Page 30 of Convincing Alex (Stanislaskis #4)

“Oh.” Rachel’s eyes took on the glow a woman’s get when she looks at a lover—or a five-pound box of exclusive chocolates.

“I think you just became my best friend.”

Chuckling, Bess dug into the bags again. “Well, I know that people tend to drop by with baby gifts.” She held out a box wrapped

in snowy white with bright red lollipops scattered over it. “And, though I couldn’t resist the tradition, I figured you deserved

something really sinful for yourself.”

“I do.” Rachel tucked the baby box under her other arm. “It’s really sweet of you, Bess, and unnecessary. You and Alex already

brought Brenna that wonderful stuffed dragon.”

“That was from us. This is from me. It’s a girl thing. I saw this tiny little white organdy dress with all these flounces

and little pink bows and I couldn’t resist.”

Rachel’s new-mother’s heart melted. “Really?”

“I figure in another year she might want to wear motorcycle boots, so this may be your only chance to play dress-up.”

“I swore that whatever I had, I wouldn’t make sexist decisions in dress or attitude.” She sighed over the box. “White organdy?”

“Six flounces. I counted.”

“I can’t wait to put her in it.”

“Ah, company.” Mikhail strode out of the bedroom with Brenna tucked in his arm. “Hello, Aunt Bess.” He kissed both of her

cheeks, then her mouth.

“You said you wouldn’t wake her up.” This from Rachel, who was already leaning over to coo.

“I didn’t. Exactly. What’s this?” Recognizing the gold foil box, he flipped it open and dived in.

“Mine,” Rachel said in a huff. “If you eat more than one, I’ll break your fingers.”

“She was always greedy,” he said over the first piece. “Where’s Alexi?”

“He got called in.”

“Good. Now you have time to sit down. I’ll sketch you.”

“Now?” Womanlike, Bess lifted a hand to her hair. “I’m not exactly dressed for it.”

“I want your face.” Obviously well used to making himself at home, he opened the drawer on an end table and rummaged for a

pad. “Perhaps I’ll do your body later. It’s a good one.”

Her laugh was quick. “Thanks.”

“You might as well cooperate,” Rachel told her, and crossed over to take the baby. “Once the artist in him takes over, you

haven’t got a chance.”

“I’m flattered, really.”

“There’s no reason to be,” he said absently as he unearthed a suitable pencil. “You have the face you were born with.”

“Thank God that’s not always true.”

That caught his interest. “You had it fixed?”

“No. I just sort of grew into it.”

“Not there,” he told her before Bess could sit. “Over there, closer to the window, in the light. Rachel, when do I get the

drink you promised me?”

“On its way.” She stopped nuzzling Brenna long enough to look up. “What can I get you, Bess?”

“Anything cold—and a shot at holding the baby.”

“I can accommodate you on both counts.” Rachel laid her daughter gently in Bess’s arms. “She hardly ever cries. And I think

her eyes may stay blue. Like Zack’s.”

“She’s a beauty.” Bess leaned down to brush her lips over the curling dark hair and to draw in the indescribably sweet scent

of baby. “Like all of you.”

“Move,” Mikhail ordered his sister. “You’re in my way.”

Shooting off a mild Ukrainian insult, she headed for the kitchen.

“Talk if you like.” Mikhail gestured with his pencil, and began to sketch.

“It’s one of my best things.” She’d already forgotten to be self-conscious. “Where’s Sydney and Griff?”

“Griff has the sniffles.” The pencil was moving with quick, deft strokes over the pad. “Sydney fusses over him, but she says

I’m fussing over him and sends me out on errands.”

“Which he does by coming by and plaguing me,” Rachel called out.

“She’s happy to see me,” Mikhail said. “Because she’s lonely, with Zack and Nick over checking on the progress of the new

apartment.”

“Oh, that’s right, you’re moving.” Comfortable, Bess tucked up her legs. “Alexi mentioned it.”

“We need a bigger place. Of course, it was supposed to be ready a month ago, but things never run on time. I’ll miss this

one,” she said, coming back in with a tray of cold drinks. “And having Nick underfoot. But I imagine he’ll like having this

place to himself.”

Bess reached for her drink with her free hand, gently jiggling the baby with the other. “I guess he had as big a crush on

you as Freddie has on him.”

For a moment, Rachel only stared. Then she let out her breath in a quiet laugh. “Alex said you saw things.”

“Just part of the job.”

Rachel didn’t consider herself a slouch in the reading-people department. “So, how big a crush do you have on Alexi?”

“The biggest.” Bess smiled and rubbed her cheek over Brenna’s. “He thinks I’m flighty. Fickle. But I’m not. Not with him.”

“Why would he think that?”

“I have a varied track record. But it’s different with him.” When Bess lowered her head to murmur to the baby, Rachel glanced

at her brother. They exchanged a great deal without uttering a word. “It makes me envy people like your sister, Natasha,”

Bess went on. “Those three beautiful children, a husband who after years together still looks at her as if he can’t believe

she belongs to him. Work she loves. I envy all that.”

“You’d like a family?”

“I never had one.”

Rachel knew it was the lawyer in her, but she couldn’t help moving along the line of questioning. “Does it bother you that

he’s a cop?”

“Bother me?” Bess’s brows lifted in surprise. “No. Do you mean, will I worry? I suppose I will. But it’s not something I could

change, or that I want to change. I love who he is.”

“He’s making you sad,” Mikhail said quietly.

“No.” Bess’s denial was quick enough to startle the dozing baby. She soothed her automatically as she shook her head. “No,

of course he isn’t.”

“I see what’s in your eyes.”

He would, she realized, and felt the warmth creep into her cheeks. “It’s only that I know he doesn’t trust me—my feelings.

Or, I suppose, the endurance of my feelings. It’s not his fault.”

“He was always one to pick things apart.” There was brotherly disgust in Mikhail’s voice. “Never one to take anything on faith.

I’ll speak to him.”

“Oh, no.” This time, she laughed. “He’d be furious with both of us. All that Slavic pride and male ego.”

Instantly Mikhail’s eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing.” She grinned at Rachel. “Not a thing. I’ll just wear him down in my own way. In fact, I’m going to start tonight.

I’m cooking dinner. I thought maybe I could call your mother, find out if he has a favorite dish.”

“I can tell you that,” Rachel offered. “Anything.”

“Well, that certainly widens my choices. Do you think she’d mind if I called her, asked for some pointers? My kitchen skills

are moderate at best.”

“She’d love it.” Rachel smiled to herself, knowing her mother would hang up the phone and immediately start planning the wedding.

It was after midnight when Alex let himself into Bess’s apartment with the key she’d given him. He was punchy with fatigue,

and his head was buzzing from too much coffee. Those were usual things, as much a part of his work as filing reports or following

a lead. But the sick weight in his stomach was something new.

He would have to tell her.

She’d left the television on. In an old black-and-white movie a woman screamed in abject terror and fled down a moonlit beach.

As he shrugged out of his jacket, Alex moved across the room to switch it off. Before he reached the set, he saw her, curled

on the couch.

She’d waited for him. The sweetness of that speared through him as he crouched beside her. For so many years now, he’d come

home alone, to no one. Gently he brushed the dark red curls from her cheek and replaced them with his lips. She stirred, murmuring.

Her eyes fluttered open.

“I’m just going to carry you into bed,” he whispered. “Go back to sleep.”

“Alexi.” She lifted a hand to rub over the cheek he hadn’t shaved that morning. Her voice was thick with sleep, her eyes glazed

with it. “What time is it?”

“It’s late. You should have gone to bed.”

She made a vague sound of disagreement and pushed up on one elbow. “I was waiting up, but the movie was so bad.” Her laugh

was groggy, and she rubbed her eyes like a child. “It zapped me.” She circled her shoulders before leaning forward to kiss

him. “You had a long day, Detective.”

“Yeah.” And maybe, because she was half-asleep, he could put off the rest. “So have you. I’ll cart you in.”

“No, I’m okay.” She sat up, yawning. “Did you eat something?”

“I caught a sandwich. I’m really sorry, I tried to call.”

“And got the machine,” she said with a rueful nod. “Because I’d forgotten the paprika and had to run back out to the market.”

“You cooked?” The idea both touched him and accented his guilt.

“I amazed myself.” It felt good to settle against him when he joined her on the couch and slipped an arm around her. Cozy,

right, and wonderfully simple. “Your mother’s recipe for chicken and dumplings—Hungarian-style.”

“Csirke paprikas?” Normally it would have made his mouth water. “That’s a lot of work.”

“It was a culinary adventure—and the cleaning lady will probably quit on Monday, after one look at the kitchen.” She laughed

up at him, then scrubbed her knuckles over his cheek when she caught the look in his eyes. “Don’t worry. It’ll heat up just

fine for tomorrow’s lunch. Then again...” She snuggled closer. “If you’re feeling really guilty, I’ll take you up on that

ride to the bedroom—and whatever else you can think of.”

But instead of chuckling and scooping her up, he pushed away to pace to the television and snap it off. “We have to talk.”

His tone had nerves skittering in her stomach, but she nodded. “All right.”

He thought it might be best—for both of them—if they had some of the brandy she had offered him during an earlier crisis.

Trying out the words in his head, he walked to the lacquered cabinet.

“It’s bad,” she murmured, and pressed her lips together, hard. Her first thought was that he had changed his mind about her.

That he had finally taken that good look she’d been afraid of and realized his mistake.