A Game with One Winner. Lynn Raye Harris

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      “You’ll just need to call another one,” she said as he led her toward the glass doors of a tall building. “I really should get home. My child needs me.”

      “Funny you did not think of this when you were sitting in front of your doorstep.”

      “I—I was overwhelmed.”

      Roman punched in an entry code and the doors slid open. “By sudden desire for me, yes. I am very flattered.” Except that he didn’t sound flattered at all. He sounded bored. “Now come and take something for your head.”

      Caroline hesitated a moment, but where would she go if she didn’t go inside? This was the financial district at night, not Times Square. The taxis were fewer, the bustle much less. Did she want to stand on the street in an evening dress and frantically wave at taxis?

      In the end, she entered the building, walking in silence beside the man she’d once loved, as he led her past a desk staffed with a security guard, and into a private elevator. The ride up was quick, and she was hardly surprised when the doors opened at the penthouse. Roman exited the elevator. She followed, her heart hammering as she stepped inside the masculine space.

      A wall of windows lined the entire front of the apartment, looking out over the Manhattan skyline. The space was open from one end to the other, each area flowing into the next: the kitchen with its huge marble-topped island and stainless appliances, the dining room, the living room in which they stood, and onward toward the bedroom she could see through the open door to her right.

      Roman left her standing in the living room. She heard the clink of glassware, and then liquid being poured. He returned a moment later with a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin.

      “For your headache,” he said, when she didn’t move to take them from him.

      “Oh, yes,” she blurted. “Thanks.”

      She took the water and then Roman shook two aspirin into her hand. She popped them in her mouth and swallowed them down. She truly did have a headache, but it was due to stress and not a migraine.

      Roman went and opened a sliding door to a large terrace. After a moment’s hesitation, Caroline followed him outside. The night air was cool this high up, the breeze that ruffled her hair refreshing. She’d laid her small purse on a table inside, but she’d kept her wrap. She pulled it tighter and gazed out over the city.

      “Is this yours?” she asked.

      “Da. I bought it over a year ago.”

      Her insides twisted. “You’ve come to New York before?”

      He’d walked the same streets she had? Gone into the shops? What if she’d rounded a corner one day, with Ryan holding her hand, and bumped into Roman? A chill that had nothing to do with the night air skated over her soul. She felt as if she should have known he was here somehow, but the truth was that she hadn’t.

      He turned to look at her, his eyes sparkling in the lights from the living room. “Of course. Did you think I would avoid it because you were here?”

      She shook her head. “No, but I’m surprised I didn’t hear of it before. The press does seem to follow you around.”

      She didn’t purposely seek information about him, but even she could not avoid the checkout stand headlines when they blared something about the sexy Russian and his latest conquest, be it female, business or real estate.

      He shrugged. “I am interesting to them because I came from nothing. If I returned to nothing, they would abandon me in a heartbeat.”

      He could never be nothing, this tall, enigmatic man who made her ache in ways she’d nearly forgotten.

      “You’ve done well for yourself,” she said, trying to keep the subject somewhat safe.

      Except there was no safety with him.

      “Yes,” he said, his voice cool. “I know it must be a shock to you and your family. With enough polish, even the filthiest of mongrels can appear well-bred and sophisticated.”

      His words smarted. She had never thought him beneath her, though she’d let him believe that in the end. Her mother, however, had never approved of her infatuation with him. Both her parents had been nearly frantic with the thought that Caroline would not do her duty and save the stores, when Jon’s parents had pushed for marriage.

      She’d proved otherwise, but to this day her mother refused to speak of Roman, though she surely knew that her grandson didn’t resemble Jon Wells in the least.

      “That was a long time ago,” Caroline said quietly. “I’d rather not speak of it anymore.”

      He took a step toward her, closing the distance until she could feel the warmth emanating from his body. Her brain told her to run; her body told her to step into him. She was paralyzed with warring desires—but Roman was not.

      He looped an arm around her waist casually, tugged her toward him until she was flush against his body. She shuddered with the burning memories the contact brought up. Flesh against flesh, hard against soft, heat and moisture and pleasure so intense she’d thought she would die.

      “Do you wish to forget everything, Caroline? Have you forgotten this?”

      His head dipped toward hers, and she closed her eyes, unable to turn away even if she’d wanted to. She didn’t want to.

      For one brief moment, she wanted to feel this sensation again. She wanted to feel the incredible heat of desire for a man—this man—burning her from the inside out. She wanted to feel like a woman one more time.

      His mouth claimed hers almost savagely, his tongue sliding between her parted lips to duel with her own. Caroline’s knees turned to liquid, until she was leaning into Roman and supporting herself with her hands gripping his strong arms.

      He held her against him, his body responding to hers in ways that made her sigh with longing. He demanded everything in that kiss, and she gave it. She didn’t know how to do anything else. Roman was the only man she’d ever burned for; shockingly, she still burned for him.

      He threaded a hand in her hair and dragged her head back to give him better access. Caroline’s hands slid along the opulent fabric of his tuxedo, wound around his neck, her body arching into his with abandon.

      She was flung back through time to another moment, another kiss. The first time he’d ever kissed her, they’d been standing on a terrace like this one—only it had not belonged to him. It had been her family apartment on Fifth Avenue, and her parents were having a cocktail party. Roman, as her father’s star employee in the accounting and marketing department, had been invited. He hadn’t been a member of the upper crust, but he’d stood out in his tuxedo as if he’d been born to be there.

      Caroline had never doubted his ability to fit into her world. She’d been flirting with him on and off for the last several weeks. She’d made a point to go through his department every time she’d gone to the Sullivan Group’s headquarters.

      That night, however, she’d seen a different side to Roman Kazarov. He’d been utterly breathtaking and totally in control. Smooth, suave, compelling. She’d known, watching СКАЧАТЬ