Excerpt:
Excerpt from Chapter 3:
Cecile surveyed the elegant place. A mirrored sphere flickered with silver
glints over the small dance floor at the end of the room. On a raised
podium, a gorgeous singer with long golden hair sang while swaying to soft
piano music played by a tuxedo-clad man.
The drinks came. They clinked their glasses, mingling the cheers and
nazhtrovias.
Cecile struggled to concentrate on the conversation. Not an easy task with
the general sitting so close beside her.
“It’s a pleasure to have you with us. I hope you’ll enjoy your stay in
Minsk,” the general said, his gaze warming her cheeks like a soft caress.
“I’m sure we will. You have welcomed us with incredible hospitality. We
appreciate your kindness,” she replied with a smile.
Elena asked through her husband if Cecile’s fall on the escalator had left
any lasting bruises.
No lasting bruise but it was a fall Cecile wouldn’t forget as long as she
lived. She smiled at Nicolai’s wife. “Thank you for your concern. The
general caught me just in time. I felt better right away.” Oh my God.
What had she said? She hoped no one thought she enjoyed being in his arms.
Cecile glanced around furtively. While the others drank and talked, the
general’s lips curled to one side. He hadn’t missed the possible double
meaning.
Another wave of heat spread over her throat. Dang, there was definitely a
lasting bruise on her senses. She took off her jacket and smoothed her
skirt. As dinner was served, she fiddled with a lump of bread and avoided
his penetrating gaze. She ate little, preferring the potato pancakes to the
greasy meat. With the strong presence beside her, a different hunger built
in the pit of her stomach. Suddenly thirsty, she gulped her beer and forced
herself to participate in the general conversation.
Nicolai stood and tugged at his wife’s hand. “Please, excuse us. I want to
dance with Elena. We don’t often enjoy the luxury of such expensive places.”
John followed suit and pulled Tania to her feet. “Come on. Let me shake my
old legs.”
Cecile remained at her place. She took a piece of bread and balled it
between her fingers. No one had mentioned dancing as part of this evening.
She felt the general’s gaze on her. No please. Don’t ask. She was
here to work. Only to work.
The general stood and extended an open palm “May I have the honor?” She
placed her hand in his and steadied her wobbly knees.
He swept her away from their table, toward the dance floor. He wrapped an
arm around her waist, branding her with his touch. Blazing heat penetrated
through the silk of her blouse. They mingled with the crowd, gliding around.
Cecile floated on a cloud. She was back in his arms. And not by accident,
this time. At first, they moved slowly to the music, then he brought her
closer and her body recognized with pleasure the rock-hard chest. He
tightened his hold. She almost groaned, her senses focused on the taut
biceps pressing on her side. “Crassiva,” he whispered in her ear.
“Pardon?”
“You’re so lovely, Cecile. Crassiva means pretty.”
“General, please. I’m here on business.”
“I’m not about to forget it. But can’t you relax and enjoy the evening, the
soft music?”
“I am enjoying myself. Really, your hospitality is amazing.”
“Our hospitality?” He shook his head. “Cecile can’t you stop being the
Program Manager for a few hours? I’m trying to talk to you, to the beautiful
woman I’m dancing with. Is it an unforgivable mistake?” His breath fanned
her earlobe. She had trouble making sense of his words. Was it the result of
the morning’s vodka, the beer she drank a moment ago, or the strong arms
holding her pressed against his muscled chest? “Tonight we should have fun.
Tomorrow we will work.” He smiled at her, such a beguiling smile that she
sighed. Her legs turned into jelly and her insides melted into delicious,
hot syrup.
“Tomorrow?” she repeated in a whisper. Tonight she wanted to have fun, to
forget Rob, her project and the many obstacles waiting for her. Her hand
slipped from his shoulder and curled around his neck.
“Yes. Tonight we celebrate, we drink and we dance.” The charm and sultry
sexiness in his voice held her motionless. His finger traced a line along
her forehead, circled her cheek and swept over her lips in a gentle caress.
She guessed he expected her to raise her business flag, to hide behind the
contract and their professional relationship.
For the life of her, Cecile couldn’t pull back. She wanted to feel—just one
more time—the strength of powerful arms holding her against the shelter of
his solid chest. Linking her fingers around his neck, she leaned against the
muscled torso and relaxed, secure in his embrace.
He whirled around and danced them to the darkest corner of the dance floor.
His lips slid from her temple to her closed eyelids, brushed her cheek and
rested for a fleeting second achingly close to her mouth. Her breath caught
in her throat as she waited and yearned for his kiss. But he pressed his
cheek on top of her head and held her tightly. She swallowed a frustrated
groan as she listened to the comforting thump of his heart and hung on his
neck, almost forgetting to dance.
After a couple of dances, she thought she recognized an old classical music.
“Is it by any chance Strangers in the Night?”
“I don’t know the name in English but it’s your Frank Sinatra’s famous song.
Do you like it?”
“Well it’s kind of old.”
“Maybe old but special for us now. We are still strangers tonight. I’ll sing
it for you in Russian.” Cecile forgot the goal of her trip and the
illustrious identity of her companion as he hummed the classic melody with
words she didn’t understand but felt deep in her heart. |