We stop at the rail to admire the view. Alex leans one elbow on the rail and drapes his other arm around my waist. As always, his closeness seduces my senses, making everything else seem insignificant. Not even the view can compete with him, although the vista is magnificent.
“This is spectacular,” I say.
“I’m glad you like it,” William replies. “I had the house built five years ago when I moved here from Oakland.”
Alex casts a practiced glance toward the horizon, his blue eyes alert as he takes in the surroundings. Seemingly satisfied with his visual evaluation, he checks his phone before saying, “I’ll go check if Laura needs help in the kitchen.”
“Kate?” William says when Alex is gone.
I abandon the vista to look at him.
“I want you to know that you have nothing to be worried about where your mom is concerned. We like each other.” A smile appears on his lips. “A lot. I love her optimism and her zest for life. She’s an amazing woman. I also realize she’s a bit of a free spirit, so I have no intention of rushing her into anything.”
He seems so sincere I can’t help but believe him. “That’s good to know.”
“When I take my vacation this summer, I’d like to visit her in New York City. I was hoping we”—he waves between us—“me and you, could also get to know each other better. I know you’re busy. Your mom has told me about your job.”
I return his smile. “I’d like that.”
“Great.” He utters a soft laugh. “I don’t want to give you the wrong impression, like I’m rushing things when I said I wouldn’t, but my kids will be in Florida. Maybe we can all go down there and spend a weekend together? I’d love for both you and your mom to meet them. And Alex, of course.”
Brushing the windblown wisps of hair off my face, I say, “I’ll keep that in mind when I plan my summer shifts.” That is, if I’m back at work by then. “I’m sure I can finagle a long weekend.”
“Wonderful.” He raps the rail. “Shall we go inside where it’s warm?”
When we get back to the kitchen, my mom and Alex have finished unpacking the bags.
“What do you think?” she asks under her breath as William pours us organic grape juice while Alex keeps him company.
“He seems really nice,” I say sincerely.
She’s all but glowing. “I knew you’d like him.”
“Here you go,” William says, handing us each a glass of juice. “Homemade from Californian grapes.”
We spend an agreeable half hour together, sipping our drinks in the kitchen while we warm up Tima’s dishes and William adds the finishing touches to the ones he prepared. I listen attentively as he tells me about the program and its development. On a personal level, everything regarding Mom’s welfare concerns me, and on a professional level, I find the medical information fascinating.
Our lunch stretches well into the afternoon. It’s dusk when we finally thank William, say our goodbyes, and drive back.
Despite the amiable afternoon, I can’t shake my tenseness when we arrive at the clinic. Knowing me as well as she does, my mom picks up on it.
“Is everything all right?” she asks as we enter the foyer.
“Yes,” I say, smiling for her benefit. I hate myself for lying to my mom. “Everything is perfect.”
Surprisingly, I sleep well and wake up rested the following morning. I thought the anxiety would keep me tossing and turning all night.
Other than opening my eyes, I don’t move. Alex is lying on his back, still asleep. I use the opportunity to study him. His face doesn’t carry the tenseness that strains his features during the day. For once, he looks relaxed. Stubble darkens his jaw. His eyelashes are long for a man, softening the straight, harsh lines of his strong bone structure. He looks vulnerable in his sleep. The way my heart squeezes reminds me just how susceptible I am to him.
Trying to be quiet, I slip out of the bed, but the minute I stand up, Alex opens his eyes. The unguarded smile he gives me is my undoing. His blue eyes are soft with sleep yet piercing as he evaluates me. A feeling like a flapping of wings stirs in my chest.
“Sleep well?” he asks in a bed-sexy voice.
“Yes, actually.” I glance at him from under my lashes as I dig through my bag for clothes. “You?”
He shifts up and rests his head on the headboard to watch me. “Like a baby.” His lips quirk. “Like always when I sleep next to you.”
My gaze is drawn to the sexy curve of those lips. My reply is meant as a clever comeback, but my voice sounds embarrassingly breathy. “With the emphasis on sleep. I’m surprised you didn’t jump on me when we went to bed.”
That quirk stretches into a lazy smile. “You sound disappointed.”
Rolling my eyes, I head for the bathroom.
“Katyusha.”
I stop in my tracks.
His voice is apologetic. “I wish we could stay longer, but we have to leave today.”
I didn’t expect otherwise, but the news is nevertheless disappointing. “When?”
“After breakfast.”
I nod. “I’ll be ready.”
When I’ve finished getting dressed in the bathroom, I step back into the room. Alex is on the phone, speaking to someone in Russian. He’s still in his pajama bottoms, pacing the floor. I can’t help but stare at the broad, well-defined expanse of his chest and the flat ridges of his stomach.
He places a hand over the microphone of his phone. “You go ahead, my love. I’ll follow later.”
Igor is waiting outside our door to escort me downstairs. I find my mom on the terrace having breakfast.
“There you are,” she says when she notices me. “Where’s that sweet man of yours?”
“On the phone. He’ll be down shortly.”
“He sounds like a workaholic.” She scoots to the side. “I hope you don’t mind that I started breakfast without you, but I thought you might sleep in.”
Taking the chair next to her, I say, “Alex doesn’t want to get home too late. I’m afraid we have to leave after breakfast.”
“He’s very conscientious.”
If only she knew.
I’m half done with my breakfast when Alex arrives. The minute he walks through the doors, everyone looks. He has that effect on people. It’s not just his imposing height or potently masculine features. It’s the self-assured way he carries himself.
He offers us a smile and makes his way over. Despite the friendly gesture, the tension is back on his face. The square line of his jaw is more pronounced from the way he always clenches it a little, and his eyes are tight with awareness. He seems permanently vigilant, forever on his guard.
“Good morning, Laura.” He takes in my mother. “You look beautiful. I really like that new hairstyle on you.”
She pats her hair. “Why, thank you. What a charming man you are. Have a seat.”
When he puts a hand on my shoulder, my body takes notice. Awareness tingles in my nerve endings and travels down my arm as goosebumps run over my skin under my sweater.
“If you don’t mind, I’ll grab a quick breakfast in the lounge,” he says. “I have business to take care of. Besides, I robbed you of Katerina yesterday. You deserve to have her all to yourself this morning.”