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Bizarrely, he wanted to tear off his jacket and wrap it around her—which would just ruin his view.
She wasn’t quite what he’d expected up close. She was better, but in a less upfront, more feminine way, and the longer he looked at her the more other things began to leap out besides the obvious. Up close she was younger than he had imagined—closer to twenty than thirty. It was all that make-up. She didn’t need it. Her skin was luscious, like a ripe peach.
She swore creatively, pushing the fringe off her forehead. ‘What am I going to do?’ she said fiercely.
He had the answer to that, but he would wait for her to suggest it.
Hands still firmly on her hips, she walked a few steps in the other direction, then turned and met his eyes properly for the first time. Some of the agitation had left her, and she turned up a face more interesting than conventionally attractive. She had thick brown eyelashes and clear grey eyes and a dappling of freckles across her nose.
She really was lovely.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said earnestly. ‘I’ve been very rude to you. Thanks for scaring them off. You didn’t have to, but it was a nice thing to do.’
He hadn’t expected that—or her sincerity. He shrugged it off. He didn’t need to get sentimental about picking up a girl in downtown St Petersburg. He only had to drop his gaze ever so slightly to remind himself she wasn’t a shrinking violet.
‘Don’t men look after women where you come from, kisa?’
‘I imagine they do.’ She gave an awkward shrug, then another one of those little smiles of hers. ‘Just not me. But thanks again.’
With that she took off, the slender heels on those boots clicking on the cobbles. She held out her arms stiffly from her body, as if balancing herself, a gesture that reminded him she had experienced a nasty shock.
He couldn’t believe she was walking away.
Damn. ‘Hold up.’
She looked over her shoulder.
‘Can I give you a lift somewhere?’
She hesitated, looked at him with those doe eyes, and said, ‘No, I don’t think so. But thanks, Slugger,’ and damn well kept walking.
Click, click, click.
CHAPTER TWO
GODDAMN. Unbelievable…
Clementine hobbled over a puddle, heading towards the light at the end of the underpass, cursing under her breath. She tried to focus on the practicalities. She would have to find the embassy. She would have to borrow money from her friend Luke. She would have to phone her bank in London. She would do it all once she’d had a little sit-down and a cry.
Her handbag was her lifeline.
It was her own fault. She was usually much more street smart than this. She’d been so wrapped up in her little fantasy with the Cossack she hadn’t been paying attention. She’d ruined that too. She’d been too shaken, too tongue-tied to do anything more than try to block him out whilst she extricated herself from the situation even after he’d rushed in to save her.
Her chest gave a little flutter at that thought. He’d been magnificent. He’d just handled it. You didn’t run into guys like that in London.
The light hit her face and, pulling awkwardly at her skirt, she ascended the steps. She was chilled despite the sun, and that was her own fault too. She should have changed out of this ridiculous outfit Verado liked her to wear, back into her street clothes. But there hadn’t been time, and she’d left the bag of clothes at the store, and now she was wandering the streets of St Petersburg in great boots but frankly looking a little too uncovered for her own liking.
Emerging into the street, she hobbled over to a nearby kiosk and took a seat. She was really shivering now, and it didn’t have much to do with her lack of layers. She supposed it was delayed shock, but she also felt naked without her bag—vulnerable. She was used to depending on herself and that bag had everything she needed to keep herself safe. She was beginning to wish she hadn’t sent the Cossack away.
It was useless going back to her lodgings. She needed to head back into the city centre, find Luke.
That was when she saw the limo. It was idling across the road, one of its doors angled wide, and then she saw him, striding straight towards her. He’d removed his jacket and had his hands shoved into his pockets, so that the fabric of his superfine blue shirt pulled taut across a muscular chest and abdomen. Clementine’s miserable thoughts dwindled to a virtual halt. He looked powerful and it wasn’t just his size. It was the way he held himself, with tremendous confidence and that measured response to what was going on around him she had seen in action in the underpass.
But what he was giving her now was full sensual male interest. Clementine told herself she could handle men, but all her female instincts were telling her she couldn’t handle this man at all.
He was so male as to be of another species.
Big shoulders, big arms, hard thighs—long and lean and coming straight at her.
He’d crunched bones for her, broken skin, shed blood.
‘Come on, get in. I’ll take you wherever you want to go.’ He spoke abruptly, his voice deep and deliberate.
She just sat there, looking up, trying to clamber over the overwhelmed feeling to something more considered.
He lifted those big hands of his. ‘I’m a good guy. I don’t wish you any harm. You need some help, yes?’
‘Yes,’ Clementine said softly, distracted by the intensity of his green eyes.
‘Are you staying far from here?’
Clementine knew she should tell him nothing and refuse the ride. But he had helped her. He had put himself at risk for a stranger. This was a good guy. This was a very, very sexy man. This would buy her a little more time with him. And she was so tired of looking after herself. It wouldn’t hurt to accept a lift.
‘Do you know where the Australian embassy is?’
‘I’ll find it.’
And she believed he would.
Serge gave directions to his driver, watched as those long legs folded themselves into his car, slid in alongside her, observed her scoot over to put a respectable distance between them. Then she shifted forward and leant down.
She was unzipping the boots.
The shell of each boot collapsed and she tugged one stockinged foot out, then the other, revealing her long legs in those sheer pale stockings that gleamed like silk. Her activity seemed unselfconscious, as if he couldn’t possibly be interested, but of course she had to know what she was doing. She wriggled her toes and cocked a curious look at him up through her lashes.
‘Sorry, honey,’ she said. ‘They’re new, and they’re rubbing.’
She pressed her knees primly together and folded her hands in her lap, utterly ladylike.
She was incredible.
‘You’re Australian? From Sydney?’ His own voice sounded hoarse, and he gave an inward laugh at his susceptibility to this woman.
‘Melbourne.’ She smiled, her eyes not quite meeting his. It was such a subtle smile. She kept her lips pursed, as if she was keeping a secret.
If only she’d stop rubbing her knees together. The shub-shub of the fabric was highly stimulating to his imagination.
‘So far away. What are you doing in Petersburg? Business or pleasure?’
‘Both. I’m here working.’ She gave a little shrug as if it wasn’t important. Those lips parted into a more open smile. ‘But I’ve dreamed of seeing St Petersburg. It’s so romantic, so full of history.’
‘You like what you’ve seen so far?’
‘Very much.’ She gave him a sidelong look, making it clear she wasn’t talking about the city—and didn’t that just notch up the temperature in the car? She turned her head away, made a show of looking out of the window, exposing the length of her lovely pale throat, and he dwelt on the golden tendrils of silky hair tickling against her neck.
He decided to cut to the chase. ‘When do you leave?’
She met his gaze, let him see those grey eyes, darker now than when he had first seen them. ‘My contract winds up tomorrow.’
Two days. Perfect. ‘Such a shame,’ he mused.
‘What do you do?’ she ventured. ‘I mean, you must do something—you’re riding around in a limo.’ She laughed nervously. ‘You’re either rich or something else.’
He laughed low, and watched the pulse in her throat give a little throb. ‘Or something else,’ he murmured, which clearly intrigued her.
‘You’re not one of those overnight millionaires you read about, are you, honey?’
‘Nyet, sorry to disappoint you. I worked very hard for my first million.’
‘Right.’ Those slender hands fluttered in her lap. She was obviously attracted to him, but the money helped. His inner cynic gave a rueful shrug.
‘This would be the moment to ask you, if you’re not otherwise engaged, to join me for dinner tonight.’
He actually saw her swallow. She moistened her lower lip, dragging his attention to the contours of her mouth. She looked at him through her lashes. ‘You work fast. I’ll give you that.’
‘You haven’t given me much time.’
‘Oh, I can’t imagine that stopping you.’
‘Nothing much does, kisa.’
She gave a negligent little shrug, a naughty sparkle in her grey eyes. ‘Okay, Slugger, we’ll see how you do.’
A challenge—and didn’t he just relish that?
Lifting his head above the pleasure horizon, he made a quick judgement call. This girl clearly liked to play games, however guarded she was being now. It was reasonable to wonder how many other men she’d played them with.
He hesitated.
Did it matter?
This was his favourite type of female. A woman with a sparkle in her eyes and a willingness to just enjoy herself. No ties, no drama. No happy-ever-afters.
This girl was clearly that woman.
Libido humming nicely, he gave her body a comprehensive, less polite once-over. In response she surprised him. Her hands knotted up in her lap and her shoulders tensed. That little Mona Lisa smile flickered and vanished. She turned the lights down low on her eyes with those thick lashes.
Chastened, he put a clamp on his imagination.
It was a reminder that he needed to be kind and considerate and gentlemanly—as he would be with any other woman.
And look after her until she waved goodbye in a few days’ time.
She was going on a date with the Cossack.
Clementine’s imagination was beginning to gallop, but before it did perhaps she should take the opportunity to clear a few things up. But what was she going to say? I don’t make a practice of putting on sex shows for strange men? I’ve agreed to dinner but that’s it. I’m a nice girl.
But he had asked her to dinner, hadn’t he?
And he’d rescued her.
That was huge. She was still feeling a little breathless over that.
And, honestly, how nice a girl was she?
He really should be rewarded.
A little smile formed on her lips.
She needed to think this through. She’d seen the way he’d looked her over, as if making a sexual inventory of the bits he’d like. She knew which way this road led and she didn’t want to walk it again. Not even for a Cossack whose incredible green eyes made her tremble behind the knees and her nipples perk up.
He had one arm spread along the top of the seat, so that his hand hung just inches from her shoulder. He had positioned himself so he was angled towards her, long muscular legs stretched out. Without his jacket she could see the hard width of his shoulders and the taut flat belly delineated by the fitted dark blue shirt, crisp on his large frame. He really was mouthwateringly delicious.
For crying out loud—she had to stop this now! She didn’t even know his name, or he hers. She could remedy that, at least.
‘I’m Clementine Chevalier, by the way,’ she said, sticking out her hand in a forthright fashion.
‘Clementine.’ His accent did wonderful things to her name. He took her hand and lifted it to his lips, and she felt the tingle all through her girly bits as he turned her endeavour to keep their interaction on a guy-to-guy basis into an old-fashioned gesture. The sort of gesture that got her just where her inner princess lived.
‘I am Serge—Serge Marinov.’ Serj, she pronounced silently, practised it a couple of times. It was far too sexy. She was such a goner.
Expectation shimmered in the air. The car had glided to a halt. Clementine registered belatedly that they were no longer moving and hit ground level as real life intruded again. She reached for her boots.
‘Thanks for the lift.’ She sounded breathless even to her own ears. ‘Should I give you my address or shall I meet you somewhere …?’ She trailed off.
‘I will collect you,’ he said, as if this was the only logical response, ‘and I think you should let me handle the embassy.’
Okay. She wasn’t going to argue over that. ‘You really want this date,’ she observed as he opened her door, helped her out.
He gave her an inscrutable smile. ‘How am I doing?’
‘How do you think?’ She threw a feminine sway into her hips and preceded him into the building, enjoying herself far too much.
People were looking at them.
Probably wondering what a girl like her was doing with a guy like him.
She was wondering the same thing.
