Read Online My Only One by Lindsay McKenna - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lindsay McKenna
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be something if Abby Fielding was a deep-cover Russian spy?”
Chuckling, Monica shook her head. “Oh, if only that turned out to be true. Then I could discredit her and deflate this whole whale issue.”
“Right now, she’s looking like the good guy and the administration is the bad guy. All we can do is hope Fielding slips up and makes a fool of herself in some way.”
Monica finished the statement with a flourish and handed it to her secretary to type up. “If she does, I’m going to be like a killer whale—just waiting to slit open her underbelly.”
Chapter Four
“W E’RE HOME ,” Abby announced wearily, stepping inside her Anchorage apartment. Alec followed her and halted in the middle of the living room to look around. Outside the door were two Coast Guard sentries, who would remain on twenty-four-hour duty until Alec’s visit to the U.S. was at an end.
Glancing at her watch, Abby saw it was nearly 10:00 p.m. She quietly shut the pine door and watched Alec’s inspection and his reactions. Realizing she’d never dreamed of seeing a Soviet in uniform in her home, the discovery left her shaken. Alec was a Russian who was, indeed, a friend, not an enemy.
“Well, what do you think?” she asked, walking past him into the kitchen.
Taking off his cap, Alec placed it beneath his left arm and moved around the living room. “It’s spacious.” He knew there was awe in his voice. “Very rich by Soviet standards. Someone who had power in the Kremlin or Politburo would have this kind of apartment.”
Abby laughed and opened the fridge to retrieve a chilled bottle of wine. “Me, rich? Hardly. Marine biologists aren’t rich. With my salary, some free-lance writing and an occasional consulting fee, I make about twenty-seven thousand dollars a year. Here in the U.S. that’s considered middle-class income, believe me.” She brought two glasses down from the cupboard and glanced across the kitchen, which was separated from the living room by a breakfast bar.
The living room spoke of someone who respected the Earth, Alec thought. He leaned over to touch the cinnamon-colored velour sofa, and found the texture delightful. Potted plants hung from the ceiling and stood in huge ceramic pots. The hardwood floor was a gold-and-reddish-colored cedar, graced with a large hand-woven Navaho rug at its center. The coffee table was fashioned from pine, and a hand-carved mahogany whale was the centerpiece. The overstuffed chairs were a tan and a brick color respectively. The room gave off a sense of earthy warmth.
When Abby handed him a fluted glass of rose-colored wine, Alec smiled. “Thank you,” he murmured.
“Sit down,” Abby urged. “Take off your jacket, loosen your tie and kick off your shoes. You’ve got to be dead on your feet.” She sat in one of the overstuffed chairs, dangling her long legs over one arm, and kicked off her sensible brown shoes.
Grinning, Alec took a sip of the wine and watched Abby. She was tired, as evidenced by the shadows beneath her glorious blue eyes. But she looked utterly wanton with her hair released from the pins that had held it captive all day.
She smiled at him. He looked so stiff and formal. “Come on! Relax, Alec. There’s no camera around to take your photo now.”
She was right. He put down the flute and tried to get comfortable. “I want you to know, this is the first time I’ve done this.”
“What?” The wine, a blush variety from California, tasted heavenly to Abby after the long, grueling day. It had been a day filled with victories, though, not defeats. She felt high on adrenaline from all the media attention, not for herself, but for her whales and dolphins. They’d finally got the attention they deserved.
Alec shrugged out of his uniform jacket and laid it across the back of the couch. Off came his tie, and he opened the button of his shirt at his throat. “Getting out of uniform like this is against regulations. I either wear it or don’t wear it.
Chuckling, Monica shook her head. “Oh, if only that turned out to be true. Then I could discredit her and deflate this whole whale issue.”
“Right now, she’s looking like the good guy and the administration is the bad guy. All we can do is hope Fielding slips up and makes a fool of herself in some way.”
Monica finished the statement with a flourish and handed it to her secretary to type up. “If she does, I’m going to be like a killer whale—just waiting to slit open her underbelly.”
Chapter Four
“W E’RE HOME ,” Abby announced wearily, stepping inside her Anchorage apartment. Alec followed her and halted in the middle of the living room to look around. Outside the door were two Coast Guard sentries, who would remain on twenty-four-hour duty until Alec’s visit to the U.S. was at an end.
Glancing at her watch, Abby saw it was nearly 10:00 p.m. She quietly shut the pine door and watched Alec’s inspection and his reactions. Realizing she’d never dreamed of seeing a Soviet in uniform in her home, the discovery left her shaken. Alec was a Russian who was, indeed, a friend, not an enemy.
“Well, what do you think?” she asked, walking past him into the kitchen.
Taking off his cap, Alec placed it beneath his left arm and moved around the living room. “It’s spacious.” He knew there was awe in his voice. “Very rich by Soviet standards. Someone who had power in the Kremlin or Politburo would have this kind of apartment.”
Abby laughed and opened the fridge to retrieve a chilled bottle of wine. “Me, rich? Hardly. Marine biologists aren’t rich. With my salary, some free-lance writing and an occasional consulting fee, I make about twenty-seven thousand dollars a year. Here in the U.S. that’s considered middle-class income, believe me.” She brought two glasses down from the cupboard and glanced across the kitchen, which was separated from the living room by a breakfast bar.
The living room spoke of someone who respected the Earth, Alec thought. He leaned over to touch the cinnamon-colored velour sofa, and found the texture delightful. Potted plants hung from the ceiling and stood in huge ceramic pots. The hardwood floor was a gold-and-reddish-colored cedar, graced with a large hand-woven Navaho rug at its center. The coffee table was fashioned from pine, and a hand-carved mahogany whale was the centerpiece. The overstuffed chairs were a tan and a brick color respectively. The room gave off a sense of earthy warmth.
When Abby handed him a fluted glass of rose-colored wine, Alec smiled. “Thank you,” he murmured.
“Sit down,” Abby urged. “Take off your jacket, loosen your tie and kick off your shoes. You’ve got to be dead on your feet.” She sat in one of the overstuffed chairs, dangling her long legs over one arm, and kicked off her sensible brown shoes.
Grinning, Alec took a sip of the wine and watched Abby. She was tired, as evidenced by the shadows beneath her glorious blue eyes. But she looked utterly wanton with her hair released from the pins that had held it captive all day.
She smiled at him. He looked so stiff and formal. “Come on! Relax, Alec. There’s no camera around to take your photo now.”
She was right. He put down the flute and tried to get comfortable. “I want you to know, this is the first time I’ve done this.”
“What?” The wine, a blush variety from California, tasted heavenly to Abby after the long, grueling day. It had been a day filled with victories, though, not defeats. She felt high on adrenaline from all the media attention, not for herself, but for her whales and dolphins. They’d finally got the attention they deserved.
Alec shrugged out of his uniform jacket and laid it across the back of the couch. Off came his tie, and he opened the button of his shirt at his throat. “Getting out of uniform like this is against regulations. I either wear it or don’t wear it.
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