To Love A Hero (International Romance Series) Read online

  “Dobroye noyte,” Yelena said shyly, “Niet Engleshkee.”

  “Nice to meet you, Yelena. Don’t worry about speaking English. Tania or your husband will translate for us,” Cecile said, wondering if the general had changed his mind about coming to dinner.

  A figure moved out the shadows. Cecile caught herself staring, hardly recognizing the smashing, businesslike gentleman, exuding an air of sensual authority and power. A navy suit jacket draped his splendid shoulders. The white shirt and burgundy tie lent the perfect background for his tanned face. What a sight. In uniform or civilian clothes, the man was sinfully attractive.

  “Good evening, Dr. Lornier, John.” The general shook hands with John.

  “General.” She held out her hand. He did not shake it as she expected but instead raised it to his lips. Cecile’s mouth went dry and heat surged up her neck. Would she ever get used to his gallant welcome?

  The general cupped her elbow and escorted her inside. “You look beautiful, Cecile,” he whispered close to her ear.

  “Thank you, General.” With a sigh, she lowered her eyelashes. A business meeting? Hmm, she wasn’t so sure anymore.

  The hostess ushered them to a table in a dimly lit corner. Cecile sat between Sergei and John. The others settled across from them. Nicolai turned around, scanned the room with a rapid glance. “I checked the reservation list. There is no one of consequence here and no journalists.”

  Tania translated the items on the menu.

  “I’ve had more than enough vodka for one day,” John mumbled then ordered the local beer.

  Cecile surveyed the elegant place. A mirrored sphere shimmered with silver glints over the small dance floor at the end of the room. On a raised podium, a gorgeous singer with long golden hair sang while swaying to soft piano music played by a tuxedo-clad man.

  The drinks came. They clanked their glasses, mingling the cheers and Na zdorovies.

  Cecile struggled to concentrate on the conversation. Not an easy task with the general sitting so close beside her.

  “It’s a pleasure to have you with us. I hope you’ll enjoy your stay in Minsk.” The general’s gaze skimmed her cheeks with a soft caress.

  “I’m sure we will.” In spite of the warmth invading her chest, she managed to keep her tone poised and amiable. “You welcomed us with incredible hospitality. We appreciate your kindness.”

  Yelena asked through her husband if Cecile’s fall on the escalator had left any lasting bruises.

  No lasting bruise but it was a fall Cecile wouldn’t forget as long as she lived. She smiled at Nicolai’s wife. “Thank you for your concern. The general caught me just in time. I felt better right away.”

  Oh my God. What had she said? She hoped no one thought she’d enjoyed being in his arms. Cecile glanced around furtively. While the others drank and talked, the general’s lips curled to one side. Another wave of heat spread over her throat.

  Dang, there was definitely a lasting bruise on her senses. Avoiding his penetrating gaze, she took off her jacket and smoothed her skirt and waited for dinner to be served. She ate little, chose the potato pancakes, and avoided the greasy meat. With the strong presence beside her, a different hunger built in the pit of her stomach. Suddenly thirsty, she gulped her beer and forced herself to participate in the general conversation.

  Nicolai stood and tugged at his wife’s hand. “Please, excuse us. I want to dance with Yelena. We don’t often enjoy the luxury of such expensive places.”

  John followed suit and pulled Tania to her feet. “Come on. Let me shake my old legs.”

  Cecile remained at her place. She took a piece of bread and balled it between her fingers. No one had mentioned dancing as part of this evening. She felt the general’s gaze on her. No please. Don’t ask. She was here to work. Only to work.

  The general stood and extended an open palm. “May I have the honor?”

  Her breath lumped in her throat but she placed her hand in his and steadied her wobbly knees. He swept her away from their table toward the dance floor. His arm wrapped around her waist and branded her with his touch. Blazing heat penetrated through the silk of her blouse. They mingled with the crowd, gliding around. Cecile floated on a cloud. She was back in his arms. And not by accident, this time.

  At first, they moved slowly to the music, then he brought her closer and her body recognized with pleasure the rock-hard chest. He tightened his hold. She almost groaned. Her senses focused on the taut biceps pressing on her side. “Crassiva,” he whispered in her ear.

  “Pardon?”

  “You’re so lovely, Cecile. Crassiva means pretty.”

  “General, please. I’m here on business.”

  “I’m not about to forget it. But can’t you relax and enjoy the evening, the soft music?”

  “I am enjoying myself. Really, your hospitality is amazing.”

  “Our hospitality?” He shook his head. “Cecile can’t you stop being the Program Manager for a few hours? I’m trying to talk to you, to the beautiful woman I’m dancing with. Is it an unforgivable mistake?”

  His breath fanned her earlobe. She had trouble making sense of his words. Was it the result of the morning’s vodka, the beer she drank a moment ago, or the strong arms holding her pressed against his muscled chest?

  “Tonight we should have fun. Tomorrow we will work.” He smiled, such a beguiling smile that she sighed. Her legs turned into jelly and her insides melted into delicious, hot syrup.

  “Tomorrow?” she repeated in a whisper. But tonight...

  Tonight she, too, wanted to have fun, to forget Rob, her project and the many obstacles waiting for her. Her hand slipped from his shoulder and curled around his neck.

  “Yes,” he said. “Tonight we celebrate, we drink and we dance.” The charm and sultry sexiness in his voice held her motionless. His finger traced a line along her forehead, circled her cheek and swept over her lips in a gentle caress. She guessed he expected her to raise her business flag, to hide behind the contract and their professional relationship.

  For the life of her, Cecile couldn’t pull back. She wanted to feel—just one more time—the strength of powerful arms holding her against the shelter of his solid chest. Linking her fingers around his neck, she leaned against the muscled torso and relaxed, secure in his embrace.

  He whirled around and danced them to the darkest corner of the dance floor. His lips slid from her temple to her closed eyelids, brushed her cheek, and rested for a fleeting second achingly close to her mouth. Her breath caught in her throat as she waited and yearned for his kiss. But he pressed his cheek on top of her head and held her tightly. She swallowed a frustrated groan as she listened to the comforting thump of his heart and hung on his neck, almost forgetting to dance.

  After a couple of dances, she thought she recognized an old piece of music. “Is it by any chance ‘Strangers in the Night’?”

  “I don’t know the name in English but it’s your Frank Sinatra’s famous song. Do you like it?”

  “Well it’s kind of old.”

  “Maybe old but special for us now. We are still strangers tonight. I’ll sing it for you in Russian.” Cecile forgot the goal of her trip and the illustrious identity of her companion as he hummed the classic melody with words she didn’t understand but felt deep in her heart.

  The music stopped for an intermission returning her to reality. She disentangled herself, and heaved a deep breath, fighting to tame her racing heartbeat. Sergei led her back to the table.

  While she sipped her beer her mind vaguely registered the boring conversation. The high pitched sound of Tania’s laughter pierced the din. In fact, Cecile was becoming quite annoyed with the pretty chauffeur and her manners. Tania giggled and flirted, smiling at John. Stimulated by too much alcohol and Tania’s lovely face, John alternated seductive efforts and off-color jokes.

  Cecile frowned. In her book, Gordon, a married man, should not indulge in flirting. To put things back into perspective and remind him of hi
s better half, she narrowed her eyes. “Have you been able to e-mail your wife?”

  “I need to buy an adapter to access the internet,” he grumbled. “Tomorrow morning, Tania and I will go shopping. We’ll buy the adapters and electric heaters for our rooms. Do you need one?”

  “Definitely. I’d appreciate both a heater and an adapter.” Cecile tamped down on her personal opinion. She shouldn’t interfere in his social life. John had the right to go shopping with his driver.

  The music started again. Except for the general, her companions left the table to dance. Cecile turned toward the general determined to start a sensible conversation before he could ask her to dance again, before he made her lose her head on his shoulder. “Why are you so worried about being seen in a restaurant?”

  “A few months ago, I was promoted to Major Generalle. I’m a public figure in Belarus,” he said matter-of-factly while staring straight ahead. “Being too friendly with the American delegation can be misinterpreted. There are those who are jealous because of this promotion and others who lay all their hopes on my shoulders.” He paused and faced her, his eyes gleaming with dark-blue sparkles. “I dream of a modern Belarus, with enough work and food for everyone and a safe environment. Now, I need to translate my vision into action. Can you understand that, Cecile?” The words rang with patriotism and daunting responsibilities.

  “Yes. I feel the same protectiveness—of course on a smaller scale—toward my lab. General, I will do my best to help you provide a safe environment. I’ll set up the lab as fast as I can.”

  “The lab is not enough, Cecile.” He sucked in a deep breath and exhaled, “but let’s not talk about work now. Can you call me Sergei, please?”

  “Oh.” She stiffened, convinced that the use of his name would make her more accessible, vulnerable. She couldn’t allow it. “I thought everyone used your title.”

  “In public. Not in private.”

  The music stopped for another intermission. The restaurant had become crowded with new patrons. John and Tania, Nicolai and his wife resumed their seats at the table. The general stood and moved his chair closer to Cecile’s to let John squeeze back into his seat.

  “I’m sorry,” the general said as his thigh rubbed against hers. Cecile choked on her beer. Her hand flew to her burning cheek and slid to her throat, her swallowing audible. Tolerating the general’s close proximity without betraying her attraction proved quite a challenge. She had to break the sensual spell that threatened to engulf her.

  She turned toward Sergei. “If you’ll excuse me, tomorrow will be a busy day. I need all the sleep I can get.”

  “I’m leaving too, Cecile. It’s already past eleven and I think I drank a bit too much,” John said with a groan. “Tomorrow will be a full day with another visit to the Belchem Lab and the meeting in Dr. Kadelov’s office. Are you ready Tania?”

  Tania pushed her chair out to leave. “It’s chilly now. Do you want me to get the car from the hotel to drive you back?”

  “Of course not. It’s just a few blocks,” Cecile said as she stood to leave. “General, Nicolai, Yelena, it was a lovely evening.”

  “I will walk with you to the hotel then take the bus.” The general gestured for her to precede him then helped her with her raincoat. “Nicolai, I will see you tomorrow. Dobroye noyte, Yelena.”

  They stepped out in the night. Her heart drumming inside her chest, she realized the general had cut his fun short to be with them.

  Sergei held her arm and led her across the street and down the stone stairs that led to the riverbank. John leaned on Tania’s arm as they followed behind them.

  “Are you sure you can make it, John?”

  “What a question, Cecile.” He straightened and accelerated his pace. “I’m very sober. Just a bit tired. The jetlag of course.” He passed Cecile and the general. “By the time…I reach the hotel,” he stuttered as he looked back over his shoulder, “I’ll be ready…for another round…if the general wants to join me.”

  Sergei chuckled. “Not tonight, moy drouk.”

  “Mr. Gordon, wait here. I will get the car for you.” Tania took off dashing toward the hotel.

  Cecile helped John sit on a bench and then left with the general. Soon the lights of the restaurant and the street disappeared and the night swallowed them. Far above, a crescent moon sporadically appeared between the clouds.

  Cecile shivered and gathered her collar around her neck then buried her gloved hands inside her pockets.

  “You’re trembling.” Sergei removed his short leather coat and draped it around her shoulders. “This should help.”

  “What about you? You’ll get cold.”

  “Don’t worry about me. I’m used to worse weather than this. Wait till our winter starts. You’ll discover the true meaning of cold.”

  She snuggled into his jacket and sighed as the delicious warmth of his body heat and the scent of his Old Spice wafted around her. Sergei grinned and wrapped his arm around her back. She felt sheltered and warm.

  “Tell me, Cecile, how is it that your name sounds French?”

  “Because it is.” She’d never talked about her personal life. Seeing his curious look, somehow, she didn’t mind telling him. “I was born in Paris of French parents. My father died during a military exercise, when the plane he was piloting crashed. I was three. Later on, my mother married an American and moved to Boston. They traveled quite a bit and left me behind in boarding schools.”

  “So your father was in the Air Force?”

  “And an ace pilot who tested experimental planes.” She paused for a second and stared straight ahead at the pitch-black night, recalling the loneliness she’d tried to bury, first under long hours of study and later in continuous work. She tilted her head, following her memories. “I learned to be independent and fend for myself. My mother brought me back to France every few years to visit with my grandparents.”

  “Where did you go to school? In France or the U.S.?”

  “I did my undergraduate studies at Northeastern University in Boston but I spent my junior year in Paris. Later, I prepared my doctorate in Chemistry at Harvard.”

  Sergei whistled softly. “A brilliant brain in a pretty package. No wonder you ended up as the Program Manager of our project.”

  She chuckled, then sighed. The general excelled at offering compliments but she would still have to convince him she deserved the contract and her title.

  Far above in the street, the screeching of tires alerted them to reality. She removed his coat and handed it to him. “I can see the lights of the hotel.”

  He caught her hand as they climbed the stairs leading to the street and walked her to the revolving door of the hotel. Before she entered, he clasped her shoulders. “Be careful. Not everyone accepts foreigners here. Beware of General Roussov. He hates me. He could harm you if he links you to me. One can never be too cautious with my former father-in-law.”

  “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

  “Thank you for a unique evening.”

  “Goodnight, General.”

  He brought her hand to his lips, lingered on her fingers, and trailed kisses to her wrist. “General, please.”

  He cupped her face between his hands and deposited a light kiss on her parted mouth. “Sleep well, sweet Cecile.”

  Chapter Six

  His heart overwhelmed with frustration, Sergei Fedorin watched the young woman rush away from him. He protected millions of citizens but could not afford the simple gesture of courtesy to walk this American inside her hotel. In his country, they would consider it high treason for their Major General to date a foreigner.

  He sat on a bench beside the river and waited for the brisk cold to quiet his throbbing headache and cool his boiling blood. He wanted her so badly. Not only in a physical way—although he admitted to himself, she tied him into a knot with a simple touch. He wanted her presence but also admired her poise, her assertiveness and her self-confidence. She wasn’t afraid to tackle a man’s job
.

  Sofya had needed him. Cecile didn’t.

  For the first time in his life, he enjoyed carrying on an intelligent conversation with a woman. If only he could date her openly, invite her out and take the time to know her and court her.

  For one crazy moment, he wondered what it would be like to be free, to run away—far away, to Europe or America—with the woman he wanted. Impossible dreams.

  Exasperated, he slapped his thigh. He had become a controlled public figure, watched and scrutinized by everyone. A statue on a pedestal, admired and revered but not allowed to breathe, or love, or live a personal life. The Major General of Belarus had forever buried the Citizen Sergei Fedorin.

  Sergei tolerated it because of his love for Belarus. He had given his country his best years and would continue to serve it until his last breath. A bitter smile stretched his lips. How could he ever forget his patriotism, the nine million citizens who counted on him?

  * * * * *

  In her bed, Cecile rubbed a finger over her lips and smiled as she remembered the strength of his arms around her back, the warmth of his breath, and the softness of his lips on her cheeks. She closed her eyes, yearning to discover the rest of his powerful body.

  Tonight, Sergei had trusted her and confided his patriotic dream. His life belonged to his country even more than hers belonged to her lab.

  What future could they share?

  The loneliness of her Bostonian life submerged her. Could she allow herself to taste happiness in his arms?

  She hugged her pillow trying to think rationally. Today she had been warned twice.

  Colonel Roussov had cautioned her against Sergei. The father, still mourning, seemed to have reason to hate the Major General he held responsible for neglecting his daughter, even on her deathbed.

  But Sergei had also warned her against Roussov. Could the man who held her with so much passion be callous enough to let his wife die alone?

  The question swirled in her mind, almost hurt her with its abrasiveness and grated on her nerves. She had to find out how his wife died.

  * * * * *