What did he read in her face?
Surely not her foolish longing for what could never be.
‘I’m thinking you should grab that fishing line. I saw it move.’
Alexei muttered something beneath his breath and grabbed the neglected reel.
It had surprised her that he hadn’t produced sleek, professional-looking fishing rods. Yet these battered hand reels, like the unpretentious boat, seemed as right for Alexei as his architect-designed home and priceless art.
He was a man who couldn’t be labelled and stuck in a box. She wanted to find out more, discover what made him tick. But she resisted the temptation to pry. It could lead to places she couldn’t go.
‘Have you got a fish?’ She leaned forward, fascinated by his sudden alertness.
‘Could be.’ He held the line in one sinewy hand, his attention on the water.
Mina peered over the side but couldn’t see anything.
* * *
Alexei felt the tug on the line and began to reel it in.
There’d be fresh fish for dinner. Not that there was any danger of starving. Marie’s well-stocked kitchen would keep them till she came back with supplies.
Strangely the thought of having company, even Marie and Henri, who were friends as much as employees, didn’t appeal. He wanted more time alone with Carissa.
When she wasn’t driving him to distraction with sexual frustration she was surprisingly restful company. She didn’t pry or quiz him about his private life, yet Alexei had found himself talking far more than usual.
They’d discussed music and art and found more areas where their tastes overlapped than where they’d diverged. They’d discovered a shared passion for football, which made Alexei reassess his unconscious sexism. When, in the past, had he discussed sport with a lover? He’d assumed women weren’t interested.
A chance comment about doing business across continents led to a discussion about the global economy and international trade. Alexei again realised he’d underestimated Carissa.
He felt ashamed that he’d been so shallow. Carissa was unique and she clearly hadn’t been coached by her father. They’d veered into areas he knew were beyond Carter’s expertise. Besides, Carissa had been distracted at the time, cooking. She’d got so caught up in their discussion she’d forgotten the food, till Alexei salvaged it.
She’d shrugged and admitted she wasn’t much of a cook. Then she’d described her one attempt to bake a soufflé and the disastrous result. Carissa’s laughter had wrapped around him like warm silk as her eyes lit at the memory.
Now she looked like an excited kid.
It hit Alexei that if she’d never been in a boat, she’d probably never caught a fish. The thought snagged.
His childhood had been short on fun experiences after his stepfather got his feet under their table. But Alexei had one precious memory of his father teaching him to fish.
He recalled the sun on his face and the breeze off the water, and the scent of baking as his mother laid out a picnic on a blanket. Alexei remembered walking to her, one hand in his dad’s big, sure grasp and the other holding up the fish he’d caught. He’d been so proud, so secure, so innocent that he’d taken everything he had for granted.
It was his final happy memory before the dark days.
‘Here.’ He gave Carissa the line. ‘You do it.’
The excitement in her eyes hit him like a shot of liquor.
‘I can feel it!’ She reeled in, carefully at first, then with more confidence. ‘There it is!’
Silver flashed near the water’s surface but it was Carissa, animated and happy, that captured his attention. Belatedly he grabbed a scoop net and secured the fish as she brought it in.
‘It’s on the small side, isn’t it?’
He saw her gnaw her bottom lip. Her forehead creased as if she were unhappy. Carissa’s frown deepened as the fish struggled. It seemed she had a soft heart.
‘Not the biggest I’ve seen.’ He paused, watching her. ‘It’s almost too small to keep.’ It was a reasonable size, but Carissa was already nodding.