towards her. He’d removed his jacket and had his hands shoved into his pockets, so that the fabric of his superfine blue shirt pulled taut across a muscular chest and abdomen. Clementine’s miserable thoughts dwindled to a virtual halt. He looked powerful and it wasn’t just his size. It was the way he held himself, with tremendous confidence and that measured response to what was going on around him she had seen in action in the underpass.
But what he was giving her now was full sensual male interest. Clementine told herself she could handle men, but all her female instincts were telling her she couldn’t handle this man at all.
He was so male as to be of another species.
Big shoulders, big arms, hard thighs—long and lean and coming straight at her.
He’d crunched bones for her, broken skin, shed blood.
‘Come on, get in. I’ll take you wherever you want to go.’ He spoke abruptly, his voice deep and deliberate.
She just sat there, looking up, trying to clamber over the overwhelmed feeling to something more considered.
He lifted those big hands of his. ‘I’m a good guy. I don’t wish you any harm. You need some help, yes?’
‘Yes,’ Clementine said softly, distracted by the intensity of his green eyes.
‘Are you staying far from here?’
Clementine knew she should tell him nothing and refuse the ride. But he had helped her. He had put himself at risk for a stranger. This was a good guy. This was a very, very sexy man. This would buy her a little more time with him. And she was so tired of looking after herself. It wouldn’t hurt to accept a lift.
‘Do you know where the Australian embassy is?’
‘I’ll find it.’
And she believed he would.
Serge gave directions to his driver, watched as those long legs folded themselves into his car, slid in alongside her, observed her scoot over to put a respectable distance between them. Then she shifted forward and leant down.
She was unzipping the boots.
The shell of each boot collapsed and she tugged one stockinged foot out, then the other, revealing her long legs in those sheer pale stockings that gleamed like silk. Her activity seemed unselfconscious, as if he couldn’t possibly be interested, but of course she had to know what she was doing. She wriggled her toes and cocked a curious look at him up through her lashes.
‘Sorry, honey,’ she said. ‘They’re new, and they’re rubbing.’
She pressed her knees primly together and folded her hands in her lap, utterly ladylike.
She was incredible.
‘You’re Australian? From Sydney?’ His own voice sounded hoarse, and he gave an inward laugh at his susceptibility to this woman.
‘Melbourne.’ She smiled, her eyes not quite meeting his. It was such a subtle smile. She kept her lips pursed, as if she was keeping a secret.
If only she’d stop rubbing her knees together. The shub-shub of the fabric was highly stimulating to his imagination.
‘So far away. What are you doing in Petersburg? Business or pleasure?’
‘Both. I’m here working.’ She gave a little shrug as if it wasn’t important. Those lips parted into a more open smile. ‘But I’ve dreamed of seeing St Petersburg. It’s so romantic, so full of history.’
‘You like what you’ve seen so far?’
‘Very much.’ She gave him a sidelong look, making it clear she wasn’t talking about the city—and didn’t that just notch up the temperature in the car? She turned her head away, made a show of looking out of the window, exposing the length of her lovely pale throat, and he dwelt on the golden tendrils of silky hair tickling against her neck.
He decided to cut to the chase. ‘When do you leave?’
She met his gaze, let him see those grey eyes, darker now than when he had first seen them. ‘My contract winds up tomorrow.’
Two days. Perfect. ‘Such a shame,’ he mused.
‘What do you do?’ she ventured. ‘I mean, you must do something—you’re riding around in a limo.’ She laughed nervously. ‘You’re either rich or something else.’
He laughed low, and watched the pulse in her throat give a little throb. ‘Or something else,’ he murmured, which clearly intrigued her.
‘You’re not one of those overnight millionaires you read about, are you, honey?’
‘Nyet, sorry to disappoint you. I worked very hard for my first million.’
‘Right.’ Those slender hands fluttered in her lap. She was obviously attracted to him, but the money helped. His inner cynic gave a rueful shrug.
‘This would be the moment to ask you, if you’re not otherwise engaged, to join me for dinner tonight.’
He actually saw her swallow. She moistened her lower lip, dragging his attention to the contours of her mouth. She looked at him through her lashes. ‘You work fast. I’ll give you that.’
‘You haven’t given me much time.’
‘Oh, I can’t imagine that stopping you.’
‘Nothing much does, kisa.’
She gave a negligent little shrug, a naughty sparkle in her grey eyes. ‘Okay, Slugger, we’ll see how you do.’
A challenge—and didn’t he just relish that?
Lifting his head above the pleasure horizon, he made a quick judgement call. This girl clearly liked to play games, however guarded she was being now. It was reasonable to wonder how many other men she’d played them with.
He hesitated.
Did it matter?
This was his favourite type of female. A woman with a sparkle in her eyes and a willingness to just enjoy herself. No ties, no drama. No happy-ever-afters.
This girl was clearly that woman.
Libido humming nicely, he gave her body a comprehensive, less polite once-over. In response she surprised him. Her hands knotted up in her lap and her shoulders tensed. That little Mona Lisa smile flickered and vanished. She turned the lights down low on her eyes with those thick lashes.
Chastened, he put a clamp on his imagination.
It was a reminder that he needed to be kind and considerate and gentlemanly—as he would be with any other woman.
And look after her until she waved goodbye in a few days’ time.
She was going on a date with the Cossack.
Clementine’s imagination
