Page 21 of The Lies Between Lovers

They also weren’t terribly common in Russia. In fact, she was sure the company had recently suspended sales and manufacturing in the country making the vehicle an even rarer sight.

“Aren’t you worried someone might notice it?” she asked.

“Not really. It’s only been driven a handful of times, and not for anything in particular that someone would know it’s mine.”

“Wait, you said you weren’t supposed to drive?”

At that question, Vaslav shifted his stance back in front of her doorway, effectively blocking off her view—or mostly—of the car. Instead, he put all of her attention right back on him. In a slate gray crew neck, cable knit cashmere sweater and tan khaki pants with sensible leather loafers, a person might think he was just out for a day of visiting. She couldn’t remember seeing him dressed in anything less than a button-down shirt and properly pressed pants. Usually with a blazer nearby to throw on just in case. He’d even trimmed his beard down by a good inch since their trip to Paris, and she had to admit, he cleaned up well.

“Can’t and won’t aren’t the same thing,” Vaslav eventually replied.

“That sounds like the difference between getting caught ... or not.”

“Well, you said it. Not me. And you didn’t answer me—are you busy?”

Gesturing at the towel she wore, Vera said, “I said I just got out of the shower.”

“And then?”

She suppressed the grin trying to form at his persistence. “It is Saturday, so—”

“So nothing?” Vaslav asked, lifting a single brow.

Well ...

Vera shrugged one bare shoulder. “I don’t really have a life—as a few people have pointed out to me lately—so no, I don’t have any plans.”

Instantly, his face darkened. “Who says those things?”

“Nobody important,” she lied.

It was the dark edge creeping into his tone that sent a shiver rolling down Vera’s still-damp spine. She hadn’t even bothered to wrap her hair into a towel before coming to answer the door.

Stepping back from the threshold, she opened it a bit wider to grant him access to her villa and a view of the entryway filled with hanging pots of plants that didn’t need as much light as the rest of the ones in the house.

“I’ll just be a few minutes, if you want to come in for a bit,” she told him.

“Don’t put anything special on,” he replied. “I don’t have plans to leave.”

Vera, already turning to head for the staircase at the far end of the entry hall, spun right back around. “I’m sorry?”

“Not right away,” Vas clarified.

Then, he winked.

She hadn’t been expecting that.

Or his cheeky grin.

Vera damn near melted when his chuckles chased her further down the hall. She’d be a liar if she said that she didn’t like it, though.

*

“Did you just stop by to say hello, or—” Vera’s question halted when she stepped into the kitchen to find Vaslav with a mess spread out on the glass top table. He’d pulled out the two chairs on the side he used to work, pushing them against the far wall. “I thought you said it was good to wait until spring before I planted it?”

Vaslav didn’t even shoot her a glance over his shoulder as he plunged his bare hands—the sleeves of his cashmere sweater had been shoved up to his elbows—into the terracotta pot that her small shrub called home. Other than keeping it in a sunny place, mainly her kitchen windows because they got the most light throughout the day, and watering it a couple of times a week—she didn’t bother it otherwise.

The shrub hadn’t even flowered anything that year.