Only For Tonight

Alexei

She’s petite yet curvy with a nice ass and beautiful tits. But that’s not the first thing I notice about her.

The first thing that strikes me is that her coat isn’t warm enough for a Chicago winter.

It’s dark out, and barely above freezing. She’s standing on a street corner discussing something with a man in hushed tones, waving her hands dramatically as she speaks. It’s nearly midnight, and the street is almost deserted.

She has long dark hair, a trim build, and a full pouty mouth. And she seems to be pissed off. Curious about her, I stalk closer and then slow my pace.

“Fine. Tell me what it’ll take, sweetheart,” the guy says to her.

She stiffens and puts one hand on her hip. “I’m not for sale, asshole. I did my job, but that’s it. When you step outside those doors, the fantasy ends.”

They’re standing outside a dingy club, the kind of place that smells of rancid smoke, cheap beer, and meaningless sex. I should know. I’ve been here once or twice for bachelor parties and those kinds of things. My friends would call it a titty bar. But my friends are mostly pro football players, and their manners leave a lot to be desired.

The place isn’t really a strip club, more like a topless bar where beautiful women serve drinks in their underwear. It all seemed innocent enough, until now . . . until a sinking feeling washes over me as I watch this woman get propositioned in the street as she’s trying to leave work.

The guy laughs, the sound abrasive, like he doesn’t believe her. “Three hundred bucks. Come on, baby. It’ll be fast.”

She chews on one of those pouty lips as she weighs his words, contemplating what looks to be a life-changing decision . . . and not life-changing in a positive way.

Don’t do it, lady . . . just say no to what this asshole is offering you.

Part of me knows I need to mind my own damn business, that this guy just wants a quick fuck. Who am I to judge how this woman chooses to support herself? The other part of me—the fierce protector of the female gender—says this is a situation that I can’t ignore. I won’t allow this asshole to force a woman to do something she’s not comfortable with.

I walk over, my legs moving of their own volition.

“Excuse me,” I say, interrupting them.

Her gaze swings over to mine, and the guy she’s with does a double-take. I tower over him by at least half a foot. Now that I have a better look at him, I see the guy is middle-aged, round in the midsection, his hair graying at his temples. I also know I can take him if it comes to that.

He shoots me a look that’s half pissed off that I interrupted his bargaining session, and half panicked that I may kick his ass. The latter is definitely what he should be more concerned about if he tries any shit. I may just decide to do it anyway, despite the fact I just promised my agent I’ll behave myself and not end up on any more tabloid news sites.

“The lady said to leave her alone. I suggest you get the fuck out of here.” I glare down at the guy.

His eyes narrow, but he takes a step back and holds up his palms. “Fine. Going.”

He takes off down the street and disappears around the corner, leaving me standing across from the woman. She’s probably no more than five foot three, a hundred twenty pounds soaking wet. No way she could have defended herself against someone his size. More importantly, she shouldn’t have to defend herself from that prick.

“Were you really going to go home with that guy?”

She shakes her head. “No. He didn’t want to take me home. Just wanted me to show him my boobs and have me give him a hand job in the back seat of his car. He may or may not have mentioned something about finishing himself off on my breasts too.”

I wait to see if she’s joking, but sadly, I can tell what she’s saying is the truth.

Then she looks at me, with the prettiest shade of blue eyes I’ve ever seen, and my heart almost stops. “For the record—guys are gross.”

I chuckle at her surprising honesty. “Not denying that.”

Men can be real creeps. I’ve seen the evening news. Sadly, there’s just no arguing against her logic. Some of us are still good guys, but I don’t say this to her. I just let her believe what she wants.

“I’m Alexei,” I say, offering her my hand.

For a second, she just looks at my hand, and I don’t think she’s going to take it. But then finally, after deciding that she can trust me, at least for something as simple as a handshake, she places her small palm in mine and shakes my hand. She’s freezing.

“I’m Ryleigh. Thanks for, um . . . saving me.”

I haven’t done anything yet. I wanted to punch that guy in the fucking jaw when I heard him propositioning her. Instead, I let him walk away unscathed. Lucky prick.

“Do you work here?” I lift my gaze to the neon sign blazing above our heads in the darkness. I scrub a hand over my face as I picture the petite woman standing before me scantily clad and serving drinks to a group of horny men with grabby hands and fat wallets.

She nods.

“You a stripper, then?” I ask.

Ryleigh makes an annoyed sound in her throat. “It’s a topless bar. I’m not a stripper.”

I knew as much, but part of me didn’t want to admit I’ve been a customer at the place. It’s not exactly a classy establishment. “But you serve drinks in your underwear.”

“As I said, men are gross. Sadly, they also pay my bills.”

I chuckle, again surprised by her. “I’m not denying it. And not that you asked for it, but in my point of view, men are visual creatures. And women are beautiful. We enjoy seeing them any chance we can get.”

She merely rolls her eyes, clearly not buying my bullshit. “Listen, as nice as it is to freeze my lady balls off and stand out here talking to you, I need to find a way to get home.”

“Where’s your ride? I can wait with you.” The words just stumbling out of my mouth before I can think about it.

“My car’s in the shop, and my friend bailed on giving me a ride.”

I nod, processing everything. Something also tells me she needs that three hundred bucks the guy was offering her. I take a deep breath, weighing my options. It’s either go home alone to my $6 million penthouse and lie awake wondering if she’s okay . . . or drive her home myself and convince her to just take the money I have in my wallet. It’s not like I need it.

As tired as I was walking out of my dinner meeting with Slate, now I’m way too keyed up for sleep. It’s then that I realize going home alone would be pointless.

“Is that what you needed the money for? Your car?”

Her inquisitive blue gaze meets mine, and for a second, I think she’s going to deny that she needs the money. She’ll probably try to save face by telling me I read the situation wrong, and she was never actually entertaining that scumbag’s offer.

Instead, she surprises me for the third time in five minutes.

“No. Well, yes. But not tonight. My immediate concern is getting home and taking care of my roommate’s baby.”

“Baby?” I ask, lifting one eyebrow.

She nods, tucking a long strand of silky brown hair behind her ear. “My ex-roommate, actually. She, um, dropped off her baby a few days ago and left. I have no idea when she’s coming back. I need to pick up diapers, more clothes, and baby formula. All of that stuff costs money.” Ryleigh straightens, her posture stiffening, like she’s revealed too much. “You know what, don’t worry about it. I’ll figure it out. I always do.”

“Where’s the baby now?” It’s after midnight, after all. But no matter how late it is, I’m not letting her walk away just yet.

“My neighbor is babysitting her so I could work.”

Something inside me believes Ryleigh’s telling the truth. Even though the last thing I want to do tonight is deal with a sad woman who has what sounds like more drama than an episode of Law & Order, with an even more unusual twist of playing nanny for someone’s baby, I find myself gesturing toward my car. My black Mercedes is parked right across the street.

“I’ll take you.”

She narrows her eyes. “I don’t even know who you are. Why would I trust you?”

I don’t point out that she was just considering getting into the car of a complete stranger. Or that she was considering doing unsavory activities with said stranger. I could tell her it’s because I grew up with three sisters, and I have a big heart. I could tell her that I have six nieces and nephews, that I’m good with babies. I could even hand her my business card and tell her she could ruin me with one call to the media about how I tried to pick her up outside a nightclub. But I don’t say any of those things. Instead, I find myself wanting her to trust me on instinct alone.

I finally settle on, “Because I’m offering to help you. No strings.”

“No strings, as in I don’t have to show you my boobs?”

I almost choke on the laugh that crawls up my chest. “Only if you want to, but remember . . . we men are visual creatures.” I offer her my best playboy smirk, the one that usually makes women swoon, only to find it has no effect on Ryleigh.

Strange.

Maybe it’s because she doesn’t know who I am, but she treats me differently than the women I usually meet, as if I’m a regular guy and not a famous millionaire sports star who easily melts women with simply a smile.

Ryleigh has no idea that I’m Alex Ivan, pro football player for the Chicago Hawks. She doesn’t swoon and bat her eyelashes or try to impress me. In fact, she doesn’t follow any of the normal protocols. Clearly, she’s not a gold digger, because if she were, she could talk me out of way more than three hundred bucks. An even bigger part of me knows I could add several zeroes behind that figure, and she’d need every damn dime.

“Fine. I’ll take the ride. But it’s going to be a hard pass on the boobs.”

“Whatever you want.”

The truth is, she’s gorgeous, and if she wanted to share her body with me, I’d jump at the fucking chance. But something about her no-nonsense demeanor tells me that’s not going to happen, which is probably for the best. I don’t have time to get tangled up in something right now, anyway. I have to focus on myself and my career now more than ever.

After another moment’s hesitation, Ryleigh looks back at the club one last time, and then to my car. I can see the moment she makes up her mind, letting out a soft sigh.

“Don’t make me regret this,” she mutters under her breath before she follows me to my car.

I hit the button on the key fob to start the engine, then unlock the doors. When we slide inside, I turn up the heat and direct the vents toward her.

“Thank you,” she says, buckling her seat belt. “Nice car.” Her gaze lingers on the sleek wood paneling, supple leather, and chrome fixtures.

“Thanks,” I murmur, suddenly feeling a little sheepish about the opulence of my luxury sedan while she has to consider back-alley propositions just to feed her baby. No, not her baby, her ex-roommate’s baby, which makes this entire situation even crazier. I shift into drive and pull out onto the road. “So, where to?”

“Oh, right.” Ryleigh rattles off her address, and I wince.

I’ve only been to that area of the city once, and it was by accident because I was lost. It’s not a safe or very nice area, and I hate to think about her walking around after dark alone, petite beauty that she is.

“So, your name, Alexei, is that . . .”

“Russian. My parents moved here when I was six.” I also have no fucking clue why I told her my name is Alexei. Everyone calls me Alex. Everyone except for my mothers and sisters.

“Do you remember much of it? Living in Russia? I’ve never been out of the United States. I’ve barely been out of the Midwest.”

“A little. My parents tried to keep up the traditions for us. They were proud of their heritage. We spoke Russian at home, and every Friday, my mother would make a big traditional meal.”

“What kinds of foods are in traditional Russian meals? Like borscht?”

I chuckle. “Borscht is disgusting.” It’s a beet soup that looks like a bowl of blood. “My favorites were the cabbage rolls and herb-and-meat-filled pies she would make.”

“That sounds amazing. I haven’t eaten a real home-cooked meal in a long time.”

All this talk about food makes me wonder if she’s hungry, if I should offer to stop and get something for her to eat. Then I decide against it because I don’t want her to feel that I think she’s a charity case. Plus, dinner together seems too personal, and I can’t do personal right now. She’s a big girl. She can feed herself.

The conversation I just had with my agent at dinner rings through my head. I need to keep my head down and stay focused on winning. Prove that I’m worth the huge contract that was just plopped into my lap. Period.

“What about you?” I ask. “Family in the area?”

She shakes her head, folding her hands in her lap. “I was an only child. Both of my parents have passed on.”

“I’m sorry.” Shit. Now I wish I’d never asked, because her story has gotten even more pitiful.

She shakes her head, still looking out the windshield. “It’s okay.”

We drive in silence for a few minutes, and when we get closer to her neighborhood, I spot a superstore that’s all lit up on the corner, one of those twenty-four-hour places. I pull into the parking lot and park the car.

Ryleigh’s gaze swings to mine, and I can sense the question on her parted lips.

I recall a piece of advice a coach gave me once about how people would come out of the woodwork asking for money once I signed my first big contract. He recommended instead of giving out cash that I should give them what they need—you know, like paying an electric bill versus handing someone a hundred bucks.

“Why are you stopping here? My place is still a few blocks away.” She gives me a curious look.

“Let’s get the stuff you need.” Plus, if she’s lying about the baby, now would be the time to come clean.

She swallows and nods. “Thank you.”

I grab a cart and we wander the store aisles, finally locating the baby section. She grabs a package of diapers, the smallest she can find, and places it in the cart. I know how quickly babies go through diapers. Those will only last her a couple of days, and I open my mouth to object. Then I decide I’m being a controlling asshole, and should let her do this her way. Next, we find baby formula, and Ryleigh selects a yellow tub of the stuff, groaning when she sees how expensive it is. Babies go through formula faster than diapers, and I know she needs a few of those tubs, but I stay focused on what she wants.

“What else do you need?” I ask, turning to face her.

Under the bright lights, I can see how truly beautiful she is for the first time. Her hair is the color of deep honey. It looked brown outside, but here in the light, shades of gold run through the soft waves. Her skin is like porcelain, soft and creamy, and her eyes are the most striking shade of blue, fringed in thick black lashes. Stunning.

As if she can sense me watching her, she chews on her lower lip and shakes her head. “I’m really not sure. I don’t know the first thing about babies. She cries a lot, and I . . .”

“How old is she?”

“Two months.”

I push the cart to the next aisle and find what I’m looking for. “Does she use one of these?” I ask, selecting a pacifier.

“I’m not sure. My ex-roommate left me with almost nothing. It’s worth a shot.”

I toss a couple of them into the cart and then grab a Boppy pillow. “What about one of these?”

Ryleigh’s delicately arched eyebrows lift. “What the hell is it?”

I laugh again, amused by her honesty. “It’s a special pillow. She can do tummy time. Sometimes the crying is due to gas bubbles. This could help.”

“How do you know so much about babies?” Her eyes widen and lock onto mine.

I shrug, pushing the cart toward the checkout. “I have six nieces and nephews. I babysit them sometimes.” Whether I want to or not. I smile, thinking about my sisters shoving one or more babies into my arms anytime we’re at a family gathering.

We work together unloading the contents of the cart onto the conveyor belt. When the cart is empty, I pull out my gold card and hand it to the cashier.

Ryleigh stiffens. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I’ve got this, no worries.”

She looks at me, and I can see the wheels spinning in her head. She wants to trust me, wants to think I’m being chivalrous and gallant, but she’s wary because she’s likely never had a white knight ride in and save her. I see her underlying distrust, and for some reason, I want to prove to her that tonight, her white knight is real.

Besides, I’m not letting her spend whatever tip money she made tonight on this. I’m sure she needs it for other things, like fixing her car or feeding herself, not for taking care of a baby unexpectedly dropped off on her doorstep. I still need to get to the bottom of that story, but I sense that now’s not the time.

The cashier is watching our exchange with narrowed eyes. I smile and whisper to Ryleigh that she can pay me back if she likes, but it’s really not necessary.

The cashier rings up the items we’ve purchased, and I accept the bags after sliding my credit card back into my wallet.

Once I have the bags loaded into the back seat of my car, we set off again. A few minutes later, we’ve arrived, and when I park on the street and step out of the car, I get angry.

Really. Fucking. Angry.

And my anger only intensifies with every step toward Ryleigh’s apartment.

Ryleigh I have no idea how my night has spiraled so far out of control. Scratch that, not my night—my life.

My roommate, Andi, disappeared more than six months ago, leaving me high and dry with an unpaid rent bill. And then a few days ago, she appeared again out of nowhere, only this time with a baby, promising she’d pay me back and make everything right.

Stupidly, I believed her, let her in, and she stayed the night. But in the morning, she was gone, leaving little Ella behind with a note that simply said I’m sorry.

Alexei follows behind me, appraising everything. After I pay Mrs. Henderson and collect Ella, I unlock my front door and shoulder my way inside my darkened apartment. Alexei is right behind me.

I flip the lights on and wince. Based on this guy’s car, his taste in clothing, and the way he whipped out his gold card like it was nothing to buy a stranger $70 worth of crap, he has money. Probably lots of it. I have almost none, barely enough to pay my rent and eat. And the decor shows it. Everything I own is secondhand. My brown couch sags in the middle, my dining chairs are mismatched, and my curtains are too short to fully cover the window.

I huff out an exhausted breath and set the baby carrier holding Ella onto the floor by the couch.

Alexei follows me around like a hulking lion of a man, his deep blue gaze seeing everything.

He’s angry. That much is certain.

“It’s freezing in here,” he says, frowning.

His voice is irritated, but it still manages to rip through me like lightning. It’s deep, rich, and sexy. It doesn’t matter that I don’t want to notice things like this about him; I just do. He’s spellbindingly gorgeous with this commanding presence, and I hate that he’s seeing me at my worst.

“I turn off the heat when I leave for the day.” I cross the room and adjust the thermostat. But rather than the heat humming to life like I expect, nothing happens. I try again, cursing under my breath. “Shit.”

“What’s wrong?”

I shake my head. No way I’m giving him the satisfaction of knowing I might not have paid the heating bill in time. I thought I had a few more days.

“Your heat doesn’t work?” He crosses the room to inspect the thermostat. He switches the bags he’s carrying to one hand while he fiddles with the settings, but nothing happens. The thing is ancient, and I’m not all that surprised.

Why didn’t he just drop me off and leave? Why didn’t I just take the bags out of his arms and thank him for the ride and the supplies? Why is he still here?

He still hasn’t set the bags down yet, like he isn’t sure where to place them, or maybe he doesn’t want to touch anything here. Probably the latter. I wouldn’t either if I were him.

I cross the room and reach for the bags, but he doesn’t release them. He just gazes at me with those blue eyes, darkened to the color of midnight right now, eyes that see too much. His scent is intoxicating, and I can’t help but breathe it in every time he’s near, a faint combination of leather, spice, and mint that makes my knees weak. It’s been way too long since I was with a man. About as long as it’s been since I ate my last home-cooked meal, if my math is accurate.

As if on cue, Ella starts to whimper softly, squirming in her seat. The chilly temperature is probably bothering her.

I’ve been doing my best to hold it all together, not only for my sanity, but also for Ella’s sake, but in this moment, I’m struck with sheer panic. What the hell am I going to do now?

Alexei doesn’t give me a moment to even process the answer to that question. He simply struts over to the baby carrier and lifts it as though it weighs nothing at all. The damn thing hurts my arm every time I carry it.

“You guys are coming back to my place. We’ll get this all sorted in the morning.”

I cross the room to stand toe to toe with him and place my hands on my hips. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know you from Adam. I’m not going home with a complete stranger.”

“You don’t have much of a choice. I’m not letting you and the baby stay here and freeze tonight. In case you didn’t notice, it’s below thirty outside, and it’s not much warmer in here.”

“Not letting me?” I sputter.

“That’s right. Now, get your shit. It’s way past her bedtime.” His gaze flicks to Ella, whose whimper has turned into a full-on cry.

I sigh and reach for her, lifting her out and bouncing her in my arms. As I expected, it does nothing to calm her.

“Let me have her.” He takes the baby from me and gently rubs small circles along her tiny back, having dropped the bags right on the floor. “When’s the last time she’s eaten?”

I check my phone for the time. It’s almost one in the morning now. Mrs. Henderson said Ella had her last bottle at ten. “Almost three hours ago.”

He nods. “She’s due soon, but let’s see if we can have her hold out until we get to my place. Then we’ll put her down to sleep.”

He continues patting her back, and when she lets out a huge burp, Alexei smiles. “There we go. Was that the problem, princess?”

She stops crying briefly, blinking as she searches for the source of the deep voice.

Holding her carefully in one of his huge arms, he opens a package of pacifiers and washes one in the sink with my anti-bacterial soap, and then gives it to Ella. She immediately begins sucking away, and her renewed cries fade into soft hiccups.

I blink at him. “How do you know all this?”

He shrugs. “A gaggle of nieces and nephews, as I mentioned. I’ve been around babies a lot. You pick things up.”

I’ve never spent much time around a baby, and these last few days have proved it. I have no idea what I’m doing with Ella, and I suddenly realize he’s right. It is way past her bedtime, and it really is freezing here. I can’t be selfish any longer. She’s not mine, but I’ve been entrusted with her care. No matter how pissed I am at Andi right now, I need to do the right thing. For Ella.

“Fine. We’ll come stay at your place for the night.”

Alexei only nods, like he expected my response all along. “I’ll get her car seat situated. You want to pack an overnight bag?” he asks, his voice softer. It still manages to tear straight through me.

“Yeah. It’ll just take me a second.”

He nods and heads outside into the cold, carrying both Ella, who is now happily sucking away at her pacifier in her carrier, as well as the bags of baby stuff we bought at the store.

Scrubbing one hand over my face, I muster the rest of the energy I have left and head into my bedroom to shove some things into a duffel bag. A change of clothes for both me and Ella, along with my toothbrush. In the kitchen, I toss in a couple of clean bottles, and a small package of baby wipes.

Then I fiddle with the thermostat one last time before giving up and heading out into the cold. Once I lock my front door, I rejoin Alexei in the car. It’s warm and smells like him, and for some strange reason, that calms me more than it should.

“Ready?” he asks.

I turn to face him, taking in the dark scruffy hair dusted along his jaw, his broad shoulders, the firm line of his mouth. “Are you sure? You don’t have to do this.”

“It’s fine, Ryleigh. It’s just one night, right?”

I nod. “Do you have a roommate or a . . . a wife, or anything?”

“No roommate. Definitely no wife. It’s just me. But there are two guest rooms, so you and . . . the baby can pick where you’d like to sleep.”

“Her name’s Ella.”

“Ella,” he repeats softly.

We’re quiet on the ride to Alexei’s place. It’s on the other side of the city in an area known to be where the young, wealthy elite live. He pulls unto an underground parking garage of a towering building, and has to show his credentials to a uniformed security guard who’s working at the gate.

“Good evening, Mr. Ivan,” the man says, his gaze wandering from Alexei to me, and then to the baby before widening in surprise.

“Night, Frank,” Alexei says to the guy, then pulls the car ahead when the gate opens. He parks in a well-lit underground parking lot, and then we take the elevator up to the penthouse level.

I’m having a very Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman moment here. But despite what Alexei saw earlier, I’m not a prostitute, and he certainly won’t be my knight in shining armor.

Suddenly, I’m struck by the need to correct him. “I wasn’t going to do anything with that guy, you know.”

He shrugs. “Not my business what you choose to do. I was merely trying to help you out of a situation I didn’t think you wanted to be in.”

I huff, pretty sure he doesn’t believe me. “Well, for your information, I’ve never done anything like that. So if you think you’re getting your dick sucked tonight or something, just because you bought us some diapers . . .”

Alexei holds up his hand. “Whoa. That’s not why I brought you here. And no offense, but I can get my dick sucked anytime I want.”

I have no idea what to make of that comment, like he’s got a bevy of women at his beck and call. But then the elevator doors slide open, and for a second, I just stand there and stare.

I’m not sure what I was expecting, but his apartment is enormous. Polished marble floors and floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the entire city dominate my view. There’s a modern kitchen that’s all stainless steel, white cabinets, and black granite, and a sunken living room with two huge, fluffy, cream-colored couches. The biggest flat-screen TV I’ve ever seen is mounted on one wall, and a hallway at the far end leads off to what I assume are the bedrooms.

“Come on in,” he says.

I step off the elevator and follow him inside. Alexei sets the shopping bags on the counter while I free Ella from her car seat. Once she’s in my arms, she begins crying again, and I let out a long exhale.

“May I?” he asks.

I pinch my lips together and hand Ella to him. I hate to admit defeat, but he does seem to know what he’s doing more than I do.

She looks so tiny resting against his massive chest. It doesn’t matter that the last thing I’m in the market for is a man, but seeing him with her does something to me. I think the technical term is ovary explosion. The way his big hands cradle her so carefully is so sweet that I nearly melt for this stranger who shouldn’t affect me like this at all.

Needing to make myself useful, I grab one of her bottles from my purse and dig the tub of baby formula out of the shopping bag. “I’ll feed her so we can go to bed and get out of your hair.”

He shrugs. “It’s no problem. I’m honestly more of a night person.”

I nod but continue making her bottle anyway. I doubt she’ll last much longer. Over the past couple of days, I’ve learned that she likes to eat about every four hours. Everything has been trial and error since. Andi left me exactly zero instructions.

Alexei’s deep voice interrupts my daydream. “There’s bottled water in the pantry.” He nods to the door at the end of the kitchen.

I go and grab a bottle of water and begin mixing up the formula.

“Are you hungry?” he asks. “You just got off work . . . I have pretzels, crackers, fruit, or I could make you a frozen pizza.”

My stomach rumbles loudly at the mention of food. “That would be great, actually. Just something simple. Pretzels would be fine.”

When the bottle is ready, Alexei reaches for it, uninterested in putting Ella down, it seems. I’m not sure why it surprises me that he’d like to feed her. He really is a natural with babies.

“Would you mind if I took a shower? I actually feel kind of gross after I work.”

“Not at all. Second doorway on the right. The towels are in the cabinet. Help yourself.”

I nod, but then hesitate for a moment longer.

“I’ve got her, Ryleigh. You don’t have to worry.”

Smiling, I meet his eyes. I haven’t had someone to help, someone to just be there for me in so long, that it makes my chest tighten. I have to turn away quickly because I’m afraid the emotional roller coaster I’ve been on since Andi left me with Ella will surface in front of Alexei, and I’m not sure I’m ready to be that vulnerable in front of this man.

“Thanks,” I say finally, ducking out of the kitchen as I rush for the sanctuary of the bathroom and a shower that will wash my tears away quietly.

***

When I emerge from the bathroom, I hear Alexi cooing softly to the baby and singing her a lullaby in what I assume is Russian. She’s cradled in his arms, her eyes sleepy as she looks up at him. The sight of her tiny fingers wrapped around his index finger almost brings me to my knees. Involuntarily, though, my mouth breaks into a smile as I listen for a moment longer. Then I clear my throat.

“Hey,” he says, his lips turning up in a smirk. “Your shower okay?” His gaze wanders from mine down to my bare legs, and then back up.

My hair is damp, and I’ve changed into a pair of purple boxer shorts and an oversized T-shirt. I can feel my cheeks turn pink, but I nod and join him on the couch.

“That showerhead is seven-ways-to-Sunday amazing.”

He chuckles. “Completely agree. That showerhead alone is worth double its price when you need to relax.”

He places Ella so she’s reclining on the couch, propped up by her new Boppy pillow and swaddled in her blanket like a little stuffed burrito.

“She took the whole bottle, and then I changed her. She should be ready for bed anytime.”

“Thank you.” I give her tiny pajama-covered foot a squeeze. It’s only then that I notice the spread on the coffee table. A white platter contains a bunch of green grapes, sliced cheese, pretzels, and hummus.

“Wow. You didn’t have to do all that, thank you.” I help myself, popping a grape into my mouth.

“It wasn’t any trouble.”

Alexei watches while I eat, helping myself to a little bit of everything.

“This place is amazing. How long have you lived here?” I ask.

He considers my question, still watching me. “I moved to the city about three years ago.”

“For work?”

He nods.

“What do you do?”

“I play for the Chicago Hawks.”

It takes me a moment to process this. I’m not a sports person—not in the slightest. But I realize he’s talking about the pro football team. “What position?”

“Linebacker.”

I guess that explains why he’s so huge. He’s several inches over six feet tall, and at least a couple hundred pounds of solid muscle.

“Ah. It makes sense now.” I pop another pretzel in my mouth, chewing slowly.

“What does?” he asks, lifting one dark brow curiously.

“That comment about getting a blow job whenever you want.”

He shakes his head, his smirk fading. “I shouldn’t have said that to you. It was very out of line for me.”

I shrug. “What? I’m sure it’s true. Women generally line up and drop to their knees for athletes, right? Like they’re some special, secret aphrodisiac.”

“But not you?” he asks, seeming amused by me.

I wrinkle my nose. “Sorry, no. Sports don’t really do it for me. I’m more impressed you knew what a Boppy pillow is for.”

Alexei chuckles, and I like the sound of it immediately. It’s deep and rich, and uninhibited.

When I finish eating and look at Ella again, resting between us, her little eyelids have fallen closed. She’s sound asleep.

“Can I ask whose baby this is?” he asks.

At first, I wondered if he might be skeptical, might think that she’s mine. But given the fact that I have no idea what I’m doing with her, I think he knows I’m telling the truth. “My ex-roommate, Andi. She left her with me a couple of days ago. I’ve been trying to call her nonstop since, but her cell phone is turned off. I have no idea when she’s coming back.”

He nods, looking thoughtful. “Come on. Let’s get you guys to bed.”

I nod and rise to my feet, lifting Ella carefully so as not to wake her. Alexei carries the platter into the kitchen, wraps it in plastic, and sets it inside his refrigerator.

He leads us into a bedroom down the hall. There’s a queen-size bed dressed in a fluffy white down comforter, and a Pack ’n Play set up in the corner.

Oh my God. The man comes complete with a Pack ’n Play. What planet am I living on?

“Thought this bedroom would be best for you. When I babysit my sister’s littlest one, I put her down for a nap in here. Everything’s clean, though. My housekeeper was just here and laundered all the bedding.”

It’s more than I could have hoped for. It’s more than I have for Ella at my place.

“Thank you. This is perfect,” I murmur, tears threatening to spill again.

Alexei is standing so close that I can feel the warmth radiating from his skin. I can feel his eyes on me, piercing me, as I bend over and carefully place Ella inside her bed for the night.

“If you need anything, my door’s at the end of the hall. I’ll keep it open. Just holler, okay?”

I nod, suddenly unable to form words at how sweet and kind this complete stranger has been to me tonight.

Alexei takes one last look at Ella before turning to face me. “Good night.”

I watch the way his muscles bunch and move underneath his fitted long-sleeved T-shirt and jeans.

Everything about the past couple hours has been surreal. Too good to be true. I can’t think about it without my heart clenching and belly tingling with nerves.

Once I turn out the light and climb into bed, I realize how exhausted I am. I worked a double shift today, and all the muscles in my body are limp and tired. I relax into the feather pillows and close my eyes.

Lying alone in this room with the soft sounds of Ella breathing, I realize I have no idea what I’m doing, and no idea what I’ll do tomorrow.

I have a lot to worry about—paying my rent and my heating bill, and taking care of Ella while trying to track down Andi. But right now, in this moment, I feel comforted and content, all thanks to a nice man who cared enough to help tonight.

As I look over toward the Pack ’n Play, though, I know that Ella is warm and fed. And that’s enough to give me pause, because I don’t know if I’ll be able to say the same thing in a couple of days.