Читать книгу To Love and Protect - Сьюзен Мэллери - Страница 10

Nearly five years later

D avid Logan generally avoided recreational social events at the embassy. His work required more than enough cocktail parties at which he either had to keep his eye on someone dangerous or extract information without the person in question knowing. He no longer found the endless chatter relaxing or fun. Give him a good covert kidnapping or prisoner extraction any day.

But tonight was different. Even though it was his day off, he found himself nodding politely to people he’d seen at events like this a dozen times before and making inane conversation with spouses of staff members. Even as he explained a point of baseball to a security operative from the British embassy, he kept his eye on the circulating crowd. Nearly thirty American tourists had been invited to the evening’s festivities, including one Elizabeth Duncan from Portland, Oregon.

Liz had finally made it to Russia.

He knew her visit had nothing to do with him—they hadn’t been in contact since they’d parted company the evening he’d flown to Moscow. Still, he’d come to the party with the hope of catching a glimpse of her. Maybe more than a glimpse. He wanted to look at her, talk to her, find out what was different and what was the same.

Funny how after all this time he could remember everything about their time together. While he wasn’t willing to admit she was the one who got away, he would claim a certain interest. He’d never forgotten her. Would she be able to say the same about him?

He concluded his conversation with the British security operative and made his way to the bar. As he crossed the large, crowded room, he glanced toward the entrance and saw a group of Americans standing there.

They wore their nationality as easily as their formal clothing, something that would surprise most of them. His time in Russia had taught David to size up a person in a matter of seconds, and he recognized the well-dressed, well-fed posture of relatively successful Westerners. A few were in Moscow as tourists, some had come to adopt children, and a couple were here for work.

The crowd parted, allowing him a view of a beautiful redhead in a black gown. He wasn’t close enough to see the color of her eyes, but he remembered. A vivid green. He also recalled her curiosity, her humor and her drive.

“Champagne,” he said to the bartender. “Two.”

After collecting the glasses, he made his way through the crowd.

Liz stood talking to a couple in their late thirties. She’d piled her hair on top of her head, which left her neck bare to view. David wanted to move close enough to brush that pale skin with a kiss. Okay, maybe he wanted to do a lot more than that. The slender straps holding up the dress offered possibilities.

“Down, boy,” he murmured to himself as he made his way closer. He was acting as if he hadn’t been with a woman since he and Liz had parted, but that wasn’t true. There had been plenty. Still, none of them had been her.

“Liz?”

He spoke her name quietly. She had her back to him and when she heard the single word she stilled, then slowly turned.

The action gave him a view of her profile first, then her whole face. Humor and surprise and excitement danced in her large green eyes. Her full lips curved up in a smile that both welcomed and beckoned. Heat sizzled, then arced between them.

“David Logan,” she said, her voice exactly as he remembered. “I’d wondered if you were still haunting the halls of the Moscow state department.”

She’d thought of him. The news pleased him more than it should have.

He handed her a glass of champagne. “Here I am,” he told her. “Welcome to Moscow.”

She touched her glass to his and sipped. “Thank you,” she said. “Oh, let me introduce you to—”

She glanced over her shoulder and saw the couple she’d been talking to had discreetly faded into the party. Liz turned back to him.

“I guess I’ll do the introduction thing later.”

“If you’d like.”

He didn’t care if he never talked to anyone else. Liz was the one who interested him.

“It’s been a long time,” he said.

“Nearly five years.” She smiled. “Hmm, maybe I shouldn’t have admitted to knowing the amount of time. Does that sound like I was pining?”

“No. Were you?”

Her smile widened. “Not all the time. And you?”

“When I saw your name on the guest list, I knew I had to come by and see you again.”

“Here I am.”

He glanced at the elegant dress that skimmed her gorgeous curves before settling just above her ankles. Her large, dangling silver earrings had been replaced with gold-and-diamond studs. He recognized the brand of her watch and the air of confidence around her.

“You’ve become successful,” he said.

“Within my little world, yes. Do the paparazzi follow me around? Not exactly.”

“Do you want them to?”

She laughed. “Of course not. I’m simply pointing out that success is relative. I’ve won a few awards, pleased some well-placed clients, moved up the food chain.”

“Good. Still living with the football players?”

“No. It’s just me now, which is really better. When those two fought, they were impossible.”

She wasn’t married. David told himself the information shouldn’t have mattered, but he liked knowing it.

“What about you?” she asked. “How’s the spy business?”

“I’ve been working on improving invisible ink.”

“How’s that going?”

“Great. Only my work keeps disappearing.”

“That could be a problem.”

David sounded the same, Liz thought happily. Still charming, still easy to be with, but he looked different. Harder, leaner, more dangerous. His dark eyes contained secrets. He might joke about invisible ink but she suspected the truth about his job would make her shiver with fear.

He touched her arm and she felt the warm contact all the way to her toes.

“What are you thinking?” he asked. “You just got serious.”

She clutched her champagne glass and forced herself to relax. “You. When I was planning my trip, I wondered if you would be here. I thought about looking you up but…” She shrugged. “It was only one afternoon.”

He stared deeply into her eyes. “It was a hell of a lot more than that.”

Her stomach clenched slightly. It had been more for her, too.

“Sometimes I thought I’d imagined it all,” she admitted. “That we hadn’t really connected that way so quickly.”

“It was all real.”

He moved a little closer. Close enough that breathing didn’t seem all that necessary. Close enough to make her grateful that her dress slipped on and off so easily. Close enough that she thought about kissing him and touching him and having him touch her back. She thought about the large embassy and the empty rooms and how they could—

Liz consciously cleared her head and sucked in a breath. Time to regroup.

“So,” she said, striving for a cheerful tone, “how’s Mrs. Logan?”

He chuckled. “My mother is fine. Busy with her charity work. I’ll be sure to tell her you were asking. She was just here a few weeks ago. My parents visit a couple of times of year. It was cold and rainy for their visit, but you’ve come at a good time.”

Moscow weather seemed like a safe topic. “I’m glad. I’m hoping to have time to see a few things while I’m here.”

“Looking for a tour guide?”

“Maybe. Do you know someone?”

“A great guy.”

David was only a few inches taller than she, yet he seemed so much larger. And safe. She liked the combination of erotic arousal and comfort she felt standing next to him.

“Does he speak both English and Russian?” she asked.

“Oh, yeah. He’s also passable in German but he could dazzle you in French.”

“I’m not easily dazzled.”

“He’s up to the task.”

“Is he?”

“I promise.”

They were talking about more than just a tour of the city, she thought with a combination of excitement and trepidation. “Maybe you could give me his number.”

“I thought I’d introduce you myself. That would make it more personal. How much time will you have to see the sights?”

Liz took another sip of her champagne and realized David had no idea why she was in Moscow. Would the information change things? Silly question. Of course it would.

“I have a couple of days until things get complicated,” she said. “I’m not here on vacation. I’m with the Children’s Connection group. I’m adopting a baby girl.”

David’s expression didn’t change, nor did his body language, which told her she would never want to play poker against the man.

“Weren’t you working with them when we first met?” he asked.

“Yes. I did the artwork for their brochure.”

“And now you’re adopting a baby through them. My family is a big supporter of what they do. That’s why my parents were here. Well, to visit me, too.”

“How ironic we met last time because of Children’s Connection and here we are again, because of them,” she said.

“Remind me to send a thank-you note.”

She still couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He was so cool, she thought. Didn’t he have questions for her?

“Do you want to comment on my decision to adopt?” she asked.

He continued to study her face. “It’s an interesting choice for a single woman,” he said.

“Agreed.” She shrugged. “There are a lot of reasons. I’m successful and I can afford to take care of a baby. My work schedule is flexible—another plus.”

“Most women prefer to wait for home and husband.”

“True enough. I have the home, but I’m not interested in waiting for the husband.”

Getting married would mean falling in love and Liz wasn’t a fan of the process. In her world, romantic love cost too much and she wasn’t willing to pay.

“At the risk of discussing something too personal, why don’t you have a child of your own?” he asked.

“I’m sure you don’t remember, but I was raised by my grandmother.”

“Of course. Your nana.” He raised his eyebrows. “She was Russian.”

“I’m impressed you remembered.” More than impressed. Intrigued.

“It’s the spy training. I never forget a detail.”

Despite their relatively serious conversation, Liz smiled. “You’re still good-looking and charming. I can’t believe someone hasn’t snatched you up.”

“Maybe I haven’t been available.”

“Their loss.”

She meant it. She might not be interested in happily-ever-after, but that didn’t make her any less appreciative of David’s appeal.

He finished his glass of champagne. “Your grandmother was adopted,” he said.

“Right. After the Second World War. She was brought back to the States. She and I used to talk about her life before—how hard things were. Maybe the seed was planted there. When I did the brochure for Children’s Connection, I learned about their international adoptions. At the time it wasn’t practical, but eventually I realized it was something I wanted to do.”

He put his hand on the small of her back and guided her to a small sofa in an alcove by a large window. When she was seated, he sat next to her, angling his body toward hers.

“Was the process difficult?” he asked.

He was sitting close enough to interfere with her mental process. She had to consciously focus on the topic to form actual sentences.

“There’s plenty of paperwork. I had to go through a home study and get all kinds of approvals and documents. I had an initial visit to meet Natasha—that’s the baby’s name. That was about a month ago. I was only here for a couple of days. I thought about trying to find you but…”

“There was a lot going on,” he said, brushing his fingers across the back of her hand.

“Right.”

The full days hadn’t been the only reason, she admitted to herself. She’d been cautious. It had taken a ridiculous amount of time to get over David five years ago. She hadn’t wanted the distraction of trying to deal with him now.

But sitting next to him—aware of his heat, the scent of his body and the rapid beating of her own heart—she knew that she’d mostly been afraid and with good reason. The man turned her head.

“I had plenty of doubts about the adoption process and what I was doing,” she admitted. “Was I crazy to fly halfway around the world to adopt a child? But then I held Natasha in my arms and I knew she was exactly what I’d been waiting for all my life.”

“Sounds special.”

“It was. Now I’m here for the second and final visit. Depending on how the process goes, I’ll be in Moscow for anywhere from several days to several weeks. Then I’ll bring her home with me.”

“When does this all start?” he asked.

“I’ll go to the orphanage the day after tomorrow. Until then I’m free.”

He brushed his thumb across the back of her hand. “Is that an invitation?”

She wanted it to be. “Are you interested?”

His slow, sexy smile made her grateful she was sitting and didn’t have to worry about mundane things like staying upright and balancing herself.

“Absolutely.”

The next day David left his office shortly after ten in the morning. He’d gone in to handle a few pressing problems, then had taken the rest of the day off to show Liz around Moscow.

She was trouble, he acknowledged as he took the stairs to the underground garage. Beautiful, seductive and not for the likes of him. Still, wanting and not having was a unique experience—one he was willing to endure for now.

She’d shown up unexpectedly and the surprises kept on coming. Adopting a child on her own would mean a big change. Five years ago she’d been focused on her career. Apparently that was no longer the case.

They were both different, he thought as he slid into his green Fiat and started the engine. He knew the past five years had changed him in ways he would never talk about. There were still dark places in the Russian Federation and he’d been to most of them.

The drive to the hotel took less than twenty minutes. The five-story building stood on a narrow street, butting up against an apartment block and a private school. David parked, then surveyed the neighborhood. Not elegant, but safe.

The lobby had seen better days. Once beautiful Oriental carpeting had faded until the pattern was little more than a shadow. The carved molding was cracked in several places, but the crystal in the chandelier was authentic and original. The clerk behind the registration desk noted David’s arrival but said nothing to him as he took the stairs to the third floor and knocked on Liz’s door. She answered at once, pulling back the door and smiling at him.

“Right on time,” she said. “You’d warned me you might not be able to get away very easily.”

“I was motivated,” he told her as he leaned in and kissed her cheek.

She smelled of soap and flowers and female mysteries. Today she wore her hair down and slightly curled. Over her jeans she had on a yellow T-shirt that hugged her breasts in such a way that he knew he would be distracted the entire day.

As he straightened, their gazes locked. That ever-present heat flared until all he wanted to do was push her back into the room, lock the door behind them and spend the day in bed. Naked.

Instead he retreated to the relative safety of the hallway and stuck his hands into his jeans’ front pockets.

“You about ready?”

“Uh-huh.”

Her smile told him she’d been more than aware of his dilemma, but not how she would have reacted if he’d given in to temptation. He liked to think that she wouldn’t have put up much of a fight.

“So what’s on the agenda?” she asked.

“How much of the city did you see last time you were here?”

She checked her fanny pack for her key, then closed the door and followed him into the hallway.

“Practically nothing. Between the jet lag and meeting Natasha, I barely functioned. That’s why I came in a day early this time—so I could get on Moscow time and be more relaxed.”

He led the way to the stairs. “You’re adopting a child. How relaxed could you be?”

“Good point. So basically I’m a tourist who knows nothing and has seen even less.”

He took her hand in his. “Then trust me to show you Moscow. We’ll drive around to give you a general idea of things, then stop at a place I promise you’ll never forget.”

“Sounds great.”

Liz liked the way David’s hand felt holding hers. She liked being close to him. Honestly, she liked a lot of things, including the fact that he was a giant, good-looking distraction. Coming in early so she wouldn’t be so exhausted during the final adoption process had seemed like a good idea at the time, but flying over, she’d realized it also gave her too much time to think about what she was doing. Not that she regretted any part of adopting Natasha. Instead, she worried about being a good enough mother for the delightful baby.

But with David at her side, she could fill her mind with other intriguing topics and different fantasies. Such as how it was possible for one man to produce so many tingles in her body.

He escorted her to a small green car parked down the street. As they took off, she felt a thrill of excitement. She was about as far from home as she’d ever been, in the company of a handsome man, starting an adventure that would change her life. What could be better?

“Tell me about living here,” she said as they turned a corner and entered a busy main street. “Do you have much contact with Russian people?”

“I try to. When I came here I knew a lot in theory, but had no practical experience with another culture.” He shot her a grin. “Now I’m practically a native.”

“Sure you are. Say something in Russian.”

He obliged with a long sentence. She blinked at him.

“Okay, and what did you say?”

“That this was the kind of day meant to be spent with a beautiful woman. Then I said something dirty I can’t repeat.”

She laughed. “Fair enough. So tell me about the people of this city.”

“They’re welcoming and warm. Even to strangers. Especially to strangers. When you’re in someone’s home, there’s plenty of vodka to go around, and plates and plates of food. Guests are expected to bring a gift. Residents are fiercely loyal to their culture and their history. Russian brands are always preferred. Oh, and when you give flowers, always do so in an odd number. No one here wants a dozen roses.”

“Interesting.”

They crossed a wide river and David began pointing out different buildings. There were museums and theaters and more churches than she’d thought possible, each more beautiful than the last.

“The American embassy,” he said, pointing to his left. “You were there last night.”

“The place to run to if I get into trouble, right?” she asked with a chuckle.

David glanced at her. “Absolutely. Don’t hesitate, even for a second. If something happens, go there.”

He sounded fierce and she shivered. “Are you trying to scare me?”

“Just keeping you safe. Life is different here than back in Portland. You need to remember that.”

“Don’t worry. Except for this day of sight-seeing, my trip here will revolve around the orphanage and getting Natasha. I doubt I’ll get into any trouble with that.”

“Good point.”

He continued to drive around, showing her the sights. At last they parked and began to walk.

The June day was sunny and in the high sixties. David had brought her to a tourist area and she saw people from all over the world. She recognized a few of the languages spoken, but not all.

“Do you like it here?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“How long are you going to stay?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve already extended my assignment twice. I could head back to the States if I wanted.”

“Do you want to, or is the spy business too good?”

He took her hand and laced his fingers with hers. “I’m into the James Bond thing. It works with the ladies.”

“Like you need help there.” She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “Seriously, David, you’re not actually a spy, right?”

“I’m an attaché with the Department of Information.”

“And…?”

“And here’s what I brought you to see.”

He stopped walking and pointed to their right. Liz was about to complain that he hadn’t really answered the question when she turned and saw the most amazing structure she’d ever seen in her life.

The building was huge, a mass of colors and different-shaped domes. Parts were familiar, as if she’d seen them in pictures or on television.

“St. Basil’s Cathedral,” David said. “Built in the mid 1500s by Ivan the Terrible. He was said to have blinded the architects after they finished so that they could never build such a beautiful church again.”

“The man earned his title.”

“In every way possible.”

David led her through the church. She couldn’t believe how beautiful everything was, from the flowers painted on the walls to the many icons. Restoration was under way in parts of the church, and she paused to drop money into a box for the fund.

“They’ll be intrigued,” he said as she finished pushing in a five-dollar bill.

Liz winced. “Oops. Rubles, right? I changed money before I came, but I forgot it back at the room. So much for being the sophisticated world traveler.”

He laughed and pulled her close. “I’ll take care of you. Speaking of which, what are you in the mood for, lunchwise? I can offer you everything from traditional Russian cuisine to a place that serves pretty decent Tex-Mex.”

“Let’s go traditional,” she said with a grin. “I’ve always liked beets.”

The restaurant was small, dark and intimate. Liz liked how the wooden tables were covered with thick white cloths and how the oversize chairs seemed to swallow her up.

She and David were seated by a window with a view of the street. Sunlight danced on the polished wood floors.

“Everything is good here,” David said as he handed her a menu.

She glanced down at the laminated cardboard, then laughed. “It’s all in Russian.”

“You did say traditional.”

“Then you’re going to have to translate.”

“Fair enough. What are you in the mood for?”

They sat close to each other, their knees touching, their arms bumping. This afternoon was thousands of miles and nearly five years from their last lunch, but there were still similarities: the need to discover everything about him all at once. The sense of there not being enough time. The wanting that lurked just below the surface.

“Liz?”

“Hmm? Oh, lunch. Why don’t you decide for me?”

He placed their order, then smiled at her. “Nervous about tomorrow?”

“A little. I know Natasha is too young to remember me from my first visit. I just hope I don’t scare her. I’ll get to spend some time with her, but she won’t be returning to my hotel with me for a couple of days.”

“You’ll both need to adjust.”

“Me more than her.” She bit her lower lip. “I want to be a good mother.”

“Why would you doubt yourself?”

“Lack of experience.”

“So you’ll learn as you go. Isn’t that what usually happens?”

“I guess.”

What she didn’t say is that many new mothers had assistance from family members. There were other women around who knew what the different cries meant and what to worry about and what was no big deal.

“How old is she?” he asked.

“Four months.”

“Can she do anything? Walk? Talk?”

Liz laughed. “She’s just learning her multiplication tables, but we’re going to have to wait another week until she masters fractions.”

He grinned. “Is that your way of telling me no?”

“Pretty much.”

“I’m not a baby person. I don’t know from timetables.”

“She can hold up her head and will soon be rolling over.”

He leaned closer. “Sounds exciting.”

A wild and potentially insane idea popped into Liz’s head. She tried to let it go and when she couldn’t, she opened her mouth and blurted it out.

“Would you like to come with me tomorrow when I go see Natasha at the orphanage?”