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Extra resources for Carol Marinelli - The House of Kolovsky - The Last Kolovsky Playboy
But now, living it, feeling it, when it actually came to it, it was so seamless, so natural, that after a while of talking, after another while of silence and then talking again, when his leg was racked with painful cramping, it was more a response than a thought that led her hand to his thigh. Once it was there, once that jump had been made, she didn’t want to return to a world without the feel of him beneath her fingers, even if she knew that tomorrow she would. His skin was warm, firm and taut beneath her fingers, the contact firing her nerves into a frenzied alert.
She wasn’t even sure if he’d heard her—didn’t even know if he’d factored it in. Kate had. Going over and over and over the nights he’d come to her place, the only common denominator was that Georgie hadn’t been home. Had she been, Kate might not have let him in. So she had the figures ready for the meeting with Belenki, and afterwards, when he came out with a face like thunder, she informed him she had arranged the best table at the casino for him and his date to dine that night. Then finally, after a very long day, she picked up her bag as Aleksi left for his very public night out.
He knew so much more than any of them, and though he denied it—though his father had beaten him into silence because the truth would change everything—it was harder and harder to hide from it now. There was a memory—an image, just a breath, just a realization away—yet no matter how he reached out to it, over and over it slipped from his grasp. Why couldn’t he remember? 43 He pressed his face into the cool mirror, willed clarity to come, and stared into the murky depths of his mind, hoping to God that coming off the pain medication would help clear it somehow.