lower with gloved hands, he could see she was smiling. It also had an unexpected effect on him. The idea of kissing those lips flashed through his mind, sending a trail of blazing lust hurtling through him. That train of thought would achieve nothing and he grimly pushed it away. This was not a time to allow lust to reign and certainly not with this woman.
‘This way, Miss Sanders,’ he said purposefully, ignoring her invitation to use her first name, and walked briskly away without ensuring she was following, heading for the hotel he’d booked into. He’d purposefully chosen the same hotel as the interfering Miss Sanders, enabling him to ensure she didn’t meddle in the dark, hidden past of his family. Had that been the right decision?
Now that he’d met Emma Sanders he knew he’d be able to charm and distract her, making sure she learnt only the romantic ideals about his family story she was no doubt searching for. The only problem was that he suspected he himself was in danger of falling victim to her charms and distractions.
‘I expect you are used to this cold, but it’s a shock for me,’ she said as they stepped inside, out of the wind. The warmth of the hotel, set out as if a village of cosy log cabins, gave it an intimate and even romantic feel that would no doubt help his cause. Very soon he’d have Miss Emma Sanders believing he was more than pleased to talk about his family history.
‘My home is in New York, Miss Sanders.’
‘Oh,’ she said, pulling off her hat as they entered the lounge area of the main part of the hotel, the heat of the log fire a welcome relief from outside. ‘I’m sorry; I assumed you lived here with your grandmother.’
He watched as she removed her scarf, revealing long, straight hair the colour of sable, and for a brief moment he forgot himself, forgot that this woman had the power to hurt his mother and expose him for what he really was, as that earlier trail of lust streaked through him again. Mentally he shook himself. He might have a history of brief and hot affairs with women, but this was one woman he could not want.
‘Never assume anything, Miss Sanders.’ Angered by his reaction at seeing beneath the layers of dark fur she wore, as if born to Russian winters, he fought to keep his tone neutral. She was a beautiful woman, and his body’s reaction to her meant that his voice was anything but neutral and much harsher than it should have been.
She looked up at him, a question in her eyes, her slender dark brows furrowed into a frown of confusion. ‘Life has taught me that, Mr Petrushov.’
‘Cunningham,’ he corrected her again, but something in the way she said those words and the look of haunted fear which had rushed across her beautiful face as she’d spoken nudged at his conscience. He shouldn’t be so hard, so aggressive. Not if he wanted to steer her away from the truth of his family. Maybe playing to the attraction sizzling between them would be the way to create that distraction?
He wondered what she meant as he picked up on the inference that life hadn’t been easy for her. He resisted the urge to ask, not wanting to draw her into a conversation that may turn back on him. Over the years he’d become adept at providing just enough information about himself to satisfy people, but never enough for them to know the full facts.
‘Then we already understand one another.’ He pulled off his coat and hat, hung them up then took hers from her, his fingers unexpectedly brushing against hers. A jolt of heat surged through him and, as she pulled her hand back, she looked up at him, her green eyes wide and startled. Her full lips, slicked with gloss, parted and he had an almost uncontrollable urge to lower his head and kiss her. Not a gentle brushing of lips but a hard, demanding kiss. The kind of kiss which led to fierce and passionate sex.
What the hell was he thinking?
She stepped back away from him as a flush of colour covered her pale face and her eyes darkened to resemble the deepest ocean. She’d felt it too, of that there was no doubt. If she had been any other woman, he wouldn’t have thought twice about acting on the attraction. But she wasn’t any other woman. She could tear open his past, threatening not just his mother’s happiness but his reputation. He wouldn’t allow it to happen—not at any cost.
‘Yes, yes, we do. We—we understand each other perfectly.’ She stumbled over her words and he stifled a smile of satisfaction. Maybe the attraction could be used to ensure she didn’t find out just who he really was. If a touch and a brief moment of sexual chemistry could disarm her, that would be a pleasant way to distract her from digging around too much into his family’s past.
* * *
Emma hated the way she could hardly form a sentence as Nikolai Cunningham all but scrutinised her. He had muddled her mind and sent her insides into turmoil from the moment they’d met. It was as if a spark of recognition had reached out from him, inexplicably drawing her closer.
She thought of Richard, the man she’d always wished could be more than just a friend, and compared him to this powerful specimen of masculinity. Richard was attractive but safe, but this man was undeniably handsome and oozed a lethal kind of sex appeal. She shivered as something arced between them. He held her gaze and she knew she had to remember he was also the man who held the key to her successfully completing this assignment and securing a long-term contract with World in Photographs.
What happened over the next few days could launch her career as a photographer. More importantly, it would provide a regular income, which was badly needed if she was to stand any chance at all of supporting her younger sister Jess as she embarked on a lifetime dream of becoming a ballerina. They’d both had so many knockbacks in life, going from foster home to foster home, that she wanted her younger sister to do what made her happy. And she was good at it—talented, in fact. After the things they’d experienced together, they both deserved happiness, and if Jess was happy then so was she.
The tall, dark-haired man who’d just sent a frisson of awareness zipping around her had been distinctly cold towards her initially, more so than the icy winds. Something had inexplicably changed in the last few moments. He’d looked at her differently, making heat surge through her in a way she’d never known before, and she wasn’t sure she was able to deal with it. Thoughts of Richard had never done that to her.
‘I shall accompany you to the meeting with Marya Petrushov, who is my grandmother, but first I will take you to several locations you can use for the photographs you require.’ Something about the tone of his voice made it clear that to ask for more than this right now would be inadvisable, especially the way he’d said his grandmother’s name. She immediately sensed unresolved issues and wondered how often he saw his grandmother with so many miles between them.
Throwing caution to the wind and quelling her curiosity for now, she looked directly at him, her chin lifted slightly, and clearly set out her terms. ‘I not only need photographs of locations, Mr Petrushov, but of you and your grandmother—along with any other family members.’
Her brief was to step inside the life of the Russian family which had made its wealth only decades ago and see just how it lived. If she didn’t deliver on that brief, she’d never get her contract, which would mean she’d have no way of funding Jess in one of Russia’s elite ballet schools. The fact that this meeting was taking place in a town only a night-train-ride away from where Jess had a much-coveted place at a world famous ballet school was a good sign and she’d believed it couldn’t go wrong, that it was meant to be.
Now, looking at Nikolai as he laid down his own rules about the interview, she had serious doubts it would ever go right. He dominated the entire room they’d walked into; even though the residents’ lounge was large and spacious, he had taken command of every bit of that space. He was undoubtedly in control.
He
