the company and I’m doing it. Don’t call back… Don’t you threaten me, Howard.”
Alexi frowned. Jessica’s husband was reportedly twice her age and “Junior” was old enough to have a wife. He seemed to want Jessica. She didn’t want to play and some jerk was trying to bully her—Impatiently, Alexi stood, walked to Jessica and took the cell phone from her.
“You heard the lady. Stop calling her. She’s with me…. I am Alexi Stepanov,” he said into the phone. He didn’t wait for the man sputtering at the other end of the line to recover before turning off the phone. Alexi handed it back to her—her eyes were wide and stunned, and he raised his fingertip to her chin, lifted slightly to close her slightly parted lips.
At that moment
