CHAPTER TWELVE
‘WHENDIDYOUknow you wanted to be an artist?’ Alexei watched as Carissa’s sketch took shape. A couple of swift strokes and there was the outline of his hands. Another and the hint of a wrist appeared.
Watching her work, as he had these last days, left Alexei in no doubt Carissa reallywasan artist, not a spoiled daddy’s girl playing at being something she wasn’t.
She didn’t look up. ‘I never consciously decided. It’s just me. I was always interested in art.’
‘So your father organised for you to attend classes?’
Strange how the mention of Ralph Carter didn’t make him feel that heavy twist in the gut it had before. The anger remained, and indignation, but not the seething sense of urgency. The investigator had a lead on Carter in Switzerland, but for once Alexei wasn’t impatient to confront the man. That would come.
Alexei had other things to occupy him.
Carissa’s brow knotted as she rubbed out a couple of lines and replaced them with others more to her liking.
‘Sorry?’
‘You had art lessons as a child?’
She snorted. ‘I wish. I was self-taught till I went to art school. I’d have loved to have learned sooner. I couldn’t even take art at high school. My father didn’t approve.’
‘He didn’t?’
Carissa shook her head and a tendril of hair escaped her severely pulled-back hairstyle. It flirted over her collarbone as if inviting his attention to the tight white top clinging to her breasts.
Her clothes reminded him that she wasn’t as Alexei had first assumed. Instead of glamorous designer outfits from expensive shopping sprees, she favoured shorts and skirts, skimpy and incredibly sexy. And that black outfit, the leggings and loose T-shirt that didn’t fit with the rest yet seemed right for a woman so obviously comfortable with her body and uninterested in primping.
Carissa didn’t need fancy clothes to hold his attention. She was sexy, vehement, impulsive and had a mischievous sense of humour. She was full of energy and surprising depths.
And he wanted her more than he’d wanted anyone or anything in a long, long time. Perhaps ever.
Acknowledging it made something inside him still. As if the treadmill of his world, driving him on and on, paused, allowing him to take stock.
It was a strange sensation. As if he were an onlooker to his own life, his wants and needs.
And the result of that self-examination? The realisation that, after a lifetime of self-reliance, he wanted more. The laughter and sharing, the warmth of having someone special.
The revelation stopped Alexei’s breath, crushed his lungs and made his heart thunder.
Share his life?
It shouldn’t be a surprise. He had the example of his parents’ loving partnership. Days ago he’d begun toying with the idea of finding someone to start a family with. But now the idea wasn’t abstract. It wasn’t a theoretical, faceless woman who came to mind.
It was one specific woman. One spirited, restful, infuriating, generous woman. A woman about whom he knew so little, yet felt he knew everything important.
Not that this waslove.
Alexei wouldn’t fall victim to sentimentality. But Carissa and he shared more than sex. They’d exercised abstinence for days and he grew more, rather than less, interested. This warmth, respect and liking could form the foundation of a solid relationship.
Instead of rejecting the idea, he felt a quiver of anticipation. It was like the moment he’d realised his first software innovation really worked. That it had the makings of a runaway commercial success. He was a loner but deep down he’d always wanted more than solitude.
Alexei waited for common sense to kick in and object that he’d known Carissa just a week.
It stayed silent.
And all the while the effervescence in his blood signalled he was onto a winning idea.
He always trusted his instincts.