Saving Katya (13 page)

Alexei grabbed Kate’s hand and pulled her to her feet, enveloping her in his embrace. She cuddled close to him and met him halfway for a kiss that pulled them together like a magnet to steel.

The days following Kate’s surgery had been daunting ones for both Kate and Alexei, until the bandages came off and Kate’s vision was fully intact. As soon as Kate was released from the hospital, she, Alexei and Katya left the United States. They married three months later in Paris.

Once the press got hold of the inside story—a story that painted a picture about a US senator who was trying to tear apart a family—the scandal was too much for Rachel Portman’s career. She was pressured to resign, while Alexei Petrova had received a formal invitation to return to the US.

And finally, all was right with the world. Alexei and Kate were together. Tonight their daughter would make her debut on the ice at the end of their final-act performance.

Having organized the Champions on Ice show, Alexei and Kate had been on the road since the tour opened eight months ago. They hadn’t yet decided which country they’d end up claiming residence, but it mattered little.

As long as they were together—they were home.

*Thank you for reading
Saving Katya
. If you enjoyed this book, please consider leaving a review at your favorite online retailer. Please turn the page for the bonus short story
Separate Ways.
It’s a contemporary tale about a woman who crosses paths with her first love and discovers just how much she regrets now belonging to someone else.*

Separate Ways

by

Sandra Edwards

I’VE NEVER
been able to cross over the Lost Creek bridge without thinking about Jeffrey Dean Ramsey. And it’s impossible to get into the town of Cypress Falls off the Interstate without it—unless you take the long way around. But that involves a lot of back roads. And trust me, you don’t want to get lost on some Louisiana back road in a rental car. It ain’t exactly L.A.—which is where I live now.

I suppose there’s some deeply-buried lonely part of me that enjoys revisiting my past upon occasion. But a past with a guy like Blue—as his friends used to call him—is worth remembering. Especially when you’ve got a cad like Keith waiting at home in the here and now.

Tango’s sits about a mile up from the bridge on the outskirts of town. That’s the only place they’ll let a bar exist around Cypress Falls. This one’s been there since the dawn of time, I think. I can remember Tango’s back when I was a kid. In fact, I got my first alcoholic drink there when I was seventeen—yeah, it wasn’t legal back then either.

Usually, when I come back home, if it’s not a family thing, it almost always has something to do with heartaches and regrets. This time was no exception. My husband Keith had gone off on one of his
business trips
again and the kids were away on a summer trip to Cancun—I should be so lucky—so there wasn’t really much reason for me to sit around the house. Plus, I never was the kind of girl to sit around waiting for a guy to show up—even if he was my husband.

Times like this I always liked to drop by Tango’s before heading for my parents’ home. A little liquid courage never hurt anybody, especially when you know what’s waiting for you when you get to the house. Facing the ridicule of my mother was never easy—at any age. And my mother always has plenty to say about my marriage, even after all these years.

I tapped on the brakes and let the car roll to a stop near the front door of Tango’s. There were only a couple of cars in the lot and I was glad I wasn’t likely to run into a bunch of people who’d be asking all kinds of nosey questions about my very famous twin sister or my failure to nab, and hold onto, a husband who was at best a second-rate actor.

I let out some of my frustration when I palmed open the wooden door. Inside, the barroom was as empty as the parking lot. Tango was behind the bar wiping down the counter, and not looking much older than he had when he served me my first drink twenty-five years ago—God, had it been that long? It seemed like yesterday.

I approached the bar and he gave me a wink and half smile. “Long time no see, Ginger. What’ll you have…the usual?”

“Sounds good, Tango,” I said, claiming a barstool.

He reached into the cooler and grabbed a frosty bottle of Miller. “How’s the world treating you?” he asked, setting the beer in front of me.

“It’s a cruel world, Tango. Damn cruel world.”

“What’s the matter...?” A voice as smooth as Southern Comfort and as sensually sweet as a chunk of DeLafée’s chocolate snuck up behind me. “The law business short on entertainment clients these days?”

My heart damn near stopped right then and there. Not because of what was said, but because of who said it. I looked over my shoulder. “Jeffrey Dean Ramsey...as I live and breathe.”

His baby blues twinkled as he gave me one of his trademark grins. When he smiled, it was hard for a girl to resist. Then and now.

“Ginger...” he called my name and everything after that was a blur. At least that’s the story I’m telling for how I ended up in his arms.

It wasn’t as bad as all that though. It was just one of those friendly greetings between old friends that went on a little too long because we also happened to be ex-lovers. You see, Jeffrey Dean was my first.

He inched me an arm’s length away and gave me a good once-over. “Ginger, you haven’t changed a bit.” Yeah, right. It’d been at least twenty years. “You’re as lovely as ever.”

“And you’re as good a liar as ever.” We laughed and I climbed back up on my barstool.

“May I?” he asked, gesturing to the empty stool at my side.

“Be my guest.” I shrugged.

Jeffrey Dean joined me at the bar and Tango served us Tequila Sunrises—in honor of those old high school days.

“Hey, do you remember when we met?” Jeffrey Dean elbowed my arm.

How could I forget? It was the night of the summer festival that had always taken place around the Fourth of July holiday. It was the break between tenth and eleventh grade for me. Jeffrey Dean was new to the area, and he was going to be a senior with his own car—plus, he was a hell of a baseball player. He’d infused new hope into Cypress Falls that year, and he didn’t disappoint.

“Yeah,” I said, feeling a little blue. The memories were bittersweet. Mainly because it was a time of such happiness, but it wasn’t meant to last. “I remember that...and a lot more.”

“It took a little while to talk you up on that Ferris Wheel.” He gave a little triumphant laugh, even now after all these years.

“Yeah, well...” I rolled my eyes. “You were gifted like that.” I let out a snort and grabbed my cocktail glass. I could see this heading south at any moment.

Jeffrey Dean leaned closer to me. “I hear they still hold that festival every year at this time.” He waited for me to look at him. When I did, he said, “You going?”

Images of my mother badgering me to go, just like she’d done on that fateful night when I first met “Blue”, filled my head. “I hardly doubt I could avoid it.”

He stared at me for what seemed like forever, just looking at me the way he used to—his eyes, like bright sapphires, effectively prolonged the moment. I was torn, knowing I should tell him to stop but I was enjoying the feeling washing over me. It was a sensation I hadn’t felt in ages, and right up until this very instant I hadn’t realized just how much I’d missed it—him.

Needless to say, I was feeling pretty foolish about sinking back into those old high school daydreams. I needed to get out of there before I did something I’d regret. Well, maybe not regret so much as feel damned guilty about.

I looked at my watch. “Oh, look at the time.” I grabbed my purse off the counter and pushed myself up from my stool. “It was nice seeing you again, but I’ve got to go.”

I made it to my car without looking over my shoulder, and I was damned proud of myself for it. I hit the unlock button on my key fob and reached for the handle. All I had to do was get in the car and I was home free. So why’d I feel like prey being stalked by a highly effective predator?

“Ginger...” He called my name and then followed it with a bit of a laugh.

Get in the car, Ginger
. My mental instruction did no good. I glanced over my shoulder.

The years had been good to Jeffrey Dean Ramsey. Shoulder-length black curls had me thinking about things I shouldn’t. Broad shoulders, a trim waistline, and long legs all looked tempting on his tall, athletic frame. Geez, he was good to look at.

I shook my hair back out of my face and squared my shoulders—like that’d really help. “You in town for a while?” I asked, mostly because I couldn’t think of anything else to say. But there was a little part of me that was curious about his plans. He nodded and tossed me a tempting glance. “Good,” I said. “Maybe I’ll see you around before I leave.” I opened the car door, slid behind the wheel and slammed the door shut. Honestly, I was feeling pretty good about putting so much metal and steel between us, but I’d be lying if I said the thought to lock the doors didn’t cross my mind.

As I turned the key in the ignition, I glanced up at the doorway and saw him mouth the words, “You can count on it.”

* * *

It’s amazing how nearly twenty-five years of adulthood can dissipate in a matter of minutes when you’re sitting at the dinner table with your parents. And it seemed like they were still arguing about the same thing. My older sister Risa. I had no idea what Risa had done this time, but considering that she’d been married and out of the house for over twenty years it did have me wondering.

“It’s none of our business, June.” My father’s voice was calm, yet chastising, as he talked to my mother. “It’s Risa’s business. She’ll deal with it as she sees fit.”

Wait
... “Deal with what?” I was curious now and very near the edge of panic. Was something wrong with Risa, Mike, or God forbid, my niece Lisa? That was all I needed to fall over the edge.

“It’s nothing for you to get worked up over, dear.” My mother took on her stern look as she rested her wrists on the edge of the table. “Mike and Risa have hit a rough patch. Nothing to worry about I’m sure. Risa’s a smart—”

“June!” My father cut my mother off, and I can’t say I was disappointed. When she goes off on her rants about Mike and Risa it always starts with something about a rough patch. I think that was more wishful thinking on my mother’s part than anything else.

My father’s trademark glare was enough to shut my mother down. She didn’t say anything more about Risa. Instead, she turned on me. “You’re not wearing that to the carnival tonight, are you?” She gave my attire—business casual—a quick once over and dismissed it with a critical frown.

“Well, gee, Mother...” I cleared my throat, trying to convince myself that I didn’t need to answer to her. “I hadn’t thought about going.” But who was I kidding? It was a fate my sisters and I were cursed with. Each of us reverted straight back to our childhood whenever we were in the presence of our mother.

“Well of course you’re going. What would people think if a Franklin was in town and didn’t attend the carnival?”

Never mind that I hadn’t been a Franklin in a really long time now. “I hardly think the world’s going to fall apart if I miss the fair, Mother.” Okay, so maybe that was a little harsh, but it wasn’t often that I got a chance to outmaneuver June Royce Franklin.

My mother’s face reddened and her eyes bulged wide. She shot me a quick glance and I swear I practically saw the daggers flinging my way, but then she cleared her throat quietly and repositioned herself in her chair. “Art…” She addressed my father in a hushed tone. “Would you please talk some sense into Virginia?”

Uh oh. She only called me
Virginia
when she was really pissed at me.

My father glanced back and forth between us several times before his gaze finally settled on me. “Ginger’s more than willing to go to the fair.” The look he’d shot me hardened. “Aren’t you, Ginger?”

I almost burst out laughing. This was turning into a déjà vu moment for me. My father was bribing me, just as he’d done when I was sixteen years old. I wondered if the going rate was still twenty bucks. My mother hadn’t known then, and I doubted she knew it now. “Sure, Daddy.” Giving in was easy. I’ve always been a daddy’s girl.

“Besides…” Devilish laughter played with Daddy’s words. “She just might run into J.D. Ramsey.”

“Art!” Mother’s voice went into chastising overdrive. “Ginger is a married woman.”

“Yes. And you keep calling that marriage a mistake.” Daddy looked at me and winked. “Did you hear he’s back in town?”

Yep. Already ran into him
. “Is that right?” I asked, and dropped it at that. All-Star J.D. Ramsey was exactly the kind of son-in-law a guy like my father lived for. Blue had gone pro straight out of college, and immediately commenced breaking records by the dozens over the course of his twenty-year career in the Majors.

I hated the thought of disappointing my father, but the sad truth was Blue Ramsey wasn’t anymore interested in marrying me now than he was back then. All Blue had ever cared about was getting me into the sack. I prided myself on being older and wiser now. I wasn’t about to revisit that fool’s goal again.

“We all thought he’d take a sports casting job out in L.A.—”

Bite your tongue, Daddy!
The last thing I needed was Blue out in L.A., tempting me every time Keith strayed. “Maybe he’ll stay here, Daddy, and you can work on getting Georgia to marry him for you.”

My mother’s laughter snorted out through her nose until it finally broke into full-blown amusement. That was a great thing about my mother, she’d surprise me every now and then. She certainly had this time by seeing the humor in my repartee about my twin sister who was also my only unmarried sibling.

The fact remained that my mother wasn’t going to let up about the carnival. She was fully expecting me to go. And I was wholly afraid to. Nothing good could come from putting myself in a familiar situation with Blue Ramsey.