by Risk, Mona
She heard the bitterness underlying his comments. “How about the private life of a general? Is it different?”
His lips stretched into a disillusioned smile. “For me, it is quite a different matter. Because of the visibility of my position, my every move is dissected. Any woman seen at my side is scrutinized. I can’t date a foreign woman, particularly an official envoy to my country. The paparazzi would have our picture in the front page of every newspaper with a big title, Major General and American Program Manager… Stormy Affair… Unpatriotic Business.”
“Oh my God!” Oppressed by the lack of privacy, she twisted her head right and left, surveying the darkened office. “Are you sure no one is watching us, or hearing us right now?”
“Positive, my dear. Nicolai and I checked every inch of this room. We turned off the light bulbs that could be bugged. This lamp is safe.”
She trusted him on the subject of surveillance—more like the KGB spying in her opinion—and crossed her legs, relaxed against the back of the sofa.
He filled both glasses with vodka. “Na zdorovie, to you, Cecilya, my beautiful American.”
No one had ever made her feel so special. For her colleagues and friends, she was the brainy executive they consulted and rarely dared to contradict.
Granted, she’d like the general to acknowledge her professional capability but right now she basked in his compliment.
Sergei lowered himself onto the sofa and clanked his glass to hers. As usual, he swallowed his drink in one gulp. A crooked smile appeared on his lips. Extending his arm behind her shoulder, he bent and kissed her. A light kiss, which made her dizzier than a drink of vodka. Her shot glass in her hand, she didn’t resist. He nibbled on her lips, then released her and refilled his own glass.
“Are you planning to make me drunk?” she jested, tilting her head.
He captured her gaze and shook his head with a large grin. “Neither of us will get drunk. For every toast, you will take a sip and I will empty my glass. How about that?”
She chuckled. “And…you never get drunk…right?”
“Absolutely right. A general should always be sober. As you well know by now, we Belarusians toast a lot. Tonight I suggest we start a new tradition. We will end every toast with a kiss. I promise you an unforgettable evening.”
She swallowed, mesmerized by his suggestive words and his tender gaze. Would she survive unscathed after an evening in his arms? At the moment, all she cared was to experience the passion he offered. She raised her glass and wet her lips. “Can I make a toast?”
“By all means.” He touched his shot glass to hers and waited.
“To us,” she whispered with a strangled voice and sipped her vodka.
A burning fire lit in the deep blue of his eyes. He stared at her, downed the whole drink and deposited both glasses on the table. “You look so beautiful with your hair down and a silky shirt…less managerial…more vulnerable.” He enfolded her in his arms and stroked her hair, curling a tendril around his finger. “It feels like golden silk. Why do you often pull it in such a severe bun?”
Cecile laughed. “I try to project the image of an older, strictly professional scientist. Remember, I work in a masculine atmosphere and need to gain the respect of my colleagues. Some of them are male chauvinists.” She raised a dubious brow. “Isn’t it right, General?”
“Am I one of them?” He tilted his head, considering her question. “I’m sorry, Cecilya. I didn’t realize.” He gave her a sheepish grin and looked contrite with an endearing boyish expression as if he couldn’t imagine himself being chauvinistic. Her gaze lingered on the blue horizon of his eyes and she wholeheartedly forgave him.
“General, thank you for saying this. Your trust is so important to me.” Cecile reached and caressed the rough cheek.
Sergei pulled her onto his lap and crushed her against his chest. It would be so easy to let go and forget the world in his arms. She cuddled against his torso and anchored herself to the man she wouldn’t mind claiming as her own. Linking her hands around his neck, she held on to him as if she would never let him go. Tingles spread to her breasts and stormed her belly.
He rubbed her lips softly and feathered a caress that taunted and incited. Enflamed by desire, she allowed him to capture her mouth and parted her lips under the demand of his passion. His tongue invaded her mouth, playing and stroking.
With all her senses attuned to Sergei, she resolutely shut away the rest of her life. One coherent thought twirled through her mind as she snuggled against him and clung to his shoulders, if only time would stand still.
His hand slid under the jacket, toward her breast and cradled a lace-covered mound. He fondled and teased. Heat unfurled from her chest, spiraled down and focused between her legs. Her face flushed, her body ablaze, Cecile eased away, removed the blazer and nestled back against him.
He caressed her cheek and probed her eyes. She nodded her approval to the unvoiced question. He undid the pearl buttons of her blouse and peeled both sides away. His rugged fingers traced the contour of her lacy bra then slid under its edge. A quiver vibrated down her body. As of her own volition, her hand covered his and pressed it against her flesh to appease the tingling sensation.
His eyes mirrored her growing hunger. She raked her fingers through his hair and sought his mouth. Without interrupting her kiss, he reached around under her shirt to unhook her bra.
They glided down on the sofa and his lips drifted from her mouth to her throat. Half-lying over her, he cupped both breasts in his palms, trailed his tongue around each tip in a blazing dance and suckled on a rigid peak.
Cecile forgot time and place, past and future. Her marvelous present encompassed one man, his sturdy body molded against hers, his gentle hands skimming her flesh and his sensual lips playing havoc with her senses. She moaned and squirmed against her magnificent man, swearing to keep her hero forever.
Far away a clock chimed.
Cecile suddenly froze. God, what had she done?
There was no forever in the Major General’s arms, only slivers of present, in his office—the same office where they met and worked every day. Cecile struggled out of his embrace.
“What is it?” He groaned, breathing heavily. With the tip of his finger he smoothed away the frown that lined her forehead.
“The colonel will be back any minute,” she said with a cold edge to her voice while gripping the top of her blouse.
Sergei leveled a sober look at her. “He knows better than to barge into my office without knocking. I will not apologize for taking you in my arms.” He helped her rearrange her clothing then reached for her hand and brought it to his lips. “Cecilya, my darling, I could kiss you and caress you all through the night.”
She had come to his office and slipped into his arms willingly. Why was she resenting him now? “We’re in your office. We’re coworkers,” she wailed as she scooted away and tried to recover her cool façade. “It doesn’t sound right.”
“Cecile, this office is my home. I invited you to the only place where I could see you in peace, without worrying about curious or indiscreet ogling. I wish I could date you without restrictions. I wish I could spend hours with you.” He sighed, then poured more vodka for both of them and tapped his glass against hers. “I drink to the most beautiful hour I have had in a long time.”
She lowered her eyelashes. How could she blame him when she wanted him as much as he seemed to want her?
Sergei emptied his glass and gently smiled at her. “Cecilya? Relax.”
She inhaled and stared at him.
Cutting the bread and sausage, he prepared little sandwiches. “We had the dessert before the meal.” He fed her a bite. Dear Sergei, he was trying hard to restore her easygoing mood. “If you eat while you drink, your head will remain clear. Here, take another bite.” He gave her a mischievous smile.
“I’d think it’s a little bit too late for this advice.” She chuckled but she ate the rest of the sandwich and licked her lip
s. “Your black bread is delicious.”
“Try it with the orange caviar, another delicacy of Belarus.”
He filled the glasses. “Na zdorovie, to the loveliest scientist to set foot in Belarus.”
Flattery tumbled easily out of his luscious lips. She arched her brow. “An hour ago you claimed scientists were lazybones wasting time in endless research.”
“Don’t put words in my mouth. I never disparaged this particular American female chemist.” He shook his head vehemently and gave her a heart-stopping kiss to prove his point. “Cecilya, you are very special to me.”
“Sergei, I’m sorry. I really enjoy being with you,” she admitted. “I didn’t mean to…to…”
“Don’t apologize, please. I understand your feelings. I’ll come up with some better place for our next date.”
He still wanted to see her. A happy feeling danced in her heart. She didn’t protest a next date but she noticed the puzzled look he gave her.
“Why are you alone, Cecile?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Explain to me how such a gorgeous young woman, with stunning figure, lovely green and hazel eyes, is so involved in her work. Are your friends and your colleagues blind?”
Cecile chuckled, a blush warming her cheeks. “My last relationship with a fellow scientist brought only frustration.” She shook her head, commiserating at her failure to choose the right man. “My work is my life. I enjoy every minute of it.”
She could never give up her work, her career, the only staunch, permanent and immutable entity in her life. Men, lovers and friends, came and went and left her empty or hardened. So far, the challenge of her work and the success of her career had been exhilarating and uplifting. But now…
“Is work enough to fill a life?” Sergei’s voice echoed her thoughts.
Befuddled, Cecile tilted her head and frowned. Now, she had found a hero and she wanted to experience again the passion she’d tasted in his arms. She wanted to borrow happiness and fill the vacuum in her life. “I don’t want to lose you, Sergei.” She didn’t realize she’d voiced her innermost feelings until they echoed in her ears.
He took both of her hands and pressed them to his lips. “If it was up to me, Cecilya, you would never lose me,” he promised but they both knew there were boundaries and obstacles, even a powerful Major General and an assertive Program Manager could not predict or control.
What a mess. The Major General of Belarus couldn’t wreck his reputation by dating a foreigner. And she, the Program Manager on an official mission, couldn’t damage her career by fooling around with her client.
Yet, she’d dare the unthinkable. She wanted the inaccessible, powerful Major General of Belarus with every cell of her body. And he seemed to crave her as much.
Damn their positions.
They heard a soft tapping at the door, followed by a loud grunting.
“Come in, Nicolai.” The colonel had returned as discreetly as he’d left. Sergei bowed over her hand. His lips smoldered on her palm and his tongue traced a fiery mark upon her wrist. “Good night, my dear Cecilya. Thank you for coming. Spacibo bolshoye.”
“Thank you, General, for the drink and a lovely time.”
After a speedy drive through the dark roads, Nicolai dropped her in front of the hotel.
As she rushed toward the revolving door, a hand clamped on her shoulder and she shrieked.
Chapter Eight
“Dr. Lornier, I hope I haven’t scared you?”
The balding head of Colonel Roussov shone under the flickering light of the entrance door and his glittering eyes narrowed on her face. The man had scared her out of her wits. She bet he’d done it on purpose. Anger helped her recover from her fright.
She recoiled from him, jerking her shoulder out of his grasp. “Colonel Roussov, this is no way to accost a person. I’m glad I’m not the skittish type. I could have screamed my head off and alerted the security.”
“Dr. Lornier, we both know that you are a strong businesswoman. Right? I admire you for that. It’s quite cold here. Shall we go in?”
He gestured for her to precede him inside the hotel. Cecile cursed his untimely visit. She inhaled deeply to calm her jittery nerves. Spinning around, she entered the lighted lobby and paused. With a questioning look, she waited for him to explain his presence.
“Dr. Lornier, I came to pay you a courtesy visit,” he said, a benevolent smile glued on his lips. His lethal gaze reminded her of a snake trying to hypnotize his prey.
He ushered her toward the sitting area of the lobby and gestured to the sofa. Cecile hastened to sit in a chair. He squinted at her and lounged on the sofa. She couldn’t give him the satisfaction of gloating about her distress. Forcing a smile, she continued to stare at him. He scowled and his smile disappeared.
He studied her for a moment and she let the silence drag, hoping he’d leave soon. But he patted her arm. “You’re an amazing woman, Cecile. Now I understand why you were awarded this contract and why they all respect you at the Belchem Lab.”
She hated both his touch and the undercurrent of his compliment. “My name is Dr. Lornier. I like my title as much as you do yours, Colonel Roussov. I’d appreciate if you keep using it,” she insisted with an icy voice. “And I don’t like familiarity, even when you pay me a compliment.”
“I’ll remember it, Dr. Lornier. I have the deepest respect for you.”
“It’s very kind of you, Colonel Roussov.” She nodded and stood up to terminate the courtesy visit. He heaved himself out of the sofa.
“Wait. I would like to invite you for dinner.”
Roussov, making a pass at her? She lurched forward, unable to believe her ears. “Pardon?”
“In a restaurant,” he said with a snort. “We are two executives involved in the same project. You are helping my country. I want to show you my gratitude.”
Darn, how was she going to extricate herself from this pothole? “Thank you for the invitation.” She hesitated. “But I must decline, just because we are working together. People may view our getting together alone as unethical.” And you are not Sergei.
“Dr. Lornier, you had dinner at Colonel Nicouvitch’s flat. He is also working with you. Right?”
“I see that you are well informed.” He was a suspicious man by profession. She suppressed a shudder. What else had he learned through his spying lamps?
She averted her gaze from his bulky figure but he stepped closer and held her arm.
“As the Director of National Security, it is my duty to be informed of everything, Dr. Lornier. Everything.” She heard the hidden intimidation. “You will need my help as soon as your equipment arrives. I control the customs. My invitation remains open. Think about it. Good night.”
He turned around and left the hotel lobby. She couldn’t forget, even for a second that he was determined to destroy the Major General. Her throat constricted, the joy she’d felt in Sergei’s arms overshadowed by Roussov’s threat.
Why the invitation? What did he want from her?
* * * * *
The next two days were spent in a whirlwind of activities. Cecile held meetings with Dr. Kadelov and John Gordon. She took notes, drew floor plans, videotaped the whole lab and evaluated the few computers. And did her best to forget about Roussov.
On behalf of his general, Colonel Nicouvitch extended an invitation to the American delegation. “Dr. Lornier, the party will be held in your honor, on Thursday evening, at the Officers’ Club, a restaurant located on the first floor of the Hall of Officers. Many officers will attend. We will organize a typical Belarusian banquet with dinner and music. Be prepared to dance.”
“Are you serious?” Cecile raised an eyebrow. Would they expect her to dance? With their Major General? Talking about dance, her own pulse started a wild one in expectation.
“We always sing and dance at our soirées. And of course, we drink vodka.”
“Of course.” She chuckled. How would they perform without the indispen
sable vodka toasts? Flattered that the Belarusians would finally recognize her efforts, Cecile expressed her thanks to the colonel.
Behind her, John Gordon snorted and pulled her aside. “Cecile, you know, of course, that you’re the one paying for the dinner?”
She calculated that at the rate of six thousand BR to the dollar, the dinner would not be expensive.
“No problem.”
“You bring your cash in rubles. Foreign currency is not allowed on the army premises,” John specified.
In the afternoon, Cecile stopped at the hotel bank in the lobby to exchange a couple of hundred dollars as suggested. The clerk gathered the change in bills of one hundred rubles. She stared mesmerized as he counted for ten long minutes. He secured individual packets of five hundred bills with elastic bands and shoved them into a plastic bag. “1.2 million rubles. Do you want to check the count, Madam?” he asked as he handed her the big bag.
She blinked—he looked too solemn to be joking—and smiled back. “No need for that, I trust you.”
“Now be careful when you walk with this fortune.” He glanced dubiously at her purse. “It’s not going to fit in there. Here, keep the plastic bag in your hand and hold on to it.”
“I’m not going to walk by myself. We have colonels and army officers to protect us.” She saw his eyes widening with respect for the rich American lady who could spend a million rubles and was driven around by mighty colonels.
Cecile handed her precious bag to John. “Here, macho guy, play the boss tonight and pay on my behalf.”
Around six o’clock, Tania drove them to the Officers’ Club. As they arrived, the place rapidly filled with officers. With a sigh of relief, Cecile noticed Roussov was not present.
Sergei came to greet them. He surveyed her flame-colored silk blouse and fashionable red and black skirt and smiled his appreciation. “Red suits you.”
Cecile let him lead her to the main dining room of the Officer’s club. He seated her at the center of the long table adorned with three vases of pink and red flowers and sat right beside her. When everyone settled according to the correct protocol, several waitresses poured vodka in the shot glasses.