Turning It on (Red Hot Russians) (30 page)

When she was gone, he returned to watching the show. In The Smiling Shark, Jack and Hannah stood beside Cody...and they were smiling. Cody lifted Hannah’s left hand to display the ring. Vlad felt a sick churning in his stomach, and The Male Room audience booed loudly.

Cody brought Hannah to center stage. “What would you like to say to Jack?”

Her strange answer caused Vlad to blink, and the rest of her words were drowned out by screams from The Male Room patrons. Then Hannah pulled her diamond ring from her finger—and flung it at Jack!

Out front, the women went nuts, as the room exploded with wild cheering and applause. They pumped their fists in the air and exchanged high fives. There were shouts of “You go, girl!” and “You don’t need him!” Goose bumps rose on his bare skin, as Vlad realized the women of America had been rooting for Hannah all along. Alone backstage, he smiled and applauded, too, as Hannah strutted out of The Smiling Shark, soundtracked to “What Doesn’t Kill You Makes You Stronger.”

The music grew louder, filling the club, and Vlad realized the DJ had just segued into his number. He’d never danced to this song, but he could improvise. He spun out onto the floor, pumping his body to music and the delighted screams of the women.

He couldn’t have chosen a better swan song. This wasn’t literally his last dance. He would need money to launch his future, and even if he could not yet define it, it was out there waiting for him just the same. Breaking free of what he was, to become who he wanted to be, would not be easy. There would be pain, and times of fear and doubt.

But Hannah had done it.

For the first time, Vlad believed that he could, too.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Hannah made a note on the legal pad beside her laptop, then stretched and rose from the couch. She took a swig of room temperature Pomegranate Splash Nutra-Water, rolled her tight shoulders and went to the window of her new apartment.

Though it was just a little after five, the streetlights were on and the sky over New York City was nearly dark. The first week of “fall back” meant that the days of pleasant weather and sunshine were over, but the change of season was not unwelcome. She had gone through so many changes this year, and for the most part, they were good ones. She preferred to think in terms of new chapters beginning, rather than old ones ending.

The Italian restaurant across Eighth Street wasn’t busy, but people were passing by as the East Village began to stir to life on Saturday night. In a few hours, Hannah would be out, too, meeting friends for dinner, and then going to hear a new band. However, she was in no rush to get ready. With both of her roommates in Atlanta for a weekend conference, Hannah could enjoy the rare luxury of having the bathroom and shower all to herself.

She returned to the couch and the rambling 962-page mess that was the latest installment in a long-running alien invasion series. The bestselling author who penned this steaming pile wouldn’t be happy when he saw her notes, but he should have known better than to send something so unfinished. One of the characters didn’t even have a name; the author had simply used a placeholder, BOB SMITH. Laurie always said the bigger they got, the lazier they got, and this certainly felt phoned-in. Her boss had allegedly assigned it because of Hannah’s mad skills as an editor, but she suspected it was still payback for her ten-week jaunt in Puerto Rico.

She scrolled to the next chapter, and groaned, as the opening scene had six references to BOB SMITH. This book was scheduled for a Memorial Day weekend release, but considering the shape it was in, the Fourth of July might be more realistic. Was there another book they could slot in for late May? With a wistful sigh, she thought of one—a wild tale of courageous male strippers who saved Miami from rampaging monsters. It would’ve been the perfect early summer release.

She’d been thrilled, and surprised, when Vlad’s finished manuscript showed up in her in-box one Monday morning in mid-July. She’d read it and returned it two weeks later, hoping her comments weren’t too discouraging. Vlad said he wanted an honest opinion, and she gave it. Not that the book wasn’t good. It was quite good, especially for a second novel. The plot was unique, and his voice was engaging. The scientist heroine was beautiful and smart, yet layered with enough imperfection that she felt real. But he made a lot of common beginner’s mistakes. Point of view problems. Telling when he needed to show. Grammar issues that resulted from English not being his native language. Nothing fatal, and with the manuscript cleaned up, she would have been confident bringing it to Laurie for possible acquisition.

He thanked her for the feedback, and that was all. In the rush of moving out of her mom’s house and into an apartment with two assistant editors from Bettendorf’s romance imprint, six weeks passed. In September, she stumbled across an article about up-and-coming figure skaters, and noticed that one of the coaches mentioned was an Ivan Shustov. She emailed a link to Vlad and received a one-word reply;
spasiba
, the Russian word for thank you. She’d quickly responded with
ne za chto
, meaning no problem, and spent the rest of the day smiling over their short, but friendly exchange.

That had been their final contact.

The first week in October, she emailed to ask about his progress on the manuscript and offer to read his revisions. The message bounced back. With trembling hands, she retyped the address. Another failure notice. She did a search for his name, and even went to The Male Room website. Neither turned up anything current. His final thank-you took on a poignant quality.

She’d left the office and walked down to the Hudson River, where she sat on a bench for an hour, thinking. Just as Jack and Robynne’s gossip-mag romance had gone from smiling photos and Baby Joy! headlines in May to Betrayal! by August, what she and Vlad had shared on the show was part of the fantasy, too. Not that their feelings weren’t real, at least hers had been, but he apparently wanted to move on, and she would have to accept that.

Some days, it hurt like hell. Yet she’d weathered a lot these past months, and was still standing. She lived where she wanted, and was back on track at work. She had reconnected with her old friends, loved living with her two roommates and had even gone out with a few BOB SMITHs. Alison and Cristal were flying in for a girls’ weekend next month. Daphne regularly sent updates on her new life with Will, down under. In many ways, she had never been happier.

Lessons worth learning were seldom easy.

* * *

Vlad stood on the sidewalk, looking up at the warmly lit windows of the Eighth Street walk-up. A few minutes ago, the curvy shadow of a woman had moved across the curtains in a third-floor apartment, but he’d stayed rooted to his spot. Of all the challenges he had faced since the end of
Last Fling
, this one promised to be the hardest.

The biting late-fall wind stung his cheek, and he was glad for his new wool coat and scarf. He’d been in Manhattan about a week now, and the cold, gray city, so close to the sea, reminded him in some ways of Arkhangelsk. There was crime and trouble here, just like there, but he knew to stay clear of it. The icy wind felt familiar, the fifth-floor walk-up he shared with three other guys seemed more like home than his place in Miami ever had.

Since arriving, he’d passed Hannah’s building several times, but always during the day, when he knew she would be at work. He wanted to wait until everything was signed and settled, before he made his presence known. His future, with or without Hannah, was here and even if their reunion went badly, he was committed to staying.

When Jared had casually mentioned a cousin who was a stage actor in New York City, Vlad was intrigued. When a chance meeting with the cousin became an invitation to replace a roommate who was joining a Broadway touring cast come November, Vlad knew that this was the chance he’d been waiting for, to permanently change his life for the better. His counselor had approved wholeheartedly. So had Uncle Ivan, with whom he had reconnected. Again, his uncle offered to help with university, and this time, Vlad was happy to accept. As of yesterday, he was officially enrolled at NYU for the upcoming semester.

Now, just one thing remained. Would Hannah be happy to see him or slam the door in his face? The shadow moved again in the third-floor apartment. It was time to find out. Inside the building, he located the intercom labeled with her name and two others. He reached beneath the scarf at his throat to touch the crucifix, said a silent prayer for courage and pressed the button.

* * *

The moment she heard his voice through the speaker, Hannah’s hands began to shake. First, he vanishes without a word, and then out of the blue, shows up at her apartment? What the hell? Where had he been? How did he even know where to find her? Her mind was still racing with questions as she waited for him to make his way to the third floor.

When she reached her door, she almost didn’t recognize him. His hair had grown out of the gelled and spiked style he’d worn before, and dark bangs softened his features. The change agreed with him. His face was ruddy from the cold, and his clothes were not summer in the tropics, but late fall in the city—jeans, leather shoes, a black wool coat with a plaid scarf at his throat. Another incongruity he wore well. He smiled as she stood in the doorway. “Hello, Hannah. Surprised to see me?”

Just hearing his voice rekindled feelings she’d not experienced since Puerto Rico, but she was determined not to let excitement get the best of her. “You could say that. How did you find me?”

“Eric gave me your address.”

“I see.” Alison’s last email had mentioned a surprise that might be coming Hannah’s way. She had assumed her friend meant an early holiday gift. “Well...what brings you here?”

“I moved to the city about a week ago. I’m renting with the cousin of a friend, on the Lower East Side, near Manhattan Bridge.”

Hannah’s lips parted, and she felt her eyes open wide. She couldn’t have been more shocked if he had just told her he was catching a space flight to Mars. She shook her head, still trying to wrap her mind around the idea that not only had Vlad reappeared, he was living less than a mile away. “I don’t understand.”

He raised his hands, fingers spread. “I know it’s strange to have me show up like this, and if you’re angry, I don’t blame you. When you told Jack goodbye, it gave me courage to change, too. I moved to a cheap apartment, sold my car, saved everything I could. When I wasn’t dancing, I wrote. I saw a counselor who helped me deal with all the things that happened to me. When the opportunity came to move up here, it felt like the right thing to do.”

“I sent you an email, and it bounced back. Your last message felt like a goodbye. A kind one...but a goodbye just the same.”

“I didn’t intend it to be. At first, it was just, ‘thanks, catch you later.’ You know, casual.

But then I started to go through some very hard, intense times and it was easier to stay away. After that, I shut down my old accounts, preparing to move. I wanted to make a fresh start.”

“If you’d explained that, I would have understood.”

He pressed his mouth into a line, and nodded. “I should have, and if you want me to go, I will. You probably have plans tonight.”

“Not for a while.” Though his sudden appearance still mystified her, she didn’t want him to leave. “What happened to your book? Did you ever finish the revisions?”

His eyes brightened with the enthusiasm he always showed when he talked about his writing. “Not yet, but I’m taking the suggestions you gave me and going through it chapter by chapter. I’ve also enrolled in creative writing course at NYU that starts after New Year.”

“You’re going to school? Oh Vlad, that’s wonderful.”

“Just a class or two at a time, but I’m ready for university now. I got a job, too, teaching at the Chelsea ice rink. The skating director saw my name on the application, and asked if I was relation to Ivan Shustov. Made me happy to tell her yes. The ice dance classes are only a few times a week, so I found something else.” He shrugged, a little embarrassed. “You’re going to laugh.”

“No, I won’t. What’s your other job?”

“I work at a dance studio in my neighborhood, teaching a guys’ strip class.”

She didn’t laugh, but she did smile. “You’ll be very good at that.”

“Thanks.” He smiled back. “Well... I just wanted to come by and tell you those things.”

“I’m glad you did.” The man standing before her was indeed different from the man she knew in Puerto Rico. His happiness was genuine, and there a peace about him that hadn’t been there before. Though she was overjoyed at the changes he’d made, she couldn’t help but wonder if his feelings for her had changed, too.

“Hannah...that isn’t all I wanted to say. I came to tell you something I should have told you in Puerto Rico, but you were with Jack and I didn’t want to complicate your life any more than it was. Now that you aren’t with him...” He paused, and took a deep breath. “I want you to know that I—”

“Love you,” Hannah said. She put her hand to her lips, shocked at the words she had just spoken. They stared at one another in silence, as her heart pounded. Then Vlad’s face brightened with a smile.

“Yes! That’s it, exactly. You took the words straight from my mouth.” He came closer, and clasped her hands in his. “I love you, Hannah. I want us to continue what we started on the show. Even if
Last Fling
wasn’t real, my feelings for you are.”

Her hope soared at hearing him say what she’d dreamed of, yet there were still questions. Things he needed to know, while he could still change his mind. “Are you sure about this?” She took a deep breath. “I’m Jewish, you’re not. And even more than that...” She paused and bit the inside of her lip. She had to be honest, though she feared what it might cost her. “There’s a chance I might not want to have children.”

Vlad nodded, and gazed down at their joined hands. Then he lifted his head to look her straight in the eye. “My religion. Is it a problem for you?”

“No,” she answered, somewhat surprised for him to be asking her. “Is mine a problem for you?”

“No.”

Though it was a relief, it wasn’t what troubled her most. “How about...the other thing?”

“Hannah, I’m here tonight because I love you, not because you meet some checklist I have in mind. Whatever life has in store, I believe it’s how we were meant to be.” His gaze was full of tenderness as he moved reached up to gently stroke her cheek. “Do you want to see where the journey takes us?”

A surge of emotion welled from deep within, and Hannah didn’t know whether she was going to cry, laugh or shout for joy. All she could do was smile and nod, as tears streamed from her eyes, and Vlad took her in his arms.

She melted against him, and desire transported her back to a moonlit beach at Resorte Siete Mares, but this was no fantasy. This was real life—her life—and the man she loved was here in her dinky East Village apartment, kissing her long and hard. The passion, the longing, the thrill of him consumed her. Everything she’d felt before was still there.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and brushed her fingers through his dark hair, which was thick and silky, rather than stiff as she remembered it. She broke the kiss to look into his beautiful eyes, and shifted her gaze toward the bedroom. “I know where I want the journey to start.”

He grinned, smoothing his hands over her back. “I thought you had plans for tonight.”

“I do, and want you to join me. But that’s for later. Right now, the only plan I have involves me, you and a bed.”

Vlad chuckled. “I like that plan. You’re sure about this?” he asked, and lifted her hair to nuzzle the sensitive curve of her neck, just below her earlobe.

“Never more sure of anything.” His nearness made her senses spin and he shrugged out of his coat and scarf, and then brought her close for another long, delicious kiss. In it, she felt sunshine, heard music and knew that as much as she loved him, he loved her, too. Hannah took his hand and led him into the bedroom.