Chapter 7 #2
"Yes and no." She sighed. "I somehow seem to be tangled up with an unlikely someone. And I'm trying to avoid him."
"Married?"
"Of course not."
"He has a bunch of baby mamas."
"No."
"Are you going to keep me guessing?"
"He's rich."
Jessica's eyes brightened. "As far as I'm concerned that's a plus. Do go on."
"He's The McKenzie's grandson."
"McKenzie, the farm people. I did read something" Her eyes widened as she stared at her friend. "Good Lord. Dimitri Petrov!" She had to shout over the sudden applause going on. "I saw a pic of him in the papers. Honey, he's a god."
"He's not. He's annoying and arrogant and pushy." She took another sip of her drink. "And is probably waiting for me at home."
Jessica arched an eyebrow, her lips quirking into a sly smile. "At home? Since when do you let a man wait for you?"
Allison groaned, rolling her eyes. "It's not like that. I mean, I barely know him. But somehow, he's found his way into my space, my routine... even my thoughts." She fiddled with her napkin, cheeks tinged with embarrassment. "It's confusing, Jess. I don't know what I'm doing."
"Well, well, well." Jessica was delighted. "Someone has finally gotten under your skin."
"You don't have to be so pleased about it." She muttered. "And he's not under my skin. Oh, who the hell am I kidding? I'm hot for him and chances are, I'm going to do the wrong thing and sleep with him and then what?"
"And then you tell me in exacting details how he rates in bed." She grinned at the ferocious look her friend threw her. "Honey, why are you obsessing? It's not like you."
"None of it is like me. We just met and I want to tear his clothes off and feast on him."
"I would say that's a natural reaction. I've never met the guy other than seeing photos of him in several society magazines, but he's hot. I bet he's even hotter up close and personal. And he probably has an accent."
"He does." Allison groaned. "Not a very deep one, just there enough to make everything he says sound sexy." She closed her eyes briefly. "I don't know what to do."
"Has it been that long, that you have no idea how to perform? I could give you pointers, but I can safely assure you that as soon as you start, it comes right back."
"You're not helping." Allison told her darkly.
"You're overthinking things. The man is one of the most eligible bachelors in the world and he's single and interested in you. Most women including me and I happen to love my husband dearly, would jump at the chance to be with someone like that."
"I am not most women and that's the problem. He's been with several hundred of those women. I am not into harems. And casual sex is not something I'm good at. You know that."
"What if it's not casual?" The noise level had increased, sending vibrations through the crowded room.
"What do you mean?"
Jessica sent her friend a speculative look. "You're a beautiful woman and one who attracts most men. What if he wants more than a roll in the proverbial hay?"
Her heartbeat quickened, and she could not stop the hope that flared inside her chest. "Now, you're being ridiculous.
We're as different as night and day. He's not only from another country, but from another continent.
He's fabulously wealthy and he's Russian.
There's no way there could ever be anything lasting between us.
And I would be a fool to think that. Besides, I'm not interested in a relationship. "
"Aren't you? From where I'm sitting, it sounds like you're plenty interested." She leaned forward. "Not since Michael have I known you to be so flustered." Jessica gave her a thoughtful look. "As a matter of fact, you were never this flustered over him."
"That's" She blew out a breath and felt the pounding of her heart. "You're right." Lifting a hand, she rubbed her forehead. "I can't do this. I'm practical and sensible and always think before acting. This is a bad idea. And I have no idea what to do."
"Want my advice?"
She rolled her eyes. "I'm sure you're going to give it to me anyway."
"Take the plunge."
*****
He had known her a brief time but was beginning to know her very well. And realizing that, he was aware she was going to take a hell of a lot of time and convincing. He had studied her and in doing so, he realized she would avoid coming home at a reasonable time.
And he was proven right. When she had not turned up at eight, he smiled to himself, not in the least perturbed. He was a patient man, usually, and was going to wait her out.
He had decided on a course of action. One that was going to make her mad but suited him fine.
Parking the jeep around the back of her cottage, he walked up the cobbled driveway like a man out for a leisurely stroll.
The wind was whipping through the trees and for a lesser person, the icy cold would have them scurrying for cover.
He had put on a jacket to please his grandmother, a thin, elegant cashmere that reached his knees.
And had told her casually that he would be out for the night. His grandparents being the clever people they were, knew where he was headed and wisely did not mention it. He was armed with the necessary tools and was hoping fervently that the cottage was not shielded by some fancy alarm system.
Not that he couldn't get around it, if indeed it was, but he preferred simple and quiet.
Almost clapping his hands in anticipation when he reached the front door, he crouched and examined the lock, shaking his head at the plain design.
It did not appear he would have to use his fancy lock picking device.
A hair pin or any kind of pin would do. He was going to have a conversation with her about how easy it was to get inside.
What if he had been some pervert out to do her harm?
Cursing in Russian, he let himself in and had the good sense to lock the door behind him.
The foyer light was on, making it easy for him to pick his way through to the kitchen, where he placed the large picnic basket he had charmed the chef into packing.
Taking out the bottle of Costa Regal, he put it inside the wine cooler.
The rest of the items, he stored in the fridge and pantry.
Shedding his jacket and boots, he made his way into the living room and sat on one of the comfortable sofas, stretching his legs out.
The place suited her, he mused as he looked around.
Bold colors, burgundy and blue, antique furnishings, rugs instead of carpet, the board floor gleaming from the light shining through the thick drapes.
The place was neat, something that surprised him, considering she had little time to do housework, which meant she had someone coming in to take care of that aspect.
Putting his jacket and boots to the side, he eased into the sofa and stretched his legs out.
He was looking forward to her arrival. And the burst of anger when she discovered he had made his way inside.
*****
It was not disappointment, she told herself as she drove across the cobbled driveway and saw no sign of a vehicle.
It was relief. She had stayed at the club until after ten, with the intention of avoiding him.
Jessica had advised her to take the "plunge", but she had no intention of rushing into his arms.
If and when she was ready, it would be up to her. She wasn't going to stupidly fall into his arms like a ripe plum.
Pushing the lever into park, she sat there, drumming her fingers on the wheel, a frown touching her brow. So, all that talk about waiting no matter how long she took to get home was just that, talk. Well, she was relieved. If she had arrived and found him waiting, she would call the cops. Maybe.
Pushing the car door open, she stepped into the chill of the night. Slamming the door shut, she marched to the back and hauled out the briefcase. She had work to do before her court appearance in the morning. So, it was just as well he hadn't shown up.
Fishing her key out, she wondered for the hundredth time if she should change the lock to one of those smart ones with a keypad.
She was just going to have to find the time to get someone out here to handle that part of it.
But for now, it wasn't a priority. Letting herself in, she shrugged out of the jacket and meticulously hung it on the coat tree.
Next came her boots, which she placed in the closet.
Habit had her going straight to the kitchen.
The large picnic basket resting on the cream and pink counter had her stopping and staring.
A picnic basket? What the hell was it doing here?
Walking further into the room, she opened the fridge and wondered if she was having memory loss.
There were items there she was sure she had not bought.
Brie, what looked like thinly sliced roast beef, plump green, and purple grapes.
More cheese, strawberries and rosy tomatoes.
Slamming the door shut, she yanked open the pantry door and saw several loaves of bread. French and Italian.
"I wasn't sure which you preferred, so I went with both."
There was no mistaking the deep slightly accented voice or her first reaction to it.
Closing the door slowly, she took a breath and then another before turning to face him.
The damn man had one broad shoulder propped against the doorjamb, hands tucked into the pockets of his ash gray dress pants, and he was smiling!
"How did you get in?"
"I picked your lock. We need to talk about how easy it is for someone to get in and how careless you are. The place is pretty isolated, and you do live alone. I know the neighborhood is safe"
"You picked the lock."
"It was distressingly easy to do." He anticipated her reaction and managed to dodge the tin of sweet corn aimed for his head.