by Nic Saint
“When you asked me all those questions, I didn’t know whether to kill you or make love to you.”
“I’m glad you finally made up your mind,” she murmured, darting kisses along his jawline, now lightly dusted with stubbles. She enjoyed the rough sensation on her skin. A man’s unshaven face in the early morning.
He eyed her tenderly. “I owe you an apology.”
“And I you.”
He smiled, and it lit up her world. “So I guess that makes us even.”
“I guess it does.”
He kissed the corner of her mouth, then ran his hand along her side until he reached her hip and let it rest there, the sensation of this newfound intimacy new to her and him. “I love you, Julia.”
Her eyes flashed open at this unexpected confession. “What?” she managed.
“I knew it from the first time you walked into that interview room.” He eyed her seriously. “I wanted you then, and I want you now.”
“Oh, Yulian.”
“You’re one hell of a reporter, Miss Stern. You nailed me with one look.”
“Would you believe I felt the same thing?”
He smiled. “Is that why you were so hard on me?”
“I guess it was,” she confessed.
“I know it’s why I was so hard on you. Denial.” He brushed a strand of hair from her brow. “But no more. I want you in my bed, Julia.”
“I am in your bed,” she pointed out.
“For the rest of my life.”
Her heart skipped a beat, and she blinked.
“Be my wife, Miss Stern, and I promise you can ask me all the questions you want for the rest of your life.”
“Is that a promise?” she breathed.
He pressed a kiss to the top of her nose. “That’s a promise.”
From beyond the bedroom, Ruslan heard only the soft rustling of sheets that were the telltale signs of a couple engaging in that most hallowed ritual of all: the sexual dance. He smiled one of his rare smiles. The smiles he reserved for occasions when he was gratified beyond self-restraint.
He’d resisted the urge to intervene when Miss Stern had arrived with that horrible Gorev creature in tow, and had allowed events to play out naturally instead. His young master, he knew, had some things to clear up with the feisty reporter, and what better way to do so than to slay a common enemy?
He let a kindling eye hover over the three Gorevs as he stood watch, his trusty club placed snugly in the palm of his hand. Suddenly, one of the three brothers stirred. A tap from the club, and all was quiet once again, save for the sounds of love coming from the bedroom.
Soon, wedding bells would ring out, he knew, and he would be the one to bear the rings. He would do so with love in his heart, and pride writ large on his rough-hewn features. He knew this was a match made in heaven. Had known from the moment Miss Stern posed the first question and Yulian’s jaw dropped.
Sometimes, the hard-nosed man pondered in a rare moment of sentiment, life was simply grand.
RUSSIAN ENFORCER’S BURNING OBSESSION
Russian Enforcers 5 (Erik & Jackie)
Nic Saint
CHAPTER 1
“There’s never been anyone quite like you,” Susan said as she eyed her friend admiringly.
“And thank heavens for that,” Jackie quipped in response, heaving her Martini glass in a salute to both the heavens and Susan.
The two friends were relaxing on sunloungers and soaking up the rays before returning indoors. Life had been good since they’d won their two-week sojourn in sunny Cancun, and they were making the most of it while the taking was good.
“I still think we should have taken those guys up on their offer,” continued Susan, referring to the two men who’d offered them drinks the night before at the bar. “Those were two good-looking specimens.”
“I’m glad we said no,” stated Jackie decidedly. “They looked like they’d walked straight out of some creepy stalker movie.” She shivered as she thought back to the men. They’d both been ruggedly handsome, granted, but there’d been something about them that had made her blood turn to ice. They had gangster written all over them. Of course she hadn’t said that to her friend, not wanting to come across like a wuss, but there it was.
“I thought the one who came on to you was the cutest of the two,” opined Susan as she bit her lower lip.
“They both looked exactly alike,” countered Jackie. “Big and dangerous.”
“So? We’ve never double dated before. I think it’s about time we did.”
Jackie lay back on her chaise longue and luxuriated, enjoying the feel of the heat on her skin. It didn’t happen every day that their boss, notoriously stingy, granted members of his staff a getaway at a five-star hotel, and she’d decided to make the most of it. And even though that left room for men, it didn’t include complications. And getting involved with two mobsters most assuredly spelled trouble with a capital T.
“I’m glad we told them to take a hike,” she murmured as her eyes drifted closed once again.
The breeze wafting in from the sea was lending a modicum of cool, mitigating the scorching sun that was slowly rising to its zenith. It was April, but temperatures were soaring. In spite of the sound of people flopping about in the pool, she soon drifted off into a light slumber.
As legal secretaries for Peterson Enterprises, she and Susan could never afford a vacation at this hotel on their measly salaries, so when their manager had included their names in the annual vacation lottery, they’d been more than thrilled. Though chances were slim they’d come out on top—what with about a thousand other employees to contend with—Jackie’d still hoped fate would smile on them. And then it had. And not only had they both been picked, they’d been awarded the exact spot Jackie had always dreamed of: the Copacabana Hotel in Cancun, with two hundred and forty days of sunshine per year. She’d pored over TripAdvisor, and had raved when People Magazine wrote that even George Clooney and his wife had stayed at the resort and had loved it.
Well, if it was good enough for George and Amal…
The fuss had been absolutely justified. When the waiters weren’t running to and fro topping their cocktails, they were doing their utmost—and in the most obsequious way possible—to accommodate their every wish or demand.
At the Copacabana, the customer was king, and that was a way of life Jackie could most definitely get used to. Pity their two weeks would be over soon, and then it was back to the grindstone. But she refused to think about that. She would make the most of it until the very last day, or else her name wasn’t Jacqueline Bouchard.
“Susan?” she muttered lazily.
“Mh?” her friend replied, just as lazily.
“Did you ever think we’d see this day? Us? In this place?”
“Nope, sure didn’t,” replied her friend with a silly grin.
Her eyes opened with an extreme effort when a shadow fell over her face and glancing up, she noticed a man standing over her, blocking the sun. He was built like a linebacker, but because he had the sun at his back, she could only make out his profile, which was impressive.
“You’re in my spot,” the man grumbled.
“What?” she said softly, shielding her eyes with her hand. “What did you say?”
“You’re in my spot, lady,” the man repeated. “I was here before you.”
She shook her head. “Impossible. We’ve been here since right after lunch.”
“Yeah, no way you were here first,” agreed Susan. “Better find another spot, buddy. We ain’t moving an inch.”
The man seemed to weigh his options for a moment. With so many other places to sit, Jackie didn’t understand why he would be targeting hers. She waved a hand. “Pick your spot. Plenty of other chairs.”
The man’s eyes remained on her, however, and she grew nervous under his scrutiny. Since she was only dressed in her bikini, her breasts barely concealed by her top, she’d grown accustomed to men staring at her, but the intense look this g
uy was awarding her was long, steady, and disconcerting.
She slipped her sunglasses, which had been perched on the top of her head, back onto the bridge of her nose, and was afforded a better look at her opponent. He was tall and bronzed, his face an image of male perfection: angular features, a perfectly shaped mouth, strong jawline, slightly tousled auburn hair, and long lashes. He was young, she thought, and astonishingly handsome. The only thing marring perfection, was the scowl he was directing at her, and as she let her eyes drop to his finely chiseled muscular torso, she saw that he’d planted his hands on his hips and was not about to give up his claim just because she said so.
“Look, lady,” he started again, but then a call rang out on the other side of the pool, and the man looked up. He must have recognized the other man, for he waved. Then, after a final dirty look in her direction, slowly made his way over to his friend. As her eyes followed his progress, she noticed that all the other chairs had filled up, not a single one left. So that’s why he’d been so pissed.
Well, too bad for him.
“Wow, did you get an eyeful of that?” Susan gasped as they both watched the man waltz off in the other direction.
“I did,” she muttered as she admired the guy’s perfectly shaped glutes, only barely concealed by black swimming trunks.
“Now tell me again you’re glad we didn’t take him up on his offer last night.”
She blinked, trying to make the connection. “Do you mean to say this is the guy from last night?”
“Uh-huh. Him and Hunky Hunk over there.”
The guy had now reached the other side of the pool, and plunked his gorgeous frame down on the one remaining pool chair his friend had managed to secure. She squinted, trying to make the connection. Susan was probably right. She was better at recognizing faces than she was. To be honest, she hadn’t really given them all that much attention, her mind made up about accepting drinks from guys. She had a firm policy in place, and had decided not to waver from it.
“No wonder he was pissed,” Susan opined with a chortle. “First you blow him off, then you hog his seat. The guy must hate your guts, Jackie.”
“He probably does,” she muttered, but then the guy was flicking his gaze to her, and she quickly looked away. On a complication-free vacation this was definitely one complication she was adamant to avoid.
The guy spelled trouble with a capital T and she wasn’t about to fall into that particular trap. No, sir. Not on her life.
CHAPTER 2
Erik eyed the blonde with a smoldering eye. She was a real looker, and the moment he laid eyes on her the week before, he’d decided she would end her sojourn in his bed. Now, one week later, he still didn’t even know her name, and he was as far from landing her in his bed as he’d ever been.
She was willowy and lean, with legs that ran for miles, pert breasts that would fit perfectly in his hands, and straight hair the color of ripe wheat that deftly danced around her slim shoulders when she sashayed, a trusty paperback in her hand. A romance novel, if he wasn’t mistaken. So the lady did have an interest in men. Just not in him.
“She’s not interested, bro,” his friend intoned lazily beside him.
He flicked his angry eye to Bruno, not liking how predictable he was. Or how lame.
“There’s plenty of other chicks,” Bruno added. “Why don’t you try your seduction technique on one of them, instead of wasting it on that one?”
It was reasonable advice, Erik thought, and yet there was something about this one woman that appealed to him above all others. She had something—that elusive something it seemed he’d been looking for since the day he crawled from his crib. She seemed aloof—absolutely uninterested in the other sex, and perhaps that was the reason he was so obsessed with her. It was crazy, he knew. He should look away. Forget about her. But he couldn’t. Every time he stepped from his room, his eyes were roaming the place, trying to find her.
Even though he didn’t know the first thing about her, he felt strangely upset when she wasn’t amongst those present. In those moments, he felt a strange ache, a deep longing to know all there was to know about her. And to land her in his bed.
Nuts.
“You’re right,” he sighed. Last night he’d made his move. She’d shot him down without even looking over. He even doubted if she’d known the offer for drinks came from him. As if she’d dismissed him out of hand.
“Forget about her,” Bruno said when he was finished laughing his ass off.
And he knew his buddy was right. And yet he couldn’t let it go. Couldn’t let her go without a fight.
Nuts. Absolutely nuts.
And to think he was here to work, not play.
“We better go over the numbers again,” Bruno said, interrupting his thoughts.
“Hard to get any work done in a place like this,” he grumbled. If only Roman had picked a spot near the North Pole, perhaps he’d manage to focus on his job. Out here? In a place where everything was designed to have a good time? Impossible. And more impossible when hot damsels like this mystery lady kept steaming up the place. And his brain.
“Whatever, bud.” Bruno groaned as he sat up and slid his Ray-Bans up his face. “We need to get cracking or Roman will have our asses. You know that, right?”
“Yup,” he replied. He knew all about Roman’s moods, and he was eager to avoid finding himself on the receiving end of one.
With a sigh, he tore his eyes away from the woman, and returned them to Bruno, a much less appealing sight, and tried to bring his mind back to the business they were really there+
for.
“So. What’s the plan?”
Bruno tapped the edge of the chair. “This is us, right?”
“Right,” he answered, frowning as he tried to focus. His mind full of her, he shook himself like a dog shaking water from his fur. “Right,” he repeated.
“And this,” Bruno added, as he moved his finger to the seam of the cotton upholstering of the lounge chair, “is the police station.”
It wasn’t hard to imagine the details of the plan when Bruno laid them out in his cool, methodical manner. They were here on a job, and Bruno was just about the best guy to get it done. Now if only he could get his head together, and shake this infernal obsession, they’d be just fine.
But then his eyes automatically swiveled back to her, and he knew he was in for a world of hurt. She was perfect, absolutely perfect. If he could just have her, he could put her out of his mind, and finally focus on his obligations.
She stubbornly ignored him, and he realized he was in full-on stalker mode again. Perhaps Bruno was right. There were plenty of other women here, all more gorgeous than the last, and all waiting to have a meaningless holiday fling. Why he would have to be so focused on her was hard to understand, and yet he was. Perhaps because she was mysterious, beautiful, and not the least bit interested in any of the men hanging around this place.
She kept to herself, he’d noticed, unlike her friend, who socialized and mixed it up and went to parties and genuinely had fun. She? Not so much.
She was, in other words, different, and perhaps that was what he liked about her.
Her eyes turned to him again, caught, and held. Before this job was over, she would be his, he decided, Roman be damned. “You can count on it, honey,” he muttered under his breath. As if she understood what he was saying, she slowly shook her head, then looked away again.
CHAPTER 3
Susan looked up when a man approached. He was carrying flowers and looked hot in his white cotton slacks and maroon T-shirt stretched taut over a bulging torso. She did a double take when she recognized him as the guy who’d been eyeing Jackie all week, and suppressed a snicker.
So he was back, and this time he’d come bearing gifts.
Contrary to her friend, she wasn’t averse to male eye candy, and was glad the hunk had finally decided to step up his game and go for the bold approach.
“What is this, a peace offering after your i
nsulting behavior this afternoon?”
“You did take our chairs,” he growled before shoving the flowers into her hands.
“Well, ladies first, right?” she said, charmed by the bouquet. She had to hand it to him, what he lacked in manners, he made up for in sheer persistence in the face of adversity.
“Where’s your friend?”
“Ladies’ room. She’ll be back in a tick.” She patted the chair next to her. ”Take a load off. Tell me all about yourself.”
He stared at the chair as if it were booby-trapped, then eased his bulk into it.
“You’ve been eying my friend for so long I feel like I know you already,” she said. “But now that I think of it, I don’t even know your name.”
“Erik,” he curtly stated, his eyes swiveling to the lavatory, as if expecting Jackie to show up at any moment. “Erik Petrov.”
“I’m Susan,” she said, holding out her hand. “But the one you want is Jackie.” She smiled. She liked a guy to pursue a woman, and though Jackie had told her she wasn’t interested, it didn’t hurt to check him out. “And where’s your friend?”
“Out,” he grunted, clearly a man of few words.
She took a sip from her bright pink umbrella drink. “You’re not big on talking, are you?”
He shrugged, lifting those massive shoulders in an easy gesture.
“A word of advice, Erik? If you’re going to woo a woman you need to have something more to say than ‘This is my chair’, know what I’m saying?”
She thought he blushed, but it was hard to tell beneath his tan. He shrugged again. “It was my chair,” he stated curtly.
