Dear Jane Page 17

“I’ll take you.”

  She narrows her eyes. “I don’t even know who you are. Why would I trust you?”

  I don’t point out that she was just considering getting into the car of a complete stranger. Or that she was considering doing unsavory activities with said stranger. I could tell her it’s because I grew up with three sisters, and I have a big heart. I could tell her that I have six nieces and nephews, that I’m good with babies. I could even hand her my business card and tell her she could ruin me with one call to the media about how I tried to pick her up outside a nightclub. But I don’t say any of those things. Instead, I find myself wanting her to trust me on instinct alone.

  I finally settle on, “Because I’m offering to help you. No strings.”

  “No strings, as in I don’t have to show you my boobs?”

  I almost choke on the laugh that crawls up my chest. “Only if you want to, but remember . . . we men are visual creatures.” I offer her my best playboy smirk, the one that usually makes women swoon, only to find it has no effect on Ryleigh.

  Strange.

  Maybe it’s because she doesn’t know who I am, but she treats me differently than the women I usually meet, as if I’m a regular guy and not a famous millionaire sports star who easily melts women with simply a smile.

  Ryleigh has no idea that I’m Alex Ivan, pro football player for the Chicago Hawks. She doesn’t swoon and bat her eyelashes or try to impress me. In fact, she doesn’t follow any of the normal protocols. Clearly, she’s not a gold digger, because if she were, she could talk me out of way more than three hundred bucks. An even bigger part of me knows I could add several zeroes behind that figure, and she’d need every damn dime.

  “Fine. I’ll take the ride. But it’s going to be a hard pass on the boobs.”

  “Whatever you want.”

  The truth is, she’s gorgeous, and if she wanted to share her body with me, I’d jump at the fucking chance. But something about her no-nonsense demeanor tells me that’s not going to happen, which is probably for the best. I don’t have time to get tangled up in something right now, anyway. I have to focus on myself and my career now more than ever.

  After another moment’s hesitation, Ryleigh looks back at the club one last time, and then to my car. I can see the moment she makes up her mind, letting out a soft sigh.

  “Don’t make me regret this,” she mutters under her breath before she follows me to my car.

  I hit the button on the key fob to start the engine, then unlock the doors. When we slide inside, I turn up the heat and direct the vents toward her.

  “Thank you,” she says, buckling her seat belt. “Nice car.” Her gaze lingers on the sleek wood paneling, supple leather, and chrome fixtures.

  “Thanks,” I murmur, suddenly feeling a little sheepish about the opulence of my luxury sedan while she has to consider back-alley propositions just to feed her baby. No, not her baby, her ex-roommate’s baby, which makes this entire situation even crazier. I shift into drive and pull out onto the road. “So, where to?”

  “Oh, right.” Ryleigh rattles off her address, and I wince.

  I’ve only been to that area of the city once, and it was by accident because I was lost. It’s not a safe or very nice area, and I hate to think about her walking around after dark alone, petite beauty that she is.

  “So, your name, Alexei, is that . . .”

  “Russian. My parents moved here when I was six.” I also have no fucking clue why I told her my name is Alexei. Everyone calls me Alex. Everyone except for my mothers and sisters.

  “Do you remember much of it? Living in Russia? I’ve never been out of the United States. I’ve barely been out of the Midwest.”

  “A little. My parents tried to keep up the traditions for us. They were proud of their heritage. We spoke Russian at home, and every Friday, my mother would make a big traditional meal.”

  “What kinds of foods are in traditional Russian meals? Like borscht?”

  I chuckle. “Borscht is disgusting.” It’s a beet soup that looks like a bowl of blood. “My favorites were the cabbage rolls and herb-and-meat-filled pies she would make.”

  “That sounds amazing. I haven’t eaten a real home-cooked meal in a long time.”

  All this talk about food makes me wonder if she’s hungry, if I should offer to stop and get something for her to eat. Then I decide against it because I don’t want her to feel that I think she’s a charity case. Plus, dinner together seems too personal, and I can’t do personal right now. She’s a big girl. She can feed herself.

  The conversation I just had with my agent at dinner rings through my head. I need to keep my head down and stay focused on winning. Prove that I’m worth the huge contract that was just plopped into my lap. Period.

  “What about you?” I ask. “Family in the area?”

  She shakes her head, folding her hands in her lap. “I was an only child. Both of my parents have passed on.”

  “I’m sorry.” Shit. Now I wish I’d never asked, because her story has gotten even more pitiful.

  She shakes her head, still looking out the windshield. “It’s okay.”

  We drive in silence for a few minutes, and when we get closer to her neighborhood, I spot a superstore that’s all lit up on the corner, one of those twenty-four-hour places. I pull into the parking lot and park the car.

  Ryleigh’s gaze swings to mine, and I can sense the question on her parted lips.

  I recall a piece of advice a coach gave me once about how people would come out of the woodwork asking for money once I signed my first big contract. He recommended instead of giving out cash that I should give them what they need—you know, like paying an electric bill versus handing someone a hundred bucks.

  “Why are you stopping here? My place is still a few blocks away.” She gives me a curious look.

  “Let’s get the stuff you need.” Plus, if she’s lying about the baby, now would be the time to come clean.

  She swallows and nods. “Thank you.”

  I grab a cart and we wander the store aisles, finally locating the baby section. She grabs a package of diapers, the smallest she can find, and places it in the cart. I know how quickly babies go through diapers. Those will only last her a couple of days, and I open my mouth to object. Then I decide I’m being a controlling asshole, and should let her do this her way. Next, we find baby formula, and Ryleigh selects a yellow tub of the stuff, groaning when she sees how expensive it is. Babies go through formula faster than diapers, and I know she needs a few of those tubs, but I stay focused on what she wants.

  “What else do you need?” I ask, turning to face her.

  Under the bright lights, I can see how truly beautiful she is for the first time. Her hair is the color of deep honey. It looked brown outside, but here in the light, shades of gold run through the soft waves. Her skin is like porcelain, soft and creamy, and her eyes are the most striking shade of blue, fringed in thick black lashes. Stunning.

  As if she can sense me watching her, she chews on her lower lip and shakes her head. “I’m really not sure. I don’t know the first thing about babies. She cries a lot, and I . . .”

  “How old is she?”

  “Two months.”

  I push the cart to the next aisle and find what I’m looking for. “Does she use one of these?” I ask, selecting a pacifier.

  “I’m not sure. My ex-roommate left me with almost nothing. It’s worth a shot.”

  I toss a couple of them into the cart and then grab a Boppy pillow. “What about one of these?”

  Ryleigh’s delicately arched eyebrows lift. “What the hell is it?”

  I laugh again, amused by her honesty. “It’s a special pillow. She can do tummy time. Sometimes the crying is due to gas bubbles. This could help.”

  “How do you know so much about babies?” Her eyes widen and lock onto mine.

  I shrug, pushing the cart toward the checkout. “I have six nieces and nephews. I babysit them sometimes.” Whether I want to or
not. I smile, thinking about my sisters shoving one or more babies into my arms anytime we’re at a family gathering.

  We work together unloading the contents of the cart onto the conveyor belt. When the cart is empty, I pull out my gold card and hand it to the cashier.

  Ryleigh stiffens. “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I’ve got this, no worries.”

  She looks at me, and I can see the wheels spinning in her head. She wants to trust me, wants to think I’m being chivalrous and gallant, but she’s wary because she’s likely never had a white knight ride in and save her. I see her underlying distrust, and for some reason, I want to prove to her that tonight, her white knight is real.

  Besides, I’m not letting her spend whatever tip money she made tonight on this. I’m sure she needs it for other things, like fixing her car or feeding herself, not for taking care of a baby unexpectedly dropped off on her doorstep. I still need to get to the bottom of that story, but I sense that now’s not the time.

  The cashier is watching our exchange with narrowed eyes. I smile and whisper to Ryleigh that she can pay me back if she likes, but it’s really not necessary.

  The cashier rings up the items we’ve purchased, and I accept the bags after sliding my credit card back into my wallet.

  Once I have the bags loaded into the back seat of my car, we set off again. A few minutes later, we’ve arrived, and when I park on the street and step out of the car, I get angry.

  Really. Fucking. Angry.

  And my anger only intensifies with every step toward Ryleigh’s apartment.

  Chapter Two

  Ryleigh

  I have no idea how my night has spiraled so far out of control. Scratch that, not my night—my life.

  My roommate, Andi, disappeared more than six months ago, leaving me high and dry with an unpaid rent bill. And then a few days ago, she appeared again out of nowhere, only this time with a baby, promising she’d pay me back and make everything right.

  Stupidly, I believed her, let her in, and she stayed the night. But in the morning, she was gone, leaving little Ella behind with a note that simply said I’m sorry.

  Alexei follows behind me, appraising everything. After I pay Mrs. Henderson and collect Ella, I unlock my front door and shoulder my way inside my darkened apartment. Alexei is right behind me.

  I flip the lights on and wince. Based on this guy’s car, his taste in clothing, and the way he whipped out his gold card like it was nothing to buy a stranger $70 worth of crap, he has money. Probably lots of it. I have almost none, barely enough to pay my rent and eat. And the decor shows it. Everything I own is secondhand. My brown couch sags in the middle, my dining chairs are mismatched, and my curtains are too short to fully cover the window.

  I huff out an exhausted breath and set the baby carrier holding Ella onto the floor by the couch.

  Alexei follows me around like a hulking lion of a man, his deep blue gaze seeing everything.

  He’s angry. That much is certain.

  “It’s freezing in here,” he says, frowning.

  His voice is irritated, but it still manages to rip through me like lightning. It’s deep, rich, and sexy. It doesn’t matter that I don’t want to notice things like this about him; I just do. He’s spellbindingly gorgeous with this commanding presence, and I hate that he’s seeing me at my worst.

  “I turn off the heat when I leave for the day.” I cross the room and adjust the thermostat. But rather than the heat humming to life like I expect, nothing happens. I try again, cursing under my breath. “Shit.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  I shake my head. No way I’m giving him the satisfaction of knowing I might not have paid the heating bill in time. I thought I had a few more days.

  “Your heat doesn’t work?” He crosses the room to inspect the thermostat. He switches the bags he’s carrying to one hand while he fiddles with the settings, but nothing happens. The thing is ancient, and I’m not all that surprised.

  Why didn’t he just drop me off and leave? Why didn’t I just take the bags out of his arms and thank him for the ride and the supplies? Why is he still here?

  He still hasn’t set the bags down yet, like he isn’t sure where to place them, or maybe he doesn’t want to touch anything here. Probably the latter. I wouldn’t either if I were him.

  I cross the room and reach for the bags, but he doesn’t release them. He just gazes at me with those blue eyes, darkened to the color of midnight right now, eyes that see too much. His scent is intoxicating, and I can’t help but breathe it in every time he’s near, a faint combination of leather, spice, and mint that makes my knees weak. It’s been way too long since I was with a man. About as long as it’s been since I ate my last home-cooked meal, if my math is accurate.

  As if on cue, Ella starts to whimper softly, squirming in her seat. The chilly temperature is probably bothering her.

  I’ve been doing my best to hold it all together, not only for my sanity, but also for Ella’s sake, but in this moment, I’m struck with sheer panic. What the hell am I going to do now?

  Alexei doesn’t give me a moment to even process the answer to that question. He simply struts over to the baby carrier and lifts it as though it weighs nothing at all. The damn thing hurts my arm every time I carry it.

  “You guys are coming back to my place. We’ll get this all sorted in the morning.”

  I cross the room to stand toe to toe with him and place my hands on my hips. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know you from Adam. I’m not going home with a complete stranger.”

  “You don’t have much of a choice. I’m not letting you and the baby stay here and freeze tonight. In case you didn’t notice, it’s below thirty outside, and it’s not much warmer in here.”

  “Not letting me?” I sputter.

  “That’s right. Now, get your shit. It’s way past her bedtime.” His gaze flicks to Ella, whose whimper has turned into a full-on cry.

  I sigh and reach for her, lifting her out and bouncing her in my arms. As I expected, it does nothing to calm her.

  “Let me have her.” He takes the baby from me and gently rubs small circles along her tiny back, having dropped the bags right on the floor. “When’s the last time she’s eaten?”

  I check my phone for the time. It’s almost one in the morning now. Mrs. Henderson said Ella had her last bottle at ten. “Almost three hours ago.”

  He nods. “She’s due soon, but let’s see if we can have her hold out until we get to my place. Then we’ll put her down to sleep.”

  He continues patting her back, and when she lets out a huge burp, Alexei smiles. “There we go. Was that the problem, princess?”

  She stops crying briefly, blinking as she searches for the source of the deep voice.

  Holding her carefully in one of his huge arms, he opens a package of pacifiers and washes one in the sink with my anti-bacterial soap, and then gives it to Ella. She immediately begins sucking away, and her renewed cries fade into soft hiccups.

  I blink at him. “How do you know all this?”

  He shrugs. “A gaggle of nieces and nephews, as I mentioned. I’ve been around babies a lot. You pick things up.”

  I’ve never spent much time around a baby, and these last few days have proved it. I have no idea what I’m doing with Ella, and I suddenly realize he’s right. It is way past her bedtime, and it really is freezing here. I can’t be selfish any longer. She’s not mine, but I’ve been entrusted with her care. No matter how pissed I am at Andi right now, I need to do the right thing. For Ella.

  “Fine. We’ll come stay at your place for the night.”

  Alexei only nods, like he expected my response all along. “I’ll get her car seat situated. You want to pack an overnight bag?” he asks, his voice softer. It still manages to tear straight through me.

  “Yeah. It’ll just take me a second.”

  He nods and heads outside into the cold, carrying both Ella, who is now happily sucking away at her pacif
ier in her carrier, as well as the bags of baby stuff we bought at the store.

  Scrubbing one hand over my face, I muster the rest of the energy I have left and head into my bedroom to shove some things into a duffel bag. A change of clothes for both me and Ella, along with my toothbrush. In the kitchen, I toss in a couple of clean bottles, and a small package of baby wipes.

  Then I fiddle with the thermostat one last time before giving up and heading out into the cold. Once I lock my front door, I rejoin Alexei in the car. It’s warm and smells like him, and for some strange reason, that calms me more than it should.

  “Ready?” he asks.

  I turn to face him, taking in the dark scruffy hair dusted along his jaw, his broad shoulders, the firm line of his mouth. “Are you sure? You don’t have to do this.”

  “It’s fine, Ryleigh. It’s just one night, right?”

  I nod. “Do you have a roommate or a . . . a wife, or anything?”

  “No roommate. Definitely no wife. It’s just me. But there are two guest rooms, so you and . . . the baby can pick where you’d like to sleep.”

  “Her name’s Ella.”

  “Ella,” he repeats softly.

  We’re quiet on the ride to Alexei’s place. It’s on the other side of the city in an area known to be where the young, wealthy elite live. He pulls unto an underground parking garage of a towering building, and has to show his credentials to a uniformed security guard who’s working at the gate.

  “Good evening, Mr. Ivan,” the man says, his gaze wandering from Alexei to me, and then to the baby before widening in surprise.

  “Night, Frank,” Alexei says to the guy, then pulls the car ahead when the gate opens. He parks in a well-lit underground parking lot, and then we take the elevator up to the penthouse level.

  I’m having a very Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman moment here. But despite what Alexei saw earlier, I’m not a prostitute, and he certainly won’t be my knight in shining armor.

  Suddenly, I’m struck by the need to correct him. “I wasn’t going to do anything with that guy, you know.”

  He shrugs. “Not my business what you choose to do. I was merely trying to help you out of a situation I didn’t think you wanted to be in.”