by Lynne Graham
Sveta murmured, ‘She’s married. She’s wearing a ring.’
Nikolai never slept with other men’s wives. It was one of the very few embargos he respected: he gave married women a very wide berth. ‘Check it out,’ he urged, unwilling to credit that she might be out of reach, as it was rare for anything to be unconquerable for Nikolai; there were always ways and means of acquiring what he wanted. And his senses were already humming at the prospect of entertaining the redhead in his bed that night, unveiling those magnificent breasts and endless long legs for his private enjoyment. He remembered the way her glittering gaze had lingered on him and had no doubt that his interest was returned. If she was a wife she was an unfaithful one.
One of the dressers began to strip the evening gown from Abbey and assist her at speed into her next outfit. Another removed her jewellery. Her skin felt clammy and she felt dizzy. What had happened to her out there? Men didn’t have that big an effect on Abbey. Her nature was cool rather than passionate. Jeffrey was the only man she had ever wanted and she had fallen for him in her teens, moving from an explosive adolescent infatuation to deep joyous love with continued exposure to his company. There had never been anyone else for her and only loneliness and the fear that she might be acting a little obsessively had persuaded her, with Caroline’s encouragement, to try dating other men over the past year. All those dates had been non-starters, for none of those men had had an ounce of Jeffrey’s intelligence or natural charm.
Caroline joined her sister-in-law while the younger woman’s make-up was being touched up. ‘Nikolai Arlov has asked for your phone number!’ she announced.
‘He can’t have it,’ Abbey replied without hesitation as her arms were guided into a shirt and her legs into wide-legged trousers. A fashionable tan raincoat was fed into place over both garments and the belt cinched to accentuate her narrow waist. What did she have to say to a Russian billionaire with a notorious reputation with her sex? Absolutely nothing.
‘But you will at least speak to him?’ Caroline pressed anxiously. ‘We can’t afford to offend the guy. Think of Futures’ funds, Abbey.’
Abbey could not help resenting that piece of advice, for she could see no reason why she should be forced to speak to a man she didn’t want to speak to. And then all of a sudden she remembered how she had looked at him minutes earlier and felt guiltily that her behaviour might well have prompted him to make an approach.
‘Okay. Drew here yet?’
‘Not yet,’ the blond woman responded ruefully.
‘He’s obsessed with work right now,’ Abbey proffered as an excuse.
‘As long as that’s all that’s keeping him out late so many nights,’ Caroline quipped, startling Abbey.
‘For goodness’ sake, Drew adores you!’ Abbey countered.
‘He’s been rather evasive and quiet on the adoration front recently. But, no, I don’t think there’s another woman,’ Caroline confirmed, meeting Abbey’s anxious gaze in the mirror. ‘I don’t think he’s got the time or the energy to neglect two of us!’
Abbey relaxed again, but she hadn’t missed the thread of annoyance and worry in her sister-in-law’s voice and she resolved to have a word with her brother for his thoughtlessness. What on earth was Drew playing at? Did he really work this late often? Didn’t he appreciate that Caroline needed his support and company at home? Abbey refused to work after eight in the evening unless there was a crisis; she usually went into the office very early in the morning and it was impossible to burn the candle at both ends and stay healthy. At night she liked to go home via the gym where she exercised, and then cook a light supper and chill out before bedtime.
‘A billionaire wants to ask you out and you’re not even shaking!’ Sally censured. ‘Aren’t you excited?’
‘Why would I be? He’s extremely handsome, but what would we have in common?’ Abbey asked.
‘I want you to go out with him just so that you can tell me what it was like,’ the beautician confided. ‘Are you going to speak to him after the show?’
‘Seems like I don’t have much choice.’ But when Abbey thought about Nikolai Arlov’s wonderfully dark deep-set eyes her stomach contracted. She questioned her susceptibility, disturbed by the nervous tension licking through her like a forest fire. She felt as though she didn’t know herself any more. And when she sashayed down the catwalk again, his intense gaze didn’t stray from her for a single second. She avoided looking in his direction to the best of her ability but, in an odd way that she didn’t want to think about, she liked his unwavering attention.
‘You should borrow something to wear for the supper afterwards. After all the glam outfits you’ve paraded in front of him it won’t do to appear in the jeans and T-shirt you arrived in,’ Caroline opined.
‘My own clothes will do fine.’
Her sister-in-law caught her narrow wrist between her fingers before she turned away. ‘Don’t blow Arlov away. You can’t mourn my brother for ever.’
Why not? Abbey almost demanded. Jeffrey was dead and that would last for ever. In the same way she knew she would miss her husband for ever and never forget him. She didn’t think she would ever get over losing the love of her life and she wasn’t ashamed of that fact. Love like that was precious, a great deal more precious than anything she had been offered since her husband’s death had left her a widow. She was not stupid. She was all too well aware that most men only thought of one thing when they looked at her large breasts and long legs. Ironically that one thing had been the very last thing on Jeffrey’s mind, she conceded wryly.
Nikolai was not surprised to find Abbey Carmichael waiting for him at the buffet held after the show. But he was taken aback by her make-up-bare face and casual apparel, since women usually went to a great deal more effort in the glamour stakes when he was around. In actuality she could get away with the scrubbed natural look because her creamy freckled skin had the sun-warmed glow of a peach and she simply looked younger and more fragile with her glorious fiery hair tumbling casually round her narrow shoulders.
Caroline and Futures’ charity director greeted the Russian tycoon and began to talk to him. Abbey sipped her glass of wine and studied the tall black-haired Russian, wondering why his obvious boredom should set her teeth on edge. No doubt he performed miracles with his money, but he didn’t necessarily have to have a personal interest in the charities that benefited from his generosity. She was conscious that his attention was on her, not on his companions. Her bra felt tight when she breathed and her breasts tingled with awareness inside the lace cups. Minutes later, Abbey was beckoned over and introduced.
‘Abbey Carmichael…Nikolai Danilovich Arlov…’
CHAPTER TWO
N IKOLAI held on to Abbey’s slim hand longer than was necessary and commented as he walked her away, ‘You’re the most beautiful woman here tonight.’
‘I’m flattered that you noticed me when you were so busy with your phone,’ Abbey murmured tongue-in-cheek, embarrassingly aware of the way his gaze was welded to her generous mouth. She wondered what it would feel like to kiss him and startled herself with the thought.
Ignoring the potential sting of that comment, Nikolai smiled while Caroline shot the younger woman a warning glance. ‘I’m afraid that business dominates my life. Let me buy the blue dress for you. It would be a sin if it was bought and worn by any other woman.’
Shock at that careless offer made Abbey’s lips part company and she blinked in surprise. ‘No, thanks, Mr Arlov. I prefer to buy my own clothes.’
‘Nikolai,’ he urged, watching her for the response he was accustomed to receiving from her sex.
Meeting his stunning dark eyes head-on, she felt extraordinarily short of breath and her tummy flipped. He had astonishingly long and luxuriant black eyelashes for a man. Her nipples had tightened into stinging hardness and she was terrified they would show through her cotton T-shirt. She folded her arms hurriedly. She had never been so conscious of her own body or of a man’s proximity in he
r entire life and the level of that awareness was unnerving her. ‘I don’t think I know you well enough-’
‘A situation which I am eager to remedy,’ he cut in, smooth as glass. ‘Would you like to go to a club when this affair winds up? Or perhaps for a meal?’
‘No, I’ll be winding up, too. I have to get up for work in the morning,’ Abbey pointed out in a flat, discouraging tone.
Exasperated dark as ebony eyes rested on her mutinous face. ‘Are you always this difficult to pin down for a date?’
‘I’m just not interested in getting to know you any better,’ Abbey told him honestly. ‘Don’t waste your time on me.’
Blunt rejection was not an occurrence that Nikolai was familiar with. Women usually went out of their way to attract his attention and hold it. His gifts were received with shrieks of pleasure and gratitude, not ignored or refused. To be turned down by a woman who did not even try to sound regretful was a novel experience for him and not one he savoured.
‘I allow nobody to waste my time. Tell me, do you continue to wear a wedding ring to keep other men at a distance?’
Abbey could not credit his insolence in daring to ask her that question. Did his choice of words suggest that he was already aware that she was a widow? If anything Nikolai Danilovich Arlov was proving to be even more obnoxious than she had expected him to be, she acknowledged, her pride still smarting from his impertinent offer to buy her the blue evening gown. She glanced down at the familiar band of gold on her wedding finger. ‘No, I still wear my wedding ring to remind me that I was once married to a very special man.’
Rare anger sparked and flared through Nikolai. He breathed in slow and deep. The defiant tilt of her chin, her patronising tone and the haughty look in her eyes offended his pride and masculinity. But more than anything else he did not want to hear her say such things. He wanted her to be carefree and hot as he was for a more intimate acquaintance, not some idealistic clean-living widow who had buried her heart in the grave with her Mr Perfect husband. Keen to steer the conversation to other channels, he asked her where she worked.
Abbey told him with pride that she was a partner in a concierge business with her brother.
‘The service industry is booming at present,’ he remarked, and he asked her how she had got involved in devoting her spare time to a spinal injuries charity. She explained that Caroline was married to her brother and described the very real support given by Futures during the challenging transition the blond woman had had to make from being able-bodied and independent to disabled.
‘Like a lot of people in the same position her whole life changed and she didn’t know where to turn,’ Abbey advanced with enthusiasm, for she was happier to talk about the charity than talk about herself. ‘She could no longer do the job she had trained for-she was a chef and a good one. Her home wasn’t adapted to her needs and she had financial problems because the accident put paid to her earnings. Futures stepped in with advice, counselling and a grant that covered her most pressing requirements-’
‘You’re a good advocate for the work that Futures does. If I offer to make a large donation to the charity, will that buy me some of your precious time?’
Abbey was stunned by the staggering concept of anyone purchasing her time and company with cash. Hot colour washed her cheeks, her violet eyes widening in disbelief. ‘I’m not a hooker for hire, Mr Danilovich.’
He rested his brilliant dark eyes on her. ‘I believe I’m already aware of that fact. But like most keen businessmen I will use any angle that works to get me what I want. If your heart is softened by the prospect of the charity benefiting from my interest in you, I will not be slow to take advantage of it. Do you want to talk figures?’
‘No, I do not!’ Abbey gasped, shocked to the core by his attitude. Only when heads turned in their radius did she realise that her sharp tone had carried farther afield. In receipt of curious glances, she flushed. ‘If you wish to make a donation, please make sure it has nothing to do with me. You should discuss it with Cyril Townsend, Futures’ director.’
‘But it will have everything to do with you. At least let me take you home, lubimaya,’ he breathed, his Russian accent curling richly round the vowel sounds.
Abbey intercepted a pleading look from her sister-in-law and compressed her lips. She was reluctant to embarrass the blond woman by offending the charity’s VIP guest. ‘I’m afraid not. I’m driving my sister-in-law home,’ she confided.
In receipt of yet another rebuff, Nikolai studied her as if he could not believe his ears. ‘Then when will I see you again?’
‘I don’t think a second meeting is on the agenda,’ Abbey replied.
‘I want you.’
I want you. That admission was bold and uncompromising and he delivered it like a challenge, a sworn statement of intent. Her heart lurched inside her ribcage as he stared down at her with stubborn brooding force etched in his lean, sardonic face. He had buckets of sex appeal and, no matter how hard she tried, she was insanely aware of his breathtaking good looks and far from impervious to his rough-edged masculine appeal. Antipathy and resentment shot through her tall shapely body, however, and she lifted her chin. ‘I’m not for sale, Mr Danilovich. And I can’t be bribed.’
‘Every human being under the sun has a price. It may not be money, it may be something else. It doesn’t follow that a bribe, as you call it, is morally wrong if it wins positive results,’ Nikolai traded.
‘We don’t see the world the same way,’ Abbey countered drily, unsurprised by his attempt to package his unacceptable bribe into an excusable act of benevolence. She was dealing with a hard, cynical man whose greatest god was money and who did not know how to accept the word no when it conflicted with his wishes. ‘And I doubt that we ever will.’
‘I’m a realist and rarely wrong.’
‘How comforting it must be to see oneself as supreme in all fields,’ Abbey replied.
‘Apparently not in this encounter,’ he quipped.
‘Goodbye, Mr Arlov. I hope you won’t regard a donation to Futures as being in any way influenced by my behaviour.’ Abbey walked away from him with a strong sense of relief.
Nikolai watched her until she vanished from view. He felt angry and frustrated. He had never met a more annoying or intriguing woman and her unexpected resistance and prickly personality had only heightened the intensity of his desire for her.
A few minutes later, and with her children in tow, Caroline tracked Abbey down to where she was gathering her things in the now-silent dressing area that had earlier buzzed with so much life and noise. ‘What did you say to our Russian billionaire? Leaving, he looked like the iceberg that sank the Titanic.’
‘No iceberg is that hot to trot.’
‘It’s not a hanging offence to fancy you, you know.’ Her sister-in-law sighed. ‘You are single and very attractive.’
‘I didn’t like him at all.’ Abbey chewed anxiously at the soft underside of her lower lip. ‘Did he write a cheque?’
‘No, he didn’t give Futures a penny.’
Abbey compressed her lips in disappointment and followed her brother’s wife out to the lift that would ferry them back down to the car park. She wondered if she would lie awake all night feeling guilty about the donation that hadn’t materialised because she had done nothing to encourage it. Would it have killed her to spend a couple of hours with Nikolai? She drove Caroline and the children home and saw them indoors before heading back to her apartment. Drew had been a no-show. He had sent his wife only an apologetic text. Her soft, full mouth down-curving, Abbey resolved to have a quiet word with her sibling. Caroline wasn’t just her brother’s wife, she was also the woman that Abbey had long regarded and trusted as her closest friend.
‘So what happened to you last night?’ Abbey demanded of her brother when she walked into his office the next morning. He had red hair like her and blue eyes, and was a tall man who wore metal-framed spectacles. At thirty, he was five years her senior and a qualified a
ccountant.
‘I wanted to finish the accounts before the tax man comes calling,’ Drew responded. ‘There’s a lot of extra work to do around here since we expanded our client base. Don’t forget that I have to wear two hats. I’m the firm accountant as well as your partner.’
‘I know.’ Abbey resisted the temptation to point out that he had been the biggest advocate for expanding the business when both she and his wife had been content with the status quo. ‘Perhaps we should take on someone to help you with the accounts-’
‘No!’ Her brother disagreed with a vehemence that made her look at him in astonishment. ‘Sorry, but I have my own way of doing things,’ he added tautly when he intercepted her questioning glance.
‘Fine.’ But Abbey studied him, wondering why he was so determined not to accept help when he was obviously finding the financial side a burden. Not for the first time she wished she had a better head for juggling figures. ‘I just feel that you should have had the time to come to the fashion show-’
‘I’m not into fund-raising and stuff. That’s Caroline’s territory. I would’ve been a fish out of water,’ he asserted.
‘Caroline’s lonely,’ Abbey responded gently. ‘You’ve been working late a lot recently.’
Drew shrugged. ‘Caroline and I live and work together,’ he reminded her. ‘Sometimes it feels suffocating. I’m not always here in the office working when I’m late home. Sometimes I just like to go out on my own.’
Abbey was dismayed by the tenor of that admission. Suffocating? That was not a healthy word to describe a marital relationship. ‘Is there anything wrong?’