Promises in the Night: A Classic Romance - Book 2 (17 page)

“Laaarkin! Come here!”

“The natives are getting restless,” Alex muttered as Larkin opened the kitchen door. “Talk about caffeine dependency.”

Larkin was still chuckling over his comment when they entered the dining room. Her smile froze.

There—bigger, blonder and even more magnificent than she’d remembered—stood Vladimir Karpov, all six feet four inches of him swathed in a full-length fur coat that seriously endangered at least three species.

“Well, my love, have you nothing to say to me after so long?” He started toward her.

Before she knew what was happening she was swept up into his arms and enveloped in an embrace that buried her face in the soft fur of his coat. She was acutely aware of the silence in the room and of the tension building inside Alex.

She recovered her equilibrium and her voice simultaneously. “What brings you here?”

“Not the most gracious of greetings,” he said, flashing the room one of his neon smiles, “but it will do for now.” He motioned toward the driveway. “The car picked me up at the airport, and we were on the--how do you put it?--Expressway and I see your town and say, ‘On an American holiday, where else will I find my little bourgeois darling but home?’”

God help her, but her knees were beginning to give way. Just seeing Vladimir catapulted her back in time to when a smile from him meant the world. Old habits, it seemed, were hard to break.

She took a deep breath. “Well, your bourgeois darling is home with her family, Vladimir, enjoying a private family holiday. You should have called.”

His smile widened, and she swore she heard a gasp of admiration from Patti’s vicinity.

“I wish I had, my love. Perhaps then I could have enjoyed your feast.”

Damn it! How did he manage to make the simplest sentence sound so erotic?

“As it is, you’re too late.” She glanced over at Alex, but his eyes were riveted on Vladimir. He wasn’t alone. Everyone’s eyes were riveted on Vladimir.

She cleared her throat and was about to introduce Vladimir to everyone when he noticed Jayne and Bill and swooped them into a furry bear hug.

“How long!” His voice boomed. “How long since I’ve seen you!”

Bill extricated himself from the embrace, spitting out bits of fur coat. Jayne, however, smiled up at the Russian, and only Larkin could see the reserve on her lovely face.

Larkin turned to Alex, who stood perfectly still in the doorway to the dining room, arms folded across his chest. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I wasn’t expecting him here.”

“That’s Karpov, isn’t it?”

She nodded miserably, watching Vladimir weave his spell around Roger and Kurt and a most willing Patti. “Afraid so. He’s never been one to stand on ceremony.”

Alex eyed Karpov’s fur coat. “Or good taste, either.”

“He’s flamboyant. A lot of dancers are like that.”

Suddenly Vladimir was in front of them, with Patti just a few steps behind. She looked positively bedazzled, and it wasn’t difficult at all for Larkin to remember a time when she had felt the same way about him.

The two men stood eye to eye, and Larkin wished she were anyplace but there in her dining room. Siberia didn’t sound bad—it couldn’t be half as cold as the looks they were giving one another.

Vladimir smiled slightly, and she could see that he was trying to figure out exactly where Alex entered into this family scene. She knew she should put her arm around Alex or take his hand or do something that would make their relationship clear, but she felt paralyzed on the spot, unable to think, much less react.

“Vladimir, this is Dr. Alex Jakobs.”

Alex extended his hand and Vladimir shook it.

“Doctor of medicine?”

“Doctor of psychology.”

“I have heard of you somewhere?” Larkin flinched at Vladimir’s words.

Alex, however, kept his cool. “Probably not.”

She cleared her throat, aware of everyone’s eyes upon her. “Alex has a very successful television show on cable, Vladimir. He’s quite well known.”

Vladimir looked directly at Alex. “I should be watching over my shoulder for you, your popularity is so great with Larkin?”

“I can’t speak for my popularity with Larkin, but I would definitely watch over my shoulder, if I were you.”

Vladimir threw his head back and laughed, that big, booming laugh Larkin once loved so well. Now it seemed to overpower the small dining room. He looked down at Larkin, and she wished she could disappear behind the credenza and not come out until Christmas.

“This man is too smart for me,” he said in his heavily accented voice. “Dancers—we say things much better with our bodies.” He put an arm around Larkin’s shoulders. “Some things can be expressed only with the art of movement.”

Jayne moved a step closer to Alex. “I disagree,” she said. “Alex works with words. That, too, is an art.”

The look Alex gave her mother made Larkin realize just how badly she was handling the situation. She’d been taken by surprise, that was it. She’d been prepared to meet Vladimir again at the Center, surrounded by visible proof of her success. Traces of the naive young woman he’d known would be hidden safely behind expensive clothing and a veneer of sophistication only recently acquired. She moved out of his embrace.

Vladimir had no business standing there in her home on a family holiday making her feel as gauche and awkward as he had when they were lovers. He had no business turning a lighthearted occasion into something fraught with more undercurrents than a river in flood.

And she had no business allowing it all to happen.

“Speaking of movement,” she said, her non sequitur giving everyone a second’s pause, “Mom and Patti and I were about to provide some after-dinner entertainment. Would you care to stay?” Polite. Casual. Boring. Certainly he would refuse.

“How can I refuse such an offer? Did I not say movement of all kind is my passion?”

“I don’t recall specifying what kind of entertainment we were offering, Vladimir.”

“Is not necessary, my love. I know you too well. Dance was once as important as I was to you.”

She glanced at Alex, but his face remained impassive.
Say something,
she told herself.
Make it obvious you’re in love with Alex. Don’t let this idiotic situation go on any longer.

“Come on,” Patti urged, her color unnaturally high as she stood next to Vladimir. “Let’s give them that show we promised!”

Vladimir looked from Alex to Larkin then draped his arm across Patti’s shoulders. Patti looked as if she’d won the New York State lottery, and Larkin’s stomach knotted. She’d been in Patti’s position, and she knew the jolt of pure elation Vladimir’s attentions could generate. And even though she knew the flip side of that elation, for a split second she envied Patti the sensation of standing in the eye of the storm.

She looked up at Alex. His handsome face was as closed to her as a locked door. “What should I do?” she asked softly.

“Whatever you want to do.”

“I don’t know what I want to do.”

“And that’s the problem, isn’t it?” For a second the shield dropped, and she saw the pain she’d caused him and her heart twisted.

“Come on,” Patti urged, grabbing Larkin and propelling her toward the doorway. “Let’s get into costume.” She executed a clumsy high kick. “Remember, the show must go on!”

Larkin looked from Alex to Vladimir and back again. The collision between past and present had her reeling.

It was hard for the show to go on when your future was crumbling all around your tap-dancing feet.

A
lex wasn’t prone
to violence by nature, but from the first moment Karpov burst into the house in that ridiculous fur coat of his, Alex had been fighting down the urge to deck him. He liked to think he was a reasonable man, well beyond such primitive outbursts, but every time he looked at Larkin and saw the vulnerable look in her eyes, he wanted his fist to connect with Karpov’s face.

An irrational wish, maybe. But very, very appealing. It hadn’t escaped Alex’s notice that. Bill Walker didn’t seem thrilled to see Karpov again. Bill grunted a hello then went back to discussing football with Roger and Kurt—an unlikely alliance, if ever there was one. Even Jayne, the kindest woman he’d ever met, had difficulty bridging the gap between the social niceties and her real feelings about the Russian. Patti was practically swooning at Karpov’s suede-booted feet, but Alex knew she was a sucker for a handsome face.

All of their reactions made sense to Alex; Larkin’s, however, did not. Where he had expected her to be flustered, she was cool. Where he had expected anger, she was excruciatingly polite. Where he had expected her to cling to his side, making their relationship obvious to Karpov, she made a point of standing alone. And it hurt.

He’d been so busy being jealous over Larkin’s past that it hadn’t occurred to him that it was really her future—their future together—that he had to worry about.

Looking over at Karpov, who was reclining in a lounge chair by the fire watching Larkin with eyes that hid a thousand memories, Alex understood for the first time that he just might lose her.

T
hey tried hard
, but the show was a disaster. Jayne was terrific, but Larkin lacked enthusiasm, and Patti was so busy staring at Vladimir that twice she forgot what she was doing and stumbled over the ribbon laces on her tap shoes. Larkin was glad when Alex looked at his watch and said they’d better leave for the airport in twenty minutes or Bill and Jayne would miss their flight to London. The dinner party broke up.

She followed Roger and Kurt toward the hall closet where the coats were stashed. “Please stay,” she urged. “Alex can take my parents to the airport and—”

“I’m a working man,” Roger said. “Where would Rick’s Place be without their peripatetic piano player? Besides, I’m not going to run interference for you.” He gave a theatrical shiver. “Too dangerous in there for me.”

Kurt said good-night and slipped unobtrusively out onto the porch.

“I don’t need you to run interference, Roger. I’d just like you to stay. We’ve been having such a great time.”

“We have? That’s news to me.”

“Our performance wasn’t very good, was it?”

“It stunk.”

“You could try to be a bit more diplomatic, Lacey.”

“Sometimes it’s kinder to be cruel. I don’t think Dr. J. was having the time of his life, either.”

“He loves tap dancing, even bad tap dancing.”

“The tap dancing wasn’t his problem. It was the audience.”

So Roger had noticed the tension in the room as well. “There’s nothing between Vladimir and me any longer. Alex knows that.”

“You don’t sound too sure, darling.”

“Of course I’m sure.” She tried to keep her voice at a normal pitch: “You saw the way Vladimir was looking at Patti in there.”

“Everyone looked at Patti. It’s hard to ignore a woman who falls into the fireplace!”

“I don’t like you when you’re difficult, Lacey.”

“And I don’t like you when you’re dishonest, Walker.” He put his arm around her. “You’re not still in love with that bozo, are you?”

“God forbid! I’m not a masochist, Roger. Once was more than enough.”

“Glad to hear it, because he made a play for Patti while you were digging up the dance music.”

She was silent for a moment, trying to ignore an irrational twinge of jealousy. “I hope she understands what she’s up against,” she said finally. “Vladimir is the big time when it comes to heartbreak.”

Roger squeezed her shoulder. “Our Miss Franklin knows the rules of the game.”

“There are no rules to the game, Roger. Didn’t anybody ever tell you that?”

“You sound cynical.”

“I was aiming for sophistication.”

“I miss these talks,” Roger said. “Now that you and Dr. J. are a hot item, there doesn’t seem to be as much time.”

She ruffled his short blond hair. Roger seemed happier, more at ease, than ever before. “I miss you, too.”

“Ain’t love grand?” Roger hugged her and slipped into his jacket. “Just hang on to the good doctor. Don’t go getting dazzled by a little glitz and glamour.”

“I’m not in any danger,” she said. “Things between us are long over.”

Roger, however, didn’t seem convinced. “It ain’t over till it’s over, kid.”

“Did you get that from a fortune cookie?”

“No. Yogi Berra, chapter three, verse eighteen.”

With those words of wisdom from an unlikely philosopher, Roger took his leave.

Larkin went back into the dining room. Her parents were upstairs getting ready to depart, and Alex had disappeared out the side door to load the Walkers’ suitcases into the trunk of his car. Patti was in the den changing out of her dance costume and, unfortunately, only Vladimir remained.

He was still magnificent to look at. Age had done nothing to diminish the force of his blond-and-bronzed splendor. He was seated on one of her straight-back dining room chairs, his long legs extended in front of him and his arms casually crossed over his chest. He made jeans and a black sweater look like a full-page ad in
GQ.

“I have to change,” Larkin said, standing in the doorway in her spangled leotard. “If you’d like coffee, there’s some in the kitchen.”

Vladimir unfolded his long, lean body and stood, taking up much more space than he had any right to. Stage presence like his had no place in her bourgeois dining room on Thanksgiving. Day. He was next to her before she could draw another breath, blocking her view of the rest of the room. “I do not like your new friend.”

“I know Roger will be devastated to hear that”

“I do not talk about Roger.”

“Somehow I didn’t think so.” She moved slightly away from him until she felt the dining room wall against her back. “Alex?”

Vladimir nodded. His shimmering blond hair fell across his forehead, and he tossed it back with a gesture that evoked other places, other times. “This is the Alex from your trip to Virginia, yes?”

“Yes.”

“He is your lover?”

“That’s none of your business.”
Not anymore.

“I care about you, Larkin.”

“Then you should be pleased that I’m happy.”

“This Alex is not the right one for you, my love. He is not the sort of man I picture you with.”

Who would have figured Vladimir Karpov to play the spurned lover three years after she walked out the door?

“Any specific complaints?” she asked lightly. “Alex seems perfect to me.”

Vladimir trailed his right hand down the length of her silky hair, and for a split second she felt the heat from his fire.

“But not perfect for you, my love. This Alex is ruled by his intellect. You need a man ruled by passion.”

“I need a man ruled by his heart.”
Tell him you love Alex. Tell him. Put an end to this before it goes any farther.
The words, however, would not come, and she hated herself for it. She’d waited a long time to have Vladimir understand what he lost when she left him, and she wanted to enjoy the victory—however small.

Vladimir, supremely confident even in the most trying circumstances, smiled at her. “We have time,” he said. “I can amuse myself for tonight, but tomorrow you come to me at my hotel, and we talk about the old and the new: I still remember the feel of you in my arms—even after so long.”

Damn him to hell. He always knew how to shift the balance in his favor. Before Larkin could frame an answer, Patti, radiant with anticipation, floated into the room.

“I’m ready,” Patti said, touching his forearm the way an artist would touch the
Pieta.
She turned to Larkin. “Vladimir is taking me to that new club on the Lower East Side.”

He bent down and nuzzled the small redhead behind the ear. “She is a treasure, is she not? I like to exhibit my treasures for all to envy.”

Cynical, wisecracking Patti Franklin, who believed Adam’s first words to Eve were a lie, bought it all—hook, line and sinker.

Vladimir met Larkin’s eyes over. Patti’s head, and the look of sexual promise in his eyes sizzled through her body. The temptation was there, hot and promising and more dangerous than ever.
It ain’t over till it’s over,
Roger’s bit of baseball philosophy, didn’t seem quite so funny any longer.

Old loves altered, old loves faded but old loves rarely died. Not for Alex and apparently not for her. Suddenly the future didn’t seem quite as clear as it had before Vladimir showed up at her doorstep.

She wondered what Yogi Berra would say about that.

H
e waited
an hour until he was certain they were at the airport before he came out of the shadows alongside her house.

He was in luck. Obviously, the shrink had forgotten to double-lock her side door, and jimmying the tumbler was a simple task. He was inside her house within moments.

The kitchen gleamed. Only the faint aroma of turkey and pumpkin pie lingered to give away the fact that a feast had been prepared in that room. He would have liked to have stayed long enough that afternoon to enjoy the food, the sight of her across the table, but the visions that lingered behind his eyes had made it impossible for him to sit still while the bearded man claimed her in front of everyone.

But a promise was a promise. He said he would repair the loose bricks in the fireplace, and repair them he would. He headed through the hallway to the den on the other side of the house, but stopped at the door to her bedroom, suddenly overpowered by the need to have something of hers, to be close to things she touched.

He slid open the top drawer of her dresser and let the silky things drift through his fingers. The scent of her perfume filled his nostrils, and .he wondered how much longer he would be able to go on without her.

Fantasies once were enough.

They weren’t any longer.

“
L
ast call
for passengers boarding Flight 536 to London at Gate 11.”

They just made it in time. Alex, who had been thoroughly enjoying the company of Bill and Jayne Walker, was almost disappointed. “I think they mean business this time, folks.”

Larkin handed Bill her mother’s carry-on luggage. “Alex is right. Unless you guys want to end up crossing the Atlantic in a one-engine Cessna, we’d better get you to the gate.”

“I wouldn’t mind taking a trip in that Cessna one day,” Bill said, shaking Alex’s hand. “I’m going to hold you to that offer of a ride, Alex, and soon.”

Bill’s handshake was as direct and strong as the man himself. “It’s a deal,” Alex said. “When you come back from London, I’ll take both of you up.”

Jayne shivered. “Larkin showed me the pictures of that plane of yours. I’ll have to sign up for one of her fear of flying courses before we go up.”

Larkin and Bill stepped aside to talk business for a moment and Alex hugged Jayne.

“There’s nothing to it,” he said. “You’ll love it.”

“A likely story,” Jayne said, hugging him back. “That’s what they said about the
Titanic.”

“Don’t worry. I promise we won’t hit any icebergs, Jayne.”

“Not like the one we hit this evening?”

For a second he thought he’d missed something. Icebergs on a warmish evening in late November? Then he understood.

“He had no business popping in like that. Larkin should have shown him the door.”

Alex had thought the same thing at the time, but chalked it up to male jealousy. Interesting that Larkin’s mother would share his feelings. He wondered if Jayne had noticed the abrupt change in Larkin as soon as Karpov appeared.

“You taught your daughter well, Jayne. She’s much too polite to toss someone out on his ear.”

Jayne patted his arm: “Don’t let him get to you.”

“I’m doing my best.”

“My daughter is no fool. She knows a good man when she finds one.”

He grinned, looking over at Bill and Larkin. “Takes after her mother, does she?”

“When it comes to the important things in life.” Jayne kissed Alex’s cheek, and he had to force down emotions so intense that tears burned behind his eyelids. “She’s been hurt, Alex, and she’s afraid of being hurt again. She’ll come around.”

Jayne’s words lingered with him as he and Larkin left the airport after seeing them off. The car windows were rolled down, and the damp, salty air washed over them as he drove along the almost deserted Southern State Parkway toward her house. It was unseasonably warm, and Larkin was uncharacteristically quiet—the combination made him jittery and unsure of himself, and twice he had to force his attention back to his driving.

“Is something wrong?” Larkin asked as he exited onto the Robert Moses Parkway and headed south. “Do we need gas?”

“It’s a nice night. How about the beach?”

She nodded but said nothing. Since they left the airport, he and Larkin had talked about Jayne’s dancing, Bill’s football mania, Roger’s relationship and Gordon’s abrupt disappearance before dinner, but not one word had been said about Vladimir Karpov. Alex could sense Larkin distancing herself from him, and the thought that he just might be losing her scared hell out of him.

Tonight’s interlude with Vladimir was only a coming attraction. The Russian was going to be in town, actively involved with the Center for the next five days, and although the workshop would run perfectly without constant supervision, Alex knew that Larkin would be on hand to orchestrate every movement. A week ago that hadn’t bothered him.

Tonight it made him crazy.

He was tired of playing it safe, tired of holding back, tired of not saying exactly what was on his mind. Logic stood him in good stead in his career, but it had no place in matters of the heart.

He loved Larkin and wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, and it was high time he told her.