The glorious aroma of the Coney dogs and fries on the table transitioned my brain from one sensory stupor to another. I’d have to keep up my workouts if I was going to eat more Coney dogs during winter break. Soccer had given me the freedom to eat whatever I wanted.

Our waitress was attractive. Smooth olive skin, pink lips, big brown eyes, and a long, brown ponytail. I lifted my eyes, positive that Aleksandr’s sexy smile would be on full display. It wasn’t.

“Can I get you anything else?” she asked.

“Nyet,” he answered, his eyes planted on me.

“No, thanks.” I pulled my plate closer, grabbing the ketchup. “That’s a hard-core schedule,” I said, revisiting our conversation before the waitress’s interruption.

“Very,” he agreed.

“Do you have any family here?”

“No, everybody’s back in Russia. Aunts and uncles, cousins. Some of the older guys here let me hang with their families if I’m feeling homesick.”

“If you ever want to hang out with an old Russian guy, come on over to my house.” I just invited him to my house. Where the hell had that sudden hospitality come from?

“First I smell like your grandmother, now you want to set me up with your grandfather. You flatter me.” Aleksandr put a hand to his heart, then glanced down at his watch and flinched as if he’d just remembered time existed. “Shit, I need to hurry.”

“It’s always time to go when girls start trying to set you up with their grandfathers.” I grinned. Banter was so easy with him. Too bad he was a client. And a jerk.

We finished our lunches in record time, which was fine with me, because once you start eating a Coney, you have to finish fast. Cold chili dogs don’t taste good.

Aleksandr snatched the bill off the table and stood. I slid out of the booth and grabbed my bag, surprised at my reluctance to leave.

When I opened my purse to get money to pay for my meal, Aleksandr clasped his hand over mine. I pulled my hand away so fast, you’d think he’d slapped me. Instead of reacting, he dropped a five on the table then walked to the cash register. He grabbed two red-and-white mints from the bowl on the counter, handing me one and untwisting the wrapper on the other before popping it into his mouth.

We stepped outside, and I pretzeled my arms across my chest, bracing myself from the brisk air whipping around us. I jumped when Aleksandr swept his arm across my back, cradling me to his side as we hurried to my car. It was totally inappropriate, but I appreciated the extra warmth so I kept my mouth closed.

We scrambled into my car to escape the chill. I handed my keys to Aleksandr, because I’d never be able to get out of the parking spot he’d chosen. He paused before he turned the key. The hesitation was so slight that I can’t explain why I noticed. When the engine purred to life, he switched on the heat. Then he sat, not moving for a moment, letting the rush of frigid air blast his face.

At first I thought he might be waiting for the air to warm up. When he was still sitting there a few minutes later, I thought he was contemplating how to get out of the parking space. That thought made me laugh. Out loud.

“What?” he asked.

“Can’t get out of this spot, can you?”

“You think I’m waiting because I can’t move the car?” he asked, amusement sparkling in his eyes.

I shrugged. “Why else would you be waiting?”

Aleksandr leaned in, placed a hand on each of my cheeks, and pulled my mouth toward his.

What the…

“Dude, get off!” I pushed him back, avoiding the lip collision. “I’m not one of your bunnies.”

Standing my ground was important, even though his voice alone made me want to lift my skirt and straddle him. But that was not an option. If I’d have touched the Mohawk, I’d have been done for.

“You aren’t a bunny. I don’t buy bunnies lunch.” He smirked. “Breakfast maybe.”

I’m not a violent person, but I felt an overwhelming urge to smack that smirk off his face. “That’s the other reason nothing’s going to happen. You’re an ass.”

“I’m joking, Auden.”

“Yeah, right. I’m on to you, Varenkov.”

“I wish,” he mumbled as he checked the mirrors for traffic, flicked on the turn signal, and pulled onto the road.

“Where do you live?” I asked, ignoring the comment. I’d be smart to ignore his comments for the rest of this assignment.

“Landon and I share a condo in the Westin Book Cadillac.”

“Excuse me?” My chest tightened.

“The Westin Book Cadillac.”

“You live downtown—where we just came from—in the building around the corner from the best Coney Island in the city, yet I drove us all the way up here for lunch?”

“I go to Lafayette most of the time, but I knew it would be busy now. This National is the next best place.” He shrugged as if he didn’t notice the smoke coming out of my ears.

Though I was seething, he had a point. A very good point.

I took a deep breath and let it out audibly. I refused to think about the fact that, despite his time crunch, he lengthened the time we spent together on purpose. I needed to keep the flare of anger toward him. Otherwise I might soften, and fall for his atypical hair, Adonis body, and adorable personality. “Fine.”

We drove in silence, which allowed me to calm down about that issue while getting worked up about another as I gazed out the window.

Detroit had been deteriorating since before I was born, it was all I had ever known, and I had never noticed it through a visitor’s eye. As a proud local, heart wrenching were the only words I could think of to describe the ride down Mack Avenue to downtown. Despite driving for miles, the view barely changed. Businesses that had once thrived were razed to piles of rubble. The few churches or liquor stores still standing had large areas of paint chipping off the sides, or they had been sprayed with gang graffiti. The buildings that weren’t completely gone were boarded up, hollowed-out shells of their former glory. Stolen doors and windows allowed an unobstructed view of the inside, where oftentimes remains lay singed from burned-out fires.

Maybe that was a candid description of the city itself: a once-blazing fire that had long ago burned out. I hoped to see the day that the majority of the city was revitalized, not just certain downtown areas. But change has to start somewhere, and I appreciated the people using their own funds to revive my home.

“Are you with the hippie guy from the bar?” Aleksandr asked, breaking the silence and my train of thought.

“Um, no.” I tore my eyes away from the unmanaged weeds growing up from the jagged sidewalks that went on for miles.

“You and your friends sat at that table right up front near him.” His eyes found mine as if gauging my reaction. “Why did you talk to him so long?”

“He wants me to sing in his band.” A laugh escaped as I studied my French-manicured fingernails. “Which is ridiculous.”

“You have a great voice. You should do it.”

I ignored his compliment and unsolicited advice. “I’m not seeing anyone right now. Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Just checking out the competition.”

“You have no competition because you aren’t in the running. We have to work together. We can’t be involved. Simple as that.”

It was true, but it wasn’t my only reason for rejecting him.

“Nothing is ever simple, Auden.”

Judging by the I-just-scored gleam in Aleksandr’s eyes, he thought he’d won the argument. Part of me expected to see the familiar flashes of red across his face from the light behind the goal at Robinson Arena that blinks and spins after someone scores in a hockey game.

Aleksandr didn’t realize who he was hitting on, because no matter how attracted we were to each other, I’d never give him a chance. An entirely different flashing red light ran through my mind when I looked at him. The kind that’s accompanied by a deafening buzz alerting people to evacuate in an emergency. And the way my stomach bubbled with excitement every time I was around him was reason enough for my emotions to make an emergency evacuation. Having been abandoned by both parents before age seven, the last person I needed to get involved with was a professional athlete whose job required him to leave.