by Cait London
She slid into his arms as if she were coming home, and moved over him, watching him as they slowly became one, the smooth friction between their bodies already flowing and heating.
Moving smoothly over him, holding him intimately, tightly, Ellie’s eyes locked with his as if she wanted to remember him like this forever….
He knew her body too well, and it was telling him a secret her lips kept from him.
Mikhail turned her quickly, rising above her. He held her hands beside her head, watched the heat pulse beneath that smooth skin, watched her eyes half close as she went inside herself and the constrictions held him tightly.
“I’m not the woman for you,” she whispered unevenly, and he knew that was what she’d kept from him—her fear.
“Are you not?” he challenged, deliberately holding her on that delicate peak, his passion mixed with frustration.
“This isn’t fair,” she whispered, crying out as Mikhail began to move again, filling her.
“I’m a fair man, but not in this. Tell me again that we are not meant for each other…tell me now,” he demanded, even as he held his body in check, needing more from her than the physical mating to make him complete.
She fought him silently, her eyes lashing at him. “Okay, I love you,” she said finally when he lifted his mouth from her breasts, licking them into peaks.
Even now, she was fighting him. He admired her pride, but he could have nothing less than the truth between them. “And?”
She squirmed restlessly beneath him, and his blood pulsed hot and wild with the need to take her. But he wouldn’t, not just yet.
“And you’re not nice, Mikhail. You wear a suit and you can look like ice, but I know you for what you are. You take what you want and you’re not sweet.”
He moved against her and watched her go into herself just that heartbeat, her legs tightening to hold him. He needed that, to be held and tormented by her, just as he was demanding the truth from her. “And are you not taking what you want?”
“You know that I am.”
He nuzzled her cheek and moved deeper into the lock of her body, rocking gently. “I am only a man who has missed you.”
“You’re deliberately tormenting me,” Ellie whispered between her teeth as she caught his hair in her fist and brought his lips down to hers. The savagery of the gesture was what he wanted—truth. “Now finish the job.”
The emotions that had been simmering in him erupted. “I always finish what I start. Next time, don’t spend the night cowering in a hotel. You come back to me. We are one, together. Just as I share your body and you share mine, we share our lives, our fears and pain. Do not ever hold yourself from me. I never want to feel so helpless again.”
“Helpless? You?”
“Never stay away from me again,” he repeated unevenly.
“I didn’t want you to see me in pieces.”
“I have seen you in pieces before—lovely, soft, melting, pieces. That I was happy to accomplish with your assistance. I believe we could handle your problems in much the same manner—give and take. You are my woman, Ellie. It may be old-fashioned, but that’s what you are. You belong to me. I belong to you.”
She stared up at him. “Arrogant, primitive, macho—”
“You can get a little primitive yourself. I could use that for reassurance,” he said fiercely.
“Just let me at you,” she returned as fiercely, her fingers laced with his own. “You’re setting terms for our relationship at the wrong time, bud…ah—”
Her body arched as Mikhail moved to prove his point.
She pushed at him, thrashing her head upon the pillow, and Mikhail couldn’t help laughing as he drew her back.
“You’re playing with me—you great big—”
“But I love to play with you. You can play with me,” he invited quite reasonably and waited for her next move.
Ellie began to laugh, that rich full laugh that said he had her complete attention, that the tension and sadness that had wrapped around her earlier were completely gone. Then they began to move together, watching each other, completing each other….
The wild storm surged upon them, her nails digging into his back, breaking his control, her lips hungry and open and demanding, her taste filling his mouth as they flew over the edge of the world and out into the stars….
He took her once more before dawn, gently this time, listening to those sweet, sleepy sounds as she gave herself to him. When she curled against him, her arm around him, her head on his shoulder, Mikhail lay quietly, listening to her breathe.
He gathered her closer and knew that he would do anything to keep her….
Would she hate him for what he had done?
Nine
Ellie hurried down the hallway to Mikhail’s office. At ten o’clock, she’d slept deeply, awakening to an empty bed and her body well-loved and completely drained and relaxed. She hummed through a hurried shower and shampoo, a stop at her suite to change into a navy blue sweater and slacks, and hoped she could just put her body in one place with her mind.
Her body wanted to cuddle to Mikhail, and enjoy the after play of good, satisfying lovemaking with just that touch of tenderness, that pause and nuzzle and sigh that told her of his pleasure.
Her mind wanted to make him pay for setting terms so fiercely last night, when she had no basic defense, only her hunger for the man she loved—for the man who loved her.
On the other hand, she wasn’t on edge anymore, she was completely rested and ready to present the résumé of the female golf pro to Mikhail. Drue Gannon had had enough of competition and traveling on the professional circuit, and she wouldn’t fold when the pressure got rough; she also knew that in working for a resort, there was more to her job than teaching. Quiet, determined, Drue knew how to focus on the realities and compromises that went with dealing with the public.
Ellie nodded to Edna as she flew by, anxious to get Mikhail to agree to putting Drue on Amoteh’s payroll.
“Ellie, wait—Mikhail said you were taking the day off.” Edna’s voice was a little higher than usual, but Ellie rushed on, happy and eager to see Mikhail.
“Catch you later, Edna.” She smiled, anticipating seeing Mikhail, and rapped briefly before entering his office.
The spacious masculine office vibrated with tension, an ominous silence shrouding the room.
Her father sat in the chair opposite Mikhail’s desk, and Paul’s dark red face said he was angry. Mikhail’s expression was impassive, and unlike last night, he was perfectly groomed—only a lover would notice the dark love-bite on his throat, just above his pristine white collar.
Ellie instantly recognized Mikhail’s anger. Only a lover could see beyond his cool expression to that narrowed gleam between his lashes and the taut ridge of muscle crossing his cheek and jaw.
The men’s tension ricocheted silently around the room, pricking at her. She knew that one man could be as tough as the other, and yet, dressed for business, the men were alike on the surface, and so different in their values.
On Mikhail’s desk stood a sewing serger, a machine used to finish seams and hems in fine material and to embroider. An assortment of threads used by it lay tangled and discarded. Tall spools of thread gleamed nearby. In the center of his desk was an open file of large glossy black and white photographs. Shadows seemed to ripple across them like clouds brewing a storm.
“Good morning, Ellie,” Mikhail said smoothly as an array of Tanya’s crayon drawings danced on the wall behind him. Only the slight tensing of his jaw gave any indication that he was angry. “Paul and I were just discussing the man you’ve been seeing. Apparently Lars took pictures of you and this man and sent them to Paul.”
Mikhail snapped the file closed. “Sit down, Ellie. Since you’re here, I want you to see these. What you tell Paul is your decision.”
Paul was on his feet, rocking on his heels, his hands behind him as he stared out of the window at the small town of Amoteh. “She’s been playing
you for a fool, Mikhail. She’s set you up to defend her and Tanya, and then she’s playing around with another man.”
Paul’s opinion of his daughter didn’t matter; she’d known since childhood that he’d never gotten over his wayward mother and held that against all women, even his daughters. Ellie’s hand shook as she eased into a chair and slowly opened the file Mikhail had handed her. “Lars took these?”
“Apparently, when Hillary’s kidnapping idea failed, Lars had a better idea—spying for Paul—before he decided to take a trip away from Amoteh.”
“For the record, I didn’t approve of Hillary being so roughshod with my granddaughter,” Paul stated harshly.
Kaleidoscope images of Tanya as a baby left untended and later as a girl terrified at the day care center when Hillary decided to take her by force, ran through Ellie’s mind. “You’re a little late with that, Paul.”
Paul swore darkly. “You’re not keeping me from her. Hillary says you’re lying about how she treated Tanya.”
“Maybe you should have taken the time to see for yourself, Paul. But then you have two daughters you ignored as children, don’t you?”
“Get over it,” Paul said fiercely. “You got what you needed.”
“Did I? Let’s just say that I know what Tanya needs.” The photographs were of Ellie looking up at a big man, dressed in a worn sweatshirt and jeans, his face unseen, as he braced his hands beside her head on the weathered boards of the pier, as he lay over her on the beach, as he carried her over his shoulder. She laughed up at him, the wind blowing her hair as she smoothed his; another picture was that of her hands framing his face, her eyes closed as she kissed him. The sensual, intimate views of her face always obscured the man’s.
That man was Mikhail. Lars was playing games with blackmail. No doubt he intended to also approach Mikhail with a second set of pictures that revealed his identity if Mikhail didn’t comply with his conditions.
Mikhail had given her the choice to tell Paul of their relationship, their love, or to deny it.
“I think,” she said slowly, as she attempted to align her hurried morning with the clash between her father and her lover, two strong men, “that perhaps a cup of tea would be in order. I’ll be right back.”
Paul snickered. “I raised Ellie and Hillary. They’re like their mothers…unfaithful.”
“Perhaps they needed a faithful man, one who recognized his marriage vows,” Mikhail said quietly.
Paul turned immediately, leaning forward in a fighting posture, his fists at his side. “You don’t know anything.”
Mikhail leveled a cool look at Ellie. “Now would be a good time to get the water for the samovar.”
“I’m not leaving. You are not dismissing me.” Mikhail had wanted his conversation with her father to be very private; he’d deliberately exhausted her so that she would oversleep and miss Paul.
“You are excused,” Mikhail said firmly, spacing his words.
He’d been so thorough in making love to her, and now he treated her like the employee she was.
“Did you know that Paul would be here in this morning?” she asked more lightly than she felt as her happiness shattered into shards at her feet.
Mikhail’s grim expression didn’t falter. “Yes. We had an appointment for Monday morning at eleven. He was a bit early.”
“I see. And I was a bit late.”
“No doubt you were tired from your trip,” he said too coolly. “It’s understandable. You may leave now.”
She wasn’t just his employee—she was his lover. And she loved him. He would not wage her wars but banish her from the battle scene. “No.”
Mikhail’s jaw tightened. “What Paul and I have to say is private.”
Ellie stood and gripped the file she had been holding, then she slapped it onto the desk. Her eyes locked with Mikhail’s as she said, “Let’s get this all out in the open, since dear old Lars has been spying on me—no doubt for a good price. The man in those pictures is Mikhail.”
She frowned slightly as a new idea hit her. Danya and Alexi’s visit had also been planned. “Did Lars just accidentally decide to take a trip when your cousins dropped in for that short visit?”
“He seemed to think it was a good idea,” Mikhail said coolly.
Paul looked as if he would explode. “You want my daughter to get your hands on Mignon, a company I built. Well, it won’t work, Stepanov. I’ll cut her off.”
Mikhail took his time in answering the accusation, and his eyes never left Ellie’s. “She has been managing without your money for some time. I want Ellie because I love her. I want to marry her, Paul. I want Tanya to be my daughter. And you’ve done enough damage to Ellie. She’s tried to hold a family together that didn’t matter to you. Now, don’t you think it’s time you told her about her mother?”
“That woman? No. And don’t think you hold all the cards here, Stepanov. I’ll break you.”
Mikhail’s quiet answer was brisk, and this time he turned to look at Paul. “I think not. Whether Ellie decides to marry me or not, you will not interfere with the Amoteh, or with her as Tanya’s mother. If you do, I will make it my life’s pleasure to ruin you.”
The men were battling on without Ellie, threatening each other while she was awash with confusion.
“What about my mother?” Ellie remembered Nora’s voice pleading with her over the telephone. The infrequent calls had begun when she was thirty, but Ellie wouldn’t speak to the woman who had deserted her. With Tanya as her daughter, Ellie’s resentment toward Nora had deepened. No loving mother could have left her child….
“I’m getting out of here,” Paul said roughly as he brushed by Ellie.
“Take this. Your granddaughter drew it. She’s a wonderful, loving child. Ellie has done a good job as a parent, and you’re not harming her as you did your daughters.” Mikhail stood and removed one of Tanya’s drawings taped to his wall. He handed it to Paul, who crushed it in his fist as he shoved out the office door, slamming it behind him.
“What about Nora?” Ellie turned to Mikhail, who had that guarded expression.
“I wanted Paul to tell you, but he can’t admit his own wrongdoing. I contacted your mother. As hard as you have fought for Tanya, I couldn’t see her leaving you with Paul. If you want to know the whole story, not the one Paul fed you as you grew up, call her.” Mikhail handed Ellie a paper with a telephone number written in his bold handwriting.
“You had no business interfering in that. Not that.” A nightmare of memories swirled around her, the child deserted by an unloving mother and ignored by a harsh, cold, demanding father. The ten-year-old who promised that her baby sister would have all her love.
“Did I not?” he asked too quietly, reminding her of last night, when he’d held her, demanding her admission of love and that they were of one body and one heart.
But Ellie was too shaken by the encounter with Paul and by Mikhail contacting a woman she never wanted to see. “You deliberately exhausted me last night to waylay me from meeting Paul.”
“I was under the impression that it was to our mutual agreement and satisfaction. Take the rest of the day off. I don’t want the Amoteh destroyed by your mood, and the way you look now, you’re going to war. And by the way, I do love you and want to marry you.”
With that, Mikhail sat down to place spools of thread on the serger, studying the directions and clearly dismissing her. In his big hands, the gleaming threads looked as fragile as Ellie felt.
“You’ll never figure that out,” she stated, and in a fury hurried to quickly maneuver all the threads into the machine.
Mikhail scowled at the machine and then at her. She had the distinct impression that she had taken away his toy as he spoke. “If you decide to keep it, I thought the new sewing machine might be well placed in your suite. This one is not for plain sewing, rather for finish work. It makes scalloped edges and—”
“I know what it does. I’ve wanted one my whole life. I’m getting that go
lf pro, Stepanov. Here’s Drue’s résumé…and don’t ever arrange my life again. And the next time you decide to have a lovemaking marathon to get me out of the action, I’ll be prepared.”
He lifted that mocking eyebrow. “Oh, really?”
While she struggled for words, Mikhail nodded. “Listen to your mother, Ellie. Nora is a good woman. She didn’t desert you. It wasn’t that simple. Other lives were involved. She did what she had to do, and the choices weren’t easy. Now take some time to deal with this,” he added before turning to reading the day’s mail, making a show of ignoring her.
Ellie looked at that dark hair gleaming in the sunlight and did what she had to do. She picked up the golf pro’s file and slapped him over the head. Mikhail tensed, then he continued reading. “Call her. The marriage offer stands.”
She couldn’t pick through the storm of her emotions—confusion, the sense of being betrayed, her need to have him hold her tight. Her instincts, fostered by years of family infighting, said to protect herself. Yet Mikhail had just gambled everything he’d built for her; she could ruin him and many other lives. In the end, he could hate her. “And if I refuse?”
Mikhail’s eyes flickered just slightly, that muscle tensed in his jaw, but he spoke coolly. “Then we continue to work as we have before. You’re a valuable asset to the Amoteh. Your skills would be difficult to replace.”
She stared at him, unable to merge this cold man into the lover who had held her so tenderly last night. Words churned and boiled furiously in her mind. They wouldn’t come to her lips. In the end, she settled for action—tossing all the neat stacks of paper on his desk into the air. As they fluttered through the air, she batted them, then methodically circled the room. She briskly tilted all the pictures on the wall, and pushed the chairs into different positions.
On an afterthought, she rearranged his desk, placing the intercom on his left side, instead of his right, his appointment calendar centered next to him, the small gold clock in the middle of the desk.
As she walked by him, Mikhail held out the file of pictures.
“Thanks,” she said briskly and left with as much dignity as she could manage before she started crying.
