Chapter 8

Maybe tonight would be special after all. Piper fetched her black pumps and leaned against the bed to put them on. Her stomach gave another nervous flip as she exited the room and headed toward the staircase. She paused at the top when she realized guests had started to arrive early.

The reception hall was filled with at least a dozen people in suits and cocktail dresses. Jodie was already engaged with some of the guests; she was a complete natural in social situations. Footmen bearing trays of champagne floated among the crowd. The glow of the chandeliers illuminated the bubbling gold liquid in the glasses.

Piper soaked up the moment. She'd come a long way since she'd been a kid in Boston, studying hard instead of going out. Nights like tonight had seemed impossible. Something to daydream about, not experience. She'd come from a middle-class home and had to scrimp and save to get to college. Now it felt like her entire life had led to this moment. She rarely stopped to pat herself on the back, but tonight was a good night to take pride in her achievements.

I earned this. With a smile, she took a step down the stairs, then froze. Two men had just come in the front door. Jodie gave a squeal of delight and approached one of the men, who immediately tucked her arm in his, and they walked deeper into the house, leaving the other man alone. He lifted his gaze as though Piper had called his name.

Mikhail Barinov.

Those green eyes of his almost glowed as he stared at her. For a second Piper panicked. Should she smile? Wave? What was the sexy, casual thing for a woman to do in this situation? God, she wished she were naturally flirty like Jodie. But no, she was awkward and nervous.

When neither of them moved for several long seconds, Piper tried to remember how to breathe. Everything around her seemed to blur at the edges, as though she were trapped in a dream. The sharp light from the chandeliers softened to a golden haze. Her blood pounded in her ears.

Mikhail had the raw, unadulterated look of a man who was picturing a woman without her clothes on. There was the barest hint of darkness there, too, which reminded her again of a predator and that she was his prey. Rather than be upset, Piper's skin burned at the thought of Mikhail looking her over and liking what he saw. The slow curve of his lips sent her heart skittering.

And then he broke the spell that had kept her rooted to the floor by turning away. Before she knew it, he had slipped into the crowd and vanished. Again. The man had a knack for disappearing.

"Ms. Linwood," Mr. Thorne called out to her from the bottom of the stairs. She recovered herself and rushed down to join him.

"Smashing. You look smashing, my dear. I'm glad your friend insisted on taking you shopping." The old Englishman chuckled and offered her an arm to escort her.

A blush heated her skin, but she was pleased to hear the compliment. "Thank you, Mr. Thorne."

"This way," he said as they cut through the throngs of people gathering in the large room.

The jewels that had been set up that afternoon at the museum were now on display in the main small ballroom on various daises beneath protective glass. Piper searched for Mikhail and saw him fixed on a display of ruby bracelets. The red and gold of the jewelry gleamed against the black cloth on which they lay. Once again there was a glint of recognition in Mikhail's eyes that didn't make sense as he stared at the jewels.

"Curious fellow," Thorne murmured next to her.

"Oh?" she asked just as softly.

"He seems most interested in the jewels, and he" The old man shook his head, erasing whatever errant thought had strayed into his mind.

"Mr. Thorne, could I trouble you for some champagne?" She hated to impose upon his good nature, especially with an ulterior motive at play, but she was hoping to get a minute alone with Mikhail. It was silly, but she wanted to see if he would talk to her again.

"Of course." Thorne patted her hand and wandered off in search of a waiter. She composed herself, painted a cool smile on her face, and readied herself to greet him. When she turned back to Mikhail, she growled in frustration. He was gone. Again. She whipped her head around, searching for him, and caught a glimpse of him exiting through a door at the opposite side of the room.

Don't follow him. Piper ignored her inner voice and slipped after him through the crowds. Perhaps she should have heeded the voice in her head, but that voice had kept her living a lonely, bored life. Boring meant not getting her heart broken. Boring was safe. It was long past time she did something dangerous.

She found Mikhail in a small drawing room next to the reception hall. He stood before a fireplace in the dark as if he belonged there. His lean, strong figure and the dark navy-blue suit were lit by flames. The door clicked shut behind her, the sound far too loud in the soft silence of the darkened room. Piper sucked in a breath, watching the shadows play on his dark hair as he turned to her.

"Piper." The word was a silken caress that was straight out of her darkest fantasies. Even though there was a good distance between them, she could hear him clearly, his voice seeming to come at her from all sides thanks to the acoustics of the room.

"Mr. Barinov," she whispered so softly that there was no way he could hear it. But she swore she saw his lips twitch in the dim, shifting, gold-vermilion light.

"Straying off the map into unknown territory, are we?" He chuckled as though it was some private joke. "Here there be dragons."

Piper stared at him. "I followed because" Why had she followed him? Because he was like the damn Pied Piper for women who had tall, dark, sexy stranger fantasies.

"You followed because you can't stop thinking about it." That voice poured over her like molasses, and she could feel a delicious burn grow in her belly.

"Thinking about what?" She didn't move, remaining by the door. But he did.

Mikhail walked toward her with a grace that seemed more panther than human. Her pulse spiked when he stopped mere inches from her. The firelight made the blue of his suit appear to be a dark, rich brown as he placed a hand on the closed door behind her and leaned in. The minty smell of his breath, warm and fresh, fanned her face, and his eyes, although out of view of the fire, seemed to burn with lightgold light.

"You are thinking about" He moved closer, his lips a hair's breadth from her now. "This."

Her heart exploded as he slanted his mouth over hers. Waves of electric, pulsing pleasure at that exquisite kiss sent her head spinning. It was like curling up by the fire on a cold winter's night and putting a glass of warm brandy to her lips, with a slow burn followed by a powerful rush seconds later.

Piper moaned against him as he slipped his tongue between her lips to stroke hers. She was already curling her arms around his neck, dragging him closer. Mikhail pressed his body flush to hers against the door. He was so tall, a daunting wall of muscle, frightening and exciting all at once. He was a man who could take her without asking. The thought, as forbidden as it was, only made her hotter and wetter than she'd ever been before. She should have been ashamed of such thoughts, but in that moment she couldn't be. There was too much pleasure in this kiss, too much exhilaration in her surrender to it. She didn't want it to end, didn't want the distant sounds of the party to intrude upon this perfect unplanned adventure. It would likely never happen again.

He deepened the kiss, his mouth consuming hers with a fire that left her giddy. And then something happenedstrange flickers of images flashed across her closed eyelids. Not her imagination, which had been fixed on Mikhail's animalistic appetite. This was something else.

Men in doublets approaching a throne, a queen with a pale face and red hair, pearls glistening on the bodice of her gown. Then the images changed, a roaring sea beneath her, icy water crashing against a distant shore, a deep loneliness that seemed only to grow until

She saw herself at the exhibit. Saw herself through his eyes, a beacon of color and life drawing him toward her like a moth to a flame. She could feel his heart jolt, his body hum to life as he zeroed in on her. It felt as though he would never look away from her ever again. It was seductive, powerful, frightening, and yet she embraced the rush of emotions that came from him.

Whathow?

He broke the kiss to nip at her throat, and she tilted her head back to let his exploration continue. "It's as though you were made just for me, moya sud'ba."

The way he said the words made her shiver. "What's moya sud'ba?" she asked.

"My destiny," he growled, his eyes bright. "I should have known the moment we first met." He inhaled again. "Even the way you smell, sweet and wild like Fire Hill flowers."

"Fire Hill flowers?" she said in a haze. His clothes were still warm from the fire, and even his skin was hot to the touch.

"The wildflowers from my home. The Fire Hills of Russia. They are soft and sweet, not too much, just" He kissed behind her ear. "Right."

She blushed, unable to stop smiling. "I smell like wildflowers?"

He made a deep-throated purr against the column of her throat, and she dug her nails into his shoulders. "And your taste," he continued in a husky whisper as he kissed her again.