Seaside Avenue (Cedar Cove #7)(39)

Nodding, he abandoned his chessboard and returned to the bedroom with his wife. He doubted he’d be able to sleep. The moves in his head continued whether he was in front of the board or not.

Once under the sheets, Teri nestled close to his side. “Can we talk for a minute?” she whispered.

“Of course.”

“I think dinner with my sister went well, don’t you?”

He did, but they both knew it wasn’t the meal that had brought Christie back to their home. The real attraction was James Wilbur. He’d been with Bobby for nearly ten years. Although James was employed by Bobby, he was also his friend. A true friend, one of the few. They’d always maintained a professional decorum, but they understood each other. However, when it came to the subject of Christie Levitt, James had remained suspiciously silent.

“Did you see how long it took him to get back to the house after he dropped Christie off last night?” James lived in roomy private quarters above the garage.

Bobby hadn’t noticed. “That’s good, right?”

“I think so.” His wife giggled. “James and my sister.” She sighed expansively as she rested her head on his chest. “He’s certainly not her usual kind of guy.”

“That’s good, too.”

He felt Teri’s nod.

“James told me there’s an important chess match this weekend,” she said after a moment.

Bobby knew all about the match, which was being held in Los Angeles. He’d already made his decision. “I’ve declined.”

“Bobby!”

The organizers were pressuring him to take part, but much as he wanted to play, as much as he needed the challenge, he couldn’t.

“Bobby, there’s got to be a way,” Teri insisted. “I won’t let Vladimir steal your title by threatening me.”

It didn’t matter. Bobby refused to comply with the Russian’s demands. He knew he was the better player, and Vladimir knew it, too. That was the reason he’d gone to such lengths to ensure victory.

Aleksandr Vladimir had given Bobby his instructions: The next match in which they competed, Bobby was to lose. It couldn’t appear deliberate; he had to fall into a trap known as the Black Hole. Once the eleven moves had been played, the game was over. So far, no one had ever escaped that trap but Bobby believed it was possible. He spent day and night reviewing those first eleven moves, looking for a back door, a way to win despite Vladimir’s threat. The solution was there. He was close to finding it, which was why he couldn’t sleep, why he’d spent hour after hour staring at an empty chessboard.

“James said,” Teri continued, “that unless you play in this tournament, you’ll lose your ranking as the top international player.”

At one time, his ranking had been of supreme importance to him. That wasn’t true now.

“I want you to attend the tournament,” Teri said, snuggling up to him. Her fingers stroked his chest. “This is important, Bobby.”

He shook his head, unwilling to let her sway his decision. He had to keep his queen safe. If, during the course of the competition, Bobby was paired against Aleksandr Vladimir, which would almost certainly happen, he wouldn’t have any choice but to throw the game. He wasn’t prepared, hadn’t perfected his escape from the Black Hole.

“Bobby.” She whispered his name in a throaty voice he’d come to recognize.

His answer was to turn his face away from her.

She flattened her hand against his chest, then caught his earlobe between her teeth. Sparks flew down his back and he closed his eyes. “I’ll play Vladimir when I’m ready, Teri. Not yet, but soon.”

He could tell by the way her body tensed that she wasn’t pleased with his answer. He kissed the side of her face and brought her closer. “Soon,” he promised again. When he’d figured out how to beat Vladimir at his own game and protect Teri.

Vladimir would be furious if Bobby didn’t make an appearance at this next match. Still, the idea of thwarting the other man gave him a sense of control, however short-lived or illusory that might be.

Stretching, Teri arched her back and within minutes was sound asleep. Bobby stroked her hair. She was his queen, his love, and she mattered above all else.

Soon after, Bobby drifted off to sleep. When he woke, the sun was bright, and he could hear his wife singing in the shower. Her talents weren’t vocal, yet he enjoyed listening to her.

Waltzing back into the bedroom, still singing, Teri had the towel wrapped around her as she opened their walk-in closet. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.

She stopped when she saw him watching. “You’re awake,” she said. “I suppose my singing’s responsible for that.”

He loved the fact that Teri’s moods rarely fluctuated. Almost always she was happy. Optimistic. And just being with her made him happy, too.

“Would you like a good-morning kiss?” she asked, moving toward the bed.

“Please.” If he was lucky, that kiss would turn into something more. He wasn’t an experienced lover, but he was learning. Teri had instructed him on how to satisfy her, although she’d intuitively known how to please him. The enjoyment he derived from giving her pleasure still surprised him and seemed to increase his own sexual satisfaction a hundredfold.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Teri slipped her arms around his neck and lowered her mouth to his. Even after all these months, her kisses stunned him. He couldn’t think when Teri was in his arms. Bobby’s way of dealing with the world was cerebral, not emotional. Only with Teri did he allow himself to feel.