The Last Kolovsky Playboy by Carol Marinelli

night they had shared.
    Refusing to check her phone to see if he’d texted her, she padded out to the mail box and collected the newspaper, then headed into the kitchen.
    ‘I’ve been thinking…’
    ‘Ah!’ she gasped, and almost dropped the newspaper.
    It hadn’t even occurred to Kate that he might still be here! Always he was gone by dawn, and the dark hours prior were conveniently forgotten by Monday. Yet here he was, in the morning sun, in her kitchen, pouring scalding water into two mugs!
    ‘Where are the coffee beans?’ he asked.
    ‘In Kenya,’ Kate said, opening a jar of instant and trying not to let him see how rattled his presence made her feel. The sight of him in her dingy kitchen brought her no comfort; she didn’t actually want her two worlds colliding. Last night had been fantasy, escape—it suited her that they didn’t speak about it, didn’t acknowledge it, that their private moments weren’t analysed in the cold light of day.
    But here he was.
    He had on only the bottom half of his suit. Despite arduous work-outs to regain his strength he had lost weight, and the pants sat a touch lower on his hips. Usually that would have been sorted. He had an army of designers at his disposal, after all, and Aleksi Kolovsky would have utilised them.
    It was the tiniest detail, yet she noticed it.
    Liked it, even.
    Liked the extra glimpse of toned flat stomach and the glimpse of dark hair that led to where she had kissed him last night.
    No, she did not like her dreams invading reality like this!
    Didn’t like facing him in her tatty dressing gown with her morning hair, and was painfully aware of her shabby kitchen, and that he was no doubt regretting coming to her door.
    Again.
    ‘I thought you’d be gone,’ she commented.
    Aleksi had thought he would be gone by now too.
    Always he rose early, but since the accident it had been ridiculous. His eyes snapped open long before dawn and he listened to the world wake up as he lay there, racked with exhaustion but unable to rest. Except this morning. For the first time since the accident, for the first time since way before then, even, the sun had beaten him in rising.
    Refreshed, even relaxed, he had left Kate sleeping, his intention to call a cab. Yet he had been reluctant to leave, reluctant to face what needed to be faced, and, attempting to locate coffee, had seen the neat stack of bills by the microwave, recalled the ‘For Sale’ sign outside the house and his solution had been found.
    Aleksi didn’t slowly form ideas, but neither did he mull. His mind was too rapid for rumination; he scanned details most legal eyes would take hours to ponder. He cut straight to the chase. ‘Move in with me.’
    Kate rolled her eyes.
    ‘You have to find somewhere to live. I have a huge home you could stay in for a couple of months…’ His idea stalled as the scruffiest dog he had ever seen strolled past and Kate let him out to the back yard. ‘You’re not saying anything.’
    ‘Because it doesn’t warrant a response,’ Kate said dryly, and got on with making a much needed cup of coffee.
    ‘You, Georgie…’ he hesitated, but only for a second ‘…the dog…’
    ‘Bruce.’
    ‘I’m going to London in a few days, to meet with Belenki,’ Aleksi said. ‘We need to do some straighttalking. So I’ll be away and you and Georgie will have the place to yourself for a while—I’d hardly be there…’ Still she didn’t respond. ‘It could help us both out.’
    ‘Ah, now we’re getting somewhere.’ Kate handed him a mug. ‘How, precisely, would a single mother and her entourage living in your home help you, Aleksi?’
    ‘It would show responsibility. It would prove to the board…’ He hesitated. ‘I thought about what you said—maybe I do need a change of attitude to win the board over. Let them see that I am settling down, that I am serious about the business of Kolovsky.’
    ‘Settling down?’ she repeated flatly.
    ‘We could say you were my