Dimitri Read Free

the
idea of Benny being hurt by her brother's stupid
choices.
    "Listen," he said and rubbed his hands over the
denim covering her thighs. "Why don't you come up to my apartment?
Let me cook you dinner."
    And keep an eye on you…
    "Oh, Dimitri, you don’t have to offer to make
me dinner. I'll be okay."
    "I want to make you dinner." He didn't add that
he wanted so much more than that with her.
    For more than a year, he'd been secretly in
love with Benny. The change from friendship to infatuation had come
upon him so slowly; he hadn't even fully realized how he felt
toward her until the day her grandmother had passed.
    Overcome with grief, Benny had rushed into his
arms and he'd cradled her on his lap as she wept. Holding her felt
like the most natural thing in the world—and he'd never wanted to
let her go. He'd been overwhelmed with the realization that he
loved her.
    But he hadn't been brave enough to say it then.
Nor had he found the courage to do it any day since. The few times
he'd come close to asking Benny out for dinner or a drink, he'd
lost his nerve. He was keenly aware of the huge burdens she
shouldered and he liked that she felt comfortable coming to him for
help. The idea that making his move might upset the balance of
their friendship and push her away from him stopped Dimitri from
taking a chance.
    Moving his hands to her jean-clad knees, he
said, "We'll open a bottle of wine and you can relax while I cook
you something delicious. And we'll talk. We'll figure out a way to
deal with Johnny and his mess. Okay?"
    Something flashed in her dark eyes. Interest,
perhaps? He didn't dare hope for anything more.
    With a smile, she acquiesced.
"Okay."
    "Wonderful." He stood and gestured to the desk.
"You recount the money. I'll go check the list and lock up the
back."
    She handed him the keys and clipboard. Their
fingers briefly touched and the searing heat of it made his gut
clench. He couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to have
her soft, small hands touching other parts of him.
    Taking a step back, he said, "Come find me when
you're ready."
    "I will."
    He quickly retreated from the office and
returned to the storeroom. List in hand, he checked and rechecked
the delivered supplies before locking up and shutting off the
lights. He heard her come into the back room of the bakery and
waited for her to find him. The sweet smell of her, the bare hints
of vanilla beans and cinnamon, curled around him and heightened his
awareness of her. It took every ounce of his control not to reach
for her hand and pull her toward him in the darkness.
    Her gentle voice rolled over him. "I'm
ready."
    God, how he wished that was true.
     

Chapter
Two
     
    An hour and a half later, I sank into the comfy
corner of Dimitri's couch and curled my bare feet up onto the
cushion. He'd insisted I kick off my shoes the second I came in the
door. After being on my aching feet all day, it was a request I was
happy to meet.
    I'd only been in his apartment a handful of
times since he'd signed his first lease five years ago but each
time I noticed something different. Tonight it was the display of
photos he'd placed on the far wall. Some of them were from his time
in the Russian military and one of their Special Forces units. A
maroon beret in a shadow box caught my eye. I'd never really asked
him about his time working in the elite unit but a little Google-fu
had shown me what kind of dangers he'd faced and survived during
the various engagements with terrorists and the wars that had taken
place during his service.
    I spotted familiar faces in the photos from his
time here in Houston. Ivan, Yuri and Nikolai, his childhood friends
from Russia, were in most of them. The men all shared the same
commanding dispositions. They were the types of men you met only
once but never forgot.
    My gaze lingered on a framed news clipping. Two
years ago, the paper had run a series of spotlights on successful
businesses headed by immigrants. My grandmother had