Summer Brides. Debbie Macomber
high-tech development was expected to have a dynamic impact on sales and give Conrad Industries a badly needed financial boost. The company had been set for expansion, confident of success. Then a series of mishaps occurred.
This was the part that remained vague to Alek. He’d heard something about a burglary and a defection to a rival company. But by far the worst was a huge fire that had destroyed the lab and the warehouse. Not until much later had they learned the fire was arson.
An employee was suspected. That much he’d been told by Jerry. But there wasn’t enough proof to prosecute whoever it had been. Shortly after the fire, Jerry and Julia’s father had suffered a heart attack and died. It was then that Julia had taken over the company. They’d struggled for a year, trying to recover lost ground, before Jerry made the arrangements to bring Alek from Russia. Since that time he’d been working hard on implementing his ideas.
“You’re very quiet,” Julia commented, breaking into his thoughts.
He glanced over at his bride. Her nervousness didn’t escape him. He wanted to do whatever was necessary to put her at ease. He’d enjoyed listening to the story of Ruth and Louis Conrad’s love. It had touched his heart, reminding him of his own grandparents, long dead. They’d loved each other deeply and he could have asked for no finer heritage. His grandfather had died first and his grandmother had followed less than a year later. His mother claimed her mother-in-law had succumbed to a broken heart.
Julia shifted restlessly in the car. He caught the movement from the corner of his eye and wondered about this woman he’d begun to love. He’d been observing her for two years; he knew her far better than she could possibly grasp. And he’d known the instant Jerry had suggested they marry that he would accept nothing less than total commitment from her. He was not a man who did things by half measures. He looked forward to the time he would sleep with his wife. He’d sensed fire in her, but hadn’t realized how hot the flames were until they’d kissed. Really kissed.
No woman had ever affected him as strongly as Julia. The kisses had enhanced his appetite for what was to follow. He would be patient with her. Careful and slow. Although every instinct insisted he take her to his bed now, do away with her fretting and worry so they could enjoy the rest of the evening together. He must be patient, he reminded himself.
“Where would you like to go for dinner?” he asked. He suggested a couple of his favorite restaurants.
“Dinner?” she echoed, as though she hadn’t given the matter a second thought. “I…don’t know.”
“You decide.”
“Would you mind if we went to my…our condo?” In one of their few practical conversations, they’d agreed that he’d move into her place; his own apartment had been a furnished rental, so there hadn’t been much to bring over—just books, his computer, clothes and a few personal effects. He had a small moving company take care of it and continued to pay rent on the place so his sister, Anna, could eventually move in there.
Alek’s nod was eager. She would relax there and—what was the American term—unwind? Yes, she would unwind so that when the time came for them to retreat to the bedroom, she’d be warm with wine and eager for his touch.
“We’ll have to send out for something,” Julia announced when they reached the high-rise condominium. It was situated in the heart of downtown Seattle on the tenth floor, overlooking Puget Sound. A white-and-green ferry could be seen in the distance. The jagged peaks of the Olympic Mountains rose majestically to the west. The day had been clear and bright, but now the sun was setting, casting a pink glow over the landscape.
“Send out?” he repeated, frowning.
Julia stood in the middle of her modern home and clasped her hands in front of her. “I don’t cook much.”
“Ah.” Now he understood. “I am excellent in the kitchen.” In the bedroom, too, but he couldn’t say that without embarrassing her. She would learn that soon enough.
“You want to make our dinner?”
“Yes,” he answered, pulling his attention from the magnificent view and following her into the kitchen. He liked her home. The living room was long and narrow with windows that extended the full length. The dining room and kitchen were both compact, as if their importance was minimal.
“Would you like a glass of white wine?” Julia asked him.
“Please.” While she was busy with the wine, he explored his new home. A narrow hallway led to two bedrooms. The larger was dominated by a king-size bed, covered with a bright blue comforter and what seemed like a hundred small pillows. The scent of flowers, violets he guessed, hung in the air. The second bedroom was much smaller and the closet was filled with boxes. A quick examination revealed Christmas decorations.
He returned to the kitchen and took the wineglass from his wife’s hand. Her eyes, so large and dark, appealed to him, but for what he wasn’t sure. One thing was certain: Alek knew he couldn’t wait much longer to make love to her.
Julia felt like a fox about to be released for the hunt. She would soon be cornered, trapped by her own lies. Alek didn’t realize, at least not yet, that she had no intention of sleeping with him. So far he’d been patient and kind, but she couldn’t count on his goodwill lasting.
“I found a couple of chicken breasts in the freezer,” she told him. She felt as though she was in danger of swallowing her heart. She was pretending for all she was worth, acting the role of devoted wife, when she was anything but. “I’ll make a salad.”
He was searching through her drawers, stopping when he came across an old cloth dish towel. He tucked it at his waist and continued to survey her cupboards, taking out a series of ingredients.
He’d chopped an onion, a green pepper and several mushrooms by the time she dragged a stool to the counter. Perhaps she’d learn something about cooking from him. She’d seen Alek working in the laboratory. But now he astonished her with the familiar way he moved about her kitchen, as if this was truly his second home.
“When did you learn to cook?”
“As a boy. My mother insisted and I enjoy it.”
“Thank her for me.”
Alek paused and, glancing her way, smiled. “You can do that yourself someday. I’m doing what I can to arrange for her immigration to the States.”
“If…there’s anything I can do, please let me know.”
He nodded, seemingly pleased by her offer.
Julia drank her wine and refilled both their glasses. Her mind was working at a frantic pace, devising ways of delaying the inevitable moment when he’d learn the truth. Her original plan had been to get him drunk. Two glasses of wine and she was feeling light-headed and a bit tipsy. Alek had consumed the same amount and was completely sober. He wielded a large knife without the slightest hesitation.
Her next thought was to appeal to his sense of honor. A strange tactic, she had to admit, coming from a woman who planned on cheating him out of an intimate relationship. He must recognize that she didn’t love him. This was a business arrangement that profited them both; turning it into something personal could ruin everything.
The kiss. She must’ve been mad to let him kiss her like that. She’d done nothing to resist him. Instead she’d encouraged him, led him to believe she welcomed his touch.
She’d been shaken afterward. It shouldn’t have happened. The very fact that she’d permitted him to hold her and touch her in such an intimate manner defeated her own purpose. Anger rose within her, not at Alek, but at herself for having let things go so far. Now he expected more, and she couldn’t, wouldn’t allow it. She was angry, too, about the enjoyment she’d found in his arms. It was as if she’d been looking for a way to prove herself as a woman, to show him—and everyone else—that she was more feminine than they’d suspected.
Her foolishness had only complicated an already difficult situation.