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Ha
‘I haven’t thought the worst of you,’ Sergei pointed out blandly.
Curious, she raised her eyebrows. ‘And just what would the worst about me be?’
‘That you pla
Ha
‘And then finagle and flirt your way into my good graces, and most likely my bed.’
Now Ha
Another one-shoulder shrug. ‘On occasion.’
She shook her head, incredulous and reeling a little bit from the casual mention of his bed. And her in it. ‘And they’re not scared off by your incredibly surly attitude?’
Now he gri
‘I’m sure,’ she replied tartly. ‘It must be so very tedious to fight all these women off. How do you make it down the street?’
‘With difficulty.’
‘Poor you.’
Still smiling, he poured her more wine. Wine she shouldn’t drink, because she was already feeling rather delightfully light-headed. ‘In any case, we were talking about this trip of yours. Why did you want to travel so much?’
‘Because I never had before,’ Ha
‘What about university?’
‘I went to the state university, in Albany, just an hour away.’
‘What did you study?’
‘Literature. Poetry, mainly. Not very practical. My parents wanted me to take a degree in business.’ She swallowed, remembering how they’d wrung their hands and shaken their heads. Literature won’t get you anywhere, Ha
The shop. Always the shop. The stirring of resentment surprised her. Why had she never thought this way before? Because she’d never met someone like Sergei before, asking his questions, making her doubt. And thrilling her to her very core.
‘But you kept with literature?’ Sergei asked, and Ha
‘I left.’ She shrugged, dismissing what had been a devastating decision with a simple twist of her shoulders. It was a long time ago now, and she’d never regretted it. Not really.
‘Why?’
She looked up, saw that telling shrewd compassion in his narrowed gaze, and wondered how he was able to guess so much. Know so much. ‘My father had a stroke when I was twenty. It was too difficult for my mother to cope with him and the shop, so I came home and helped out. I intended to return to school when things got settled, but somehow—’
‘They never did,’ Sergei finished softly, and Ha
She lifted her shoulders in another accepting shrug. No point feeling sad about something that had happened years ago, something that had been her choice. ‘It happens.’
‘It must have been hard to leave university.’
‘It was,’ Ha
‘To study business or literature?’
‘Literature,’ Ha
Sergei’s mouth curved into a smile. ‘So you do have your own dream after all.’
Ha
Sergei’s smile deepened. ‘And here I thought you were an optimist.’
She let out a little laugh. ‘Yes, I am. So who knows, maybe I’ll start spouting so
He pretended to shudder. ‘Please don’t.’
Ha
The words fell into the stillness, created ripples in the silence like wind on the surface of a pond. The intimacy of the verse seemed to reverberate between them as Sergei’s heavy-lidded gaze rested thoughtfully on her and he slowly reached for his wine glass. ‘Emily Dickinson?’ he surmised softly, and Ha
It wasn’t a toast, it wasn’t anything, and yet Ha
‘How old are you now?’ Sergei asked abruptly, breaking the moment, and Ha
‘Twenty-six. I know it’s been a while since college but I will go back,’ she told him with a sudden, unexpected fierceness. ‘When I have the money—’
‘Saved?’ Sergei slotted in and she gave a little laugh.
‘I know what you’re thinking. I shouldn’t have blown all my money on this trip if I really wanted to go back to college.’ And that was probably true, but she’d needed this trip. After her mother had died and her closest friend Ashley had moved to California, Ha
‘You probably shouldn’t have,’ Sergei agreed dryly. ‘But sometimes a little impulsive action can be a good thing.’
Like now? For surely having di
She gave him an impish look from under her lashes. ‘I’m surprised to hear you say that,’ she told him, ‘considering how you chewed me out this morning for leaving my passport in my pocket.’
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