Forevermore

Olivia rubbed her hands together, but when she started to get out of bed, Ava said, “You heard what Dr. Follett said. He wants you to stay out of crowds for now. Too much of a chance of infection. Your father and I will go to the supermarket.”

  She gave Aleksander a look that said she wasn’t going to be told what to do. By anyone. Not even Dr. Follett. Up to the challenge, counselor?

  A little defiance. I like that. “I’ll get the keys,” Aleksander said.

  Their talks were friendly, conversational, and even took on a breezy tone, while still being packed with emotion and candor as he drove to the nearest supermarket and they chose the ingredients together. He waited to see if she was going to tell him anything about why she was being so defiant but when she didn’t he couldn’t contain his curiosity anymore.

  “What is this about?” Aleksander asked her as they walked back to his Mercedes.

  “What is what?” she asked innocently. She didn’t get in though—just kept looking at him, like a deer in headlights.

  She was toying with him now.

  “Dr. Follett spoke to you about ethics. But a second later, you’re arranging to be alone with me.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself.” She let out a laugh. “If I’m arranging anything, it’s to make a pie.”

  Accustomed as he was to women responding to him as a man, Ava’s bluntness was a shock to his system. He stood in front of her and tilted his head. “Is that so?”

  She nodded, leaning into him. They were so close now at each breath she took in his raw pine scent.

  “Well, maybe not completely,” she murmured. Because she was fed up with doing everything right, of being the good girl. Ethics be damned.

  He reached over, touching her chin, turning her face up to his.

  She blinked, clearly caught off guard by the lethal edge in his eyes.

  And she wasn’t alone, he wryly acknowledged. This woman brought out a side of him he didn’t recognize.

  His lungs tightened at the sight of the gemstone eyes glittering in the dimming daylight. With those eyes and her blonde hair, she reminded him of the birds his father used to take him to see in the zoo. Brilliant. Exotic. And so fucking fragile.

  He caught a whiff of her sweet, feminine scent. Instantly he was hard. As if the enticing aroma had a direct connection to his manhood.

  Her heart began to hammer as she waited to be kissed. White-hot excitement curled through the pit of her stomach, searing away her usual discomfort with allowing anyone to touch her beyond her most intimate friends. It was terrifying, exhilarating. Glorious.

  Then her mind sounded an alarm, conjuring thoughts of Otto. She had a nasty feeling that right now, she was on the verge of a painfully—and thoroughly ridiculous—adult infatuation. And the illusions of infatuations inevitably led to disappointment when learning the truth about a lover.

  An expression in her eyes that he couldn’t comprehend came and went and she turned to the car and the moment was shattered.

  He opened the door for her, and putting his hand on the small of her back, he gently pushed her in.

  A memory flashed into his mind as he circled the car and got behind the steering wheel. The memory of the wary and sad look that overcame her face when she asked if he was married had touched him deep, deep inside.

  A sudden tightening of his chest forced him to slow his breathing. The flare of his arousal ebbed as one clear thought penetrated the earlier haze of lust. Someone had taken that audacious, wild woman and warmed themselves with the fire of her passion. And then they had thrown her away. Carelessly. Callously.

  “Is something wrong?”

  For a moment she was silent. “No, nothing.”

  Self-denial wasn’t something that came easy to a conquering man like him but if having her would take time, he would indulge in self-denial. Wanting to put her back into an easy mood, he sighed dramatically. “I hate it when women do that.”

  “Do what?”

  “You ask them what’s wrong and they say nothing, and all the while you know they’re ready to burst into tears or clout you with the nearest blunt object.”

  She laughed. “I wasn’t about to do either of those things.”

  “And so you’re not thinking about what Dr. Follett said to you. Right.”

  She didn’t quite have the fortitude to go the rest of the way and admit she wanted him. Admit that, past betrayals and ethics violations be damned, she wanted this. With him. Right now. It was so overpowering, she thought she might go mad.

  “I thought The Cottage was to the left,” she said, when he made a turn to the right, driving them further into the forest.

  “I’m going to show you some magic.” His smile slanted invitingly and he reached out and laid a hand gently on her knee, once again sending all her vital organs into a state of alarm. “You like magic, don’t you?”

  Ava turned in her seat and studied his profile for a few moments. “And you like magic? I didn’t think an urban workaholic businessman would like magic.”

  “Any good father appreciates magic. Kids love it.” He drove in silence for a moment and then asked, “Is that how I strike you? As a workaholic businessman from the big city?”

  Ava almost laughed at the trace of annoyance in his voice. “Not entirely, though that’s part of you.”

  “You seem to have me all figured out. Rochester and all.”

  “Oh, no.” Ava faced him. “Not at all. I only know how you are here. I can only speculate on how you would be in Manhattan if Olivia was well.”

  His brows lifted. “Would I be different there?”

  “I don’t know.” Ava’s forehead wrinkled in thought. “Wouldn’t you be? Circumstances would. You probably have a house or a big apartment, and there’s a housekeeper who comes in twice a week—no, make that every day—and a maid, a driver, a nanny for Olivia…”

  Caught up in the picture, she gazed off into the distance as the sun set behind the trees, building it further.

  “You have a tower building for your company and your office has a view of Central Park, a very efficient secretary, and thousands of employees you command. You go to business lunches at the club and you play squash with your business’s partners. In negotiations, you’re deadly and very successful. You have your own tailor for shirts and suits and you work out at the gym everyday. There’s the theater and dinner at fancy restaurants on the weekends, along with…tennis—no, make that golf. And more business.”

  Aleksander shook his head, teetering between amused and annoyed. “Have you been stalking me?”

  “No.” Ava shrugged with a small chuckle. “That’s just guesswork. You don’t have to stalk anyone to know how people with a great deal of money behave. And from what I know, you take what you do seriously.”

  Aleksander drove in silence for a while. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, “I’m not certain I’m comfortable with your little outline of my life.”

  “It’s just a sketch,” Ava told him. “I’d have to understand you better to fill in the gaps.”

  “Don’t you?”

  “What?” Ava asked.

  “Understand me well?”

  She laughed, tickled at the absurdity of his question. “No, I don’t understand you. How could I? We only met a short while ago and we live in a different worlds.”

  They reached the top of the road just as the sun disappeared on the horizon and the night sky began to settle quickly.

  He parked on a cul-de-sac, turned off the car lights, and took binoculars from the glove compartment. “Come on.”

  He surprised her when he hopped on the hood and held out his hand for her to join him.

  “Let your eyes adjust to the darkness for a few minutes then look up,” he said, as he stretched out on the hood, leaning his back on the windshield.

  While the sky above Lake Tahoe was beautiful anytime of year, it was impressive during the clear, crisp winter nights; the nearby stars seemed to shine brighter, and the winter Milky Way was just a subtle w
hisk of light passing through the constellation Cassiopeia. On a cloudless night and with a new moon, there was no better time to enjoy the nature in its all glory.

  She tilted her chin up to the sky and took in the dazzling display, hardly moving, hardly breathing. And all she could say was, “Oh.”

  He passed the binoculars to her. “There are some amazing star clusters and nebulae that you’ll see better with these.”

  Inhaling deeply, he put his arm behind his head and absorbed the peacefulness of their surroundings—the trees, mountains, and sky so majestic. The silence, heavy, and yet so comfortable, surrounded them like a blanket.

  He hadn’t watched the stars in a long time, but instead of gazing up, he chose to look at the woman beside him, reliving his first time seeing the stars through her eyes.

  He was experiencing a million new things when he watched her reaction to everything. It made him appreciate what he had despite everything he’d lost—and was going to lose soon.

  And it made him appreciate her.

  A gentle breeze blew a strand of hair across her cheek, and she pulled it away absentmindedly, her eyes still on the sky.

  “The stars are like…a million bright diamonds on a black velvet,” she said quietly, loathe to disturb the calm. “It’s really magical.”

  Her face sparkled with starlight but there was a sadness there, too. He whispered to her, “The only magic I believe in is love.”

  Ava lowered the binoculars and moved her face to look at him. He looked so serious, his face so pensive and calm. She felt a tinge of envy, as wrong as it was, for what he’d shared with Rachel, considering how upended his life had been. But he had experienced real, true love, at least for a while.

  “I don’t know if I believe the same. I loved a man once—or I thought I did. I lived with him for a short time and…” Inadvertently, we created a life together and he left me and our baby daughter when we needed him most. She shook her head because she couldn’t finish.

  It was beyond despicable. It was hurtful just to think about it. It was because of Otto that she never looked at another man in the same way again, and even after all these years, she couldn’t get over what he had done. How can I safely trust any man after that?

  He lifted his hand and touched his fingers to her cheek, running them over the sickness of her skin. His voice was quiet and solemn when he spoke, “Sometimes, I think you’re the saddest person I ever met. And oddly enough, sometimes you’re so happy, so steady, so strong.”

  She should have twisted away. She should have looked away. She should have done something. Instead, she stayed there, looking at him, completely transfixed.

  Captivated.

  Enthralled.

  A deep pulsation of feelings churned her gut in reaction to his deep voice, his words. The fact that he noticed her. Not just kind of looked at her, or talked to her, but seemed to notice her in ways no one else could.

  She didn’t allow anyone to get to know her or notice her. But somehow, Aleksander did. Her entire body tightened and reshaped into something new and deep in a physical response to him.

  “I’m not sad,” she finally whispered, swallowing down the anxious lump of nerves. She hadn’t planned to reveal so much of herself to him, and yet she seemed to be doing exactly that. She’d never realized what a deep well of emptiness she felt, and each moment with him worked toward filling it. “I guess I’m not happy, though, either. But I’m here. That’s the best I can do right now.”

  His hand slid to her jaw and cupped her face as his grayish-green eyes stared into hers. “That’s enough for me.”

  The air between them seemed to heat up as if steam had suddenly replaced all the oxygen. The shadows left them cut off from the world.

  She moved her head a millimeter closer toward the warmth of his touch. No one touched her. Not like this—a soft, sensuous touch.

  It had her gut quivering in delighted response. In want.

  “I can’t figure you out. But I want to.” His eyes stayed on her and he leaned forward. Slowly. “I want to take the sadness away and replace it with something good.”

  Did he actually say that? She gasped.

  His body heat singed her. A dizzy, crazy, spiral of images filled her head. He moved his hand down until he was cupping her nape, and held her still. His eyes were on her mouth and her heart started pounding like it was going to burst from her chest.

  No. Don’t. “And how would you do that?” she asked him breathlessly, trying to distract him.

  “What do you want me to do?” Deep inside he knew that with Ava, things were different. Timing was crucial, so were her feelings.

  Ava felt a little thrill. She definitely had ideas, but expressing them was far too embarrassing. “I might not believe in love, but I still do believe in magic.”

  In the quiet of the night, surrounded by a billion stars, his arm wrapped around her waist and she was tugged against his hard frame, and he leaned down and brushed his lips over hers.

  Desire, along with a far more dangerous sensation, spread through her until she feared she might melt into a puddle of need. Instinctively she lifted her hand and touched his face.

  He savored every slow brush of their mouths. The wet heat when he dipped his tongue between her parted lips. Her shudder when he spread tiny kisses over her upturned face.

  The reminder that he would be returning to his life of illness, sleepless nights, and soon an empty home while this extraordinary woman would leave his life had him fusing their lips with a kiss that bordered on desperation.

  She returned the heat and fury for a blissful second.

  Then with a faint frown she pulled back to study his brooding expression.

  It lasted for barely a minute, but there was so much heat, so much desire in the action that it very nearly took her breath away. And for that moment, everything was perfect.

  “Somehow,”—he touched his fingers to the frown between her eyebrows, smoothing it—“this feels right.”

  And then his heart skipped a beat, because all of a sudden everything felt right.

  It wasn’t just that she was conveniently there. There had been lots of convenient women.

  Ava was different.

  She made him laugh. She made him want to make her laugh. And when he was with her he wanted her like hell, but during those few moments when his body managed to keep itself in check, he was content.

  It was strange, to find a woman who could make him happy just with her mere presence. He didn’t even have to see her, or hear her voice, or even smell her scent. He just had to know that she was there.

  If that wasn’t love, he didn’t know what was.

  Even if this wasn’t love, something about the night, about their two hearts beating together in this complete quiet, felt right.

  And maybe a little like magic.

  Aleksander turned onto his stomach and tried to put the scattered images of the past few days out of his thoughts.

  Normally at night, just before dropping off to sleep, he thought of Rachel.

  But lately, he’d been thinking of Ava instead. Of kissing her at the vista where he and Rachel used to go. His wife had loved that spot. He’d made love to her out there, countless times. It was a holy place; her place.

  And yet in one fell swoop, he’d sullied it.

  Or did I? Rachel would’ve wanted me to continue to enjoy it. She wouldn’t have wanted that place to go to waste.

  Perhaps what was bothering him was how much he’d enjoyed it. He’d wanted more from Ava. Much more. He’d almost forgotten about Rachel in that moment. No, he had forgotten, if only for a few hours.

  Which was why, now, he closed his eyes, straining to summon an image of Rachel.

  He waited, but his late wife’s face didn’t form in his mind. He could only see Ava, with her wide, trusting blue-green eyes, her soft, blonde hair, her shapely and inviting body.

  He wanted her, with a desperation that made his loins ache.

  Furio
us, Aleksander slammed one fist into the mattress and flipped onto his back, training all his considerable energy on remembering Rachel’s face. He couldn’t. After several minutes of concentrated effort, all of it fruitless, panic seized him, and he bolted upright, switched on the lamp and reached for the picture on his nightstand. Rachel smiled back at him from the photograph, as always.

  He focused on her loving smile and thought that she wouldn’t have wanted him to wallow in misery over her memory. She’d want him to go on, live his life, find happiness. But forgetting her face? Wiping the slate clean of every memory that involved her? No, she wouldn’t be happy with that. She’d want to be remembered. She’d want Olivia to remember her. There had to be a right way to go about it; a respectful way that honored the wonderful wife and mother she had been.

  But no matter what he did, Aleksander couldn’t help thinking that he was going about it the wrong way.

  Chapter 21

  Saturday, November 14, 2015

  10:00 a.m.

  * * *

  “Hello young lady, and what would you like for Christmas?” Aleksander’s voice was a low boom as he left his walk-in closet, still wearing pajamas, with a white beard and Santa’s cap.

  Olivia giggled. “Daddy, that’s terrible.”

  Since they’d arrived at The Cottage, nearly every morning had become a slumber party. Either in her bedroom or in his. Sometimes, Matthias brought them breakfast in bed and they lingered in their pajamas late into the morning, watching princess movies and reading stories together.

  “Daddy? I see no daddy here.” Aleksander looked around. “I am Santa Claus. Have you been a good little girl?”

  She rolled her eyes. “If you were really Santa, then you’d know I have been. You can just check your list.”

  He opened his hand as if his palm was a pad of paper, and pretended to scribble something on it. “This one is sassy,” he said, almost to himself, as the wisps of white hair caught on his nose, making him feel like sneezing. “Coal for her.”

  “Daddy!” she shouted, tackling him. He set her gently down on the bed and tickled her ribs as he felt a presence behind him.