clasped her around the waist and brought her down into his lap.
Julia struggled at first. “Stop,” she said, wriggling against him. “What are you trying to do?”
He let her struggle, but her efforts were weak. His arms were around her and he felt her yielding. Taking advantage of her acquiescence, he brushed his face against her hair. She’d left it down, at his request, and he gathered the length of it in his hands, loving its clean jasmine scent.
“Alek, are you insane?”
He dropped a trail of moist kisses along her throat and shoulder. “That’s better,” he whispered as her tight muscles relaxed. “Much better.”
“I…I don’t think we should be doing this.”
“What?” he asked as his hand caressed her back in a slow, soothing motion. “This?” He eased her against the chair until her hair spilled over his arm. A sigh escaped her as he pressed his lips to hers.
Julia felt hot, then cold and shaky in his embrace, but no more so than he. They’d kissed a handful of times and each had been a battle for him. His wife had balked at his touch in the beginning, then gradually she’d opened herself to him until he was so needy he ached.
This time the skirmish between them was over even before it started. Julia accepted his kiss with little more than a token protest. Perhaps she was ready for more.…
He broke off the kiss and told her how badly he needed her. He pleaded with her as only a man who needs his wife can implore. It wasn’t until he saw the confusion in her eyes that he realized he’d spoken in his native tongue. His English was hopeless just then.
Julia’s fingers were digging into his shoulders. He felt the rapid beat of her heart and heard the ragged echo of her breath as it rasped in his ear.
The doorbell chimed and Alek would have ignored it if Julia hadn’t frozen and then jumped from his lap as though she’d caught fire.
“Oh, my goodness,” she cried. Her face was a rich shade of red as she swept back her hair. “The interviewer is here.” She stared at him as if he had the magical power to make everything right.
“That would be my guess.”
“Alek.” Her voice shook as she quickly adjusted her clothes. “I’m scared.”
“Don’t be. Everything will be fine,” he said. He gave her a moment to fuss with her hair before he stood, kissed her lightly on the lips and answered the door.
Although Alek appeared outwardly composed, he was as shaken as Julia. And not because their future hung in the balance. His head reeled with the aftershock of their kissing. A few kisses, he’d thought, to take the edge off their nervousness. In another five minutes, he would’ve carried her to his bed.…
“Hello,” Alek said, opening the door to admit a lanky, official-looking gentleman. He wore a crisp business suit and from the tight set of his mouth, Alek guessed he would brook no foolishness. His expression was sharp and unfriendly.
“Patrick O’Dell,” he said.
“My name is Alek and this is my wife, Julia,” Alek said.
Julia stood on the far side of the room, her smile fleeting and strained. “Welcome to our home, Mr. O’Dell. Would you care to sit down?”
“Thank you.” He moved into the living room and didn’t pause to look at the view. Indeed, there might not have been one for all the notice O’Dell took. He sat on the recliner they’d recently vacated and set his briefcase on the coffee table.
Alek walked over to Julia’s side and held her hand in his. Together they ventured to the sofa opposite the interviewer and sat down.
Mr. O’Dell removed a file from his briefcase. He scanned the contents, then frowned with clear disapproval. “How did you two meet?”
“Through my brother,” Julia said quickly. “He’d met Alek several years earlier while he was in Europe. They corresponded for a number of years and then after the fire…” She hesitated and turned to Alek.
“Jerry offered me a job in this country almost three years ago. I’ve lived here for the past two.”
“Tell me about your work.”
Alek answered the questions thoroughly, while minimizing his importance to Conrad Industries. No need to raise suspicions.
“Alek is a gifted biochemist,” Julia added with unnecessary enthusiasm. “The company was nearly ruined a few years back following the fire I mentioned. I don’t know what would’ve become of us if it hadn’t been for Alek.”
Although he smiled, Alek was groaning inwardly. Julia was offering far more information than necessary. He wished now that they’d gone over what they planned to say. Jerry had advised them to do so, but Alek had felt spontaneity would serve them better than a series of practiced responses.
“In other words, you needed Mr. Berinski.”
“Yes, very much so.” Julia was nothing if not honest.
“Do you continue to need him?” the interviewer pressed.
“No,” Alek answered before Julia could.
“I disagree,” she returned, looking briefly at Alek. “I find we need him more than ever now. The new line of paints Alek’s been working on for the past two years is ready to be marketed. That’s only the beginning of the ideas he’s developing.”
Alek’s concern mounted as O’Dell made a notation. Julia really was as bad at pretense as she’d claimed.
“My husband has worked hard on this project. He deserves to reap the fruits of his labors.” Fortunately, Julia didn’t stumble over the word husband. She’d said it a number of times since their marriage and it always seemed to cause her difficulty.
“You give me more credit than I deserve, my dear,” he murmured, feeling they’d dug themselves into a pit.
“Nonsense,” Julia said, obviously warming to her subject. “Alek is a genius.”
Another notation.
Alek squeezed Julia’s fingers, willing her to stop speaking, but the more he tried to discourage her, the more she went on.
“If you two held each other in such high esteem, why did you wait until Alek’s visa had almost expired before you agreed to marry?”
“Love isn’t always planned,” Julia answered quickly. “No one completely understands matters of the heart, do they? I know I didn’t.” She glanced shyly toward Alek.
“I understand why the Immigration department is suspicious of our marriage,” Alek added. “We realized you would be when we decided to go ahead and marry. It didn’t make any difference.”
Another notation, this one made with sharp jagged movements of his pen.
There were several more questions, which they answered as forthrightly as possible. Alek was
