Page 23 of Convincing Alex (Stanislaskis #4)

“And then,” Bess continued as she zipped through traffic, “Jade turns back, devastated, and says, ‘But what you want isn’t

always what you need.’ Music swells, fade out.”

“It’s not that I’m not fascinated by the twists and turns of those people in Holbrook...”

“Millbrook.”

“Right.” Alex winced as she cut off a sedan. “I just wish you’d watch the road. It would be really embarrassing if you got

a ticket while I was in the car with you.”

“I’m not speeding.” Frowning, she glanced down at her speedometer. “Hardly.”

She handled the five-speed like a seasoned veteran of the Indianapolis 500, Alex thought. And at the moment she was treating

the other, innocent drivers on the road like competitors. “Maybe you could find a home in one lane and stay there.”

“Killjoy.” But she did as he asked. “I hardly ever get to drive. I love it.”

He had to smile. The wind whipping in through the open sunroof was blowing her hair everywhere. “I’d never have guessed.”

“The last time I had a chance was when L.D. and I went to some fancy do on Long Island.” She checked her mirror and, unable

to resist, shot into the next lane. “One trip with me and he insisted on taking his car and driver every damn place.” She

sent Alex a smile, then sobered instantly when she saw his expression. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For bringing him up.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

No, he hadn’t said anything, she admitted. A man didn’t have to say a word when his eyes could go that cold. Her hands tightened

on the wheel. Now she stared straight ahead.

“He was a friend, Alexi. That’s all he ever was. I didn’t...” She took a long, careful breath. “I never slept with him.”

“I didn’t ask one way or the other,” he said coolly.

“Maybe you should. One minute you want to know all there is about me, and the next you don’t. I think—”

“I think you’re driving too fast again.” He reached over and brushed his knuckles down her cheek. “And you should relax. Okay?”

“Okay.” But her fingers remained tight on the wheel. “I’d like—sometime—for us to talk about it.”

“Sometime.” Damn it, didn’t she realize he didn’t want to talk about the other men who’d been part of her life? He didn’t

want to think about them. Especially now, now that he was in love, and he knew what it was like to be with her.

He knew the sound of that little sigh she made when she turned toward him in the night. The way her eyes stayed unfocused

and heavy, long after she awakened in the morning. He knew she liked her showers too hot and too long. And that she smelled

so good because she rubbed some fragrant cream all over before she’d even dried off.

She was always losing things. An earring, a scribbled note, money. She never counted her change, and she always overtipped.

He knew those things, was coming to treasure them. Why should he talk about other men who had come to know them?

“Turn here.”

“Hmm?”

“I said turn...” He trailed off with a huff of breath as she breezed by the exit. “Okay, take the next one, and we’ll double

back.”

“The next what?”

“Turn, McNee.” He reached over and gave her hair a quick tug. “Take the next turn, which means you have to get over in the

right lane.”

“Oh.” She did, punching the gas and handily cutting off another car. At the rude blast of its horn, she only lifted a hand

and waved.

“He wasn’t being friendly,” Alex pointed out—after he took his hands from in front of his eyes.

“I know. But that’s no reason for me to be rude, too.”

“Some people consider cutting off another driver rude.”

“No. That’s an adventure.”

Somehow they made it without mishap. But the moment she’d squeezed into a parking place two doors down from his parents’ row

house, he held out his hand. “Keys.”

Sulking, she jingled them in her hand. “I didn’t get a ticket.”

“Probably because there wasn’t a traffic cop brave enough to pull you over. Let’s have them, McNee. I’ve had enough adventure

for one day.”

“You just want to drive.” Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “It’s a man thing.”

“It’s a survival thing.” He plucked them from her hand. “I just want to live.” Not that he was going to object to handling

the natty little Mercedes. But he decided against bringing that up as they climbed out of opposite doors.

“Pretty neighborhood,” she commented, taking in the trees and freshly painted house trim and flowering plants, the scatter

of kids riding over the uneven sidewalk on bikes and skateboards.

A few of them called out to Alex. Bess found herself being given the once-over by a group of teenage boys before they sent

hoots and whistles and thumbs-up signs in Alex’s direction.

“Ah, the first stamp of approval.” But she rubbed her damp palm surreptitiously against her skirt before taking his hand.

“Did you used to ride bikes along the sidewalk?”

“Sure.”

Battling nerves, she strolled with him toward the house. “And sit on the curb in the summer and lie about girls?”

“I didn’t have to lie,” he told her with a wicked grin. He glanced up the steps as the door opened and Mikhail came out, Griff

on his hip.

“You’re late again.” He started down, jiggling Griff.

“She missed the turn.”

“He’s always late.” Mikhail smiled. “You’re Bess.”

“Yes. Hello.” She held out a hand and found that his was hard as rock. Griff had already leaned over to give Alex a kiss,

and now, still puckered, he leaned toward Bess. Laughing, she pressed her mouth to his. “And hello to you, too, handsome.”

“Griff likes the ladies,” Mikhail told her. “Takes after his uncle.”

“Don’t start,” Alex muttered.

Mikhail ignored him and continued to study Bess until she was fighting the need to squirm. “Do I have dirt on my face, or

what?”

“No, sorry.” He shifted his gaze to his brother. “You’re improving, Alexi,” he said in Ukrainian. “This one is well worth

a few sweaty mornings in the gym.”

“Tak.” He skimmed a hand down to the nape of Bess’s neck. “If you tell her about that, I’ll strangle you in your sleep.”

Mikhail’s grin flashed. The resemblance was startling, Bess thought. Those wild, dark looks, that simmering sexuality. And

the child had the looks, as well, she realized. Lord help the women of the twenty-first century.

“Guy talk?” she asked.

“Bad manners,” Mikhail said apologetically, deciding he liked not only her unusual looks, but the intelligence in her eyes,

as well. Yes, indeed, he thought, Alex was definitely improving. “I was complimenting my brother on his taste. Take her in,

Alex. Griff wants to watch the kids ride awhile.”

“Sydney?” he asked as he mounted the steps.

“She’s here, but she’s tired.”

“She works too hard.”

“There is that.” The grin spread again. “And she’s pregnant.”

Alex stopped, turned. “Yeah?” He went down the steps again to catch Mikhail and Griff in a bear hug. “It’s good?”

“It’s great. We want our children close, our family big.”

“You’re off to the right start.” He grabbed Bess’s hand as Mikhail lifted Griff onto his shoulders and crossed the street.

Griff was clapping his hands and shouting toddler gibberish to the other kids. “I’m still trying to get used to him being

a papa, and now he’s going to have another.”

She’d forgotten her nerves. Perhaps the child’s sweet, unaffected kiss had done it. She slipped an arm around Alex’s waist.

“Come on, Uncle Alex. I want to meet the rest of them.”

“They’re loud,” he warned as they started back up the door.

“I like loud.”

“They can be nosy.”

“So can I.”

At the door, he took both of her hands. He’d brought women into his home before, but it had never been important. This was

vital. “I love you, Bess.” Before she could speak, he kissed her, then pushed open the door.

They certainly were loud, Bess discovered. No one seemed to mind if everyone talked at once, or if the big, droopy-eared dog

barked and raced around the living room to hide behind chairs. And they were nosy, though they were charming with it. She’d

hardly had a chance to get her bearings before she was sitting next to Alex’s father, Yuri, and being cagily interrogated.

“So you write stories for TV.” He nodded his big, shaggy head approvingly. “You have brains.”

“A few.” She smiled up at Zack when he offered her a glass of wine.

“Rachel says more than a few.” He sent his wife a wink as she sat with her hands folded over her enormous belly. “She’s been

watching your show.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“I admit I was curious.” Rachel wanted to shift to get comfortable, but she knew it was useless. “After we met, I taped it

a couple of times. Then, when I gave in to Zack’s hounding me about taking maternity leave, I realized how easy it is to get

hooked. I’m not sure I’ve got all the characters straight yet, but it’s amazingly entertaining. Nick’s caught it with me.”

She glanced at her brother-in-law.

To his credit, Nick didn’t blush, but he did squirm. “I was just keeping you company.” He might have come a long way from

trying to prove his manhood with gangs like the Cobras, but even at nearly twenty-one, he wasn’t quite secure enough to admit

he’d gotten caught up in the “Secret Sins” of Millbrook. He shrugged, shook back his shaggy blond hair, then caught the quick

grins of his family. “It wasn’t like I was really watching.” His green eyes glinted with humor. “Except for the babes.”

“That’s what they all say.” Bess smiled back, enjoying him. Too bad he wasn’t an actor, she thought. Those brooding good looks—tough,

with just a hint of vulnerability beneath—would shine on-screen. “So, who’s your type, Nick? LuAnne, our sensitive ingenue

with the big, weepy eyes, who suffers in silence, or the scheming Brooke, who uses her sexuality to destroy any man who crosses

her?”

Considering, he ran his tongue around his teeth. “Actually, I go for Jade. I’ve got this thing for older women.”

Zack caught him in a headlock.

“Hey.” Nick laughed, not bothering to try to free himself. “We’re having a conversation here. I’m trying to make time with

Alex’s lady.”

“Kill him in the other room, will you?” Alex said easily. “We have to eat in here.”