ROMANCE: MC BIKER ROMANCE: Bad Boy Biker's Baby (Bad Boy Alpha Male Motorcycle Club Romance) (Contemporary MC Biker Pregnancy Romance) (129 page)

''But surely a messy car can't be the reason. I thought you guys were the real deal,'' Lela said as she picked up a book with a half-naked hero on it.

''No. It's more than that. I realized in Moscow that we aren't right together. I don't love him. I want to feel heat in my lower half when I think of my boyfriend.'' Lela nodded in agreement. She'd been out with so many men, and not one of them had set her alight. ''All I think of when I think of Nathan is chaos,'' Nicki added.

''How did he take it?''

''Badly. He called me some nasty things and dumped me at the door. I guess I deserved it. I said it so suddenly, it must have been a shock for him.''

''You're so intelligent and beautiful you'll find someone at the drop of a hat.'' Lela picked up another book, this time, the hero was holding a blonde woman who was looking at him as if he'd saved her from certain death. ''Look at you. You're tall and thin. Your waist is invisible and up top, you've got a really nice pair. Your ass is the envy of all the girls in the class, and your eyes are stunning. Don't worry you'll have men flocking to you once they know you're single again.'' Suddenly Lela's eyes lit up. ''Or have you already got some dark Russian prince?''

''No. I haven't and can you believe it? I was a very good girl in Russia. Not once did I entertain a man in my chamber.''

''You're chamber? You're definitely reading too many of those ridiculous historical romances. So what are you going to do now? Have you applied to any newspapers yet?''

Oh no not you as well. Why didn't people understand? She wanted to be a freelancer. ''No, don't you remember, I want to go freelance.''

''But.....''

''No buts. I had enough that from Nathan on the way home. He doesn't think I'll be able to make a go of it. He thinks editors won't buy my stories.'' Nicki pulled the trunk on her pink elephant and twisted it in frustration. ''I'm going to do it. It's very important to me. I want to work for myself, not some ego inflated editor. And as for them not wanting to buy my stories, I'm going to tackle such daring subjects that they'll be forced to buy from me.''

Lela cocked her head to one side. She had a habit of doing so when she didn't believe what she was being told. ''Okay. If it's so important to you, I really hope it works. But where are you going to start. I mean you need a story, you'll graduate soon, and your students loans will stop.''

''Maxim Sokolov.''

''What? He's a murderer. He killed the judge presiding over his trial. What was his name? '' Lela asked.

''Hudson. But he was acquitted. In the eyes of the law, he's not guilty. Simple. But after he came to  Brighton Beach, New York, back in the nineties, he set up a vast empire of extortion, drugs and trafficking. I'm going to write about it.''

''You'll get yourself killed,' Lela said without hesitation. ''Do you know how many journalists have been killed by Russians? They are masters at it. As soon as you go sniffing around he will put an end to you. Don't do it.''

*****

Nicki pulled her collar up higher. She was glad she'd worn a scarf. The wind was blowing off the ocean and whistling between the restaurant buildings on the sea front. Only the gulls were enjoying themselves as they surfed the gusts high in the sky.

The Crab and Lobster seemed like a nice place to eat. On the sea front, it looked like a giant beach hut. The wooden boards in the facade painted yellow and the small cross bead windows, white. The door was maroon and contained a ship’s porthole. There was a balcony running the length of the building where clients could eat in summer, and its roof was adorned with lobster pots and pieces of fishing net.

Nicki climbed two steps to the front door and looked through the porthole. Inside, it was as cozy looking as outside. There were about twenty round tables, all with red and white checkered table clothes, and a long bar down the left-hand side with wooden stools in front. The ceiling was covered in sailing paraphernalia. Oars, lobster pots, fishing net, anchors, even a brass ship’s bell that hung down from the ceiling into the middle of the room.

She went inside. She noticed a couple sitting at a table in the far corner. They looked like they were making up after a fight. The woman had a blotched face, and the man a hurt look on his face and they were holding hands across the table. There were only two more people in the restaurant. The waitress was only about eighteen and pretty. Why such a pretty young woman should wear her hair in dreadlocks was beyond Nicki. The other person was a handsome blonde man of about twenty-five. He was tall, and his T-shirt clung to a physique he obviously spent a lot of time honing. Unusually for the time of year, he was wearing jeans shorts that showed off his long tanned legs. Nicki wondered what it would be like to stroke over the soft looking blonde hairs that covered them.

''Coffee please,'' she said, sitting on one of the bars stools. The waitress nodded. Nicki reached down to her bag and took out a notepad.

''You're a reporter then?'' the waitress inquired.

''Do I look like a reporter?'' she replied. She was wearing a pair of faded jeans and a white blouse covered by a gray cardigan. Hardly a giveaway.

''The notepad,'' she said. ''Plus we get hundreds of journalists in here.'' She put a white cup and saucer down in front of Nicki.

''Why so many?''

''They're all after a mafia story.'' She picked up a tea towel and started to polish wine glasses.

''Doesn't the mafia own most of Brighton Beach? Sokolov owns this restaurant.''

''I have no idea. I just come and do my job and go home again. Andrey's my boss, and I'm sure he's not mafia.'' She pointed at the blonde man. When he heard his name, he looked up from his newspaper.

''Talking about me again Mel?'' he joked. He got up and wandered over to Nicki. ''I'm Andrey. It's a bit boring in here at this time of the day. Things don't usually get going until after seven pm.''

''That's okay, I only dropped in for a coffee. It's a lovely restaurant.'' He could have been a Californian surfer, she thought. His fresh face was tanned, and his blonde hair cradled his face in long waves.

''Yes, I love it. It's become part of me. There's always an opportunity to meet new people, like yourself.'' He leaned on the bar and put his foot on the brass foot rail. ''So are you?'' he asked.

''Am I what?'' she replied looking into his blue eyes.

''What Mel said. On the lookout for a mafia story?''

''Okay, I am a journalist. A freelancer. That's someone who works.....''

''I know what a freelancer is,'' he interrupted. ''If you're looking for a mafia story, you're fifteen years too late. All the shootings have stopped, and now it's a respectable area.'' He began to laugh, ''in fact the only bad thing that can happen to you around here, is a seagull messing on your head.''

''I don't know, there are secrets everywhere if you look for them. You for example. You sound Russian, so you have a story to tell. Why did you come here? Where are you from? How many girlfriends have you had? I bet a lot of female readers would enjoy reading about you.'' She put her hand on his arm as if she would be one of them.

''I'm afraid it would be a disappointing story. Tell you what, you tell me how many boyfriends you've had, and I'll tell you how many girlfriends I've had.'' He looked pleased with himself.

''One,'' she said without hesitation.

''I don't' believe you. A hot woman like you has only had one boyfriend. Get out of here.''

''What do you take me for?'' she jested. ''Are you suggesting that I may be loose?''

''Of course not. Sixteen.''

''You've had sixteen girlfriends?'' she exclaimed. ''I don't believe you. You're exaggerating, trying to be macho.''

''Sixteen not including the one night stands,'' he bragged. ''Not too bad for a simple boy from St Petersberg is it?''

''I guess not, but I still don't believe you. So why did you come here from that beautiful city?''

''Have you been there?''

''Last year. I studied for a year in Moscow and went to St Petersberg by train to have a look. It really is a very special place.''

''I came here to better myself,'' he said proudly. ''I had a bad start in life. My dad was killed in the Chechen war and my mother never got over it. I found her one day. Asleep in the kitchen, except she wasn't asleep. She'd taken an overdose.'' His eyes stared into the distance for a few seconds before focusing on her again.

Nicki was shocked. She'd had a relatively easy time of it in comparison. Her parents were both still alive and reasonably well off. ''Jesus that's horrible. Poor you,'' she put her hand on his. ''Does it pain you to talk about it?''

''No. Not nowadays anyway. It was nine years ago and time heals.''

''So have you got any relatives?''

''No, I'm all alone in the world,'' he said as if he liked it that way.

''Well, if you've had so many girlfriends, you probably haven't had time for relatives.''

''I guess not.'' He liked her. She was beautiful and had the same sense of humor. He liked the oval shape of her eyes and the way her hands moved when she talked.

''Andrey, it's almost five and where I'm from it's okay to have a  drink after five. Would you join me?'' She was beginning to enjoy herself and didn't want their conversation to end. In addition,  she was hopeful he could point her in the direction of Maxim Sokolov. She had it on good authority that this was one of Sokolov's restaurants.

''Okay, but you're my guest. Mel, a couple of glasses please.'' The waitress put two small glasses in front of them and handed him a bottle of vodka. ''In Russia we drink vodka, do you like it?''

Nicki hardly ever drunk anything alcoholic and she wasn't at all sure she could stomach a drink as strong as vodka. ''Yes, of course, I love it.''

The way he concentrated as he poured the drinks fascinated her. He reminded her of a young boy she used to sit next to in kindergarten. When he drew a picture, he always held his tongue between his lips. Andrey was doing just that.

''Nazdrovje,'' he said. ''We drink it in one go.''

''Nazdrovje.'' Nicki opened her mouth and downed it in one. ''Jesus, that stings,'' she hissed as her eyes began to water.

He laughed. ''You're not so cool after all are you.'' He put his hand on her shoulder and looked into her eyes. ''You'll live,'' he said as she coughed uncontrollably.

''Let me buy you dinner,'' she said once she'd recovered. ''I'm enjoying out chat.'' What she really mean, was that she was enjoying being with him. His easy manner and good looks had aroused her, and she didn't want it to end. After a glass if vodka she was less focused on getting information about Sokolov and more interested in Andrey and his gorgeous body.

He'd talked her into trying one more vodka, but this time, she'd taken her time to drink it. He'd downed it one and poured himself another which he took with them to a table next to the window. Mel came over and lit the candle that was standing in the middle of the table in a brass candlestick.

''How romantic,'' Nicki said. The vodka had warmed her, and any inhibitions she may have had were gone.

''I think today was my lucky day?'' he said.

''What do you mean?''

''You. You are beautiful. Very beautiful.''

Nicki smiled and put her hand onto his. ''And you've made quite an impression on me.''

They both ate steak with fresh salad. Afterwards, he asked Nicki if she wanted anything else. What she wanted she dare not ask for. But he did.

''Come up to my apartment with me. I live above the restaurant.''

''Don't you have to work?'' she asked buying herself some time to think if this was a good idea.

''It’s eight, and it's quiet. Mel and the chef can handle it. If it isn't busy by now, it won't be later.''

''Okay then let's go.'' Strange, she thought. I have never done this in my life. Never have I gone to a man's apartment on the first date. Maybe that's why you've only had one boyfriend and he's had sixteen girlfriends. . 

His apartment was wonderful. It was under the gable and looked out to the ocean. The end wall was made of glass and had a door in it, which led onto a balcony. He'd placed the sofa so he could look out over the ocean. At the back was a small kitchen and in the middle of the room was a double bed. Nicki noticed how clean it was. That was a good sign she thought, remembering Nathan and his disgusting car.

She stood and looked out over the veranda to the ocean. It was almost dark, and the seafront lights were glistening on the water. A gull came and sat on the veranda rail before impatiently flying off again. When Andrey had made them each a mug of tea, he stood next to her.

''Beautiful isn't it?''

''Yes, very.''

He put the mugs down on the floor and put his arm around her. She turned her head to him, and he kissed her. It was a gentle kiss of exploration. When she opened her mouth to him, he put his tongue into her. They kissed for several minutes, neither of them in a hurry to the next stage. When he eventually made a move, she helped him. She stood back from him, took off her cardigan and began to open her blouse. He quickly took off his T-shirt and when he did, it made her stop. There wasn't an ounce of fat on him. All she could see was brown skin on top of perfectly formed muscles. She had never seen a man with a ribbed stomach. It made her hornier still.