when I go to Russia with your brother, sometimes I wonder if there is more than being a doctor in a well-equipped city hospital.’
‘You’re not happy at work?’
‘I’m very happy at work,’ Ross corrected. ‘Sometimes, though, I feel hemmed in—often I feel hemmed in. I just broke up with someone because of it.’ He gave her a wry smile. ‘I’m supposed to be sworn off women.’
‘I’m not good at hemming.’
Ross laughed. ‘I can’t picture you with a needle.’ And then he was serious. ‘Romanys have this image of being cads—that is certainly my mother’s take. I understand that, but really they are loyal to commitment, and virginity is important to them, which is why they often marry young …’ He gave an embarrassed half-laugh. ‘There is more to them than I understand …’
‘And you need to find out?’
‘I think so,’ Ross answered. ‘Maybe that is why I get on with the orphans in Russia. I am much luckier, of course, but I can relate to them—to that not knowing, never fully knowing where you came from. I don’t know my father’s history.’
‘You could have a touch of Russian in you!’ Annika smiled.
‘Who knows?’ Ross smiled. ‘Do you go back to Russia?’
She shook her head. ‘Levander does, Iosef as you know does work there …’
‘Aleksi?’ Ross asked.
‘He goes, but not for work …’ She gave a shrug. ‘I don’t really know why. I’ve just never felt the need to.’
‘You speak Russian, though?’
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘Only a little—a very little compared to my family.’
‘You have an accent.’
‘Because I refused to speak Russian …’ She smiled at his bemusement. ‘I was a very wilful child. I spoke Russian and a little English till I was five, and then I realised that we lived in Australia. I started to say I didn’t understand Russian—that I only understood English, wanted to speak English.’ He smiled at the image of her as a stubborn five-year-old. ‘It infuriated my mother, and my teacher … I learnt English from Russians, which is why I have an accent. Do you speak Spanish?’
‘Not as much as I’d like to.’
‘You’re going in a couple of weeks?’
‘Yeah.’ And he told her—well, bits … ‘Mum’s upset about it. I think she’s worried I’m going to find my real father and set up camp with him. Run away and leave it all behind …’
‘Are you?’
‘No.’ Ross shook his head. ‘I’d like to meet him, get to know him if I can find him. I only have his first name.’
‘Which is?’
‘Reyes,’ Ross said, and then he gave her a little part of him that he didn’t usually share. ‘That’s actually my real name.’
‘I lived with my father. Every day I saw him,’ Annika said, giving back a little part of herself, ‘but I don’t think I knew him at all.’
‘I know about Levander.’ He watched her swallow. ‘I know that Levander was raised in the Detsky Dom.’
‘Iosef shouldn’t talk.’
‘Iosef and I have spent weeks—no, months, working in Russian orphanages. It’s tough going there—sometimes you need to talk. He hates that Levander was raised there.’
‘My parents were devastated when they found out …’ She was glad she’d read that press release now. ‘On his deathbed my father begged that we set up the foundation …’ Her voice cracked. She was caught between the truth and a lie, and she didn’t know what was real any more. ‘We are holding a big fundraiser soon. If nursing doesn’t work out then I am thinking of working full-time on the board …’
‘Organising fundraisers?’
‘Perhaps.’ She shrugged. ‘I’ll get dessert …’
‘You made these?’ He couldn’t believe it. He took a bite and couldn’t believe it again—and then he said the completely wrong thing. ‘You’re wasted as a nurse.’
And he saw her eyes shutter.
‘I’m sorry, Annika; I didn’t mean it like that.’
‘Don’t worry.’ She smiled. ‘You’re probably right.’
‘Not wasted …’
‘Just leave it.’
‘I can’t leave it,’ Ross said, and her eyes jerked up to his. ‘But I ought to.’
‘At least till I have finished on the ward,’ Annika said, and her throat was so tight she didn’t know how to swallow, and her chocolate box sat unopened.
‘I’ll be in Spain,’ Ross said.
‘Slow is good.’ Annika nodded. ‘I don’t want to rush.’
‘So we just put it on hold?’ Ross checked, and she nodded. ‘Just have dinner?’ He winced. ‘When I say just …
‘Maybe one kiss goodnight,’ Annika relented, because Elsie would be so disappointed otherwise.
‘Sounds good,’ Ross said. ‘Now or later?’
‘You choose.’
Four hours of preparation: tempering the chocolate, slicing the boxes, choosing the best raspberries. And the mousse recipe was a complicated one. All that work, all those hours, slipped deliciously away as he pulled her across the table and her breast sank into her own creation.
His tongue tasted better than anything she could conjure. They both had to stretch, but it was worth it. He tasted of chocolate, and then of him. His hair was in her fingers and she was pressing her face into him, the scratch of his jaw, the press of his lips. She wanted more, so badly she almost climbed onto the table just to be closer, but it was easier to stand. Lips locked, they kissed over the table, and then did a sort of crab walk till they could properly touch—and touch they did.
The most touching it was possible to do with clothes on and standing. She felt his lovely bum, and his jeans, and she pressed him into her. It was still just a kiss, one kiss, but it went on for ever.
‘Oh, Annika,’ he said, when she pulled back for a gulp of air, and then he saw the mess on her top and set to work.
‘That’s not kissing …’ He was kissing her breast through the fabric, sucking off the mousse and the cream, and her fingers were back in his hair.
‘It is,’ he said.
And the raspberries had made the most terrible stain, so he concentrated
