Page 115 of Heated Rivalry 1
“Did anyone recognize you in the airport?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
Shane nodded. “The cottage is way down a private road. We’ll be totally alone there.”
“No family coming to visit?”
“No, I, uh, I told them I need a couple of weeks of solitude. I told them it was a, I don’t know, psychological thing. Like a mental training meditation thing.”
“So sneaky.”
“We won’t be bothered.”
He noticed Ilya chewing on his thumbnail.
“I’ve, uh, I’ve been looking forward to this,” Shane said.
“Yes. Me too.”
Shane smiled and took one hand off the steering wheel. He reached over and Ilya quickly tangled their fingers together and squeezed.
Two weeks. For two weeks they could pretend that their situation wasn’t impossible.
Ilya was hit with a sudden wave of “holy shit, this is really happening” when Shane parked the car in front of the large lake house that Ilya had seen profiled on television.
Ilya was pretty sure a cottage was usually a lot smaller than this giant, stone-front house, but it was certainly, as Shane had promised, remote. He didn’t think he had ever been anywhere quite like this before; somewhere that he could truly let his guard down and not worry about being recognized.
No wonder Hollander loved it.
Hollander, he realized, had removed Ilya’s bag from the trunk and was carrying it toward the house, as if Ilya was his visiting aunt or something.
“I can carry my own bag.”
Shane just kept walking. “How are your ribs?” he asked.
“My ribs are fine. I can carry the bag.”
“I can’t believe you played with those bruised ribs.”
“You can’t?”
Shane shot him a grin over his shoulder. “I guess I can.”
He opened the door and they stepped inside. It truly was a spectacular house. It was all wide open and spacious, with high ceilings and exposed beams. The opposite wall was floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the lake. Ilya could see an enormous deck with a pool and a hot tub. Beyond that there was a dock and a boathouse.
“Make yourself at home,” Shane said.
Ilya sauntered into the living room. He removed his sunglasses and hooked them on the front of his T-shirt. And here was everything he had seen on that television show: the leather sectional sofa, the spectacular view, and the ridiculously Canadian-looking plaid throw pillows and blankets.
Jesus Christ. He was in Shane Hollander’shome.
“So, I could give you a tour, if you like,” Shane said. “Or, if you’re hungry...like I said, I stocked up on groceries. There’s a beer fridge in the games room next to the pool table...”
Shane was standing a good six feet behind Ilya. Ilya turned away from the view of the lake to face him.
“The tap water here is actually excellent,” Shane continued. He was so obviously nervous. “There’s a natural spring nearby and...”
Ilya closed the distance between them in slow, deliberate steps. Shane tilted his head up to face him, and Ilya could see him swallow.
