Convincing Alex by Nora Roberts Page A

ten-month-old nephew, Griff, were standing hand in hand, grinning identical grins.
    â€œGot your papa out early, did you, tough guy?” Alex swung Griff up for a smacking kiss.
    Griff babbled out happily. The only word Alex could decipher in the odd foreign language of a toddler was Mama.
    â€œSydney’s tired,” Mikhail explained. “She has some wheeling and dealing keeping her up at night. This one’s an early riser.” He ruffled his son’s hair. “So I thought we’d come down and lift weights. Right?”
    Griff grinned and cocked his elbows. “Papa.”
    â€œYour muscle’s bigger,” Alex assured him.
    â€œHey, it’s the Griff-man!” Rocky, the former lightweight who ran the gym, gave a whistle and held out his wiry arms. “Come see me, champ.”
    With a squeal of pleasure, Griff wiggled out of Alex’s arms to toddle off on his almost steady legs. “Better watch out, Rock,” Mikhail called out. “He’s slippery.”
    â€œI can handle him.” With the confidence of a four-time grandfather, he hefted Griff. “We got things to do,” he told Mikhail. “Why don’t you talk to your brother there and find out why this is the third time this week he’s come in to pound on my equipment?”
    â€œNosy,” Alex muttered. “He’s worse than an old woman.”
    Mikhail tilted a brow when Alex went back to pounding the bag. “Speaking of women…”
    â€œWe weren’t.”
    â€œWhy do men come to such places as this unless it’s to talk of women?” The music of the Ukraine flavored Mikhail’s voice. Alex wondered if his brother knew how much he sounded like their father.
    â€œTo hit things,” he retorted. “To talk dirty and to sweat.”
    â€œThat, too. So, it is a woman, yes?”
    â€œIt’s always a damn woman,” Alex said between gritted teeth.
    â€œThis one’s named Bess.”
    Alex’s punch stopped in midswing. Turning, he used his forearm to swipe his brow. “How do you know about Bess?”
    â€œRachel tells me.” Pleased, Mikhail grinned. “She also tells me that this Bess is not beautiful so much as unique, and that she’s smart. This isn’t your usual type, Alexi.”
    â€œShe’s nobody’s type.” Alex turned back to the bag, feinted with his right, then jabbed with his left. “Unique,” he said with a snort. “That’s her, all right. Her face. It was like God was distracted that day and mixed up the features for five different women. Her eyes are too big, her chin’s pointed, her nose is crooked.” His gloved fist plowed into the bag. “And she has skin like an angel. I touch it and my mouth waters.”
    â€œMmm… I’ll have to get a look at this one.”
    â€œI’ve sworn off,” Alex told him between grunts. “I don’t need the aggravation. She doesn’t have all her circuits working at the same time. Maybe Rachel thinks she’s smart because she went to college.”
    â€œRadcliffe,” Mikhail supplied. “She had lunch with Rachel, and Rachel asked.”
    â€œRadcliffe?” Letting out a breath, Alex leaned against the bag. “It figures.”
    â€œShe also told Rachel that the two of you had a…misunderstanding.”
    â€œI understood perfectly. Look, maybe she went to some fancy college, but you couldn’t fill up a teaspoon with her common sense. I don’t need to get involved with someone that flaky.”
    Mikhail’s bark of laughter echoed through the gym. “This from a man who once dated Miss Lug Wrench.”
    â€œIt was Miss Carburetor.”
    â€œAh, that’s different.”
    A smile twitched, and Alex punched halfheartedly at the bag. Working up a sweat hadn’t relaxed him, but five minutes with Mikhail was doing the job. “Anyway, we’re finished