“Oh, um, well. I’ll just…”
Ida Jane shifted as she cleared her throat.
“Olive, this is Maxim Dolov. He’s my…”
“Boyfriend,” I cut in. I’d pivoted from her desk and moved toward Olive, my hand outstretched, my expression neutral. Tension still coiled in my back, under my T-shirt. “Though I hope to be more than that soon.Muchmore.” I shot Ida Jane a fiery look and she shivered. Oh, yes, she lusted for me. Why wouldn’t she just give in to that need?
No, what Ida Jane and I shared waspure. Real. The heat of it burned away any lies, stripping us down to our most basic responses.
I wanted her. She wanted me. But instead of giving in, I had to play a game of chase, of courting. One I didn’t have time to execute. So, I did what I always did in this situation. Just like on the ice, I played hard, fast, and dirty.
“What are you doing?” Ida Jane asked.
“I met her on her birthday,” I said with an adoring look toward Ida Jane. “But it was I who received the best present.”
“That’s so sweet.” Olive’s expression turned wistful, her brown eyes still wide.
I leaned in a little to say more conspiratorially, “I knew the moment I met her she was the woman for me.” That was true, but I also knew that I’d need to make sure I’d laid a trail for Maurice Lambert to follow. “So, I plan to be around a lot to prove to her that she can trust her heart with me.”
“Maxim.” Ida Jane paused, appearing unsure of what to say next. Because she wanted me to win her over? The dazedness of her expression when I touched her, the way she wavered when I expressed my need to have her in my bed every night and in my life, told me that she’d already fantasized about those things.
Her mind and heart weren’t as ready to take the leap as her body, but I’d continue to seduce her until the rest of her caught up.
“We haven’t made it official because of her ex. She’s worried about how he’ll react to the news, but we will, and soon,” I continued. “There’s no way I can keep my feelings for her secret.” I threw her a grin over my shoulder, loving this charade.
She wanted to kick my ass. I adored her passion, her fire—it called to me as it had from the moment that I saw her giving Dillon such hell. Then I shifted from flirting with my woman to all business.
“That’s part of why I’m here,” I said to Olive. “I wanted to talk to you about her safety.”
* * *
“Thank you for humoring Maxim, Olive,” Ida Jane said, her elbow sharp in my ribs, causing me to wince. She would not let me off the hook in what she considered a presumptuous takeover of her autonomy. I got that. ButIwasn’t letting anything else happen to my krasivaya. Yes, the term of endearment had stuck because Ida Jane was beautiful to me.
I’d tell her so as soon as we were alone, and I’d kiss her into docility. At least, I had to hope our mutual passion would work its magic this time as well. My bag of tricks was pretty empty when it came to Ida Jane Barlow.
Olive tipped her head to the side and simpered. “I did no such thing. He makes good points.” She straightened and turned back into the no-nonsense administrator I knew well. “We want you safe, Ida Jane, and having additional security on this floor will help the kids who come in here feel safe, too, thanks to Maxim’s generosity.”
Ida Jane inhaled through her nose, then offered what was supposed to be a smile but was more like a gnashing of teeth.
“I’ll look these new files over tonight, and we can have Sonya schedule the kids as soon as soon as I set up an intake plan.”
“Good. Great.” Olive faced me, still awestruck. “Um, maybe you could get us tickets to the game sometime. I’m sure the kids would love that. The adults, too.”
“I’ll see what the organization can do,” I said though I wanted to remain silent because I hated the requests—just as I hated fawning fans.
I played hockey. I was good at it. I’d barely scraped out enough of an education to get my GED here. I was no one’s version of success, and I wasn’t willing to pretend otherwise.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Ida Jane chirped, filling the growing silence.
With one last longing look, Olive trotted off.
I took Ida Jane’s elbow and led her down the hall toward the elevator.
“Why’d you shut down like that?” she asked, peering up at me.
“Because your boss liked the idea of me—the professional athlete—notme.”
“Ah.” She relayed so much in that single syllable.
