“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.16Clara“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.”