To Love a Stranger (10 page)

D
ark sky. Angry clouds. Falling—no, losing altitude—losing control. Smoke. He
could
smell smoke. Black smoke.

“Mayday! Mayday!”

His voice, a cry for help was clogged with fear. Twisting and clawing, Russell struggled to fight himself out the nightmare; however, the more he wrestled the further he slipped into the nightmare.

We're going down. Dear God, we're going down.

He tried to scream again, but now he couldn't squeeze air through his lungs. Blood rushed and threatened to burst his eardrums while his body tensed in preparation for the inevitable impact.

Just when he knew the crash would happen his eyes snapped open.

Russell bolted up in bed, his chest heaved as if it struggled to keep his heart from escaping. His eyes darted around the darkroom. He could still smell the black smoke and he even tasted his own fear. After a long while, his brain recognized the guestroom and, more importantly, he remembered how he'd gotten there.

“Jesus,” he groaned, dropping his head into the palms of his hands. Frustrated, he detangled himself from the bed's silk sheets and climbed out. In a strange way, the room's cold hardwood floor comforted him and grounded him back in reality.

A glance at the clock revealed he'd managed to steal a measly two hours of sleep, if one wanted to call tossing and turning sleep. Lately, he spent half his time covering the fact he was a walking zombie. He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep up the charade.

Sighing, Russell crept across the room to the adjoining bathroom and he quickly splashed cold water onto his face. Yet, when he peeked through his fingers at his reflection, he was stunned to see an image of his face in green-and-black paint. He gasped, blinked and his mirrored reflection returned to normal.

For a while, he was too stunned to move, but then his lungs demanded oxygen and he was forced to draw in air. He moved his hands along his face, watching his image do the same.

“I'm going crazy,” he mumbled, and released an awkward laugh. At last, he turned out the light and left the bathroom before more strangers appeared in the mirror. One thing for sure, he wasn't going to be able to get back to sleep so he bypassed the bed and headed for the door.

Russell moved along the hallway of the museum he called a house, feeling like an intruder. Given how his own wife treated him, he might as well be one. He drew a deep breath, troubled by the perpetual stalemate of their marriage.

He didn't want a divorce, but what they had hardly qualified as a marriage. Unfortunately, the demise of their relationship obviously rested on his shoulders. Then again, if she only married him for the money…?

With a firm shake of his head, he tried to stop his thoughts from chasing each other, but it seemed like a habit he couldn't a break. Russell stopped before Ariel's bedroom and quietly opened the door. He didn't venture inside, but drew comfort from just seeing her small body nestled beneath her blanket.

His daughter was an absolute joy and he loved how she looked up to him with such trust and wonder. He couldn't imagine ever letting her down or not being her hero.

Russell closed the door and made his way to Russ's bedroom. He chuckled at the sight of his son curled up with his football. He could just imagine his son dreaming about running down a football field with fans cheering his name.

If there was anything that he loved about being Russell Stone, it was his children.

Closing the door, Russell turned around to face the bedroom at the end of the hallway. Madeline's bedroom. His overactive imagination went work. He could picture his hellcat of a wife in that sexy, silk number she'd had on earlier. Her hair was probably a tussled mess across an army of pillows and if he was lucky, she was dreaming about him.

The last part of that fantasy made him laugh. If anything, she was dreaming about throwing darts at his head. Though it was silly, Russell found himself walking toward the door. When he reached it, he drew several deep breaths before reaching for the doorknob.

He half expected, even hoped to find it locked, but then the knob twisted in his hand and he was in.
I'm just going to sneak a peek.

Russell pushed open the door and entered. He walked what seemed like a mile across the plush carpet to the king-size bed. As predicted, Madeline's long mane of hair was spread across satin pillows. It was a bonus to see she'd kicked most of the covers off her body and her ample curves were on open display for his greedy eyes.

He watched her for a few minutes, not knowing what he'd say if she woke up. He shouldn't, but he sat down on the edge of the bed anyway and pushed back a few strands of hair and studied the details of her face for the bazillionth time in the last few weeks.

She truly was a beautiful, strong woman. In his absence, she'd done a hell of a job with the children and even with the businesses, though his brother would never admit it. And now she was starting something on her own, an admirable feat for anyone.

He leaned down; unable to fight the urge to kiss her and even braced for an attack.

It didn't happen. Instead of fighting him, Madeline moaned in her sleep and actually kissed him back.

Despite the opportunity, he kept his hands at his sides, not daring to caress her inviting curves. To do so would have been a violation and there were already too many problems floating between them.

Somehow he found the strength to break the kiss and stood away from the bed.

“Russell,” she whispered, and then rolled onto her side.

She is thinking about me.
He smiled and backed out of the room. If he was lucky, he might be able to steal another kiss tomorrow night.

For the next two weeks Russell's threat of a divorce danced inside Madeline's head and she didn't breathe a word of it to her mother or her cousin, Lysandra. Strangely enough, Russell carried on as if the conversation never occurred. He continued to laugh and play with the children as if nothing was wrong between them.

Perhaps that was what hurt the most.

Every night she went to bed dreaming about him. Sometimes she woke and would almost swear the taste of him lingered on her lips. Those were the times she'd wake with her body pulsing with a need so strong, it took everything she had not to traipse down the hall to his room and…

Lord, I'm going crazy.

With Christmas just seven days away, the only question for Madeline was whether she wanted a new start with her husband. And if she did, would she be able to handle the evitable heartache?

The mornings when she woke to find him cooking breakfast was alarming since she had never known him to cook a day in his life. But now, French toast and seafood omelets were his specialties.

He didn't make it home by six every night, but when he couldn't, he always made it a point to call or check in. And without fail, he made sure to arrive in time for bedtime stories and to kiss his pumpkin good-night. A couple of nights, he arrived to tuck the children in and then went right back out for some business-related party, or another.

It pained her to admit it, but Madeline grew more jealous of Ariel with each passing day. And Russ now was in full hero worship of his father, begging to spend time with him at the studio or playing hours of video football.

Meanwhile, Madeline spent half her time telling herself that she still hated Russell and the other time convinced that she was falling in love with him.
Now, how crazy was that?

“Maddie, are you even listening to me?”

Lysandra's voice broke through Madeline's deep thoughts and she blinked and glanced around her cluttered office. Hell, she'd forgotten where she was.

“Do you want to tell me what's going on with you?”

A derisive laugh tumbled from Madeline's lips. How could she tell when she didn't even know herself?

“Well?” Lysandra pressed.

A beep over her phone's intercom saved her from answering.

“Mrs. Stone?” her administrative assistant questioned.

“Yes, Kate?”

“Uh…receptionist just buzzed me. Your, uh, husband is on his way up.”

Madeline's gaze flew to Lysandra. “What do you mean, he's on his way up?”

“He's in the elevator, supposedly carrying an armload of roses.”

“Uh…thank you.” Madeline stood, sat and stood again. “Wonder what he's doing here?” she whispered nervously.

“I was just about to ask you the same thing,” Lysandra said. “What's going on with you two? Roses?”

“Nothing,” she admitted, pulling open her desk drawer and grabbing her emergency compact to check her lipstick and smooth down the sides of her hair.

“I wouldn't believe it, if I wasn't seeing all of this with my own two eyes.” Lysandra laughed.

Russell appeared in the outer offices, drawing every eye in the place toward him.

“You know, he's definitely sexier with that goatee he's sporting,” Lysandra commented. “Maybe you should get him to model some of the men's clothes for our first fashion line?”

It actually wasn't a bad idea. Once again, Madeline's stomach looped into knots as she watched her husband stride toward her office. Besides the handsome face, he had wonderful broad shoulders, a lean frame and a confident gait.

Russell knocked on her glass door a second before opening it. “Am I interrupting?”

“Uh, no. Come on in.” She fluttered a smile and gestured to her cousin. “You remember Lysandra?”

“Of course.” He nodded and entered the office with a lazy smile and then gestured to flowers. “I brought you a gift.”

Madeline's eyes finally landed on the roses. “They're beautiful.” She paused, but then finally had to ask. “What's the occasion?”

“No occasion. I figure a beautiful woman should always have beautiful flowers.”

Lysandra smiled behind Russell's back and gave her cousin the thumbs-up.

Madeline tried to suppress a smile but failed miserably as she accepted the roses and inhaled their fragrant scent. “Thank you. They are very beautiful.”

Russell's smile widened. “Can I steal you away for a quick lunch?”

“Lunch?” She blinked and glanced over at Lysandra.

“We can reschedule for another time. You go. I'll make your apologies to Cecelia.”

“Are you sure?” Russell asked. “I don't want to impose.”

“If she won't go with you, I will,” Lysandra said.

“Ly!”

“What?” Lysandra feigned ignorance. “Do you even know the last time I had a lunch date with a member of the opposite sex?”

Russell chuckled. “Then I should be on the lookout for the perfect man for you,” he said. “We have plenty of bachelors coming in and out of our doors over at the label.”

“You'd fix me up on a blind date?” Lysandra asked with what sounded like awe tinged with gratitude.

“Of course,” he said. “After all, we are family.”

“Wow. You really are a changed man.” She turned toward her cousin. “I guess I'll see you after lunch?” Lysandra gave Madeline a look that said that she expected to hear every juicy detail when they returned.

Madeline placed the roses on her desk and then reached for her cane. Russell retrieved her coat by the door and gently helped her into it.

This was the closest she'd been to Russell since their talk in his bedroom a couple of weeks ago and she found herself basking in his scent and once again enjoying the energy pulsing between them. For some reason her eyes settled on his thick lips and she suddenly longed to feel them pressed against hers.

How would he react if she initiated a kiss? Would he laugh or return it? And if he did either, how would she react?

Russell opened the office door for her and now both of them were the center of attention as the walked through the outer offices and down the long hallway. It wasn't until after they had left the building that Madeline thought to make introductions.

“What's wrong? Did you forget something?” Russell asked when she stopped in the middle of the sidewalk.

“Um, no.” She waved her absent mindlessness away and pulled her coat tighter around her body. “It's still snowing out here.” She tilted up her head and enjoyed the cool air blowing against her face. On impulse, she opened her mouth and tasted a few snowflakes.

She opened her eyes to see Russell watching her with open fascination. “What?”

He smiled with a casual shrug. “I like it when you're not always on guard.”

“I'm not,” she said.

“Yes, you are.” He offered her his arm.

She hesitated, feeling that something was changing between them. Even now, it was hard to let the past go. It was even harder for her to admit to herself that she wanted a new beginning with this new Russell.