Innocent in the Ivory Tower (5 page)

There was a taut, tense silence in the car that was tying Maisy’s stomach in knots.

She took a deep breath and examined his hard, uncompromising profile as he negotiated the road. An innocent trip into town had been turned into a man-trawling exercise on her part. He was clearly ready to believe the worst of her because it would make it easier for him to get rid of her when the time came.

Whatever I do
, she thought a little desperately,
it won’t be enough because he’s decided I’m a party girl.
Which was so ludicrous she snorted.

His attention snapped to her. ‘What is it?’

Maisy checked over her shoulder. Kostya’s head was hanging; he was still deeply asleep.

She gave Alexei her best impression of Anais-like insouciance. ‘I was just thinking, if all the men in Ravello are hot for me I’m going to need some evenings off to accommodate them. How about Fridays and Saturdays?’

It was a stupid thing to do, but he was
so
self-righteous. She wanted to show him how silly all his preconceptions of her actually were. Instead, the moment the words were out of her mouth she knew she had made a mistake.

The car shifted down a gear, slowed, came to a soft standstill on the side of the road. Alexei unsnapped his safety belt, glancing into the backseat at the slumbering infant. Maisy shrank back against the door, suddenly wary of what she’d stirred up.

‘Wh—what are you doing?’ she stammered.

‘I need to make a call,’ he informed her, head averted, scissoring the door open and closed.

Lacing his hands behind his neck, Alexei walked out his frustration along the verge, taking a few deep breaths. She was a very young, very provocative woman. She was taunting him because he’d offended her. She didn’t mean to push his buttons. But she had.

He couldn’t drive safely until he’d worked this through.

All the men in Ravello.
He’d brought it up. He’d put the words into her mouth. He’d put the thoughts into her head. Maisy was clearly no more promiscuous than he was. Yet … images he’d never be free of flashed like a viewfinder through his mind. His mother’s clients—sordid, terrifying for the child he had been. He let them flicker, then shut them off with abrupt practised closure, glancing back at the car. He could see her head bent, the gleam of all those fiery ringlets. He took a breath. This was Maisy—this was different. There was nothing more natural than his desire to take her to bed.

Maisy sat drowning in the sudden silence. She watched him in the rear-vision mirror as he walked slowly away from the car. Even through her shot nerves she registered his back view was every bit as scrumptious as the front, and he had an amazing taut behind.

She buried her hot face in her hands.
Me and my mouth
, she cursed.
What was I thinking? What am I doing? It was a joke—a silly joke. But of course he doesn’t do jokes. This is all getting completely out of hand.

She heard a click and felt the shift of weight in the car, dragging her hands away too late to find him beside her, watching her with the oddest expression. It was too late to hide her embarrassment.

Unsophisticated, foot-in-mouth Maisy.

‘That didn’t take long,’ she blurted out, sounding uncomfortably breathless.

He was watching her and there was real, undisguised heat in his eyes. Maisy’s breathing hitched and sped up. The buzzing atmosphere she recognised from her room was in the car. She had never felt anything like it, and with it came the memory of the feel of his mouth sliding over hers, the sheer force of his lust. You couldn’t dress it up as anything else—they barely knew one another, and she had been with him all the way. Why wouldn’t he think she would do it again?

‘I decided I didn’t need to make the call.’ A smile sat tight on his lips as he turned over the quiet engine. ‘Maybe you
should reconsider all the men in Ravello, Maisy. I have a feeling you’re going to be pretty busy.’

‘With Kostya?’ said Maisy by rote, her mouth dry, her throat closed.

‘No.’ He swung the sports car fluidly back onto the highway and accelerated ever so slightly, so that the breath leapt from her body. ‘That would be with me.’

B
Y THE
time they drew into the courtyard she was a mass of nerves, but Alexei, in contrast, seemed completely energised. He already had Kostya out of his child’s seat and was carrying him and the pushchair inside with the casual assurance that he would keep the boy with him for the rest of the afternoon—leaving Maisy to fumble with her shopping bag, feeling utterly swamped.

So much for looking after him. She was left with the shopping.

She could hardly credit what had happened. He had to be joking. He couldn’t possibly be suggesting what it sounded like he was suggesting. She chased his words around her head as she went through the motions of decanting her purchases onto her bed and taking a shower in the modest
en suite
bathroom to freshen up. She was so distracted she almost doused her brand-new hair, just dodging the water stream in time.

This whole sexual attraction thing was inappropriate and dangerous. Alexei was like that car of his—high-powered. Things could veer out of control if she didn’t handle him properly. She needed to tone it down, deflect him in some way. The problem was deep down she liked his approval—she liked that spark he got in his eyes. The woman in her did a slow burn every time he so much as looked in her direction.

Pulling on yoga pants and a long T-shirt, she told herself these clothes would firmly put the kybosh on any inclinations he had in her direction. Except, lingering in front of the mirror,
she knew she was kidding herself. Deep down she wanted what she’d had in her room in London. She wanted him to look at her and lose control again. At the same time the idea terrified her, because it would involve tipping into a level of sexual intimacy she didn’t know if she was ready for. A solitary horrible experience had not encouraged her in any way to repeat it, even if she had the opportunity. But for a week now in her darkest thoughts he had been there, lifting her, his mouth on her, the heat of his body being accepted into hers.

Her reflection in the mirror taunted her. Her skin felt tight, hot and her eyes as dark as she’d ever seen them, the pupils enlarged. Her body was giving her messages she was finding difficult to ignore.

Frustrated with herself, Maisy stripped and pulled on a soft knit top and her favourite jeans instead. They weren’t obvious but they clung in all the right places. She told herself there was nothing wrong with enjoying a little male attention. She just needed to keep everything within bounds.

She could hear Kostya before she reached him. Alexei was sprawled on the floor with him in the entertainment room. Maisy hesitated, watching them. They were building blocks, and every time Alexei got eight up Kostya would knock them down, shrieking with glee.
Within bounds?
a dry little voice murmured in her head.
And whose bounds would they be, Maisy, his or yours?

Alexei’s head came up and she knew who had won.

‘I can’t win,’ he said, his dark voice full of rich amusement. ‘He’s clearly experienced in demolition. I might employ him.’

Maisy took one step and then another into the room. She had not seen him so relaxed before and it made a spectacular sight.

Alexei made a round trip of Maisy whilst Kostya crawled about collecting his blocks. The scoop-necked knit top clung gently to the round shape of her full breasts and flared out over her hips. She was shaped like an hourglass—something he hadn’t fully appreciated until this moment. If his hands
were around that little waist of hers he was sure his fingers would meet. The jeans were like a second skin, tapering over her slender calves to her small feet.

Maisy exuded a soft femininity that had the testosterone pounding through him, obliterating any sensible thought he might have had about putting the lid on this attraction. Her curves, he recognised in a flash of clarity, made a nightmare of every sharp hipbone he had ever cut himself on.

Only one thought was pumping through his brain: where had this woman been all his life? His mouth was dry by the time she crouched down and brushed the curls from Kostya’s eyes.

‘He needs a haircut.’ His voice was thick, darkened by the sexual impulses thrumming through his blood.

Her mouth tensed. He loved that she didn’t wear lipstick. ‘Not yet.’

‘I’ll get a barber in.’

‘No.’ A little frown line creased between her brows.

‘Are you going to fight me on everything, Maisy?’

‘If I have to.’

A very blatant image of Maisy naked, on top of him, assaulted his senses, and all Alexei could do about it was smile at her, wondering what magic words were going to break down whatever defences she had in place.

Maisy was making sure she looked him in the eye. He needed to understand when it came to Kostya she wouldn’t let him steamroll her. But then he smiled that lazy big cat smile that made her tingle down to her toes and suspect they weren’t talking about Kostya at all. She did her best to ignore the tingling.

‘I don’t think now is a good time for haircuts.’

Alexei sat up, the movement so abrupt Maisy almost jumped. He was sitting so close to where she was hunkered down she could have reached out and brushed the back of her hand along his lightly bristled jaw. She blushed at the thought.

‘I spoke to a child psychologist on Monday,’ he responded.

Right. Child psychologist. Good. Maisy moistened her lips. ‘Maybe we can talk about it later,’ she said jerkily, trying not to read too much into his close proximity. ‘Kostya might be little but he has big ears.’ She struggled to inject some normality into her voice, which seemed to have dropped an octave. ‘Besides, it’s the three Bs: bathtime, booktime, bedtime.’

Alexei could have punched the air in a victory salute. She was feeling him: the pink in her cheeks, the glitter in those cinnamon eyes. She was just a little nervous. Or it could be anticipation. He had no idea. She wasn’t putting out obvious ‘come and get me’ signals, just little indicators she couldn’t control.

‘I can do that,’ he replied, surging to his feet. Time to get this train on the tracks. He scooped up Kostya, who shrieked with excitement.

‘No, no, you’ll overstimulate him.’ Maisy sighed as she clambered to her feet. She was feeling distinctly unlike herself. Her skin was prickling with awareness and she couldn’t seem to get in enough air. Instinctively she stumbled back to avoid brushing against Alexei as he moved with Kostya, shoving her hands in her jeans’ back pockets to disguise their trembling.

Overstimulation
was
in the air, Alexei reflected ruefully, looking down at her. Damn, she was sexy. He tried not to let his gaze drift south of her pretty mouth. It was very uncool. But he was enjoying that too—the sheer craziness of what was going on.

He followed her upstairs to the nursery, admiring the swing of her round, shapely bottom, knowing absolutely he was going to end tonight with his hands right there and Maisy’s glorious red-gold ringlets spread over his pillow. The certainty stayed with him as he went through the bedtime routine. Maisy kept taking peeks at him when she thought he wasn’t watching. He could read women’s sexual arousal and he could feel Maisy’s deep down to his bones. She just needed a little gentle handling and direction.

‘Will you have dinner with me?’ he said as Maisy grappled
with Kostya’s nappy, and she gave him a wry look. Her nervousness had evaporated under the stress of managing a two-year-old and she was getting mouthy with him. He liked that too.

‘Is that an excuse to get out of here whilst the going’s good?’

‘I can
handle
a nappy, Maisy.’

‘The question is, will you in the future? Or are you going to hire a dozen people to do the job for you?’

The criticism went home. Maisy observed his slight tensing and was glad. It showed he did have an understanding of what Kostya needed. The fact that he was here now, helping her, had gone a long way to calming her fears. She had also managed not to touch him, ogle him, or say anything that could be misconstrued. In fact, she had behaved like a completely sexless plant.

Perfect.

‘Dinner, Maisy?’ he repeated.

‘I usually eat in the dining room at seven,’ she said. ‘Will you join me then?’

Alexei dealt her a look of combined disbelief and complete amusement.

‘I think,
dushka
, we can do better than that.’

Dinner.

Maisy covered her hot face with her hands. She was going to sleep with him. Maybe. It was good to be clear about these things. She wouldn’t think about next week or the month after or the year after that. She would just go for it and damn the consequences. Other women did it all the time.

She was a modern girl. She knew what was on offer.

She was kidding herself.

Maisy groaned and flopped onto her bed. Beside her lay the two outfits she couldn’t decide between. Her one cocktail dress looked too formal and insubstantial, and clearly said,
Take me now. I’m not even wearing a bra.
Definitely not suitable.

The strapless white silk frock was really for the daytime,
but she could dress it up with a necklace, some make-up, and do something fancy with her hair. The bodice was boned and did the work of a bra. Just about.

In the end she made up her eyes and mouth to stand in for the simplicity of her dress and clasped a gold filigree necklace around her neck. She used a clip to twist up her hair so that it toppled in disarray, the tips kissing the curve of her shoulder-blades. She slid her feet into a pair of very high silver heels and used the sliding doors to step out into the courtyard so as not to disturb Kostya.

She climbed the back stairs to the kitchen, feeling a little like Cinderella gearing up for the ball and going in the back way.

‘Maisy,
bella figura
!’ Maria exclaimed in Italian when she came into the kitchen, dusting off her floury hands and leaving the bread she was kneading to come and encircle Maisy, smiling broadly.

‘Dinner with the boss, eh?’ Maria folded her arms, shaking her head.

‘To talk about Kostya,’ Maisy answered primly.

The older woman gave her an old-fashioned look. ‘He’s a good boy,’ observed Maria. ‘But all these parties, these women.’ She threw her hands up expressively.

Parties?
Women?
Maisy just knew she didn’t want to hear any of this. Yet when Maria sighed and went back to kneading the bread she wanted to scream,
And
?

Maria’s raisin-brown eyes slanted sideways at Maisy. ‘What he needs is a good girl who can cook, raise the
bambinos
and keep him happy in the bed, yes?’

Maisy didn’t know where to look. Cook, clean and heat up the sheets … Oh, and don’t forget the baby-making factory. No, thank you.

‘He might have learned the English, and he has the houses in Miami and New York, but he’s European.’ Maria leaned her floury forearms on the board and fixed Maisy with a steely determination at odds with her short, round little body. ‘The
Russian men—they’re like the Italians. They are traditional. Oh, times have moved on, and Alexei is what they say—
a modern guy
—but when he settles down …’

Maria straightened up with a sigh and wiped her hands.

‘He doesn’t particularly strike me as being ready to settle down just yet,’ Maisy muttered, wishing they weren’t having this conversation so close to her sitting down to dinner with him in a strapless dress.

‘If you leave it to the men they’ll
never
be ready,’ said Maria. ‘They always need the little nudge.’

Alexei would need some heavy earth moving equipment and possibly a natural disaster to shift him out of bachelor status, Maisy thought ruefully. He didn’t strike her at all as the marrying type.

‘You must be careful, Maisy,’ said the older woman, her eyes settling on Maisy’s flushed décolletage. ‘He is the real man, and he will chase you, and you’re a nice girl.’

The real man.
That he was, thought Maisy, giving her bodice an upward tug in an effort to reinstate the ‘nice girl’. Preoccupied, she made her way into the dining room. Alexei wasn’t there, but one of his suits was waiting for her. Maisy recognised him as Andrei, the young man who had driven her here on the first day. He was friendly towards her in a way nobody except Maria had been since her arrival and, feeling nervous, she instantly engaged him in conversation about his day as she accompanied him upstairs and onto the roof terrace.

Alexei heard her voice before he saw her, and when she emerged he made the immediate decision never to send another man to fetch Maisy. In future he would undertake that task himself.

She was wearing some sort of frock, but it was difficult to register that when she moved, because the killer heels made her sway and he was pretty sure there was nothing between Maisy and that dress but air. The neckline was relatively modest—she wasn’t spilling out of it, but the shape of her gave the impression she was. It was a dress designed to make a man
think about what was poured into it. He was already planning how to take her out of it.

Maisy felt like a princess as he advanced towards her. Behind him there was a round table dressed in white and crystal, and there he was, in dark formal trousers and an expensive white shirt open at the neck to reveal the tanned strong column of his throat.

This wasn’t a considered discussion about Kostya’s future. This was a date.

‘You always make me wait, Maisy.’

She looked up at him without understanding.

Up close, he saw she’d made a mystery of her cinnamon eyes and her lush mouth was a deep pink. There was a faint scent of exotic flowers clinging to her skin. She’d made an effort to be beautiful for him, he acknowledged. It meant
he
had to make an effort and not ravish her on the table before the first course.

He seated her and sat down across from her.

‘You look beautiful, Maisy.’

She gave him a wry look. It wasn’t the reaction he had been after.

‘Do you always dine here, up on the rooftop?’

‘Occasionally, when the mood strikes.’

He lifted the champagne and decanted some into a flute glass for her and then poured his own. Maisy watched the pale bubbles surge.