Page 9 of Betrothed
Perhaps he was merely acting, but his shoulders slumped even though his dazzling eyes continued to entrap my full attention. “A beautiful woman who knows how to crush a man’s ego. Now there’s no possible way I will enjoy my drink.” With more emphasis on his husky accent, he lowered his head as if crushed.
“Very nice try, but I must ask. How many women find that line remotely inspirational?”
“While inspiration can come from fascinating sources, evidently none.” His expression of pleasure had returned, a crackle of electricity sparking between us. But as he rubbed his chin, I was allowed the enjoyment of studying the move. His stubbled jawline was like a matte finish, rough enough to light a spark. “I’ve lost my touch.”
“Well, then. I guess I need to assist you in breaking your losing streak.”
His smile was genuine, the look brightening the darkness I’d seen before. “Then allow me to guide the way.” He didn’t ask and I didn’t argue when he clasped his hand over mine, rubbing the tip of his index finger across my knuckle before taking the handle of my rolling luggage from me.
There was a sense of chivalry that surprised me as much as the strong connection. In a sea of gorgeous men for days, none had awakened even a hint of desire within me.
We walked through the crowd with slow and easy steps while almost everyone else in the airport hurried to their destinations.
“Would it be against the rules if I asked your name?” His question brought a laugh.
“I didn’t know we had rules.”
He took several additional long strides before stopping just in front of the door. “I’ll confess a little secret. I almost never follow rules. They are far too confining.”
The man was as charming as he was disarming, but I had a strong feeling he wasn’t lying to me. “Well said. Perhaps for tonight I’ll forgo my usual rules as well. But since we’ll never see each other again, why not keep it simple and the illusion of mystery intact by using first names only? Vivian.”
With a slight nod, he opened the door, immediately retrieving his wallet. “Kirill.” With everything automatic, he was simply required to wave a thick black card in front of a scanner. However, an attendant was close by, immediately greeting us.
“Welcome back, Mister?—”
He stopped her by placing a finger across his lips and she smiled.
“Why do I have a feeling you’ve played this game before and the lovely blonde is well aware of your tactics?”
His chuckle sent a single well-defined shiver down my spine. “In truth, I’ve been inside this airport once. However, Tiffany did ensure my time spent at the club was pleasant enough. Although I must say, given I’m used to traveling privately, all this takes some getting used to.”
He didn’t ask where I’d prefer sitting, instead guiding us to a table for two with a spectacular view of the runway with the city as a picturesque background.
The chairs were soft leather, the setting relaxing with low lights and candles on the tables. While it was still the afternoon, I’d been dropped off early so I could avoid missing my flight. I was on a tight upcoming schedule with no room for error.
As a plane began rolling down the long runway, I cringed and hadn’t realized I’d done so audibly, my moans catching me off guard.
“You don’t like flying,” Kirill offered. There was no need for him to pull a chair out for me, but he waited to sit down until I was comfortable, a move that surprised me.
“Flying is fine. Crashing isn’t on my bucket list for this century or any other.”
“You do realize?—”
I threw my hand out. “I know the statistics. My cousin sent me every aviation report in the world, so I’d agree to fly to Rome with her.”
“Did it work?” He was more than remotely amused, but I wasn’t angry, merely annoyed with myself. When I gave him a look as ifto ask if he was kidding, he laughed. “Obviously I have the most incredible woman sitting across from me, so were you able to shove aside your fear?”
“Please don’t call the terror irrational or I’ll ask the waiter for a steak knife from the restaurant.”
“To cut out my heart?” Every word dripping from his mouth was sensual. He could read the phone book and women would fall at his feet begging for more.
“More like your eyes, although they are your best feature.”
“I’m not certain whether to take that as a compliment or a criticism.”
“Perhaps both,” I teased. “It’s very true that eyes are windows to a man’s soul, but they can often wear dark shades over them, distorting reality in a way that leaves you uncertain if what you’re seeing and experiencing is truth or fantasy.”
“Very deep. I suppose I should feel flattered you believe me capable of hiding behind any mask.”
