by Alta Hensley
“Hey,” I said, walking forward and pushing the door closed before lifting the sack I was carrying. “Trust me, there is nothing in there that will match this. Come with me and I’ll share my lunch with you.”
“What is it?”
“You’ll have to join me to find out,” I said, bringing the sack to my nose and inhaling deeply before giving a long, exaggerated groan.
“You’re ridiculous,” she said, shaking her head, sending that sexy-as-shit ponytail swishing against a neck I remembered running my tongue along. I had to fight back an almost irresistible urge to nip at the spot where I could see her pulse ticking beneath pale skin.
In a flash, the past days without her vanished, and I saw her as I had that night, naked and writhing against me as we fucked on the middle of the stage. It had been crazy and spontaneous, which had been a bit surprising, but what had been absolutely mind blowing was how the sex had been so animalistic, taboo, and dirty. Fucking filthy.
“And hungry,” I said, grabbing her hand and hauling her unceremoniously out the door and not releasing it until we’d reached my office. I waved her toward a chair and continued around my desk. Sitting down, I reached into the bag and pulled out the thick turkey-on-rye sandwich. Unwrapping it, I said, “It’s good to see you. How have you been?”
“Good. Tired but good.”
True, it was an answer, and yet one that didn’t offer much in the way of information. Looking up, I met her eyes and had the thought that while I had loved every single moment we’d spent together that night, from the way Clara was acting now, I had to wonder if she regretted it. Neither one of us had been drunk or under the influence of any substances, so we couldn’t blame it on being impaired. We’d both been swept up in the moment. That really was all there was to it, but perhaps she was having second thoughts. If she was, it was up to me to change her mind as I sure as hell didn’t regret a single thing.
“Here, you look like you’ve lost weight,” I said, setting half the sandwich on a napkin and sliding it across the desk. When she didn’t make a move to take it, I stood and grabbed two bottles of water out of the mini fridge and opened one, setting it down beside the napkin. “Fine, just know you’re not gonna get a cookie unless you eat that first.”
“What kind of cookie?”
I grinned and moving behind her chair, pushed it closer to the desk. “That will remain a mystery until the last bite of your main course has disappeared.” I circled back behind the desk and dropped into my seat. “I know Yuri has been working everyone’s butts off, but considering I’m pretty fond of having my hands all over your ass, I’d rather not feel as if I’m grabbing nothing but skin and bones.” Lifting my half of the sandwich I said, “Bon appétit,” waiting until she’d lifted hers to take a bite. After chewing and watching her swallow the much smaller bite she’d taken from the corner of her sandwich, I asked, “Seriously, how are you?”
“I’m fine,” she said, but she looked the opposite of fine.
“Let’s try this again,” I said. “Besides not eating enough and looking like you’ve lost your best friend, how are you doing?”
“Really, I’m fine. It’s just been a very busy week.” She sighed deeply, which caused me to really take a closer look at her.
As soon as our eyes connected, I noticed the sadness behind her gaze, a look I hadn’t seen since that day she’d stood on the curb with her fist wrapped around a huge stack of mail whose white envelopes and metered postmarks flagged them as bills rather than invitations to parties or “just a note to say hi” cards.
“Clara, what’s wrong?” I asked, automatically reaching out to touch her hand resting on my desk, her sandwich forgotten. As soon as our skin connected, I got bolts of desire once more. It was so powerful my cock jerked, and, as I watched her nipples pucker and push against the tank top she was wearing, I knew she felt it as well. I gave her fingers a squeeze.
“Look at me.” When jade eyes met mine, I knew something was going on in her life. Something bad, and I couldn’t help but wonder what it was. “Is there anything I can help with? Is it the media stuff? Is it getting too much for you, because I can speak to someone and have them rearrange some of the interviews if you need a break.”
“No, no, it isn’t that.” She sighed deeply again. “Although that stuff isn’t much fun, I know it’s essential. Part of my contract and—”
“And you’re worried about what penalties I might extract if you skip a few questions?” I teased in an attempt to lighten the mood.
She shook her head again. “No, it’s not that. I probably shouldn’t admit it, but I seem to remember being perhaps a bit too willing to pay your price,” she said, giving me a far too fleeting smile. When I chuckled, she lifted her sandwich and took another bite to perhaps hide the fact her cheeks were pinkening.
Finishing mine, I pulled a twist of parchment paper out of the lunch sack and opened it, exposing not one, but two cookies. “Oatmeal with raisins or devil’s food?”
Her head snapped up, and any spot of color on her cheeks had disappeared. There was a look in eyes riveted on the dark-chocolate cookie in my right hand that had nothing to do with the struggle to make her choice of dessert. It was almost as if I’d asked if she wanted to choose between Heaven and Hell. Sliding the cookies back into their sleeve, I set them down and stood. Walking around the desk, I didn’t speak until I’d scooped her up and taken her seat with her on my lap.
“Okay, enough. What the hell is going on, and don’t you dare tell me it’s nothing or that you’re fine. You are about as far from fine as I’ve ever seen,” I said, plucking the half-eaten sandwich from her fingers and tossing it on my desk. I wasn’t going to give her a chance to hide behind anything even if it was just a slice of rye.
It took a moment, but she finally said, “It’s my babushka. She… she’s not doing very well.”
I often forgot Clara had a Russian heritage as she had no discernible accent. It was only when she spoke the language I remembered. I also remembered Baker telling me one of the unknown good things Clara had been doing for years was taking care of her ailing grandmother. “I’m sorry to hear that,” I said as I could clearly see the sorrow in her eyes. “If you need any time off or anything, then tell me and I’ll get it taken care of. I can work the rehearsal schedule around you. Whatever you need.”
“Thank you.” She gave me another soft smile but said, “She actually has an appointment to determine if she’d be suitable to participate in a trial for a new arthritis drug. I can’t stop worrying they’ll find some reason to deny her entry into the program. She needs relief even though she keeps stating she’s fine. Every day I see her moving a bit slower.” She paused and said, “Thank you again for hooking me up with the list of caregivers. It took a few of them, but we finally found one whom I trust and who doesn’t cave under Baba’s nonsense. I would love to attend every appointment with her, but I know I need to keep up with rehearsals. The performance might have gone well, but Yuri keeps reminding me I’m still not up to my best physical shape.”
“Yuri would say that regardless,” I said. “He’s not a man to ever offer much praise or allow anybody any slack, so if you really feel you need to take your grandmother—”
“No, it’s fine. Judy, our nurse, can take her, and besides, your brother is right. I’m getting close, but I’m not ready to pirouette across any Broadway stage yet.”
Broadway.
There was more than one theater with the designation of Broadway. One right around the corner from the Volkov Ballet, in fact, and while Clara hadn’t specified which one, she needed to know the committee from New York had some concerns. While Yuri and I hadn’t yet made the announcement to the company, yesterday we’d learned of their favorable decision to offer our company the coveted spot on their schedule. Despite the fact the committee members might have had a change of heart, it was likely they, and others, could be assholes to Clara. I didn’t want her to go in blind. As a dancer, she didn’t need to
be bothered with all the business aspects, but I also didn’t want to keep her in the dark.
“Look” —I pulled her in a little closer to me— “I have some stuff I need to talk to you about. But I’d rather not do it right now.” I decided the talk about New York and what the committee members had said would be better left for when Clara didn’t seem so upset. “Can we meet up later on to discuss it?”
She nodded slowly, as if something was plaguing her mind and she didn’t like that idea. I suddenly had the thought that perhaps she thought I was asking her out on a date, and that wasn’t what she wanted at all. How fucking embarrassing! Baker had also told me there were stories of how she’d literally screwed around… a lot, though those stories had faded away a couple of years ago. I wasn’t some asshole who held a double standard between men and women and their sex lives. As long as they weren’t in a committed relationship, I really didn’t give a shit how many people a person partnered with. Maybe Clara had only desired a good fuck and then wanted to move on.
“It’s work stuff,” I said quickly, wondering why it seemed I was just making it worse. “What I mean is you don’t have to worry. It’s nothing personal.”
“Oh no, it isn’t that,” Clara reassured me rapidly. “Though… well, it’s… it’s your brother.” My heart sank at those words. “He warned me against dating you.”
I managed to keep the anger that instantly began to boil inside me contained, but I couldn’t stop the change in my tone when I said, “My brother has no fucking say over my personal life. And though what I wanted to talk to you about doesn’t really have anything to do with us as a couple, if you’re going to listen to him, then I would rather know now.” I was dangerously close to admitting how deeply I cared for her. But right now, in the heat of the moment, I didn’t care. I was being honest with her, telling her what I needed.
“No. I have no intention of listening to him,” she replied quickly. “I just wanted you to know. But I really don’t think it’s because of anything having to do with you. I think he wanted to protect you from me.”
I gave her a smile. “I’m a grown man, Clara. I don’t need protection. So, unless you’d rather keep our relationship strictly platonic—”
“No!” she said, so quickly I had to grin. I decided not to correct myself. I’d meant to say “strictly business,” but I wasn’t going to backtrack now that she’d turned down that chance.
She gave my chest a poke with her finger. “I only meant I’m a grown woman and not going to let your brother… or anyone else tell me what to do or try to scare me away from what I want. Not again.”
“That’s good. So, it’s a date?” I said, not about to let the opportunity slip away.
Clara finally gave me a small smile, a bit of the tension seeming to have drained away. “Yes, it’s a date.” She slid off my lap. “I’m sure you have a lot of work to do, and I should get in a workout before Yuri throws a hissy fit.”
I nodded, grinning at the image of my stern brother stomping his foot or pulling his hair like some toddler throwing a tantrum. The very fact Clara wasn’t intimidated by the man had my respect for her going up another notch or two. “Yeah, I do have work. But I’ll pick you up at seven for dinner?”
Clara nodded as she walked toward the door, the sway of her hips locking my eyes on an ass I remembered in vivid detail. She then looked over her shoulder with a grin that instantly made my dick lengthen. The woman oozed sexy charm and didn’t even seem aware of it. “Don’t forget to bring my cookie.”
“Oatmeal, right?”
She laughed, her ponytail swinging. “Nope. If we’re going to dance with the devil, I can’t have him thinking I’m frightened. The devil’s food one has my name written all over it.”
“It’s yours,” I promised as she opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. It wasn’t until the door clicked shut behind her that I suddenly wondered what she’d meant by “not again.”
I had questions about that as well as who she meant by “anyone else.” I pulled the oatmeal cookie out and began to eat it as I looked across my desk and added the questions to the agenda for tonight. First, we’d have dinner and then I’d make sure I got every one of my questions answered. As I twisted the waxed paper tight around the remaining cookie, I couldn’t help but grin thinking that when we were alone, there would be nothing to keep me from extracting the price required if Clara tried to squirm out of telling me what was really on her mind. Picking up my phone, I dialed and made arrangements that would assure we’d be undisturbed for our “meeting,” which I was certain was going to get very personal indeed.
16
Clara
“Hi,” I said as I pulled open the front door to find Alek on my porch, flowers in one hand and a bottle of wine that I didn’t need to ask to know it would be non-alcoholic. “Thank you,” I said, smiling as I reached out with both hands to relieve him of his unnecessary, but extremely thoughtful gifts.
“Whoa,” Alek said, lifting the bunch of flowers above his head. “Don’t be a greedy girl. This is for you”—he held out the bottle—“and these, are for your babushka,” he added, lowering his arm again.
“That’s…”
“Sweet,” said a very familiar voice that sounded far less frail than the body it belonged to appeared.
“Baba, you’re supposed to be resting,” I said.
“I’ll rest when I’m dead.”
“Don’t say things like that,” I admonished even as a shudder ran through me.
“Dorogoy, how well you live a life is what matters, not how long,” she said, lifting a gnarled hand to pat against my cheek before she turned back to Alek. “And having a handsome man come bearing gifts to woo my granddaughter and her old babushka, is living very well indeed.”
Alek laughed and swept into a low bow, offering the bouquet to her before slipping an arm around her waist and gently guiding her back down the foyer as if he’d done so a thousand times before. I remembered how he’d said his mother had died, and I suddenly wondered how long she’d been sick. Forgetting about making a quick escape, as had originally been my plan, I draped my sweater over the small foyer table and followed them down the hall.
I smiled as I watched Alek settle my grandmother into her chair, not giving a single gesture to indicate he was either put out or in a hurry.
“Let me put these into water for you,” I offered, moving to take the flowers from my grandmother.
“Thank you,” Olga said, allowing me to take them from her even as she lifted a finger to tap against the bottle I’d tucked beneath my arm. “You are planning on sharing that, aren’t you?”
I hadn’t been, but God forbid I didn’t display impeccable manners when we had a guest.
“If you’ll allow me?” Alek offered, relieving me of the wine.
“The kitchen is through here,” I said, leading the way. Once we were alone, I turned and nearly bumped into him. “Oh, sorry.” The small space seemed a bit too cozy with the huge man occupying it with me.
“Don’t be.” Alek grinned. “Where are your glasses?”
Turning again, I pointed to the cabinet, and, when he pressed in behind me to open it, shuffling forward until my body bumped into the countertop, I giggled. “I could have gotten them—”
“But then I wouldn’t have an excuse to do this,” he said, setting the wine down and slipping his arms around my waist to cage me in before dropping his head to whisper against my ear. “You look beautiful tonight, Clara.”
He reached up to pull my hair aside in order to nuzzle my neck. I shuddered at the sensation, my nipples instantly peaking beneath my dress, and, when he lifted his head, I turned to face him.
“And you clean up exceptionally well,” I said.
His head lowered again, and both wine and flowers were forgotten as his lips met mine. Instant heat ran through me, every nerve popping as if electricity had been set free to zing about my body. It was a damn good thing his arms were around me because the m
oment he thrust his tongue into my mouth at the same time he pushed his body against mine letting me feel exactly how he felt, every bone in my body liquified.
“Clara, what’s taking so long?”
Nothing quite had a grown woman feeling like a teenage girl on her first date than a grandmother’s voice. Pushing against his chest, I broke away from the kiss.
“We’re coming, Baba,” I called before looking up at Alek. “We need… um…”
“Wine,” he offered when I couldn’t seem to think of what it was we needed.
Reaching above me again, this time to open the cabinet, he pulled down three glasses. Realizing I’d never even let go of the flowers he’d brought. I took the opportunity to duck beneath his lifted arm and moved across the room to grab a vase off the top of the refrigerator. I set it into the sink and turned on the faucet, allowing it to fill as I unwrapped the green floral paper from around the blossoms. Alek had given me beautiful roses after the performance the other night, but I found this bouquet of wildflowers just as beautiful. I snipped a bit off each stem to improve their ability to take a drink of water as he opened the wine and poured it into the glasses.
I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d felt so comfortable with a man… maybe because I never really had. I’d not dated much as a teenager, too busy trying to make it into the best dance schools. I’d been escorted to premieres and after parties by various men but none had truly meant anything to me. And, of course, there had been Nikolai, but I now understood every moment I’d allowed that man to be in my life had been a mistake.
“Where’d you go?”
“What?”
“You cut any more off that flower, and it won’t be worth a damn,” Alek said, “and I think the vase has been filled a few times over,” he added, reaching over to shut off the tap.
“Oh,” I said, feeling my face heat as I set down the scissors and looked at the poor daisy in my hand. “I was just thinking about how nice it is to see my babushka smile. You did that.”
