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She pressed herself tight in his arms. “You could never do what your grandfather did to Ana,” she whispered in his ear. Or what his grandfather had done to him. “Not in a million years.”
“You sound pretty confident.”
“I am,” she replied with a smile. “There’s a reason Ana sings your praises so much. You’re a good man, Stuart Duchenko.” Her heart echoed every word.
Stuart squeezed her tight, and for a second Patience thought she felt his body shake. The moment didn’t last. Slipping out of her embrace, he crossed the hall and moved to a new doorway. There he stood, staring into an unoccupied room. “My pity party must sound pretty pathetic to you.”
Because, he was saying, she’d had it so much worse. Maybe so, but as she’d told him before, it wasn’t a contest. “Everyone needs reassurance once in a while.”
“That so?” A smile made its way to his face as he leaned against the door frame. “Well, in that case, I hope you know how awesome you are, Patience Rush. I’m damn lucky our paths crossed.”
On the contrary, she was the lucky one. She was falling deeper and deeper by the second.
“Thank you for being here.” Leaning forward, he kissed her. A long, lingering kiss, the tenderness of which left Patience’s head spinning. “See you back home?”
Not trusting herself to speak, she nodded. If there was any chance that she could keep her heart from getting involved, that kiss chased it away for good.
CHAPTER NINE
THAT NIGHT, THE TWO of them lay on the deck’s top sofa, legs and bodies entwined like spaghetti, making out like a pair of teenagers. Patience swore Stuart had turned kissing into an art form. One moment his kisses were possessive and demanding, the next they turned so reverent they brought tears to her eyes.
All the while Patience fought the voice in her head warning her that he’d eventually realize she wasn’t good enough.
She was saved from her dark thoughts by Stuart tugging on her lower lip with his teeth. “I think I’m love with your mouth,” he murmured.
Words muttered in the throes of passion, but Patience’s heart jumped all the same. She forced herself to treat the remark as lightly as he intended it to be. Running her bare foot up Stuart’s leg, she thrilled at the way her touch caused a soft groan. “What does lapushka mean?” she asked.
Stuart raised himself up on his elbows. “Seriously?”
“I’m curious.” And she needed the distraction. He might have been only talking about her mouth, but the word love required her to take a step back. “I know tetya means aunt...”
“Lapushka means little paw. And before you ask, I have no idea why she calls me that.”
“I like it. Lapushka.” She drew out the second syllable. “It’s sweet.”
“Better than mon petit chou. French for my little cabbage,” he added when she frowned.
“I thought you didn’t know French.”
“That was the extent of my knowledge.”
“At least now I have something to call Piper next time she calls.”
Stuart didn’t answer. A faraway look found its way to his face. Patience touched his cheek to call him back to the present. “You’re thinking about what Ana told us this afternoon, aren’t you?”
“Grandpa Theodore took so much from her. She could have had a completely different life.” He cast his eyes to the cushion, but not before she caught a flash of regret. “I keep wondering if there isn’t some way I could fix the damage he caused.”
“How? Unless you can turn back time, I don’t think you can.”
“Actually...” With a moan that could best be described as reluctant, Stuart rolled onto his side. The separation wasn’t more than a few inches, but Patience felt the distance immediately and shivered. “I was thinking about that this afternoon.”
“About turning back time?”
“Sort of.”
Now he had her interest. She shifted onto her side as well, propping herself on one elbow so as to give him her full attention. “What do you mean?”
“I was thinking about the painting we saw in the photograph. Ana said Nigel painted all sorts of studies of her.”
“Yes, but she also said your grandfather paid someone to buy all of them.”
“But what if he didn’t? I mean, what if he wasn’t able to buy them all. Ana made it sound like there were a lot of paintings and sketches. It’s possible one or two of them survived. Grandpa Theodore was powerful, but he wasn’t omnipotent. In spite of what he thought.”
“Do you really think a painting exists?”
