by Cait London
“Depends. You’ve been researching me for this past week. Why?”
Those green eyes caught fire and then slid downward, shielding her expression. Alexi reached out to capture her chin and lift it. “I asked you a question.”
Beneath his thumb, her skin was creamy and cool with mist. The scent of rain clung to her, fresh and even more alluring than perfume. But he felt the heat beneath the surface, the nick of anger as she tensed, her eyes slowly opening to his, boldly holding his. He didn’t intend to stroke that flawless cheek, surprised as his thumb moved, contrasting the texture and color of this woman’s fine skin.
“I’m not ready to answer,” Jessica said slowly, huskily, as she raised her hand to push his away from her face. She stepped back as though she disliked being too close and, taking her time, circled the room. Rooms without doors led off the main room. A damp, chilly draft lifted a curl beside her cheek and she impatiently brushed it away.
She walked around the buckets that caught rain dripping from the ceiling. “Nice. You’re remodeling this for your father. He’ll probably want some kind of little shed, some livestock in the few acres attached to this place…maybe a garden. A man from the country usually wants those things. Why are you remodeling this place, and not your brother? Didn’t Danya want to come? Or did you need to get away from Venus and a love gone wrong? Your fiancée married someone else, didn’t she? That must have been difficult for you. Is that really the reason you’re in Amoteh, remodeling this place and tending bar? Changing your life?”
Alexi resented her prowling through his life, his emotions, and pinpointing his plans. “You tell me. You’re the one who’s been researching. You called some friends, pretending we’d been involved. If I checked the resort’s records, your outgoing calls would probably coincide with the calls to Wyoming. You should have tried my cousins, Jarek or Mikhail—they live right here. But then, you didn’t want them to know that you were asking questions, did you? It was safer to use another name…what was it? Mimi Julian, wasn’t it?”
Jessica shrugged away his question and turned to him. “I wanted to see if you were the right man for what I have in mind. I know that you’ll be staying here, working on this until you have it livable. From the looks of it, you’ll be a while.”
She shivered slightly, but stepped over a mound of odd wood pieces and walked toward a doorway leading into the kitchen and pantry area. She lifted aside the temporary plastic and looked inside the darkness. Though still without plumbing and cabinets, the room overlooked the ocean. There Viktor, Alexi’s widowed father, could sip his Russian tea and watch the waves, feeling as if he had a little bit of his homeland.
Alexi watched her move back toward him, graceful, purposeful, taking her time before she hit her target. What did she want?
He shrugged mentally, and thought of other times that women on the prowl who were fascinated with the Western male image had approached him. What did she want, other than the obvious—a rich widow wanting a little playtime, a little physical diversion before she went back to the suit-clad corporate world?
The wind pushed at the plastic he’d tacked over the sunroom’s old windows, howling around the corners of the house as Jessica came to stand in front of him.
She tilted her head and a long waving length of chestnut hair slid to her throat.
Alexi resisted the urge to ease that gleaming strand away from the pale smooth length, and met her searching look.
Those dark green eyes studied him coolly as she tapped her finger on a length of board. “You think I want you for a lover, don’t you?” she asked quietly. “Well, I don’t. I’m not in the market. This is business.”
Women like Jessica Sterling were usually motivated by business. It ruled their lives. Alexi nodded and said, “I’m listening.”
“You’re wondering why I’m here. I’ll answer—I need someone exactly like you, and you’re on site, so to speak. You know the people in Amoteh and they like you. Last year you and your brother, Danya, came into town to visit Mikhail and, gee whiz, when you left, so did a real mean troublemaker, Lars Anders. I think there is a connection between your departure and his. His removal from Amoteh was quiet and neat and Lars hasn’t been back since. Then there was the little girl who was kidnapped and saved by you, the publicity kept at a minimum to safeguard her privacy. There were one or two incidents in your local newspaper’s archives, including your support of an abused women’s shelter—and I’d say that was more than financial support. It probably included a little muscle.”
She stuck her hands in her pockets and shivered. “It’s freezing in here…. I think you’d be perfect for what I need done. You can be discreet, quiet—and if you take the job, well-paid. Are you interested?”
Alexi Stepanov would be perfect to safeguard Willow, Jessica’s friend.
Like the other Stepanov males Jessica had met, Alexi was absolutely trustworthy, an ethical man, one with old-fashioned values.
But Alexi had bitter edges encircling him and she sensed his immediate distrust. Why?
Towering over her five-foot-eight inches, Alexi’s lean muscular body was sheathed in a shearling coat, worn jeans and well-worn laced workman’s boots. In a hard-weathered face, those narrowed cold, gray eyes, locked jaw and firmly pressed lips said he didn’t like her.
He didn’t have to; he just had to do the job she needed—to protect Willow.
The wind howled and Jessica tried to forget her chilled body; she hadn’t expected he’d lead her so far—“You intended me to follow you, didn’t you?”
He nodded, his dark brown waving hair gleaming in the lamplight. The shaggy length just touched his shoulders, a contrast to his neatly clipped cousin, Mikhail. The waves did nothing to soften his jutting facial bones, those fiercely drawn dark brows.
Alexi’s hard expression now revealed none of his other cousin, Jarek’s, easygoing qualities. According to Amoteh gossip, Mikhail and Jarek doted on their wives and children and loved their parents, Mary Jo and Fadey Stepanov. From what Jessica had seen of Alexi playing with the children and laughing with his relatives, he was also a family man.
In contrast, his defenses had definitely been raised when they had danced, a silent cold shield seeming to drop between them.
His eyes had caught her. In the brighter light between the New Year’s Eve dances, they were a cold, brilliant blue. But in the shadows, the shade had become silvery, almost like ice—or steel.
At the tavern he’d moved expertly behind the massive bar, the variety of bottles glittering on the shelf behind him, the mirror reflecting that hard face—the stare directly into her shaded corner, penetrating the privacy she wished while observing him….
She’d almost felt the waves of his dislike across the music of the jukebox, the ocean churning outside, the men talking quietly.
But that didn’t concern Jessica, only the need to protect her friend Willow. “If you knew enough to lead me here, you knew I wanted to talk with you. We could have had this conversation at the resort, but instead, you had me follow you. You prefer your terms, you like to be in control, and you’re perverse, Mr. Stepanov.”
“No, just careful.”
“You’re more than that. You don’t trust me, do you?”
His nod was curt, those blue-gray eyes cutting at her in the dim light, appraising her. His disdaining gaze ran down, then up her body. She knew what he saw—expensive clothes, a woman used to spas and wealth and getting what she wanted.
And she wanted him.
“You could say that,” he said in that deep careful drawl that spoke of his Western roots, though she knew that as the child of Russian immigrants, he was fluent in that language.
Jessica didn’t care what he thought of her. She’d battled for her position as head of Sterling Stops, a quick-shop chain, dismissing gossip that she’d married her second husband for his fortune. Her first husband had been the result of an impetuous teenage marriage, and from him she’d learned to stay away from very physical
men—like Alexi.
In business, she knew how to fight above and below the board table. She knew how to cut short taunts and how to ignore them. In life, she knew how rough a frustrated young husband could be with a teenage bride—and yet a second, older husband could love her so much she could almost forget her desperate past, that everyday struggle to survive. “Then do. Please do. Say that you don’t trust me.”
“What do you want?” The question shot at her like a bullet.
Jessica tried not to shiver, but the dampness and freezing chill had seeped into her flesh. “I need your services.”
A corner of his hard mouth lifted and there was a flicker of disdain in his silver eyes. “Do you?”
“Stop playing games. Are you available or not?”
This time, warmth slid into his eyes, his mouth softening just that bit. “You must be determined to go the distance in this bad weather. You’re freezing, soaked through and shivering in that expensive, too-light jacket. You’re expecting me to take off my coat and offer it to you, aren’t you? That would be the thing for a gentleman to do, wouldn’t it, Mrs. Sterling? But then, I’m only a bartender, aren’t I? A man for hire?”
Those hard blue-gray eyes slid down then up her body once more. Alexi’s temporary warmth shifted suddenly into a cold, hard statement. “Take off that coat. It’s wet and you’re freezing.”
“No, thanks. I can manage.”
He studied her comfortable but light leather shoes, one tiny strap torn free. “You weren’t planning to come after me tonight, were you? Why did you?”
Jessica had been coming from the kitchen, carrying a filled plate to her suite; she’d intended to eat while she watched a favorite movie. Then she’d seen Alexi move down the corridor. He’d been wearing that heavy coat—how she envied him now—but her curiosity had kept her in the shadows. A man with a lover wouldn’t do. Pillow talk with another woman could endanger Willow. If he was seeing a woman, involved with someone, Jessica wanted to know and she’d decided to follow him.
She should have waited. Dressed in a light sweater, lounging jacket and pants, she hadn’t been prepared to do anything other than walk through the luxurious hallways to the kitchen.
Then, unexpectedly, Alexi Stepanov had swept through the hallway—tall, brooding, dangerous, and perfect to protect Willow.
He had deliberately led Jessica through a freezing night and a rough path. Her usual chignon had torn free beneath the hood and she’d impatiently ripped away the pins. Few people saw her with her hair unconfined or mussed; she resented that Alexi had studied her hair, inspecting it on his finger.
A man who caught the smallest detail, who noticed everything, was exactly what she wanted. But not this close and not her.
“I didn’t expect that—no. I was hoping for a quiet corner for a discussion.”
“You’ve got that now.”
Her feet were freezing! A shiver ran through her before she could hide it.
Alexi inhaled impatiently and then his hand was at her chest, tugging down the zipper. Once free, he tugged the jacket off of her and tossed it aside.
In the next instant she was inside his coat and pressed against him. “Okay, now talk,” he ordered briskly.
Panic gripped her and before she could retrieve her composure, Alexi had caught her fear, studying her.
“I’m only sharing body warmth, Mrs. Sterling,” he said gently, without the sarcasm she’d expected. Those silvery eyes slid down to her throat, where she was certain her racing pulse could be seen. His voice was husky and soft. “Don’t be afraid.”
She’d been a teenager on her first wedding night and trapped by a man who—who wasn’t her gentle second husband. Jessica pushed back the fear that could leap through the years, pursuing her if a man came too close. “I…of course I’m not. You’re mistaken. I’m only a little cold.”
“That admission must have cost you.” Was that a little humor in those cold eyes, the slight softening of those hard lips?
Dangerous. Quick. A hunter tuned to his senses. Sleek. Powerful. Male. The words danced through her mind, but Jessica forced herself to stand rigidly within his arms, her hands at her sides.
He was looking too closely at her, invading that tight secret core she held very private and safe.
Within inches of her face, Alexi’s was even harder. He was scented of soap and man, of the elements outside, of a predator circling her, setting her on edge.
Intent on relaxing in front of her suite’s television set, Jessica hadn’t bothered with a bra beneath her light sweater. Neither the light sweater or his black sweatshirt softened his body’s hard impact against hers.
“Settle down, Mrs. Sterling,” he whispered, and the rumble of his deep voice vibrated against her body.
This man knew exactly what to do with a woman in his arms. He knew how to hold, to look, how to be gentle…. Jessica forced herself to look up at him and tried to push aside her fear of a man holding her. Alexi was too close, too strong, too masculine. “I think we should confer at another time.”
He lifted that black eyebrow, challenging her. “I’m a busy man. Now is good.”
If she told the wrong man, she could endanger Willow, the only friend she really trusted.
The wind howled outside and, without looking, Alexi said, “It’s changed back to snow. The ground will be covered soon—ice beneath the snow.”
“If you knew that I wanted to talk with you, you could have made this easier.”
“I wanted to know your limits—how badly you wanted me. You do want me, don’t you, Mrs. Sterling?”
She resented the sexual inference and anger ripped at her senses. “You’re toying with me. I don’t like it.”
“Just testing that temper, and you’ve got one for sure. It might keep you warm on the trip back, but you won’t get a second chance at me. Simmer down.”
“And just stand here? Next to you?” she demanded.
He shrugged lightly. “You have choices. If you don’t want what I have to offer—leave.”
“Mikhail wouldn’t like for you not to help a guest in need.”
His expression hardened. “Or a woman looking for—entertainment?”
Wasn’t that what Heather, his ex-fiancée, had called him—“Entertainment until better things came along?”
Alexi didn’t like what his senses were telling him—that Jessica Sterling was soft and fragrant and all woman. His senses told him that he liked her in his arms—that soft, curved body against his—that he wanted to taste those lush lips.
He wanted to burn away the years of abstinence, to move with her, in her, slick and hot and—
And his body was hardening, a physical reaction to her body against his—
Oh, no. Not that again. His mind flashed big warning signals at him. He’d been burned by another woman, just like this one—perfectly painted and groomed and expensive and spoiled. He’d jumped through hoops, been almost stripped of his savings and resources to please a woman like this, and past the momentary sexual gratification, there was no satisfying Heather’s whims—
And he’d lost a measure of his pride, a commodity the Stepanov men held dear.
Alexi stepped back and stared at Jessica, fighting the hard throb of his body and the knowledge that women like this knew how to strip a man of everything—including his pride. He’d almost given in to that helpless, terrified look—like a little wounded bird needing help and comfort.
He’d felt the tremor of her body, her panic as he held her. That soft, female body—
With a contemptuous sidelong look, Jessica turned away, her arms tight around herself. “You really don’t like me, do you?” she asked quietly, the wind’s howl almost swallowing her words.
“Does it matter?” Alexi removed his coat and placed it over her shoulders. Before he could stop his hand, he reached to lift that heavy silky hair up and over the collar. His fingers crushed the strands momentarily, possessively, but he forced them open and away.
Jessica eased her arms into the sleeves and allowed him to turn her and button the coat. “Thank you,” she said tightly, as if the courtesy grated. “I’ll return it to you in just a moment.”
He turned the collar up around her face, needing to touch her hair, her cheek, just once more. She looked like a child, huddled into his too-large coat. A very expensive, spoiled and angry child who didn’t trust him.
“Let’s cut to the chase, shall we?” she asked, and moved away from him, staring out into the snowflakes sliding down the window’s plastic coverings.
“Are your feet cold?” he asked, while his mind prowled around why this woman would leave the warmth, security and luxury of the Amoteh Resort to follow him on a winter night as bitter and treacherous as this one.
Jessica pivoted to him, a myriad of color—reddish hair, flashing green eyes and flushed face. The emeralds on her hand glittered as she swept it out, a gesture that dismissed his question. “You need money. I have it. I need a job done and you’re the first on my list to do it. My late husband always said, pick the right man for the job. I think that’s you.”
That grated, and Alexi leaned against the wall, folded his arms over his chest and waited. “What brings you to any conclusion about my needs?”
“You may be remodeling this now, but you’re making tentative probes on property—probably to start a new life away from Wyoming. You sometimes tend bar at the Seagull’s Perch…the owner is getting ready to retire. Two and two say you’re looking at buying—if you can. I just might be able to help you do that.”
“That’s a lot of information. Did you hire someone for all that? Or did you just dig it up yourself?”
“Give me credit. I have resources and I don’t like to fence. Either you’re interested or you’re not.” She picked up a towel between her hands and studied it. As if satisfied, she sat on a low bench, kicked off her shoes and wrapped the towel around her bare feet. She chafed them briskly and watched him. “It’s freezing in here. Make up your mind.”
