Hold Me Tight: Heartbreakers

by Cait London

  Jessica picked up Alexi’s boots and his coat and the leather work gloves she found on the table, and walked to the door.

  She opened it slowly to the three tall men standing in the cluttered, cold sunroom. “Hi,” she said softly, drowsily, and hoped she sounded as if she’d just come from Alexi’s bed—which she had. She eased around Alexi, who was blocking the doorway and her stage entrance to make his life hell—at least for a short time.

  Obviously, Alexi did not want his cousins to know that Jessica had stayed the night. What he didn’t want was perfect to expose…

  Jarek and Mikhail Stepanov, in heavy jackets and work clothes stared at her—then at Alexi.

  Jessica faked a drowsy yawn and batted her lashes innocently up at Alexi. Beneath his eyebrows, and the frown line between them, his blue eyes narrowed. His lips pressed firmly, angrily, in that dark, stubble-covered jaw.

  “Good morning, Alexi,” she murmured in an intimate lovers’-morning-after tone.

  Mikhail’s body stiffened, but the quick movement of his lips was a smile, soon hidden. While Alexi stood, silent and forbidding, Mikhail nodded formally. “Good morning, Jessica.”

  Jarek grinned widely. “Yes, good morning.”

  Jessica walked to Alexi and thoroughly enjoyed his fierce scowl. “Here you go,” she said lightly, and dropped the boots intentionally close to his sock-covered feet. She handed the jacket and gloves to him, then yawned and stretched. “Did I hear something mentioned about breakfast?”

  The quick narrowing of Alexi’s eyes was meant to warn, so was the slapping of the leather gloves against his hand. Instead she took the gestures as a challenge.

  “You are not invited, Mrs. Sterling,” he said carefully.

  “Oh, I’m disappointed. I was hoping to spend more time with you.” She feigned an apologetic half smile and batted her lashes at him again, enjoying the waves of frustration and anger coming from Alexi. He would learn not to play games with her. “It was rude of me to invite myself.”

  “Not rude at all. Our parents would love to have you,” Mikhail said briskly.

  “Are you certain? Oh, that would be lovely. I would just be a minute freshening up, and I do need to make the bed.” Jessica looked up at Alexi. “But Alexi doesn’t want—”

  “He’ll feel better after he eats,” Jarek stated and, with a chuckle, stepped outside the door. With a brisk nod, Mikhail followed.

  Alexi jammed on his boots, laced them furiously and jerked on his coat, buttoning it. He scowled down at her, a muscle in his jaw clenching. “Now see what you have done. They think we are involved. You come out of my room, looking all soft and warm and—and you know exactly what picture you presented—as if we had spent the night making love. My family and friends have been trying to set me up with women for years. I have finally managed some peace, and now you tear it away. Once you move on, I will be left to deal with a steady flow of women wanting husbands—or lovers.”

  His desperation was perfect—she’d truly scored. “You’re so arrogant. I suppose you think you are in demand, huh, Mr. Sex Magnet?” she taunted, serving his earlier label back at him.

  “It would appear so. You want me, do you not?”

  Jessica tilted her head and refused to be baited. “When you’re emotional, your accent slips out.”

  “I am never emotional,” Alexi stated firmly.

  “Tell that to someone else. I’ve seen you at your worst.” Jessica smiled coldly and crossed her arms. “You called this game, Stepanov. I’m just playing it. You’re not exactly a sweetheart, and neither am I. I offered you a business deal. You haven’t given me an answer yet. But you will.”

  He scowled down at her, his fist wrapping in her jacket to draw her up to his face. “You do not play with me,” he ordered, spacing the words.

  “I want you to take care of Willow. Will you, and how much—or won’t you?”

  “Who is Howard?”

  She hadn’t expected the harsh question. “Someone I know.”

  “A married man who is pursuing you, just as you want.”

  “I never encouraged Howard. He’s my husband’s son, and he’s in an open marriage. Just because my husband—and I loved Robert—passed away, I’m not up for grabs.” Howard had started “pursuing” her the minute that he knew his father, Robert, was interested in Jessica. When Robert and Jessica had married, Howard had been bitter, an unseated heir to the chain of Sterling Stops. As Robert’s terminal illness had progressed, he’d put Jessica at the head of the company, rather than his self-serving son.

  Enraged, Howard had begun to battle her on two fronts, business and personal. When she dealt with him, Jessica was always very careful to consider that her husband had dearly loved his only son. She kept Howard involved in a minor position in Sterling Stops and monitored his work herself. He was overpaid for the position, ineffective and disinterested. As executrix of her husband’s estate, Jessica also monitored monthly payments to Howard and he resented her holding “Dad’s purse strings.”

  Remembering how Alexi had interfered with Howard’s call last night, Jessica said, “And I don’t need anyone’s protection—or interference. I handle my own business.”

  Alexi leveled a determined look at her. “I will not be your ‘business.’ You are to clear up any misconceptions immediately.”

  “You should have thought of that before you made me ruin these shoes.” She allowed herself a smirk. “Can’t you handle it, bud?”

  With a low, feral growl, he leaned closer. “I tell you again—do not play games with me.”

  His forearm brushed her breast and Alexi inhaled sharply, pushing her away. His stare ripped from her face down to her breasts, and for just a moment, sensuality quivered between them. Then his hard blue eyes locked with hers. “Keep that jacket on.”

  “Orders? I don’t like that. I give them, Stepanov, not take them.”

  When Alexi stormed out of the workroom, Jessica allowed herself a shaky but triumphant smile. He would do the job she asked, or she would make his life a living hell—and she thought she just might enjoy that.

  Jessica studied herself in Alexi’s shaving mirror. Her carefully applied cosmetics, her everyday protective shield behind which she ran a huge corporation, were gone—only the remains of her mascara lay smudged beneath her eyes. With a deep breath she looked at her choices from the table beneath the mirror. Willow’s unscented but luxurious soap and a clean washcloth revealed the woman Jessica protected—an almost pixie-ish face with huge green eyes framed by dark brown lashes, a brief bit of a nose, high cheekbones and full lips that she carefully tried to diminish.

  She used Alexi’s brush carefully, drawing back her long hair into a rubber band to create a ponytail.

  She looked like little more than a shiny-faced, scrubbed-clean teenager, with all the gloss and polish she had learned to protect herself placed aside. “Game time,” she said quietly, determined to finish what Alexi had started.

  Jessica studied herself in the mirror. “He could have given me a simple answer, and he didn’t. I wasted a lot of time and energy checking him out. He is the best man for the job, but if he wants a difficult game, I know how to play. Now, let’s just see what he’s got.”

  She stepped out onto the porch and shaded her eyes against the brilliant daylight ricocheting off the snow. Fresh lumber had been stacked against the house and three tall men, with evident family resemblances, stood waiting.

  Jarek and Mikhail nodded and walked toward the huge flatbed lumber truck.

  Alexi put his hands on his hips and stared coldly at her. When she came to stand in front of him, he looked down at the sweatshirt she had placed over her light jacket. That flare of his nostrils told her that she’d scored another hit to his temper by wearing his clothes. He glared at her, then down to her shoes. “I must carry you,” he stated resentfully.

  “Hey, I’ve got two feet,” she answered cheerfully. “I can walk. I take care of myself.”

  “I never believe
d in that Hawaiian’s curse, and now I do,” Alexi stated darkly. Then, carefully and with a hint of hope, he offered, “I could carry you to the resort. Or while you wait here, I could get different shoes for you and you could walk back. This has gone far enough.”

  She smiled brilliantly, thoroughly enjoying his discomfort. “I’ve opened the gate. Let the hordes of man-hungry women begin chasing you. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

  Alexi shook his head and closed his eyes as if wishing her far, far away. Then he bent and placed her over his shoulder, carrying her toward the truck. “You will keep that jacket zipped,” he ordered again.

  Jessica braced her hands on his taut backside to keep from flopping and to retain some small part of her dignity. Buddy, you asked for it, she thought, and tried for an innocent tone as she asked, “But what if I get hot? I’ll have to take it off then, won’t I?”

  She wouldn’t, of course, because without her minimizer bra, she was full-figured, and that didn’t suit the sleek business image she wanted to project. But Alexi didn’t know to what lengths she would go to embarrass him. At the moment, even being carried over his shoulder, Jessica knew she had the advantage.

  His body tensed, but he didn’t speak.

  Alexi briskly lifted her up to Mikhail who was seated in the middle of the truck; Jarek sat behind the steering wheel. Before Jessica could sit, Alexi had slid up to the seat and had tugged her onto his lap.

  “I’ve just met Alexi and he’s helping me with a problem,” Jessica said when the Stepanovs were all seated around Mary Jo and Fadey’s long, sturdy kitchen table.

  Alexi concentrated on the blueberry pancakes in front of him and tried to ignore Jessica’s scent. He tried to forget the way she had sat very stiffly on his lap, the blush rising up her cheeks.

  His hard arousal had been painful, the warm softness of her hips riding him over the bumpy road to the Stepanovs’. Her sharp look down at him said Jessica was feeling that sturdy sexual pressure, with only layers of cloth between the warm entrance of her body—

  The sight of his oversize sweatshirt on Jessica’s body had shaken him.

  He wanted that emerald wedding ring off her finger, and her wearing the mark of his possession.

  Alexi had partially rolled down the window despite the chill, needing fresh air to cool him. She had placed her hand on the top of the window’s glass, as if she, too, needed cooling. The huge set of emerald wedding rings had caught the light, shooting sparks and questions at him:

  Why should he care about a rich widow wearing another man’s rings?

  Why should he care that she asked nothing for herself, but for a friend?

  Why did he want more than anything to take her to his bed and make love to her and forget about everything else?

  Without ceremony, Alexi had carried her in his arms to the Stepanov house, a huge, jutting wooden-and-stone affair overlooking the Pacific Ocean. He had nodded to Fadey, his uncle, at the open doorway. Easing Jessica’s body carefully aside, Alexi had carried her into the spacious home.

  For a moment Alexi had held Jessica in his arms. He didn’t want to release her; his instincts said she was his, her eyes wide and green as new leaves upon him as if a stunning emotion ran through her. “Put me down,” she had whispered unevenly.

  But her hand had remained on his nape, her fingers slightly digging into his skin.

  In that heartbeat Alexi had known they both recognized the danger of the other.

  “Put me down,” she had whispered again, more urgently.

  “When I am ready.”

  She had glanced at the Stepanov family who was evidently enjoying the whispered exchange. “You are creating a scene, Stepanov.”

  “Am I? Tell me that you did not create one earlier.”

  Jessica had been the first to move out of their private battle arena. She had smiled at Fadey and extended her hand to shake his. “You must be Fadey Stepanov. I’ve heard so much about you. I love your furniture.”

  Fadey nodded, kissed the back of her hand and said formally, “Thank you. You are most welcome to my home.”

  Alexi had stared at Jarek and Mikhail, who were removing their coats and wearing the same knowing grin as Fadey. It said that they knew Alexi had finally found a woman who tested him, who fascinated him.

  With a quick movement Alexi had deposited Jessica on the gleaming wooden floor. He had shrugged off his coat and had walked away, dismissing her. He didn’t like the idea that Jessica had reversed the game between them, that now she held the upper hand. He had the uncomfortable feeling that he was fleeing into the safety of his aunt’s large, homey kitchen.

  He sipped his coffee too quickly and it burned his lip, and Jessica was dangerous. And meddlesome. And sensual. He hadn’t liked the soft feel of Jessica in his arms. The way her arm had rested lightly on his shoulders—which brought those soft unbound breasts against his chest. He hadn’t liked the fresh air bearing her scent—exotic yet fresh and sweet.

  He chewed his aunt’s pancakes and disliked how easily Jessica fit into the warm family scene, taking immediately to Leigh, Jarek’s wife, now expecting their second baby and evidently blooming with happiness. Ellie, Mikhail’s wife, who was in her last month of pregnancy, leaned close to her husband. Tanya, her child and Mikhail’s adopted five-year-old daughter, was at preschool. Jarek and Mikhail’s mother, Mary Jo, a long-legged Texan beauty, moved easily around her large, family-style kitchen with its strings of chili peppers, pottery and the sturdy Stepanov furniture. She was evidently pleased with her family and the presence of Jessica.

  At the end of the table Fadey, Alexi’s uncle, was obviously enjoying his grandfather role. He cuddled and teased Katerina, Jarek and Leigh’s toddler.

  “We have traditional tea in the afternoon, if you’d like to come. The tea is called zavarka,” Mary Jo was saying. “Fadey loves to have a family tea, and we brew it as he likes, in a samovar. We’re looking forward to having Viktor here with us and sharing tea. It’s so nice of Alexi to remodel the house for Viktor. We’re hoping Alexi will want to stay here, too. Danya has already said that he might come, too.”

  “Of course. We are family, are we not? My wife makes the cookies like in the old country, raspberry, of course. My brother, Viktor, Alexi’s father—he likes them, too. Thanks to Alexi, my brother will be joining me in his retirement. Viktor took some convincing. Alexi is a good boy—he helps with furniture loading and still he works at making a good home for his father. You will come, Jessica, to our tea. It is good to have women in a house—isn’t it, Alexi?”

  Alexi forced a nod and narrowed his eyes at Jessica, who was obviously enjoying his discomfort. Her smirks were even more delightful and difficult to resist than that beautiful temper, which set off her emerald eyes and red hair.

  Today, seated beside him, with her face cleaned of cosmetics and her hair in a gleaming ponytail that swayed as she walked—her hips also swayed, and in the light lounging pants, they had been soft and warm and—Alexi forced his mind away from what his body wanted.

  Jessica Sterling was a chameleon, a spoiled rich widow, used to getting what she wanted. The clean, wholesome look would appeal to the Stepanovs, and so for the moment she had shed her business skin.

  Now Jessica was showing him that she could move into his life and ruin his peace—if she wanted.

  Jessica smiled blandly at him and punched his shoulder lightly, playfully, like a girl tormenting a boy. “Alexi is a good old boy, aren’t you, bud?”

  “I am not a flower. Do not call me bud,” he answered sullenly before he could shield his dark mood.

  He frowned at Jarek, who had just whooped, and at Mikhail, who was smothering a grin.

  Even worse was the look of the women around the table—softly pleased, hopeful for another wedding, another Stepanov wife that he would not provide. If he ever feared anything, it was women plotting a wedding. He remembered in every detail the arguments, the emotions, the costs—that hunted feeling….

&
nbsp; When he turned to Jessica again, she was devouring her food, but that sly glance at him was victorious.

  Alexi put out his hand and turned her face fully toward him.

  She smiled innocently, but her dark green eyes sparkled with pleasure.

  Alexi noted the light gold circle around her iris. He noted the smoothness of her skin beneath his touch. He noted the quiver that caused the tendrils beside her cheek to sway.

  He noted the buttery gloss of her lips, the tiny crumb at one corner, dark with maple syrup.

  He leaned down and kissed that portion of her lip, allowing his tongue to flick the crumb into his mouth. He sat back to watch, fascinated as she quivered and lit, almost like a colorful jewel with sparkling, shifting facets, her cheeks flushing again, her eyes bright and startled.

  Recovering from the surprise he’d just given himself, Alexi began to smile—the game was his, unbalancing Jessica. Then he glanced at the other women who seemed breathless and waiting. Their dreamy expressions, those wedding looks, sent fear shivering up his nape and his smile died. “A crumb. She had a crumb on her mouth,” he explained unevenly.

  For once Jessica didn’t reply. She simply sat with her head lowered, the sunlight gleaming on her dark red hair.

  When lively conversation turned to his father coming in the spring, the remodeling of the house, the small pasture that was needed and tiny barn for the animals, Jessica still hadn’t spoken.

  She looked vulnerable and Alexi had the uncomfortable feeling that the blame was his. He wanted to run his hand over her head to soothe her—but that wouldn’t do.

  Instead he sipped his coffee and sat, very aware of the woman at his side. To his disgust, Alexi wanted badly to place his arm around Jessica, drawing her close and safe.

  “It is a lonely time for a man without a woman at his side,” Fadey was saying. “I am sorry your dear mother is not at Viktor’s side when he retires here. My brother still grieves for her deeply. But Louise will always be in his heart, I know this.”