hustled into it under her own steam, then scooped up her briefcase and got the hell out of there.
After the darkened womb of the theater, the garishly lit corridor hurt her eyes and assaulted her senses, though the public setting was a reassurance. The captain prowled just behind her, gripping her arm to guide her—all quiet assurance and contained intensity. When the shrill pulse of his phone chimed out, Alexis slipped deftly free of him and hurried ahead, beyond his dangerous reach.
She’d better thank her lucky stars for whatever politico-military crisis was burning the midnight oil at MFA tonight. For it soon became clear, from his clipped and barely courteous replies to the caller, that this time the captain would be obliged to address it. Near the exit, she focused on projecting cool composure while he wrapped up and flipped the phone shut.
“It seems my presence is needed at the ministry,” he said in staccato Russian, clearly too irritated to speak English, and knowing she understood him perfectly well. “Damn bloody idiots in the dip corps are timid as field mice. Every time they see a shadow, they scamper for their holes.”
He paused. “But I should be able to dispatch the problem quickly. I suppose there is no possibility—?”
“None whatsoever, captain,” she said blithely, heels clicking as she swept before him. Did he actually think she was insane enough to wait for him to conclude his business, then pick up where they’d left off? How desperate for male companionship did he think she was?
“Won’t your capital reproach you for missing the opportunity?” he murmured. Despite her brisk pace, he reached the heavy outer door first and swung it open for her. “If you’re so determined to terminate our engagement, my driver will drop you at your Embassy along the way.”
“Thank you, but that won’t be necessary. I’ll flag down a gypsy cab or take the metro.”
“Not at this hour,” he said flatly, summoning his driver with a wave.
Her breath gusted white on the brittle air—already well below zero and dropping fast. She shivered and stuck to her guns. “I’ve been living in this city without an automobile for quite some time. I’m perfectly content taking public transport.”
“If you find my company so alarming, Ms. Castle, I’ll take the damn gypsy cab myself. Get in.” He swung open the Mercedes’ back door, leaving her no room to argue.
Alexis dug her stilettos into the icy pavement and made a last ditch effort to salvage something professionally from the unmitigated disaster this night threatened to become. “I’ll relay the contents of our discussion to Washington, Captain Kostenko, and notify you when I receive further guidance.”
The minute the words left her lips, the professional negotiator in her knew she’d pressed him too far. His features hardened into the remorseless mask of the Russian officer who’d confronted her in the German Ambassador’s residence. With one menacing step, he cornered her between his body and the wing of the open door. Behind her the vehicle’s warmth flowed out, soft as an eiderdown blanket wrapping around her legs, until it hit the icy air.
“This isn’t over, Alexis,” he growled softly, one hand curling around the back of her neck, beneath her hair, inside the collar of her half-fastened coat. Calloused fingers massaged the taut column of her neck. Her toes curled inside her designer boots.
Low and intense, he repeated it. “You know it’s not over.”
“No,” she murmured. Meaning God knew what. Yes, I know it’s not over? She’d better be meaning no, it’s over, this is too dangerous for me. You’re a drug I can’t get hooked on.
She held her ground while he peered into her eyes, as if he could read only there whatever message she meant to convey.
“OK,” he said gruffly, giving her neck a squeeze, so gentle it made her knees melt. Her breath rushed out as he leaned close, brushing a brief, European kiss on
After the darkened womb of the theater, the garishly lit corridor hurt her eyes and assaulted her senses, though the public setting was a reassurance. The captain prowled just behind her, gripping her arm to guide her—all quiet assurance and contained intensity. When the shrill pulse of his phone chimed out, Alexis slipped deftly free of him and hurried ahead, beyond his dangerous reach.
She’d better thank her lucky stars for whatever politico-military crisis was burning the midnight oil at MFA tonight. For it soon became clear, from his clipped and barely courteous replies to the caller, that this time the captain would be obliged to address it. Near the exit, she focused on projecting cool composure while he wrapped up and flipped the phone shut.
“It seems my presence is needed at the ministry,” he said in staccato Russian, clearly too irritated to speak English, and knowing she understood him perfectly well. “Damn bloody idiots in the dip corps are timid as field mice. Every time they see a shadow, they scamper for their holes.”
He paused. “But I should be able to dispatch the problem quickly. I suppose there is no possibility—?”
“None whatsoever, captain,” she said blithely, heels clicking as she swept before him. Did he actually think she was insane enough to wait for him to conclude his business, then pick up where they’d left off? How desperate for male companionship did he think she was?
“Won’t your capital reproach you for missing the opportunity?” he murmured. Despite her brisk pace, he reached the heavy outer door first and swung it open for her. “If you’re so determined to terminate our engagement, my driver will drop you at your Embassy along the way.”
“Thank you, but that won’t be necessary. I’ll flag down a gypsy cab or take the metro.”
“Not at this hour,” he said flatly, summoning his driver with a wave.
Her breath gusted white on the brittle air—already well below zero and dropping fast. She shivered and stuck to her guns. “I’ve been living in this city without an automobile for quite some time. I’m perfectly content taking public transport.”
“If you find my company so alarming, Ms. Castle, I’ll take the damn gypsy cab myself. Get in.” He swung open the Mercedes’ back door, leaving her no room to argue.
Alexis dug her stilettos into the icy pavement and made a last ditch effort to salvage something professionally from the unmitigated disaster this night threatened to become. “I’ll relay the contents of our discussion to Washington, Captain Kostenko, and notify you when I receive further guidance.”
The minute the words left her lips, the professional negotiator in her knew she’d pressed him too far. His features hardened into the remorseless mask of the Russian officer who’d confronted her in the German Ambassador’s residence. With one menacing step, he cornered her between his body and the wing of the open door. Behind her the vehicle’s warmth flowed out, soft as an eiderdown blanket wrapping around her legs, until it hit the icy air.
“This isn’t over, Alexis,” he growled softly, one hand curling around the back of her neck, beneath her hair, inside the collar of her half-fastened coat. Calloused fingers massaged the taut column of her neck. Her toes curled inside her designer boots.
Low and intense, he repeated it. “You know it’s not over.”
“No,” she murmured. Meaning God knew what. Yes, I know it’s not over? She’d better be meaning no, it’s over, this is too dangerous for me. You’re a drug I can’t get hooked on.
She held her ground while he peered into her eyes, as if he could read only there whatever message she meant to convey.
“OK,” he said gruffly, giving her neck a squeeze, so gentle it made her knees melt. Her breath rushed out as he leaned close, brushing a brief, European kiss on
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