need and cutting yourself off from men all because of that worthless Paul Andersen. Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’m not criticizing you, Caro. I’m commiserating. God knows, I haven’t done any better myself in the love department,” Kyle stated glumly. “I need to get out less, and you need to get out more—and that’s a fact. I noticed Nick Valkov seemed quite taken with you this morning.”
At his words, Caroline felt a blush once more creeping up to stain her cheeks. She frowned at her cousin censoriously. “That’s ridiculous! Why, the man’s as big a playboy as you, Kyle. He could have any woman he wanted. Why should he be interested in me?”
“Well, if you’d ever take off those stupid glasses, let down your hair and look in the mirror once in a while, Caro, you’d know. You’re as beautiful as Allie, damn it! You could be one of Fortune’s Fabulous Faces yourself.”
“Oh, Kyle, that’s so sweet of you to say so. But you know it’s not true.”
“The hell it isn’t. Why, if you weren’t my cousin, I’d be tempted myself.” He flashed her the devastating grin that had charmed and then broken so many hearts. “There’s always something about an ice queen that makes a man want to melt her. Trust me. Nick Valkov isn’t any exception. I know the signs. He’s interested in taking up the challenge, all right.” Kyle stood, tossing his jacket carelessly over his shoulder and jamming one hand into his trouser pocket. Then he leaned across her desk to kiss her lightly on the cheek. “So why don’t you loosen up, Caro? Give the man a chance. And don’t feel bad about firing me. You’ve done me a favor. Take care of yourself—and I’ll see you around.” Whistling cheerfully, he sauntered from her office, leaving her staring after him, dwelling on his words.
After a long moment, Caroline shook her head, resolutely forcing herself from her reverie. Kyle was crazy. Nick Valkov had deliberately taunted her this morning only to amuse himself at her expense. He had no real interest whatsoever in her.
Absolutely none.
Two
I t was after dark when Nick Valkov pulled into the driveway of his large, elegant house situated on one of the beautiful lakes beyond Minneapolis’s city limits. Pressing the button of the remote control to open one of the three doors, he parked his Mercedes-Benz in the garage. Then he went inside, taking his attaché with him. It contained paperwork from the office, along with his mail, which he had retrieved a few moments ago from his mailbox.
In the great room, whose floor-to-ceiling windows provided a panoramic view of the lake beyond, Nick stripped off his heavy wool topcoat, leather gloves, suit jacket and tie, carelessly tossing them over a chair. Then he loosened his collar and poured himself a shot of Stolichnaya vodka from the Waterford crystal decanter on the bar. Sipping the drink, he settled into one of the comfortable overstuffed chairs and flipped open his briefcase. Withdrawing his mail, he began to sort through it, pitching to one side what was obviously junk and placing the rest into a pile.
It was when he came to an envelope bearing the return address of the Immigration and Naturalization Service that he paused, tearing it open to read the tersely worded letter inside. He was so stunned by its contents that at first he couldn’t believe his eyes. He swore softly, stricken.
“No, this just can’t be right! There must be some mistake somewhere!” he insisted to himself. Both anger and fear roiled inside him as he mentally watched all his hopes, dreams and plans for the future going up in smoke, vanishing as though they had never been.
He had been declared an undesirable alien and was going to be deported from the United States! Sent back to Russia! He was to surrender himself to the nearest INS office, bringing his passport and green card with him. These instructions were followed by stern warnings of the legal measures that would be taken against him if he disobeyed.
Nick was devastated. Although the letter did not precisely come right out and say so, it hinted that he had been identified as a former KGB agent—which wasn’t true in the least. The very idea was ridiculous! He was a chemist—and a damned good one—not a spy! Still, if he were to remain in the United States, he had no doubt that he was, at the very least, facing a protracted, expensive legal battle to prove himself innocent of whatever accusations had been made against him.
The notion of returning to his own country held no appeal whatsoever. Ever since the breakup of the Soviet Union, Russia had been in a state of political turmoil. Nick did miss his homeland—which was why Minnesota, with all its wintry frozen lakes and snowy countryside—had drawn him to settle in the Twin Cities area. But he did not in the least long for the constant upheaval born of the ideological struggles of Russia’s government officials.
Reaching for the telephone, Nick picked up the receiver and punched in the number of Kate Fortune’s private line at the office. He let the telephone ring endlessly, but there was no response, so he finally tried her at home. When she answered, he spoke, relieved to have caught her.
“Kate? It’s Nick Valkov. I’m sorry to disturb you at home, but something important has come up, which I thought you would want to know about right away. Is this a good time to talk—or do you have plans for the evening?”
“Actually, Sterling and I were just about to have a quiet dinner here at home, but if necessary, I can have the housekeeper set it back for a while.
“Hold on a minute, Nick,” she continued briskly, “while I let Sterling know, so he can give instructions to Mrs. Brant.” She placed her hand over the receiver to muffle the sound of her calling out to Sterling. Then she spoke to Nick again. “Now, why don’t you tell me what’s up?”
He explained about the letter from the INS, finishing with, “Needless to say, I’m very upset about all this, Kate—not to mention just utterly baffled. I simply can’t imagine where the INS might have got the idea that I was a former KGB agent, for heaven’s sake! Of course, I did do chemical research and development for the government—but it was never anything of a sensitive nature. I was then and still am staunchly against chemical warfare, and I have never assisted nor would I ever assist any government in developing anything of that sort. Even so, I suppose it’s possible somebody’s got the mistaken notion that I aided and abetted my homeland in that capacity and somehow confused my work with some secretive KGB operation.
“At any rate, because of my involvement with Fabulous Face and its importance to you, I thought I’d better let you know about all this immediately, Kate.” Nick sighed heavily as, reaching for his discarded suit jacket, he withdrew a pack of Player’s cigarettes from the inside pocket. Shaking one out, he lit up, inhaling deeply, then blowing a cloud of smoke into the air.
“I thought you were going to quit smoking,” Kate scolded like a mother hen as she heard the sound of his exhaled breath.
“Well, I was. I mean…I am. But damn it, Kate! This news from the INS has put me under a real strain. I don’t want to go back to Russia—and I certainly don’t want to lose my position at Fortune Cosmetics because I’m so involved in a legal battle that I can’t do my job!”
“You don’t need to worry about that, Nick. We’re so close now to completing my secret youth formula that you can be assured I don’t intend to let you escape from Fortune Cosmetics. We’ll just have to find some way of circumventing the INS, that’s all.
“Sterling!” Kate called, one hand muffling the receiver again. “Pick up the extension, so you can get in on this discussion. The INS thinks Nick’s a former KGB agent, and they’re attempting to deport him—and I’m not going to lose my foremost chemist. Not only is he too valuable to the company, but I just can’t let him
