“She also told Rachel that the two of you had a... misunderstanding.”
“I understood perfectly. Look, maybe she went to some fancy college, but you couldn’t fill up a teaspoon with her common sense. I don’t need to get involved with someone that flaky.”
Mikhail’s bark of laughter echoed through the gym. “This from a man who once dated Miss Lug Wrench.”
“It was Miss Carburetor.”
“Ah, that’s different.”
A smile twitched, and Alex punched halfheartedly at the bag. Working up a sweat hadn’t relaxed him, but five minutes with Mikhail was doing the job. “Anyway, we’re finished before we got started. And both better off.”
“Undoubtedly you’re right.”
“I know I’m right. We’d always be coming at things from different angles. Hers is cross-eyed. She doesn’t see anything the way she should.”
“A difficult woman.”
“Difficult.” Alex held out his hands so that Mikhail could unlace his gloves. “That doesn’t begin to describe her. She acts so mild and relaxed, you wouldn’t think you could rile her with a cattle prod. Then you point out an obvious mistake, for her own good, and she jumps on you with both feet. Kicks you out of the house.”
Mikhail tucked his tongue in his cheek. “You’re better off without her.”
“You’re telling me.” Alex tossed his gloves aside and flexed his hands. “Who needs unreasonable women?”
“Men.”
“Yeah.” With a sigh, Alex sent his brother a miserable look. “I want her so much I can’t breathe.”
“I know the feeling.” He punched his brother’s sweaty shoulder. “So go get her.”
“Go get her,” Alex repeated.
“Put her in her place.”
A dangerous light, one Mikhail recognized, flickered in Alex’s eyes. “Her place. Right.”
“Hey!” Mikhail called out when his brother strode off. “The showers are that way.”
“I’ll catch one at the station. See you later.”
“Later,” Mikhail agreed. He wandered off to find his son, wondering how soon he would meet this unique, unreasonable woman without common sense.
She sounded perfect for his baby brother.
Bess was never at her best in the morning, and she suspected anyone who was. Her alarm was buzzing when she heard the pounding on her door. She’d been ignoring the first for nearly ten minutes, but the incessant knocking had her dragging herself out of bed.
Bleary-eyed, pulling a skimpy silk robe over an equally skimpy nightshirt, she stumbled to the door. “What the hell?” she demanded. “Is it a fire or what?”
“Or what,” Alex told her when she yanked open the door.
Struggling to focus, she dragged a hand through her hair. The robe drooped off one shoulder. “How’d you get up here?”
“Flashed my badge for the security guard.” After closing the door behind him, he looked his fill. There was a great deal to be said for a sleepy woman in rumpled white silk. “Get you up, McNee?”
“What time is it?” She turned away, following the scent from her coffeemaker, which was set to brew at 7:20 each morning. “What day is it?”
“Thursday.” He followed her weaving progress through the living area and into a big white-and-navy kitchen. There was a huge arrangement of fresh orchids on the center island. Orchids in the kitchen, he thought. Only Bess. “About 7:30.”
“In the morning?” Blindly she groped for a mug. “What are you doing here at 7:30 on a Thursday morning?”
