here?” she whispered.
Though she had to admit his arguments made a certain degree of sense. Russian ops usually were quite a bit more subtle. They were experts at the art of deception. Besides, Victor Kostenko didn’t strike her as the kind of guy who’d perform sexually on demand, for the Motherland or anyone else.
“If you require a justification you can cable back to Washington, tell them tonight was about dialogue.” His warm breath on her neck receded as he straightened. “Opening a back channel for communication between our countries, yes? If we…enjoy one another’s company in the process, this is not a crime.”
Tell that to her boss, who’d just been booted out. Or to his, who’d just been fired.
Sure and strong, his hands closed over her shoulders. “The performance is ending, Alexis. I’m going to take you someplace else now.”
“You know we can’t do that,” she said sharply, alarm flashing through her. “Besides, there’s really no point to prolonging this appointment. I believe we’ve each accomplished our meeting objectives.”
“Speak for yourself,” he murmured, accent thickening.
“In fact, we shouldn’t even be here—”
“Sshhh.” He sounded amused, damn the man, as he chided her for making noise in the theater.
“Captain,” she said firmly. “I have a cable to write.”
“Tsk, tsk. I really should be offended, Counselor. Evidently, you’d prefer an evening at your desk composing a reporting cable to another hour in my company, despite all my efforts to impress you.” He squeezed her shoulders, as if that would settle her right down. “Wait here.”
He wouldn’t wait for her assent—knew she wouldn’t accede to this clandestine ‘dialogue’ he claimed to want. He was breaking every rule in the book, though she could tell herself she’d been swept along by the moment, that he’d given her no choice. But that would be a cop-out, wouldn’t it? He couldn’t seize control if she refused to cede it. Yet she hated the thought of running from a challenge, giving him the satisfaction of knowing he’d rattled her.
Or was something else going on in her devious brain? She’d have to be pretty naïve not to acknowledge, at least to herself, the way her body reacted when he touched her. She was a healthy, thirty-two year old woman who’d been celibate a bit too long, but her sex drive had picked a pretty inconvenient moment to reassert itself.
While Kostenko retrieved her coat, Alexis recited in her mind the top ten list of reasons why she wouldn’t be going anywhere with him. Anyhow, if seduction was his strategy, where could he possibly take her?
To his place, wherever that was, past the security cameras and the all-knowing eyes of his concierge? To some thousand-bucks-a-night, Russian Mafia-run hotel where the staff knew him by name, where he’d taken countless other girls who were as intrigued by him as—admittedly—she was?
Or even worse, a guaranteed disaster, did he expect her to initiate the protracted administrative procedure necessary to clear him into the Embassy compound, where her townhouse was? God, her shiny Foreign Service career would be in shreds by sunrise if she tried that.
Given her rank and his, it would make the Washington Post , front page above the fold on a slow news day. She could already see the headlines: U.S. Embassy Official Compromised in Liaison with Senior Russian Officer. And then, in smaller print: Involvement of Moscow Intelligence Organs Suspected.
Subtle or not, he had to be planning to use sex to compromise her, making her ripe for blackmail by the Russian security services.
The rational part of her brain was still scrolling through a list of cautions when Kostenko slipped up behind her. She jumped up, alarmed by the way her body yearned toward him, every pleasure point thrumming with a symphony of desire.
Shit . She needed to get away from this guy, whether it dented her pride or not. Snatching her coat, she
Though she had to admit his arguments made a certain degree of sense. Russian ops usually were quite a bit more subtle. They were experts at the art of deception. Besides, Victor Kostenko didn’t strike her as the kind of guy who’d perform sexually on demand, for the Motherland or anyone else.
“If you require a justification you can cable back to Washington, tell them tonight was about dialogue.” His warm breath on her neck receded as he straightened. “Opening a back channel for communication between our countries, yes? If we…enjoy one another’s company in the process, this is not a crime.”
Tell that to her boss, who’d just been booted out. Or to his, who’d just been fired.
Sure and strong, his hands closed over her shoulders. “The performance is ending, Alexis. I’m going to take you someplace else now.”
“You know we can’t do that,” she said sharply, alarm flashing through her. “Besides, there’s really no point to prolonging this appointment. I believe we’ve each accomplished our meeting objectives.”
“Speak for yourself,” he murmured, accent thickening.
“In fact, we shouldn’t even be here—”
“Sshhh.” He sounded amused, damn the man, as he chided her for making noise in the theater.
“Captain,” she said firmly. “I have a cable to write.”
“Tsk, tsk. I really should be offended, Counselor. Evidently, you’d prefer an evening at your desk composing a reporting cable to another hour in my company, despite all my efforts to impress you.” He squeezed her shoulders, as if that would settle her right down. “Wait here.”
He wouldn’t wait for her assent—knew she wouldn’t accede to this clandestine ‘dialogue’ he claimed to want. He was breaking every rule in the book, though she could tell herself she’d been swept along by the moment, that he’d given her no choice. But that would be a cop-out, wouldn’t it? He couldn’t seize control if she refused to cede it. Yet she hated the thought of running from a challenge, giving him the satisfaction of knowing he’d rattled her.
Or was something else going on in her devious brain? She’d have to be pretty naïve not to acknowledge, at least to herself, the way her body reacted when he touched her. She was a healthy, thirty-two year old woman who’d been celibate a bit too long, but her sex drive had picked a pretty inconvenient moment to reassert itself.
While Kostenko retrieved her coat, Alexis recited in her mind the top ten list of reasons why she wouldn’t be going anywhere with him. Anyhow, if seduction was his strategy, where could he possibly take her?
To his place, wherever that was, past the security cameras and the all-knowing eyes of his concierge? To some thousand-bucks-a-night, Russian Mafia-run hotel where the staff knew him by name, where he’d taken countless other girls who were as intrigued by him as—admittedly—she was?
Or even worse, a guaranteed disaster, did he expect her to initiate the protracted administrative procedure necessary to clear him into the Embassy compound, where her townhouse was? God, her shiny Foreign Service career would be in shreds by sunrise if she tried that.
Given her rank and his, it would make the Washington Post , front page above the fold on a slow news day. She could already see the headlines: U.S. Embassy Official Compromised in Liaison with Senior Russian Officer. And then, in smaller print: Involvement of Moscow Intelligence Organs Suspected.
Subtle or not, he had to be planning to use sex to compromise her, making her ripe for blackmail by the Russian security services.
The rational part of her brain was still scrolling through a list of cautions when Kostenko slipped up behind her. She jumped up, alarmed by the way her body yearned toward him, every pleasure point thrumming with a symphony of desire.
Shit . She needed to get away from this guy, whether it dented her pride or not. Snatching her coat, she
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