The Russian's Acquistion(52)

                Clair swallowed and fell back a step. “What?”

                “You won’t stay at home as I’ve asked, so now I have to take action, don’t I?” He began loosening the knot at his throat.

                “What does that mean? You’re going to tie me up?” Genuine alarm made her retreat several feet in the face of his deliberate advance.

                “It means I have to change and go with you.” He yanked his tie free and draped it over her shoulder as he passed, voice pithy and displeased, but he still made her grin as he said, “Save the tying up for after dark.”

                * * *

                Clair reminded herself she was not behaving like a spoiled socialite. She was a fully grown adult making her own decisions, and Aleksy could do the same. She wasn’t keeping him from his work. His pacing and brooding would not make her feel guilty.

                She refused to set herself up for criticism either, so she took the precaution of checking the weather even though the sky was intensely blue and the sun glanced brilliantly off Moscow’s blanket of snow. The modiste in Paris had tut-tutted about Moscow’s temperatures, taking advantage of Aleksy’s open account to empty her winter fashion collection into Clair’s possession. After noting the windchill warning, Clair pulled on warm socks over the cuffs of her skinny jeans and layered a snug waffle print under a woolen turtleneck.

                Her new faux fur boots were adorable as well as functional, their trim matching a smart leather jacket in the same buff tones. She topped it all with a corduroy baker boy hat and a pair of sunglasses worth more than her last pay packet. When she appeared, Aleksy said nothing, only shrugged into a thick ski jacket and laced up sturdy boots.

                Clair paused inside the exit doors to check directions with the doorman. His English was excellent, but he stammered as he answered her questions, one eye on where Aleksy waited with detached patience. Clair took care to write down the street names phonetically so she could find her way back—exactly as she would have done if Aleksy weren’t coming with her.

                “Planning to ditch me?” he asked as they left the building.

                “Of course not.” Outside, the wind cut like a broadsword, making all her muscles contract and her breath stop in her lungs. She had to clench her teeth against them chattering. “Do you have a preference which way we go?”

                “This is your walk.”

                Clair looked around her, determined not to let his attitude send her slinking back up to the flat. Taking a moment to get her bearings, she started toward the river, not stopping until they were overlooking the frozen water from a bridge twenty minutes later.

                As she marveled at the jagged ice squares forming a broken path in front of the Kremlin, Aleksy withdrew a lip balm from his coat pocket and handed it to her.

                So she wasn’t completely prepared. Smoothing balm over her already drying lips, she thanked him and handed it back, getting a funny feeling in her center when she watched him use it too.

                “You must be outside in winter often if you’re ready for the weather,” she said.

                “It’s still in my pocket from the last time I went skiing.”

                Oh. Of course. “Do you ski a lot?” Somehow she couldn’t connect that detail to a man who was built like an athlete but didn’t seem given to using his body outdoors when he could watch the financials from a treadmill.

                “When I visit my resort, I do.”