say. “Sealing up cracks should be your area of expertise.”
Adrik nearly choked on his coffee, and she wondered if she had very badly insulted him. She had been aiming for a mild insult, but remembered too late that the ‘New Yorker’ attitude somewhat magnified everything in translation to his Russian mind-set.
“Don’t look so scared,” he said to her at last, and to her further concern he appeared to be laughing into his napkin. “That was a compliment. Maybe not in New York.”
“ No, we just sue each other over unfilled cracks in New York,” she said coldly, and at his repressed snigger, realised too late that she had not offended him at all, but instead had inadvertently made a double entendre. Reddening, she chewed another bite of fluffy waffle, and her stomach added its own insult to her injury by growling in appreciation of the anticipated feast. “I’m a little concerned about what you’re implying.”
“ Of course, what I’m implying is that we should do it on a webcam under a big sign saying ‘Just Married’ and post it online,” he replied sarkily, and dug his fork into his own breakfast. “Don’t be so paranoid…”
“ I’m not paranoid!”
“… I’m just saying we act like a normal couple.” He paused, his loaded fork only midway from his plate. “You do know how to act normal, I hope?”
Christie took a breath and parted her lips to retort, and it struck her that in fact, she had absolutely no idea what ‘normal’ entailed. Normal for a famous PR consultant expertly concealing his private life, maybe. Normal for a small Manhattan gallery owner hiding the fact that she was the most notorious artist recently courting the critics. And maybe normal for a former finishing school graduate who had never once confided in another soul about that damned debutantes’ ball eleven years ago…
But normal for a normal couple? She was clueless…
“ I’ll wing it,” she shrugged. “How hard can it be?”
Adrik looked for a second as though he had a witty answer for that too, and then changed his mind against voicing it aloud, shaking his head and muttering something to himself wryly in Russian.
“What are you saying?” She frowned at him.
“ Reminding myself that this is business,” he replied, and the sudden switch to seriousness in his voice immediately made her regret asking. “If I can role-play as your artist, you can role-play as my fiancée. We will both be winging it.”
Good point . Christie swallowed a mouthful too soon, put aside her fork and reached for the juice to help it down. How confident was he going to be if questioned about the paintings?
“ And if your role-play is convincing enough…” His voice lowered as he continued digging through his plate of food. With barely a glance, he reached for her hand across the table with his free one, ceasing the nervous drumming of her fingers on the crumpled napkin. “I won’t have to start pestering you too soon about what happened to my diamonds.”
It starts here , Christie thought, looking at his fingers entwined with her own, while new sensations snaked up her arm and coiled in her solar plexus, settling even lower down her body. He means now. We’re not negotiating. It’s already happening.
“ Is everything okay with you two?” The waiter checked in on them, and beamed as they both nodded their thanks. He indicated their hands clasped across the table, in a warm gesture of appreciation, before turning away with a sigh. “Such a cute couple…”
* * * *
Adrik still had hold of her hand as they strolled through JFK International, as if they were magnetised by each other. Inwardly cursing the high heels she still wore, Christie was grateful.
“ Do we have time to shop?” she asked. “I need at least a change of footwear.”
“ Sure.” He glanced around. “There’s a Hermès, Ferragamo – a Victoria’s Secret somewhere too…”
“ You wish.”
“ I’ll be at the news stand.” He
Adrik nearly choked on his coffee, and she wondered if she had very badly insulted him. She had been aiming for a mild insult, but remembered too late that the ‘New Yorker’ attitude somewhat magnified everything in translation to his Russian mind-set.
“Don’t look so scared,” he said to her at last, and to her further concern he appeared to be laughing into his napkin. “That was a compliment. Maybe not in New York.”
“ No, we just sue each other over unfilled cracks in New York,” she said coldly, and at his repressed snigger, realised too late that she had not offended him at all, but instead had inadvertently made a double entendre. Reddening, she chewed another bite of fluffy waffle, and her stomach added its own insult to her injury by growling in appreciation of the anticipated feast. “I’m a little concerned about what you’re implying.”
“ Of course, what I’m implying is that we should do it on a webcam under a big sign saying ‘Just Married’ and post it online,” he replied sarkily, and dug his fork into his own breakfast. “Don’t be so paranoid…”
“ I’m not paranoid!”
“… I’m just saying we act like a normal couple.” He paused, his loaded fork only midway from his plate. “You do know how to act normal, I hope?”
Christie took a breath and parted her lips to retort, and it struck her that in fact, she had absolutely no idea what ‘normal’ entailed. Normal for a famous PR consultant expertly concealing his private life, maybe. Normal for a small Manhattan gallery owner hiding the fact that she was the most notorious artist recently courting the critics. And maybe normal for a former finishing school graduate who had never once confided in another soul about that damned debutantes’ ball eleven years ago…
But normal for a normal couple? She was clueless…
“ I’ll wing it,” she shrugged. “How hard can it be?”
Adrik looked for a second as though he had a witty answer for that too, and then changed his mind against voicing it aloud, shaking his head and muttering something to himself wryly in Russian.
“What are you saying?” She frowned at him.
“ Reminding myself that this is business,” he replied, and the sudden switch to seriousness in his voice immediately made her regret asking. “If I can role-play as your artist, you can role-play as my fiancée. We will both be winging it.”
Good point . Christie swallowed a mouthful too soon, put aside her fork and reached for the juice to help it down. How confident was he going to be if questioned about the paintings?
“ And if your role-play is convincing enough…” His voice lowered as he continued digging through his plate of food. With barely a glance, he reached for her hand across the table with his free one, ceasing the nervous drumming of her fingers on the crumpled napkin. “I won’t have to start pestering you too soon about what happened to my diamonds.”
It starts here , Christie thought, looking at his fingers entwined with her own, while new sensations snaked up her arm and coiled in her solar plexus, settling even lower down her body. He means now. We’re not negotiating. It’s already happening.
“ Is everything okay with you two?” The waiter checked in on them, and beamed as they both nodded their thanks. He indicated their hands clasped across the table, in a warm gesture of appreciation, before turning away with a sigh. “Such a cute couple…”
* * * *
Adrik still had hold of her hand as they strolled through JFK International, as if they were magnetised by each other. Inwardly cursing the high heels she still wore, Christie was grateful.
“ Do we have time to shop?” she asked. “I need at least a change of footwear.”
“ Sure.” He glanced around. “There’s a Hermès, Ferragamo – a Victoria’s Secret somewhere too…”
“ You wish.”
“ I’ll be at the news stand.” He
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