Page 71 of Close Pursuit

Memory flooded back all at once of the party with Alex. Him cutting her dress off her. Everything that followed. She’d given herself over to him completely, and he’d made her scream like he’d said he would. Even now, a shudder of delight passed through her to remember the things he’d done to her and with her.

She sat up in the gigantic bed, stretching out the kinks, and looked around the big bedroom, perplexed. Where was Alex? He hadn’t joined her last night at all. No surprise. She seemed to freak him out more than a little. Which she chose to take as a good sign that she was getting through those emotional walls of his.

Naked, she climbed out of bed. There was no sign of her ruined dress anywhere. She peeked through a closed door and found a perfectly organized walk-in closet. Did Alex keep it that neat, or did he have a butler stashed around here somewhere?

She tried another door. This one led to the master bath. It retained a faint trace of humidity as if Alex had been in here since last night to bathe. She did the same, now.

The hot water pounded away most of her soreness from last night. She dried off, wrapped the biggest towel she could find around herself, and prayed for luck. All of her clothes were in the guest bedroom and there was a nun in the condo somewhere, for crying out loud.

She snuck into the hallway and crept down the hall to her room, lurching guiltily as she heard the nun’s voice in the kitchen talking to Dawn. Katie bolted into her room and eased the door shut quickly. Breathing a sigh of relief, she blow dried her hair in the attached bathroom, put on a little make-up, and dressed.

Pasting on a bright smile, she stepped into the kitchen and called a cheery hello to Sister Mary Harris. Chicken that she was, Katie stuck her head in the refrigerator and went hunting for orange juice rather than look the nun in the eye.

The nun looked up from a skillet of scrambled eggs loaded with chopped ham and minced vegetables. It looked insanely tasty. “I figured you’d be hungry after your big night, last night,” the nun announced.

Katie choked on the orange juice she was drinking but managed not to spew it all over the counter.

“Where’s Alex?” she asked when she recovered her breath.

“He went out a while ago. Left a note that he’d be back later this morning.”

Hmm. She didn’t know whether to be worried by that or not. She supposed it was all part of his secretive personality not to share where he was going with her.

“How’s Dawn?”

“A perfect angel. Slept six hours at once last night. Eats well. Digestion regular.”

Katie moved over to the baby who was wriggling happily in a car seat strapped securely to a kitchen chair. Clever improvisation of a high chair.

“Good morning, sweetie,” she cooed at the baby.

Dawn gurgled and waved her arms excitedly.

Sister Mary Harris commented, “She reacts to you as if you’re her mother. But she’s not your biological child?”

“Alex delivered Dawn, but her mother died in childbirth. We were in the middle of a war zone and had to flee, so we took Dawn with us.”

“What does Alex think of her?” the nun asked carefully.

“He’s great with her. He feeds her and changes her and plays with her.”

“Does he hold her?”

Katie turned her full attention on the nun, who suddenly was very busy plating up the scrambled eggs and slices of bacon she pulled out of a warming drawer. “Frequently. Why do you ask?”

The nun sat down at the table, murmured a blessing, and deliberately unfolded a napkin in her lap before answering, “Alex has never been one to show much affection. He never liked to touch others or be touched.”

Katie frowned. “He hugged me and held me all the time during our escape from Zaghastan. I was scared a lot.”

The nun eyed Katie with renewed interest.

They ate in silence for several minutes before Sister Mary Harris spoke again. “I always believed Alex was trying to punish himself by denying himself physical contact with others.”

Katie looked up quickly. “For what?”

The nun shrugged. “Maybe for driving his mother away. Later, he took the sins of the father upon himself, too. No matter how often priests absolved him, he never seemed to believe them.”

“He told me his mother stayed in Russia when he and his father and brothers emigrated.”

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