An Engagement in Seattle - Debbie Macomber [20]
“Would you like a glass of white wine?” Julia asked him.
“Please.” While she was busy with the wine, he explored his new home. A narrow hallway led to two bedrooms. The larger was dominated by a king-size bed, covered with a bright blue comforter and what seemed like a hundred small pillows. The scent of flowers, violets he guessed, hung in the air. The second bedroom was much smaller and the closet was filled with boxes. A quick examination revealed Christmas decorations.
He returned to the kitchen and took the wineglass from his wife’s hand. Her eyes, so large and dark, appealed to him, but for what he wasn’t sure. One thing was certain: Alek knew he couldn’t wait much longer to make love to her.
Julia felt like a fox about to be released for the hunt. She would soon be cornered, trapped by her own lies. Alek didn’t realize, at least not yet, that she had no intention of sleeping with him. So far he’d been patient and kind, but she couldn’t count on his goodwill lasting.
“I found a couple of chicken breasts in the freezer,” she told him. She felt as though she was in danger of swallowing her heart. She was pretending for all she was worth, acting the role of devoted wife, when she was anything but. “I’ll make a salad.”
He was searching through her drawers, stopping when he came across an old cloth dish towel. He tucked it at his waist and continued to survey her cupboards, taking out a series of ingredients.
He’d chopped an onion, a green pepper and several mushrooms by the time she dragged a stool to the counter. Perhaps she’d learn something about cooking from him. She’d seen Alek working in the laboratory. But now he astonished her with the familiar way he moved about her kitchen, as if this was truly his second home.
“When did you learn to cook?”
“As a boy. My mother insisted and I enjoy it.”
“Thank her for me.”
Alek paused and, glancing her way, smiled. “You can do that yourself someday. I’m doing what I can to arrange for her immigration to the States.”
“If…there’s anything I can do, please let me know.”
He nodded, seemingly pleased by her offer.
Julia drank her wine and refilled both their glasses. Her mind was working at a frantic pace, devising ways of delaying the inevitable moment when he’d learn the truth. Her original plan had been to get him drunk. Two glasses of wine and she was feeling light-headed and a bit tipsy. Alek had consumed the same amount and was completely sober. He wielded a large knife without the slightest hesitation.
Her next thought was to appeal to his sense of honor. A strange tactic, she had to admit, coming from a woman who planned on cheating him out of an intimate relationship. He must recognize that she didn’t love him. This was a business arrangement that profited them both; turning it into something personal could ruin everything.
The kiss. She must’ve been mad to let him kiss her like that. She’d done nothing to resist him. Instead she’d encouraged him, led him to believe she welcomed his touch.
She’d been shaken afterward. It shouldn’t have happened. The very fact that she’d permitted him to hold her and touch her in such an intimate manner defeated her own purpose. Anger rose within her, not at Alek, but at herself for having let things go so far. Now he expected more, and she couldn’t, wouldn’t allow it. She was angry, too, about the enjoyment she’d found in his arms. It was as if she’d been looking for a way to prove herself as a woman, to show him—and everyone else—that she was more feminine than they’d suspected.
Her foolishness had only complicated an already difficult situation.
“More wine?” she asked nervously. The rice was cooking in a covered pot and the chicken was simmering in a delicious-smelling sauce. Alek appeared relaxed and at ease while Julia calculated how many steps it would take to reach the front door.
Alek shook his head. “No more wine for me.”
“I’ll set the table,” she said, slipping down from the stool and moving into the dining room. Soon he’d know.