Bedded by Her Bodyguard

by

Kristi Avalon

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product

of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events,

locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Cover Design: Kim Van Meter

Editor: Jen Fitzgerald

Bedded by Her Bodyguard, Copyright © 2013 Kristi Avalon. All rights reserved,

including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
About the Author

Chapter 1

Mindy Sanders woke to find her forehead pressed against hot male skin.

The clean scents of soap and nautical themed cologne enveloped her. Oh, God…she

must have fallen asleep and accidentally snuggled into the cozy spot between her travel

companion’s warm neck and broad shoulder.

Snapping straight in the airplane seat, she quickly checked the corners of her mouth

for dampness. God forbid she’d drooled on the man’s expensive suit. Although she

couldn’t possibly be the first woman to drool over Isaac Atlas. Having endured the New

York City media circuit during her mother’s parties where attractive men were in

abundance, she’d never met a guy so completely secure in himself. He had every reason

to be—with those pitch black eyes that absorbed a woman until she forgot her own

name. And the way he carried himself, with innate confidence that made lesser men

squirm. He walked into a room and people paused just to notice him. A spectacular

specimen of the male species, he drew appreciation wherever he went.

“Good morning.” Isaac’s sexy grin compounded her embarrassment.

Her cheeks burned. “Sorry about that.”

“I didn’t mind.” When his dark gaze lingered on her for a long unsettling moment, her

insides tightened with a spiral of attraction. Her mouth parted, and his glance dropped to

focus on her lips. An electric awareness sizzled between them, and she wondered if the

heat in his eyes was real or if she was imagining things.

A flight attendant stopped by, leaning a little too close as she rested her hand on his

shoulder, her breasts directly in his line of sight. Apparently no woman was immune to his

swarthy good looks. The brunette had a lilting French accent when she asked him, “May I

freshen your beverage?”

“No, I’m fine.” He turned to Mindy. “Need anything?”

“A bottled water would be great.”

The attendant barely acknowledged her request. “Please let me know if you need

anything, Monsieur Atlas. I am at your service.”

“Thanks, I will.” Unaffected by her attention, he casually returned to reading a case

study in the low lights of the cabin. The study lay on top of a stack of printed pages and

news articles detailing the Markov’s business. Probably refining his sales pitch that was

already stellar.

Whereas she was going into this international sales attempt completely blind. That

kind of pressure had never made her mother buckle. On the contrary, Helen Sanders

thrived when tensions were high. Mindy wished she could be half the professional

barracuda her mother was. She tried to think back on suggestions Helen had offered her

when she’d graduated from NYU and entered the working world as a public relations

specialist. The only one that sprang to mind was Helen’s sharp voice saying, “Take ‘em by

the balls and don’t let go until you get the answer you want.”

Well, that advice wouldn’t help in her current situation. In fact, when she’d told Helen

she was leaving for Russia on a business trip with her company’s director of sales, she

learned her mother had been a young journalist reporting on international politics toward

the end of the Cold War. Her mother had been extradited from Russia for her big mouth,

relentless tenacity, and snooping behind the Iron Curtain. Mindy hoped Helen’s

brazenness wouldn’t impact her and Isaac entering the country. That would be the worst

case scenario. The name association with her mother was often a curse more than a

blessing, and she always felt people were comparing her to Helen in every aspect,

especially her media success. Or lack thereof.

When the plane suddenly bucked, she gripped the armrests. Isaac’s soda leaped out

of the cup and ice scattered. She tossed him a stack of napkins leftover from dinner and

helped him mop up the mess before it spilled onto his suit. Their fingers brushed in

passing, and she noticed his long tanned fingers looked strong and competent compared

to her small pale trembling hands. The airplane shook and bounced in the air three times,

then settled as they dipped lower in the sky.

“I hate turbulence.” It set her teeth on edge. “I’ve never spent fourteen hours straight

on a plane in my life, and I’m so ready to land.”

“I know it’s a long flight.” A worry line formed between the bold, dark slashes of his

eyebrows as his glance swept over her face. “I should’ve taken that into consideration

when I booked the dinner meeting for tonight. A casual get-to-know-you, but still you

can’t be expected to be at the top of your game after twenty seven hours of travel.”

“As long as I don’t feel like I’m on a rollercoaster thirty thousand feet in the air, I’ll be

okay.”

Sliding up the oval shade, she glanced out the window. Sheets of snow created a

whiteout, and she couldn’t see a thing. She figured the northern swath of the country

stayed chilly throughout the year, but squalls? “How can it be snowing in the middle of

October?”

He checked his gold watch. “We’re flying over a mountain range right now. Should be

in the clear soon, landing in an hour.”

Skeptical of his accuracy, she eyed him. “How can you tell the time when Russia has

like ten time zones?”

“Eleven. And I’ve made this trip once or twice,” he said dryly.

Of course. From what she remembered in passing conversation, his parents had

emigrated from Russia, though his inflection held no trace of an accent. “When did you

come to the States?”

“My family moved to the U.S. when I was six.” That explained his lack of an accent.

“We were the last of the relatives to make the trek. My aunts and uncles and cousins had

already established themselves in Las Vegas by the time we joined them.”

Established was a serious understatement of his large family’s vast wealth. There

were enough Atlases to form their own genetic map. They owned three mammoth

casinos and numerous other businesses in Sin City. The immigrant work ethic had paid off

for them, since they made the average concept of the American Dream look like checkers

while they’d mastered chess.

Isaac’s familiarity with his motherland and his impressive salesmanship made him the

perfect candidate to pitch Soren Security’s bodyguard services to their first international

client. She, on the other hand, had zero experience in this realm.

She twisted her hands in her lap. “I’m nervous about the dinner meeting.”

Compassion softened his intense black eyes. “Don’t be. Cade Soren has faith in you.

So do I.”

A nervous swallow stuck in her throat. “I wish I had your talent. You could sell

swampland to an alligator. And then make a pair of boots out of him.”

He gave a low, sexy laugh. “Let’s hope the Markovs are as easy as alligators. Because

their teeth are just as sharp and their bite of the precious metals market is impressive.”

That didn’t bode well for her lack of experience. What did she know about precious

metals? Or how personal security bodyguards could help their bottom line or peace of

mind? The only item she knew enough about to discuss was the prototype of their new

SOS technology. Her shoulders sank as she tried to picture the sort of businessmen they’d

encounter based on Isaac’s analogy.

Not the type of person who handled cutthroat situations very well, she tended to panic

or babble incessantly or simply shut down in the face of confrontation. Those were the

times she wished she’d inherited Helen’s toughness and guts, instead of her father’s mild-

mannered repute. Helen Sanders thrived when tensions were at their highest. Her mother

hadn’t received the moniker Helen “Slanders” for no reason. Some days, Mindy wished

she could be half the woman her mother was.

As the plane descended and then thumped onto its landing gear, a swirl of

apprehension became a tornado of doubt inside her. By the time they entered the long

line for customs, worry became a constant companion.

There in the customs line, her worst case scenario—the nightmare she feared—came

true.

Singled out from the crowd, she watched with growing concern as two unfriendly

looking men in uniforms approached her. She tugged on the sleeve of Isaac’s suit coat.

“Isaac…”

Dragging his attention from the pamphlet in his hand, he leaned into her, bent his

head and pressed his left palm against her back. “What is it?”

Neither his touch nor his attentiveness could warm the frigidness coalescing inside

her. “This doesn’t look good. They’re coming for me.”

He blinked. “I can’t think of anything they’d hold you for—”

“Ms. Sanders.”

Oh, God. The wintry tundra of Siberia could rival the frozen marrow in her bones. At

their stony greeting, she reluctantly peered up at them. “Yes?”

In a smooth voice Isaac asked, “Can I help you gentlemen?”

They ignored him and the taller of the two addressed her. “Are you Ms. Sanders?”

I swear if this has anything to do with my mother, I’m finally going to tell her how

much she’s ruined my life. But that might require a novel. These men clearly wanted

quick, concise answers. “I’m Ms. Sanders.”

“Then you will come with us.”

“Wait.” Isaac appeared stunned. “There must be some mistake.”

“No mistake,” the pale-eyed guard said. “We will take the lady for questioning.”

They each took one of her arms and escorted her out of line, toward a series of rows

of doors with very tiny windows. Isaac pitched a fit, for which she thanked him.

Except she had no idea what he said to them, since he spoke entirely in Russian. And

she hadn’t had a chance to proclaim her innocence.

Before the guards settled her into a closet-sized room, she glanced back at Isaac.

Worry in his eyes, he mouthed, “You’ll be okay.”

Doubt tightened her chest.

Forcing a calm she didn’t feel, she sat at the metal table on a folding chair. Cold and

minimalist, the room seemed to match the demeanor of the guard who took a seat

opposite her.

A single fluorescent bulb hung from the ceiling, casting mean shadows on the guard’s

face. His pale eyes assessed her, flat and emotionless.

He held out his hand. “Your passport.”

Fingers trembling, she withdrew it from her purse and handed it to him. He peeled it

open then used a hand-held tablet to enter her information.

Frown lines bracketed his mouth. He glanced at the tablet, then at her. “This is not

you?”

Holding the device up for her to view, he pointed at the screen. Mindy saw a near-

replica mug shot of herself. Only it was Helen, eyes full of fire and conviction. “That’s not

me,” she said. “She’s my mother. I have nothing to do with her.” Her statement held with

more honesty than she cared to admit.

The guard grunted. A crackling sound caught her attention. The guard pressed a

fingertip to his earpiece and brusquely excused himself from the room. Leaving her alone,

shivering, and miserable in her confined cell.

Unable to sit still, she approached the small window. At five-foot-two in heels, she

didn’t have a hope of glimpsing anything beyond. She strained to hear Isaac’s voice, but

they must’ve ordered him away from the containment area.

A lonely, hollow sensation crept over her. But she knew Isaac wouldn’t abandon her in

a strange, foreign country where she couldn’t speak the language. While she respected

many things about him, one trait stood out in her mind. He always took responsibility for

his people. She’d seen that aspect of him in action a dozen times. If his sales team didn’t

meet their quota—a rare occurrence—he put the balance on himself. If something wasn’t

right, he went out of his way to fix it. If someone needed him, he dropped everything to

accommodate. He managed to keep the big picture in mind as an overall goal, yet he

appreciated each person’s individual needs in any given scenario.

This unexpected captivity, coming up on an hour, gave her way too much time to

think. Never a good thing for someone with the astrological sign of Pisces. People born in

March over-thought everything, desperate to find a happy medium between everyone’s

emotions. Sensing others’ emotions was what she did best. Except when it came to Isaac.

He proved a sexy enigma she couldn’t solve. She wouldn’t be surprised if he was a water

sign like her—maybe a Cancer or a Scorpio. All water signs hid their depths.

Wracking her brain, she tried to think back on her horoscope for that morning, the one

she paid too much for in exchange for a personal astrologer who sent her daily, weekly,

monthly, and yearly forecasts. Shockingly, even Helen believed in astrology, employing

her own astrologer out of L.A., even though Helen lived in New York City. Helen had once

told Mindy that President Ronald Reagan had consulted an astrologer when it came to the

most pressing matters of his presidency.

Regardless, Mindy believed in the stars and the maps they created across the sky, as

well as the traits they imbued to each individual. Yes, she could spend hours imagining

how her sign might be compatible with Isaac’s, but while that might put her mind at ease

for a while, she was growing more restless by the second. Being caged was not a

situation that settled well in her psyche.

After another ten minutes of pacing, she finally heard the lock on the door twist. Her

head snapped up. The light-eyed guard entered again, while the other one stood outside

to prevent disruption. Isaac’s voice, though muted, eased the butterflies in her stomach.

She really didn’t want to throw up in front of this guy.

Drawing from the endless reserve of anger her mother held for the opposite sex,

Mindy ignored the flutter in her stomach. “I’ve answered your questions. I’m not Helen

Sanders. You need to release me. Now. Or my company’s lawyer will show up on the next

plane and make you a fool for holding me here for no reason.”

She’d completely fabricated that, but if her mother had taught her anything, Helen

had demanded respect and wouldn’t accept anything less. At least after all this time,

Mindy could impersonate her mother’s impressive sneer. Even if she was faking it.

Miraculously, the guard backed off and swung the metal door open wide.

He swept his arm to the side. “You are free to go.”

An exhale of relief shot from her lungs. “Thank you.”

“A mistake.”

Wait. That was their big whopping explanation for separating her from the only person

in the country she knew for two hours, while bullying her into admitting something that

wasn’t true?

When they released her from the tiny dark room, she blinked to adjust to the bright

lighting in the main customs area. Isaac raced up and took her into his arms in a much-

needed hug. He slid his hand along her stiff spine, his warmth easing her tension slightly.

Then he drew back to look down at her with an expression of regret. “We’ve run into a

complication.”

She groaned. “What now?”

“Our luggage has been…misplaced.”

Dropping her forehead against the palm of her hand, she wondered if this trip would

be nothing but one disaster after another. If this went badly, she knew Cade wouldn’t

give her a second chance to represent their company. Not because Cade was a mean

boss or hugely results-oriented, but because she wanted this to work. This offered her a

wonderful opportunity to shine, to prove herself. So far, all she’d proven was her lack of

grace under pressure.

“Dang it.” Her instincts had proven right. “I should’ve known better than to travel

during Mercury Retrograde.”

“You should’ve…” Isaac shook his head as if to clear it. “Mercury what?”

“Mercury Retrograde.” She stared at him solemnly. “In astrology terms, four times a

year the planet Mercury appears to spin backwards.” Her personal astrology had warned

her about this problem. She’d thought, falsely, she might be immune to the planetary

influence. But, as always, she’d been wrong to assume the planets couldn’t dictate her

life. Time and time again, the stars aligned in ways that were uncanny. “See, Mercury is

the planet of communication. It rules all things to do with communication, including travel

plans, communications, computers, email, basically anything to do with making this sale

going through.”

“Are you serious?”

As she looked up at him, she crinkled her nose. “Well, yeah, I’m serious. Look what’s

happened so far? Absolutely everything the planet Mercury presides over has gone awry.

That’s not a coincidence. Our flights were delayed. I got detained in customs. We lost our

luggage. We’re late for our appointment with our contacts. What more proof do you

need?”

“Um. Does it matter if you don’t believe?” Isaac wasn’t big on mysticism. He preferred

the facts.

“Nope, it still hounds you. Like it has with us. You can’t escape the rotation of a

planet, Isaac.”

If he’d wanted to laugh, her last comment stopped him. Hey, who was he to disagree

with a planet’s rotation? He wasn’t an astronomer.

All he cared about was the sale.

If his partner in this deal doubted that they’d make the sale, then they would fail. It

had nothing to do with a planet reversing orbit. It had everything to do with her own self-

doubt, turning into a self-fulfilling prophesy. He’s seen this pattern play out time and time

again with his salespeople over the years.

Although she was adorable when she got all worked up, the pink stain on her cheeks

making her clear blue eyes pop. He’d never met anyone with eyes the exact color of a

cloudless sky in summer. She even smelled like summertime, like a field of untouched

wildflowers filled with daisies and lavender. Right now he wished they were surrounded

by nature and nothing else. He would lay her down on a blanket hidden by tall grasses

and taste her lips. Slide between her thighs. Make love to her for hours.

The image made him hot, made the blood flow heavy in his veins, in spite of the wind

whipping around them as he guided her out onto the platform where their personal car

was supposed to meet them. While he shouldn’t have been shocked, the weather this far

north in St. Petersburg—whereas he’d grown up closer to Moscow—in mid-October the

wind proved bracing coming in off the Baltic Sea. He looked up and down the row of

vehicles without spotting the one that had come to retrieve them to a warmer sanctuary.

Cold rain sheeted against them. Under the shallow awning the airport provided, they

received no shield from the driving rain. When he heard Mindy’s teeth chattering, he said,

“Let’s meet the car halfway.”

The relief in her eyes silently thanked him. He cupped his arm around her waist and

led her along the line of cars a brisk pace.

“How will we know which one is the right car?” she asked, her voice muted by the

pouring rain.

“There’ll be a driver with a furious expression after we kept him waiting two hours.”

When her eyes widened with concern, he winked. “Just kidding. I know the license plate.

Hard to forget the name Markov.”

“Oh. That’s helpful.”

Along the way, the wheels of her handle-extended carryon kept catching on her high

heels, tripping her up, slowing their progress down the walkway. When standard luggage

manufacturers created their products, they didn’t keep someone of Mindy’s petite stature

in mind. She wasn’t a one-size-fits-all girl. One of the things he loved about her. He

grabbed the handle from her grasp. “I’ve got this. Keep moving.”

Retracting the extended handle, he gripped the side strap of her carryon instead,

which improved their speed. Her stride gained on him slightly.

“Mindy—four cars down. Markov.”

Nodding, she made a beeline for the designated transport. The Markovs had made

every effort to Americanize his and Mindy’s experience. While Mindy scampered into the

back seat, the driver exited the vehicle and took the luggage from Isaac, stowing it in the

trunk. Isaac joined her quickly.

A smile tugged at his lips seeing her blonde hair plastered to her forehead while she

tried to swipe it back, flicking droplets onto the pale gray cushions of the town car’s

seats. She smiled up at him. “We made it.”

There she was—totally optimistic, her upbeat personality shining through even the

most distressing of situations. He wanted to kiss her, but he knew he’d have to wait. Until

a better time when they were in the right scenario, the perfect moment, when she gave

him one of those looks where her blue eyes sparkled beyond belief.

Then he’d capture her chin in his hand and lift her mouth to his. Damn, that moment

couldn’t come soon enough.

Instead of revealing his desires, he expressed his appreciation of her ability to go with

the flow, no matter how uncomfortable the past twenty seven hours had been. “You’re a

trooper. You know that?”

As she slicked her hair down her damp ponytail, she shrugged. “I’m excited about this

opportunity.” Those sweet blue eyes caught his suddenly. “Aren’t you?”

Swallowing, he nodded. “I know we’ll make this happen.”

Then her shoulders fell back. She slumped against the seat and glanced out the

window. “I hope so. I really want this first international deal to work out.”

Oh, he wanted this to work out, on so many levels beyond the professional. If he were

wired to be a complete asshole, he would’ve propositioned her right there in the back

seat of a town car in Russia. “I want this to work out, too,” he said.

Accepting the reality, he reminded himself that she had no idea about the life he’d

come from, the place he’d been. An adequate existence until the day he met her and

realized he needed to make a change. That day, adequate no longer equaled happy.

On this trip, he looked forward to putting all his sales skills to use in a way he’d looked

forward to for a long time, a real challenge. Afterward, he wanted to put his personal

skills to showing her how good they could be together. But that required more skill and

finesse than he held the energy or opportunity to claim.

As he glanced at her profile lit by streetlamps, he saw the concern bunched on her

features. He wanted more than anything to relieve her stress. “Don’t worry about the

luggage. We’ll go shopping tomorrow to replace the things you lost.”

She squirmed at the thought. “Foreign countries must have different sizes of clothes.

How will I figure out what to wear to compensate for my lost suits?”

“I’ll help you navigate the stores.” A hot fantasy rose in his mind of following Mindy

into a dressing room, and using the closet to his full advantage. Sweet God.

A stressed exhale left her lips. “I can’t exactly afford to replace my wardrobe.”

“I’ll handle it.”

“No, you can’t.” A frown formed between her tawny eyebrows. “That’s absurd.”

When he turned to her, his knee brushed against hers, and she shied away from the

contact. He said, “Let me put it to you this way. Don’t you want the right clothes to feel

at your best?”

Beside him she clicked her thumbnails together as she considered his question. “You

really are great at sales.”

“So that’s a yes?”

She sighed. “Yes. I want to feel good about myself when we meet the clients.”

“Then we’ll go shopping tomorrow and find some outfits that make you feel like a

success.”

“If you say so.”

Once again, he saw her self-doubt coming to the surface. Not good.

So, his first mission was to drape her in beauty. No problem, he’d take her to the most

impressive women’s clothing stores. His second mission was to convince her how

absolutely stunningly beautiful she was, and that would require more than a new

wardrobe.

Fortunately, he had time to consider his options. The one thing not optional by the

end of this trip was returning without her taste on his lips.

Chapter 2

“Oh, this is stunning, Isaac!”

Mindy’s profile between the spread curtains made him want to walk up to her and

glide his hand down the perfect white arc of her neck. While he set down her carryon at

the base of the bed, she gazed out the picture window of her hotel room.

“When I lived in New York City with my mother, only a handful of people we knew had

a view like this—overlooking the entire city from above.”

In St. Petersburg, from the hotel room’s vantage point, few buildings rose above eight

or ten floors at the most, very different from New York City. The view looked down over

everything. The glistening river flowing into the Baltic Sea. The gold tops of spires knifing

into the sky.

“Extraordinary,” he agreed.

As she stared out at the scene, Isaac gazed at her with excruciating longing. He stood

in her room, yet he couldn’t touch her. Her profile was lit by the ambient glow of the light

below, yet he couldn’t caress the flawless curve of her cheek.

Then she let out a tremendous yawn. “I don’t get how sitting in airports while we

waited for our flights or being on planes for the past twenty hours makes you exhausted,

but I’m ready to crash.”

Disappointed, he’d wanted to spend time talking with her in the hotel bar, but she

looked like she might fall asleep on him. Tangled in sheets in his bed, that would be hot.

But in a foreign hotel bar filled with people they didn’t know…not so much.

“Fair enough. What time do you want me to wake you up?”

She nibbled her lower lip as she thought. “I guess I can’t order a wakeup call. I

wouldn’t know what they were telling me in Russian.”

“I’ll solve your problem.” He grinned. “I’ll knock on your door. Or call you on your cell

phone in the morning.”

“I forgot about that.” She grabbed her phone and scrolled through her apps. “Here it

is, in my ‘tools’ section. I’ll set my own alarm.”

“Now you’re depriving me of the privilege of seeing you in your pajamas.”

“Isaac, that’s no help. I have no clothes, remember? I’ve got nothing to sleep in.” She

seemed terribly distressed at the thought.

“Right,” he replied dutifully. “Sorry. We’ll fix that in the morning.”

Glancing at the bed with a look of longing that had nothing to do with him, she let out

another monstrous yawn. “So you’ll wake me up if my alarm doesn’t work?”

“I will.”

“Thanks, Isaac.”

The way she said his name gave him the sensation of honey gliding down his back.

Warm, smooth and sensual. Hell, he needed to leave her room.

Now.

Before he did something completely inappropriate. Like toss her onto the bed and kiss

every inch of her body from head to toe.

“Goodnight, Mindy.” He closed the door behind him until it latched.

When he heard the sound of blankets rustling, he swallowed a groan. Tonight would

be hell on his libido. Knowing she slept naked in the room next to him.

Maybe a shot of chilled vodka was exactly what he needed, followed by a cold shower.

His fingers reluctantly slipped from her door handle, and he went in search of his native

salve.

*

The next morning, as Mindy dressed in her rumpled clothes from yesterday, she

remembered how sexy Isaac had looked last night. The stubble on his jaw. His dark

bedroom eyes. She’d wanted him to stay, but that would’ve been all sorts of trouble.

While Helen had thrived on gossip and drama, she’d always warned Mindy to keep it

out of the office. Probably good advice, but last night, even her mother might’ve had a

moment of weakness. Although Mom had experienced a late-life revelation about her

sexuality—after her parent’s divorce and a midlife crisis—Mindy suspected that Isaac

could inspire even the staunchest lesbian to consider going straight for a night. Just to

see his gorgeously muscled, tanned body naked between her thighs. She shivered and

her nipples tightened.

As she finished buttoning her blouse, she also recalled the memorable view of him in

the swimming pool at a recent company party. The way droplets of water had slid down

his big shoulders. And the unforgettable muscles defining his abs.

“Mmm-mm.” She shook her head, extracting herself from that memory. After she

tucked her blouse into her pencil skirt, she found a comb in her purse and worked the

tangles out of her hair. She and Isaac needed to work together closely during this trip.

Caving to temptation might be thrilling in the moment, but the awkward day-after would

be tough to endure. Isaac Atlas was way out of her league. She wasn’t even on the same

ball field in the same zip code.

Next she checked her phone for her daily horoscope sent via text. She opened it and

read:

The planet Virgo is in your house of Scorpio. Expect an intellectual lover to

be mysterious and romantic.

I wish, she thought longingly.

As a Pisces with Gemini rising, you thrive in social situations. Today is the

exception. Due to Mercury in retrograde, expect all things related to

communication and travel to go awry.

“Ugh, tell me something I don’t know.” She couldn’t begin to guess when their

luggage would finally arrive.

On a bright note, this is a good day to reflect on the meaningful people in

your life and express your gratitude for them. Also, today is excellent for

opening your mind to experiencing exotic locales. Explore the magic in the

world around you, and your troubles will disappear.

At least this astrologer tended to balance bad news with good. Maybe while shopping

she’d find a stellar dress to take back with her as a memory of the positive experiences

from this trip. She wished they had more time for sightseeing.

With a longing sigh, she glanced out her window at the city below. The culture and

beauty and history of this place called to her spirit. Maybe she’d convince Isaac to take a

few detours if something interesting caught her eye.

As it turned out, during their initial shopping excursion, everything drew her attention.

First, she dragged him across the cobblestone street to a museum. It boasted paintings

attributed to Russian artists like

Ivan Aivazovsky

,

Léon Bakst

, and female forerunner

Maria Bashkirtseva, followed by a Russian-French artist Alexandre Benois. She adored the

mixture of Russian classics combined with feminist artwork, as well as works of artists still

alive today.

Then she steered him into a grand cathedral, with glorious faded murals on every

wall. Then on to a darling inn that had maintained its eighteenth-century charm, from

Peter the Great. So much rich cultural heritage to be explored in so little time. She

wanted to weep at how much she was missing.

When so much splendor lay in wait for her discovery, how could she care about the

cold biting into her cheeks?

Only when she started shivering uncontrollably and her fingernails turned blue did

Isaac steer her into the nearest designer clothing store. The scent of pricey cloth

enveloped her, tinged with a hint of expensive smelling perfume. Normally, she’d never

set foot in such a place, but in this exciting international venue, she wanted to explore

everything the culture had to offer.

As she eyed the foreign labels, she drew close to him and him, “Why does this

language try to cram half the alphabet every word?”

“Prestige.”

“Oooh,” she said in a hushed response. As if she’d stepped into the presence of

foreign royalty.

Amused by her novice enthusiasm, Isaac laughed. Not at her, he wasn’t making fun of

her guile, but this was the first time he’d seen his home country through the eyes of a

tourist. “I was just kidding, sweetheart. I’ve never studied the etymology of the Russian

language.”

Apparently, his lack of etymological education didn’t concern her when she faced racks

of gorgeous garments worthy of distraction. He couldn’t blame her. This particular store

offered exceptional linens for the female form.

They passed through a set of heavy curtains drawn back by gold tassels. Instantly, a

saleswoman appeared and greeted them in Russian. Welcoming them, she asked how

she might be of assistance.

He responded in his native tongue that his lady required the latest fashion collection—

and that money was no object.

The woman’s eyes went wide. She nodded mutely and went on a dedicated hunt to

gather clothes that met his exacting standards. Yes, American dollars went far here, but

this boutique was on par with Saks Fifth Avenue in terms of quality and price. He was

glad Mindy scrunched her face when she tried to read the price tags. She didn’t need to

know the exchange for the luxurious garments stacked up in the back for her approval.

Because he’d never allow her to spend her own money in his presence. Even if she

could conceive of his net worth, she’d probably still demand to reimburse him, and he

didn’t want that argument. He simply wanted to enjoy her relaxed, confident beauty as

she accompanied him while they met their new clients.

The clerk finished gathering the ensembles, and she shuffled Mindy behind an antique

tri-fold screen. When he saw her bare feet peek out from the gap at the bottom, his

mouth went dry and his body went hard. The exact same reaction he’d experienced the

day he saw her in a bikini at the company pool party. He’d tried his damndest not to

stare, and to keep his hands to himself as they’d played pool volleyball. But his eyes and

body had been magnetized to her creamy skin and perfect proportions. Her bubbly

laughter had kept him in check, reminding him that her bright personality held the

greatest appeal. Still, his sex drive almost overrode his more noble intentions.

Like it did now when she stepped out from behind the screen. Geometrical patterns of

black and pink enhanced her curvature at her breasts, waist and hips.

Hot damn. He swallowed, trying to wet his tongue so he could form words.

“Exceptional,” he said in Russian.

Her forehead crinkled. “Is that okay?”

“Perfect.”

“Isaac, you have to feel this fabric. It’s as weightless as a slip.”

Concerned about keeping his urges in check, he reluctantly complied with her request.

Running his fingers over the silken texture, he thought of how good it would feel sliding

down her body to the floor. He dropped his hand to his side and made a fist so he didn’t

reach for her again. “Beautiful,” he murmured.

The attendant had done her job well and would receive a generous tip. The other four

ensembles were also matched to Mindy’s body to perfection. Stylish, fitted to her

proportions, and expertly put together.

In spite of Mindy’s rave reviews about the garments, Isaac suspected he enjoyed the

fashion show far more than her. The stiffness in his pants proved as much, and he shoved

his hands into his pockets to adjust himself.

Then her lilting voice drifted to him from behind the screen. “Which one should I wear

today?”

“That’s not my area of expertise,” he said with a low laugh.

“But there are too many options. I don’t know which one to choose.”

Who said anything about choosing? He’d purchase them all. “The gray dress with the

navy stripe across the middle. I liked that one.”

“Oh, good. Me, too.”

Mindy waited while the woman fastened the tedious row of cloth-covered gray buttons

that ran down the back of the dress. The rest of the options seemed too expensive and

exquisite for her payroll. She could only afford this one.

To her surprise, the clerk plucked a set of hair products and approached her, telling

her to sit down on a tufted settee. Mindy complied, unsure of what was happening.

The woman took a soft-bristled brush to her long blonde strands, adding a serum to

smooth the frizz. Then she twisted Mindy’s hair up into a loose chignon, securing the ends

with bobby pins until she looked like Cinderella about to attend the Prince’s ball.

“Wow.” She stared at herself in the mirror, slightly dazzled. Gingerly, she cupped her

hand along the perfect pouf up-do. “Thank you.”

Was this typical of the level of attention in Russian boutiques? A shame this didn’t

happen back in the States. Then again, maybe it did, but she couldn’t afford such five-star

service.

A twinge of concern tightened at the base of her neck. She wished she’d paid more

attention to how many rubles went into a dollar. Isaac had assured her American money

was all she needed during this trip. Yet she couldn’t begin to calculate in her head what

she’d have to pay on the balance of her credit card in order to afford this dress. A

rounded guestimate was the best she could do, and another dress like this would likely

send her over the limit. Yet never in her life had she worn clothes that fit like they’d been

tailored to her body before she’d walked in the door.

In spite of the unexpected pleasure of looking at herself in the mirror, she heard

Helen’s marching orders at the back of her mind. Get the lapels of that suit tailored. The

gap across your breasts draws too much attention. Why can’t you walk straight in a pencil

skirt? Enter a room like you mean business, darling, or people won’t take you seriously.

When Mindy glanced at herself in the mirror again, a smug grin crossed her lips. Well.

If Helen could see her now…

The outfitter tousled her hair, lending a little sensuality to the up-do, releasing two

shorter strands to frame her face. Then using an old-fashioned glass perfume bottle with

a bubble attached to the hose, she spritzed Mindy head to heels with a luxurious scent

that hinted at pure class with a touch of sensual intrigue.

Mindy felt like a corporate goddess who could take on the world.

“What do you think?” she asked, stepping into view and turning a circle.

Isaac’s opinion meant a lot to her. She didn’t want to be an embarrassment.

Unlike the last time she’d stepped out from behind the screen, in this instance she had

no trouble reading his expression. His eyebrows shot up and his jaw hung open.

With a slow sweep, his gaze caressed her form. Within the black fringe of his lashes,

his dark eyes sparkled with awareness…even appreciation?

Though she doubted Isaac would ever notice her as anything more than a colleague.

Maybe someday he might see her as girlfriend material. Or at least someone he’d call to

go out on a Saturday night. Or heck, she’d take a one-night stand with the sexiest man

she knew. The lust he inspired tugged at her core.

Then the heat in his eyes cooled, and the disappointed she’d grown used to returned.

Keep dreaming. She’d have better odds searching for a pot of gold at the end of a

rainbow than him suddenly noticing her as a woman, finding her attractive, and asking

her out on a date. She’s never had any luck when it came to men. The ones she wanted

didn’t want her, while she tended to be a magnet for the most socially awkward male in

the room. Such is life. The thought was followed by a resigned sigh.

Isaac cleared his throat. “I’ll call the hotel and have our driver pick us up here.”

She shrugged. “Sounds good.”

What she hadn’t expected was Isaac’s request to have every dress and suit she’d tried

on sent directly to her hotel room. She argued and pleaded with him—to no effect. He

ignored her protests and had everything boxed, bagged and ready for delivery, along with

a few important undergarments the clerk had gathered on her behalf. And footing the bill

for it all.

No matter how much she insisted she pay her part, he refused to allow her to

contribute to the cost of her new wardrobe. Every time she’d encountered Isaac and seen

how much he supported his team and went to bat for his employees, she’d never seen

this stubborn side of him. He wouldn’t even listen to reason. While she might not have

been able to afford all those dresses, that should’ve been her decision to make. Isaac

took the choice right out of her hands, charging the entire purchase on his credit card

without even consulting her.

The extent of his stubbornness proved infuriating. But he made it very clear that if she

so much as opened her wallet to pay for anything, he’d throw her entire purse away. And

he seemed pretty serious, so she decided not to test the level of his persistence.

During the hour-long car ride to their destination, she asked Isaac to share what he

knew about the precious metals industry in Russia. A lot, it turned out, as he relayed that

Russia held an enormous stake in the gold and silver. The country’s repository in that

realm far exceeded South America and even China. The country of Russia held vaster,

richer reservoir of mines, minerals, and deposits than the U.S. could even dream of.

“No wonder the Markovs want someone to like Soren Security Bodyguards to help

defend them against their rivals,” she said.

“Exactly. The Markov’s connection with their own government only goes so far. They

don’t accept trade agreements like we do in America. The United States offers numerous

advantages to owning your own business, even if your business thrives off the land.

Russia holds no such assurances. To anyone.”

Then he mentioned his family’s ties to major players in the precious metals industry,

and she wondered if that was where the famous yet mysterious Atlas fortunes had

started.

“I guess it really is all about who you know,” she said.

“Luck and timing have their place in creating success in business,” he replied. A

thoughtful expression softened the handsome angles of his face. “Hard work is seventy

percent of the equation. Knowledge is another twenty percent. But the most successful

people I know won’t hesitate to admit that fate has something to do with the other ten

percent of their success.”

“Oh, and that’s so easy?” Luck and timing, two things that seemed to elude her over

and over. “No mystical chanting or praying to the gods of fortune?”

He snorted. “No sacrificing small animals either.”

She threw her arms up. “Well, that’s a relief. No telling where we’d find one of those

nearby in a Russian city-suburb.”

He laughed, and the sound resonated along her spine. Why did everything about him

have to be so darn sexy? It really wasn’t fair.

Out of nowhere, a Helen quote jabbed at her brain. Fairness is what people beg for as

a consolation prize, when they don’t do the work required to excel.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“What? Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.”

He slanted her a look that said, If you don’t tell you me, I’ll make you .

Then her shoulders dipped. “My mother,” she said, something she’d never revealed to

anyone. “She has a saying for every situation, and they pop into my head at the strangest

times. I call them Helenisms.”

He peered at her intently. “Okay. What Helenism were you thinking about?” When she

repeated the phrase, he grinned. “I like her already. Maybe I can meet her someday.”

“You might already know her. She’s Helen Sanders, or ‘Slanders,’ as she used to be

called when she was the most cutthroat journalist of her time. Then she had a family—

well, me and my dad—and blamed us for her stymied creative flow. So she became a

lesbian, and my dad still loves her, and I’m still not good enough. And there you have it. I

can give you as many Helenisms as you can stand. They troll through my brain on a daily

basis.”

“Is she not a fascinating woman?” Isaac asked.

“Hold onto your seat. She’ll take you for an intellectual ride you’ll wish you’d never got

on in the first place.”

Isaac cocked his head. “I take it you two don’t get along.”

“An understatement,” she admitted. “We’re the two most opposite people who could

ever live under the same roof. I’m a Pisces, and she’s an Aries. They’re too close on the

zodiac. The two were never meant to coexist, believe me.”

“So you really take this astrology stuff seriously.”

She folded her arms across her stomach. “You can make fun of me. Most people do.”

“I’m not most people,” he said. Potent enough that she dared to sneak a glance at

him. She found his gaze direct and sincere.

“Thank you. For respecting me.”

He reached across the seat and cupped her chin. “I’ll always respect you, sweetheart.”

The touch of Isaac’s hand and his thoughtful words sent a wave of shock through her,

followed by a swell of warmth in her abdomen. She wanted to rest her fingers over his, to

encourage the unexpected affection, but he dropped his hand before she could. A little

thrown by this new intimacy, she took a moment to remember the thread of their

conversation. Oh, right. Helen. “Helen Sanders is a featured guest on numerous morning

talk shows, a staple on cable news channels, and she’s a Dear Abby on four newspapers.”

“No kidding? Sure, I’ve heard of her.”

“Some days I wish I was kidding.” An old sense of inadequacy twisted her nerves into

knots. “Few people see the resemblance between me and my mother. She’s quite

famous, and I’m not. I’m nothing like her, though sometimes I wish I could be.”

Reaching out, he tucked a lock of hair behind her. “You have many gifts and talents.

You don’t need to be like anyone else.” A mesmerizing look swirled in his dark eyes. “I

think you’re great the way you are.”

He did?

The possibility made her brain stutter. Isaac Atlas thought she had gifts and talents?

Wonder of wonders.

If he believed in her, then maybe she could help him to seal this sales deal, which she

so dearly wanted to do, as a benefit for his career and hers.

The sky had darkened to deep plum with maroon streaks along the horizon by the

time the town car pulled up in front of the restaurant where they were meeting the

Markovs. “Are we here already to meet them? My gosh, my internal clock is all screwy.”

Flicking his wrist, he nudged his shirtsleeve back and checked his watch. “Five thirty.”

That’s when she noticed for the first time that he wore his watch on his right wrist.

“You’re left-handed.”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“I never noticed that before.”

“There’s a lot you haven’t noticed about me.” His lids lowered halfway in a look of

pure seductive appeal.

A bit unsteady from the lingering effects of Isaac’s suggestive stare, she paused

before she took his hand. He helped her from the vehicle. Together they entered the

restaurant.

They checked their coats at the entryway at the front desk. Carved wooden beams

made cross-hatched patterns above them, reminding her of a similar design in an old

church they’d visited earlier that day. This structure had to be several hundred years old.

She felt like she was stepping into a medieval castle.

They passed under the cross-hatched beams and she stopped to take in the scene in

the restaurant. A whitewashed plaster interior with dark beams overhead gave it a rustic

feel. A scarred and dented wood bar ran along the entire left side of the long rectangular

room. A huge fire roared in the hearth to the right. Tables clustered haphazardly across

the slate floor, and booths ringed the outer edges.

She swore she’d walked into a scene from Indiana Jones: Raiders of the Lost Ar k. Men

hunched over pints of beer and empty shot glasses. Any minute a maniacal Nazi in a

bowler hat would demand a rare medallion, the place would catch fire, and Harrison Ford

would throw some punches.

Maybe she’d watched that movie too many Saturday nights, when she wished she’d

had better things to do with better company. Like Isaac.

Although, a stepping into an unknown bar in the middle of nowhere ought to give her

a moment’s pause. Helen had written too many articles about the women sold into the

sex slave trade in Russia not to give Mindy a few shivers.

Isaac said something to the hostess in Russian. She waved her hands and shook her

head no.

Then Isaac cupped the woman’s elbow and murmured low in her ear, flashing her the

same smile that always made Mindy’s knees go weak. Instantly, the hostess backed down

from her initial refusal and led them to circular corner booth on a raised platform

surrounded by brass railings.

Along the way, Mindy chided herself for thinking she was special. That Isaac’s

intriguing statement, there’s a lot you don’t know about me, had meant anything more

with regard to her. The same old disappointment came up cold and sharp, nicking her

pride. She’d thought maybe this outfit, or this unusual location, or something magical

about the day might’ve inspired Isaac to see her as more than a means to an end—her

impression on the Markovs sealing the deal. She wished he’d see her as a sensual

woman.

Suddenly, she didn’t care about being proper or important or relevant. All she wanted

to be was his.

Once they were seated at the booth, Isaac reached out and traced his thumb over the

groove between her eyebrows. “The frown is back.”

She shrugged. “It’s nothing.”

He folded his hands on the round table. “You keep saying that. And I keep not

believing you.”

“Believe what you want.”

“Another Helenism?”

No, she could butcher her own self-esteem just fine by herself, without her mother’s

input. “Nope.”

“Okay…why are you sitting on the edge of the booth so far away from me?”

Because being next to him made her insides quiver and her knees turn to mush. “I

want to leave room for our clients.”

“They won’t be here for another half-hour.”

“Oh. Then why are we here now?”

“I wanted to arrive early, so we’d have time to have a drink and talk.”

That had required planning and forethought. Maybe he actually did enjoy her

company. A ribbon of lust curled through her at the notion.

Hesitant initially, she decided to scoot closer to him, stopping just shy of the place

he’d patted beside him. A waiter stopped by and Isaac gave him their order in Russian.

When the waiter left, he turned to her. “I ordered you a grape ice martini. I think you’ll

like it.”

The waiter returned with their drinks with lightning speed. “Well. It seems Russians

take their alcohol very seriously.”

“For sure.” He lifted his glass of amber liquor. “Cheers to finally getting a minute alone

with you.”

She blushed. “And with you. Cheers.” One sip of her grape ice martini, and she was in

heaven. “Is this flavored vodka?”

“Top shelf. Only the best.”

“This is divine.” She took another sip, then another. “Do they have this in the States?”

“A knock-off version. What you’re drinking is the real deal, plus a splash of Cointreau

and cranberry juice for added flavor.”

“Perfect.” She had no idea what other liquor he’d said was in the drink. All she knew

was it tasted fabulous, like citrus-infused grape liquor. In a martini glass. Happy days.

When she set her glass down, he placed two fingers on the bottom rim. “Easy,

sweetheart. It’s as potent as it is good.”

Enticed by the fact that he’d called her sweetheart, she nodded and let her glass

linger on the table.

Running a long tanned finger along the stem of his glass, he said, “This is going to

sound like a pick-up line, but it’s not. Tell me more about your interest in astrology.”

She barely contained a snort. “Are you asking me what’s my sign?”

“Pretty much.” The cute expression on his face made the comment adorable versus

when other men used it as a pickup line.

“I’m a Pisces, Gemini rising. And you are…?”

“A Scorpio, I think. Don’t know much about anything rising.”

“What’s your birthday?”

“November second.”

“Yes, you’re a pure Scorpio, through and through. Actually, that makes us highly

compatible. Pisces and Scorpio are both water signs. That means we’re very emotional,

and we take things people say to heart. We both also have emotions that run far below

the surface, and we can usually intuit what other people are feeling. Which is probably

one of the reasons you’re amazing at sales.”

“Because I’m a Scorpio. Who knew?”

“Well, if you had an excellent astrologer, you’d know.”

“I don’t. So who am I, according to you?”

She held up her hands. “Hey, I’m not gifted enough to explain anyone’s psyche. I just

know a few tricks of the trade. Like that we’re both water signs. And my rising sign is

Gemini which is ruled by the planet Mercury, and as a Scorpio you’re also ruled by

Mercury.”

A sensual look stole into his dark eyes. “So what you’re saying is, we’re very

compatible.”

She couldn’t help the smile tucking into the corners of her cheek. “Yes. We’re very

compatible—according to astrology.”

Suddenly his dark eyes turned pitch black and stared at her with deep intensity. “What

if I want better proof?”

“What do you mean?” she asked, leaning forward. Hoping he’d also lean forward and

kiss her for absolutely no reason except he couldn’t stand to be away from her for

another moment. And she was dreaming.

“I want to know we’re compatible beyond a reasonable doubt,” he said, tucking his

finger beneath her chin. “If I kissed you, I’d know.”

Automatically, her chin followed the urging of his finger toward his lips. God, she’d

wanted this, hoped for this. She closed her eyes, begging for the feel of his lips against

hers.

Then a sudden heaviness thudded onto the seat beside her. She flicked her eyes

opened and sprang away from Isaac as the Markovs descended on their corner booth.

Oh, how she’d wished she could’ve known the taste of Isaac’s lips. Even for a second.

But duty called, and business was the reason they’d come to Russia in the first place.

Any desire for Isaac needed to be submerged beneath the ultimate goal of winning

the Markovs’ overall impression of a good investment. She’d do anything to make this

sale happen. Even if it meant suppressing her own desires. The sale was the most

important thing, right?

Chapter 3

Sheer boredom didn’t begin to describe Mindy’s experience with the Markovs as Isaac

proceeded to speak to them in Russian the entire night. It didn’t help that their dinner

consisted of course after course of seafood. Oyster appetizers on the half-shell, then

shrimp scampi, followed by lobster—the whole entire carcass sat on the plate in front of

her, and she could barely look the poor deceased thing with its beady eyes.

Thankfully, Isaac helped her crack the shell, and she ate the delicious meat within the

claws and tail. As the evening and the endless courses dragged on, her jet lag proved to

be her downfall, no matter much she’d slept in that day. She could barely keep herself in

the conversation, regardless of whether or not she understood a word of their discourse.

Truly, she’d tried to remain engaged. But more than once she caught herself forcing

her eyes open. Too much food and alcohol, combined with abject boredom, plus

exhaustion, equaled a bad combination.

The next thing she knew, she felt Isaac’s hand skimming across her knee and dipping

between her thighs. Hello. That would wake any woman up from a sound sleep.

Sitting up straight, she shoved his hand away. Not because she didn’t want him to

touch her, but they were in front of clients.

Suddenly off balance as she pushed at her, her elbow hit her drink and knocked it over

toward the waiter approaching the table. The young man scooted back to avoid getting

drenched and the three drinks on his tray tumbled onto the table, spilling everywhere.

“Oh, geez.” Mindy scrambled to contain the deluge, stealing everyone’s napkins to

dam up the flood.

The waiter apologized profusely, even though she’d caused the debacle. He whipped a

towel from his waist and steered the liquid over the outer edge of the table so it dripped

on the floor and not his patrons.

Isaac tugged her gently. “Mindy, sit down. Relax and let the man do his job.”

“But—”

He sent her a firm look that cut off her protest.

A mop and bucket and six towels later, the waiter had wiped clean all evidence of her

clumsiness and refreshed their drinks. Still, lingering embarrassment scalded her insides.

She couldn’t believe she’d been so careless, falling asleep and then causing a

catastrophe, in front of the men she’d traveled thousands of miles to impress. Not exactly

a shining example of Soren Security’s professionalism.

All she had left was her pitch for the new SOS security technology. One of the owners,

Adam Soren, had teamed up with the tech department to create and ingenious device.

House in a thumb drive that a person could carry discreetly at all times, the technology

encrypted within—when plugged into a USB port—sent an emergency SOS signal to a

computer at their headquarters. As soon as the computer registered the location via a

GPS satellite tracking system, a special bodyguard team was notified and dispatched to

ensure the safety of the user. It provided a subtle yet effective tool for certain clients,

when other measures of protection were unavailable.

Now, if only she could enter the conversation happening around her to pitch the

device and Soren Security’s technical capabilities beyond providing physical bodyguards

for protection.

Then in a blinding whirl, a very metrosexual male swooped down beside her. She

blinked at the unexpected addition to their meeting. His bad cologne permeated her

senses, reminding her of passing through the men’s underwear section of a department

store, where salespeople spritzed an innocent passerby with hideous musk.

The young man flicked up his collar like an 80s American icon, casting off his awful

scent. She held her hand against her mouth, pretending to cough.

“I’m Marcus Markov.” He held out his hand with great importance as if he was the

Prince of England, and she should bow down in amazement.

She shook his hand. “Hi, my name is Mindy Sanders.”

From there he wedged himself next to her and spilled his life story, the trials and

tribulations of a poor little rich boy. After another hour, he finally paused for breath long

enough for her to discuss business, the whole reason they were all meeting tonight at

this introductory dinner meeting.

“I hear your family is looking to partner with our company for bodyguards and extra

security detail.” That seemed like a good start to a business-focused conversation.

Marcus polished off his drink with a flourish. “It’s a hard way to live, you know?” He

gave a world weary sigh. “The cameras flashing in your face day and night. Tabloids

following you everywhere. But, eh, you get used to it after twenty four years.”

Marcus struck her as a very young twenty four year old. And clearly absorbed with

how the bodyguards would help him personally, versus ensuring the safety of the

company as a whole. “Have you heard about our new security technology?” she asked.

He rubbed his chin. “Yes, the SOS device. That has me intrigued. I wonder how we

can benefit from your technology. I’ve tried to bring Papa into the twenty-first century,

but he is set in his ways. He relies on a physical presence for security. I try to explain

there’s a whole digital world that can work better than the old methods.”

At least he wasn’t as dumb and useless as he’d first appeared.

“Tell me more about this SOS tracker you have,” he invited.

Mindy launched into an animated portrayal of all the ways the device could increase

security on all levels of the Markov’s empire. Riveted, Marcus lingered on her every word.

Finally she felt her confidence returning.

“This device, you have it with you? I’d like to see it, test it for myself.”

“Sure,” she said brightly, reaching for her purse. She rummaged and them rampaged

through her purse searching for the thumb drive.

Then it struck her. She’d packed the darn thing in her suitcase—her lost suitcase. She

froze in mortification. How could she have pulled such a stupid move? God, as if this

scenario couldn’t get any worse. Yet it had.

“I’m sorry, I left it in my luggage.”

Marcus’s face fell and he looked almost annoyed. “Well. That’s a shame.” He pulled

his phone out of his pocket and answered it brusquely. “Excuse me,” he said to everyone

at the table, “I have to take this call.”

He didn’t return. She glanced around and saw that the other men, including Isaac,

appeared to be wrapping up for the evening. She’d accomplished nothing. Absolutely

nothing. What a supreme failure.

The men made plans to meet again the next night to discuss more information and a

possible deal. Isaac seemed pleased as they left the restaurant and entered their

chauffeured car. On the way back to the hotel, he brought her up to speed on the

discussions he’d had in Russian with the other three Markovs. He’d made very good

progress toward the sale.

She sat quietly, nodding at the appropriate moments, congratulating him on how well

he’d done. While she inwardly berated herself for adding nothing of value whatsoever.

Depressed, she dodged raindrops into the lobby and they took the elevator to their

floor. He paused outside her door. “Everything okay?” he asked with concern in his voice.

“Fine,” she said. “Like I proved earlier, I’m just really tired.”

“Remember, I’m just on the other side of this wall. If you need anything,” he said,

pointing at the barrier separating them, “I mean anything, knock. I’ll answer.”

“Thanks.”

After she shut her door, she heard his door close, and she found herself on the other

side of the wall from where she wanted to be—next to Isaac. She walked further into her

room then realized she hadn’t left the light on or any light on for that matter. The only

illumination came from streetlights below, adding a dim gloominess to the space.

Suddenly, a meaty hand clamped over her mouth. She tried to scream but couldn’t.

She struggled. A second man approached her with menace. “Tell us where it is.”

Frantic, she shook her head. The muscular jerk holding her hostage wrenched her

neck, and she squealed in protest.

The man before her sporting a thin moustache, wearing a crimson beret, sneered at

her. “All we want is the device. Give it to us, and we’ll let you go.”

“I don’t know what you want,” she said in a pleading voice. Then she realized what

they meant. Oh, God. They wanted the SOS device, the thumb drive…and it was packed

far away from her in some lost and found storage facility. “I don’t have it.”

As her captor dropped his beefy hand, the mustached man backhanded her across the

face. “You know where it is. Tell me now, or I’ll dispose of you.”

The stinging in her cheek was nothing compared to her potential outcome as a slain

woman dumped into a trash bin in a foreign country where she knew no one. Using the

moment to her advantage, she screamed, “ISAAC!”

Within two second, she heard a fist beating at her door. “Mindy, are you okay? Answer

me, honey.”

Without regard, her captor flung her against the wall. Her head hit hard, and she

slumped down. The two escaped out the window to the fire escape.

Holding her head, she whimpered, “Isaac?”

A second later, the door crashed in. “Mindy?”

“I’m here.”

“Oh, God.” He crouched beside her, brushing her hair from her red cheek. “Oh, hell.

What happened?” It took him three seconds to figure it out. He glared at the window

where her curtains blustered. “Those sons of bitches.”

Isaac lunged for the open window and swooped down the fire escape after them. But

they had too much of a head start on him. He watched them escape down the alleyway,

knowing he had two choices. Go after them. Or go to Mindy.

Without knowledge of how Russian authorities worked, having only lived in the

country the first six years of his life, he chose Mindy. He climbed back up the fire escape

and crawled through her open window.

“Oh.” She flinched, hunching against the wall.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s me, Isaac. They can’t hurt you now.”

Approaching her on the floor, he scooped her into his arms and held her. His heart

broke as she curled against him for protection against an enemy he couldn’t slay.

“C’mon honey. Let’s go to my room.”

Her pale face contorted as grasped at his collar. “What if they come back?”

“It won’t matter once we get you to my room.”

“Wh-what about my things?” Her gaze darted around to the mess those men had

created. “They’ll come back. I know they will. They’ll destroy everything.”

Considering the recent incident, he could understand her attachment to the few

familiar items that gave her comfort, via her carryon. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll get your

things. From now on, you’ll stay in my room. With me.”

Chapter 4

Clearly in shock, Mindy looked around her room as if the shadows would come alive

and strike her. He needed to reassure her before he uprooted her from the space. “Sit

down, sweetheart. You’re shaking.”

Though she took a step toward the bed, her hands seemed unable to let go of his

shirt.

Clutching her tight, he moved with her to the edge of the mattress and sat down with

her. He smoothed a hand down her hair, loose and tangled from the encounter with the

thieves. “You’ll be all right. Take a deep breath.”

The air she inhaled sounded like a cross between a gasp and a sob.

It wrung his heart. “Did they say what they wanted? Why they were here? Could you

understand them at all?”

Slowly she lifted her shell-shocked gaze to him. He hated seeing fear in those

innocent pastel eyes. “They wanted the security device.”

“The SOS thumb drive?”

As she nodded, a tear shook loose from her lashes.

“How the hell would anyone else know about it?” he muttered more to himself than to

her.

Two reasons struck him. Either the Markovs were shady and they wanted to steal the

technology instead of paying for it. Or a rival with a grudge had learned of their security

alliance and planned to one-up the Markovs by getting their hands on the device first. A

third possibility left a bad taste in his mouth—a personal connection higher up in the

Markov crew was stabbing them in the back and using a vulnerable woman as a means to

an end. Possibly one of the men who’d been at the table tonight.

Come to think of it, Marcus had been talking with Mindy much of the night until she

revealed she didn’t have the device on her. Soon after, he’d left the table to take a phone

call. To take one—or to make one updating a third party to look for the device in her

room?

This deal concerned him more by the minute. Except his family had vouched for the

Markovs, had put Isaac in touch with them. While his extended family had its share of

spats and disagreements, they were a tight group. No one would set Isaac up like this.

Not knowingly, anyway.

“Sit tight,” he said and reached across her for the phone on the nightstand. He dialed

the front desk and instructed them to cancel her room, because for the remainder of their

stay she’d been sharing his. When the concierge asked if anything was wrong, Isaac laid

into the guy for the hotel’s crap security then slammed the phone in its cradle.

He gave his head a shake to dislodge the sharp anger clawing him.

“Did they call the police?” she asked.

“No,” he said with a sigh. “Attempted robbery won’t be high on the politsia’s list of

priorities. We might not want to get the authorities involved when we’re leaving in a few

days. That could piss off some bad people, depending on how deep this goes, and I don’t

want the situation to get worse.”

“Worse?” Her tone filled with dismay.

“For now we’ll stay together. Let’s grab your stuff and move you into my room.”

The tawny wings of her eyebrows lifted. “You want me to stay with you?”

“I want you safe. That’s about our only option.”

Her face fell. “I see.” Then she shrugged. “I guess that makes sense.”

When she seemed unsure about the idea, he sighed. The scenario would be a lot

harder on him than her. Proving his point, his cock hardened at the idea of her lying in

bed next to him. His hands begging him to caress her creamy skin. Her scent on his

sheets tormenting him. Her made-for-sex body fraying every thread of restraint he

possessed.

Misery. That’s what he had to look forward to all night. Sleepless, restless longing that

he couldn’t do anything about. She’d just endured an assault. She needed the security of

his presence, knowing he would protect her from anyone who dared to cross him. She

didn’t need to know he also had to protect her from himself and the sexual thoughts

chasing through his mind.

“Okay, sweetheart. Time to get you out of here. In case they’re stupid enough to

come back and try again.”

That got her moving. She rose and went to the bathroom to collect her things. He

righted a lamp, straightened a picture frame, and plucked up clothes strewn across the

floor from the thieves’ rampage.

God, she must’ve been terrified. Caught completely off-guard, subjected to a rough

pat-down and physical threats against her life if she didn’t give them what they wanted.

Some colorful Russian phrases flashed in his mind to describe the cowardly bastards

who’d attack a small, sweet, unsuspecting woman to serve their greed. Fury frosted his

veins while he finished packing her things in her suitcase.

“Ready,” she said, holding a zebra-striped bag against her stomach. He zipped the

suitcase, settled his arm around her and took her to his room.

When he held the door open and she walked inside, Mindy felt her limbs go weak with

exhaustion. She still wasn’t used to the time difference. The robbers holding her at

knifepoint hadn’t helped her ragged state. Although, another reason for her limpness was

an overwhelming sense of relief.

With Isaac she felt completely safe, his secure presence a calming wave that washed

over her. His signature nautical scent filled the room, grounding her, easing her nerves

and fears like the peace that came when standing beside the ocean, sinking her toes into

warm sand while the tide swirled around her ankles. A moment of heaven on earth.

He helped her set up in his room, putting her zebra bag on a glass shelf in the

bathroom, hanging up her dresses in the mirrored closet, placing her camisoles and bras

and panties in the top dresser drawer next to his underwear. The experience was

startlingly intimate.

After depositing her empty suitcase on a folding luggage rack near the bed, he faced

her and ran a hand through his hair. “If it’s okay, I’m going to take a quick shower. Make

yourself at home.”

“Thanks.” She watched him disappear behind the bathroom door that he left ajar.

Probably to lessen the distance between them so she didn’t feel shut out or closed off

from him. Or so he could hear if there was a commotion in the room if the burglars

returned.

The instinct to protect seemed to come naturally to him. She’d watched him prove

that at work when he interacted with his sales team. If any of the owners questioned one

of his own, he stepped in and shouldered the responsibility. He was good at intuiting

people’s needs, taking subtle but swift action to ensure that at the end of the day

everyone left the workplace happy, knowing their sales director was on their side.

Someone who always had your back—that was Isaac. True and loyal and protective to

the core. Everything she’d always admired and looked for in a man.

The tightness in her chest became less about her nerves and shifted into longing. She

wished for some way to cross the professional divide that separated them. The two of

them had always worked brilliantly together, and she wondered if that easy balance

would shift to a personal level.

Tired and worn raw by everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours,

she ached to be held by him. To know the strength of his arms around her, secure and

cared for by a man she trusted and adored. Holding her close while kissing her lips in a

slow, soft exploration. Stroking his broad hands over her body. Parting her thighs and

settling his hips against hers.

Sucking in a sharp breath, she heard the shower shut off. She rushed to the top

dresser drawer to retrieve a cami to sleep in, wanting to avoid any awkward moments

half undressed. Except she couldn’t figure out a way to undo the long row of buttons

down her back without help. “Dang it.”

Isaac whipped open the door and a swirl of steam followed him. “What happened?

What’s wrong?”

The sight of Isaac wearing only a towel around his hips made the marrow in her bones

turn to mush. At the same time, a heaviness filled her abdomen and a lightness filled her

head. Openly staring, she absorbed the glorious sight of him. The sharp angles of his

freshly shaven jaw. The damp black hair curling over his forehead. The stark hills and

valleys of muscle in his torso. The rapid rise and fall of his hair-dusted chest. The breadth

of his shoulders rounded with perfect symmetry. The powerful strength of his arms,

tensed and ready to avenge whatever had done her wrong.

Pushing words past her dry throat, she managed to say, “Nothing urgent, though I

could use your help. I can’t unbutton my dress.”

The tightness in his shoulders eased. “Yeah, sure. I’ll be right out.”

Two minutes later he exited the bathroom smelling like lotion that matched his

cologne, wearing a pair of boxer-briefs that left little to her imagination and a worn t-shirt

that looked soft and inviting. If she couldn’t snuggle with him, maybe he’d let her borrow

just his shirt. Longing washed through her again, and her fingers curled into fists to keep

from reaching for him.

When he approached her, she turned, swept her hair to the side, and pointed to her

back. “I can’t reach the buttons.”

His low laugh caressed her neck where she’d pulled her hair away. “I can see how that

would be a problem.”

Apparently, she hadn’t done a thorough job of removing some strands because his

strong fingers touched the nape of her neck, sliding into her hair, combing it over her

right shoulder. She locked her knees to keep from swooning backward against his chest.

The whisper of his touch on her skin as he unfastened the row of buttons sent luscious

shivers cascading over her. He smelled of soap and clean male essence. Her toes curled

in her high heels. She kicked off her shoes to plant her feet more firmly on the carpet.

She might embarrass herself by turning and melting into his arms uninvited.

At the base of her spine, the gentle pressure of his hands fell away. “Thanks for your

help,” she said.

“Any time.” Instead of taking her in his arms like she dearly wanted him to, he

stepped back and moved to the other side of the bed. “Hey, any chance you have a nail

file I can use?”

Perplexed, she glanced over her shoulder. He stood with his back to her offering a

measure of privacy. It seemed like an odd time to attend to nail hygiene. And what guy

ever used a nail file? She shrugged. “Look in my makeup case on the glass shelf.”

He disappeared into the bathroom.

Seizing the moment, she discarded the gray dress he’d bought for her and pulled on

her flesh-colored camisole, since she had nothing else to wear to bed. She caught a

glimpse of herself in the mirror and saw her nipples clearly through the thin fabric.

The second she heard the bathroom door squeak, she lunged under the sheets,

pulling them up to her armpits. She hadn’t dated all that much, and she’d never felt

terribly secure in her own skin. If they ever found themselves in bed together, she’d

rather he explored her body in the dark under the covers, before he saw her parading

around in her underwear and decided he wasn’t interested in what was underneath.

“Fingernail emergency?” she asked.

A sound of amusement came from his throat. “No, but this will work in a pinch. It’s for

the door.”

“Did it give you a splinter?”

He chuckled. “It’s an old trick I learned when I bought my first car lot. More like a

junkyard, to be honest. It wasn’t in the best part of town. Sat vacant for half a year

before I got to it, and chop shop pickers had helped themselves to an all-you-can-steal

buffet of car parts. I slept in the office onsite for the first three months to catch them in

the act. One night they decided to try and steal my cash drawer. I think I sent two of

them to the hospital. Served them right. So because I couldn’t afford a real alarm system,

I bought bells for the front door and improvised my own alert system inside where I

slept.”

“Why did you buy a junkyard?” That seemed beneath his family pedigree.

He shrugged. “I’m an Atlas. It’s mandatory we own our own business by the time

we’re twenty-one.”

Well, that was one way to instill the entrepreneurial spirit in the offspring of one of

the wealthiest families in America. “But why work, when your whole family is richer than

Donald Trump?”

He glanced at her with a stupefied expression as if the thought had never occurred to

him. “Why wouldn’t I work?”

A self-made man to the core, she thought with appreciation. She respected that he’d

chosen to work his way up in sales—from a junkyard to the largest Harley-Davidson

dealership in Nevada—instead of riding on his family’s lucrative coattails.

Intrigued, she watched him open the door of their room, position the nail file at the

edge of the top hinge, and then close the door with careful precision. “When you sold

your dealership, why didn’t you retire, rather than coming to Denver to work for Soren

Security?”

“There’s a Russian saying that translates to something like, ‘work until you drop.’ If

you’re asking why I decided to make the shift to more of a desk job, I was looking for a

change, a new challenge. Selling vehicles didn’t give me that anymore. My brother Jake

made the transition first, buying the Sorens’ bounty hunter business. He inspired me,

made me reevaluate some things. That’s how I ended up there, and here, with you.”

What Isaac didn’t tell her was that when the Sorens offered him a job as their sales

director, and he’d shown up in Denver to discuss the option, he’d met Mindy. Everything

about her had set off fireworks inside him. He’d made his choice within the hour. But that

was something couples talked about once their relationship was established. One of

those stories of fate, lightning striking, that married people told their friends at dinner

parties when someone asked, “How did you two meet?” He wasn’t about to launch into

those details when he hadn’t even kissed her yet.

After she’d been terrorized, he wasn’t going to make a pass at her, even though she’d

spend the night next to him in bed. A fantasy he’d carried with him for a long time, but

not one he could explore tonight.

A renewed sense of frustration lit his veins with a fire he couldn’t quench. He’d

patiently waited for the perfect time to take her face in his hands and taste her lips

beneath his. If he’d waited this long, he could handle another twenty-four hours of

looking without touching.

Ignoring the desire pulsing in his blood, he sighed and went to the nearest side table.

It seemed to be the right height to wedge under the door handle, but it missed by an

inch. So he grabbed the chair at the small desk and propped it at an angle beneath the

handle.

Then he stepped back to demonstrate. “First, we’ll hear the scrape and snap of the

nail file, then the thud of the door hitting the chair. I’m not a deep sleeper. By the time

this system comes into play, I’ll jump out of bed and stand here like this.”

He unplugged the floor lamp, clutched it in his fists like a baseball bat, and stood

against the wall beside the bed. He drew the makeshift weapon back over his shoulder.

“If they manage to get past the chair, while you’re calling security I’ll be taking a

swing. They’ll never see me coming.” He followed through with a slow-motion arc as he

stepped around the corner and pretended to bash someone’s face in with the lamp. “No

one will get to you. I swear it.”

“Thank you, Isaac.” Reasons why she should fall hard for him continued to stack up in

his favor. Her emotions had practically built a shrine dedicated to him. How would she

get through this week without caving in to temptation?

Although, if she worked up the nerve to make an advance, and he shot her down,

she’d never be able to look him in the eyes again without feeling the burn of humiliation.

If by some miracle they landed this sale, the Sorens might send them on other trips

together. And if her attraction to him wasn’t mutual, that would make for the most

awkward interactions.

Until he showed her undeniable proof that he felt the same spine-tingling attraction

she did, she’d keep her hope and desires to herself. Another Helenism reared up from her

subconscious. “The greatest risks are only worth taking when you know you’ll win.” But

then it wouldn’t be a risk, would it? Her brain hurt contemplating the options of what to

do with Isaac. She couldn’t think about it anymore tonight.

“God, I’m tired.” Depleted on every level, she closed her heavy lids and fell back

against the pillow.

Unable to help herself, though, she peeked through her lashes to glimpse Isaac

walking around the bed to her side, and her heart skipped a few beats. Above her he

braced one hand on the headboard, giving her a fine view of his taut triceps. With his

other hand he reached for the lamp chain, but he paused. She held her breath. Please,

please touch me, hold me, kiss me.

He glanced down at her with those impossible-to-read dark eyes. She lifted her

lashes. Their stares held and she lost herself in the inky spheres.

A soft smile of regret touched his lips. “Good night, Mindy.”

When he pulled the chain, the room plunged into darkness. Then she heard him walk

back to his side of the bed. She released the breath she’d been holding, masking the

sound with a yawn. The blankets rustled and the mattress dipped with his weight. The

cool sheets instantly warmed with his body heat. Oh, that gorgeous body.

Stiff as a board, she lay awake in the dark, staring at the ceiling. Every sound and

movement heightened her awareness of him. She yearned for the accidental brush of his

hand on her skin. The slightest invitation for her to roll into his arms and find his lips in

the dark. She knew he would be an amazing kisser. Some men just gave off that uber-

sensual vibe and radiated smooth seductiveness.

The thought of his tongue gliding against hers sent a shiver from her scalp to her toes.

She bit the insides of her cheeks to contain a wistful groan.

“You cold?” he asked. “Here, you can have the comforter.” An extra layer draped over

her. “I’ve been told I’m a restless sleeper. I tend to kick off the covers anyway.”

He’d been told…no doubt by the countless women he’d taken to bed. The heat

glowing within her cooled several degrees. Why couldn’t she be one of those women?

Was she that unappealing to him?

Once again, an ego-bruising Helenism stabbed at her, but she shut down the thought

before it had the chance to fully form. Her mother may have syndicated advice columns in

popular magazines and newspapers, but right now Mindy didn’t want to hear it.

They lay silently for awhile.

Isaac tossed and turned and then announced, “I can’t do this.”

“Wh-what?” He couldn’t even stand to be in the same bed with her?

“I can’t sleep in a shirt. I’m not used to feeling confined.”

“It’s okay. I can’t sleep in pants or I get that restless legs thing.” She realized her

statement informed him that she wore only her underwear and the camisole beneath the

covers, and he might not want that image floating in his head as he went to sleep.

“Thanks for understanding,” he said in a slightly strangled voice.

The bed creaked when he sat up. She heard the stretch of fabric as he pulled his shirt

over his head, faint whoosh when it hit the floor.

The scent of his freshly washed skin drifted to her, taunting her. She went weak with

yearning, glad for the firm mattress supporting her.

Once he settled in again, he took up his entire half of the bed. It wasn’t just his

imposing form but also his presence. Whatever space surrounded him, he owned. Which

had nothing to do with macho arrogance. He exuded pure confidence, a man completely

secure in his world and whatever happened to be in it. At the moment that was her.

She’d been sucked into the orbit of his sphere, and gravity had definitely kicked in. She

wanted nothing more than to give in to the force drawing her toward his massive appeal.

So she rolled over and faced away from him. If he didn’t want her that way, she’d get

over it. Wouldn’t be the first time. What kept her hoping, at the precipice of falling for

him, were those moments she swore an inexplicable magnetism existed between them.

An unspoken, unquestionable pull that kept drawing them together.

Although, as she lay in his bed and he seemed unaffected, she seriously started to

question the sparks of attraction that lit his gaze when she caught his eye in an

unguarded moment. Maybe she should upgrade her Netflix account to platinum status so

she had something to do on Saturday nights in the future that probably wouldn’t include

him.

On that depressing note, she sank into the net of sleep waiting to catch her and pull

her under.

Next she knew, daylight struck her eyelids. But she didn’t want to open her eyes or let

go of the web of sensation surrounding her in blissful comfort.

Her cheek rested against a warm, hard surface. A firm clasp cupped her shoulder,

tender and reassuring. One of her hands rested between two firm pillows radiating heat.

Suddenly she froze. Those weren’t pillows. And the hard surface against her face

wasn’t the mattress.

Oh, no. Her eyes flew wide open to the view of an expansive male chest, her head

cradled by his shoulder.

“Morning,” he whispered. His sleep-roughened voice drifted over her like velvet.

“Okay.” She swallowed. “This is awkward.”

A sound of amusement rumbled in his chest. “Don’t move your hand up, or it could get

even more awkward.”

Blushing hard enough to burst a capillary, she yanked her hand from between his

thighs and sprang to her side of the mattress. “I—I just—I didn’t mean to—I’m sorry.”

“I’d say I was sorry, too, but…” He stopped himself from speaking.

Leaping out of bed, she dashed into the bathroom. She didn’t want to hear what he’d

been about to say. No doubt women threw themselves at him all the time. But she wasn’t

like that. Normally. Yet he probably had the Isaac Effect on any female with eyes and a

pulse. With his God-given sex appeal he could wake a woman from a coma.

The throb between her thighs let her know she was far from comatose or unaffected.

For crying out loud, she couldn’t help it. If she could shut off the valve to the molten heat

that oozed through her when she looked at him, she would. In spite of last night’s

turbulent events, her deprived sex drive begged for relief, a hot tumble with him between

the sheets, the warmth of his body moving with hers erasing her doubts and fears.

Chest aching, body flushed, she adjusted the shower faucets until they offered the

right lukewarm temperature. European-style showers, as she’d discovered yesterday

morning, didn’t offer the steamy heat Americans were used to, at least not for any

reasonable length of time. Glad she’d waxed before her trip, instead of having to take

time to shave, she hurried through her bathing routine. Why the rush, she didn’t know.

Maybe her skin needed the rough stimulation of her loofah sponge to scrub away Isaac’s

unspoken rejection and the invisible stain of last night’s attack.

Fortunately, she’d packed all her toiletries and makeup in her carryon bag. Only her

clothes had gone missing. Oh, and the ever important SOS thumb drive.

What an epic failure on her part. Why hadn’t she placed the device in her purse,

instead of her suitcase? Shame burned in her throat.

As she huddled under the spray of the quickly cooling shower, she considered the

ramifications if she had managed to do the correct thing and kept the thumb drive on her.

The burglars would’ve stolen the tech intel out from under them.

At least there was some hope their luggage would arrive before the trip ended. If the

drive had been stolen, she and Isaac would’ve had nothing to give the Markovs. Making

their entire company-expensed excursion to Russia a wash.

Maybe everything did happen for a reason, as her horoscope yesterday had

suggested. She half dreaded what today’s forecast held or how her personal astrologer

would try and shine the sun through such a thick layer of storm clouds. Ugh.

As stepped out of the shower, she realized belatedly she hadn’t brought clothes in

with her. She’d been too intent on putting space between her and the object of her

desire.

After blow-drying her hair, she wrapped a towel around her body. She tried to tug the

short fluffy shield lower than the curve of her backside, without much success. Giving up

her attempt at modesty, she opened the door to the scent of breakfast.

Her stomach growled. She couldn’t believe after last night’s twenty course feast she

was hungry, but the smell of rich food pulled her into the room where Isaac had set up a

tray on the desk. Wearing his worn t-shirt again, he half sat on the desk and pointed to

the chair he’d removed from the door and set at the desk. “Come eat. I wasn’t sure what

you wanted, so I ordered a little of everything.”

“This looks amazing.” She sat down and inhaled two slices of bacon.

“Yes, it does.” He paused with his coffee mug halfway to his lips and a few drops

dribbled down the front of his shirt.

Then she realized the source of his distraction—her. Wearing nothing but a towel. “I

should go change.”

“No, you really shouldn’t.”

Her gaze flew to his. And there it was…that mysterious sparkle in his deep dark eyes.

A mixture of amusement and interest and…attraction? She was probably seeing things.

Too enticed by breakfast to decipher mysteries this early in the morning, she polished

off a potato pancake topped with applesauce and washed it down with a hot cup of tea.

As she bit into another piece of bacon, she experienced a sudden flashback from last

night. The sharp stench of the man’s breath who pinned her against him. The metallic

taste of his ring when she tried to scream. The hateful words as they snarled at her.

Vicious strength crushing her, bruising her. No escape.

Her appetite disappeared. She dropped the bacon and shoved her trembling hands

between her knees.

Isaac’s gaze alert, he sat forward. “What’s wrong?”

“He was wearing a ring,” she said unsteadily.

“Who?”

“One of the men who…” She cleared her throat. “Who broke into my room last night.”

Isaac’s voice lowered to a hypnotic baritone. “That’s good you remembered. After a

trauma, memories can be slow to come back. Do you remember what the ring looked

like? How the men were dressed?”

Shutting her eyes, she shook her head no, trying to block out the memories. But they

surfaced in quick succession, flashing in disjointed glimpses like pictures under a strobe

light. She barely heard him leave the desk and come to her side.

“Mindy, look at me.”

She refused. She just wanted the whole incident to go away.

“Look. At. Me.”

Nervously, she lifted her eyes and concentrated on the present moment, on his

handsome face level with hers as he knelt beside her. He took her hands in his.

His eyes were clear and determined. “You’re safe. I won’t let anyone hurt you,

sweetheart. Can you recall any other details?”

A stab of fear lanced through her chest. “I don’t want to.”

“I know.” He gathered her against him gently stroking her hair. “But what you saw

could be important.”

He held her, making soothing sounds that eased the sharp pinch between her

shoulder blades. She wanted to stay in the protection of his arms forever.

Sunlight trickled into the room through the curtains. One of the shafts hit the bronze

lamp and reflected like a beacon, drawing shadowy images from her mind that became

sharper like examining pieces of broken glass. She described them aloud.

“The second man, the one I could see, had a long thin nose and a moustache. He

wore a beret, I think.”

“Good. That’s good, sweetheart. What else?”

She took in a shuddering breath. “The man in the beret had a strange accent when he

spoke Russian to the other guy and English to me. The one who grabbed me sounded like

the Markovs, but the thin man sounded different, his Russian and English less fluid. Not

quite German. Maybe more Nordic. Swedish or Norwegian.”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded. “Pretty sure. My mother hosted an exchange student my junior year of

high school. She was from Norway, in the States studying journalism. Helen loved her,”

Mindy recalled with a leftover twinge of jealousy.

Anla had been blonde and blue-eyed like Mindy, but the young worldly sophisticate

had engaged in riveting conversations with her mother discussing global politics. Socialist

states versus capitalist countries and everything else under the sun. Helen had treated

Anla more like a daughter than she treated her own. They’d talked long into the night

about things Mindy couldn’t have cared less about at the time. More interested in

cheerleading, studying for her SATs, and what dress to wear to prom. That whole

semester Helen had raved endlessly about Anla and how she was a bright young star in

the field of journalism. Again, Mindy hadn’t measured up, but back then she’d still

bothered to try.

“Interesting,” Isaac murmured.

“Why?”

“You probably don’t know this, but a large faction of gunrunners has been linked to

ties in Norway. And Russia has a heavy influence in the global weapons arena.”

She lifted away his chest and stared at him. “But we’re not here for guns. The Sorens’

SOS technology is meant for personal protection, like the bodyguards. The Markovs didn’t

seem like the gunrunning type.”

“They aren’t, they’re in the precious metals business but their rivals could be.”

“Why would a device for GPS location be in high demand by arms dealers?”

He shrugged. “Same reason people carry guns or our SOS thumb drive. The need for

self-defense isn’t specific to one group of people or another. Still, I wonder if there’s more

to it.”

The weave of the carpet left pockmarks on his knees when he stood and started

pacing. This was hardly the time to notice the impressive musculature of his thighs and

calves, but his lower body proved as athletic and built as his upper body. Some guys were

super pumped up top but looked ridiculous with scrawny legs and no shape to their

backsides. Isaac was a prime male specimen. Proportioned like a Greek stature, a marble

god. She wanted to feel his thigh muscles strain as he sent himself into her. She choked

back a moan.

Then she realized he’d stopped pacing. And she was still staring at his legs.

Immediately, she forced her gaze to dart from object to object around the room before

he received the impression she’d been ogling him. Which she had been. But still.

“Can you remember anything else about the ring?” he asked.

“Jade.” She startled herself with the announcement but the memory just popped into

her head of the murky green oval stone embedded in gold. The same color as the

Chinese dragon bookends her father used to prop up a row of books in his office at the

university. She could almost smell the comforting scent of pipe smoke, sweet and earthy,

her father’s one and only vice; besides his unconditional love for his wife who’d barely

acknowledged his existence for years before their divorce. “The gold ring held an oval

jade stone,” she whispered.

Isaac snapped his fingers. “Now there’s a possible connection.”

“There is?”

“The Markovs deal with precious metals and precious stones. You know, I had the

thought last night, maybe the attempted robbery was an inside job.”

Unnerved, she asked, “What do you mean?”

“As far as we know, the only people in this country—hell, in this hemisphere—who

knew about the SOS technology are us and the Markovs.”

She twisted her fingers together. “That sounds ominous.”

His expression darkened. “It may be.” Then he resumed pacing. “Did you notice all

the Markovs wore gold rings? The only one who wore a ring with a stone in it was

Marcus.”

Good grief, the guy had sat beside her half the night. How had she not noticed? “I

guess I wasn’t paying attention to their jewelry.”

Maybe she needed to stop comparing places to scenes in Indiana Jones movies and

focus more on the immediate details of her surroundings. Then again, she’d been more

than distracted by her continuous blunders. Marcus was the only one who’d laughed them

off. Because he’d had a secret agenda?

“I’m usually better at picking up on people’s quirks and responses,” she said,

bemused.

Walking over to her, Isaac tilted her chin up, his touch firm yet gentle. “You were busy

trying to hold your own in a foreign country where you don’t speak the language and

don’t know the customs.” His thumb grazed her cheek and her heart thumped hard.

“Understandable. It’s a lot to take in all at once.”

“Still.” She licked her lips.

His eyes widened then narrowed as he focused on the darting movement of her

tongue. Eventually his gaze met hers. “I want to do something with you today before our

second dinner meeting.”

The suggestion made her pulse thrum. “You do?”

“Get dressed while I grab a quick shower. Wear the dark red skirt suit.” He stroked her

cheek again. “It’s stunning on you.”

His fingers slid along her jaw before he dropped his hand to his side. Out of the corner

of her eye she noticed a distinct outline in his boxer briefs.

Isaac touching her had affected him—down there?

How about that. She gave an inner squeal of delight. “Okay, I’ll be ready by the time

you finish your shower.”

Chapter 5

After a night of torture lying next to the woman of his dreams, watching her run half-

naked to the bathroom, seeing her nipples poke through her towel, catching her checking

him out when he’d been pacing, then sliding his hand along the satiny texture of her

face…Isaac teetered on a knife’s edge of exploding.

He wanted to haul her against him. Plunge his tongue into her mouth. Throw her on

the bed. Thrust inside her and claim her.

Sweat beaded on his forehead, mingling with the water coasting down his neck. He

knew exactly what he’d like coasting down him right now, and it wasn’t soap suds. Unless

she was in the shower with him.

He slapped his hand against the tile with a wet smack, running his other hand down

his face. He considered relieving himself while he fantasized about her lips wrapped

around his cock. But he didn’t want the fantasy anymore, desperately craving the reality.

Nothing compared to the feel of her small fragile form in his arms. Last night had been

purgatory. Restless, hot and aching for her, he’d finally fallen asleep to the soft hypnotic

sound of her breathing. Only to wake up and find her wedged against him, her cheek

buried in his chest, his arm around her, her hand between his thighs, his erection

screaming for her.

But, like the night before, he would slap himself with the label World’s Biggest Asshole

if he’d taken advantage of her vulnerability. It nearly destroyed him to see the fear frozen

on her face at breakfast when she endured a PTSD moment from her attack. He’d wanted

to go back in time so he could rip the guy’s throat out.

And he could have. He’d gone through training, some self-taught, some natural

instinct, plus a few years of martial arts. The break-ins at his junkyard had forced him to

learn real self-defense techniques. He’d discovered most of the scrappers who’d tried to

help themselves to his property carried a knife. So he’d hired a pro to teach him how to

use a knife and defend himself against one.

Something he’d decided in the past ten minutes to teach Mindy. Although he had

plenty of confidence in his ability to protect her, she needed some of that assurance for

herself. A good life lesson situation. Whether or not they ended up together, he knew if

anything ever happened to her he’d hunt down and kill the bastard. Giving her a sense of

self-confidence, and avoiding a murder rap, seemed like the best outcome for all

concerned.

He finished his shower, slicked gel through his hair, dressed in a pair of Calvin Klein

jeans and the t-shirt he hadn’t slept in last night, and then threw on his overcoat.

“Are you leaving right now?” she questioned, seeing him dressed and ready to go.

“Yes, and you’re coming with me.”

She brightened. “Sightseeing?”

“More like an errand.” He checked his watch. “But we should have time for a stop I

think you’ll enjoy.”

Leaping up from the desk chair, she clapped like a kid who was told she could have an

extra hour of recess. He sent her a fond smile. Appreciation swelled in his chest and

nudged his heart.

Damn, she got to him. Every time her eyes lit up and she smiled like the world was

made of sunshine and rainbows, he fell a little bit more in love with her. When he wasn’t

with her he missed her, thought about her, worshipped her from afar.

Too far, for too long.

That was going to change. As soon as he found the right moment to show her how he

felt, how much she meant to him.

“Let me call our driver,” he said, “so we can get a head start on the day.”

Once they’d settled into the back seat of the luxury ride, he gave the man instructions

in Russian of the general area he wanted to go. At the request, the driver’s eyebrows

lifted and disappeared under his cap. “Yes, sir,” he replied. They traveled down main

streets then took a few turns until they entered a seedier part of town. The driver asked

in Russian, “Any pawn shop?”

Isaac replied, “One that specializes in weapons.” When the man’s eyes widened, Isaac

explained. “We’re not going there to make trouble. Just to buy some protection for the

lady’s peace of mind.”

The driver nodded. “We will see it done.”

Isaac thanked him, glad Mindy couldn’t understand the language. She might’ve grown

concerned at his request.

Eventually they pulled up to a dingy storefront with diamond-shaped grates inside the

windows. She glanced past him. “I guess I get to see the real parts of the city, not the

tourist stuff.”

“We’ll see a tourist attraction, too. This is a brief detour.” When she exited the car he

secured his arm around her and ushered her into the shop.

Sad little bells clanged against the door when they entered. The smell of aged metal

and mothballs filled the air.

“Geez, what kind of place is this?” Reaching out, she touched a chainmail shirt on a

mannequin torso as if she expected it to bite her. “Look at all these…” She swallowed.

“Weapons.”

He nodded and went straight to the smudged glass countertop. Inside lay a host of

knives spread before him. Scanning them quickly, he found one that suited his purpose.

“Hello?” Isaac called out his greeting in Russian, not wanting the owner to know his

American status and risk getting raked over on the price.

A round-bellied man emerged from a curtain that concealed a back room, and with

him came the ripe odor of unwashed armpits. The man’s beady glare sized up Isaac then

shifted to Mindy, undressing her with his eyes.

Isaac slapped his hand on the counter. “I’m here to buy a knife.” He pointed at the

piece he wanted from the selection. “This one.”

The owner grunted and the smell of stale tobacco wafted over the counter. Then the

rotund man shook his head, reaching behind him into a case containing an array of black

market guns. “You want something like this. Solid gold, ivory detail in the handle. A

showpiece.”

Isaac took one look at the pistol and disagreed. He doubted the gun even fired. “No

showpiece. I want something for practical defense.”

Frowning, the man shrugged and muttered under his breath. He replaced the gun,

locked the case, and withdrew the knife requested in the first place. Isaac picked it up,

testing the weight and balance on his forefinger. Satisfied by the level of craftsmanship,

he feathered his thumb along the blade. Unimpressed, he stated, “This needs

sharpening.”

The owner sent him a look that said, How is that my problem?

With a loud exhale, Isaac requested a sharpening stone. At least the man produced

that, a reluctant attempt at customer service. Isaac planned to bargain him down to the

bone. Growing up around his uncles and cousins and the rest of the extended Atlas

family, they’d helped him refine his negotiating skills. The perfect preparation for a career

in sales. While cutthroat bargaining wasn’t the norm in most parts of America, his family

had turned it into an art form. Sometimes they’d challenged each other to see who could

get the best price for any item. From a Lamborghini to a can of Lysol, there was always a

bargain to strike. The one key for the purchaser was his willingness to walk away. The

loss of a sale was worse for a seller than losing a few bucks in profit. God, he loved his

career.

He felt a tug on his sleeve. He glanced down at Mindy, her petite stature appearing

smaller and more fragile than usual. “Why do we need a knife?”

“I’ll show you later. Let me pay for this then we’re out of here.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, she nodded. However, Isaac had revealed his crystal clear

American speech. The owner’s eyes glittered like a snake oil salesman’s.

I don’t think so, pal. Isaac spread his feet in a cocky stance and dove into the

negotiations speaking flawless Russian. Long ago he’d mastered the art of reading body

language, a priceless tool in a salesman’s arsenal of tactics. The only person he’d been

careful not to use that with was Mindy. Everyone else was fair game.

As he bargained with the owner, a surge of adrenaline spiked his veins. He enjoyed

the game as much as the prize in the end. He played the man masterfully. He aimed for

half the price the owner first quoted. He was five dollars off when the owner dug in his

heels and refused to go lower. Thing was, Isaac always got what he wanted.

After a few more minutes, he shrugged. “Then we’ll go someplace else and talk to

someone who wants to make money.”

Sliding his arm around Mindy’s waist, he turned her toward the door and lifted a finger

to his lips in a gesture for silence. She stayed mute, though her puzzled expression was

adorable.

The owner dropped his fists to the counter with a dull thud. “Fine. It’s yours.”

Isaac grinned then schooled his features into a mask of disinterest. He turned back to

the man. “I don’t know that I still want it.”

The owner glared them grumbled his final offer. Two dollars less than Isaac had

planned to pay. Score.

Walking back to the counter, he withdrew his wallet and paid cash for the knife at a

dirt-cheap price. Pleased with the success, he pocketed the knife and hurried Mindy out

the door.

“What was that about back there?” Her dazed expression remained until they’d pulled

away from the shop.

He grinned. “My idea of fun.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” She eyed him with hesitation. “Are you going to tell me

what the knife is for?”

“That’s the purpose of knives like this. An extra level of protection.”

She clicked her thumbnails together. “Then wouldn’t the gun have been a better

choice?”

“A knife is easily concealed and just as powerful when you know how to use it. I’m

going to teach you some defense techniques when we get back to the hotel.”

“Oh.” That seemed to soothe her nerves. “I’d like that.”

“Consider it done.” He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “But first, we’re going on a

tour.”

Her eyes sparkled like sapphires. “Where?”

He tapped her nose. “It’s a surprise. I think you’ll like it.”

After giving the driver instructions, which the man already knew because Isaac had

arranged this with him yesterday, he settled back into the soft cushion and watched the

dozens of fascinating expressions that crossed her face as they went on a long winding

drive through the city. Everything captured her interest. From a boy selling papers on the

street corner to merchants with their carts stationed outside shops to colorful fall leaves

floating in fountains that hadn’t yet frozen over.

At one point, he asked the driver to crank up the heat in back, then urged her to roll

down the window and experience every color and scent and sound. Chill wind streamed

through her hair, turned her cheeks pink, and made her eyes over-bright. Stacking her

arms on the edge of the window, she rested her chin on her coat sleeves. She smiled

nonstop.

Isaac imprinted this moment in his memory. Her expression of sheer bliss, almost

spiritual, made her beauty ethereal. A soft sweet angel who’d been placed on earth just

for him. To remind him of the sacredness of life. That he needed to slow down, look

around, and appreciate what he’d accomplished…and dream about the future. Not in a

hurry-up-and-arrive kind of way. More like lying on the banks of a slow river on a lazy

Sunday afternoon, remembering far-flung hopes from the past, back when reality and

logic and planning didn’t interfere with daydreaming. Imagination in full bloom. No ideas

beyond the realm of possibility. No limits. Just pure freedom.

I want to fall in love with you.

As he gazed at her, his chest squeezed with the silent admission. How he’d come to

his conclusion already, he wasn’t sure. Maybe because everything about her fit the

missing pieces in him he’d never realized he’d been living without. Until the day she’d

arrived on his path with a bright shining light when he’d stood at a crossroads, showing

him the way to a better, more fulfilling existence.

When it came to bargaining his patience for the ultimate prize, he had settled in to

win. He was so close to tasting the sweetness of victory. But the moment had to be right.

He hadn’t waited this long to suddenly rush to the finish line and grab his trophy. This

finale deserved all the planning and patience he possessed. Though the delayed

gratification was hell at times, she was worth it. Worth every minute of the wait.

The car pulled up to a set of ornate twelve-foot-high wrought iron gates adorned with

bright gold flourishes. Beyond them rose the blue, white-pillared edifice of a three story

sprawling mansion.

No, sprawling wasn’t the word for it. Massive or endless better described the marvel of

architecture that could’ve sprung from her childhood princess dreams. One year for

Christmas, her father had built her a dollhouse against her mother’s wishes. Helen had

believed girls shouldn’t be slaves to society’s traditional expectations of female roles and

that playing with dolls and little houses trapped girls in a mindset of subservience. But at

six years old, all Mindy had wanted was a dollhouse. Before her stood the real life

version.

“What is this place?”

Isaac exited the car and came around to open her door. Taking her hand, he guided

her out onto the sidewalk with him. “Welcome to the Romanov’s Tsarskoe Selo estates.

This is the Catherine Palace.”

“As in Catherine the Great?”

He grinned. “The one and only.”

“Oh, my gosh. This is going to be amazing.” In her enthusiasm she threw her arms

around him. For a moment she wondered if she felt his lips press against her neck, but he

lifted his head before she could be certain.

“Look, the gates are opening. Let’s go in and check out the courtyard.”

They wandered the impressive grounds, taking in the statues, the whimsical swirling

patterns of grass and colored stones, and the tranquil lake. Though the lawns were well

kept, autumn leaves layered one of the paths they took like a stream of pure gold. Gold

seemed to be a common theme. The precious metal encased the decorative moldings

around every window and the scrollwork of every pillar, up to the onion-shaped domes

topping the tallest spires of the palace.

The vision took her breath away. “It’s impossibly stunning.”

“I’ve learned nothing is impossible. Or too stunning.”

When she glanced up at him, his dark eyes absorbed her for a long moment. Then he

suggested they meet up with the tour group and the babushka guiding the tour. Sounded

good to her, she couldn’t wait to see the inside of the palace.

As expected, the interior held remarkable splendor. In the Amber Room, gold leaf

touched every nook and cranny, spellbinding. A sage green dining room couldn’t have

been more magnificent with Grecian themed moldings spanning the walls. The grand

ballroom deserved its title, with patterned floors, dozens of windows, plus a large ceramic

structure used to heat the palace in winter. They must’ve employed hundreds of artisans

to paint the elaborate murals across the ceiling.

Unfathomable opulence with no expense spared.

Then the babushka led them into a smaller ballroom with more paintings and mirrors.

Mindy strolled through, stopping at each painting, absorbed and enthralled. Midway

through the tour she realized her travel companion had left her side. “Isaac?”

He poked his dark head out from the annex room behind her. “Psst.”

“What are you—?”

Holding a finger to his lips, he beckoned her with his other hand. She retraced her

steps and joined him out of sight behind a half wall.

“What did you find?” she asked in a conspiratorial whisper.

“A doorway.” His eyes glittered. “One that leads to some pretty interesting back

rooms.”

When he gestured to a partly open but roped off door, her eyes widened. “We can’t go

in there.”

“Who’s going to know?”

“Um, the tour guide, and the twenty other people on the tour with us.”

“Not if we meet up with them before the tour is over.”

Nervous, she glanced around. “I don’t think we should—”

“Are you saying you’re not up for a little adventure?”

Nibbling her lower lip, she debated for a second. “Okay, but if we get into trouble…”

He shrugged innocently. “My fault. I was looking for the bathroom.”

She nudged him. “You’re terrible.”

“In a good way,” he said with a devilish grin.

She smiled back. “In the best way.”

“Come on.” He took her hand, threading his fingers through hers.

Electric awareness prickled her palm. Did he feel it too? Like a sparkler had been lit

between their hands? He didn’t let on to recognizing the chemistry, but he didn’t let go.

She reveled in the sensation of his large hand engulfing hers and clung to him as he led

her down a narrow passageway.

“Check this out.” He ducked into a small anteroom with her.

She’d recalled walking by several large mirrors along the smaller ballroom wall. From

this vantage point they held a fascinating secret. Large circles had been rubbed into the

backs of the mirrors, spaced evenly along the narrow hidden room.

Tracing her fingertips along the distressed surface, she felt as though she’d stepped

into a giant Faberge egg, and she was peeking through the clear hole revealing the

wonders within. “This is like a two way mirror.”

“That’s exactly what it is,” he confirmed.

“Who knew nineteenth century Russians were so clever?”

Wearing a proud expression, he gestured to himself as if to say, A m I not proof of

Russian genius?

“Yeah, yeah,” she snorted. In all seriousness, the two way mirrors were an intriguing

revelation. “I can just imagine well titled families hiding back here, observing events

unfolding in the ballroom. Social engineering at its finest, plotting romances and

marriages to carry on illustrious lineages.”

When she caught his eye, she found him staring at her. “Has anyone ever told you

that you were born in the wrong era?”

Blushing, she shrugged. “I read a lot of regency romances.”

He smoothed a strand of hair back from her face. “It’s more than that. You have a

timeless grace about you. Does that sound lame?”

“No,” she said with a soft smile. “Thanks for noticing.”

The tip of his finger traced her cheek. “I probably notice a lot more than you want me

to.”

The electricity returned and crackled in the air. He blinked and the magical pulses

faded. “Let’s see what other secrets we can find before we get kicked out for snooping.”

Hands still attached, he took her back the way they’d come and then climbed a

wooden staircase that spiraled upward. The oddest little door greeted them at the top, so

short the average person needed to bend low to enter. Rather medieval in design, unlike

the rest of the palace, it had iron strap hinges and round metal knocker. He picked it up

and let the circular ring thump against the aged wood. “Anyone home?”

Obviously not expecting an answer, he shoved hard. The hinges puffed a cloud of rust

in protest but the small door creaked open.

The dim room smelled of unaired linens removed from of an old trunk. She hesitated

on the threshold. “You know we’re crazy even doing this.”

He winked at her. “I like a little crazy now and then. Keeps life interesting.”

Their hands parted as they stepped inside to explore. The place probably hadn’t been

breached in decades, if not centuries. A time capsule frozen in history.

“Could Catherine the Great have had this palace constructed around an old castle?”

she asked, excited by the sense of wonder and discovery.

“No idea. What do you think this space was used for?”

Taking her time to respond, she wandered the perimeter. A thick layer of dust settled

between the folds of fabric hung from rods. A series of wooden nooks lay behind each set

of drapes and appeared to be cushioned like settees—or beds.

Without meaning to she giggled.

He peered at her. “What?”

“My best guess? This was a secret room for lovers to retreat from the prying eyes of

‘proper’ society. Eligible ladies and gentlemen weren’t allowed to show or share their

affections. An adult chaperoned their every move, especially the girls. I suppose Russian

peerage might’ve had different rules about fraternization than the English aristocracy,

which is what I’m basing my guess on, but I’ll bet arranged marriages were common

here, too, during that time. Men and women may have escaped here to meet with the

person they were attracted to versus the mate their families chose for them.”

“A secret sex room. Nice.”

“Desire can’t be denied, no matter what stands in the way.” She lifted a shoulder.

“We’re only human, right?”

“Right.” The potency of his one word reply made her turn and face him.

He strode to her, his eyes midnight black and glistening with seduction. He slid his

arm around her waist and clasped her against him.

“Isaac—”

He branded her lips with his searing kiss, his mouth capturing hers in a hot taking.

When she gasped his tongue dipped inside to touch hers, the briefest contact, before

he withdrew and his lips closed, brushing and coaxing. A sensual massage. A sigh

escaped her, or maybe a moan, she wasn’t sure.

Finally. Her lashes slid closed and the pressure of his mouth intensified in increments.

He licked her upper lip, a request to enter again. She parted for him. As his tongue swept

into her mouth, her head fell back into his palm.

Eager to learn his taste, she parried his thrusts, sliding onto tiptoe to get closer to

him. He smelled as if he’d walked out of the Garden of Eden at midnight, earthy,

mysterious, and compelling. Or maybe that’s where she imagined herself with him as he

seduced her mouth.

There was something edgy about his taste, seductive and forbidden, like the depths of

the ocean. His nautical cologne tingled in her nose, sweeping her into another place and

time, where moonbeams danced on ocean waves that pulled her under with their

hypnotic rhythm.

A toe curling rhythm of thrusting, sweeping, then withdrawing to tempt her again. He

repeated the sensual motions until she grew dizzy, overwhelmed by so many sensations

all at once.

Warmth poured through her, at last on the receiving end of those amazing lips that

whispered sexy, naughty things to her in her fantasies. She hoped he wouldn’t come to

his senses and stop.

He angled her face for deeper access, and tingles fanned out from every place his

fingertips touched her. She felt so desired, so wanted. It had been so long.

Everything seemed new and different with him, as if she’d never been kissed, truly

kissed, before Isaac. An eternity of desire unleashed.

Silky and intoxicating, his mouth demanded complete surrender. With a moan she

gave in to him, completely. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she combed her fingers

through his glossy black hair, his skin hot against her wrists.

Giving a low guttural groan, he backed her against the wall. Her leg brushed against

the curtain shielding one of the nooks. That’s where she wanted to end up, embracing his

muscular weight on top of her. Though he seemed to be enjoying this just fine in the

upright position.

While he kissed her, his hands molded to her shape. He swept his palms down her

sides. Then one hand slid up to cup her breast, tracing her nipple with his thumb. She

offered a moan of encouragement. His other hand dropped to her backside and hauled

her against his hips. His impressive erection strained between them.

The potency of his body’s response sent arrows of desire shooting through her.

“See what you do to me?” He ground against her, the pressure intense and building

fast. “You do this to me. You, Mindy.”

Her body shook with unfulfilled lust. In her most seductive voice, she whispered, “I

want to be with you, Isaac.”

To prove her point, she slid her hand between them and cupped his girth, stroking

him. He gave an involuntary thrust against her hands as if his body were slave to her

touch. Awed by the notion, she stroked him again firmly.

Turning serious, he cupped her face in his hands. “Are you sure that’s what you want?

Because if we go there, there’s no going back.”

Without a trace of concern, she stared into his fathomless dark eyes. “Yes.”

Chapter 6

The woman Isaac needed completely, totally, exclusively, had just told him she

wanted him. Wanted him to take her right here, right now.

Except, no matter how desperately he wanted to act on his pounding lust, this wasn’t

the place. Damn it, he didn’t want a fast fuck in this sex room. He needed to take his

time with her—needed more than the orgasm she was a few strokes away from giving

him. She deserved so much better. Hell, yes, he wanted her to give herself to him, but

not in the heat of the moment. He had to be sure she knew what she was getting into.

That he wasn’t interested in a fling. She was it for him, and if they screwed each other’s

brains out, that would make his body happy, but not his heart.

Damn, it was tempting—but it wasn’t right. It wasn’t good enough for her.

He held her chin firmly. “Tell me something.”

Her lashes fluttered. “Okay.”

“Do you want to do this here? Or would you wait for me to do this with you the right

way?”

“Oh.” A dreamy expression drifted into her eyes. Then she frowned. “Ah…both?”

He shook his head. “Do you want me to fuck you or make love to you?” Because

either one would tell him how she felt, where they stood. A moan lifted from her chest

and he almost lost hold of his restraint. “Tell me which one you want more.”

She swayed in his arms. “Make love,” came her barely audible whisper.

Possessive satisfaction took root in his soul. “Good answer.”

As he delivered a long, slow, lingering kiss, the sound of voices carried up to them

through the dusty window. “Mmm.” He dropped another kiss to her lips, then another,

before he forced himself to pull back. “I could stand here and kiss you all damn day, but

the babushka might send a search party after us.” He laced his fingers with hers. “Let’s

get back to the group before we catch hell from the schoolmarm.”

Mindy laughed. “She does come across pretty uptight.”

“Forget pretty. Just uptight.” As he led her to the door, he said, “When I’m with you,

all other women pale in comparison.”

She snorted. “Is that your cheesy pickup line?”

He feigned offense. “One of my better ones.” Then he grinned. “Is it working?”

“Isaac, you could stand there silent looking gorgeous. You don’t need pickup lines.”

“My ego appreciates the flattery,” he said, giving the door a hard tug to close it. “But

I’m the one who’s supposed to be giving the compliments.”

“It’s not flattery when it’s the truth.” She sounded a little wounded that he didn’t

believe her sincerity.

“Hey.” He tugged her to him on the stairs, their eyes level with him standing two

steps below her. He gave her a swift kiss. “As long as those beautiful lips are mine, you

won’t hear me complaining about anything you say.”

A loud clang startled him, followed by three more deafening rings. Which confirmed

her theory that this might’ve been a tower in the past. The bell still worked, a little too

well. And with that bell tolling four times, they needed to wrap up this tour.

Cringing and covering her ears, she followed him as they descended the staircase. He

took her hand again and raced with her through the ballroom, into a parlor and out a row

of glass paneled doors. They stepped onto an elaborate patio where leaves rustled in the

brisk wind. They turned the corner and found the others. Their tour group was milling

around an expansive gardenscape at the rear of the palace, with more marble statues

and trimmed foliage.

“I’ll bet this garden is stunning in the peak of summer,” she said in a wistful tone, her

eyes soft and dreamy. He wanted to see that same expression on her face when she was

in his bed under him.

“Indeed, it is,” said a brittle voice behind them. They both turned to find themselves

face to face with the schoolmarm, a sharply disapproving look on her features. She

would’ve made an excellent Catholic nun. “And where have you two been? Hmm?”

Theme music from The Wizard of Oz hummed in his mind and a line of dialogue

followed, I’ll get you, my pretty.

“I had to stop and tie my shoe,” he said with a veneer of innocence. Never mind he

wasn’t wearing shoes with laces.

The babushka folded her arms. “For twenty minutes?” She gave them the evil eye.

“These are sacred grounds that must be respected. From now on, stay with your tour.”

When the woman left, Isaac said, “I think I’m done with this tour.”

Mindy nodded. “Me, too.”

“Our driver’s waiting. Let’s ditch this dog and pony show and go back to the hotel.”

Her eyes lit up temptingly. “Great idea.”

It would’ve been—especially for his super-charged libido—except they got stuck in

traffic. When he caught Mindy glancing at his watch nervously, he ran a hand through his

hair, frustrated. In more ways than one.

Her fingers twined in her lap. “I guess we won’t have time to—”

“Change,” he said, aware their driver could hear every word. “Not much time, anyway.

The concierge better have my suit dry cleaned and waiting for me at the front desk.”

“Our luggage would be nice, too.” Her tone turned fretful. “My suitcase has the only

proof of our company’s abilities to make this sale.”

“Not necessarily.”

She did a double take. “Why?”

“When I owned my Harley-Davidson dealership, sometimes the motorcycle I was

selling with all the bells and whistles wasn’t even on the lot. I was selling the idea of it.

The fantasy. I built an image in a buyer’s mind of what the motorcycle could be. And who

he could be when he rode that dream bike. Make a buyer feel special and one-of-a-kind

and he’ll buy the motorcycle I just sold to his ego, not his wallet.”

Tilting her head, she seemed to dissect and consider his words. “That’s kind of

brilliant.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Kind of?”

“Fine, it’s totally brilliant. It just never thought about sales in that light.”

“Because you’re busy polishing the company’s image, which is also an important

aspect of sales, but it’s different than peddling a physical commodity. Your job is all about

making people feel good about associating with Soren Security. My job is to sell the

concept of security, then the device that will give it to them, so they’ll sign on the dotted

line.”

She gave a thoughtful nod. “Technically, I know all that. I have a bachelor’s degree in

business marketing. But it’s different seeing the principles of business textbooks in action,

applied to a specific situation. You make those ideals come alive.”

He shrugged. “I love what I do.”

“It shows.”

The respect and admiration in her gaze made his heart gallop in a ragged rhythm. He

wasn’t used to this—caring so damn much about what one person thought of him—but he

did. Her opinion meant everything.

With that consideration in mind, when they finally beat traffic and arrived at the hotel,

he slid his arm around her waist and slipped into an empty conference room on the main

floor. He needed to teach her a few moves to use with the knife he bought her. He’d

rather show her a different set of moves horizontally, but this wasn’t the time to get all

hot and bothered with her.

Confusion stamped on her face, she blinked up at him. “What are we doing here? I

thought we had no time—”

“There’s always time to make you feel safe.”

“What do you mean…? Oh.” Her eyes rounded. “The knife.”

“Exactly.” He shed his coat, tossing it onto the back of a conference chair, and she did

the same with hers.

Retrieving the knife and its sheath from his coat, he handed it to her. She held it away

from her and peered at it warily.

“That’s your first problem.”

“What?”

“A weapon, especially a knife, is an extension of your body, of your physical being. It

isn’t something to fear but an aspect to master.”

She drew it a little closer. “It feels foreign. Kind of brutal.”

“It should. May I?”

When she placed it in his outstretched palm, he unsheathed the blade and, stepping

to the side, made a few arcs, turns and jabs like a choreographed scene from his favorite

Bruce Lee film.

She paled. “Oh, my.”

“Don’t be intimidated. I’ve had some practice.” Okay, a little more than some, but he

didn’t want the learning curve to seem too daunting.

With a tight swallow she said, “You could be one of the bodyguards we hire out to

protect people.

He laughed. “Trust me, I’m better at sales than I am with knives.”

“I don’t know about that.” She seemed to regard him in a new light. “You could slice

someone to ribbons before they ever saw it coming.”

He nodded. “That’s the point. The element of surprise is the most powerful weapon.

Better than muscles or fists or bullets. You want to know enough to be dangerous, to

catch someone off guard.” He gazed at her steadily. “I want you to act out with me what

those men did to you in your hotel room. Show me how they grabbed you.”

A cloud of fear shadowed her face. “Isaac, I don’t feel comfortable—”

“I’ll make it easy.” He knelt on the floor holding the knife. “You’re the aggressor. Show

me how they held you.”

The reenactment was as unappealing for him as it was for her, but still necessary. He

watched her overcome her fears, stepping into the role he’d assigned her. “The big guy

held me from behind, like this.”

With him kneeling, the position helped her petite body achieve a similar dynamic to

some hulking brute. She wrapped her arm around his neck in a chokehold and clamped

her other hand over his mouth.

While he hated that she’d gone through this herself, this provided an excellent

teaching ground. He jerked his head to the side toward her elbow. “Turning your head

takes the pressure off your windpipe. You need to get as much oxygen to your brain as

possible to keep your mind sharp.”

Slowly he moved his elbow backward toward her midriff, without any forceful contact.

“I just gave myself breathing room, at the same time knocking the wind from your chest.”

Then he spun on his knees and aimed the sheathed knife at her solar plexus, his palm

against the butt of the hilt, demonstrating how to shove the knife in and up. “Using those

three moves, you could’ve sent your attacker to the hospital. Possibly to the morgue.”

She turned a little green. “I can’t even stand the thought of hurting someone. Let

alone holding his life in my hands.”

“You lived through the ordeal, thank God, but that luck may not happen twice.” He

lifted a shoulder, not to be cavalier but to prove a point. “When the stakes are life and

death, I assume you want to end up on the living end of that equation.”

She nodded.

“Let’s try it again,” he suggested. “You practice the moves I showed you against me.”

“Isaac…”

“Life and death, sweetheart. You can do this.”

With a sigh, she accepted the sheathed knife from him. After twenty minutes of

continuous practice, she seemed comfortable with the knife in her hand and how to use it

if necessary. “Nice work. I wouldn’t want to meet you in a dark alley.” He hoped she

heard the sincerity in his tone. “This belongs to you now,” he said, handing her the knife.

“Really?” She clutched it against her stomach like a lifeline. “Are you sure?”

“I didn’t buy it for me. It was meant to be yours.” He cupped her chin in his palm.

“Mindy, I would cross heaven and earth and hell to protect you. But if I can’t be there,

and you need to defend yourself, I want you to have the confidence to be a fighter, not a

victim.”

To his surprise, tears welled in her eyes. She sprang onto tiptoe and kissed him. While

he enjoyed her random display of affection, he took her shoulders in his hands. “What

was that for?”

Her eyes glowed with adoration. “Don’t you know?”

He kissed her softly and drew back. “I know we have to leave soon if we want to

make it to the dinner meeting on time. I need to grab my suit from the front desk and

change upstairs. I’ll meet you back down here in ten minutes.”

Disappointment flashed in her eyes, but she nodded. “You’re probably right.”

His disappointment felt as sharp as hers. He’d much rather ditch dinner and feast on

her all night. Instead, he returned downstairs within ten minutes as promised and they

were on their way to meet the Markovs for the second meeting, the deal-clincher.

Tonight he’d sit through another long evening of watching her share her light and

laughter with three other men. When all he wanted to do was keep her to himself. He’d

never been the jealous type, but when it came to Mindy, an unfamiliar edginess crept up

his back and made him feel things he’d never felt, covet what he didn’t own. He’d have to

force a smile while a guy like Marcus poured his attention all over her.

Now that he’d kissed her and tasted her and knew that she wanted him, tonight would

be more brutal than last night. And he just had to sit there and take it.

A scowl dragged down the corners of his mouth. He was not looking forward to this.

Even if he did nail down the sale, it would come at the cost of another man’s touch on his

girl. A devil’s bargain he’d never had to make before.

The upper hand he’d grown accustomed to holding was slipping through his fingers.

For the most part, that was a good thing, except when it compromised his judgment and

laser focus on his career.

Then again, he’d always believed that work and relationships required balance. That

balance would be tested tonight.

Chapter 7

Mindy wished she and Isaac had arrived first so they could sit next to each other like

last night. Instead, the Markovs awaited them in the same semicircular booth. The elder

Markov sat in the central position of power that Isaac had occupied last night. Isaac was

sandwiched between the older and middle sons, Michael and Matthias, and he looked

none too happy about the arrangement. She sat between Mr. Markov and her devoted

admirer, Marcus. Too many M’s to keep track of, she thought wearily.

She wondered if splitting up her and Isaac was intentional. Her suspicion was

confirmed when Marcus’s thigh wedged against hers and she found no retreat from his

physical presence or his one-sided boastful conversation. The cologne he wore, an

overpowering scent of patchouli-laced musk, made her eyes water and erased her

appetite. It didn’t help that his breath smelled like leftover garlic pasta and oysters. She

fought not to gag.

With a plea in her eyes, she glanced at Isaac, who threw Marcus a dark look. But,

equally trapped, Isaac couldn’t do much to help her uncomfortable situation without

offending someone. Or everyone.

Resigned to her fate for the evening, she settled her stiff shoulders against the

cushion. That apparently signaled Marcus to rest his arm across the top of the booth

behind her. Between her small stature and his tall lanky one leaning into her, she feared

she’d have to face his armpit all night, although that smelled better than his breath.

An ache started to form in her left temple, the side facing Marcus. She downed her

first two drinks to achieve a little mental fuzziness. It made Marcus a bit more tolerable.

He regaled her with stories of his discotheque extravaganza the night before, which she

assumed was his version of club hopping.

“The women at these places, they know me when I come through the door. They

know I have money.” He preened then flattened his hand on the table in front of her so

his body formed a box around her. The thick gold bracelet matched the rope-braid around

his neck, but no precious gems, as Isaac had warned her to notice.

Obviously, Marcus wasn’t their perpetrator. Also, despite his high opinion of himself,

Marcus had nothing on Isaac’s suave, confident charm. From across the table, Isaac

seemed to be beguiling the Markovs with his confident charm. That meant she needed to

work on her employers’ excellent repute.

Unfortunately, Marcus’s youngest-child syndrome shone through his words and

gestures, backed up by his doting family. Mindy needed to dig deeper.

“Have you been on any covers of magazines?” She needed to either dampen his

egotism or find a way to make him confess to a potential break-in and breakup with his

family.

Immediately, he scrolled through his cameos to show her pictures of him on the front

cover of a prominent magazine. He said, “See? There I am. On the cover.”

She could practically hear his inner dialogue. There I am! Aren’t I amazing? Aren’t I so

wonderful? Don’t you want to bow to my feet? Now will you let me stick my tongue down

your throat?

Ugh. The answer to all was no. But it did give her insight into Marcus’s psyche. Now

she knew how to get to him…and hopefully how to get to the sale.

“What magazine?” she asked. “You look so serious and sophisticated on the cover. It

makes me want to take you seriously.”

The tongue-in-cheek response was lost on him. “I posed for the business magazine,

the top one for Russia.” He tossed his head like a model. “I told you every girl knows who

I am.”

“You’re obviously very important.” Were they going to order dinner soon? She hoped

so, since she’d passed her tipsy limit a drink ago, swerving toward intoxication. Not good,

especially since she hadn’t exactly won the Markovs over with her personality the night

before.

Marcus ordered another round of drinks. Oh, heaven help her. He draped his arm

around her, and while his armpit wasn’t as awful as his breath, she didn’t want to be

boxed in by him all night. Then Marcus pressed the limit, putting his hand over her

shoulder as if they’d shared some great laugh. She glanced across the table. Isaac looked

like he might commit murder.

“I’ve had experience myself getting published in media,” Mindy improvised. “The man

who owns Soren Security actually started out as a bounty hunter, did you know that?”

She kept talking, and Marcus continued to be less interested in himself and more

interested in her boss. A win on all sides. She explained that Trey Soren had begun his

job as a bounty hunter and leveraged it into a career sending out bodyguards to those

who needed protection.

Shockingly, Marcus turned into a businessman. “This sounds like a man I need to

meet.”

“You’ll appreciate all he’s gone through to achieve his billionaire success.”

“I agree.” Red slashes crested Isaac’s cheeks and his jaw clenched. “What Mindy

suggested is a great idea. You should come see our facility.” To his credit, his smooth

voice ran contrary to his barely concealed irritation. “You can see our company first hand.

Meet the owners. See how we operate, and how our services can benefit your business

on many levels.”

Marcus gave a firm nod. “It is done.”

Oh, my God. Had they actually made the sale? Mindy wanted to dance a jig.

Mr. Markov yelled for the waiter, who arrived with efficient strides. “A round to

celebrate our new alliance,” Mr. Markov declared.

Uh-oh. The two sips she’d taken of her third drink had let her know she’d well

surpassed her limit on an empty stomach. A shot would wreck her.

When the brimming shot glasses arrived, she stared at hers dubiously. If she didn’t

drink a toast to their mutual success, she risked offending them. If she downed the shot,

she just might puke or pass out on Marcus. Lovely options, neither one acceptable.

I’m in trouble. The trapped sensation from earlier returned. Her throat tightened.

Mostly because she wanted to maintain a good impression, but she wanted to be sober

enough to enjoy—and remember—the night in store that Isaac had promised back in the

tower.

She recalled his heated words. Do you want me to fuck you or make love to you?

Her toes curled remembering his sexy ultimatum. She craved his touch. Do you want

me to fuck you or make love to you? She wanted to completely sober when Isaac made

love to her.

But there was Marcus dangling a drink in front of her. So not fair. “Mindy, let’s drink

with our new business partners,” Isaac prompted softly.

Shaking her head to clear her former thoughts, she lifted her shot glass and put on her

game face. “We’re thrilled to have your business, Mr. Markov. We appreciate the

opportunity and look forward to the future benefits of our alliance.”

While Isaac added a sales spin to her toast, Mr. Markov responded positively with a

Russian anecdote, and all six glasses clinked over the center of the table. She opened her

throat and felt the stinging splash of vodka that created a warm trail to her stomach.

When it didn’t resurface—much to her amazement—she counted herself victorious.

Instantly, her nerves uncoiled into a relaxed state. Probably for the first time since the

week before she’d boarded a plane from Denver to St. Petersburg, her limbs relaxed and

her brain didn’t have a care in the world.

She turned to Marcus. “I’m so glad we had a chance to talk tonight.”

“As am I.” His eyes turned heavy-lidded, not from intoxication but desire.

Then she hiccupped. So embarrassing. The men chuckled as she slapped a hand over

her mouth, but her chest-rattling gasps continued.

“A few slaps on the back will help.” Marcus cuffed her on the back like she’d choked on

something. Not helpful.

The middle brother offered, “Have another shot. That’ll cure you.”

When her watery eyes bugged out, Mr. Markov let out a chortle. “No, no. The girl

won’t last through another vodka. Lemon sprinkled with sugar will do it.”

The each tossed out options, the brothers arguing over which home remedy would

cure her. From bitters in club soda to drinking a glass of water upside down. How was it

even possible, she mused, to consume a beverage upside down? The logistics made her

head spin.

Finally Isaac reached across the table, depositing his glass of water in front of her.

“Hold your nose, exhale completely, take a deep breath in, and drink the water until your

lungs are about to explode.”

Nodding, she didn’t care if she looked ridiculous. She pinched her nose, exhaled,

inhaled, and downed the glass of water. She kept drinking even though her pulse

pounded in her ears and her lungs screamed for air. She emptied the glass, dropped it to

the table, unplugged her nose and gasped for breath. She breathed heavily for a few

seconds, then her pulse settled and her hiccups were gone. “Hey, it worked!”

The Markovs marveled and then proceeded to discuss why such a simple method

offered immediate results. Was it distraction? Concentration on a procedure instead of

hiccups? Something to do with the carbon monoxide ratio to oxygen in her lungs?

She didn’t care as long as hiccups were gone. Thank you, she mouthed to Isaac, who

sent her a wink. She turned to Marcus. “Please excuse me while I use the ladies room.”

At first, Marcus gave her a blank expression but soon comprehended. How should she

know what they called the ladies room in Russian?

Once again, or for the hundredth time, she was supremely grateful for Isaac’s

presence here with her. Without him she would’ve lost her way, so many times on so

many levels.

As the director of sales, the expectations and overseeing of the entire team rested on

his shoulders. She didn’t have half of his work responsibilities, easily expendable for a

week off in Russia to pitch the company line to a foreign market. Yet, on this trip, he’d

proven invaluable not only to her, but to Soren Security as a whole. She really wanted to

tell her boss, Cade, about Isaac’s impressive skill set. Find a way to express how

invaluable Isaac had been on this journey.

But one thing at a time. Her thoughts had become a fast-paced incoherent jumble

since that last drink.

When Marcus let her out of the booth, she swayed in an attempt to gain her bearings.

Getting drunk sitting down was one thing. Getting to the bathroom drunk was a whole

new issue. She told them about her dilemma then stumbled a little, grabbing the corner

of the booth for stability.

That induced uproarious laughter among the Markovs. Did Russians never get drunk?

For half a second, annoyance infused her cheeks with prickles of resentment. Then she

decided she didn’t care. She threw them a grin over her shoulder. “Next time, gentlemen,

not so much vodka.”

Mr. Markov tossed his head back and howled with laughter. Even on a good day, with

all her faculties, she didn’t consider herself particularly funny. But whatever, if she made

them laugh—and they didn’t hold her unintended intoxication against her—then it was

fine by her.

Head swimming, she eventually navigated to the ladies room while the floor

continued to shift inconveniently beneath her high heels. She managed to use the

facilities then splashed cold water on her cheeks. After grabbing a towel and blotting her

face, she rummaged through her purse to reapply her lip gloss. She found a tissue to blot

her lips and emerged to find Isaac leaning against the wall.

She waved at him. “How are you doing?”

“Fine, sweetheart. How are you?”

“Oh, great.” She took a step and her ankle gave out in her high heel, sending her into

his chest. “Geez, sorry about that. I’m a little tipsy.”

“I noticed.” A low laugh came from his chest. “If it’s any consolation, they think you’re

adorable.”

“So glad I can amuse for everyone,” she snorted, resting her palm against his chest.

The smile faded from his handsome face. “Marcus wants to meet you for a lunch date

tomorrow. You should say yes.”

“Wh-hat? He does? Why?”

“Because he’s into you,” Isaac said dryly.

“But I’m not into him.”

The tension at the corners of his eyes tightened. “Doesn’t matter. You need to go.”

Confused and disheartened and a still a little drunk, she asked, “What if the tables

were turned? If a client flirted with you, and she made it obvious she wanted something

more than a business connection, would you go on a lunch date with her anyway?”

He hesitated. “Yes.”

She pulled away from him. “Well, congratulations. From here on out, you can go meet

any woman you want and I’ll never complain. But if that’s the way it is, then there can

never be anything between us. Satisfied?”

“Mindy, stop.”

“The only man I want to go on a date with is you.”

He turned toward her with a hopeful yet remorseful look in his eyes. “I appreciate

that. But this is a business issue. Sometimes you have to walk a fine line to clinch the

deal.”

Emotions knotted in her chest. “Then, the deal is more important than our feelings for

each other?”

“No.” He expelled a breath and ran his hands through his hair. “It’s not that simple,

but it is that straightforward.”

Cool collectedness iced over her former inebriated state. Suddenly, she was as sober

as a heart attack. “I think I get it. You’re fine with me meeting a client and letting him

take me out, flirt with me, touch me, make sexual insinuations with me, and you’re okay

with it as long as you make the sale.”

His eyes hardened. “No, it’s not okay, but—”

“That’s exactly what you’re saying.” Accusation coated her tone. “It’s okay to give a

complete stranger false hope. I’m supposed to lead him on and let him think I might

sleep with him if he signs a contract. That’s lovely, Isaac. And here I thought you had

principles. You talked about balance. If this is the balance you want, then I’m not

interested.”

He grabbed her arm and spun her toward him. “Mindy—”

Anger and hurt erupted inside her. “How am I supposed to trust you enough to have a

relationship with you, if every time I see you with an attractive female prospect I’m left

wondering how much you’re going to flirt with her? Or how far you’ll take that innuendo

until it crosses some invisible line you’ve drawn to ease your conscience?” Two tears

tracked down her face, and she quickly swiped them away. “Well, I’m not a saleswoman.

I’m not a girl who’s going to compromise my feelings to assuage your conscience. I won’t

live in constant doubt, no matter how much I want to be with you.”

“Mindy, you’re blowing this all out of proportion—”

“I don’t think so.” She jerked out of his grasp. Her heels made hard strikes on the

wood floor as she headed back to the booth.

Hell, maybe she was right.

She was tipsy, maybe even drunk, but no amount of alcohol could lessen the sting of

betrayal. Even if he hadn’t committed any relationship sin, by telling her to go out with

Marcus, he’d condoned it.

Once they returned to the booth, Isaac almost lunged across the table twice as he

suffered watching Mindy flirt with Marcus openly. Damn it, he’d given her too perfect

advice, and she’d followed it.

Their date was taking place tomorrow at noon. That’s how they left things when Isaac

parted company with them and ushered Mindy out the restaurant and into their car.

Tomorrow, Marcus might take her out to a romantic place Isaac hadn’t thought of, or

he’d make a pass at her because Isaac wasn’t there, or she’d accidentally entice Marcus

to kiss her when she hadn’t meant to…

She was really good at making men fall for her, even when she didn’t know she was

doing it. God, he’d fallen a little in love with her the moment he met her.

He helped her into bed, turned off the light and folded her in his embrace. She shoved

at him and muttered something he couldn’t understand.

“I know you’re angry with me, and I’m sorry,” he murmured. At his words, she relaxed

in his arms. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

A tear splashed onto his bicep.

He hugged her tighter. “Mindy, I promise I will never betray your trust. No sale is

worth losing you.”

*

Startled by sunlight, Mindy shot upright in bed. She glanced to her left, the place

where the entire left side of her body had been warm and welcomed.

Isaac rolled onto his side, propped his chin on his hand and faced her. Concern

shadowed his features. “How are you feeling this morning?”

She didn’t want his interest or his kindness. She wanted one thing—relief from her

screaming headache. “Advil?”

“Sure, here.”

He gave her two tablets and a blessedly cold glass of water to wash them down.

“What happened last night?”

“You, um, required some help last night.” His lips held a trace of smile, redeemed by

his expression of concern.

The complete blank in her memory disturbed her. “Why don’t I remember getting up

to our room?”

“Because I carried you.”

“What?” Oh, good Lord. Her shoulders sank. “I’ll bet that was fun.”

“Then you threw up in the bathroom,” he said, filling her in on things she wished she

didn’t know.

She buried her face in her hands. “So classy.”

A soft chuckle drifted to her. “All things considered, you held up pretty well. You

brushed your teeth on your own, as long as I held you steady over the sink. You even

remembered to take your birth control pill.”

She peeked through her fingers at him. “Seriously?”

“Then you started stripping down, and—”

She dropped her hands to her lap. “Isaac, did we…?”

To his credit, his lip curled with abhorrence. “Hell, no. I’d never take advantage of you

like that.”

“Thank you,” she mumbled, but he had no idea how much that meant to her.

“I made you drink two glasses of water before bed, hoping to give you an edge over a

hangover.”

Dismayed, she shook her head at herself. “I’m sorry I was such a disaster. Again.”

“I’d say more of a hot mess,” he said with a wink. “Emphasis on hot.”

“Oh, please.” She groaned, furious she’d drunk too much and he’d had to babysit her.

God, he looked gorgeous. Sleep-rumpled and lounging in bed like a model after a

photo shoot. She was so crazy about him.

Sober now, she also realized that last night she’d overreacted. He’d been clear-

minded and extremely professional in his response to Marcus’s request to take her out to

lunch. And totally right. She’d come on this trip in the hopes of inciting a personal

relationship with Isaac, but her main focus had to stay on the desired outcome. Isaac had

his own career goals to achieve, and she needed to make sure she came across with the

same professional courtesy he maintained so well. She couldn’t shut off her emotions, but

she’d never let them negatively impact his career.

At the same time, she respected that Isaac lived and breathed the salesman persona.

Asking him not to do his job, regardless of her discomfort, would be like telling him to

stop breathing. Not a happy situation for either of them. Certainly not for the long haul, if

it ever got that far. Which it probably wouldn’t, after last night.

“Sorry I overreacted last night. You were right. It’s just business. All about the sale.”

Quickly she scooted out of bed, grabbed the beautiful pink and black dress from the

closet and stepped into the bathroom to prepare for lunch with Marcus. After showering

and blow drying her hair, she stepped into the dress and zipped it up the side. She slid

her palms over her figure beneath the luxurious fabric. How she wished she and Isaac

were going on a date. She loved how she looked and felt in this dress, and she wanted to

feel this way beside Isaac, not Marcus.

With a heavy sigh, she shoved those useless thoughts away and applied her makeup.

Then she stepped into her high heels and walked out of the bathroom.

Isaac sat on the edge of the bed tugging a hand through his hair, until he looked up at

her and froze. His jaw went slack, just as it had in the dressing room when she’d first

tried on this dress. Once again her heart did a somersault in her chest.

But she had a job to do, right?

She grabbed her purse and headed for the door. “I guess I’ll see you in a few hours.”

Suddenly, he leaped off the bed. His arm shot out in front of her while his body heat

seeped through her dress. His palm flattened on the door, clicking the latch closed. “If

you don’t want to go, then don’t.”

Surprised by his reaction, she stared up into his dark eyes filled with conflicted

emotions she couldn’t separate. “But I thought this is what I was supposed to do—”

“Don’t go to him.” The torment twisting his features wrung her heart. “Stay with me.

Let me make love to you.”

Chapter 8

Isaac’s pride burned at the thought of her going out with another man. She looked too

beautiful to let her out of his sight or his arms. She was his, damn it.

No spoiled Russian playboy would take her away from him. Even if his actions right

now went against everything he’d been taught and believed. Last night, she made him

question all his staunch beliefs about sales and salesmanship. Why the hell should she

have to compromise her ideals to land a sale? And why had he?

Hauling her against him, he crushed her lips with his.

No more compromise. She was his—and he wasn’t going to let her walk out that door.

Right now he didn’t care what it cost him. Her eager tongue curling against his offered all

the reason he needed to change his doctrine, rethink his expectations.

Hell, he’d give up everything for her.

He broke their kiss and held her face, feeling her sweet minty breath against his lips.

“I want you,” he growled. “I’ve wanted you since the day I saw you. Nothing will change

that. Not Marcus. Not the sale. Nothing. I want you to belong to me.”

“I do,” she breathed.

God, he couldn’t ask for a better invitation. He answered with his whole heart and

soul.

Pacing himself, he forced himself to slow down. He wanted to make love to her the

way he’d promised in the tower. So he probed her mouth gently with his tongue, coaxing

her, drawing her into him. She came so willingly, his chest hurt with the passion he barely

contained.

“I’m going to make love to you, Mindy. If you want me to stop, tell me now.”

She shook her head. “I want this, too.”

The urgent request nearly undid him. Their lips met again and he swept his tongue

deep into her mouth, seeking her essence.

When her head fell back into his palm and she relaxed in his arms, he realized how

completely he wanted her, needed her. He’d never felt this way about a woman. She was

it. She was his. For eternity—even if she didn’t know it yet.

Sweeping her up in his arms, he carried her to the bed. At the edge, he set her down

and looked into her eyes. The crystal blue depths held heat and longing and a touch of

innocence he found intoxicating.

Slowly he lowered his head and claimed her mouth yet again. The urge to be inside

he r now nearly brought him to his knees. But they’d only have one first time, and he

wanted to do this right. Take it slow. Learn what she liked and what turned her on.

Explore every inch of her.

Thoroughly.

Staring with her mouth.

He parted her lips and stroked her tongue with his. Gentle, deep caresses. She

shivered and his arms went around her, holding her tight. He absorbed the way she

molded herself to him, her petite figure soft and pliant beneath his searching hands. She

made him throb everywhere.

The caveman part of his brain loved how small and delicate she was in his arms, how

dominant and powerful he felt holding her, possessing her.

The rush of endorphins lit his veins on fire. His hands slid down to cup her rounded

bottom, pulling her tight against his hard length. Her palms glided over his chest, her

touch eager yet uncertain. He knew someday he would take her out in this fantastic

dress. But right now it would look way better on the floor.

As if she’d read his mind, she reached for the side zipper.

He caught her wrist. “Let me.”

Nodding, she licked her lips. He pictured her pink tongue darting across the head of

his shaft and he swallowed a groan.

As he lowered the zipper, he admired the path it took down her hourglass figure, the

swell of her breasts, the indentation of her waist, the gentle flare of her hips. Tiny and

curvy and mouthwatering, she was the perfect gift made for him to unwrap. He could

hardly tell the difference between the silky fabric and the soft texture of her skin when he

smoothed the straps from her shoulders. He glided his palms down her arms and the

outer curves of her breasts.

The dress slithered to the floor. She stood before him in a black lace bra and matching

panties.

Possessiveness spiked his desire. He couldn’t believe he’d almost let her leave. His

heart pounded against his ribs and he dragged her against him.

All his noble intentions for slow seduction burned to ash in the fire of need consuming

him. Then she tucked her arms around his waist. Using one finger, she circled the

waistband of his underwear from back to front, grazing his hip bone.

Holy hell. He throbbed so hard, a spot of moisture appeared on the navy blue fabric.

Determined to know if he affected her that way, he kissed her neck as his hand slid

from her breast to cup her mound. Dampness soaked her panties and he moaned,

running his middle finger along her covered crease.

Picking her up, he easily positioned them at the center of the bed. He craved her taste

and wouldn’t be satisfied until he sank his tongue into her. But her pink nipples poking

through the black lace of her bra called to him first.

Settling his hips between her thighs, he unclipped her bra and captured those luscious

peaks one at a time. The hard beads contrasted with her silky soft breasts. She fit

perfectly in his hands. Like she’d been made for him. Her skin smelled like lavender. The

light touch of her perfume made him picture laying her down in a field of clover. He

soaked her in with all his senses, awed by her feminine softness and beauty.

When she arched and gasped as his mouth explored her spectacular breasts, his hips

rocked against her. He felt her dampness through two layers of cloth and decided he

needed her naked and under him. Now.

Kissing a trail from her cleavage down the subtle arcs of her ribs and the scoop of her

stomach, he paused to nibble her hip bones. Her knees fell open to accommodate the

width of his shoulders.

Mindy marveled at the feel of Isaac’s arms around her thighs, strong corded arms that

felt like thick ropes. His biceps flexed, drawing her juncture closer to his mouth. Heaven

help me.

She refused to allow a stab of guilt for ditching Marcus to distract her from the

moment. Finally, she lay in the arms of the man she’d fallen half in love with, and she

would fall for him completely if she let herself.

Her abdomen fluttered as his hands drifted over her belly. His tanned skin contrasted

with her paleness. He radiated vitality, his eyes heavy-lidded, so rich and dark she could

drown in their depths.

When the bristle of his jaw scraped her inner thighs, blood rushed through her veins.

The very tip of his tongue glided over her seam, making her calves clench and her knees

tremble.

“Relax, baby.” His husky murmur drifted over her skin. “Let me taste you.”

Hesitantly, she eased her legs wider, supported by his flexed arms. He started over,

drawing the point of his tongue across her a second time. Then he parted her with his

thumbs and repeated the motion.

As if she wasn’t wet enough, a surge of moisture trickled from her entrance. She

opened her eyes and looked down at him, silently begging for more. His chiseled cheeks

curved with a smile.

Highly sensitized, she breathed continuous moans as he bathed her with warm, moist

caresses. All concentration centered on where he stroked her with long slow laps. God, he

was really good at this.

He swept his tongue oh so slowly from her opening, up to where her clit ached for his

attention. His tongue flicked the peak and she clenched the bed sheets in her fists.

“Is that what you want?”

“Yes,” she moaned.

“Mmm. Me, too.” His mouth closed on her, sucking her, and she lifted her hips off the

mattress.

It had been so long since someone had touched her there, the sensation was sharp

and intense, almost too much. “Please…don’t stop.”

A low laugh rumbled in his chest. “An hour from now you may regret those words. But

you don’t get to take them back.”

Wait. Oral sex lasted longer than fifteen minutes? She was used to the guy getting

bored, making it obvious she needed to hurry up and come. Without that pressure

looming, her thighs relaxed their tension, allowing her to lay back and enjoy the

experience instead of rushing toward climax.

So she did. She lost herself to the divine movements of his mouth. The way he

changed his pace from slow swirling to rapid flicks, taking her to the edge. Then he drew

her back down by easing his tempo, moving lower and probing her entrance, inserting his

tongue inside her, his face moving back and forth with each penetration.

Isaac was a masterful lover, calculated, giving her just enough but not too much.

“You’re driving me crazy,” she panted.

“That’s the point.” His eyes crinkled at the corners. “Do you want me to stop?”

She shook her head violently. “No.”

“Good. Because I wasn’t going to.” He clamped his arms more firmly around her thighs

and his talented mouth resumed its sweet torment.

After seizing her clit and taking her to the brink three more times, she swore if the

wind blew the right way she’d come undone. With or without his help.

“Isaac, please.”

Finally his tongue offered the perfect rhythm against the place throbbing for release.

“Yes. Yes.”

The steady flicking motions caused her thighs to quiver uncontrollably. His strong

hands forced her to stay still.

But she couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t take…anymore… Her head thrashed and her fists

trembled in the sheets.

“Isaac!” She screamed his name and the long awaited burst shot through her with a

shattering explosion. Shards of electric sensation traveled through her veins, filling her

with orgasmic bliss. Exquisite pleasure rippled inside her, leaving her sated and relieved.

Her body hummed in the aftermath.

All the built-up tension gone, she lay in a boneless heap. She couldn’t move if she

wanted to, barely managing to catch her breath. “Oh. Wow.”

“I’m not finished with you yet.” His voice was low and rumbling and sexy as sin. She

caught the devious glint in his eyes.

Sending him a wary glance, she scooted back toward the headboard. “I can’t take any

more.”

“Yes, you can. And you will.”

“No. Isaac, I’m serious.”

His riveting gaze captured hers. “So am I.”

She blew out a breath. “Can’t you give me a minute to recover from the best orgasm

of my life?”

When he straightened and sat back on his heels, the enormous erection outlined by

his underwear stood in stark relief. “I don’t remember that being part of the deal. You

said don’t stop.”

“But…how can you top what you just did?”

He arched an eyebrow. “Is that a challenge?”

“No.” She scampered off the bed.

Stalking her movements around the room, he paced after her retreat. “You know I

can’t resist a challenge.”

Her heart dropped to her toes. “Is that why you want me? I’m a challenge?”

He stopped. “At the moment, hell yes, I want you.”

That’s what he’d reduced her to—a temporary intrigue. Crossing her arms, she glared

at him. “So what happens when the challenge is over?”

The ghost of a smile traced his lips. “That’s when I throw you over my shoulder, carry

you back to the bed and keep you there.”

“Please.” She rolled her eyes. “You’re way too tame—”

“I’ll show you tame,” he snarled softly. And did exactly what he’d warned. He scooped

her up onto his shoulder, gave her a little slap on the butt, and tossed her down to the

bed. He crawled over her, planting his beside her shoulders. “Now, what will it take to

keep you here?”

She raked her hands through his hair. The inky locks sprang back over his forehead.

“Make love to me.”

He smiled. “Your wish is my command.”

“I like this arrangement much better,” she said before he captured her mouth with a

sizzling kiss.

Parting her lips, he sucked her tongue into his mouth and stole the breath from her

chest. When she whimpered, he exhaled. She inhaled. In that moment, they became one

being.

Compelled to focus on her breathing, then his, they tasted each other’s deepest

secrets. She’d never felt this to close to anyone. Ever. An intimacy that transcended the

physical. Her body relaxed beneath him as her spirit soared.

Gradually his hips began to move against hers. His length expanded to proportions

that made her dizzy. How would he possibly fit inside her, with her body so small

compared to his? He must’ve sensed her tension, because he stopped moving his lower

half and focused exclusively on her upper body. Whispering sexy words into her ear while

his tongue caressed the rim. Nibbling her neck while his hand repositioned to cup her

breast. Gliding his thumb over her nipple while he kissed a steamy trail to the tight tip.

Worried he’d go down on her again in spite of her super-sensitivity, she cupped his

chin. He kissed her palm, his faint beard scraping her wrist. Urging his mouth back up to

hers, she kissed him with delicate strokes of her tongue.

The tempo of his heartbeat quickened against her breasts. He reached down to

remove his underwear.

And then he was there.

The soft head probed her opening, easing inside. She inhaled and her thighs clamped

his hips.

“Relax, sweetheart. I’ll go slow.” His whispered assurances continued as he withdrew,

almost pulling out, then pushed in deeper. He repeated the motion several times,

caressing her cheeks and temples, delving in further. His gentle motions allowed her

slickness to coat him.

Then he dragged his knee up higher on the bed, widening her, and plunged fully into

her heat.

The sensation of being completely filled by him sent an erotic shiver up and down her

spine. God, how she’d wanted this man. The reality of his smooth warm skin encasing

hard muscle, pressing against her whole body, exceeded every fantasy.

Closing her eyes, she hugged him and let out a sigh. His cheek brushed against hers,

his breath hot as he surrounded her, moved inside her.

One of his large hands slid into her hair, cupping the back of her head. His other hand

scooped beneath her bottom, pressing her hips up as he rocked forward, deepening the

length of his thrusts.

“God, Mindy. You feel so good.”

She murmured in agreement. She’d never experienced a partner so in tune with her

body and her soul.

Although she felt so small compared to him, he also made her feel sexually

empowered. She gave him pleasure. She made him moan. She dragged her nails up his

back and caused him to shiver. In these beautiful moments, he belonged to her as much

as she belonged to him. She couldn’t imagine being with any other man but him ever

again.

A flood of happiness washed through her. She turned her face to the side before he

saw the tear that leaked from the corner of her eye. He kissed the side of her neck that

she offered him. The scrape of his teeth against her pulse jolted her, and she closed her

legs around his waist, crossing her ankles behind his back.

“Oh, God.” His guttural groan vibrated against her throat.

Turning her face to look up at him again, she felt her breath catch in her chest at the

raw beauty of him. A hint of strain tensed his features. His lips were parted around gusts

of breath. Those huge glorious shoulders rocked above her. Every rippling muscle in his

tanned arms strove toward the ultimate pleasure.

Nothing could be more perfect than this, her heart whispered. Her body agreed.

With her legs wrapped around his waist, his erection glided inside just right. Each

thrust sent him deeper and took her closer to ecstasy.

“Yes, Isaac. Right there.”

“Mmm. So good, baby.” He deepened his thrusts, sinking lower between her thighs.

His muscular legs drove his rhythm faster. Harder.

Sliding her hands over his body, she felt every muscle straining around her, above her,

inside her. When he lifted his weight onto his forearms, she saw the glorious view of his

abs contracting. And the place where they joined. He pumped into her fast and hard.

“Oh, fuck.” His seething breath excited her.

The trembling in her core increased and spread out like streaks of lightning to her

limbs.

So close. “Please. Yes. Yes.”

She grabbed his shoulders as her inner walls clenched around him. A hurricane of

sensation swirled through her. She curled into him. The tightness throbbed and burst into

a million sparkling lights.

“Yes. God. Mindy.” He thrust hard and tensed above her.

Then he threw his head back and roared his release. She felt a hot splash as he

spasmed and rocked hard against her once. Twice. The third time his whole body

clenched before he groaned, his muscles released, and he collapsed.

“Damn, baby.” He rested his forehead on her collarbone. His heavy breaths against

her cleavage matched the heavy pulsing inside her. “You…are…incredible.”

Withdrawing slowly, he groaned again then rolled onto his side. While his right arm

cushioned her head he threw his leg over both of hers and clutched her breast as though

holding on for dear life. Or reaffirming his territorial claim. Either one was fine by her.

She arched in a luxurious stretch and kissed his sweaty forehead. “That was amazing.”

He brushed his lips against her shoulder. “You know we’re going to have to do that

again.”

“Oh?”

He nodded. “You made me lose my focus. It should’ve gone much longer.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should,” he said with an intensity that made her smile. “I came way too fast.” He

playfully bit her shoulder. “All your fault.”

“Is that so bad?” she asked, strumming her fingers along his arm that he’d draped

over her waist.

“Um, yeah. The way I’d pictured it, I would’ve taken you in every position.”

“How many is that?”

“More than we did.” He levered up onto his forearm, repositioned her head to rest in

his palm. He stared down at her with the sexiest expression. “I wanted you on top. Then

I’d take you from behind. And on the edge of the bed—”

She pressed a finger to his lips. “But wasn’t it perfect?”

As his features softened, he kissed her finger and curved his hand around hers, resting

their joined hands between her breasts. “Yes.” He sighed. “It was perfect.”

She smiled up at him. “I thought so, too.”

The depth of emotion swirling in his pitch black eyes rekindled her desire. “And who

said we were finished?”

She blinked. “Again? Already?”

Just as his erection flexed against her and he nodded, his cell phone vibrated in the

pocket of his pants draped over the chair. “Shit,” he muttered.

As he pushed upright, she stroked his face. “You don’t have to answer it.”

He stared at her grimly. “Seeing as it’s vibrated four times since I stripped you naked,

yeah, I kind of do.”

Really? She hadn’t heard a thing. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. I just ignored it.”

A sinking sensation weighed on her chest as he went to grab his phone. “Isaac Atlas,”

he answered. Immediately, he recoiled and held the phone away from his ear. Then he

cleared his throat. “Hello to you, too, Cade.” The tone of her lover’s voice didn’t bode

well. Neither did the way his shoulders hunched. “Look, we—”

She could hear Cade’s angry voice all the way from the bed. She sat up and gulped.

“No, we had a change of plans—” Again, Isaac was cut off. He crossed an arm over his

chest, supporting his elbow, and started pacing.

Not good, she thought, and swallowed again.

Isaac ran a hand through his hair looking agitated. “I get that, Cade, but—” Cut off

once more, Isaac exhaled. “Believe me,” he barked, “I know how important this sale is to

Soren Security.”

While Cade was strung a little tight, his personality was usually reasonable.

Apparently not today. Oh, this is so not good. And it’s my fault —I should’ve met Marcus.

The realization shot chills down her arms. She should’ve been on the receiving end of

Cade’s anger, not Isaac.

Driven by concern, she shot out of bed and found her phone in her purse. Dead. The

charger was in her lost luggage.

Approaching Isaac, she reached for his phone. He held out his hand to keep her at

arm’s length. “No. No, it’s totally my fault,” Isaac said.

Her blood ran cold. Why was Isaac taking the blame for her failure to meet the client’s

expectations? She couldn’t let Isaac put his career that he so loved on the line for her

mistake. She tried to take the phone from him again.

Isaac held it away, grabbed her chin, kissed her fiercely, and then locked himself in

the bathroom. Stunned, she listened through the door.

The gist of Cade’s reaming centered on Marcus’s call to headquarters when Mindy

didn’t show up to meet him. Her shoulders sank.

That’s all she seemed to do was disappoint people. Helen came roaring back into her

mind, after a whole day’s reprieve. If you want to make it in the corporate world, Mindy,

you require a better strategy. In fact, save your little sensitive self, don’t go into

Corporate America. Go into non-profit—no, still too much accountability. Go into teaching,

like your father. Sit in the ivory tower of academia where your ideals don’t have to mesh

with reality. You’ll fail miserably anywhere else.

Mindy had no one to blame but herself. She’d put herself in this position, choosing her

heart and Isaac over what her company expected of her.

Twisting her hands, she recognized Isaac’s uncomfortable but accurate suggestion

from last night. No matter how she felt about him, she should’ve put her job first. She

should’ve met Marcus and let him boast about himself, put his grimy hands on her, and

let him think she might one day sleep with him if he signed on to their company as their

first international client. Paving the way for Soren Security to spread east and make their

mark.

Oh, God, she’d ruined everything. Isaac might even lose his job. How could she fail so

miserably? Good grief, her mother had spent years warning her how her selfishness would

eventually be her downfall.

Even if she’d bothered to try, she couldn’t stop the tears from streaking down her

cheeks. Isaac had taken the fall for her. She shrank into herself, a familiar place of retreat

each time one of Helen’s prophesies about her came true.

Wiping her useless tears, she sat on the bed, unable to meet Isaac’s eyes when he

finally came out of the bathroom. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

Isaac shook his head. “It’s nothing.”

“Cade’s frustration should’ve been directed at me. Not you.”

“Hey…hey, it’s nothing to be upset about.” When he knelt in front of her and took her

hands in his, she pulled away and crossed her arms over her stomach. “I should’ve

listened to you last night. I was stupid, and short-sighted, and selfish—”

“Mindy.” He cupped her chin. “You are one of the smartest, most passionate people I

know.”

Turning her head to the side, she forced him to drop his hand. “None of that matters. I

should’ve done better. I should’ve faced Marcus, no matter how much I didn’t want to, no

matter how he treated me.”

“Stop. Right there.” Isaac’s fierce tone pulled her gaze to his. “I gave you the

alternative. You were practically out the door when I asked you to stay.”

The tears burned again, but she refused to let them fall. “You wouldn’t have asked if

I’d been stronger, more focused on my job priorities. You gave me great advice last night,

and when I didn’t listen, it fell back on you.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t want you to listen to me. I wanted you to forget Marcus, so I

could keep you here and make love to you. We’re both to blame. I’m okay with

shouldering that.”

She shook her head. “I was stubborn. In a way, I forced you to choose between me

and your job. That’s not fair. It’ll never be fair, but that’s how I am. I can’t help it. I’m a

failure.”

“Baby.” He pulled her into his arms and tucked her head against his shoulder. “Baby,

you’re too hard on yourself. Stop that. And you’re anything but a failure.” He drew back

and held her face. “Look how you charmed the Markovs. Even drunk you won them over.

What you consider your ‘problem’ is what endeared them to you. You did nothing wrong,

sweetheart. In fact, because of you, they decided to come to the U.S. to visit our

company in person.”

“That doesn’t equal a sale,” she retorted. “Because I left the SOS device, the best

chance at a sale, in my lost luggage.”

“Who cares?” His features strained with frustration. “One of my sales mentors when I

was sixteen taught me how to sell swimming pools. We could’ve been selling dog shit for

fertilizer. The thing is, it wasn’t about the product. We sold the idea of how great it would

be to have a pool in the backyard for their kids to play in when a heat wave hit Last

Vegas.”

Unimpressed by the obvious, she shrugged. “So?”

“So the main goal was to get inside the house, since we were selling door to door.

The moment we sat down with them at their kitchen table, we could bank on the sale.”

“I still don’t get it.”

He smoothed his thumbs across her cheeks. “Every major decision a family makes

often comes down to discussions around the kitchen table, I don’t care who you are or

what your background. You got the client to cross oceans and time zones to sit at the

table with us and discuss negotiations. I can promise you they wouldn’t go through the

trouble if they didn’t know on some level they’d sign on with us. And that’s because of

you.”

She dropped her gaze. “I guess.”

“Cade is pissed for no reason. He knows I’ll make the sale. Or, if he doesn’t, I

guarantee Trey Soren has my back. He knows me better than anyone. He’ll take this

glitch in stride.” Isaac kissed her softly. “Baby, you’re worried for no reason.”

“But…” Her chin trembled. “This isn’t totally about you. They all know how great and

capable you are. This was about me proving I can handle a sale and get a client to fall in

love with Soren Security.”

He eyed her sincerely. “Mindy, you’ve done that. They’re coming to our headquarters.”

“Unless Marcus decides not to because I didn’t come through.”

Isaac said nothing for a few moments, which reinforced her mother’s words and

doubts.

“Face it. If it wasn’t for you, I would’ve ruined this trip completely. I’ll never be given a

second chance to make a first impression.”

“That’s not—”

“You know it’s true.” Her gaze bored into his and he glanced away. “I’m not stupid. I

know what it takes to make it in this business. I wanted to, I truly did, but it’s obvious I’m

not cut out for sales.”

“Don’t count yourself out yet.”

“Why not?” She shoved away from him. “We’ll both have to face Trey. When we do,

we both know what we need to say. And I hold you to a very high standard.” Her eyes

met his and held fast. “You must be truthful. That’s the only way to make this right and

do what’s best for the company. It’s not about us.”

A hint of defeat drew down the corners of his mouth.

“You can’t lie to Trey like you did to Cade.”

Isaac dipped his chin. “I hear you. I’m not going to lie.”

When his gaze returned to hers, she found so much compassion in the depths she

couldn’t bear to look at him. She stood, brushed past him and dressed for the plane ride

home, which would take off within three hours.

As Isaac released a distressed sigh, the phone in their room rang. He answered,

thanked the man, and set the phone in the cradle. “Maybe we beat your Mercury

retrograde after all. Our luggage just arrived.”

While Isaac went down to the lobby to retrieve their newfound luggage and bring up a

garment bag he’d ordered for her new wardrobe, Mindy glanced at the bed where he’d

made passionate love to her. Despite her stress over their jobs, a wistful heartache

settled under her ribs. Housekeeping would have no doubt about the phenomenal sex

that had happened between those sheets. She placed her hand over her abdomen.

A fresh wave of longing poured through her when she thought of how he’d taken her,

entered her, stretched her, and made her deliciously sore. No matter what, she’d never

regret the incomparable experience of being made love to by Isaac. His skill and mastery

made for the best memories of her life.

Nothing could take that away or lessen the beauty of what they’d shared, even if their

careers or personal choices mandated they never touch each other romantically again.

A frown pulled at her lips and her heart knotted. They both needed time apart to think

long and hard about their priorities. About what mattered more, what mattered most, at

this stage of their lives. She needed to accept they may come to different conclusions and

decide to part ways.

The knots in her chest tightened, but if nothing else, Helen had taught her to be

pragmatic. Like a dozen fresh-cut roses, no matter how stunning and memorable, some

things simply weren’t meant to last.

With that truth weighing heavy on her, she finished getting dressed and then packed

both their carryon suitcases.

When she reached the door, she paused and looked back. The sexily rumpled bed

sheets were the only proof they’d been here, and soon those would be disposed of down

a laundry shaft, erasing all that she’d experienced during this life-altering trip. She hoped

the result would be life-altering in a good way, in the best way, and somehow she and

Isaac would end up together.

But she’d learned long ago hopes were best tempered by worst-case scenario

expectations. Thank you, Helen.

The times Mindy felt at her worst and most insecure, Helen was always at her best

and most biting. Mindy was tired of the advice and comparisons. Exhausted, actually. The

first thing she planned to do when she returned home was to write an op-ed piece, even

if she only found publication in the local paper, detailing her experience abroad. How

sometimes an unfortunate mistake becomes a most fortunate outcome. Then she’d sent

the clip to her mother and explained that while she might not live up to her mile-high

expectations, her life in the Mile High city amounted to something. She had a career she

was proud of and a future she looked forward to.

Strangely, a weight lifted from her psyche. She felt more empowered now than she

had in years. She looked forward to creating the first draft of her op-ed piece on the god-

awful long plane ride home.

Bearing their carryon luggage, she passed Isaac in the lobby. He suggested she go out

to the car awaiting them, that he’d take the new wardrobe bag and pack up the last of

the clothes, then he’d meet her at the car.

Agreeing, she stepped out to the curb and waved toward their driver with a smile. She

wanted to express her gratitude to the man who’d carted them around St. Petersburg

without complaint for four days.

Unfortunately, the man who stepped out from the tinted-windowed driver’s side

wasn’t their driver. “Where’s James?” she asked.

The gruff man snatched the suitcases out of her hand and shoved them in the trunk as

if they were garbage. “Unavailable. The Markovs sent me.”

How odd, since James had been at her and Isaac’s beck and call the whole time they’d

been here. Not to mention their new driver gave off a nasty vibe she didn’t appreciate.

“Is this all you got today?” he demanded.

Put off by his presumptuous manner, she had to assume Isaac had relayed the ordeal

about their missing bags. “The rest is coming.”

Nodding curtly, he returned to the driver’s seat, slamming the door. Someone was in a

grouchy mood, she thought, climbing into the back seat.

While waiting for Isaac to bring out their newly acquired luggage plus her wardrobe

bag, she tried to be pleasant. “I’m Mindy. What’s your name?”

“Sig,” he muttered.

“Nice to meet you, Sig.” She extended her hand toward the front seat, but he didn’t

respond in kind.

Instead, his knuckles gripped the steering wheel—knuckles that bore a gold ring with

a large oval jade stone.

Panic flashed through her. Oh, my God. It’s him. The thief who tried to rob me.

The man’s height, his weight, his meaty fists and his cigarette breath came at her

hard. “You…”

Suddenly, his glance flicked up into the rearview mirror with cold recognition in his

eyes. That’s when she knew for sure. It was him. The man who’d brutalized her and

terrified her in the hotel room.

His eyes widened and he reached toward his waist.

Infuriated, Mindy grabbed the knife from her purse and held it against his throat.

“Don’t. You. Dare.”

Chapter 9

From her position in the back seat, she had the upper hand. Her knife’s edge rested

against his carotid artery. Whatever badass people he associated with, apparently he

realized that with one slice, she could end his life.

Lifting his hands in a gesture of surrender, he glared at her murderously.

“It was you, wasn’t it? You held me captive and tried to steal the security device. The

one that just arrived today in our missing luggage.”

A tap on the darkened window was Isaac’s attempt to have the driver open the trunk.

A powerful vengeance she didn’t even know she contained rushed through her.

Reaffirming her grip on the knife, she told him, “Roll down the window.”

He hesitated.

She seethed, “If you think for one second I don’t know how to use this weapon, or

won’t, you’re wrong.”

The man held up his index finger and she followed its movement toward the right rear

window adjuster.

“Isaac,” she yelled. “Get away from the car. Don’t let this driver come near our

luggage.”

The second he saw her expression and the way she clutched her knife, Isaac raced to

the driver’s side door and yanked it open. “Get out,” he said. “Before she slits your throat.

Before I let her.”

Bug-eyed and caught by surprise, the thief made a move to exit the vehicle. Then his

fist made a sudden arc toward Isaac, who met the man’s hand by grabbing his wrist,

twisting and pinning it behind his back.

The man yelped the same way she had when he’d thrown her against the wall during

his escape. The coward. “You work as a driver for the Markovs don’t you? Don’t you?”

“Yes,” the man admitted with a groan of pain, thanks to Isaac.

Anger shaking in her tone, she told him, “Serves you right for what you did me to me.”

Then she sent a less angry and more relieved expression to Isaac. “Thanks for having my

back.”

“You know it.” He nodded as if the alternative were unthinkable.

While holding the man incapacitated with one hand, Isaac called the Markovs. She

silently questioned him, but he said, “Trust me, people like the Markovs have their own

form of justice.”

Mindy caught the terrified expression on the burglar’s face and knew right then justice

definitely would be served.

A few minutes later, Mr. Markov arrived, stepped out and shook hands with Isaac. “I

beg your apology, sir. We will fix this troubling issue in our ranks.”

Isaac nodded, looking relieved to get rid of the traitor into the back seat of Mr.

Markov’s car. They drove off and in pulled James to take their place.

He stepped onto the sidewalk and Mindy raced up to give him a big hug. “I never

thought I’d be so happy to see you, James.”

The man blushed under his cap.

“You’ve taken great care of us while we’ve been here,” she told him. “I can’t thank

you enough.”

Isaac withdrew a wad of Russian currency bills from his wallet and stuffed them into

James’s hand. “I think he understands,” he murmured to her.

James whistled a pleasant tune all the way to the airport. Whatever amount Isaac had

given him must’ve made the man’s day or week…or year.

Halfway to the airport, she finally released her grip on the knife, folding her hands on

her purse. Isaac seemed to take that as an opening for dialogue since neither had spoken

much. “Nice moves, by the way. In a questionable situation, always aim for the jugular,

and you did.”

After her heart finally calmed its rhythm, taking solace in his words, she exhaled a

deep breath. “I never would’ve done that, defended myself, if not for you.”

He brushed her hair back from her face. “Now you know you can.”

They didn’t talk much on the plane ride home. Their layover in London consisted of

small talk about their sight-seeing excursion. But neither of them touched on the kiss he’d

given her at the palace that led to their phenomenal lovemaking.

To her surprise, he seemed reserved. As if he were uncertain, perhaps questioning if

her passion for him would cross the time zones back to their final descent into Denver.

She wanted to tell him her passion would cross any chasm of time or space, including

forever, if only she could find a way to say that without sounding desperate or lonely or

foolish. She also wished she knew what would happen when they both sat in front of their

CEO, Trey Soren, and Trey demanded an explanation why she’d didn’t meet Marcus, their

wealthy new client, to explore their own special chemistry.

They returned to Denver on Monday, and she fully expected Isaac to ignore his own

sleep deprivation to reconnect with his sales team. He proved her right, working a full

day at the office. Whereas Cade took one look at her and gave her two days off—

mandatory.

Cade was a highly perceptive man. The word sensitive might’ve been used by some,

but Mindy had worked side by side with Cade long enough to know he wasn’t the clichéd

sensitive artist type, although some came away with that impression upon meeting him.

No, Cade had a gift for sizing up and reading people. He often gave whatever impression

people expected of him, a bit of a chameleon in that regard. While he wasn’t sensitive in

an artistic angsty way, he sensed just by looking at someone what that person needed.

While he was stunningly handsome, Cade carried much more depth beneath the surface

than people gave him credit for. And she gratefully accepted the two days off he’d

demanded on her behalf.

Not once did Isaac call her. Not once did he email or drop by or give any indication he

cared about what they’d shared in Russia.

Mindy finished her news piece about her adventure in Russia, sent it to her contact at

the Denver Post, and they published it on Wednesday. She tore out the article and sent it

to her mother with a note: I’m not all you had imagined I would be, but I’m where I’d

always imagined I wanted to be. She also sent the clipping to her father. Daddy, thank

you for the dollhouse you built me so many Christmases ago. I got to see the real thing,

and it was just as magical.

That entire Wednesday, not one Helenism entered her mind. She did some fall

cleanup in the flowerbeds of her condo’s mini backyard and felt somewhat productive.

That night she downloaded the movie Indiana Jones: Raiders of the Lost Ark. Obviously,

her imagination had taken liberties with regard to the restaurant where they’d met the

Markovs. Although it wasn’t that far off…

Then she went to her solitary bed and let a few tears leak into her pillow. She missed

Isaac. The warmth of his body. The power of his presence. The safety of his arms.

She didn’t look up what her astrologer said about the likelihood of their compatibility.

She based her emotions solely on how much she missed him, how great they were

together, and the passion they’d shared. In the deepest, most sacred part of her heart,

she doubted any man would ever compare to Isaac. He was the one she wanted, would

always want to be with, for one day or a thousand.

Thursday she returned to work, gave Cade an update favorable to both her and

Isaac’s careers, and then began to dread running into her one-time lover. Although she

tried to maintain her upbeat personality, several coworkers asked if something was

wrong. “No,” she said, “just tired from my trip.”

Meanwhile her heart clenched and her stomach refused to let her eat anything. God,

was she that hopelessly in love with him?

Finally, mid afternoon the phone call came from Trey Soren. “I’d like to meet with you

and Isaac in my office.”

When Trey made a request he meant now.

With shaky legs, she got up from her desk and decided to walk the three floors to her

CEO’s office. As she pushed through the door and stepped into the hallway, the elevator

doors at the other end parted. Her stomach dropped.

Out strolled Isaac looking impossibly handsome, completely put together, fresh and

un-sleep-deprived. The complete package. And so opposite her, she thought, the familiar

ache of disappointment returning to her chest.

The second he saw her, he broke into a run. She stopped dead in the middle of the

hall, frozen, not sure what to do.

When he reached her, he grabbed her and twirled her around, while her arms

remained stiff at her sides. “Mindy, I’ve been looking all over for you. Didn’t you get my

message the past two days?

Honestly, when she returned today she hadn’t gone through all her messages, fielding

calls from inside the office and requests for Cade to address the media about this, that,

and the other. “I didn’t,” she admitted.

“Jesus.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I couldn’t find you in the office. I thought you

were avoiding me.”

Me, avoiding him? The thought was ludicrous.

“I hoped that wasn’t the case, but why—?”

The door beside them swung open, and Trey stepped into the frame. “If you don’t

mind, I’ll ask the questions for the next thirty minutes.”

Contrite, they both took a seat in the leather chairs opposite Trey’s desk. Trey closed

the door, approached, and smoothed a hand down his tie as he sat down facing them.

Trey looked so official in his three-piece suit, and Isaac looked devastatingly

handsome as always. Nervous, she crossed her legs. She noticed Isaac’s glance flicker her

way as if he couldn’t help himself. A thread of hope wound around her heart.

Unexpectedly, Trey started laughing. A soft, intelligent laugh that made her retreat in

her chair further away from Isaac. “I see.” Trey steepled his fingers. “You two are going

to sit across from me and pretend you’re not in love with each other.”

She sucked in a breath. “Sir—”

“Now hold on a minute,” Isaac said, sitting forward in a defensive posture.

“Relax.” Trey held up his hands. “My wife informed me the day you two left together

that you’d come back as a couple.”

As if on cue, Devon Leigh Soren burst into the room. “There you are.” She rushed

toward Mindy. “I couldn’t wait until you got back so I could show you the pictures of our

kids.” With proud joy, Devon thrust three photos into Mindy’s hands. “Aren’t they

beautiful? The oldest at five is Kristin, the boy Benjamin is four, and Bethany’s the baby.”

Completely caught off guard, Mindy blinked. “You’re getting three children? At once?”

“They’re a sibling group we’re adopting from the Philippines. Aren’t they precious?”

The excitement in Devon’s eyes was so genuine and loving, Mindy’s own eyes teared

up. She glanced at Trey, then back at Devon. “I’m so happy for you.”

Regarding his wife with affection and frustration, Trey coughed into his hand. “Honey,

we’re in the middle of a serious work matter.”

Devon rolled her eyes. “This is more important. Talk to Isaac, I’m stealing Mindy for a

few minutes.”

Shrugging helplessly, Mindy accepted Devon’s grasp on her arm and followed her into

the hallway.

“I’ve met them, Mindy.” The compassion in Devon’s dark eyes was unmistakable. “We

went to the Philippines to meet our babies. They had my heart the second I saw them.”

Mindy clasped Devon’s hands, sharing the excitement. In the year and two months

she’d worked for Soren Security, she’d befriended the aloof and spectacular Devon Leigh.

The woman could give someone a sidelong glance and have them cowering in a corner.

She was a ball-busting, take no prisoners personality, but since she and Trey had

married, Devon had no problem showing her softer side around the office.

Mentally taking a time-out from her career dilemmas, she gave the photos a closer

look. The sweetly hopeful look in the children’s dark eyes reminded her of the few times

she’d caught Trey looking at Devon that way, before they were an item, before they’d

married.

Mindy blinked away emotional tears while she admired the photos—and the

miraculous way the universe worked. “Devon, your children are beautiful.”

“I knew you’d understand how much this means to me, how much they mean to me.”

“I’m so happy for you and your new family.”

Devon’s gaze sharpened. “Okay, what’s wrong?”

“What? Nothing.”

“If you were trying to convince me, you failed.”

Mindy covered her face with her hands. “Oh, Devon. I don’t know what to do about

Isaac.”

Devon arched an eyebrow. “I do.”

Leave it to Devon to take charge and give solid advice. Mindy lifted her chin. “Really?”

The woman nodded. “Give in to it, gorgeous. You and Isaac—I saw that coming ages

ago.”

“You did?”

Waving her hand like it was a foregone conclusion, Devon shrugged. “I knew he was

in love with you back at the office pool party, months ago.”

“But how—?”

“Trust me.” Devon winked. “Don’t you doubt that man’s devotion to you for one

second. He’s talked about nothing else but you since he got back.”

Shock hit her chest. “He has?”

With a firm nod, Devon said, “His sales team has already taken bets as to when he’ll

propose.”

“No.” Mindy gasped. How could everyone else know this but her?

“I wouldn’t mislead you, girl. Not when love is at stake. Trey’s not going to punish

either of you. My husband just wants the drama to be over so people can get back to

business as usual.”

“That’s the problem,” Mindy whispered. “Isaac is so dedicated to his job…how will he

find room for me?”

Devon’s eyes held a wise gleam. “I’ll let him answer that.”

Just as she spoke, Trey’s door opened and Isaac stepped out. “Trey wants to talk to

you next. Alone.”

She wished she could read Isaac’s expression, but he wore a poker face she couldn’t

penetrate. Clenching her hands, she returned to her CEO’s office, deathly afraid to learn

the full ramifications of how badly she’d botched the job in Russia. Especially Marcus’s

reaction to her no-show.

“Please sit down, Mindy.”

Unsure what to do with herself, she launched into an explanation. “Sir, Marcus Markov

wants to come see you.”

“Yes, Isaac told me that.”

“I described you to him, explained how you’d taken your family business from the

streets of Las Vegas to the high rises of Denver—”

“Mindy. Stop. I appreciate all your efforts during the trip. Cade put a big burden on

you, took you way out of your comfort zone, and from what Isaac tells me you were the

star of the show.”

No, that wasn’t the truth at all. “I disagree, sir. Isaac made the trip a success. He was

so supportive. Honestly, he did everything. I would’ve accomplished nothing without

him.”

“Interesting.” Trey eyed her silently for a moment. “He said the exact same thing

about you.”

She choked on her disbelief. “He did? Are you sure?”

“In fact,” Trey said with a smile, “he told me that you two need to pursue more

contacts like the Markovs. Because he said you are a perfect team, and he couldn’t

imagine returning to Russia with anyone else but you.”

“Really? He said that?” Her jaw might’ve hit the floor.

“When he finally stopped signing your praises, I told him you two needed to get a

room and get this mutual admiration thing out of your systems.”

Unnerved by her boss’s observation, she wasn’t sure how to respond. “Then will Isaac

and I work together in the future?”

“Definitely.” Trey sent her a frustrated look. “And you guys really need to have a heart

to heart conversation. In private. God knows I don’t need all these pheromones pinging

off you two disrupting the production of my other employees.”

Embarrassed, her cheeks burned with a blush. “Yes, sir. I understand. I promise—”

“Mindy, go to Isaac. He’s waiting for you in the hall.”

“Oh. Thank you, sir.” Nervousness engulfed her sense of relief, leaving her self-

conscious and uncertain what to expect.

Holding her breath, she walked out Trey’s door.

Isaac opened his arms and she rushed into them. “I didn’t get your messages, Isaac.

So I thought what happened in Russia didn’t mean anything to you.”

He kissed her neck. “Then you weren’t avoiding me?”

“Never,” she whispered.

He brushed the hair from her eyes and cupped her face. “Mindy, you need to

understand something. I’ve been in love with you since the day I met you.”

Her chest heaved and tears welled in her eyes. “You have?”

His eyes turned clear and confident as he gazed down at her. “Yes, I have.”

“I love you, too,” she said and met his lips as his head lowered.

Belatedly, she realized that this probably wasn’t the ideal place for such declarations.

But Isaac kissed her passionately anyway. Then he bent her over his arm to deepen the

kiss, and she met his thrusts with her own raw passion.

Claps and cheers rose up from the floors beneath them. Immediately, she shoved

against his chest and he brought her upright. She glanced down at five floors of workers

staring up at them from each level of glass railings.

Unconcerned about their audience, he kissed and sipped her lips. “I heard my sales

team has a running wager on when I’d ask you to marry me.”

As excitement swirled through her, she smiled conspiratorially. “I heard the same

rumor from Devon.”

“Well.” His dark eyes peered into hers with heart-wrenching adoration and enough

love to last a lifetime. “I bet they didn’t expect me to do it today.”

When Isaac dropped to one knee in front of her, she could barely breathe. Her heart

lurched and her vision went fuzzy at the edges. All she could focus on were his soulful

dark eyes.

“Mindy, will you marry me?”

He withdrew a ring box from his pocket and opened it. The flash of the largest

diamond she’d ever seen nearly blinded her. There it was, the glittering proof of his love,

of the forever with him she’d always hoped for.

“Yes!” She flung herself into his arms.

Kneeling on the floor with him, she felt his warm hands brush tears from her cheeks.

“You’ve had my heart for a long time. You’re the only woman I want to share my life

with, my hopes and dreams with.”

As he slipped the ring onto her finger, she nodded. “Until I met you, I didn’t think

everything I wanted in a man actually existed.” A thought occurred to her and her

excitement soared. “Can we have our honeymoon in Russia?”

With a firm nod, he gazed at her with absolute love in his eyes. “When we go back, I’ll

give you your own palace, and make sure, for the rest of your life, you know how much I

treasure you.”

And because it was Isaac who would share all her dreams, she knew their adventures

had only just begun.

About the Author

A Barnes & Noble Nook best-selling author, Kristi Avalon is passionate about writing

romance novels. There is nothing more satisfying than seeing love triumph over
adversity, as characters change and grow into better people because of each other. And,
of course, happily ever after!

Kristi holds a master’s degree in English from John Carroll University. When she’s not

escaping into fiction, she works as a technical writer, and loves sharing a glass of good
wine with great friends. She lives in Northeast Ohio with her heroically patient (and
handsome!) husband, an enthusiastic Australian Shepherd, and a cranky cat. She loves
hearing

from

readers!

Contact

her

at

www.facebook.com/kristiavalon

or

[e-mail]

.

For more information, please check out her website:

www.kristiavalon.com

.

Other Books by Kristi Avalon

Billionaire Bodyguard Series

Billionaire Bodyguard – A novel featuring Logan & Allison Defended & Desired – A novel

featuring Trey & Devon Bedded by her Bodyguard – A novella featuring Isaac & Mindy

Taken & Tempted – Coming Fall/Winter 2013, featuring Cade & Kylie