She stirred in her seat. “I’m afraid I can’t, Anatoly.”
“Since I met you, I can’t sleep in, either. No woman has ever disturbed me so much before, not even my fiancée.”
His line amused her—it was ten miles long—but it didn’t seem to matter, because she could feel a growing attraction to him in spite of it. Perhaps even because of it. Before meeting him, she would never have thought “amusing” could come packaged with such a sensual charge.
“I didn’t mean that. What I was trying to say is, I have other plans.”
“Yes?” He had that Russian ability to sound sad down to an art form.
“Yes.”
“Your lover?” he persisted.
She bit into a ripe plum so hard she cut the soft inner lining of her lip against the pit. “I’m spending the afternoon at the park with the two girls who were in the accident.”
“Fine. We will all go to lunch first, and then enjoy ourselves for the rest of the day.” He grinned cheerfully. “Did I tell you the owner of my apartment house has a croquet set she will let me borrow?”
Croquet? Good grief. Gaby thought that had died out by the end of the forties. “Your landlady didn’t vote for Roosevelt by any chance, did she?”
His eyes lit up. “Yes. How did you know?”
“Just a wild guess.”
“Do you not agree croquet will be a good activity for girls who are going to have babies? Better than Frisbee?”
She sighed. “Yes.”
“Then it is settled. We will play in teams. You and I against the young mothers. We will let them win.”
Oh, Anatoly.
She cleaned up the mess she’d made. “I thought you had to deliver flowers.”
“Not this Saturday. Karin’s husband is doing them that day.”
“How come?”
“Ever since you phoned my work, Karin has insisted that I take time off to be with my sweetheart.”
“Do you have any idea what that word means?”
“Of course.”
There were several empty parking spaces in front of her office. He pulled into the one closest to the door and shut off the engine. Afraid he planned to follow her inside, Gaby reached for the door handle, wishing she’d never made those calls to the florist shop.
“Then you need to tell her yours is still in Russia.”
“Karin says I should concentrate on my new one in case the old one does not work out.”
“I don’t suppose Karin knows I’m the person trying to help you get your fiancée here.”
“She doesn’t want Natasha to come.”
Gaby frowned. “Why not?’
He shrugged. “She says I do not act like a man in love.”
“Did you tell her that’s the whole point? That you need to see her again?”
“Yes. But Karin says that if I loved her, I would never have left Russia in the first place.”
The same thought had crossed Gaby’s mind.
“I have to go in. Thank you for the ride and the breakfast.”
His hand reached for hers. “You don’t have to keep thanking me. Tell me what time you plan to leave to get your bike, and I will be here.”
“I’m taking a taxi.”
“You are a very stubborn American woman,” he murmured, rubbing his thumb against her palm. Her legs turned to jelly right there. “That is why I like you so much. My job is to deliver flowers all over San Diego. Tell me what area you have to go to.”
“Mira Mesa,” she said of her own free will. Her uncle Frank would have a coronary if he knew. She was practically having a coronary herself!
“I always have deliveries in the northeast part of the city. I will come for you at noon. We will pick up your bike and make those deliveries at the same time. It will be fun.”
She moaned.
“Since I met you, I have dreamed of us working together,” he said. “You are a very intriguing woman, Gabriella. I find that I want to be with you all the time.” His husky voice underlined what his hand was still doing to hers.
She snatched it away. “If you don’t get going, you’ll be on a permanent vacation from your second job.”
“When I tell Karin why I was late, she will give me even more time off with pay.”
Gaby could believe it. That’s what was scary.
WHILE MAX WAS delivering the last order of flowers for the morning, a message had come in on his cell phone. As soon as he got back in the van, he called his contact.
“What did you find out about the address in Mira Mesa?”
“It’s a single-family dwelling, four school-age kids, both parents work. The father’s an employee at Larson Heating and Air-Conditioning. The mother works at the Diamond T Mini Mart in Mira Mesa. She has a speeding ticket in a school zone on her driving record. The eighteen-year-old has a debt from a CD company. It’s been sent to a collection agency.”
The report sounded innocuous enough, but that in itself could be misleading.
“Call me if you notice anything suspicious happening at Ms. Peris’s apartment.”
“Will do. The house in Mira Mesa will be surrounded by the time you get there.”
“Thanks for the information.”
It was ten to twelve. Max turned the van around and drove back to East Village, aware of an excitement he couldn’t suppress even though he knew he was playing with fire.
In the distance he spotted Ms. Peris on the sidewalk in her pale blue suit. With that gorgeous figure and legs to match, you couldn’t possibly miss her. The way a couple of delivery guys were eyeing her on their way into Jack’s Guitar and Drum Shop, he realized he wasn’t the only male enjoying the view.
When she saw the van, she hurried toward it. Max reached across to open her door. It pleased him to watch the guys’ faces fall as she climbed inside, unaware her every move was being scrutinized with blatant masculine interest.
He felt a juvenile urge to flip them off until he remembered that what he’d been doing to her since she’d driven her car into the Audi was much worse. There was a name for a man who took pleasure going through a woman’s closets and drawers, handling her most intimate apparel, listening in on her conversations, riffling through her mail.
But there was also a name for a woman who set a man up to be killed. He intended to get to know her a lot better before he knocked the car ring out of commission and sent all the players to prison.
She fastened her seat belt, then turned to him. “Why don’t we stop for hamburgers at a drive-thru on our way? My treat.”
With that inviting smile, he couldn’t picture her as a woman who was fast headed for incarceration without parole.
“Some of my compatriots do not like the American hamburger, but I am not one of them. There is a Jack-in-the-Box down the street.”
“That sounds good. I love their cheesecake.”
“I do, too.” He covered her hand, which was resting on the seat. “We have so much in common, I feel we must have known each other in a former life.”
“I doubt we had cheesecake then.” She slid her hand out from beneath his.
He smiled. “What a boring existence it must have been.” He paused and shifted topic. “You are not a Mormon by any chance, are you?” One of Max’s close friends in the FBI belonged to the Mormon Church. He’d taken Max to one of their Sunday meetings when his third baby was christened.
A gentle laugh came out of her. “No. Much to my parents’ chagrin, I don’t espouse any particular religion.”
Having seen the crucifix and missal in her bedroom, he’d been waiting for that lie.
“It sounds like the missionaries have been to your door, as well, Anatoly.”
He’d pulled off the street to follow the cars funneling into the drive-thru. “Since I arrived in San Diego, I have been visited by Mormons and Jehovah’s Witnesses. Like you, I listen to their messages, but I have not yet decided what I think. We had no Church in Russia.”
It was their turn to order.
“What would you like on your hamburger?”
Within a half hour they’d eaten their lunch and had found the address in Mira Mesa. He pulled up to the curb and killed the engine. There were several unmarked cars parked along the street, but not in front of the house or in the driveway.
“Will you come to the door with me?”
Though he didn’t believe she planned to have him finished off here, it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility. That was what his backup was there for.
“I am glad you asked, because I would not let you go up to a strange house alone.”
“I knew you’d say that. The thing is, a college girl is selling her bike. If she has a man with her, like a family member or a boyfriend, he might try to change the price on me. Unlike most women of today, I’m not above asking a man for help. It’s still pretty much a man’s world out there.”
He pretended to be flattered while his mind was busy working out what she was really up to. “You want to do the talking while I stand by?”
“If you wouldn’t mind. Your presence will guarantee a fair deal.”
“Of course I do not mind. I will also check out the bike before you hand over the money.”
“Thank you, Anatoly.”
She got out of the van before he could go around to help her. Together they walked up to the porch. The second she rang the bell, a young blond woman of about eighteen opened the door.
Max couldn’t see anyone else in the background. He was depending on the guys to know those details.
“Hi.” The girl seemed shy.
“Hello. I’m Gaby Peris, the woman who called about your bike. This is my friend, Mr. Kuzmina. Are you Linda?”
“Yeah. Just a minute and I’ll get it.” She left the door ajar, then walked the bike out a second later.
At first glance, the bike looked in good condition. After inspecting it closely, Max could tell it had been well oiled and lubed. There was no rust. He took it for a ride so he could shift the gears. So far he couldn’t see a problem and felt the bicycle was worth the asking price.
When he rode up, he nodded to the woman who’d just called herself Gaby. She was too feminine for that name. He preferred to think of her as Gabriella.
Max shouldn’t have been surprised she would take his opinion about the bike without question. After all, she had a plan to ingratiate herself to him. But it brought him no pleasure for reasons he didn’t want to think about.
He’d never enjoyed a woman’s company to this extent before. Not even his ex-wife’s. Lord.
She pulled the cash from her purse and gave it to the girl. Then she produced a bill of sale, which they both signed. Once that was accomplished, the girl wished her well with the bike and closed the door.
He pushed the bike toward Gabriella. “You want to go for a spin?”
“I’ll wait until after work.”
“Fine. Then I will load it in the back of the van.”
“Thank you for all your help,” she said when they were on the road again. “You’ve made the aftermath of the accident a very pleasant experience. When we go to the park on Saturday, I should have the information you’ve been waiting for about your fiancée. Hopefully you’ll be able to make plans for her visit in the very near future.”
Draw me in. Push me away. She’d chosen the wrong man to mess with.
“If you can make that happen, you are truly an amazing woman, Gabriella.”
“I haven’t promised a miracle, but I’ll try my best.”
Of course you will.
He turned down her street and double-parked in front of her office building. “One moment. I will get your bike and take it down to your office.”
“I can do that.”
“That is not the point. I like to do things for you.”
She whispered her thanks and opened the door for him. An Asian was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. She opened her office door so Max could take the bike on through.
“I will put it in the back,” he murmured near her ear where the scent of her shampoo lingered.
She nodded to him before greeting the man, who looked to be in his late twenties. He could be a mafia contact or a client.
Max set the bike against the wall, then returned to her office. She approached him. “I think I left my purse in the van.”
There was no way she would have done that without a reason. Maybe the whole business about the bike was an elaborate scheme so she could be alone with the other man for a moment.
He didn’t know if she’d found the bugs in her office and apartment. Perhaps she’d done this to see if he would take this opportunity to plant one in her cell phone.
On the other hand, someone in the mafia might have wanted to deliver a message in person, and this was her way of getting rid of Max for a few minutes while still looking totally innocent.
“I’ll get it.”
Taking the stairs three at a time, he hurried outside and found her purse on the floor of the van. Without opening it, he dashed back down to her office. She looked surprised that he’d returned so fast.
Tit for tat, Ms. Peris.
“Thank you, Anatoly. Have a good week. I’ll see you on Saturday. Shall we say one o’clock in front of my apartment?”
Sorry, sweetheart, but you’re going to see me a hell of a lot sooner than that. “I will be there with the croquet set. We will have a wonderful time.”
A stillness emanated from her. “Why do I get the feeling they play croquet in Russia and you were world champion?”
“Not croquet,” he teased.
“What then?”
“That is for me to know and you to find out.”
“You’re terrible,” she grumbled, but her eyes were alive with curiosity, almost as if she couldn’t help herself. Those warm, chocolate-brown depths were seducing him in ways for which he had no defense.
Watch your back.
He could hear Gideon’s warning. But it was coming from a long way off and didn’t carry its usual punch.
“Other women have told me that before, but they were not as exciting as you, Gabriella.”
The trouble with that statement was that it was true.
Max went out to the van and headed for the florist shop. He needed to load the afternoon orders and get them delivered in time to carry out his next plan of attack.
En route he checked in with the guy manning surveillance in a construction trailer near the corner of her office complex.
“Tell me about the people who’ve been to see her today.”
“So far they’ve all been legitimate clients talking to her about petitions for various types of visas. The guy who was there when you took in the bike was inquiring about a fiancée visa.”
“What about phone calls?”
“Except for one incoming call, everything else has been work-related.”
Max’s hand tightened on the phone. “Who was it?’
“Someone from a Dr. Karsh’s office in Miami, Florida, returning her call. They made an appointment for a phone consultation on Friday at two o’clock her time.”
“Find out what you can on Dr. Karsh. I’ll get back to you later.”
If she knew she was being bugged, she wasn’t about to give anything away she didn’t want Max to know about.
Clicking off, he got busy on the afternoon orders, then stopped by his apartment house to change into shorts and load his bike in the van. It was four-thirty by the time he’d parked it on the side street next to her apartment. After he’d removed his bike from the back of the van and had locked the doors, he took off for the office of one Gabriella Peris.
WHEN ANATOLY CARRIED her bike downstairs, he’d made it look so effortless. Getting it back up the steps was somewhat difficult, and Gaby wasn’t exactly the picture of grace.
Already short of breath before she even sat on it, she almost stopped breathing altogether when she saw an incredible-looking stranger seated on his bike outside Jack’s Guitar and Drum. He was lounging
against a street pole obviously waiting for someone.
Her gaze darted to his hard, powerful legs. She tried not to stare. Good grief. She’d already made an appointment with Dr. Karsh to talk about her obsession with a certain Russian. Now she was thinking she’d better phone her regular doctor to find out why she was being bombarded with excess hormones.
She couldn’t prevent her gaze from wandering up his well-defined chest covered by a blue T-shirt. From there it was only a little jump to his face, which had a familiar look. Then her attention was snagged by the well-worn baseball cap on his head. The rim had been turned to the back, and she could read the printing.
The words Bronx Knights sprang out at her before she realized who the guy was she’d been devouring with her eyes. He looked so American dressed like that, her mind hadn’t been able to make the leap to Anatoly.
A wave of heat swept through her body. “Where did you get that hat?”
“I traded one of my Russian tapes for it with a guy at the beach.”
“But why that one?”
“You do not like it?”
Not those sad eyes again. “Please don’t take everything I say so personally, Anatoly. All I meant was, I’m surprised.”
“Because I want to look like an American?”
“No—”
“I already told you I am going to be naturalized very soon,” he cut in on her. Apparently she’d really offended him. “I had hoped to please you, but I can see that you will always think of me as Russian. What can I fix so you will like me better?”
She rubbed her forehead. She could feel a headache coming on. There wasn’t anything to fix. He was quite perfect the way he was. The Russian traits only made him more attractive.
“Tell me the truth, Gabriella,” he said in a hurt voice. “How can I change myself so you will be happy to be seen in my presence? If it is the way I speak, you could help me get rid of my accent. I would pay you.”
She bowed her head. “Your accent is very charming.”
“Then it is the way I look. Shall I cut my hair in a buzz like all the college guys around here?”
“No!” she cried without thinking, and felt her face grow hotter.
Accidentally Yours Page 8
