Hold Me Tight: Heartbreakers (6 page)

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….

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.”

“Lovely woman,” Mary Jo said in her soft Texan drawl as she passed and placed her hand on Alexi’s shoulder, leaning down to kiss his cheek. “I’ll pack lunch for you, darlin’. Are you enjoying your stay at the Amoteh, Jessica?”

Jessica nodded and smiled. “It’s lovely. I’m afraid I badly needed the rest.”

“A woman should not be working so hard that she forgets she is a woman,” Fadey stated softly. “You come to have
zavarka
with us. It is good for a family to have this warmth. When my brother comes, he will be pleased that you know our customs.”

“She’s not staying,” Alexi stated abruptly. This woman and he were at war and it sounded like his family was making permanent plans—

He already wanted Jessica in his bed, his lips tasting her skin, her body flowing beneath his—

But she wasn’t safe. Not a rich, spoiled, manipulative woman who knew how to play games and land on her feet. Not a woman with multiple surprising facets of loyalty, vulnerability and an almost naive innocence that she fought to hide beneath that sleek, polished exterior. The latter were probably well-honed for deception, he decided darkly.

Jessica turned to him slowly, her expression set. “I’m taking time to deal with a situation, no matter how long it takes.”

Alexi’s eyes locked with hers. He had his own situation to deal with—one of a spoiled woman demanding his services. Perhaps she needed to know how demands felt. “I am out of coffee. Get me some, please.”

Jessica didn’t move, her green eyes narrowing. Alexi could almost hear her silent reply—
Get it yourself.

Then she smiled brightly and pushed back from the table. “Sure, bud. I’ll just do that.”

Then in passing, she riffled his hair as if he were a child. Instinctively, Alexi tensed, then he caught her wrist and stared up at her.

Still holding her eyes, wide and stunned now, he lowered his head. The kiss he placed in her palm was a challenge, not affection, he told himself.

In her suite at the Amoteh Resort, Jessica rubbed her hands together. She’d tried unsuccessfully to wipe away the feel of Alexi’s lips, the flick of his tongue in the center of her palm.

The man moved quickly, instinctive, following his emotions. She hadn’t expected either his kiss on her lips—“a crumb,” he’d explained unevenly—or that kiss in her palm. Her eyes narrowed with the next thought: Alexi could just be raising the stakes of the game, challenging her. Jessica shook her head. That wouldn’t do. She’d fought to survive and win all of her life—Alexi Stepanov would lose.

She pushed up the sleeve of her green merino wool sweater to reveal the wristwatch Robert had given her, and the emeralds caught her eye. He’d loved her green eyes—a sweet memory swept through her of how he had loved her, gently, unwaveringly, reassuring her constantly as, inexperienced, she’d moved in to take over his corporate position in Sterling Stops.

Her mind swung to another man, bold and arrogant and disdaining and proud. An irritating man who had tormented her. Alexi wasn’t the easygoing man that he appeared—there were all sorts of layers brooding deep inside him. And a startling hunger that could reach out to burn her. Sexuality wasn’t a commodity that had suited Jessica, and Alexi had definitely triggered a response she didn’t want. He was at Willow’s now, prowling through the situation for which Jessica was certain he could manage very well.

“Always use the best man for the job. That’s what my husband used to say.” After returning to the Amoteh Resort from the Stepanovs, courtesy of Mikhail, Jessica had promptly stepped into the shower. She had carefully refitted herself into
the armor of cosmetics and dressed carefully in her slacks and sweater. The suite provided a business area and she was soon wrapped in work that wouldn’t wait. Howard had filled the message machine, grilling her about Alexi Stepanov and providing information she had already obtained—“He’s there preparing a retirement home for his father. Alexi Stepanov actually has nothing of his own. He tried to start a ranch and had to sell at a loss.”

Her queries showed that Alexi sold at a loss because he didn’t want to stay in Venus, Wyoming, or in the home his ex-fiancée had designed. Howard had been certain to slide in the next bit of information—“He’s after your money, Jessica. A down-on-his-luck cowboy, living off his father and looking for a meal ticket. My father would not like you taking up with him.”

“You don’t know what Robert would want, Howard,” Jessica stated coolly as she deleted all the messages and sat at the suite’s desk. She closed her eyes and thought of her husband’s last words.
I want you to be happy, my dear. I blame myself for not spending enough time with Howard when he needed it. Promise me that you won’t ignore happiness when it finds you?

Jessica rubbed the palm Alexi had kissed against her thigh. The stirring of her senses, his arousal against her, the frame of his strong body around hers as they rode to the Stepanovs’ this morning, disturbed Jessica.
Alexi Stepanov was six-feet-three inches of pure trouble, not happiness.

She looked out of the windows and thought of the Hawaiian chieftain who lay in his grave on Strawberry Hill, amid the low clouds and mist. He’d hated dying away from his homeland and had leveled a curse against the land he could not escape….

Alexi Stepanov was definitely Jessica’s curse.

But he was also a man that her instincts told her she could trust.

The bell over the door tinkled merrily as Alexi entered Willow’s Soaps. He noted that there was no burglar alarm or video camera. Aware of his size in the tiny, cluttered shop, Alexi moved carefully through the displays, the brochures about busi
nesses in Amoteh and the tables filled with soap still in their molds.

In the off-season, the shop was quiet and scented. Alexi passed a stack of addressed shipping boxes. He noted a bowl of polished worry stones, probably from Ed and Bliss, who had settled in Amoteh. The parents of Leigh, Jarek Stepanov’s wife, were carefree souls fitting well into the Amoteh community. A variety of love beads seemed to shift and glitter as Alexi moved by them, reminding him of the gentle lecture Bliss had given him about listening to his inner self, to align his chakras and let his female side emerge. A neat stack of her tie-dyed T-shirts lay on the counter where Willow had evidently been wrapping bars of soap in waxed paper and raffia, carefully labeling them.

Willow suddenly popped up from beneath the counter, her masses of waving black hair bobbing as she stared at him. Her little glasses were perched at the end of her nose, and she was wearing a battered sweat suit. Her eyes were rounded and filled with fear—“Oh, I thought you might be someone else—”

Evidently flustered, she recovered quickly. “Hi, Alexi. I’m just wrapping soap. It’s a great ginseng and lemongrass blend. Smell—”

She pushed a tiny bar at him and added quickly, “For a woman, not a man. I don’t stock the shop fully this time of year, but still, I do pretty good at Christmas. And your cousin, Mikhail, is just super, ordering my strawberry soaps for the resort, and I love the strawberry logo, and he gave me a good supply of them to label the soaps. Are you here to pick them up? I’m sorry, I don’t have them ready, but I can deliver them right away. I just have to put the labels on them. I’m glad the gift shop is letting me put my shop’s information on them, and I might start a catalog for people who want to order later, and did you want to buy something?”