Her Russian Hero (International Romance Series) (8 page)

Cecile shrugged. She didn’t care
if they drank themselves under the table. John had answered her question with a
sober mind. While the men downed their drinks, she went to stand beside Sergei
near the bay window. “It’s all settled, General. We’ll have your samples
analyzed in Boston.” She’d met him halfway and agreed to one of his demands.

“So I heard. And you will assume
the costs. My country owes you a lot.” He heaved a sigh, relief in his dark
blue eyes but his lips remained stretched into a sad line.

“Please, don’t feel indebted to
me. You heard John. I have the right to spend the contract money as I see fit.
And he agreed that these analyses can be integrated into the project.” She
placed her hand on his arm in a soothing gesture. “I know it’s difficult for
the Major General of Belarus to ask for help from a woman.”

Hadn’t John mentioned they
thought Cecil was a man? With male chauvinism ingrained in his culture, Sergei
had probably never worked with a woman as an equal. Cecile hitched her chin to
hide her disappointment.

“Oh Cecile, you are not any
woman. You are the Program Manager who brought hope back to millions of
Belarusians.” A devastating smile replaced his bitter expression and banished
the business conversation. He stepped closer and added, “A generous and
beautiful woman.”

His deep blue eyes glittered with
unbearable intensity. She breathed in the scent of his aftershave and felt
almost dizzy with need. A deep quiver slithered to her stomach. Her skin
heated. His voice, his touch, his smell created a sensual ambiance that sent
her world into a tailspin.

Outside the window, snowflakes
twirled in a happy dance. Cecile wished she could walk out and cool off in the
snow before she totally combusted. For the life of her, she couldn’t move away.

“Once the project starts, it will
last for a few months,” Sergei reminded her.

She nodded blankly. “Yes, I
know.”

“Will anyone miss you there, in
Boston?” He stilled and fixed her with a strange look.

“Maybe the chemists, if they have
problems.”

“No, I mean…” He rubbed a finger
over her hand. “You are not wearing a ring. You are not married?”

“I broke my engagement three
months ago.”

“You gave him back his ring?”

She glanced at her bare hand and
tried not to think of the horrible day Rob had stolen her promotion.

“Not exactly. I dropped it in the
flask of nitric acid sitting on the laboratory bench.”

Sergei burst out laughing. “In
the acid? Hmm…excuse me. It is inappropriate on my part.” He cleared his throat
and stared at her with obvious interest.

Cecile shrugged and looked out
the window. “I’ve closed that chapter. Work is my life now.”

“I understand you. Since my wife
died of cancer five years ago, I have lived only for my country.”

In his eyes, she saw a sadness
that melted her heart. This man had suffered. For her own peace of mind, she preferred
not to dwell on his feelings or her own.

“And now, there is no significant
man to worry about you?”

No one had ever worried about
her. Not even Rob, she thought with a frown of bitterness. Now at thirty-four,
she steered away from any new commitment to concentrate on her work.

Sergei’s gaze locked with hers.
With a jolt of pleasure, she noticed the anxious glint in his eyes.

“None.” She shook her head to
emphasize her statement.

“
Cecilya
, I have never met
a woman like you.”

She loved the local accent he
added to her name,
Cecilya
. The unique way he pronounced it as if he
were singing a Russian melody. Tania had confided that every woman in Minsk was
a bit in love with the Major General. And he was finding her different? Maybe
special? Could it be true?

Mesmerized, she smiled. His hand
squeezed her shoulder. She snapped backward. God, how could she ignore her
sacrosanct rules of never-fool-around-at-work and don’t-mix-business-with-fun?
Especially after Rob.

She freed her shoulder from his
hold and eased away. “General, we’ll work together on this project,” she
managed to say, using his title as a protective barrier against his charm.
“You’re my client, a business colleague,” she affirmed through clenched jaws,
trying to convince herself as much as him.

“Yes, we share an important
project. But I also want to know you.” Sergei raked his fingers through his
hair. His brows knitted as he captured her gaze.

I’d prefer not to know you
better
. Her heart thudded heavily as she leveled an uncertain look at his
noble face. His eyes reflected the same ache, the same longing. He bent and
whispered, “I wish I could take you in my arms right now,
Cecilya
.
Keeping my hands away from you is a greater struggle than fighting on a
battlefield.”

Her heart jolted. Heat suffused
her cheeks and tremors flared in her belly at the intensity of his gaze. She
leaned her forehead against the windowpane to cool her face and her thoughts.
“Please, let’s go back with the others.”

He slid a hand to her elbow and
guided her to her seat, sitting across the table to face her.

Their host refilled the glasses.
More toasts followed. Cecile toyed with her shot glass. Her companions’
laughter and loud conversation reached her through a daze.

Her gaze drifted toward Sergei.
He didn’t urge her to drink, didn’t touch her or talk to her. His eyebrows
arched in query. A searching look in his eyes sent heat seeping to her belly.
Unable to withstand the silent exchange, she heaved an inward sigh. Ignoring
the food on her plate and the alcohol in her glass, she struggled to regain her
composure.

At the end of the dinner, Yelena
collected the dirty dishes. Cecile insisted on helping. She needed to get away
from Sergei’s burning gaze. “In America, we always share the cleaning when
we’re invited to a meal with family or friends. Besides, I’m curious to see a
Belarusian kitchen.”

A stack of dishes in her hands,
Cecile followed Yelena to the small kitchen, furnished with white cabinets and
a marble countertop. Yelena hand-washed the china, trying to converse in a
jumble of Russian, broken English and expressive hand gestures. While Cecile
dried the dishes and silverware, she smiled and nodded, not sure she
understood.

As Cecile put away the last fork
and turned to leave the kitchen, she froze. The general’s massive shoulders
blocked the entrance. He stepped in and spoke in Russian. Yelena edged around
him to the hallway.

Cecile gasped, stunned by his
audacity. “You kicked her out of her own kitchen.”

“I very politely asked her if she
would allow me a few minutes of privacy to discuss the contract.” Unperturbed,
Sergei chuckled, his eyes gleaming with mischievous sparks. He closed the door
behind their hostess.

Cecile raised her eyebrows.
“General Fedorin, the Nicouvitches invited us. We can’t just abandon them to
chitchat in the kitchen.”

“Trust me. We will not be
missed,” Sergei assured her with a shrug. “You can hear Nicolai playing his
guitar. And John is so drunk he can’t remember his name right now.”

She couldn’t suppress her
laughter. He’d locked her in the kitchen to discuss the contract? Her pulse
accelerated. She was afraid to guess his intentions, afraid and thrilled.

Folding her arms, she tilted her
head. “Okay, what’s so urgent about the contract?”

“The contract, hmm…” He hesitated.
“As far as I can see, the contract is starting well. I want to tell you how
much I appreciate the effort of the…of our lovely Program Manager.” He stumbled
on the words with a sheepish smile, then held her shoulders. “I like her
kindness. Her delicate beauty.”

A warm tingling crawled between
her legs. Her calm assurance deserted her. She knew her assertive strength
would betray her in a second under the onslaught of his charm and she’d melt in
his arms like a solitary snowflake under glorious sunshine. “Please, let’s go
back.” She tried to disengage herself from his grasp.

“Wait.” Sergei stepped closer and
enfolded her in his arms. “Cecilya, you have invaded my life and my soul. I
can’t let you go.” He squeezed her against him and pressed blazing lips against
her temple.

Cecile sighed, already consumed
by his heat and her desire. How long could she fight her own heart and body?
She closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of firm lips and gentle hands. For a
moment, she leaned against him, feeling cozy, cushioned by rippling muscles.

His hand played with a lock of
her hair then caressed her cheek. She breathed in slow gulps, wishing and
waiting for his kiss. His fingers brushed over the contour of her parted lips.
Her eyelids dropped as she accepted defeat.

Sergei’s hand slid to her back
pressing her against the hard length of his body. His mouth claimed hers, warm
and demanding. She tasted the burning vodka on his tongue and looped her arms
around his neck, welding her aching body to his muscular frame. Although, she’d
hardly swallowed two sips of her vodka, she felt drunk, intoxicated by his kiss
and the liquor. She freed her mouth gasping for air and breathed in the mingled
scents of alcohol and cologne.

She nestled her head into the
hollow of his shoulder and her fingers combed the hair at his nape. Sergei
rested his chin against her forehead.

“Cecilya, we can’t wait for fate
to hand us an hour here and there.” She moaned softly, sharing his frustration.
“I need to see you…privately. I’ll ask Nicolai to drive you tomorrow.” He
smoothed her hair. His hand slid to cradle her cheek. Like a kitten ready to
purr, she rubbed her face against his palm. “Will you come?” His voice grated
low with urgency.

She nodded, without bothering to
ask where they would meet.

His fiery gaze locked with hers,
challenging and promising. Soon.

For one breathless moment, she
realized she would give anything to keep his arms around her body and his lips
on hers.

Then she sobered up.

What about the project she’d
worked so hard to obtain? She couldn’t allow herself to forget her goal in his
arms.

Chapter Seven

Cecile snapped her fingers at the
audience gathered around her. “We’re not here to chitchat and drink vodka.
Today is Wednesday. You have exactly three days to clean and reorganize the
lab. The proper way.” Her sharp tone brooked no discussion.

Together with Dr. Kadelov and
Colonel Nicouvitch, the Belarusian chemists listened to her directives with
rapt attention.

“Alexander, please tell the lab
manager I will perform an audit on Friday, before going back to Boston. I’ll
hold him responsible for his staff’s performance.”

Dr. Kadelov issued his own orders
in a harsh Russian that sounded like barking.

There were a lot of
da
,
da
and
okays
echoing around her.

“Good,” she said assuming
everyone agreed with her. “
Kharasho
,” she repeated in Russian “Now let’s
start.”

Stimulated by her assertive
determination, the local chemists followed Dr. Kadelov to implement her
instructions.

Colonel Nicouvitch approached
her. “Dr. Lornier, I need a word with you. Outside.”

She left the lab and strode along
the hallway to the front yard. John already waited in Tania’s van. As soon as
they were out of earshot, the colonel came close to her. “My
Generalle
wants to discuss your findings about the Belchem Lab.” Nicolai lowered his
voice. “At seven-thirty this evening, I’ll pick you up and drive you to the
Hall of Officers, if you don’t mind.”

She nodded, suppressing an elated
smile. As she slid in the car she informed John she needed a good night’s sleep
and wouldn’t join him in the lobby to go to dinner at seven.

* * * * *

“The Hall of Officers is almost
deserted at night,” the colonel explained in a hushed voice as if the walls
could hear. Honestly, she wouldn’t be surprised if they did, considering the
amount of precautions the Belarusians took to preserve their privacy.

They arrived in front of the
general’s office. The colonel opened the door of the antechamber with a huge
key and let her pass in front of him. The soundproof duplicate doors to the
office jerked open.

Sergei was waiting for them. He smiled
and brought her hand to his lips. “I’m glad you came.” He led her into his
office and showed her to a chair. “I hope you had a good day, Dr. Lornier.
Please have a seat and tell us in layman’s words how the laboratory
reorganization is proceeding.”

He sat behind his desk. The
carved lamp illuminated the area between them, leaving the rest of the room in
dimness. She cringed at the strange way to give an official report, yet she
related her findings and her plans. “It’ll require a lot of work but we’ll
eventually succeed.”

Sergei sniffed and waved his hand
in a derogatory gesture. “The Belchem scientists are a bunch of lazy guys
indulging in their everlasting researches. They need some military training to
learn discipline and strict schedules.” He scowled. “Let me know if you need
help to handle them.”

Cecile stiffened and eyed him
coldly. “General Fedorin, I am used to making people—men and women—work. We’ll
reconvene in a couple of days before I leave. By then, you’ll be able to assess
our work and form a more accurate opinion of our progress.”

The general smiled the half-smile
she was beginning to know well and tented his fingers. “Great, you’re never
afraid of challenge. Now, how about sharing a drink and a bite?”

Sergei came around his desk and
edged past her to open the closet on the other side of the room. He set a
bottle of vodka and glasses on the cocktail table and brought a tray of black
bread, sausage and caviar. Cecile peered at him through the darkness of the
room and chuckled.