Excerpt:
Excerpt from Chapter 1
“Welcome to Minsk International Airport,” the loud speaker announced as the
aircraft bounced on the runway before coming to a halt.
Cecile Lornier rubbed her ringless finger, her spirit buoyant with triumph.
“Belarus, here I come. Finally,” she whispered, her nose pressed against the
plane window for a first look at the remote little country, located south of
Russia. Not much to see. But the gloomy sight of gray sky, barren trees and
drizzling rain couldn’t dim the joy that exploded in her heart. After a
twelve-hour flight, she’d made it to Minsk. In spite of her ex-fiancé’s
dirty dealing. For the millionth time, she cursed Rob Spenser, the worthless
creep who’d snatched her promotion, almost foiled her first international
assignment and gifted her with a bleeding ulcer.
With a sigh of relief, she hung her purse on her arm and collected her hand
luggage to exit the plane. Dragging her carry-on suitcases, she proceeded up
the bumpy ramp of the jetway boarding bridge.
A group of people clustered in front of a sign affixed on the sidewall.
Russian or Belarussian? Might as well be Chinese as far as I’m concerned.
Unable to decipher the foreign script, Cecile shrugged and followed the line
of passengers through the arrival gate, toward an escalator.
As if this rickety machine could be called a mechanical escalator. The
uneven steps jolted with a grinding noise, bouncing and shuddering downward.
Cecile scanned the area for an elevator or stairway. There were none in
sight. Was she expected to negotiate this crooked roller coaster with her
luggage in hand?
Apparently, yes. The passengers were carefully holding the railing, men
helping their female companions and children as they went down. She eyed the
rattletrap contraption. Her first taste of Belarussian obsolete technology.
This was exactly why her company had been chosen to help modernize the local
environmental laboratory.
A military officer dressed in khaki passed her. Cecile’s gaze fixed on his
large back and decorated epaulets. He was tall, solid. A brick wall of a
man. The wobbly escalator didn’t seem to bother him but then he didn’t have
two suitcases hindering his movements.
Cecile bit her lip, imagining the sneer on Rob’s face if he could see her
now, hesitating so long in front of the first step of her mission. Literally
the very first step. She shifted her two carry-ons to her left hand and
followed the officer onto the jerking stairway, hoping for the best. Wishful
thinking. Her short heel caught between the steps of the damned escalator.
Gripping the railing for dear life, she let her luggage slip out of her hand
as she pitched forward.
“Welcome to Minsk…” the airport speaker roared in broken English.
A sturdy back blocked her fall. The officer turned and circled her waist
with brawny arms, welding her to his rock-hard frame. She stopped moving,
stopped thinking, stopped breathing, until the officer lowered her to stable
ground as they reached the end of the escalator.
Her head still pillowed against the muscular chest, she took a breath,
inhaling the scent of soap and spicy cologne. She was alive all right and
oddly secure in this stranger’s arms.
He said something in his native language. She tilted her head back. Her gaze
collided with deep blue eyes shadowed by long, black lashes. Still floating
in a peculiar haze, Cecile squirmed to free herself. She gasped for air to
clear her head and squeaked, “I’m sorry.”
He stared at her, a glint of interest under the scowling eyebrows. “Americanka?”
His baritone voice echoed against the metallic escalator’s crunch. “Here,
let me help you.” He cupped her elbow. “Can you walk? Are you hurt?” he
asked in fluent but accented English.
Leaning on his arm, she took two steps and exhaled with relief. “I’m fine.
Thank you.”
Her ankles felt sore, her right shoulder hurt and her breasts ached from the
impact but she was still in one piece. Breathing in uneven gulps, she eased
from the officer’s supportive arm.
He waved to the escalator. “People have to be careful. It needs repair.
There was a sign.”
“The sign? Oh, is that what it said?” Cecile bit her lip, patting her purse
with regret. The little Russian-English dictionary was right there.
“Unfortunately, fixing the airport escalator is not on our government’s
priority list and there is no lift at the gate.” A curious smile replaced
his scowl. “Is it your first visit to Belarus?”
“Yes. A business trip.” She wasn’t ready to stay here and converse with
someone she’d never met before. Disoriented, she scanned the walls in the
confined area for a sign or an arrow leading to baggage claim. People kept
coming down the escalator and pushing past her but there was no sign of John
Gordon. The Contract Director from the Chemical Division of the Department
of Defense (CDDD) had traveled in business class and disembarked before her.
Obviously, the selfish oaf hadn’t bothered to wait for her.
The officer’s eyebrows shot up in an incredulous arch as he appraised her.
“Are you traveling alone?”
Scanning the six-foot plus, movie star-type figure, she rubbed a sweaty palm
against her raincoat. “No. My companion has already exited the plane.”
Damn it, where was the welcoming committee John promised? And where had he
gone? “I appreciate your help, sir. I can manage now.” She extended a hand
to grab the two carry-ons he’d collected for her. A knowing smile curved his
mouth as he shook his head. “Let me help you to the passport control. This
way,” he instructed as he offered her his left arm for support.
Glancing at the sharp profile, she hesitated for a fraction of a second
before accepting the unspoken invitation. John had raved about the quaint
charm of Belarus and the affability of its residents. She couldn’t reject
the courteous gesture without being rude.
As her fingers curled on the sleeve at his elbow, his hard biceps contracted
under her hand. Uncomfortable warmth spread through her. She stiffened but
suppressed the urge to pull back.
He led her into an adjacent room where a musty smell mingled with the odor
of strong tobacco. She pursed her lips and wrinkled her nose in distaste.
The room bustled with passengers in long coats and round fur hats. As her
eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, she saw John emerge from a dark corner,
his burly frame swaying as he walked.
She pulled her hand from the officer’s arm and waved. John headed straight
toward her. “For heaven’s sake, where did you rush to? Couldn’t you have
waited for me?”
“Why?” He shrugged. “You always manage well enough on your own.”
Cecile rolled her eyes. “Not this time. The broken escalator at the arrival
gate threw me down and this gentleman—”
“General Fedorin, I didn’t realize we were all on the same plane.” John
pumped the officer’s hand. “It looks like you’ve already met Dr. Cecile
Lornier.”
The General? Oh, God. She had literally started her assignment on the
wrong foot.
“Dr…Lornier?”
She registered the shock spreading over the general’s face. Her throat went
dry with embarrassment. |