Breaking the Ice

Deirdre Martin

One

Lennie Buckley had been in Manhattan for more than an hour, and already she was excited.

She’d moved to the Big Apple to attend the Fashion Institute of Technology and get her BFA in fashion design. She’d always loved clothing, the funkier and more unusual, the better. A native of Saranac Lake, a small town in the Adirondacks in New York’s north country, she’d done her best to stand out in what she thought was a straitjacketed, uniform world. She was the girl in high school who didn’t worry about convention. The girl who sewed her own cool clothes. The girl people thought might go places.

At eighteen, she didn’t think college was for her. With the money she’d saved from her part-time job working in a donut shop, she’d gone to Europe, where she bummed around, making enough memories to last a lifetime, but not enough money to stay. She came home dead broke and took a job with the local tailor in Saranac Lake. One year turned to two turned to three turned to four. She’d fallen into a comfortable slacker life, surrounded by people and places she knew well. When one of her best friends died in a car accident on an icy road, it was a wake-up call: she realized life wasn’t a dress rehearsal. Now twenty-seven, it was time for her to get her act together and really make her mark on the world. She applied to FIT, was accepted, and hopped a bus downstate, ready to strut her stuff in the most exciting city in the world.

She’d taken out student loans, but to save even more money, she was staying with her widowed aunt Mary in a part of New York called Hell’s Kitchen. She loved the name; it sounded so gritty. Aunt Mary had always doted on Lennie, maybe because Lennie was the only member of the family who didn’t think she was completely nuts. She was obsessed with her pet parrot, Rudy II. Her first parrot, the original Rudy, had died unexpectedly after close to twenty years of companionship, leaving her aunt distraught. On her most recent visit, Lennie had seen pictures of Rudy all over the apartment, and found that her aunt had even made a recording of Rudy talking that she still occasionally played. Birds had always scared Lennie a little (those shiny, beady eyes and sharp claws), but at least Rudy II didn’t screech and squawk obscenities he’d picked up from Aunt Mary’s late husband the way the original Rudy had. When Lennie saw that Aunt Mary still had the old Singer sewing machine she had loved playing with when she was a little girl, she decided she could put up with Rudy II.

Arriving in New York after a grueling seven-hour bus ride, all Lennie wanted to do was collapse. But Aunt Mary had other plans: after giving Lennie a quick tour of the small apartment, even though nothing had changed since Lennie’s visit six months before, they were off to her aunt’s watering hole, an Irish pub called the Wild Hart that was right around the corner. Aunt Mary wasn’t a heavy drinker, but she was lonely, and the affection and enthusiasm with which she talked about her friends down at the pub revived Lennie. She dutifully walked with her aunt to the pub. They were no sooner through the door than Aunt Mary took her by the arm and started tugging her toward the bar.

She halted beside a somewhat stout, sad-looking man hunched over a battered paperback. The man looked up.

“Joey, this is my niece, Lennie,” Aunt Mary said proudly. “She’s going to be living with me while she goes to college.”

“Lovely to meet you,” said Joey, flashing a charming smile. “It’s not often I make the acquaintance of charming young women like yourself, women who—”

“Can it, Mouth,” a small woman behind the bar cracked affectionately. She, too, smiled at Lennie as she extended a friendly hand. “Hi. I’m Christie Gibson.”

Lennie could see Christie was sizing her up. Perhaps it was what she was wearing: black Doc Marten boots, a short red tartan kilt, black tights, and a faded Patti Smith T-shirt older than she was. Lennie had also lined her eyes thickly with kohl.

“Mrs. C. has been raving about you coming for days,” Christie continued. “Psyched about living in the city?”

“Absolutely.”

“I just work here a few nights a week to earn some extra money. I’m a firefighter.”

Lennie was impressed. “Wow.”

“Where’s Rudy II, Mrs. C.?” Christie asked.

“Resting at home.” Aunt Mary looked at Lennie. “Usually my boy comes with me. Everyone here loves him.”

“Speak for yourself,” grumbled a strapping, white-haired old man behind the bar. He wiped his hands on his apron before he, too, extended a friendly hand to Lennie. “Jimmy O’Brien. My brother, Charlie, and his wife, Kathleen, own the Hart. I’m helpin’ out till my nephew, Liam, gets back from Ireland.”

Lennie liked his Irish accent; it made him sound soft and gentle, not the voice she expected to hear coming out of such a bear of a man.

“Let me go get them so you can meet them,” said Jimmy, hastily slipping out from behind the bar.

“No, really, there’s no—”

Too late. Jimmy was on his way toward the back of the restaurant. Lennie turned to her aunt. “They all seem friendly,” she murmured, pleasantly surprised.

Aunt Mary frowned. “Not everyone is so friendly.” She discreetly tipped her head toward a somber-l ooking older gentleman sitting alone at the far end of the bar. “That’s the Major. Irish. Barely says a word.” She plucked at Lennie’s arm again, this time pulling her to the left, toward a thin, tall, scruffy man nursing a beer.

“PJ, this is my niece, Lennie.”

The man smiled, revealing a row of slightly crooked, slightly yellowed teeth. Definitely a smoker, Lennie thought. Maybe a coffee drinker too. He looked a bit like a professor down on his luck, with his threadbare tweed jacket. Even so, there was an aura of charm about him.

“PJ Leary. Pleased to make your acquaintance. I must say, we all feel as if we know you; your aunt here has been talking about you for weeks.”

Much to her surprise, Lennie found herself blushing.

“PJ is our resident novelist,” Aunt Mary informed Lennie. “Famous.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that,” said PJ modestly. His brow furrowed with concern. “No Rudy?” he asked Aunt Mary.

“He’s not feeling very social today,” Aunt Mary replied with a sigh. “In one of his reflective moods.”

PJ nodded sympathetically, amazing Lennie. Her aunt had told her how everyone down at the Hart loved her parrot, but she’d taken it with a grain of salt, putting it down to her aunt’s somewhat overactive imagination. But it seemed Aunt Mary wasn’t exaggerating.

Aunt Mary pointed toward a table in the dining room, where a group of four men sat laughing. “See the handsome one with the salt-and-pepper hair?” Lennie nodded. “That’s Quinn O’Brien. He’s a well-known newspaper reporter. His parents own this place. I won’t drag you over there; he and his newspaper cronies look like they’re trying to relax. But I’m sure you’ll meet him eventually. He’s taken, by the way. Married to a French woman.”

“I’m not interested in a relationship,” Lennie replied, almost meaning it. Never say never.

“Good,” her aunt said emphatically. “You keep your head down and study.”

A loud laugh went up from another table of men sitting directly across from Quinn O’Brien and his friends, drawing Lennie’s attention. There were seven of them, all well built.

“Who are they?” Lennie asked.

Her aunt’s eyes cut to the table suspiciously. “Hockey players. Their usual bar closed down, and they’ve taken to spending time here. Charlie and Kathleen say they’re nice, but they look like a pack of brutes to me.”

Lennie ignored her aunt’s melodramatic statement. They didn’t look like a pack of brutes to her; they just looked like hockey players. She enjoyed hockey, and had met lots of players over the years, since Saranac Lake was close to Lake Placid, whose Olympic Center hosted various tournaments year-round. None of the players had ever struck her as brutish.

“Ah, here come Charlie and Kathleen,” said Aunt Mary with seeming relief.

Lennie decided that this time, she would be the first to proffer a hand. “Hello,” she said, taking Kathleen O’Brien’s hand. “I’m Lennie Buckley, Mary’s niece.”

Mrs. O’Brien looked momentarily disapproving of Lennie’s outfit (a fleeting reaction Lennie had grown expert at perceiving), and then collected herself. “It’s so lovely to meet you. We’ve heard so much about you.”

Lennie did her best to hide her discomfort as she moved to shake Mr. O’Brien’s hand. What on earth could her aunt be telling people?

“Lovely to meet you,” said Mr. O’Brien, echoing his wife. “Your aunt says you’re here to get a degree in fashion?”

“Yes.”

“Our daughter, Sinead, dresses very fashionably,” said Mrs. O’Brien. “We’ll have to introduce you to her. She’s a lawyer,” she finished proudly.

“I’d love to meet her,” said Lennie. God, all these people were so nice. This wasn’t how she expected New Yorkers to act.

Mrs. O’Brien laid a warm hand on Lennie’s shoulder. “Are you hungry? I’ve just made a new batch of stew.”

“Oh, I’m fine, thanks.”

“You’re sure, now?”

“Yes.”

“All right, then.” She turned her attention to Lennie’s aunt. “We’ll walk over to bingo together Thursday night, yes?”

“Of course.”

“Nice to meet you, love,” Mr. O’Brien said again. He turned to his wife, gallantly offering her his arm. “Back to the kitchen for us, eh, macushla?”

“All work and no play, we are.” Mrs. O’Brien chuckled.

Lennie turned to her aunt. “Would you mind if I went back to the apartment? I feel really zonked all of a sudden.”

“Go ahead, honey. I’m just going to stay about an hour or so to catch up, then I’ll be home.”

Lennie kissed her aunt’s cheek. “Thanks.”

Her aunt smoothed her hair. “I’m so glad you’re here. Though I do wish you dressed a bit more—”

“Normal? Don’t worry; I do sometimes.”

“That’s a relief.”

She and Aunt Mary started back toward the bar. Lennie could have sworn a few of the hockey players checked her out as she walked by, but she couldn’t be sure.

“To Ivan the Terrible!”

Laughing, Sebastian Ivanov tossed a shot of whiskey down his throat as his new teammates toasted him. He’d just played his first game as a second-line winger for the New York Blades, scoring a goal in the last two minutes of the third period that propelled the team to victory over New Jersey. Assistant coach Michael Dante had commended him heartily, and head coach Ty Gallagher, a renowned hard-ass, had offered a curt “Good job.” That was enough for Sebastian; after twelve years of playing in Russian and European hockey leagues, the NHL had finally come knocking—every player’s dream. Acknowledgment from Gallagher was a sure sign he was getting off on the right foot. He fully intended to play his guts out to make sure he proved he could play the North American-style game.

“So, Russky,” said defenseman Ulf Torkelson, slapping him on the back, “what do you think of the Big Apple so far?”

“So far, so good.” In all honesty, he hadn’t really had a chance to explore his new town, what with moving, training camp, pre-season, and now the actual start of the season. Even so, what he had experienced so far delighted him. The people of New York were more outgoing than he’d expected. He loved the city’s unique vibrancy, so different from the mood he often encountered at home. Best of all, there was a sizable Russian population out in Brighton Beach; in fact, his father’s only brother, Yuri, lived there. Sebastian hadn’t seen his uncle in years, and was looking forward to making the trip out to Brooklyn the first chance he got, not only to see his relative but also to eat some Russian food.

“You sign the lease on that apartment you checked out the other day?” asked Eric Mitchell. Sebastian had liked Eric from the minute he met him. The guy didn’t take himself too seriously, except on the ice.

“Yes, of course.”

He’d found a small apartment on the Upper West Side, in what the Realtor told him was “a nice, quiet neighborhood.” This suited Sebastian just fine; despite being single, he was not big into the bar scene. To play well, he needed peace, quiet, rest. He was by no means a stick-in-the-mud, just disciplined.

Sebastian glanced around the Wild Hart. “I like this place,” he said to his teammates. “I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to spend time in the team’s original hangout.”

Jason Mitchell, Eric’s twin brother, grinned proudly. “Great, isn’t it? Eric and me, that’s one of our hobbies: finding new bars to hang out in.”

Ulf snorted. “Oh, you mean like that shithole with the tiki torches a few blocks from Met Gar?”

“That place was great,” Eric shot back.

“Yeah, if you’re over seventy and have cirrhosis of the liver.”

Another teammate, Thad Meyers, looked around. “I think this place is the perfect replacement for the Chapter House. Low key, good food . . .” He raised his beer glass to the Mitchell brothers. “Good job, Mitchy and Mitcho.”

“Thank you,” Eric replied smugly.

Ulf tapped Sebastian on the shoulder, pointing at the small woman behind the bar serving a gaggle of firefighters who had just come in. “What do you think of her, huh? Pretty cute.”

Sebastian studied her. It was true she was cute, but she didn’t stir anything in him. “Not my type.”

“Not my type,” Ulf repeated, mimicking Sebastian’s voice. “I love the way you talk, man. You sound like The Terminator.”

“No, he doesn’t,” scoffed the Blades’ goalie, David Hewson. “Schwarzenegger is Austrian, not Russian.”

“So?” Ulf shot back defensively.

“How would you like it if someone said you sounded Norwegian?” Eric Mitchell chimed in.

“I’m Swedish!”

“Exactly my point, you dick.”

Ulf turned to Sebastian. “Sorry if I offended you, dude.”

“No problem. You didn’t offend me.”

“I’ll let you in on a little secret,” Ulf continued, draping his arm col legially over Sebastian’s shoulder, and exaggerating his fading Swedish accent. “The chicks dig the foreign accent. They think it’s sexy.”

Sebastian nodded thoughtfully. Over the years, he’d heard that from other Russian players who had retired from the NHL and had come home to coach or to play again for the Kontinental League. He was glad being foreign might add to his exoticism, but the players had also told him that Americans knew very little about life in Russia, asking silly questions. It mystified him, since the opposite was true with Russians: they knew a lot about the States.

“You got a girlfriend?” Thad Meyers asked.

Sebastian shook his head. He’d been engaged about three years back to a legal secretary, but in the end it didn’t work out. Since then, he’d dated intermittently, concentrating instead on his career.

“We gotta get you a woman, then,” Thad continued.

“I don’t need one,” said Sebastian with a chuckle. “At least not a girlfriend.”

Ulf looked confused. “What do you mean?”

“I wouldn’t mind”—Sebastian chose his words carefully—“a female friend. Platonic, just to do things with since I’m new to New York, you know?”

“Platonic?” Ulf thrust his head forward in disbelief. “What are you, one of those celibate weirdos or something?”

“What are you, a dick?” Jason shot back at him.

“In my opinion—” Eric started.

“Which no one gives a damn about, but go ahead anyway,” Jason interrupted.

“It’s impossible for a heterosexual man and woman to have a platonic friendship. It just is,” Eric insisted.

“You’re wrong,” countered Sebastian. “I have a friend back in Russia named Valerie. We’re very good friends. We’ve never been in the least bit attracted to one another.” Which was true. Of course, they’d known each other since they were five, but Sebastian saw no reason to mention that.

“Is she a dog?” Ulf asked.

Eric rolled his eyes. “How ’bout we make a deal? I’ll cover your tab if you don’t say another word for the rest of the night.”

“Jerk,” Ulf muttered.

Sebastian hesitated a moment, then decided to ask his friends’ advice. “How should I try to find a girl friend? Someone who might be willing to explore the sights with me?”

David Hewson drained his beer. “Post a personal ad on Craigslist. You’ll probably get a gazillion responses.”

“Yeah, from women who say they just want to be friends, but are really hoping it will turn into a romance,” said Thad.

“You ever been on Craigslist?” Jason asked him.

Thad twisted uncomfortably in his seat. “No, but I’ve heard that’s not uncommon.”

“Yeah, and I’ve heard if you click your heels three times, you’ll be back in Kansas,” said Eric sarcastically. He regarded Sebastian. “Try Craigslist. What have you got to lose?”

Two

Lennie’s excitement over being in New York had transformed itself into love in just seven short days. Classes were slated to begin two weeks after her arrival, giving her time to get her bearings. Subway map in hand, she’d already figured out how to get from her aunt’s place to FIT. She’d visited the Empire State Building, and roamed around Greenwich Village, losing herself in its wonderfully narrow, twisting streets. She’d also been accompanying her aunt to the Hart, and already felt part of their “family.” She felt especially tight with Christie, probably because they were close in age. It was nice to have already made a friend.

Lennie was at the Hart solo tonight—Aunt Mary was home sick with a cold. She sat at the bar for a while, chatting with Christie and listening to PJ Leary prattle on about the novel he was trying to sell (something about leprechauns and magic, talking salmon). Lennie was fascinated at first, but after ten minutes, her eyes started glazing over. Eventually, she removed herself to a small table for two across from the bar so she could go through all the text messages from friends up in Saranac Lake. She was engrossed in a message from her sister, Lauren, when the door of the Wild Hart opened, causing a small breeze to sweep into the room. Lennie glanced up. Standing there was an incredibly good-looking man, his dark brown eyes intently scouring the pub. When his eyes lit on Lennie, he cocked his head questioningly, a small smile of uncertainty playing across his lips. Lennie smiled back. He looked familiar. It took her a minute to place him, but then she remembered: he was one of the hockey players who’d been at the Hart last week.

He obviously took her smile as some sort of sign because he approached her table, extending his hand. “Hello, I’m Sebastian. Are you new to New York?”

“Yes, I am.”

He looked relieved. “I thought you might be.”

Lennie was taken aback. How did he know that?

“I’m Lennie Buckley.”

“Nice to meet you, Lennie. May I buy you a drink?”

“Sure.” He was forward, but Lennie liked it. She was glad Aunt Mary wasn’t here; if she were, she’d probably throw a fit at the sight of Lennie sitting alone with one of the “brutish” hockey players.

“What would you like?” Sebastian asked politely.

“A beer would be fine. Sam Adams?”

“Good choice. I’ll be right back.”

Lennie nodded, watching him as he crossed to the bar and placed his order with Jimmy. Perhaps he was one of the hockey players whose eyes she had felt on her when she walked past their table last week. Maybe he knew she was new to the city because he’d seen Aunt Mary walking her around and introducing her to everyone. That had to be it.

She was struck again by how handsome he was. Lovely, thick, dirty blond hair, and those eyes—intense, yet slightly guarded at the same time. His Russian accent made him even more attractive. She’d met a couple of Russian guys when she was in Europe; they were all very polite and well dressed, priding themselves on their appearance. A little bit cocky too. She caught Christie looking at her, her right eyebrow raised inquisitively. Lennie shrugged and turned up her palms as if to say, “You got me.” “Later,” Christie mouthed.

Sebastian returned to the table with two bottles of Samuel Adams. He looked almost shy as he touched his bottle to hers. “Za vashe zdorov’ye. It means ‘To your health.’ ”

Lennie smiled, charmed. “To your health too.”

Sebastian took a sip of his beer, then looked embarrassed. “Please forgive me—I forgot to ask if you wanted anything to eat.”

Lennie loved his politeness. “I’m fine. But if you want something, go ahead.”

“No, I’m fine as well.” He ran a hand through his hair, relaxing. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Lennie smiled again, intrigued. She wasn’t quite sure what to say, so she let him continue talking.

“I thought you might change your mind. After all, it can be awkward meeting strangers, especially since we haven’t even talked on the phone, only e-mailed.” He took another sip of beer. “I was a little uneasy about going on Craigslist to find a woman who was new to the city like I was, and just wanted to be friends. But when I saw you called yourself ‘New to New York’ and read your e-mail, so friendly and simple, I thought, ‘Ah, now here’s someone I could see spending time with.’ And here you are.”

“Yup, here I am.” He thinks I’m someone else. Lennie knew she should tell him that he’d made a mistake, but she didn’t want to. She was intrigued that he was new to the city, just like her, and wanted to explore it with someone who was also new in town. And he was hot.

Of course, if the person who’d agreed to meet him showed up, she was screwed, but she would cross that bridge when she came to it. For now, it was kind of fun playing with him.

“I like your accent,” Lennie told him.

“What accent?”

They both laughed. Lennie had to be careful what she asked him about. She had no idea what he’d revealed to the real “New to New York,” or what the woman had revealed to him.

Sebastian rolled his beer bottle between his hands. “So, tell me about yourself.”

“What would you like to know that I didn’t already tell you?” Lennie replied carefully.

“How long you’ve been here, what brought you here . . .” There was that look in his eyes again: friendly but intense. Probing. Lennie felt herself responding to it as a mild current of heat made the circuit of her body. She was definitely attracted to him.

Lennie filled him in on the basic details of why she was in New York, figuring that too much info might tip him off to her being an impostor. Every time the pub door opened and a woman walked through it, she held her breath. So far, so good.

He was easy to talk to. She was nervous at first that he might think she was some kind of a flake, but no: he seemed really intrigued by the time she’d spent in Europe, and impressed that she was going to FIT. He was thrilled she liked hockey, as well as skiing and skating. With his chin resting comfortably in his palm, he never once looked bored. She was in no way bored, either, when he told her about himself.

“I was raised in western Siberia, in a very mountainous region. That’s where I learned to ski.”

“And hockey?” Lennie asked.

Sebastian looked sentimental. “I started playing when I was four. My father was my coach for many years.” Sentimentality turned to pride. “I started playing in the Kontinental Hockey League when I was sixteen. Have you ever heard of it?”

“No, but I take it it’s a big deal.”

“A very big deal. It’s Russia’s version of the NHL.”

“When did you come here? To the States?”

“I just got here. I’m playing for the Blades. One of the best teams in the league, you know.”

“I do know.” She found herself fighting disappointment as she reminded herself that he’d placed the ad on Craigslist specifically looking for friendship, and nothing more.

The evening flew, and much to Lennie’s relief, no one had turned up claiming to be “New to New York.”

“So.” For the first time all night, Sebastian looked a little shy. “Would you like to do something next Sunday? Maybe take a sightseeing tour on one of those buses? Unless you think that’s too corny.”

“No, I would love it.” She loved doing touristy stuff. In London she’d taken a tour of the Tower. In Paris she’d gone on one of those boat rides on the Seine.

Sebastian looked pleased. “I’ll find out where the tour starts and meet you there, yes?”

Lennie nodded as they exchanged cell numbers. “What do I owe you for the beer?”

Sebastian looked mystified. “Nothing. On me.”

“That’s not right. I mean, we’re friends. It’s only right I should contribute.”

“Next time, maybe,” he said. He came round the table and pulled out her chair for her like a true gentleman. “It was very nice to meet you,” he said. “Shall I see you home? It’s very late.”

Lennie was charmed. “No, I can manage. I live right around the corner.”

He struck his forehead lightly. “That’s right. With your aunt. Please excuse my forgetting.”

“I forgive you,” she teased. “Good luck with your games this week. I’m sure you’ll do well.”

Sebastian laughed lightly. “I hope so.”

For a split second, Lennie thought he was going to kiss her cheek, but instead he took her hand and squeezed it warmly, causing her heart to sink with disappointment just the tiniest bit. “I’ll see you Sunday. I think it will be fun.”

“Me too.”

“Good night, now.”

“Good night.”

Lennie watched him go, the handsome, intriguing, polite, athletic, charming man with whom she was now “friends.” You just never knew, she marveled. She’d come in here to pass time, and the evening had ended with a social outing next weekend. Amazing.

“Hereone week and you’re already picking up guys, huh?”

Lennie chuckled at Christie’s remark. The minute Sebastian left, Christie wasted no time in frantically waving Lennie over to the bar, greeting her with a single command: “Spill.”

“Nothing to spill about. And PS, I don’t pick up guys.”

Christie was alone behind the bar, cleaning up. Jimmy O’Brien was “dead on his feet,” which was totally understandable, given his age. Still, Christie confided in Lennie that she wondered if Jimmy was just “sticking it to her.” Jimmy was a retired cop. According to Christie, there had always been antagonism between the FDNY and the NYPD. The cops thought the firefighters had it too easy, sitting around “on their asses at the firehouse until called out to a fire,” while they, the cops, were always out on the street, facing down danger. Jealous, Christie told her. She and Jimmy frequently traded snarky remarks. The regulars loved it.

The regulars . . . Hell’s bells, thought Lennie. She’d already figured out the Hart was such a hive of gossip that PJ and The Mouth would tell her aunt she’d spent the night chatting away with one of the hockey players.

“What’s the deal with you and the hottie?” Christie asked.

“God, isn’t he?” Lennie agreed. “He’s new to New York. I’m new to New York. We’re just going to hang out together. That’s it.”

Christie snorted. “Yeah, right.”

“Why is that so hard to believe?”

“Because I was watching you two. You seemed so, I don’t know, connected.”

“Really?” Lennie was pleased.

“Yeah, really. So, what did you find out about him, apart from the fact he’s a hot hockey player for the Blades?”

Lennie told Christie all about Sebastian, trying not to sound like a breathless teenybopper.

“Sounds like a really interesting guy.”

“I know.”

“I bet he’s good in bed.”

Lennie laughed.

“Maybe you’ll get to find out.”

“Doubt it. He just wants to be friends.”

“We’ll see how long that lasts.”

“Did you see his shirt? Fit him really well. Beautifully cut. I’ll bet my bones it’s a Perry Ellis.”

“I have no idea who you’re talking about, but I’ll take your word for it.” Christie began mopping the bar. “So—what? He just picked you at random to sit with?”

Lennie told Christie about the Craigslist screw-up. Christie looked shocked.

“You have balls, Lennie. Seriously. What if the real ‘New to New York’ had turned up?”

“Then I would have been in heaps of trouble. But she didn’t show. Thank God.” She watched Christie stack glasses. “What’s your romantic status?”

“Just broke up with a fellow firefighter. Guy in my house. Talk about stupid. I’ll never do that again.”

“We gotta get you a man.”

“No, thank you. I need time to heal. The bastard ripped my heart out of my chest and threw it to the dogs.”

Lennie winced. “Gotcha.”

“So your aunt—bit of a whack, no?”

“Total whack. But I love her. And she has a sewing machine.”

“You really think you’ll last, living with her?”

“I have to; I can’t really afford to pay rent.”

“How do you deal with that bird?”

“He’s okay.” Lennie was slowly getting used to Rudy II’s squawking, more out of necessity than anything else, since Aunt Mary walked around with him perched on her shoulder most of the time. It was hard to avoid him.

“Eclectic group here,” Christie mused. “But I love it. PJ plucks on my last nerve sometimes, but then I think, ‘Ah, he’s just lonely, poor bastard,’ so I try to make an extra effort to be nice.”

“Mr. and Mrs. O’Brien seem nice,” Lennie observed.

“They’re really nice.” Christie glanced up at the clock. “Goddamn Jimmy! I could have been out of here twenty minutes ago if he wasn’t so ‘tired.’” She stifled a yawn. “What are you and Sebastian doing together, by the way?”

“Going on one of those Big Apple tour buses. Totally lame, I know, but I think it will be fun.”

“Not lame at all. I’ve wanted to do that since I was a little kid. You’ll have to tell me all about it.”

“I will.”

Christie took off her apron, tilting her head in the direction of the kitchen. “Gotta go tell the O’Briens I’m done and ready to lock up. Maybe you and I could go out one night? Hang out?”

“That’d be great. I’ll wait. We can walk out together.”

“Finda lady friend on Craigslist?”

Sebastian looked up from the locker room bench, where he sat lacing up his skates, to see Eric Mitchell regarding him with interest. Sebastian noticed that both the Mitchell brothers wore tiny gold crucifixes around their necks before every game; it was interesting to see what other players’ pregame rituals were. The goalie back in Moscow wouldn’t go out on the ice unless he’d listened to Queen’s “We Are the Champions” at least twice. Sebastian’s ritual was always to do everything from left to right. He put his left leg into his shorts first. He tied his left pads first, laced his left skate first, put on his left glove first. He’d been doing this since he was four.

“Yes,” said Sebastian. “I met her at the Wild Hart last night, and on Sunday, we’re going to take one of those bus tours around New York.”

“No shit.” Ulf Torkelson came closer as he pulled his jersey over his head. “She hot?”

Sebastian scowled. “She’s attractive.” Very attractive, he thought. “But I don’t see what that has to do with anything. We’re just friends.”

“What’s her name?”

“Lennie.”

“What the hell kind of a name is that?” Ulf asked.

“It’s a nickname. Her real name is Leonora.”

“In that case, I’d call myself Lennie too,” said Eric.

“What does she look like?” Ulf prodded.

Sebastian heaved a heavy sigh. Clearly his teammate wasn’t going to let the subject drop. “She’s small with short brown hair. Brown eyes.”

Warm, brown eyes that often looked mischievous. A wonderful sense of humor. An interesting life story. Sebastian couldn’t believe how pumped up he’d felt leaving the Wild Hart the other night, knowing he was going to see Lennie the following Sunday. When he realized he’d been playing their conversation in his head all the way back to his apartment, he started to worry: that didn’t seem like something a man who only wanted to be friends would do.

“Small,” Ulf mused. “She a midget or something?”

“Oh, my God,” said Eric Mitchell, giving the cross around his neck a quick kiss. “You are such an idiot, Ulf.” He turned to Sebastian. “You mean petite, right?”

“Yes. Petite.” Delicate.

“I knew that,” Ulf muttered defensively. “I was just fuckin’ with him.”

“How many responses did you get?” asked Thad Meyers.

“Too many to count,” said Sebastian. “It was overwhelming. I couldn’t read them all.”

“What made you pick this chick?” Ulf asked.

“Her e-mail was very simple. A lot of the others went into very long, confusing stories I didn’t have time for.”

“Any good ones?” Ulf asked wolfishly.

Sebastian stared at him. “You need to get a life. You know this?”

Ulf ignored the insult. “She okay with you being a Commie?”

“Of course,” Sebastian mocked. “I pulled out my wallet, showed her my picture of Karl Marx, and sang ‘The Internationale’ on the top of my lungs. She was quite impressed.”

“Torkelson usually pulls a picture of ABBA out of his wallet when he meets women, don’t you, Ulfie?” asked Eric.

Everyone laughed.

“Bite me,” said Ulf, storming off with a glare.

“He can dish it out but he can’t take it, eh?” Sebastian said to goalie David Hewson, who had joined them after completing his pregame ritual of throwing up.

“Yep. He’s a total pantywaist off the ice,” said Eric. He punched Sebastian’s shoulder playfully. “You ready to rock tonight, Ivan?”

Sebastian grinned. He liked his nickname; it was so stupid it was funny, plus it made him sound formidable. He felt sorry for the Mitchell brothers; their nicknames were Mitchy and Mitcho, respectively.

“Keep playing this well, and Coach Gallagher might actually give you a real compliment,” said Thad. “He give you the famous ‘You have to live, eat, breathe hockey’ speech yet?” The other players groaned.

“At training camp,” said Sebastian. He completely understood where his coach was coming from. But at the same time, Sebastian felt he had the right to enjoy himself in his free time, especially since he was living in one of the most exciting cities in the world.

Assistant Coach Dante popped his head in the locker room door. “All right, you gavones. Let’s get out there and play Blades hockey.”

Pumped with adrenaline, Sebastian walked out of the locker room with his teammates. It was the same feeling he’d had the other night after talking to Lennie. He pushed the thought from his mind, and headed out to the ice.

Three

Lennie arrived at the City Sights NY bus departure spot on Broad-way to find Sebastian already there. She’d been looking forward to this all week. She hadn’t had much time to do anything fun, since she’d been running around getting ready to start school, trying to clear up a few snafus that had cropped up.

She’d worried that it might be awkward when they spoke on the phone in the middle of the week to confirm their plans, but if anything, it was the opposite: they talked for close to half an hour. Lennie liked this guy. She really liked this guy. And maybe, if they spent enough “friend” time together, he would start to like her too.

As she knew would be the case, PJ and The Mouth had ratted her out to her aunt, telling her about the night she’d spent chatting with Sebastian. Aunt Mary had overreacted, going off on some rant about athletes, libidos, and jockstraps. When Lennie challenged her, asking if she’d ever met an athlete, all Aunt Mary could come up with was a guy her late husband used to bowl with. “Bowlers aren’t athletes,” Lennie countered, fleeing the apartment to the sounds of Rudy II imitating her aunt’s warning of “You’ll regret it!”

It was a chilly morning, but since she was dying to sit on the open, top deck of the double-decker, she’d dressed warmly but stylishly: jeans, Uggs, and a gray Aran Isle sweater.

As for Sebastian, Lennie thought he looked pretty damn cool and relaxed: black wraparound sunglasses, a weathered brown leather bomber jacket, and jeans. He just wants to be friends, she reminded herself. Then change his mind, girl, said the little devil sitting on her left shoulder.

“Hello,” he said with a big smile. “You are right on time.”

“I pride myself on being punctual.”

He pulled out two tickets for the tour. “The bus should be here in a few minutes.” He glanced around at the small crowd they were part of. “I don’t think it will be too crowded.”

“No,” Lennie agreed. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to sit upstairs in the open air.”

“So would I. Are you sure you won’t be cold?”

“I’ll be fine. I’m from the north country, remember? Breezy is nothing.”

Sebastian laughed. “Same for me. If you come from Siberia and can’t handle breezy, you are in serious trouble, my friend.”

Lennie gestured at the tickets in his hand. “What do I owe you?”

“Nothing.”

“Sebastian, that’s not right. It makes me very uncomfortable.”

He looked frustrated. “How do I say this? I’m very—traditional. Where I come from, men pay, whether the woman is a lover or a friend. It’s just the way it’s done.”

“But that’s not how it’s done here,” Lennie pointed out softly.

“Listen to me. I’m a professional hockey player. Not to boast, but I make a lot of money. You said you are a student, yes? So let me take care of this.”

Lennie agreed, but she still didn’t feel right about it, even though deep down she was charmed by his old-f ashioned attitude; it felt rather chivalrous. “You can take care of it this time. But next time—”

Sebastian smiled. “We’ll see.”

The tour lasted two and a half hours, covering a lot of territory: Met Gar, Macy’s, the Empire State Building, SoHo, Chinatown, Little Italy, Wall Street, the Lower East Side, South Street Seaport, Rockefeller Center, Central Park, and more. Lennie was exhilarated, but at times she had a hard time paying attention to what the tour guide was saying, since she and Sebastian were squished close together on a bus seat for two. He was a big man; there was no avoiding their touching unless he somehow leaned away from her, which would have been extremely uncomfortable. If he was aware of how aware she was of their being in contact, he certainly didn’t show it.

“This is great,” Lennie enthused during one of the breaks when the tour guide wasn’t talking. “I mean, all those places we’ve seen so far? I want to check out all of them, except the Empire State Building. I’ve already been there.”

“There isn’t much to Met Gar. I can attest to that.”

“Maybe I can come see you play sometime.”

Sebastian nodded slowly. Lennie wondered if she was coming on too strong; it was tough to get a read on him with his eyes obscured by his sunglasses.

She touched the arm of his leather jacket. “This is really nice. Do you know who the designer is?”

“No idea.”

“Mind if I check the label?”

“Uh, no, go ahead.”

She turned around on the bus seat and knelt, pulling the collar of his jacket slightly away from the nape of his neck. She caught a scent of cologne; it made her want to lean closer to his skin and inhale deeply, but she didn’t dare. She focused on the label.

“Giorgio Armani. Nice.”

Sebastian held out one of his arms, looking at the sleeve. “I like nice clothing.”

“All the Russian guys I’ve ever met do.”

He lowered his sunglasses, peering at her over the rim playfully. “Oh, so you know all about Russian men, eh?”

“A little,” said Lennie, suddenly feeling a bit shy. “I mean, I met a few Russian guys when I was traveling in Europe. They were all really nice, but they were also into dressing well.” She gave a small wince. “Am I stereotyping?”

“I don’t think so,” Sebastian said thoughtfully. “Dressing well? It probably comes from having so little choice available to us when the Communists were in power. Everything was so drab! I think once things opened up, everyone who could afford to, started to dress well.”

“I see. Well, I’m glad I wasn’t stereotyping.”

“Don’t fret so, padroogah. That’s ‘friend’ in Russian.”

“I figured. Padroogah,” Lennie repeated slowly, trying to mimic his accent.

Sebastian laughed delightedly. “Very good! You are a natural! Maybe there’s some Russian blood in you somewhere!”

“My last name’s Buckley, and my mother’s maiden name was Pearse. There’s no Russian in the genes, believe me.”

“Don’t be so sure.”

Lennie took a deep breath. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Why were you looking for a woman to hang around with?”

Sebastian laughed. “Because I play on a sports team! I have more than enough male friends! It’s a nice change to spend time with a woman.”

“I get that.” Lennie paused. “Can I ask a favor of you?”

“Questions, favors—you’re very demanding,” Sebastian teased.

“You sure you don’t mean pushy?”

“Maybe pushy. But that’s all right. I like women—I mean women friends—who aren’t shy. So what is the favor?”

“Can you take your sunglasses off? I hate not seeing your eyes.”

Sebastian seemed surprised. “Oh. All right.” He pushed the glasses back so they were atop his head. “Better?”

Lennie gave a controlled smile. “Much.” Control was important right now. She didn’t want to reveal how attracted she was to him.

The tour ended, and they disembarked with the rest of the passengers.

“I had fun today,” Lennie said happily.

“Me too.”

She became aware they were standing in the middle of the sidewalk, forcing exasperated New Yorkers to go around them. “We should move.” They moved off to the side, standing in front of the City Sights office. “Want to get together again sometime? Maybe next week?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Great.” Lennie’s heart was beating a gleeful tattoo. “How about I pick what we do? I already have something in mind.”

“What’s that?”

“A surprise.”

“You’re a woman of mystery, too, eh?”

“I can be.” We’re flirting. He can deny it all he wants, but we’re flirting.

“I am on the road the beginning of the week. Why don’t I call you when I get back?”

“Sounds good.”

Sebastian nodded, squeezing her shoulder affectionately. “Good luck with school this week.”

“Thank you. Good luck on the road.”

He put his sunglasses back over his eyes. “See you.”

“Yup.”

They started off in opposite directions. Lennie had taken only a few steps when she impulsively called his name and ran back to him. She hesitated a moment, then gave him a quick kiss on the mouth before turning around and melting back into the crowd. She could feel him watching her as she made her way up the street. It had been a bold thing to do, but she had no doubt that if it was the wrong thing to do, he’d let her know next week. In the meantime, she’d never in her life been so glad she’d told a lie.

Four

“Yo, Vladimir Putin, good game tonight.”

Sebastian nodded appreciatively at Eric Mitchell’s compliment. The Blades had just won at home against Washington, 3- 2. Sebastian was “in the zone,” as his American teammates called it, the whole night.

The players were sitting at their usual table at the Hart, and Sebastian found his gaze drawn to the table where he and Lennie had first spoken. Another couple was sitting there now, clearly in love, holding hands. Sebastian felt a small, unwanted pang of envy. Ever since Lennie had kissed him, he’d been confused.

It had stunned him when she’d softly pressed her lips to his. That was no platonic kiss, and he was glad. He’d known from the night they met that he was attracted to her, and the bus trip confirmed it. Her intelligence, her sense of humor, her boldness—these were all things he liked in women. But did he really want to go down this road? Sebastian threw a shot of whiskey down his throat. He couldn’t believe how much time he’d spent thinking about Lennie during his downtime while on the Blades’ recent road trip. Her soft brown hair, her dancing brown eyes, her body. She was petite, but not bone thin. She had a nice-sized bust and curvy hips. He liked his women with a little meat on their bones. His women. This was not the way he should be thinking.

His teammates had, of course, asked him about his “date” with Lennie. He’d made a point of correcting them, saying it was an “outing” with his new friend. He’d wanted to punch Ulf when the Swedish bastard had sniggered. When they asked if he was going to see her again, he was vague. If he told them she said she was going to surprise him, sexual innuendos would fly fast and furious.

Talk settled into shop. Sebastian and his teammates were in the middle of discussing Lou Capesi, the head of Blades’ PR, who was trying to convince them to do a stud muffin Blades calendar, when one of the men from the table next to theirs came over.

“Hey, guys.”

“Hey, Quinn,” said Eric.

“Just wanted to tell you guys you played great tonight.” He looked at Sebastian. “You especially.”

“Thank you.”

Quinn gestured at the table where his friends sat. “If you guys ever want to hang with us, just pull up some chairs. The more, the merrier. And I promise, it’ll all be off the record.”

“Cool,” said Eric.

Quinn nodded, and sauntered back to his table.

“Who’s that?” Sebastian asked.

“Quinn O’Brien,” said David. “His parents own this place, and he’s a hotshot reporter at one of the local papers. The other guys work at local newspapers too.”

“You ever see his sisters?” said Ulf. “Hotties.”

“Yeah, especially that redhead who’s married to the Irish guy,” said David. “The thin, well-dressed one is some high-powered lawyer. I think she’s divorced, but I doubt any woman with a brain would want to date a pig like you.”

Everyone laughed while Ulf scowled. “You know, I’m gettin’ a little tired of you assholes ragging on me all the time—especially you,” he said, pointing to Eric. “Once upon a time you were Leader of the Pussy Patrol.”

“The key word is ‘was,’” Eric said smugly. “Some of us grow up eventually.”

“You’ll die of old age before you grow up, dickface,” Ulf answered, eliciting laughs from everyone at the table, including Eric.

They made an early night of it since they had practice the next day. Sebastian was on his way out the door when a crazy lady with a parrot on her shoulder pointed at him.

“You,” she barked. “I want to talk to you.”

Confused, Sebastian looked to his teammates for help, but as soon as they realized they weren’t the ones singled out, they high-tailed it out the door. Not knowing whether he should be more afraid of the woman or the parrot, Sebastian steeled himself and walked over to the bar. “Can I help you?”

“You’re damn right you can,” she said, draining her cocktail glass and putting it down on the bar with a resounding slam.

“Damn! Damn! Damn!” the parrot screeched. No one seemed the least bit bothered.

“Shut up for a moment, Rudy,” the woman commanded. She looked Sebastian up and down, her lips pressed together in disapproval. “Keep away from my niece. She’s got enough on her plate without finding herself tangled up with some Russky heartbreaker. I know your Commie ways.”

Sebastian was completely baffled. “Excuse me, but I don’t know what you are talking about, ma’am.”

“Lennie is my niece.”

“Ah.” Lennie had made no mention that the parrot woman in the bar was the aunt she was living with. Now he knew why: the woman was shapinaya sobaka—crazy.

“I know all about you chatting and charming her, and your bus ride around the city on Sunday. I’m warning you right here and now: you try anything funny, and you’ll have to answer to me—and Rudy.”

“Lennie and I are just friends.”

The aunt snorted. “Till you get her drunk on Stoli and have your way with her.”

Sebastian was getting angry. “Excuse me, Missus—”

“Colgan. Mary Colgan.”

“Mrs. Colgan, as I said, Lennie and I are just friends. And even if we weren’t, this really is nothing of your business,” Sebastian said politely. “Good night.”

He could hear Lennie’s aunt spluttering behind him as he walked out the door. His teammates were huddled together outside the pub, eagerly waiting to know what that was all about. Sebastian told them the crazy harpy was Lennie’s aunt and that she had something against Russians. They all burst out laughing so hard they couldn’t even make jokes. Sebastian knew he’d never live this down. But that wasn’t even the worst part. The worst part was realizing he might have just made things difficult for Lennie.

“Please tell me you’re joking. Please.”

Lennie was sitting on Christie’s couch, queasiness creeping up her throat as Christie told her about her aunt calling Sebastian over to the bar and threatening him. Of course, her aunt had been on her butt about Sebastian from the moment she got home on Sunday after the bus tour. Lennie shut her down by telling her that if she didn’t drop it, she was going to move out. She knew it was a harsh thing to say; but if the past two weeks were a preview of what living with Aunt Mary was going to look like, there was no way she’d be able to endure it. Since then, her aunt had been watchful but silent on the subject of Sebastian.

“Not joking,” Christie said grimly. “Your boyfriend concluded by telling her that even if you were going out, it was”—Christie broke into a bad Russian accent—“ ‘nothing of her business.’ ”

Lennie groaned and put her face in her hands.

“I notice you didn’t jump right in to say, ‘He’s not my boyfriend, ’ ” Christie observed dryly.

Lennie lifted her head. “He’s not. Yet. But I want him to be.” She told Christie about kissing him; how she knew it was bold, but it felt like the right thing to do.

Christie looked uneasy. “But what are you going to do if he really, truly, just wants to be friends?”

“Die of a broken heart.” Lennie twirled a strand of hair around her finger nervously. “Seriously, don’t you think if he really just wanted to be friends, he would have set me straight right there and then when I kissed him?”

“It doesn’t sound like you gave him a chance to!”

Lennie’s shoulders sank. “True. Okay, but don’t you think that if it bothered him, he would have called me during the week to tell me?”

“I don’t know. Who the hell knows how guys’ minds work?”

“I guess I’ll find out Saturday—if he still wants to see me.”

“What are you guys doing?”

Lennie perked up a bit. “I’m surprising him. There’s supposed to be this really great weekend flea market on the corner of West Twenty-fifth and Sixth Avenue. I thought it would be fun; we could just walk around, talk, and look at stuff. Plus, I’m sure I could probably pick up some cool threads I can wear, or tear apart and make into something new.”

“Maybe . . . if you have time . . . you could make something for me sometime?” Christie asked shyly.

“I would love to!” Lennie said excitedly. “You do dress kinda drab.”

Christie’s face fell. “Thanks a lot.”

“I can fix that,” Lennie said confidently. “Don’t worry.”

“Are you going to talk to your aunt about what she said to Sebastian?”

“I think I’ll let it go for now. If he brings it up, then I guess we’ll deal with it. I am going to lie though my teeth to my aunt about seeing him again, though. I’ll tell her I’m studying up at the library at FIT.”

Christie checked her watch. “Shoot, I’m gonna be late for my shift. I expect a full report, obviously.”

“Obviously.” Lennie smiled bashfully. “I hope this doesn’t sound dumb, but it’s nice to have a girlfriend to talk to.”

“Me too. I spend most of my days with a pack of immature assholes. But at least some of them can cook.” She stood up. “Catch you at the Hart, maybe Monday night?”

“Maybe even Sunday. Ciao.”

This can’t be the place, Sebastian thought as he stood at the corner of West Twenty-fifth Street and Sixth Avenue, waiting for Lennie. Since they’d agreed to meet at noon, he thought perhaps her “surprise” might be a well-known diner of some sort she’d heard about, and they were meeting for lunch. But no: it was a huge, open-air market.

She was two minutes late. Not a crime. He stood and watched the dense, eclectic crowd move from booth to booth filled with junk. He didn’t understand it. Why would anyone want to buy someone else’s castoffs? He glanced at some of the items in the nearest stall. An ashtray in the shape of South America. An old picture of a man in what he thought might be a World War II uniform. A hideously lifelike stuffed monkey. Completely mystified, he quickly ducked across the street to a small deli to grab a cup of coffee. Deli coffee was the best, he’d discovered. Going to Star-bucks seemed crazy to him. What kind of a fool paid three dollars for a plain cup of coffee, even if they could afford it?

He was walking back across the street when Lennie caught him by surprise, tapping him on the shoulder. He turned. Another surprise.

She was clad in black from head to toe. Black shoes, black jeans, black turtleneck, black leather jacket, black beret. She reminded him of a ninja, or a cat burglar—a very attractive cat burglar. Her lipstick was deep berry red. She looked so different from last Sunday, when she’d looked different from the first time they met. He assumed what she was wearing was fashionable. “Funky,” she called it. But he wasn’t sure he liked it. Still, the lipstick . . . it made her lips look full, delectable.

“Hey.” She was cheery as they continued across the street. “Oh, wow, is that coffee? Can I have a sip?”

“Of course.”

He handed his coffee to her. She took a sip.

“I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

“Only a few minutes.”

They made it to the corner, and stopped. Lennie gestured behind her at the flea market, a big grin on her face. “Surprise.”

“Yes, surprise,” Sebastian murmured, trying not to sound as unenthusiastic as he was feeling.

“I heard this place was great. I’m hoping I can find some good stuff. Maybe you can too.”

Good stuff? He doubted it.

Lennie grabbed his hand, pulling him toward the first row of vendors. She liked being the aggressor, he realized. He wasn’t used to it at all. Wasn’t it the job of the man to pursue? And yet, there was something about her audacity that turned him on just a little.

Lennie headed straight for a stall selling secondhand clothing. “Shall we look?” she asked Sebastian.

“You look.” He glanced at his watch. “There’s something I need to do. I’ll meet you back here in thirty minutes?”

Lennie looked disappointed. “Oh. Okay.”

“I don’t want you to feel rushed with me standing here,” Sebastian explained. A white lie.

Lennie shrugged. “Okay.” She shyly kissed his cheek. Sebastian chuckled, pulling his sunglasses down so she could see the wink he gave her. Lennie turned happily to the nearest rack of clothing as he made his escape.

He took a walk, reveling in the city’s sights, sounds, and smells. Bought a hot pretzel for himself, which he enjoyed immensely. When he got back, Lennie was waiting for him, holding two big shopping bags.

“You will not believe the great stuff I got!” she said breathlessly. “Wanna see?”

“Of course.”

Each item she pulled from the bags was worse than the previous one. A faux leopard coat with a long tear in the right sleeve. A sleeveless top covered in yellow sequins, half of which were missing. Stretched out, faded T-shirts. A handbag that looked like something his grandmother used to carry when she did her daily shopping. He couldn’t hold his tongue.

“I don’t understand.”

“Understand what?” Lennie asked, folding items and carefully putting them back in the bags.

“Why would you spend good money on someone else’s old clothing? If you don’t have money to buy clothes, I will gladly lend you some, no problem. But this trash . . .”

“Excuse me?”

Sebastian rubbed his hands over his face in frustration. “How can I explain? You never lived under Communism, where no one had anything, and what we did have, we had to fix and recycle and repair. Nothing new. It was terrible.

“And then things changed, and finally people could buy things. New things, new clothing, not clothing that was old and out of fashion. What a luxury!” He gestured at her bags. “That is why this perplexes me. Why are you shopping for clothing as if you were poor? Why are you buying garbage? That coat is ripped. Who wants someone else’s ripped coat when you can buy a new coat? Do you see?”

Lennie took his hand. “Just because something is old or used doesn’t mean it’s trash, Sebastian. I like old clothes. They inspire me. They’re fun to mix and match. Ever hear the saying ‘One man’s trash is another man’s treasure’? This might seem like junk to you because of where you come from, but to me, it’s kind of fuel for the creative fire. Plus, to be blunt, I don’t want to look exactly like everyone else.”

“Believe me, you don’t.”

Lennie’s face fell, and Sebastian immediately felt awful. “No, no, don’t look sad. I meant it as a compliment,” he assured her, brushing her cheek with the back of his hand. “You are a unique-looking woman, Lennie. And not because you insist on wearing these—things.” Without realizing it, he had moved so close to her that her face was almost blurred. He took a step back in an effort to ward off the rush of romantic feelings engulfing him. “I’m sorry if I insulted you.”

“It’s okay. It was kind of interesting hearing your opinion, actually. Cultural differences, I guess.”

“Would you like to continue looking around?” Sebastian offered.

Lennie laughed. “You’d hate that! No, it’s okay.”

“You are sure?”

“Yes, I swear.”

He didn’t want their outing to end so fast. He supposed they could figure out another tourist attraction they could explore together, but what he really wanted was to just sit and talk with her—privately, quietly.

“Would you like to go back to my apartment for coffee?”

Lennie looked pleased. “Yeah, I would really love that.”

“Good.”

“You live on the Upper West Side, right?” Sebastian nodded. “What’s the address?”

Perplexed, Sebastian told her, watching as she pulled out a subway map from her rather sizable shoulder bag.

“What are you doing? We’ll take a cab.”

“But I can’t aff—”

“I can.” He took her hand. “No worries. C’mon.”

Five

“I’m sorry. I don’t have much furniture yet.”

Lennie couldn’t believe macho, opinionated Sebastian sounded sheepish as he ushered her into his apartment. Always the gentleman, he was carrying her bags from the flea market. She couldn’t help but wonder what was going through his mind. He was probably grumbling inwardly about toting trash around.

“Let me take your coat.”

Lennie shucked her black leather jacket and handed it to him, giving her a chance to take in his place as he hung their coats in the closet. He wasn’t kidding about the sparsity: the only furniture in the room was a large, white sectional couch, a brass and glass coffee table, and the biggest high-def TV she’d ever seen. Such a guy space.

“Sit, sit,” Sebastian urged. “I’ll go make us coffee.”

“It won’t be much fun for me sitting here alone! I’ll come with you; we can talk while you’re making it.”

“Sounds good.”

She followed Sebastian into the kitchen. There was a small table there, atop which some Russian-language newspapers were scattered. An image flashed in her mind of him lingering over the paper at breakfast.

Coffee at her aunt’s house was strictly a drip affair: boil water in a teakettle on the stove, pour it into a filter filled with grounds, watch it drip into a glass carafe. But sitting on Sebastian’s marble counter was a sleek, modern coffee machine. Sebastian caught her looking at it and patted the top of it proudly.

“Krups. One of the best brands. It’s programmable; it makes both coffee and espresso.”

“Wow.”

“Which would you like?”

“Plain coffee is fine, thanks.”

Sebastian nodded, and set about making their coffee. Lennie was struck by how proud he was of this simple (or not so simple) kitchen appliance. To him it symbolized success. Choice.

“Your apartment is really nice.”

“Thank you,” Sebastian said, looking pleased. “I especially like it because the street is quiet.”

“I wish where I lived was quiet,” Lennie replied enviously. “My aunt’s apartment is on the second floor right in the front of the building. I hear every car alarm, backfiring truck, and loud drunk who passes by.”

Sebastian looked uncomfortable. “Your aunt . . .”

“I know what happened. And I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not a big deal. I was more worried it would make trouble for you.” He tapped the side of his head. “She’s touched, yes?”

Lennie laughed loudly. “I guess you could say that. She’s got a good heart, though, you know?”

“That bird . . .” Sebastian shook his head. “He’s crazy too.”

“Well, he mimics her.” Lennie swallowed. “I’ll make sure my aunt doesn’t bother you again, I promise.”

“Don’t fret. I can handle your aunt.”

“I’m glad one of us can.” Lennie gestured at the papers. “You must miss home.”

“Yes and no. I miss my family, and some of my friends. But I don’t miss”—he seemed to be searching for the right word—“ how behind the times it still is in some places. Except in Moscow. You can get almost anything you want there now—designer clothes, expensive jewelry, Mercedes—it’s amazing.” He shrugged. “Anyway, I like to keep up with what’s going on.”

“Do you like it here in the States?”

Sebastian looked shocked by the question. “Yes, of course. Who wouldn’t? It’s an amazing place.”

Lennie just nodded, recalling how when she was younger and traveling around Europe, she thought Europe was so superior to America. But hearing someone talk about the States who hadn’t grown up here made her realize how much she took it for granted.

The coffee finished brewing, and they went back into the living room to sit on the couch—very close together, Lennie noticed. The sexual tension was thick, and was rapidly becoming unendurable as want of him began singing through her body. Never shy, she decided to take the bull by the horns: she put her coffee down and wrapped her arms around him. She looked into his eyes, then fused her mouth to his. She could tell he was shocked—but not too shocked to return her ardor and pull her tighter to him, kissing her senseless.

Sebastian held his breath for a moment. Then, ever so gently, he took her by the shoulders to look in her eyes.

“You’re very forward, you know that?”

Lennie dipped her head to kiss the top of his hand, her gaze still seductive. “Do you dislike it?”

“No. But it makes me a little uncomfortable. I need to get used to it.”

Lennie felt humiliation twist through her. “You think I’m a slut.”

Sebastian’s eyes popped. “Are you crazy? I think you’re wonderful and beautiful.” He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her softly on the mouth. “But I want to—what is the word?—savor.”

Savor. That meant he still wanted to see her. Lennie was relieved, but she still wanted him to verbalize some kind of commitment. “So we’re going out, then?”

Sebastian chuckled. “It would seem that way.”

“Not exactly what you were looking for when you posted on Craigslist,” Lennie noted sardonically.

“I didn’t know ‘New to New York’ would be so beautiful and interesting, did I?”

Lennie coughed uncomfortably. “Yeah, about that.” Time to come clean. “I’m not really ‘New to New York.’ I mean, I’m new to the city, like you, but I’m not the woman who responded to your ad.”

Sebastian looked highly amused. “So you just pretended to be her and sat and talked to me?”

“Yes.”

“What would you have done if she’d shown up?”

“Been mortified, I guess.”

“Well, obviously things worked out the way they were supposed to, yes?”

“I felt a connection to you right away. Does that sound nuts?”

“Yes.”

She playfully smacked his arm. “Thanks a lot!”

“I’m just teasing.” Sebastian put his forehead against hers, sighing. “Are you going to hide this from your aunt?”

“No. She’s just going to have to deal with it. I’m allowed to have a life.”

“Maybe you should have me over sometime, so she can see I’m not a vodka-swilling Communist.”

“Let’s wait on that a bit.”

“All right.”

“So . . . can we at least make out a bit?” Lennie asked shyly.

Sebastian cocked his head. “Make out?”

“You know, kiss passionately for a while.”

Sebastian grinned. “That sounds good.” He wrapped his arms around her. “Ti takaya krasivaya. You are so beautiful.”

Lennie instantly choked up. “No one has ever said that to me before.”

“Then you’ve dated fools.”

“Pretty much.” She brushed the back of her hand against his cheek. “Again, I’m sorry for coming on so strong. I just—you’re so se xy—”

“I know I am. You don’t need to explain.”

“Jerk!” Lennie said affectionately.

“That’s no way to talk to your boyfriend.” Sebastian nipped her neck. “Please burn those rags you bought.”

“Nope.”

“Then don’t wear them around me.”

“Deal. Now shut up and kiss me.”

“Do you don’t think it was a whore-y thing to do?”

Lennie was sitting at the bar at the Hart, telling Christie about her day with Sebastian. Her aunt wouldn’t be showing up for another forty minutes or so, so she didn’t have to worry about any of her buddies/spies reporting back to her.

“What, suggesting you guys hook up?”

Jimmy O’Brien looked up quizzically from the other end of the bar.

“Could you lower your voice, please?” Lennie quietly implored her friend.

“Sorry.” Christie leaned over the bar. “I don’t think it was whore-y. Why should guys be the ones to make all the moves? And he made out with you, didn’t he? Said you guys are going out now?”

“Yup. He said he wanted to ‘savor’ it.”

Christie looked envious. “That’s really romantic.”

“I never thought this would happen—you know, come to New York and bam! Find a great guy, and a really hot one at that.”

“Torture me even more, why don’t you?”

“Sorry.”

“When are you seeing him again?”

“Well, he wanted to get together tomorrow night, but I told him no way, unless he wants to come over and watch Project Runway with me and Aunt Mary.”

“Yeah, I’m sure he’d love that.”

Lennie’s eyes cut to Jimmy O’Brien, who quickly looked away. Clearly the old man had bat hearing. Then again, it was kind of quiet right now. “Eavesdropping is impolite, you know.”

Jimmy looked offended as he moved closer. “Now why would you ever think I’d care about what you two are yammering about?”

“Because you’re one of the biggest gossips in here,” said Christie. “All cops are—especially male cops.”

“How’s it goin’ at the firehouse?” Jimmy shot back. “The lot of you still sitting on your arses most of the day eating donuts?”

He cast a final glare at Christie and went to tend to two new customers who’d parked themselves at the other end of the bar.

Lennie glanced toward the dining room. Sitting at a small table for two across from Mrs. O’Brien was a striking young woman, her long, dark brown hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail, her face impeccably made up. Lennie’s eyes were drawn immediately to the vanilla/ navy single-breasted, two-button jacket the woman was wearing. It was gorgeous. “Who’s that with Mrs. O’Brien?” she asked Christie, tipping her head discreetly in the direction of the table.

“Sinead O’Brien, one of the O’Briens’ daughters. She’s an attorney. Kind of a workaholic, from what I hear. Going through a horrible, painful divorce. She’s been coming in here a lot lately. It probably makes things a lot less painful to spend time with her family, you know? She and Quinn talk a lot.”

“Is she nice?”

“I don’t really know her, but the few times I’ve talked to her, she seemed nice. Kinda quiet and intense.”

“God, look at that gorgeous jacket she’s wearing.”

“Is it gorgeous?”

Lennie turned back to her. “You don’t think it’s gorgeous?”

“Lennie, it just looks like a jacket to me.”

“You have no fashion sense. I’m going to take you shopping soon, okay?”

“Be my guest.”

Lennie slid off her stool. “I’ve got to go talk to Sinead.”

“Wait! You didn’t tell me when you’re seeing your Russian lover boy again!”

“Don’t know. But I’ll keep you posted.”

Lennie walked over to the table where Mrs. O’Brien and Sinead sat. Mrs. O’Brien’s face lit up when she saw her.

“Lennie! How are you?”

“I’m doing really well, Mrs. O’Brien.” She smiled at Sinead, extending a hand. “I’m Lennie Buckley. Mary Colgan’s niece?”

Sinead looked to her mother for clarification.

“The one with the parrot,” Mrs. O’Brien said.

“Your bingo friend,” said Sinead.

“Yes, that’s right.”

Sinead smiled at Lennie. “I’m Sinead O’Brien. Nice to meet you.”

Lennie fought the impulse to reach out and feel the fabric of Sinead’s jacket without asking. “I’m a fashion design student at FIT. I couldn’t help but notice how gorgeous your jacket is.”

“Oh.” Sinead seemed momentarily surprised, then smiled. “Thank you.”

“You wouldn’t happen to know who designed it, would you?”

“It’s a Stella McCartney.”

Lennie worshipped Stella McCartney—not that any of her clothing was available in Saranac Lake, and not that Lennie could ever afford a single article of Stella-designed clothing. But her designs were beautiful; unique, very feminine, with careful attention paid to small details.

“I know this is going to sound weird,” said Lennie, “but would you mind if I just rubbed one of the lapels between my fingers to feel the fabric?”

“No, go ahead.”

Mrs. O’Brien rose. “You girls talk clothing. I should be getting back to the kitchen.” She kissed Sinead’s cheek. “Don’t stay up to all hours of the night working, please.”

Sinead rolled her eyes. “I won’t.”

Lennie reached out, tentatively feeling the fabric. Cotton silk. “It’s really beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

Maybe it was forward, but Lennie asked, “Do you wear a lot of designer clothing?”

“I do,” said Sinead, not looking the least bit offended. “I’m an attorney, so I’m dressed up all the time.”

“Who do you like?”

“I wear a lot of Ann Taylor. Boring, I know. That’s why I bought the jacket: it’s professional-looking, but just a little offbeat. I’m trying to liven things up a bit.”

Lennie bit her lip. “Would you ever—I mean—if I designed something that I thought might look good on you, would you be willing to take a look? No pressure, I mean—”

“I would love to,” Sinead said warmly.

Lennie almost shot to the ceiling with excitement. “Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Oh, thank you so much.” Lennie had to rein herself in lest she throw her arms around Sinead’s neck and give her a big kiss. Yes, she loved designing funky clothes and putting offbeat combinations of clothing together, but she also wanted to design classic clothing, stuff women could wear to work. Professional but not prissy. Professional yet feminine.

“I probably should get going,” said Lennie, not wanting to make a pest of herself. “I have a lot of studying to do. How can I reach you if I come up with something for you?”

Sinead handed her a business card. “Here you go.”

“Thanks again,” Lennie gushed.

“Not a problem. I can’t wait to see what you come up with.” Sinead opened her laptop. “ ’Bye, now.”

“ ’Bye.”

Giddy with excitement, Lennie returned to the bar, told Christie her good news, and then went home to study. Her mother always said that when you’re doing what you were meant to do with your life, everything falls into place. Lennie had been skeptical, but not anymore. She was right where she was supposed to be.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to.”

Aunt Mary’s ominous statement to Lennie came during a commercial break as they sat together on the couch, watching Project Runway. Her aunt had been giving her the hairy eyeball all night. Lennie wasn’t dumb; she knew it had to do with Sebastian. She’d actually been waiting to see when her aunt would bring it up. Why now, Lennie thought. She’s still going to be torturing me about it when the commercials are done, dammit.

Lennie stuffed a handful of popcorn in her mouth. “What am I up to?”

“The Russky. I know you saw him on Sunday. Jimmy O’Brien told me. And I heard you on the phone with him last night.”

Lennie was indignant. “Excuse me, were you listening outside my bedroom door?”

“Just passing by on my way to the bathroom,” her aunt insisted defensively.

Jimmy O’Brien. Didn’t any of those people at the bar have anything better to do than gossip and tattle on others? It was amazing. The next time Lennie saw him, she was going to give him a tongue-lashing he would never forget.

Lennie decided she’d try the gentle approach. “Aunt Mary, you don’t even know Sebastian. He’s a great guy.”

Her aunt looked her dead in the eye. “You came here to study, Leonora. Not go floozing around with some hockey player.”

Leonora. God, she hated that name. Floozing around? It sounded like her aunt was trapped in a bad 1930s movie.

“I’m not floozing around. I’m just dating him.”

“You just got here!”

“I know—and so did he! We’re exploring things together.”

“Oh, I’ll bet you are.”

Lennie tried to keep her anger in check. “I resent what you’re insinuating.”

“I was young once. I know how it goes.”

Just because you had to get married doesn’t mean I will, Lennie thought. Her aunt probably didn’t even know she knew the story behind her wedding.

“It’s not like that.”

“Don’t like him,” her aunt insisted stubbornly.

“Don’t know him,” Lennie returned. She huffed in frustration. “Why don’t we have him over for dinner on Friday night? That way you’ll get to know him.”

“You know I don’t like to cook.”

“Then I’ll cook,” Lennie offered. Why did Aunt Mary have to make everything so difficult?

“Hmm.” Her aunt looked suspicious.

“Look, I’m sure Sebastian would like to get to know you better too.”

“And Rudy?”

“Of course.”

“Hmm,” her aunt said again.

“Listen, if we have him over for dinner, I promise I’ll make those hats for Rudy you asked me to make.”

Her aunt brightened. “Really?”

“Yes.”

Last week, her aunt has asked her if she might “whip up” some hats for Rudy: a sailor’s cap, a baseball cap, and a Greek fisherman’s cap. Lennie had put her off. Sewing doll-sized items was extremely difficult. Still, if it would make her aunt more accepting of Sebastian, then she would make hats for a parrot, in between classes. And seeing Sebastian. And trying to come up with something that might interest Sinead. She was confident she could handle it all.

“All right, he can come over,” Aunt Mary capitulated. “But no funny stuff.”

“No funny stuff,” Lennie agreed, chuckling. God, Aunt Mary was nuts. But as she had told Sebastian, she had a good heart, and that good heart was letting her live rent-free while she went to FIT. Having Seb over would be her ticket to peace and quiet at home. She’d call him tomorrow and invite him.

Six

“I’m surprised. I thought we were going to wait a bit on this.”

“I told you: this should help get her off our tails.”

Sebastian’s voice was low as Lennie ushered him into her aunt’s apartment. He’d been shocked when she’d called and invited him to dinner, but jumped at the chance.

He’d brought two bouquets of flowers: one for Lennie and one for Lennie’s aunt, who was, thankfully, still in her room “getting ready.” Lennie was touched. “You’re so sweet. She’s going to love this.”

“Good.”

Sebastian wasn’t at all nervous about breaking bread with Lennie and her aunt. He knew he was a nice guy; but he also felt that deep down, it really wasn’t Lennie’s aunt’s business if they were going out. Lennie was a woman leading her own life, not some flighty teenage girl who needed to be protected. He had a feeling that her aunt’s ill will toward him might have more to do with xenophobia than anything else. Hopefully, he could set that straight.

Lennie glanced behind her, then quickly planted a hard kiss on his mouth. “I missed you this week.”

“Me too.” It felt like an eternity since he’d seen her. He had to admit he was smitten, which was slightly worrisome. He’d never before experienced such intense feelings so quickly.

He took in what she was wearing: ripped jeans, black high-top sneakers, a red-and-black striped long-sleeved T-shirt.

“Don’t say a word about the jeans,” Lennie warned affectionately. “Believe it or not, they’re in style.”

“You look about sixteen. It’s a little disconcerting.”

He was about to kiss her softly when Lennie’s aunt appeared in the living room, Rudy on her left shoulder.

“Hello,” she said, a trace of distrust in her voice.

Sebastian smiled, holding out his hand. “Hello. Nice to see you.” He held out the remaining bouquet in his hand. “For you.”

“For you! For you! For you!” said Rudy.

“Rudy, shut up,” Lennie moaned.

Rudy fell silent; he obviously knew, as well as understood, the command.

Aunt Mary looked pleased with the bouquet. “How nice of you.”

“Wasn’t it?” Lennie said brightly. “Why don’t you two sit while I put these in water?”

Consign me to the flames of hell, why don’t you? Sebastian thought. But it would be for only a minute or two.

“Dinner smells wonderful,” said Sebastian.

“Lennie made it. Some kind of quiche and salad.” She eyed Sebastian curiously. “You eat quiche in Russia?”

“Yes, of course.”

“I hear you people eat a lot of cabbage. And beets.”

“You’re probably thinking of borscht; it’s a cold beet soup.”

Aunt Mary shuddered. “Cold beets. Sounds awful.”

“It is!”

She seemed to like that, rewarding him with a small smile. Sebastian studied Rudy. “He’s a beautiful bird.”

“Isn’t he? My first one, Rudy the First, died very suddenly. It almost killed me. He was like a son to me. But within a couple of months I got Rudy the Second here. I can’t imagine life without an avian companion. And he’s such a good boy.”

“Everyone at the bar seems to enjoy him very much.”

“Oh, they love him. Love him. They loved Rudy the First too. His picture is behind the bar, you know. And his ashes. All my friends were just devastated when he died.”

“Yes, I can imagine.”

“Flowers are in a vase, dinner in about half an hour,” Lennie announced as she reappeared in the living room. She sat down beside Sebastian, putting her hand in his. Her aunt’s eyes shot immediately to their entwined fingers, but her expression was impassive, which Sebastian took as a good sign.

“I hear you cooked dinner,” Sebastian said to Lennie.

“Yes, I did,” Lennie said proudly, “and I think you’ll like it too. It’s pretty simple, but it’s good.”

“When I was your age, I knew how to cook a roast,” Aunt Mary sniffed.

“When you were my age, you were already married and a housewife. Times were different.”

“You should learn to cook a roast.”

“Which would you prefer: that, or that I make a hat for Rudy?”

Sebastian’s gaze slid sideways to look at Lennie. A hat for a parrot?

“Thought that might put things in perspective for you,” Lennie said when her aunt had no response. She turned to Sebastian, so bright-eyed and beautiful she wished he could take her in his arms right there. “Do you want any wine or beer?”

“No, no, I’m fine.”

“Aunt Mary?”

“No, thank you. I’ll wait until later, when I’m down at the Hart.”

“Are you liking America?” Aunt Mary asked politely.

“Of course. This is the country everyone aspires to move to, you know.”

Once again, Aunt Mary looked pleased.

“Rudy learns things fast, no?”

“Very fast.” Aunt Mary’s expression turned back to suspicion. “Why?”

“I can teach him some Russian, if you’d like.”

Aunt Mary’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Of course. Here’s one: Dasvidanya. It means ‘good-bye.’ ”

Aunt Mary moved Rudy from her shoulder to her arm so he could watch her lips move. She had to repeat the phrase only ten times before Rudy started squawking Dasvidanya! Dasvidanya! Dasvidanya!

Aunt Mary looked proud as she pulled a treat from her pocket and rewarded Rudy. “See how smart he is?”

“Very impressive.”

“Tell me another one,” Aunt Mary requested eagerly.

“One more, and then it’s dinnertime,” said Lennie.

“Spasibo,” said Sebastian. “It means ‘thank you.’ ”

Aunt Mary repeated the process with Rudy, who once again picked up the phrase very quickly.

“He’s brilliant,” Sebastian announced with perhaps a little too much enthusiasm. Lennie’s aunt didn’t seem to notice: she was beaming.

He caught Aunt Mary giving Lennie a curt nod of approval. Now Lennie was the one beaming; as they followed her aunt into the kitchen, she gave Sebastian a big thumbs-up. “Thank you,” she murmured gratefully. “I think you’ve already convinced her you’re not a bad guy.”

“I agree,” said Sebastian. “Smooth sailing on this front from now on, eh?”

Lennie grinned. “I hope so.”

Lennie knew that despite her aunt’s warming to Sebastian, there was no way she was going to leave them alone after dinner. Sebastian said he didn’t mind, since he had practice in the morning. Lennie realized she had a lot of studying to do anyway, plus she wanted to start thinking about what she could design for Sinead. And then there were the damn parrot hats.

To snatch at least a moment of privacy, she walked Sebastian downstairs to the street.

“What do you think? A success?” he asked, wrapping his arms around her.

“Total. Especially when you taught Rudy to say, ‘Give me a drink!’”

“I thought that might break down her resistance to me completely. What’s this about you making hats for him?”

Lennie groaned. “Don’t ask.” She fiddled with the collar of his shirt. “She was very impressed with how polite you were.”

“What? Did she think I was going to come into the house and stage a revolution?” Sebastian joked.

“I don’t know. She gets these ideas in her head . . . In some ways she’s really sheltered, despite living in the city for decades.”

“But like you said, she has a good heart.”

“And a sewing machine.”

Sebastian traced her lower lip with his thumb. “I’m sorry I have to leave so early. Believe me, I wish we could go back to my apartment.”

“For some ‘savoring’?” Lennie murmured.

“Exactly. Although maybe we could savor just a little bit right now.” He skimmed his mouth over hers gently before parting her lips and slipping his tongue between them. It was so simple, yet so erotic. Lennie pulled back, biting his lower lip. Sebastian gave a small moan, which made her want to do more, but they were on the street. She didn’t want them to be one of those couples who prompted passersby to shout, “Get a room!”

As if reading her mind, Sebastian loosened his hold on her.

“I’m a little uncomfortable about ‘savoring’ on the street,” he confessed.

Lennie blushed. “Me too.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow, yes? Maybe we can visit another tourist attraction next weekend? One where you can’t buy rags?”

“Very funny. But yes, that would be good.”

He kissed her again. “Goodnight, mllaya moya—‘my sweet.’ ”

“Good night.”

Floating on air, Lennie went back upstairs. She didn’t care if she had to spend the whole week working late into the night designing and sewing—it was worth it to have the weekend free to see Sebastian.

“Yoo-hoo! Sebastian!”

“Spasiba! Spasiba! Spasiba!”

Sebastian suppressed a cringe as he strolled into the Wild Hart with his teammates, only to be enthusiastically greeted by Lennie’s aunt Mary and her damn parrot. He knew there was no way he’d be able to enter the pub undetected, but he’d been hoping that when she saw him, she’d smile discreetly or give a small wave. But no such luck: she was motioning for him to come over. Shit!

“I’ll catch up with you guys in a minute,” he told his teammates, who were snickering. Veering away from his friends, he headed toward the bar.

“How are you, Mrs. Colgan?”

“Fine, and you?”

Sebastian nodded distractedly. “Good, good.” He was desperate to get away; the longer he stood there talking to Lennie’s aunt, the worse his teammates were going to torture him when he got to the table.

“Having you for dinner was delightful,” Aunt Mary continued. “Perhaps you could come again soon? Teach Rudy some more Russian?”

That would be hell. “That would be wonderful.”

“What are you and Lennie doing this weekend?”

“We haven’t decided yet.” Sebastian was slightly unnerved by how fast Lennie’s aunt had gone from thinking he was a KGB agent to being interested in their social life.

Lennie’s aunt nodded knowingly. “I’m not surprised. Lennie’s been concentrating on her designs this week, up to all hours sewing. She’s almost done with Rudy’s sailor cap!”

“That’s wonderful,” Sebastian repeated, trying to picture the colorful bird with a hat on. It was too bizarre to contemplate. He glanced quickly toward the dining room, where his teammates were now seated. “I should get going,” he said congenially, patting Aunt Mary’s shoulder.

“Dasvidanya!” Rudy squawked.

“Yes, good-bye to you, too, Rudy,” Sebastian replied with a chuckle.

His friends watched him as he approached, looking as if they were about to explode from holding in their laughter. The moment he sat down, they were on him like a pack of hyenas.

“Dude, I never knew Russians were into old ladies,” said Ulf with an ear-to-ear grin.

“They’re not,” spurted Eric. “They’re into parrots.”

Sebastian sighed as the table rocked with laughter. “I told you: she is Lennie’s aunt. I had dinner at their apartment on Sunday, because the aunt was very displeased about her niece dating a Russian hockey player. We thought it a good idea she get to meet me so she’d see I wasn’t in the country to steal state secrets.”

“Whoa, whoa, back up, bucko,” said Eric Mitchell. “You’re dating her?”

“Yes.”

Ulf sniggered. “What happened to ‘I just want a lady friend’?”

Sebastian shrugged diffidently. “There was an attraction. What can I say?”

Eric thumped the table triumphantly. “Did I call it or what? Straight men and women cannot be platonic friends.”

“You don’t have any friends, so how would you know?” quipped David Hewson.

“She a hot little vixen in bed?” Ulf continued with a dirty laugh.

Sebastian shut him down with a cold stare. He was no prude: he’d had his share of one-night stands and boasting about conquests when he was younger. But Lennie was not a conquest, and he didn’t like the way Ulf always talked about women, especially his woman, as if they were pieces of meat.

“Well, sor-ry,” Ulf muttered.

“Apology accepted.”

They placed their orders, Sebastian discreetly keeping his eye on Lennie’s aunt. It seemed unlikely she would come over to the table, but you never knew.

“So when are we going to meet Lennie?” Jason Mitchell asked.

Sebastian shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know.”

“Invite her to a game,” Thad suggested.

“Let me think about it,” Sebastian murmured. It might be nice for his teammates to meet her, and he liked the thought of her being able to put faces to names when he talked about them. Plus, she enjoyed hockey. He just worried about what she would wear. What if she showed up in one of her odd outfits? He would be mortified, but it wasn’t like he could tell her what to wear. She would be hurt and insulted, and rightfully so.

The issue was taken out of his hands when, much to his surprise, Lennie entered the pub. Reflexively, he zeroed in on her outfit: black jeans and a red turtleneck. No trash clothing.

He watched as she approached her aunt, who pointed in his direction. Lennie’s eyes scoured the dining room uncertainly. When they met his, she broke into that wide, confident grin of hers. Sebastian grinned back, motioning her over. She deposited what looked like a portfolio with her aunt, said something to the woman behind the bar, and then started toward the table.

“Check it out,” Ulf murmured, his eyes glued to Lennie. “Puck bunny at ten o’clock.”

“Actually, that’s Lennie,” Sebastian said tersely.

Ulf slumped down in his seat. “Uh . . . sorry.”

“She’s really pretty, bro,” said Thad.

Sebastian rose, kissing Lennie as she came to his side. “Everyone, I want you to meet my girlfriend, Lennie.”

His friends all introduced themselves, their smiles and greetings gracious. Sebastian couldn’t believe it, but Lennie actually seemed shy, a side of her he hadn’t seen before. It was adorable, but he suspected that if he told her so, she might not be pleased.

Sebastian pulled over a chair from another table. “Come on, milaya moya, sit down with us. Have a drink.”

She looked up at him apologetically. “I just stopped in to show Christie some of the designs I’ve been working on. Then I really need to get back and do some homework.”

“Lennie goes to FIT,” Sebastian explained.

His friends stared at him blankly.

“Fashion Institute of Technology?” Sebastian tried. He was mystified. They’d all been living in the city for years; how could they not know this? Then again, the school did have to do with fashion and design, so why would they?

“Cool,” said Eric, jerking a thumb in Jason’s direction. “Maybe you could design my brother here some decent clothes.”

Lennie smiled. “He seems pretty well dressed to me.” Her shyness started to fade as she began talking to them about hockey, explaining to them about coming from “the frozen North,” and how she’d actually played pick-up games at the Olympic rink at Lake Placid. “Well, you gotta come see your boyfriend play,” said Thad. “He’s been on fire.”

Lennie looked up at him proudly. “Just tell me when, and I’ll be there.”

“Deal,” said Sebastian.

Lennie looked mildly despondent as she tilted her head in the direction of the bar. “I really should go,” she said to Sebastian quietly, squeezing his arm. She turned back to his teammates. “It was great meeting you guys.”

“You too,” they all chimed.

He accompanied her back to the bar.

“Ah, the lovebirds,” said Lennie’s aunt.

“Please don’t,” said Lennie. She took both Sebastian’s hands in hers. “Sorry I’ve been MIA.”

“What is—”

“Missing in action. I’ve been busting my ass working on some designs for the O’Briens’ daughter Sinead that I wanted to run by Christie. If Sinead likes them, I might actually get to measure her and make them for her. My first paying customer!”

“That’s great.”

“Your teammates seem like good guys.”

Sebastian glanced back at the table. “They are.”

“Can I come to one of your games?” she asked shyly.

“I’m surprised you even ask. Of course.”

“I had an idea for something we could do Sunday, if you’re free.”

“I have practice in the morning, but after that, nothing.” Because I’m keeping the weekend open for you.

“We could walk across the Brooklyn Bridge. There are supposed to be beautiful views, especially if you go at sunset, and then turn around and walk back to Manhattan at night.”

“I would like that very much.” He pictured them slowly walking hand in hand, talking and laughing. How could something so simple produce such happiness in him? Either he was a simpleton, or he was falling hard and fast.

Lennie’s face lit up. “Good.”

“Call me with the time you think we should go, and I will come by your apartment to pick you up.”

“Can’t wait!” She rose on her tiptoes and bit the tip of his nose. “Go back to your buds.”

“Go show your friend your designs. And then get some sleep. You look weary.”

“I’ll try.”

He gave her a quick kiss and walked back to his teammates, smiling. Life was very, very good.

Seven

Lennie was still flying high as she unloaded piping-hot cartons of Chinese food on Sebastian’s coffee table. They’d taken their time crossing the Brooklyn Bridge, strolling hand in hand, pausing now and then to take in the views. The view of lower Manhattan was breathtaking, as was the sight of the Statue of Liberty. They could even see the Empire State Building! By the time they got to the other side, night had fallen. They lingered in Brooklyn for about half an hour, then started back. Manhattan, all lit up at night, was like an urban fairyland, breathtaking and magical. Back in the city Sebastian suggested they get Chinese takeout. One of his teammates had recommended a place not far from where he lived, and he wanted to check it out. He’d had what was called “American Chinese food” in Moscow, and was eager to try the real, authentic thing.

Lennie pulled two pairs of chopsticks from the bottom of one of the bags. “Have you ever used these before?”

“No.”

“Me either. Want to try?”

“No.”

She laughed at his bluntness. You could never accuse Sebastian of being indecisive or indirect, that was for sure.

She’d deliberately worn the faux leopard coat she’d bought at the flea market, just so he could see how she’d tailored it into something smart and chic. He reluctantly admitted that the coat looked much different than the last time he’d seen it. Even so, he reiterated that he would never buy used clothing in a million years.

Sebastian leaned over, peering into the steaming cartons. “Fried dumplings. Egg rolls. General Tso’s chicken. Moo shoo pork. Sesame chicken.”

“That’s a lot of food.”

“Don’t worry,” he assured her. “You’re eating with me. It will all be gone.”

The food was delicious. Sebastian, especially, seemed to take great pleasure in it. “This is nothing like the Chinese food I had in Russia,” he told her. “Chicken chow mein . . . awful.” He shook his head in wonder. “It’s amazing how many types of food you can get here. I want to try them all: Indian, French, Italian, you name it. I’ve already had the Irish food at the Wild Hart, and it’s very, very good.” He licked Sichuan sauce off his fingers. “Hey,” he said suddenly. “Would you like to try some Russian food?”

“Sure.”

“I’ll take you to Brighton Beach. It’s nicknamed Little Odessa, because there are so many Russian immigrants there. You can meet my uncle Yuri. He’s lived there for twenty years. He’s a very good cook.”

“I would love that,” Lennie said softly, moved by his invitation. He’d talked to her a lot about his uncle, the only relative he had in the States. The fact he wanted her to meet him . . . We’re not just casually dating, she thought happily. I mean something to him. This was proof positive.

Despite Sebastian’s boast that he’d finish all the food, there were leftovers, though not many. They packed up the food, and as he loaded it into the refrigerator, Lennie went to the sink to wash their dishes. She needed something to do, even if it was only for a few minutes. Now that dinner was over, all she could think about was the “savoring” she hoped was to come.

Sebastian came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. “I have a dishwasher, you know.”

“It’s not a big deal, Seb. It’s only two plates, the glasses, and the cutlery.”

He nuzzled her hair, inhaling deeply. “You smell nice.”

Lennie closed her eyes, rinsed the last plate, wiped her hands off, and turned in his arms. “Today was great,” she said with a contented sigh.

“I agree.”

He came a fraction of an inch closer, his gaze pinning hers. Lennie felt herself weakening. His mouth was so close . . . she wanted to grab his face and kiss him so hard he would be stunned to the point of vertigo. She could see by the way he was looking at her that desire was rapidly building within him, too, but she waited for him to make the first move, seconds stretching out like years.

Her patience was rewarded when he cupped the back of her neck and hungrily crushed his mouth to hers. There was no hesitation: she gave in to it fully, lust burning through her as the kiss kept deepening, her body completely submissive to her mind.

Sebastian gripped the counter as if needing to steady himself as Lennie twined her arms around his neck. His eyes were dark, commanding. He remained like that for a moment before grabbing her back in his arms, holding her to him so tightly she couldn’t tell whose heart was pounding faster, hers or his. One of his hands grabbed her hair, fisted there, then pulled back so that her throat was revealed to him. That was when delirium came, as his teeth nipped at her soft skin.

The kitchen counter was hard against her back, but she didn’t care. All that mattered was that he kept going. Lennie momentarily took command, dragging his mouth back up to hers. Sebastian groaned with pleasure. Taking her hands from his neck, she put them on his hips, pulling him closer. Heat and friction—that was all that mattered. Heat and friction and giving herself over completely to the madness of the moment. She could have him right now, if she wanted. It would be so easy.

And yet, much to her surprise, she found herself wanting to savor.

She reluctantly tore her mouth from his, looking up into those dark brown eyes that could so easily dissuade her from what she was about to do.

“This isn’t the right time,” she told him shakily. “I want—I want it to be—”

“More romantic?”

“Yes.”

She held her breath a moment, afraid he might get angry. But he didn’t. In fact, he looked amused.

“What?” she asked. “What’s so funny?”

“You were the one who was aggressive just a few weeks ago. Now you’re the one holding back!”

“I know. You must think I’m really messed up,” she mumbled. She’d wanted to say “fucked-up,” but for some reason, she was afraid he might think she was crude. He was so traditional—such a gentleman—she didn’t want him thinking less of her in any way.

“No, I don’t think you’re ‘messed up,’ as you say. Confused? Now that’s a different story. But not messed up.”

She could feel his hardness against her slowly waning. “Are you sure you’re not mad?” she asked uncertainly.

“Not mad,” he insisted.

“Disappointed,” she supplied.

“Of course. I mean, here you are, in my arms, so beautiful . . .” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “But I want you to be happy. I want you to feel it’s the right time.”

“I want to savor,” Lennie whispered.

Sebastian grinned. “Our code word.”

“Yes.”

“It’s late. I should see you home.”

“Sebastian, I can get home by myself. On the subway.”

Sebastian shook his head. “No. A gentleman always sees his lady home.”

“I see.” Lennie was charmed. “Well, then, ‘Lead on, MacDuff.’ It’s a line from Shakespeare,” she added when he looked baffled.

“Ah. You’re so knowledgeable about so many things.”

“No, I just paid attention in high school English class.” She tugged his sleeve. “C’mon, Romeo.”

“More Shakespeare! That much I know.”

Lennie laughed. “Would you prefer I come up with some Chek hov next time?”

“Hmm, let me think about it. I might prefer Dostoyevsky.”

“You can teach some to Rudy.”

“I hear you are almost done with his sailor cap,” said Sebastian, looking like he was trying not to laugh.

“God, I should get an award for that. You can’t imagine how hard it is sewing things that tiny. I’m going blind.”

“You’re a good niece.”

“I’m a pushover.”

Sebastian extended a hand. “Come. Let’s get you home so you can get a decent night’s sleep.”

Lennie’s heart swelled with tenderness. No one has ever cared about me this way. No man has ever stolen into my heart so quickly and so fully. And I wasn’t even looking for it. It amazed her.

She took the hand of the man she intended to savor, and followed him out into the night.

Lennie tried not to fidget as she sat in the massive, quiet, climate-controlled reception area of one of New York’s top law firms, Callahan, Epps, and Kaplan, where Sinead O’Brien was a junior partner. In a fit of inspiration over the past week and a half, she had sketched three different designs she thought Sinead might like. Her first instinct had been to try to catch Sinead at the Wild Hart, but then she decided that since Sinead had given her her business card, it would look much more professional for her to call. She was thrilled when Sinead told her to come in early Thursday morning to show her the designs.

Lennie smiled politely when Sinead’s sharply dressed, whip-thin assistant, Simone, appeared and asked her if she wanted any coffee or tea while she waited. Lennie declined; she was wired enough as it was. Caffeine would have her bouncing off the ceiling and talking a mile a minute, which was the last thing she wanted. It was one thing to be creative, but she didn’t want to come across as crazy as well.

A few minutes later, Sinead appeared in a gorgeous, navy blue business suit, looking pleased.

“I’m so glad you could come,” she said, extending a perfectly manicured hand to Lennie. Everything about her was flawless and professional: her clothing, her hair, her makeup, her demeanor. Lennie supposed it had to be. “I’m really excited about seeing what you’ve come up with. That was fast!”

“I was inspired,” said Lenny, hoping she didn’t sound like an idiot.

“C’mon, I’ll take you down to my office.”

Lennie dutifully followed Sinead down the quiet, carpeted hallway. Lennie liked quiet; she loved sketching in silence, the only sound that of her pencil scratching against her drawing paper.

To say Sinead’s office was impressive was an understatement. There was a huge teak desk in the center of the room, behind which was a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf the length of the wall, filled with lawbooks. Two other walls were of floor-to-ceiling glass, allowing amazing views of New York. There was also a gorgeous burgundy velvet couch, flanked by end tables atop which sat pictures of Sinead’s family. Lennie liked the office’s cozy feel. She felt like she was in a private library at an English manor house.

“Sit, sit,” said Sinead, motioning toward the couch. Lennie sat, unable to resist running a hand back and forth over one of the velvet cushions. She loved velvet, but it was damn hard to work with. She’d once tried to make a velvet blazer for herself in high school, and it had come out looking like a luxury straitjacket.

“So, what have you got for me?” Sinead asked enthusiastically.

Heart pounding wildly in her chest, Lennie pulled the three sketches out of her portfolio and handed them to Sinead, who scrutinized them intently. One was a black draped cardigan made of cashmere; one was a 1940s-type pencil skirt with a back slit; the final design was a short snap jacket that would be made of rustic silk linen. Lennie tried to look interested in glancing around the office, but it was hard. Now and again, she slid Sinead a surreptitious, sideways glance, one time noticing there was an unmistakable indentation on the ring finger of her left hand, most likely from where she once wore a wedding ring.

The silence was killing Lennie. Finally, after what felt like forever, Sinead looked up. “I want all of them.”

Lennie couldn’t hide her shock. “Are you serious?”

“These designs are gorgeous, Lennie, and are just what I was looking for: items that are unique yet professional. You’re going to have an amazing career.”

Overwhelmed, Lennie didn’t know what to say.

“Lennie?”

“Oh, God, sorry. I just—I’m amazed.”

“Don’t be. What happens next?”

Lennie fought to keep her voice steady. “Well, I’ll take your measurements, and then I’ll make the clothes for you.”

Sinead pointed to Lennie’s satchel. “I bet you have a tape measure in there.”

Lennie blushed. “Of course.”

Sinead stood. “Measure away.”

Lennie was surprised by how talkative Sinead was as she measured her, gabbing about her family and her job, asking Lennie all about school and even about Aunt Mary. Sinead revealed that while she loved being an attorney, the job was so stressful that sometimes she wished she could just run away. Lennie wondered if Sinead’s commitment to work played any role in her split from her husband.

“Done,” Lennie said finally.

“Great.” Sinead went behind her desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a checkbook. Lennie gasped when Sinead handed her a check and she saw the amount.

“This is way too much money for the materials I’m going to need.”

“We’ll figure all that out later. In the meantime, I want you to know there’s no rush on this. School should come first.”

“Of course.” Lennie knew she was right, but it was hard to even think about school right now when she’d just sold three designs. She couldn’t wait to tell Sebastian and Christie. She wasn’t so sure about telling her aunt just yet; she’d wait until she was done working on the parrot hats.

Lennie packed up her designs. “I can’t thank you enough—”

“Don’t be silly. I love that I’m going to be the first person to wear an original Lennie Buckley! My friends are going to be so jealous! Who knows? It could result in your selling more designs.”

Lennie nodded dumbly. Already selling her designs while still in school. It was amazing.

“I’m sure I’ll see you at the Hart sometime,” Sinead continued cordially, showing Lennie to the door.

“I really like it there.”

Sinead smiled proudly. “My folks have worked really hard to create a friendly atmosphere.”

“Well, they’ve succeeded.”

Sinead pressed her shoulder warmly. “Have a good day, Lennie. Simone will show you out.”

Lennie nodded. She was still pinching herself as Sinead quietly closed her office door behind her. Things were happening so quickly, her head was beginning to spin. But they were all good things. She had no complaints.

Eight

Lennie had no idea what to expect when she and Sebastian got off the subway in Coney Island, the last subway stop in Brooklyn. All she knew was what Sebastian had told her: that Brighton Beach was called Little Odessa because of the high concentration of Russian immigrants. Coney Island blended into Brighton Beach, and as they walked toward Brighton Beach Avenue, the area’s main thoroughfare, the first thing that struck Lennie was the lack of cars and tall buildings. Much as she loved living in the megalopolis that was Manhattan, being able to see the horizon was a nice change, especially since she could also smell the ocean on the breeze.

All the Russian butcher shops, delis, cafés, bookstores, and grocery stores amazed her. Even the storefront sign outside the Duane Reade drugstore had Cyrillic lettering. Clearly this was an area that didn’t feel compelled to cater to tourists.

Strolling along, Sebastian said “hello” in Russian to a woman selling what looked to Lennie like small pastries. She greeted him back cheerily, asking him a question, to which he replied in the guttural language being spoken everywhere.

“What did she ask you?” Lennie asked.

“How I was, and how my uncle was. She’s lived here forty years.”

“What was she selling?”

“Piroshki, small pastries filled with potatoes, meat, cheese, or cabbage.”

“Let’s get one.”

“I’m sure my uncle made some.” Sebastian looked a little melancholy. “What do you think so far?”

“I feel like I’ve entered a completely different world.”

“You have.”

“You homesick?”

“A little bit. But it will pass.”

At the end of the street, they made a right turn and walked the two blocks to the beach. Lennie felt content as they ambled along the pristine boardwalk. It was off-season, so it wasn’t crowded. The day was chilly, yet bench after bench was occupied by old men engrossed in chess games. Groups of older women bundled up in fur coats strolled by, gabbing away in Russian. They didn’t seem to mind the brisk wind coming off the ocean.

Sebastian glanced behind him at the closest group of women walking by. “That group that just passed us? They’re complaining about their children.”

“Isn’t that what all parents do?”

“I suppose.”

She’d been careful with what she’d worn, knowing that if she put together one of her more eclectic combos, it might lead Sebastian’s uncle not to like her. She kept her outfit simple: jeans, a simple white button-down blouse, and a pair of clogs. She was wearing makeup, but not much. She could tell by the relief on Sebastian’s face when he came to get her at her aunt’s that he’d been worried she might be dressed quirkily.

“You look nice,” she told him, when what she was really thinking was God, you’re sexy. His faded jeans were tight, and he looked as though he might bust out of the black T-shirt he was wearing beneath his open leather jacket. His mirrored aviator sunglasses were the icing on the cake. He looked like a GQ model.

Sebastian squeezed her hand. “You, too. I think my uncle Yuri will like you very much.”

“You really haven’t told me much about him, apart from the facts that he hasn’t really Americanized very well, he’s your dad’s brother, and he works as a translator.”

“Well, what do you want to know?”

“How long has he been here?”

“Twenty years, I think,” he said vaguely.

“Did he come here for a job?”

There was a long, uncomfortable pause. “He came because his father, my grandfather, was Jewish, so he had no future. Russia is more tolerant now, but twenty years ago, glasnost—the new openness in Russia—had barely started. He taught physics at the Moscow Institute of Physics and Technology. The discrimination became too much, so he left.”

Lennie was horrified. “That’s terrible.”

“Yes, it is,” Sebastian agreed.

“How come your father—”

“Because he was an esteemed hockey coach. People were willing to ignore the fact that his father was Jewish. No doubt if he was just a professor, the same thing would have happened to him.”

“Has your uncle ever gone back?”

“No. But my father visits him here every year.”

“That’s good.” Lennie knew it was an inadequate response, but she didn’t know what else to say. All she knew was that once again, the differences between the countries she and Sebastian had been raised in were painfully clear.

Eventually, they arrived at a small, eight-story, sand-colored apartment house, and took the elevator to the sixth floor. When the elevator doors slid back, Lennie found herself enveloped in a mélange of mouthwatering smells. She tilted her head back, inhaling deeply.

“I don’t know what’s cooking, but it smells heavenly.”

“Ah, just wait and see,” said Sebastian with a wink.

Lennie realized that when she’d been outside, taking in all the new sights and sounds, she’d been able to keep her nervousness at bay. Now that they were standing in front of Uncle Yuri’s door, she was hit with a bad case of the butterflies. She tightened her grip around Sebastian’s hand.

“Don’t worry, milaya moya,” he reassured her. “It will be fine.”

Lennie swallowed as Sebastian rang the doorbell. There was the sound of three locks clicking back; then the door swung open to reveal a well- built, silver-haired man, dressed in rumpled black pants, a turtleneck, and a lint-covered gray cardigan that had seen better days. His face lit up as he reached out to warmly take Lennie’s hands between his.

“Welcome, welcome. I’m Yuri.”

“Lennie.”

“Yes, yes, I know. My nephew has told me about you. Come in, come in.”

Lennie followed Uncle Yuri into the apartment. “See?” Sebastian whispered as he closed the apartment door behind them. “It will be fine.”

Sebastian hugged his uncle, who immediately began talking to him a mile a minute in Russian.

“English,” Sebastian said to him softly but firmly. “You have to talk English.”

“Yes, of course.” He looked at Lennie apologetically. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“It’s okay, I understand.”

The apartment was tiny, every nook and cranny piled high with books and papers, some of them yellowing with age. Sebastian and Lennie sat down on the faded floral couch while Yuri settled into a battered leather armchair opposite them.

“When are you going to clear this junk out?” Sebastian asked him. “It’s a fire hazard. I told you: I’ll help you.”

“And I told you to mind your business,” Uncle Yuri chided affectionately. He turned his attention to Lennie. “My nephew tells me you design clothing.”

“Yes. I’m going to school for it, but I just sold three of my designs this week.”

Uncle Yuri nodded approvingly. “You’re hardworking. That’s good.”

“Why don’t you let her design something for you, so you don’t roam around all the time looking like an old man?” Sebastian asked.

Uncle Yuri said something to him in Russian again, but this time Sebastian laughed.

“He’s telling me again to mind my business, but in a more colorful way,” Sebastian explained.

“Something not fit for a beautiful lady’s ears,” Uncle Yuri added.

Lennie nodded and smiled. The heat in the apartment was stifling. Any minute now, she was going to start sweating, not something you wanted to do the first time you met your boyfriend’s only relative in the country.

“Would you like some good, strong black tea?” Yuri asked.

Oh, hell. If she drank something hot, she’d find herself sitting in a puddle of her own sweat. Yet she didn’t want to be impolite.

“That would be lovely,” she fibbed.

“My uncle makes good tea,” said Sebastian.

Yuri rose, disappearing into the kitchen.

“You’ve got to open a window,” Lennie quietly begged Sebastian. “It’s like a sauna in here.”

“I know. I can’t stand it. I think he keeps it so high because for so many years, the heat in his apartment in Moscow barely worked. Now he’s obsessed with it.”

Sebastian crept over to the thermostat and turned it down. “That should make it better.”

When Yuri reappeared, he was carrying a tray with three glasses, not cups, of tea, each glass in a holder of delicate silver filigree.

“Here,” said Yuri, handing Lennie a glass. “This is the traditional way we drink it. None of those cups and mugs for us!” He held his tea glass high. “Za fstryechoo! To our meeting!”

The three of them clinked glasses, then settled down to talk. Having no children of his own, Yuri seemed to revel in telling Lennie stories about Sebastian as a little boy, which embarrassed Sebastian, if his eye rolling and heavy sighing were any indication. He didn’t seem to mind, though, when his uncle sang his praises as a hockey player. Somehow, Lennie wasn’t surprised.

“What was that one dish called again?” Lennie asked Sebastian as they entered his apartment. “The dumplings with the meat-balls inside that your uncle made me drown in butter and sour cream?”

“Pelmeni—and it’s supposed to be drowned in butter and sour cream! It’s traditional.”

“I bet I gained five pounds.”

“I’m glad you didn’t pick at your food like a little bird,” said Sebastian, hanging up her coat. “I hate when women do that. My uncle was very happy you seemed to be enjoying yourself so much.”

“How could I not?”

The food had been amazing. Caviar served on dark, fresh, crusty bread. Pelmeni. Piroshki. Beef kebabs. And for dessert, blinis filled with strawberry jam.

“Do you really think he liked me?” Lennie asked Sebastian as they settled down on the couch.

“I think that’s the tenth time you’ve asked me that.” He playfully tugged a strand of her hair. “Yes. Believe me, if he didn’t, you would have known it. He would have been very gruff and spoken much less English.”

“It’s too bad he never got married,” Lennie said, sighing sadly. “Maybe we can set him up with my aunt.”

Sebastian laughed loudly. “I hope you’re joking!”

“Of course I am. Though it does amuse me to imagine it.”

They sat together on the couch, Sebastian’s arm around her, pulling her close.

Lennie rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m glad I lied to you and told you I was ‘New to New York,’” she murmured contentedly.

“Me too.” He turned his body toward her, his knuckles tenderly brushing her cheek, eyes full of naked emotion. “Lyubov maya, pridi ka mne,” he whispered.

Lennie’s heart began to race. “What does that mean?”

“‘Come to me, my love,’” he replied, pressing his lips softly against hers.

“What about savoring?” she asked in amusement.

“I had enough savoring at dinner,” Sebastian growled. “Now I want you.”

Lennie laughed, then felt herself go into free fall as Sebastian roughly pulled her to him, his mouth devouring hers. Their kiss was hard and desperate, almost feral. Emboldened, Lennie snaked her burning hands beneath his T-shirt, pressing them against his chest. So virile. So perfect. She couldn’t keep her hands still. She began stroking the hard flesh, scraping her nails against the skin, circling his nipples with her index fingers. She loved it when Sebastian groaned in response. It made her feel powerful.

Wanting to tantalize him, she abruptly withdrew her hands. Then, with her eyes fixed on his, she began unbuttoning her blouse at a slow, torturous pace before tossing it wantonly to the floor. Desire surged through her as she watched his gaze travel appreciatively up and down her torso, finally coming to rest on her chest. They looked at each other a moment, and then Lennie cocked an eyebrow as if to say, Well? Sebastian narrowed his eyes, and then in one swift motion he leaned forward, pushed her bra up, and began to devour her breasts hungrily.

Lennie gasped as her mind quickly clouded, all reason seeping away. She wanted him to take her right here on the couch. Wanted it rough, mindless, relentless with passion. Desperate, she reached forward, yanking his T-shirt off above his head, this time letting her hands roam the terrain of his broad, hard shoulders. Sebastian groaned, lifted his mouth from her breasts. Lennie held her breath, shivering as he unhooked her bra and tossed it away.

“So amazingly beautiful,” he murmured.

Lennie tried to telegraph her desperation, grabbing his face and bringing it down to hers so she could nip enticingly at his lower lip. An animal growl came from the back of Sebastian’s throat as he thrust his tongue into her mouth, demanding, taking. Lennie got what she wanted: Sebastian gruffly pulled his mouth from hers, and in one fell swoop, picked her up. “In bed,” he said hoarsely. “I want you in my bed.”

Lennie wrapped her arms around his neck and let her teeth graze his jawline as he carried her into his room. He was already breathing hard, his gaze dark with an intensity no man had ever looked at her with before. Heat coiled low in her belly. Soon, she thought. Soon the greed overtaking her would be sated.

They stripped quickly, tumbling onto his bed. He looked surprised, yet pleased, when Lennie pushed him onto his back, straddling him. All she wanted was him. All she needed was him. Greedily she attacked his lips and throat, hoping to drag him under the way she was going under, drowning in a sea of unbearable need.

Sebastian responded with fierceness, rearing up and grabbing her hair. Again their eyes met, locked, challenged. Lennie’s heart thundered as she saw her own ferocity reflected his gaze. There was a pause before he pulled her head back with a hard yank, and began feasting on her throat. The move was primitive, thrilling. Lennie was glad there were no soft, tender Russian phrases falling from his lips right then. She wanted him macho and dominating, wanted the roiling desire in her blood satisfied.

There was no doubt of who was in control as he pushed her back on the bed, exciting her. They were both breathing hard. Lennie’s heart was pounding as she watched him reach into the night table for protection, quickly sheathing himself. Hurry, she thought, need shuddering through her. But Sebastian was in no hurry; he teased and tortured at the same time, nipping her breasts before slowly slithering down her body to pleasure her with his fingers and mouth. Lennie couldn’t hold back, tumbling over the edge into pleasure. Sebastian laughed darkly as he lifted his head to look up the length of her body at her.

“More?”

“God, yes, please.” It was so hard to form words when all she wanted was sensation. Sebastian crawled back up her body so they were face-to-face, his large, strong hands pinning her wrists in a show of dominance. Unbearably aroused, Lennie began rubbing herself against him, a woman once again on the verge of explosion.

Sebastian kissed her roughly, then plunged into her, the slam of his body against hers rendering her momentarily senseless. Lennie felt her mind reel, blind desire unspooling within her as she bucked against him wildly, meeting him thrust for thrust. Flesh pounded flesh as the sheer animal urge to mate roared through her and she came again, the punch of her own climax a delicious blow. Sebastian looked down at her, his mouth widening into a satisfied grin, which Lennie returned. Then his mouth closed over hers and he continued moving inside her, sending Lennie spinning back into velvet darkness. She urged him on, breaking free of his grip on her wrists to embrace him, dragging her nails up and down against the smooth, muscled terrain of his back. Finally, in one lightning burst of speed, he emptied himself into her, Lennie savoring the delicious feeling of complete union with him, her milaya moya, her sweet.

Nine

Lennie awoke the next morning to the shrill beeping of Sebastian’s alarm. She knew she shouldn’t have spent the night, but Sebastian was very persuasive, and the allure of “savoring” all night was simply too much to resist. So here she was, snuggled deep and cozy under the covers, her limbs entwined with Sebastian’s, the most natural feeling in the world.

Groaning, Sebastian snaked an arm out from beneath the covers to silence the alarm. The room fell back into blissful silence for a few seconds before he yawned deeply, then rolled to face Lennie, a sleepy smile on his face.

“Hello,” he murmured.

“Hello.” Lennie brushed the hair out of his eyes, keeping her right leg hooked over his hip. “Sleep well?”

“Mmm, very well. But now it’s time to get up.”

Lennie snuggled closer to him. “Do we have to?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” said Sebastian, gently disentangling himself from her. “I cannot be late to practice.”

Lennie rolled onto her back and sighed. “I hate being a grown-up.” She lifted her head from the pillow to glance at the clock. Seven thirty.

“Oh, shit!”

Sebastian looked alarmed. “What’s the matter?”

Lennie leaped out of bed, scrambling for her clothing. “I totally forgot I have an appointment with one of my professors at nine to talk about getting credit for the clothes I’m designing for Sinead O’Brien.”

Sebastian was unruffled. “So take a quick shower and go. You’ll make it.”

“I don’t have my portfolio with me,” she lamented. “And I don’t have her number on my cell. Shit.”

“Relax. You can call the car service I sometimes use to take you home. The driver will wait downstairs while you wash up and grab your portfolio, and then take it to see your professor.”

“I can’t afford that. It will cost a fortune.”

“I’ll pay for it. I have plenty of money, and it would please me to do this for you. Please?”

“Okay.”

“Good, the number is on my fridge. Go ahead and call them while I jump in the shower.”

Lennie hustled out to the kitchen to call for a car. Panic quelled, she returned to the bedroom. Sebastian was already in the shower. Lennie went into the bathroom, peeking around the shower curtain at her gorgeous, naked boyfriend.

“All better now?” he asked, his eyes closed as he turned his face into the spray of water.

“We’ll see.” Lennie crinkled her nose. “Why are you showering when you’re going to practice? Aren’t you going to get there and work out and sweat?”

Sebastian looked at her and chuckled. “I can’t show up smelling like sex, can I?”

“I suppose not.”

He held out a hand to her. “Come on. Join me.”

Lennie hesitated as she weighed his offer. Don’t do it, the adult voice in her head said. You have to rush back to the apartment, change, pick up your portfolio. You’ll be late for your meeting.

“You know I can’t,” she said, unable to hide her disappointment. “If I get in there with you, I won’t be able to keep my hands to myself.”

Sebastian smiled seductively. “That was the idea.”

“Don’t torture me, you Russian devil.”

“I admire your discipline.” He leaned over, giving her a shower-wet kiss. “We’ll talk later, yes? I’ll call you after my game?”

Lennie nodded. His games ended late, but she knew she’d still be up. She was determined to finish the clothing Sinead had commissioned as soon as she could.

“One more thing,” he said, “then I’ll let you scurry off.”

“Yes?”

His expression was tender. “Last night was so chudesnaya—wonderful. I felt very close to you. I’m very—fond of you, Lennie.”

“Me too,” said Lennie. Too early to say the “l” word, if it ever got to that, which she hoped it did. “Talk to you later.”

“Yes. Have a good day, sweet one.”

“You too. Good luck tonight.”

So much for Lennie’s good luck wishes having any bearing on the Blades’ game against Ottawa. The team was routed 5-1 . Sebastian played poorly, seeming out of sync with his teammates. A step slow all night, he was penalized twice for holding. Ottawa scored on both power plays.

“I fucked up tonight,” Sebastian said to no one in particular, but loud enough for everyone in the locker room to hear. He threw his helmet against a wall and slumped angrily in front of his locker.

“Forget it, Ivan. Everyone’s allowed a bad night now and then,” Eric Mitchell sympathized, picking up Sebastian’s helmet and tossing it back to him.

“Know what I think your problem might have been tonight?” said Ulf, breaking into a big grin as he sauntered over to Sebastian, naked, with a towel slung over his shoulder.

“What?” Sebastian knew there was no point in saying “No,” since Ulf would just ignore him and tell him anyway.

“You’ve got pussy on the brain, Ivan, not pucks.” There were laughs all around the locker room.

Sebastian knew Ulf was just trying to bring him out of his funk. The teasing was just a way for his teammates to reassure him that they had his back.

As the conversations in the locker room shifted to talk of where to have dinner and what was on television, Jason Mitchell called Sebastian over to have a private word. “Just out of curiosity, does Lennie know you’ve only got a one-year deal?” he asked cautiously.

“No.”

“You don’t seem like a ‘love ’em and leave ’em’ kind of guy, Sebastian,” Jason observed, “so I get the feeling you really like this girl.”

“I do.”

“Well, I don’t mean to interfere, but you might want to say something sooner rather than later, so the two of you both know what you’re getting into. If you really care about her, you don’t want her freaking out if you end up somewhere else next season.”

“Thank you for the advice,” Sebastian said quietly, as he picked up his toiletry kit and walked away. Hopping into the shower, he soaped himself and thought about his future as the hot water beat down on him. He’d like to stay with the Blades, but there was no guarantee. If he didn’t play well, they might not make him an offer, and he could end up somewhere else next season—maybe even back in Russia. And if he did play well, he might get a better offer from another team. With his extended family back in Russia relying on him, he wasn’t in any position to turn down money for sentimental reasons.

His thoughts turned to Lennie. Not telling her about the contract wasn’t lying; it was simply a small sin of omission. Still, didn’t he owe her the truth? He chuckled over the irony of telling the truth to the woman who’d deceived him about being “New to New York.” Right now he considered their relationship casual, but what if it continued to grow and blossom? What then?

He stepped out of the shower, toweling himself off vigorously. He had a decision to make. And soon.

Ten

Two Weeks Later

“Are you okay?”

Lennie snuggled comfortably in the crook of Sebastian’s arm, her feet sprawled in front of her on the coffee table as they sat on his couch. She’d watched him play tonight, even though she knew she should probably have been home studying, or finishing up the final garment Sinead had commissioned. But that was what coffee and Red Bull were for; she’d go home and get her work done after they’d “savored.”

“I’m fine,” Sebastian said distractedly.

“You don’t seem fine,” Lennie said with concern. “You seem pensive.”

“‘Pensive’is—?”

“Preoccupied. Lost in thought.” She stroked the side of his face. “Everything okay at home? With your uncle?”

Sebastian nodded vaguely.

“Are you mad at me or something?” Lennie ventured meekly.

Sebastian looked shocked. “Why would I be mad at you?”

Lennie shrugged. “I don’t know . . . because I wore pink Doc Martens to your game?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, milaya moya. I’m used to your ‘funky’ way of dressing by now, and my teammates don’t pay attention to a woman’s clothes,” he said, forcing a smile to go along with his forced joke.

Lennie didn’t bite, and instead searched his face, trying to keep her mounting anxiety at bay. “So, what is it, then?”

Sebastian gave up. “There’s something I should have told you when we first got to know each other,” he said quietly.

“Shit, I knew it: you’re married,” Lennie blurted. “You’ve got a wife back home in Russia. I knew it was too good to be true for you not to be taken!”

Sebastian stared at her like she’d lost her mind. “How can you say this to me?” he asked heatedly. “What kind of a man do you think I am?”

“A man who looks guilty!” Sebastian looked insulted. “Okay, I’m sorry I said that. I know you’d never keep something like that from me.”

Sebastian sighed heavily. “No, I’m the sorry one.” He took her hand. “Lennie, I might be gone after the season ends.”

Lennie was confused. “What?”

“I have a one-year contract with the Blades. If they don’t resign me, I’m gone.”

“What does ‘gone’ mean?”

“You know what it means,” Sebastian said softly.

“I want to hear you say it,” Lennie demanded. She knew she sounded irrational, but she didn’t care.

Sebastian looked pained. “I could wind up playing for another team in the NHL, or going back to Russia, or playing for a team somewhere else in Europe.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this when we first started going out?”

“Because I didn’t want to think about it.”

“Liar! You didn’t tell me because you knew I wouldn’t get involved with you if you did,” Lennie countered angrily.

“Really? You wouldn’t have gotten involved? Even though we were so attracted to one another?”

“Of course I wouldn’t have!” Lennie snapped, even though she wasn’t sure that was the case. She stared at him, shaking her head with incredulity. “I can’t believe you deceived me.”

“Look who is speaking about deception!” Sebastian retorted. “You pretended to be someone you weren’t!”

“As if you minded!”

They sat glaring at each other for a moment. Sebastian wearily ran a hand over his face. “We have to make a decision.”

Lennie scrambled to her feet. “We? We?”

“Okay. You,” he corrected. “Now that you know, do you want to continue our relationship or—”

“Oh, it’s over,” Lennie fumed, slipping her boots on. She shook her head again as she laced them up. “I can’t believe you lied to me!” she repeated under her breath.

“I didn’t lie to you!”

Lennie jerked her head up. “You want to get technical? Fine. ‘Withheld vital information.’ Is that better? You withheld vital information.”

“I was falling in love with you,” Sebastian said quietly.

Lennie’s mouth fell open. “Now?” she yelled. “You pick now to tell me you’re in love with me?”

“Please stop bellowing like a madwoman,” Sebastian implored calmly.

“I am a madwoman! A very mad woman!”

Sebastian cradled his head in hands, looking miserable. “This is not going well.”

“How did you think it would go?” Lennie snapped. Her hands were shaking as she continued lacing up her boots. She contemplated yanking one off and throwing it at him.

“I thought maybe we could stay together, even if I left. And even if we did part, I never wanted us to part angrily.”

“Ask me if I give a damn what you want, Sebastian.” Lennie’s jaw clenched as she tried holding back tears. “I really wish you had told me. I’ve been running myself ragged trying to juggle school with making sure I had enough time for you. And for what? To find out the man who claims to be in love with me couldn’t even do me the courtesy of being honest with me from the beginning!”

Sebastian looked ashamed. “You are right. You deserve better than this.”

“You’re damn right I do.” Lennie gathered up her coat and flung her bag over her shoulder. “Don’t even try to talk to me at the Hart if we’re both there at the same time. Got it?”

Sebastian nodded, looking pained.

“And for the record, I hope you wind up back in Siberia!”

Lennie stormed past him, slamming the door on her way out. She didn’t want to think about what had just happened. All she wanted to do was get home as fast as she could, and cry.

Eleven

After storming out of Sebastian’s apartment, Lennie rode the subway home, trying to sort out her feelings. She couldn’t believe he hadn’t let her know right from the beginning that his being in New York might be temporary. But the more she thought about it, the more she started to second-guess herself. Would she really have resisted her attraction to him if he’d told her the deal straight off the bat? She’d always considered herself a risk taker. Maybe he would have told her and she would have been okay with it, taking it day by day. Maybe.

The next morning, she decided to go down to the Wild Hart and run her conversation with Seb by Christie. Hitting the pub would kill two birds with one stone: she could spill to her friend, and she could stick around to meet with Sinead, who was stopping by to pick up the clothing Lennie had designed. “So, what do you think?” she asked Christie, who was alone behind the bar before the lunchtime mob arrived. Jimmy O’Brien’s back was causing him a “world of trouble” again. Christie was pissed, but at least Mr. O’Brien was available to help out if she needed it.

“About what? Sebastian not telling you he might be gone, or your reaction to it?”

“Both.”

Christie crinkled her nose, thinking hard. “I kinda think he should have told you. And I kinda think you overreacted.”

“Could you be a little more definitive than ‘kinda’?” Lennie pushed.

“I think you have a right to be annoyed,” Christie replied carefully. “But rather than storming out, you should have stayed and talked things through with him. Breaking up with him—is that really what you want?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know,” Lennie whined. She wiggled around on her barstool in frustration, trying to put her thoughts into some kind of coherent order. “On the one hand, it might be good we—I—ended things. I mean, I did come to New York to study, and trying to juggle school, a relationship, and doing my own designs has been kind of crazy.”

“I hear a ‘but’ coming.”

“But what if I made a mistake?”

“Well, there’s only one way you’re gonna find out: go and talk to him. See if he wants to give things another try. I bet he does.”

“But I told him I hoped he wound up back in Siberia,” she said with a cringe.

Christie laughed. “Good one.”

“Well, what if he does?”

“Lennie, which is it?” Christie huffed in exasperation. “Either you want to be with this guy or you don’t. End of story.”

“I need more time to think about it,” Lennie muttered miserably.

“Then take time to think about it, and talk to him.”

“But if I go back to him and tell him I want to get back together, he might think I’m pathetic or something. Unstable.”

Christie threw down the bar towel in her hand. “Earth to Lennie, you are pathetic! At least right now!”

“Ouch.”

“You also look dead on your feet.”

“So you think I shouldn’t get back with him. It’ll be too much on my plate.”

“You’re being paranoid! And maddening!” Christie yelled.

“Sorry,” said Lennie, shrinking back.

“Get some sleep tonight. Do some thinking. Then talk to him.”

Lennie had been growing increasingly nervous as the time neared for her meeting with Sinead. But when Sinead walked into the pub and greeted her with a big, excited smile, all feelings of unease melted away. She knew things were going to be okay.

Garment bag slung over her shoulder, Lennie followed Sinead into the dining room. “I hope you don’t mind my wanting to meet here,” said Sinead, sliding into the booth.

“No problem at all. When I’m done, I can just go home and do some studying.”

“And I can see my folks.” Sinead rubbed her hands together eagerly. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Lennie’s nerves crept back as she unzipped the garment bag and took out the three items she’d sewn for Sinead’s inspection.

“Oh, Lennie.” Sinead looked bowled over as she examined each garment. “These are perfect. Beautiful.”

Lennie ducked her head shyly. “Thank you.”

“How much do I owe you?”

Lennie hesitated.

“Lennie,” Sinead chided, “figure out how many hours of labor went into these and how much you’d be selling these for in stores, and tell me. You’re never going to be a success if you don’t insist on getting paid what you deserve for work you’ve done.”

Lennie had already figured out what she was owed. She wrote the number on a napkin, pushing it across the table to Sinead.

Sinead looked dubious. “Are you sure you’re not undercutting yourself?”

Lennie put her hand over her heart. “Swear to God.”

“All right, then.” Sinead pulled a checkbook out of her purse and wrote Lennie’s check. Lennie held it in her trembling hands, staring down at it in awe. “These are the first designs I’ve ever sold,” she told Sinead, trying not to get teary.

“The first of many, I’m sure.” Sinead gazed admiringly at the clothing one more time before zipping up the garment bag. “You know what I love about them? They’re classy enough to wear to the office, yet casual enough to wear on a date.”

“You’re dating again?” Lennie immediately regretted saying it. Sinead hadn’t said anything to her about her divorce; she knew about it only through the grapevine. But Sinead looked amused.

“Don’t look so mortified. I know how fast word travels around here, believe me. I’m used to it.” She checked her cell. “To answer your question, I’m not ready to start dating again. You have a boyfriend, though, right? That Russian hockey player?”

God, everyone really does know everyone’s business, Lennie thought. “We broke up last night.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Sinead said sympathetically.

Lennie put on a brave face. “No, it’s okay, it’s for the best.”

“Well, take a piece of advice from me,” said Sinead, sounding more sad than cynical. “If you ever find yourself in a serious relationship, make sure each of you knows where the other stands when it comes to the big things: where you want to live, whether you want to have kids. Otherwise, you could find yourself in a major mess down the line.”

“I’ll try to keep that in mind.”

Sinead slid out of the booth. “I’m going to want you to design some more clothing for me, so don’t get too famous too soon.”

“I’ll try to avoid it.” Lennie had already started wondering what she would do when the school year ended. The idea of going home to Saranac Lake for the summer held no appeal; she wanted to remain in the city and earn some money, even if it meant working two or three crummy part-time jobs. However, if Sinead really meant what she said, then Lennie might be able to get by with having to work only one job.

Sinead disappeared into the kitchen with the garment bag. Lennie pulled the check out of her shoulder bag, staring at it again. It was too bad she needed the money; otherwise, she would have framed it.

“You were great out there tonight.”

Sebastian turned to Jason Mitchell, who was sitting next to him on the plane. They were on their way back from a game in Miami, where they’d played well. Sebastian had scored the game winner in a shoot-out.

“Thank you.”

“So why do you look like you’re on your way to your best friend’s funeral?”

“I finally told Lennie about my contract,” Sebastian revealed forlornly. “She did not take it well.”

Jason patted his shoulder. “Sorry, dude.”

“Maybe it’s for the better. I don’t know.”

Jason nodded and opened the New York Post, perhaps sensing that Sebastian didn’t want to go into detail about what had transpired. Sebastian kept running the scene in his head, contrasting how he had thought their conversation might go with what had actually happened.

He’d imagined Lennie being upset at first, but had assumed they would talk it through, deciding at the very least that they could still be friends if she chose not to continue a romantic relationship with him. Actually, what he’d really been hoping was for her to say, “I don’t care if your contract is only for a year; you’re the only one I want to be with. I love you, and whatever happens, happens. There’s no reason we can’t have a long-distance relationship if you have to move away.”

The vehemence of her reaction had shocked him, as had her reaction to his telling her he loved her. He could see now how badly he’d miscalculated, how stupid he’d been in his assumptions. He’d been right about one thing: she did deserve better. He tried to focus on the only two positives that had come from what had transpired: one, she could now concentrate on her schoolwork; and two, he could dedicate himself fully to his game, ensuring that whatever happened next year, he’d be richer—i f not emotionally, then at least financially.

Twelve

“How long are you going to avoid him?”

Lennie knew Christie had been itching to ask her for hours. She was hanging out at Christie’s apartment, giving her advice on what to wear on her first date with a hottie she’d met at the bar. Three months had passed, and ever since she’d split from Sebastian, she’d been careful to stop by the Wild Hart only during the day, when she knew he and his teammates wouldn’t be there. Of course, that didn’t mean she didn’t know what was going on with him: she read the sports pages religiously. In fact, whenever she came into the pub, Christie made a point of handing her a paper already open to the day’s story on the Blades.

Not only that, but Aunt Mary always told her when the Blades were at the pub, adding, with a significant wiggle of the eyebrows, that Sebastian asked after her. The irony wasn’t lost on Lennie; wasn’t this the same Aunt Mary who had told her she should focus on school her very first day in the city and who had called Sebastian a “Commie”?

The truth was, she missed Sebastian. Badly. Not just their “savoring,” but talking to him, laughing with him, experiencing the city together. She often sat daydreaming about him while at the sewing machine, picturing them doing this and that. Then some other thought would come darting into view and she’d snap out of it, overcome with an emptiness for which she herself was to blame. Lennie knew that if she asked him to, he would meet and talk with her, but she was held back by a huge fear of rejection. Maybe he’d decided he didn’t love her after all. What if his excelling on the ice these past few weeks had to do with her not distracting him in some way?

She looked at the various articles of clothing laid out on Christie’s bed. “Hmm.” She pointed to a pair of jeans made by People’s Liberation. Lennie liked their stuff; it was expensive, but sexy. “Those are good.”

“You didn’t respond to what I said. Admit it: you’ve been avoiding him.”

“Obviously.”

“He asks about you. I’ve told you that tons of times. He misses you.”

Lennie felt a lump form in her throat. “I miss him too. But it’s better this way.”

Christie rolled her eyes. “Martyrdom doesn’t suit you. Seriously. Talk to him.”

“And say what?”

“That you miss him. That maybe you two could—”

“He might be gone in May.”

“And you might get hit by a dump truck tomorrow,” Christie shot back sharply. “At the very least, don’t you miss his friendship?”

Lennie hesitated. “Yes. But I don’t think I could be around him and just be friends.”

“Because—?” Christie pushed.

“You know,” Lennie mumbled.

“God, you’re pitiful.”

“Because I love him, okay?” Lennie burst out, her eyes filling with tears.

“Then do something about it. Life is risky, okay? Maybe tomorrow I’ll get called out to a fire and lose my life. But I’m willing to take that risk, because it’s worth it to me. You have to live in the here and now, Lennie. If you want him back, tell him.”

“What if he doesn’t want me back?”

“Then at least you’ll know. Now which shirt should I wear with the jeans?”

Two nights later, Lennie screwed up her courage and walked into the Wild Hart. She’d deliberately chosen the night Aunt Mary would be at bingo with Mrs. O’Brien, knowing her aunt might make a big deal if she saw her and Sebastian together—assuming Seb would even talk to her, of course. Her gaze shot to Christie, who gave her a small smile and a discreet thumbs-up. Then, as casually as she could, she glanced toward the dining room. Sebastian was there with his teammates, his back toward her, thank God.

Lennie went to the bar. “I think I need a drink to fortify myself.”

“What can I get you, girlfriend?”

“Sam Adams.” The same thing she’d had the night she’d met Sebastian.

Mr. O’Brien was working behind the bar with Christie. Obviously his brother, Jimmy, had back problems again.

“Lennie,” said Mr. O’Brien warmly, “we haven’t seen you here in a while.”

“I’ve been really busy with school.”

“That clothing you made for my daughter Sinead? Very impressive.”

Lennie was slightly taken aback. “She showed them to you?”

“Yes, the very day she got them. Lovely, just lovely. Tried them on for her mother and me. They suit her right down to the ground.”

“Thank you.”

“Perhaps I’ll have you make a suit for me. My missus is always complaining because I’ve been wearing the same one since 1979.”

Lennie laughed. “I would love to.”

“Let’s talk about it come summer, then.”

“Deal.” The thought of again being commissioned to design clothing and get paid for it? Heaven.

Christie handed her a Sam Adams. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.”

Lennie took a sip of beer, again glancing discreetly at the Blades’ table.

“Get your butt over there,” Christie commanded.

“In a minute.” Lennie took a deep breath as nerves played up and down her spine. Here and now, she told herself. That’s all that matters. She took another sip of beer, and began walking toward the Blades’ table. She watched as one of Sebastian’s teammates lightly elbowed him and Jason Mitchell leaned over to say something in his ear. Sebastian turned in his seat, watching her approach, his expression guarded. She wasn’t surprised.

“Hey.” Despite having sipped at her beer, her throat felt dry and clogged.

“Hey,” Sebastian returned, standing up. “Sam Adams,” he noted, picking his own bottle off the table.

“Great minds think alike,” said Lennie. God, that was lame.

“Yes.”

Lennie stuck her free hand into the back pocket of her jeans. “Um . . . I was wondering if we could talk?”

“Sure.” Sebastian looked around the crowded dining room. “We could talk in the bar.”

“All right.”

Always the gentleman, he gestured for her to go ahead of him. She could feel his eyes on her back. Now it wasn’t nerves that were playing up and down her spine; it was the beginning of desire.

The only table available was the one they’d sat at the night they’d met. “You know what? I don’t think this is a good place to sit and talk.”

Lennie’s heart sank a little.

“Too noisy. Not private enough.”

Relief swept through her.

“If you are comfortable with it, we could go talk at my apartment.”

Lennie cleared her throat. “That would be fine.”

Sebastian nodded. “Just let me tell my friends I am leaving. Then we can catch a cab.”

“Gotcha.”

Lennie’s eyes shot to Christie, who lifted an eyebrow. “Well?” she mouthed.

Lennie smiled and crossed her fingers.

Thirteen

Lennie was relieved when she and Sebastian finally arrived at his apartment. They had been slightly awkward with each other during their cab ride, both striving to keep their conversation light and casual, both knowing that the talk they’d be having when they got to Sebastian’s would be anything but.

“Coffee?” Sebastian offered.

“Brewed in your deluxe Krups coffeemaker?” Lennie teased.

Sebastian smiled faintly. “Yes, of course.”

“Yes, please. A cup of coffee would be nice.”

Lennie followed him into the kitchen. She was less interested in coffee than in having some kind of prop in her hand when she told him how she felt. The temptation to immediately spill her guts was overwhelming, but she controlled herself. She wanted to sound calm and thoughtful, not emotional and crazy.

“How’s your uncle?”

“Well.” Sebastian paused. “He asks about you.”

Lennie sat at the small kitchen table, chin resting in her palm as she watched him. “What did you tell him?”

“That you’re studying very hard in school.”

“Does he know we—?”

Sebastian was all concentration as he measured out the coffee. “Yes.”

What does he think? Lennie longed to ask. Does he think you were a jerk not to tell me the truth at the beginning? Did you depict me as a lunatic when you told him about our breakup?

“Give him my regards.”

“I will.”

Uneasy silence. Lennie rushed to fill the vacuum. “I’ve been following the Blades. You guys are doing great.”

“We are,” Sebastian agreed carefully as he glanced at her, “but we don’t want to get too cocky. It’s bad to make assumptions.” There was a pregnant pause before his gaze returned to the task at hand. “That’s something I’ve learned the hard way.”

Lennie felt a surge of hope, but remained determined to not start talking until they were comfortable in the living room. “Do you mind if I go sit on the couch? I’m kind of tired.”

“Of course, sit on the couch. I’ll bring our coffee in a moment.”

Lennie nodded, and headed to the living room. It’s bad to make assumptions. That’s something I’ve learned the hard way. Was he talking about hockey or her? Or both?

She glanced around the familiar room, looking to see if anything had changed since she’d last been there. Nothing had; it was still stark, the apartment of a man for whom decoration was a low priority. Or maybe a man who didn’t want to assume he’d be staying beyond a year.

“Here we are.” Sebastian joined her on the couch, two steaming mugs of coffee in hand, a prop for each of them.

Lennie marshaled her courage and took a huge gulp of coffee, which was a mistake; it burned her mouth and throat. She bit down on her lip to keep herself from yelping, but it was no good; Sebastian caught the split second of pain that flashed across her face.

“Are you all right?” he asked, concerned.

“I gulped down a little too much coffee, is all.”

“There’s no need to be nervous. It’s just me.”

“That’s why I’m nervous!”

He reached out to put a reassuring hand on her knee. “Take your time.”

Pure Sebastian: always so considerate, always so patient.

Lennie wrapped her hands tightly around her coffee mug. “I’ve been thinking a lot about how I acted the day we broke up.”

“Yes?”

Lennie blushed. “I’m pretty sure I acted like a melodramatic jackass.”

“Like a crazy woman.”

“Okay, you don’t have to rub it in.” She cocked her head and closed her eyes, rubbing her forehead. “I wasn’t really thinking. Just—reacting.”

“I think maybe you had a right to react, though perhaps not quite so vehemently.”

There was amusement in his voice, which she found encouraging. She opened her eyes. “I regret the way we parted.” Wimp.

“So do I.”

Lennie stared down into her mug. “I regret breaking up with you,” she said sheepishly.

“That made me sad too.”

Lennie’s head shot up. “Really?”

Sebastian laughed. “Why would I say it if it wasn’t true?”

Lennie put her cup down on the table, and reached out to take Sebastian’s hands in hers. “Can we give it another try? I know you might be leaving at the end of the season,” she said breathlessly before he could interrupt. “But I don’t care. When you love someone, you don’t let it slip from your fingers. You take it day by day. Maybe our time together is limited, but I’ll take it, because a finite amount of time with you is better than no time at all.”

“I agree, milaya moya,” Sebastian said softly.

“Oh, God.” Lennie put her hand on her chest and breathed a sigh of relief. “I was so afraid you’d tell me that you’d changed your mind.”

“You think I am someone who can fall out of love so easily?”

Lennie felt happy tears prick at the corners of eyes. “So you really—?”

“Yes. Yes. Ya tebya lyublyu—I love you.”

“I love you too,” said Lennie.

He rose, extending a hand to her, and together they went into his bedroom. She ached for him, but didn’t want to rush. Taking their time, drinking each other in, they undressed each other, making love with their eyes before their bodies came together to caress and explore. There was no need for words as their mouths fused and fingers glided over naked flesh. Secrets and whispers. Sighing and longing as desire slowly built, a flicker at first that turned to a flame burning higher and higher.

By the time they lay down on the bed, Lennie’s need had taken over. Feel how much I want you, she thought. She took his face in her hands, kissing him with an undeniable passion that could only inflame. Sebastian groaned into her mouth as he gently pushed her onto her back and climbed atop her. They locked hands, falling into each other’s gazes. He slipped inside her. This is the world I want to live in, one where there is Sebastian and only Sebastian.

His loving gaze brought her to the edge of joyous tears as he slowly began to move inside her, Lennie savoring the feel of him against her, their bodies completely united. No thoughts of the past, no fears about the future. Just the two of them, together, now. Lennie felt as though she could touch the sky from his bed as the heat within her built. Finally it happened: the devastating, headlong rush into ultimate pleasure that she never wanted to end. But end it did, and she watched lovingly as he followed her into oblivion. When they both returned to their senses, he held her tight and secure in his arms.

Home, she thought. Home.

Fourteen

“To Ivan the Terrible!”

Sebastian laughed heartily as his teammates hoisted their glasses in his honor at their usual table at the Wild Hart. Though they’d been knocked out of the second round of the play-offs two weeks earlier, they still had reason to celebrate: Sebastian had been offered a contract, and he had signed a three-year deal with the Blades.

“Glad to have you on board, you Commie bastard,” said Ulf.

“Glad to be on board,” said Sebastian, touching his whiskey glass to Ulf’s. He hadn’t yet told Lennie. She was on her way down to the pub, thinking she was just going to hang out with him and his friends the way she often did. He couldn’t wait to see her face when he gave her the news.

From the time they’d reunited, they’d both made an effort to ensure she didn’t get behind in her schoolwork. Her academic year was now over, as was his season. They’d have the whole summer to spend together, though Lennie would be working: Jimmy O’Brien couldn’t work behind the bar anymore, and she was replacing him, at least until school resumed in September. During the day she’d be designing and making clothing. Sinead had spread the word among some of her friends and colleagues about Lennie’s talents as a designer. She now had enough commissions to start saving money so she could look for her own place soon.

“Where’s the little woman?” asked Thad, already on his second whiskey.

“She’ll be here soon,” Sebastian said confidently. His eyes flew to the front door of the pub every time it opened. He couldn’t help it. He was jumping out of his skin with excitement.

Uncle Yuri had wept when Sebastian told him he’d be in New York three more years. Sebastian was trying to figure out a way to help out his uncle financially without insulting him. He knew he’d never leave Brighton Beach, but if Yuri was willing, Sebastian wanted to buy him an apartment outright. Why should his beloved relative pay rent when he didn’t have to? Sebastian was also intent on persuading his uncle to take a trip back to Russia with him this summer. Easier said than done; even though his uncle knew things had changed back home, he’d been deeply scarred by the prejudice he’d had to endure for years.

Jason Mitchell nudged Sebastian in the ribs. “Here’s your gal.” Sebastian’s heart gave a thud as his eyes turned to Lennie, who had walked over to the bar to say a quick hello to Christie, her aunt Mary, and Rudy II, who was wearing the Greek fisherman’s cap Lennie had made for him. Sebastian quelled his impatience, knowing he couldn’t expect her to just breeze past those close to her without saying hello.

She looked beautiful. She always looked beautiful. Her long hair was loosely pinned up, gentle tendrils falling around her face. Tight faded jeans and a tight long-sleeved purple T-shirt hugged her firm, curvy body. She’d wrapped a gold scarf around her neck. He liked that she took care with her appearance—just one of the many ways they were alike.

Thank you for lying, he thought. Thank you for pretending to be “New To New York.”

When she finally came toward him, it was with a smile that lit up the room. Gratitude again swelled in his heart. He couldn’t believe that she’d chosen him, she who was so beautiful and talented she could have any man she wanted.

“Hey, you,” she said, kissing him.

“Hey, you,” he returned with a big hug.

“Hey, guys.” Sebastian’s teammates greeted her, and he could see the undeniable glint of anticipation in their eyes, which was not lost on Lennie.

“What’s up?”

Sebastian broke into a slow grin. “Guess.”

“Oh, God.” Lennie’s hands flew to cover her mouth for a moment. “You’re staying, aren’t you?”

“Yes!” He picked her up and twirled her around. “Three years!”

Lennie let out a whoop so loud other diners turned to look at her.

“Sorry,” she apologized to the dining room, cringing a little but still exuberant. “I just found out my boyfriend is going to be in town for three more years!” She turned to Sebastian, touching him all over, as if she couldn’t quite believe he was flesh and blood. “I’ve been praying every night, I swear to God. I even had my aunt and Mrs. O’Brien light candles at church.”

“Well, it looks like it worked.”

Sebastian pulled up an empty chair from the table across from them. “Come, sit down,” he said to Lennie.

“Not yet,” she said, taking his hand. “We’ve got to tell Christie and Aunt Mary the good news.” Lennie was certain she was smiling like an idiot as she and Sebastian headed to the bar, but she didn’t care. She was euphoric. Even though she’d been trying to take each day as it came since she and Sebastian had reunited, there had always been the nagging fear in the back of her mind that when the hockey season ended, he’d be leaving New York—and her.

She excitedly pulled Sebastian to the lip of the bar, the two of them squeezing in between The Mouth and PJ Leary, who claimed he’d found a publisher for his Celtic magnum opus.

“Hey, everyone, listen up.”

The regulars quieted.

“An announcement from our comely young maiden here,” said The Mouth delightedly. “It’s not often—”

“Close your gob and let her talk, eh?” Mr. O’Brien’s voice was chiding but affectionate. He smiled at Lennie. “Go on, love.”

“Sebastian has been signed to the Blades for three more years!”

A cheer went up. “Fantastic!” said Mr. O’Brien. “Here, come round the bar, let me give you a hug.”

Lennie scooted behind the bar, giddy as the old Irishman folded her in a soft embrace. “I hope this doesn’t mean you’re going to put off making that jacket for me, now,” he teased, wagging a finger at her.

“Of course not. I’ll have it to you at the end of the summer, as promised.”

Mr. O’Brien leaned over the bar to shake Sebastian’s hand. “Congrats. Drinks for you and your teammates are on the house tonight.”

“Thank you,” said Sebastian. “That’s very kind of you.”

“I told you he’d be here longer than a year,” Christie whispered smugly in Lennie’s ear.

“You did not!”

Christie chuckled. “Okay, I didn’t, but aren’t you glad you decided to chance it with him?”

“Yes—and I suppose in a way I do owe it all to you,” Lennie admitted thoughtfully.

“You do. Which means you owe me. Which means I decide how you repay me.”

“I’ll make you any item of clothing you want.”

Christie snorted. “Screw that! I want your boyfriend to introduce me to one of his teammates.”

“Well, we’ll see what we can do.”

Lennie rejoined Sebastian on the other side of the bar. “Look at your aunt,” he whispered, tilting his head in her direction. “She’s beaming.”

Lennie took Sebastian’s hand and went to join her aunt, putting her arms around her neck and kissing her cheek. “I’m so happy!”

“Happy! Happy Happy!” Rudy crowed.

“How do you say ‘Congratulations’ in Russian?” Aunt Mary asked Sebastian.

“Pazdravlyayoo.”

Aunt Mary looked crestfallen. “I think that might be too much of a mouthful for Rudy to learn.”

“Nonsense.” Sebastian held out his arm so Rudy could perch there. Within five minutes, Rudy was squawking “Pazdravlyayoo!” repeatedly.

“Thanks a lot,” Mr. O’Brien lamented playfully. “Now I’m gonna have to teach him some Gaelic to balance it all out. Can’t have him spouting off in Russian in an Irish bar, can we?”

Sebastian returned Rudy to Aunt Mary, then took Lennie’s hand, squeezing it. “Look,” he said, pointing at the table where they’d had their first conversation. The couple sitting there were getting up to leave.

“Fate,” Lennie declared as she quickly pulled him over to it before anyone else had a chance to nab it. She went to sit in the chair opposite Sebastian, but he was having none of it as he pulled her down onto his lap.

“So, are you new to New York?” Sebastian murmured seductively in her ear.

Lennie laughed delightedly as she twined her arms around his neck. “Why, yes, I am,” she played along.

“Very nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

He kissed her shoulder. “Perhaps we might go out sometime.”

“That would be wonderful,” Lennie enthused, cupping his cheek. “Any idea on what you might like to do?”

Sebastian’s eyes glinted with love. “Anything is fine as long as I get to do it with you, milaya moya.”

Lennie wrapped her arms tighter around him.

“I couldn’t have said it better myself.”