Page 50 of Frequency of Attraction

Vadim was jolted awake at an ungodly hour by Quinn’s insistent phone. The woman slept like the dead. When he let her sleep, he snickered to himself. He reached across her prone form to remove the vibrating phone from her nightstand.

Maude, that socialite cousin of hers, had called four times. Texts from her and a few others had been peppered in between. A public relations issue in France, no doubt. Vadim halfway considered not waking her. Quinn’s forehead looked less pinched and her posture less strained these days. She was finally starting to relax. This issue, whatever it may be, would wind her up tight again.

He didn’t understand why she insisted on carrying the burdens of her company and family. An outsider wouldn’t feel the effects as deeply. But Quinn was nothing if not loyal.

Like last night at the restaurant with the old woman. Her outburst had been just the latest in a string of examples of Quinn trying to fight his battles. He’d been fighting alone his entire life. His body and brain had been taxed in his thirty-two years beyond what most would ever endure. He didn’t need a little blonde in his corner. But, he had to admit, with her he felt stronger.

Vadim did not know what to make of that. Of her. Of whatever this clench in his stomach might be as he watched her sleep.

Appearances were important to her, and theirs would be against them. The Partying Pilot and the Billionaire Blonde? That was tabloid fodder. Vadim had nothing to bring to someone like Quinn Geier.

Repeated attempts to wake her failed. He finally had to nip her neck with his teeth to rouse her. Her reflexive sigh and grip on his arms went straight to his cock, but he ignored it. “Maude thinks she needs you.”

Quinn blinked at him sleepily, her blonde hair a messy halo around her head. “She probably does.”

Her gritty accent didn’t help the situation in his briefs. She took her phone from him and swiped through the messages. As he’d predicted, her expression moved from soft with sleep to anxious with worry. She bolted out of the bed, clad in nothing but cotton panties and a tiny tank top, possibly the sexiest thing he’d ever seen a woman wear. Vadim tried not to stare too intently at her curves as she paced and conversed in frantic French. Finally, she hung up.

“Hadrian’s in the hospital. Alcohol poisoning. Then they perforated his stomach while pumping it. I’ve got to get on a flight to Cannes.” She plopped on the bed, fingers flying across the screen of her phone.

Vadim squeezed her knee in solidarity. She flashed him a brief smile. Then she was back on the phone and making plans.

An hour later, before dawn had even broken across Boston, she’d packed and ordered a ride to the airport. She’d asked their private pilot to pick up Vadim later that evening. He hovered in the door of her bedroom watching.

“I’m sad to be missing Mila. She is so sweet, Vadim. A little button.”

“Next time.”

That paused her frenzied movements. Questions flicked across her face, but she didn’t ask them. She slung the travel bag over her shoulder and added her laptop bag on top. Her small frame listed heavily starboard. “You can stay at my place anytime you want to come see her. I’ll have a key made for you.”

Baba Mila would force him to stay at her place, but gratitude rushed through him all the same. Wouldn’t she get tired of getting nothing in return? He stepped to the edge of the bed and pulled her closer by her hip, the jersey fabric of her dress soft under his fingers. He took the leaden bags off her shoulder and dropped them to the floor.

“What are you—”

With both hands dwarfing her cheeks, Vadim’s lips sought hers. Quinn didn’t hesitate. Up on her tiptoes, her body tucked into his perfectly. He clutched her warm form closer and channeled every emotion from the weekend, every wish for the future, every memory of their bodies in darkness into that kiss. He made silent promises with his mouth, with caresses of his thumbs on her cheeks. Their tongues tangoed and Vadim felt possibility in his bones. Stars swirled in her eyes when he pulled away. He hoped she felt that possibility, too.

“Come see me when you get back.” The words were an order and she heard it. Vadim placed her bags back on her shoulder and followed her downstairs.

At the front door, Quinn turned. “Give the Milas my love.”

After she’d gone, he went for a sunrise run. Then he wandered the brownstone, pretending not to notice how perfect the layout would be for a growing family. Since when did he think along those kinds of lines?

Since a beautiful, selfless woman had stumbled onto his path.

He dialed his sister, skipping every preamble when she answered. “Dasha, I found her. I held her.”

Her shriek pierced his eardrum. Before he could share anything else, she relayed the message to their mother. “Tell me everything there is to know about our angel.”

Vadim couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard such joy in his sister’s voice. He filled her in on the surprise playground date, Mila’s sweet voice and round cheeks. “She has our eyes, Dasha. She’s the most beautiful thing in the universe.”

“Can you send us the pictures?”

Shit. “I didn’t take any. But I’m seeing her later today,” he added in response to her protests.

“I can’t believe that woman did that for you. There’s only one reason she’d go to such lengths, but I’ll leave you with your secrets.”

That was for the best. Vadim didn’t know how to talk about Quinn. He didn’t even know how to think about her without getting twisted up inside.

“I’ll send pictures later,” he promised. “And start thinking about a trip to the States. Just think about it.”

---