THE FOLLOWING IS THE FIRST CHAPTER OF ALEX AND T's STORY, a version = of which has been read by several editors at several publishing houses

THE FOLLOWING IS THE FIRST CHAPTER OF ALEX AND T's STORY= , a version of which has been read by several editors at several publishing hou= ses. The manuscript has also finaled in the RWA Golden Heart contest.=

DIAMOND’S FIRE

CHAPTER ONE, or

HOW ALEX MET T<= /span>

She knew she had to think fast when they brought him into the room, prodding him roughly with their weapons. She recognized him immediately, even under = all that dirty snow and unkempt hair. She had thought him very attractive from = the computer files but up close, he was magnificent.

They had pulled off his fur coat and cut away his sweater, and he shivered slightly in the cold room, although his expression remained watchful and ca= lm. The thermal shirt he wore clung to his broad chest, outlining the body she = had imagined touching when she’d studied his file. It took her a moment to realize that he was looking directly at her. She took a deep breath and cal= mly returned his gaze. He didn’t know her, after all.

He hadn’t changed much from the file photos, although they were a few years old. His blond hair was longer and blonder than she’d thought, = as if he had been staying out in the sun a lot. His blue eyes still captured h= ers, and she felt a tingle of awareness as he studied her. A hint of a smile gho= sted his full, sensual lips, as if he knew exactly how he affected her. Impossib= le, she thought. She was not that easy to read.

“Talia, love, he’s eyeing you,” the man beside her said mockingly. “Do you know him?”

She couldn’t take her eyes away from the prisoner. There were so many questions she wanted to ask, like what the hell was he doing here? “N= o, I don’t think so,” she lied, pretending to study the man closely. “You said he’s American, Sasha?”

“That’s what his ID says,” Sasha answered. He flipped open the wallet in his hand. “Robert Alexander Diamond,” he read alo= ud in thick, accented English. “D. O. B.?”

“Date of birth,” she told him, also in English, with a softer, gentler accent. She didn’t need him to tell her that the prisoner was thirty-seven years old.

“Ah, da. Date of birth.” Sasha paused again, frowning. He was a good-looking man, with a deep scar marring one side of his face, from the corner of one eye down to almost his throat. The puckered skin added menace= to a face too pretty to have been in such a vicious knife fight. His lips purs= ed as he tried to read the information.

She immediately guessed the problem. “Americans, Sasha,” she ge= ntly explained, “reverse the month and the date.”

“Bah,” Sasha succinctly gave his opinion about American ways.
She laughed, as was expected of her, then stepped closer to the Russian man. “Let me see this ID, darling.” Nice fake, she noted, and again wondered what he was doing here, in Siberia. He would be another problem tonight, to add to her current one. She couldn’t decide which was the more difficult task—avoiding the amorous advances of Sasha Barinsky without raising his suspicions or saving= the ass of Alexander Diamond, COS Commando currently on the lam.

“Well, anything to tell us whether he is really as he said, a lost photographer?” Sasha growled. “Here, look at these papers on hi= m. His formal Russian is quite good, for a dumb American journalist.”

“Ah, da.” She gave the silent prisoner a hard glance. Why did he use that job description? He was just asking for trouble. “Now he does remind me of someone, Sasha. There is an American photo-journalist named Ro= bert Diamond. That middle name threw me off.”

“What do you think he’s doing here in Si= beria?”

“There’s a Robert Diamond who writes adventure articles. HeR= 17;s famous, in a way. Likes to do what they call ‘extreme wilderness photography.’ You know, camp in dangerous places, take photos. Very A= merican.”

Sasha Barinsky took a step toward the American standing there quietly betwe= en his two guards. The prisoner was too calm for his liking. “You are in= a dangerous place now, Robert Diamond,” he addressed him, in his halting English, “Why are you here?”

These weren’t Russian militia, like he’d first assumed. Alex lo= oked at the man and woman as they discussed him. The man was obviously the leade= r, standing stiffly in his shiny boots and wearing expensive jewelry and a Rol= ex watch. But it was the woman who drew his attention; ever since they’d shoved him into this barely furnished room, with its dim lights and dank ai= r, he had felt drawn to her. It was a strange feeling; he had not been drawn to anything for a long time.

Exotic and glamorous, she didn’t fit these surroundings. She was tall, maybe three or four inches under his own six feet two—it was hard to = tell with her in heels—and dressed elegantly in cashmere and fur. She wore fur-lined boots that emphasized the shapely length of her endless legs, and like her companion, her fingers were decked with rings. Her black hair glea= med against the white fur of her scarf and her eyes were equally dark as she studied him. She had the exquisite bone structure of an Astrakhan princess, with high cheekbone= s and a perfect oval face. She could have been a model in a fashion magazine. He’d have liked to photograph her. He frowned. There was something familiar about her face, but he couldn’t discern what it was.

He understood their fast Russian dialect but didn’t show his comprehension, waiting till they spoke to him in English. When they had fir= st stopped him at the road, he had used stilted formal Russian, like a traveler who knew enough to get by. He was lucky he did. Something told him that the= se men didn’t want him to understand too much. His life was in danger, what = with the twenty-odd guards he had counted outside, plus these two beside him. Wherever he was, it was a heavily armed place.

“Why are you here?” the man called Sasha asked him.

“I tried to explain to your men,” Alex replied in a slow drawl. “I have permission, as you can see from my papers, to cross-country s= ki to get photographs for my next magazine article about this beautiful remote area in Siberia. I must have made a wron= g turn because this sure isn’t Slabinja, is it?”

“Slabinja is south of here. You’re fifteen kilometers off,̶= 1; the woman—Talia, wasn’t it?—told him. He liked her voice,= low and lilting, the accent making her English softly attractive.

“Then, if you’ll kindly release me and give me back my equipmen= t, I’ll be on my way,” Alex said. And he would be. He had no inter= est in finding out what these people were up to. He had an inkling, but he didn’t want to know. Those days were over.

Sasha laughed, a short unpleasant sound. “Robert, it is unfortunate f= or you but you will have to stay. I cannot trust you not to report to the authorities. I don’t even know that you are not a spy.”

“A spy, darling?” Talia questioned lightly, a mocking smile forming. “You’ve been watching American movies again.”

Her grasp of the English language was very good, Alex noted, as he listened= to them.

Sasha nodded. “That’s the only good thing out of that place.= 221; He turned to the guards and reverted back to the native dialect. “Sea= rch him for hidden weapons, then lock him up. I will make him talk later.” Then, in that heavy English, he said to Alex, “You will be detained, Robert Diamond, till my business is done, then I’ll free you tomorrow.”

Alex didn’t let them know that he had understood every threatening wo= rds Sasha had said to his guards. He only slanted a long look at Talia, whose d= ark eyes seemed to hold a thousand secrets. He wondered whether she was as cold-hearted as she appeared, accepting the death of an unfortunate stranger without any emotion.

“Let me search him,” she suddenly said, still in that Russian dialect, and the smile she gave him was maddeningly mocking. “It̵= 7;s his last few hours. He should have a woman’s touch.”

“Ah, Talia, always after...”

“Tsk, Sasha, don’t insult me, please. After all, I got you your firepower very cheaply, no?”

Alex blinked, but didn’t move a muscle. Firepower. That could mean on= ly one thing in this part of the world. These people were dealing with illegal weapons, and right now, the hottest illegal Russian firepower was dismantled nuclear-capable weaponry. Damn. He was knee-deep in trouble. They didn̵= 7;t intend to have any witnesses. And he wondered whether this Talia knew that = he would understand their dialect, if she was deliberately giving him a warnin= g.

Sasha curled an arm across Talia’s shoulders, drawing her close to hi= m. His hand caressed her dark tresses possessively. “Later, my sweet,= 221; he promised her, the leer in his voice obvious, “I shall pay you well.”

Talia made a moue. “Later. Now, I want to search this American.”= ;

Sasha sighed indulgently. “All right, but I’m not going to stay here and watch. I’ll be in my quarters waiting after my meeting with = my men. You will come up soon?”

“Of course, darling.”

Sasha nodded at his men. “The cell,” he reminded them, “a= fter Talia Fyodorevna is through with the American.”

“Da,” the two guards said in unison, their faces impassive. Sas= ha Barinsky left the room.

Alex watched as Talia slowly circled him once. Twice. Her boots clicked on = the bare cement floor. He was getting colder by the minute, and knew that the w= oman had stopped the search by the guards as a favor to him. They would have stripped him and he would probably freeze to death in the hellhole they were planning to throw him. Not that he wouldn’t be dead at the hands of t= he unpleasant Sasha when he deigned to extricate himself from the delectable Talia’s charms. Again, he wondered what this exotic creature was up t= o, subtly coming to his rescue twice already.

She was an impressive-looking woman, exuding elegance and enough confidence that told him that she wasn’t what she appeared to be. Her eyes were unrevealingly dark, only the small smile on her shapely lips betrayed her amusement. Her steps around him had insolent pauses, as if she were admiring something about him. She liked to play games, this one.

She finally stopped in front of him again, standing so close her perfume tantalized the air. Her head tilted to one side slightly, as if she was considering how to amuse herself.

“You’ll have to bear my hands on you, darling,” she drawl= ed in that marvelous accent again, and fluttered elegant fingers suggestively a few inches from his chest, “or these guards will report that I didn’t touch you.”

“Rather you, dushka, than their paws,” Alex assured her mildly, still unsure of her motives.

Talia smiled at the endearment, then came forward and ran her hands over the taut, masculine body, pretending to search for hidden weapons. She knew whe= re he would hide them, if he had any. She knew what his specialty was, exactly= how he could escape, given the right chance, but she didn’t think he woul= d be able to tonight without her intervention.

Her eyes held Alex’s as her hands moved over him with deliberate insolence. Wide shoulders. Impressive pectorals. He had kept his physical prowess while he’d been gone. That told her a lot. And she went lower still, touching his chest and stomach, then smoothed her hands around his w= aist to explore his lower back. Her hands moved back to the front, lightly resti= ng above his snow-dampened pants.

“Part your legs, darling,” she murmured, keeping her voice amus= ed. “You know the procedure.”

Alex obliged, standing with his feet apart. Her hands were impersonal, but = not exactly leaving him unaffected. She explored him more like someone memorizi= ng his body than a person doing a body search, but she concealed it well. Only= he could feel the curious tenderness of her hands as she glided them intimately over his chest, under his arms, down his stomach.

There was something very erotic in the way she went down on her knees in fr= ont of him as she continued her sensual search. He refused to let go of her moc= king gaze, looking down into the dark depths of those beautiful eyes—searc= hing for that familiar thing that had caught him by surprise—even as her wicked hands traveled up his thighs, her thumbs teasing the inseam of his underpants with delicate pressure, bringing his senses to a keening awarene= ss that had nothing to do with the frigid air. He may only be wearing his ther= mal clothes, but Alex was suddenly no longer cold. He concentrated on not revea= ling the effect of her hands on him.

Talia dared not linger, but made sure that the guards saw her thorough sear= ch before she left a micro device on his inner thigh. Now she would know exact= ly where they put him.

“There, painless.” She straightened, still smiling. “And = my compliments on such a beautiful body.”

She had been tempted to explore a little more, but some fantasies were best left unfulfilled. And her fantasies of Number One had always been...interesting.

“I’ll return the favor sometime.”

Amused, she tilted her head to acknowledge the unspoken challenge. Even in danger, a COS Commando was cocky as ever. Training was deeply ingrained in = all of them, even the reluctant ones. “If you’re freed tomorrow,= 221; she said softly, leaving the rest of the sentence unfinished.

“I’ll certainly work on it,” Alex promised.

“You’re going to need friends,” Talia came back. There, s= he had given him enough hints. “As they say in the States, darling. Late= r, alligator.” She stepped back and nodded to the two guards. They start= ed to lead Alex out of the room, shoving him towards the door. He gave her a backward glance. She winked at him, looking absurdly majestic in that danky, badly lit room.

There was a time in his life when he would have been prepared for moments l= ike this, but that was almost two years ago. Twenty two months nineteen days, t= o be exact. And certainly not in this lifetime.

Alex stared at the ceiling above him, ignoring the growing numbness around = his wrists. He was tied spread eagle on some sort of wooden bed and the cold was slowly robbing him of his strength. Soon he would be too weak to even attem= pt an escape.

Not that he would be successful. He was unprepared for this and his skills = were rusty from lack of practice. So if he died, it would be his own fault.

But he didn’t mind dying. He had felt dead inside for a long time now, since....He tried to let his own past sorrow drown out his will to live, bu= t it wasn’t easy when he had been a man driven to enjoy life at the edge. = Old habits died hard, and his own mental strength, the very core of him that was indomitable, refused to obey his own demands to let go. To give up.

Robert Alexander Diamond, damn his soul, was still COS Command’s Numb= er One of the VIRUS Unit, no matter how far he ran away from reality. The man = with the many accents, who could move like a shadow in and out of any predicamen= t. The one who divert attention from the others—that was his specialty. = No matter what, he was still one of the members of the elite team from which he had walked away.

So he lay there, torn between letting fate take its course or to take charg= e of his own destiny, as he had always done before he had disappeared, before fa= te took Emma from him.

He exhaled slowly, cursing that he was willing his body to fight the cold.<= br>
It was difficult to give up. He could at least have the decency to stop wan= ting to try, but his punishment was to face the guilt of wanting to live. Even w= hen he really felt dead inside, his will wanted to live. Damn his will. Damn his love of life.

A sound from the only window in his cell broke through his reverie. The cra= cked and dirty opening was high on the wall across the bed and leaked in the col= d, wintry blast like a sieve. Right now, someone was doing something against i= t, a gentle humming sound that merged with the Siberian wind outside. Impercepti= ble except to his trained ears, because he’d heard that particular hum before.

His sight had always been excellent in the dark, and he could see the distinctive shape of a hand against one of the square panes. He counted the seconds, knowing exactly how long it would take before a slight push of that hand would loosen the glass. He had done the same thing many times before, = in another lifetime. Whoever it was must be freezing because the hand was ungloved. He continued watching calmly, intrigued at the sight of the lone = pale hand that slipped in and expertly unlatched the window. It opened without protest, and the room became decidedly chillier by the second. He supposed = his captors didn’t care if he would attempt to escape through that openin= g, considering that he was unlikely to survive long outside in his thermal underclothes.

A duffle bag dropped on the floor with a soft thud. A lean, lithe figure followed, dropping down on all fours like a cat. Turning around with the gr= ace of a dancer, the newcomer closed the window and stuffed something into the = hole that had been created a few minutes ago.

The invader was noiseless, efficient, picking up the duffle bag on the floor before advancing towards the bed. The rich midnight hair had disappeared in= to the inky color of the furry hood, and the pearly paleness of the face emphasized those glittering black eyes.

So what if he was spread-eagled? He had always been polite to visitors. Alex gave the approaching figure a small smile, willing his teeth to stop chattering.

“Welcome to my parlor, dushka,” he murmured.<= /p>

Releasing the bag, Talia pushed back the black hood. She took a good look at Alex and smiled, enjoying the sight of muscular arms and legs spread so temptingly. She liked the view indeed. She also liked what he called her. S= he was, even though he didn’t mean it, his dushka, a woman after a piece of his heart.

“I hope you’re not too uncomfortable, darling. Sasha was...difficult to put to sleep.” She reached down and touched him. “You’re too cold to move quickly.”

Alex watched her pull a heavy fur coat out of the duffle bag on the floor. = She laid its wonderfully welcomed thickness over him. Then she crawled undernea= th it too.

He was tied spread-eagle on his deathbed, and a beautiful, mysterious woman= was stretched out on top of him under a fur coat. Bliss, he supposed.

And hot guilt immediately scalded his consciousness. He was supposed to thi= nk of Emma, especially at a time to do with death. Not get a hard-on because a stranger was rubbing against him with her body. He hadn’t felt this s= trong a desire since Emma, and again, his guilt gnawed at him. Lust he could excu= se away, but desire...desire was unforgivable.

“Get off me.” His voice was harsh from his inner pain.

Talia felt his stiffening muscles and frowned, wondering what was wrong. “Relax,” she whispered. “You need to warm up quickly and = body heat is the fastest way I know.” She cut the rope tying his wrists. “Bring your arms down, darling. I need you to get your blood moving.”

His silence was disturbing, as if he wasn’t sure what to do next. She looked down at him, puzzled. Perhaps he’d forgotten the need to hurry. Two years outside could dull the best-trained operative. Also, he was in a strange mood, not like his previous mocking self at all. He seemed...ill at ease.

The best way to move someone to action was anger, and with practiced ease, = she goaded him. “What’s the matter, darling? Think this cold body of yours drove me so mad with lust that I’d brave the Siberian weather j= ust to bed you?” She laughed softly, then deliberately reverted back to t= he Russian dialect that Sasha and she had used earlier. She had known all along that Number One could understand them. “American men can’t warm= a woman like a Russian stud, my love.”

A direct hit. His eyes narrowed and before she could say another word, an a= rm of steel wrapped around her while another hand clasped the back of her neck, forcing her head down toward his.

His lips were hard, punishing. He kissed her like she’d always imagined—with complete mastery, his tongue a demanding lover, explori= ng her mouth as if he had the right to do so. But she hadn’t expected the heat. Something lit up inside her as his tongue tangled with hers, and she forgot her original purpose in provoking him. He pulled her closer, slanting his head, and a growl sounded deep in his throat when her lower body pushed hard against him. The heat had spread downwards and she burned where he was intimately nesting between her legs. The clothes between them were no barri= er at all as the arm around her waist traveled lower and pushed on her buttocks rhythmically. She moaned in answer into his mouth, a part of her amazed at = her response to this man.

Alex broke off the kiss, panting hard. She’d manipulated him with that last remark, damn her, and he’d fallen for it like a first-year train= ee. He’d intended to punish, but at the first taste of those shapely lips, he’d succumbed to the desire that he had been fighting. She tasted faintly of vodka and honey, an erotic combination of both wild and sweet promises, and he wanted to take her right there, in the middle of Nowhere, = Siberia, on the way to certain death.

This woman made him forget Emma in a way that was unforgivable, and Alex wa= nted to strike back. But the Russian beauty seemed remarkably able to read his moods, this mysterious woman who responded to him with a fierce wildness th= at had almost undone him.

“No time for anger,” she told him, her voice huskier than befor= e. “You are warm now, no?”

“You did all that to warm me up?” He wasn’t sure that he didn’t feel piqued at her nonchalance. Deliberately, he moved his hand down the rounded curves of her bottom until it slid into the notch between = her upper thighs. “You seem hot yourself, dushka,” he whispe= red mockingly.

Talia was burning up, and wished they were in her bed away at her place ins= tead of in a cold, musty room. “I stay hot,” she retorted, and closed her eyes briefly when his knowing fingers moved. This job was getting too complicated. “We...have to go.”

“It would help if you untie my legs too.”

She had forgotten about that. He had done something no one had ever succeed= ed at — made her forget her mission. She wasn’t sure whether she l= iked that at all, but now wasn’t the time to contemplate personal weakness= es.

She sat astride him, and ignoring the telltale and tempting heat of his aro= usal asserting its presence against her own corresponding heat, turned gracefull= y to cut the ropes still imprisoning his legs. Oh God. She closed her eyes in the darkness. Sitting on top of him like this, other way around, made him feel = even more demandingly huge, and as he moved his legs experimentally at their release, working the tense and stretched muscles, she felt another limb, spectacularly rigid, straining against her, seeking her. It was all she cou= ld do not to rub herself against such blatant desire. Now was not the time, she thought. Certainly not the place.

“Let’s go.” She crawled out from under the heavy coat and= got away from him before his body could distract her again. Silently, she pulled gloves and hat out of the duffel bag and handed them to Alex as he put the = coat on. “You’ll be needing these, love. Follow me closely when we g= et out of here.”

“I wouldn’t think of going off on my own,” Alex assured h= er gravely, not bothering to add that there was enough heat between his legs to warm him for the rest of the night.

She was clearly a woman used to giving orders, which in itself told him ple= nty about her relationship with that Sasha fellow. She wasn’t the mere tr= ophy mistress he had at first assumed, and she certainly must have a good reason= to want to save his life. As he followed her out of the window, his bigger fra= me barely squeezing through, he tried to guess of what use he was to this woman who moved with the surprising speed of one trained to operate in covert missions. His eyes narrowed at the thought.

Words could not describe the miserable weather outside. The Siberian wind w= as stealthy, blasting viciously one direction, then seeming to disappear for a while, only to sneak back from another direction. It was a dry wind, despite the snowy conditions. Alex didn’t mind. His body, still thrumming in protest, needed to cool off.

They moved alongside the building, staying in the shadows. Alex was glad of= the thick clothing she had given him. It would have been a daunting task to sur= vive in his underclothes in this weather, had he been able to escape on his own. After a few more turns, she tracked across an empty lot, cleared of snow, s= till staying as much in the shadows as possible. Alex followed her in silence, s= tudying her quick cat-like movements.

“This bad weather kept them from patrolling outside tonight, so we are fortunate,” she murmured, then pointed to one direction. “That = way is Slabinja. Here are the keys to my vehicle over there, and your cameras a= re also in the duffel bag. Take them and drive like hell out of here. You have ten minutes, that’s all.”

Alex looked at her, surprised. He had expected more—a request, a dema= nd. “And you, dushka?” he asked.

“You don’t have to worry about me, darling. I have...things to do.”

“Going back to your stud’s bed?”

Her dark eyes glittered back at him. “But of course.” Her reply= was smooth. “It wouldn’t do for him to miss me.”

“Why, Talia?” Alex asked, needing to know. “Why did you f= ree me? What do you expect from me in return?” Everything had a price, af= ter all.

She only smiled at him and patted his cheek with her now gloved hand. “Consider it a whim of fancy,” she told him. “A sexy Amer= ican man shouldn’t be wasted because he made a wrong turn, so...goodbye, a= nd go home before you get into more trouble.”

It was strange to be warned off by a woman. It felt totally unfamiliar to b= e on the receiving end of a rescue. Alex wondered whether fate was playing a game with him, forcing him to remember his past life. “Maybe we’ll m= eet again, so I can thank you properly.”

She shook her head, still smiling. “I doubt it. I don’t exist in your world.”

Little did he know how much truth there was in that sentence, she thought. = One more time, she decided impulsively. Leaning toward him, she brushed his lips with hers. In response, he caught her face between his hands, staring inten= tly into her eyes.

She whispered, “Go. Ten minutes.”

Alex didn’t understand his reluctance to leave her. It was obvious tha= t she couldn’t and wouldn’t come along. Besides, why would he want her with him? Still, his hands held on to her face as he kissed her one last time. Vodka and honey. A Siberian siren. His hands dropped away. “You’re letting me take off without you, just like that.”=

She stepped back and he could see her reluctance. Good. It wasn’t just him.

“As they say in the States, Alex,” she said in parting, her hus= ky accent tempting him again, “Easy come, easy go.”

And swift as the Siberian wind, she was gone, disappearing into the shadows= .

Alex got into her truck and, without turning on the headlights, sped off in= the direction she’d pointed. His mind was full of questions. Why ten minu= tes? A quick glance at the time illuminated on the truck dial told him that was = four minutes away from now. He braked to a stop, then looked back into the darkn= ess toward the armed building.

Three minutes. Why the specific timing? It smacked of a job.

Two minutes. And if it was a job, it could only mean that his rescuer wasn’t there to bed Sasha Barinsky while smuggling weapons.

One minute. She had something else in mind.

The explosion caused a fireball that set off mini explosions in the distanc= e. Alex stared at the glow of the destruction, unruffled by the sudden turn of events. Did she do that? And if so, why? Why kill Sasha and destroy the cac= he of weapons when she could make a bundle selling them to poorer but eager countries? And most puzzling of all, why save him? She didn’t even kn= ow him, yet her touch was familiar, as if she had intimate knowledge of him. He sighed. He didn’t want to get involved in this; he had sworn off political wargames. He had no interest left in saving any nation or any government. He couldn’t even save his own wife.

What was so disturbing was Talia’s effect on him. With her elegant bo= dy and clever hands, this mysterious woman had awakened something inside, and = he was at a crossroad. He wanted to find out more about her, but to do so, he would have to resurrect his old self, something he had been determined to b= ury with the dead. He tried to ignore the memory of dark eyes and eager, sensual lips. If she was behind this explosion, she would have half the Russian Maf= ia and assorted killers after her, and would be dead in no time. He sighed aga= in. He owed it to her to save her, to get her out of trouble.

Turning away from the image of bright orange flames, he drove off toward Slabinja. Photography was no longer on his mind. Whistling softly in the da= rk, one hand played with a small ring he had procured from a certain lady’= ;s finger. He would find her, but he would have to reach old contacts, which w= ould in turn report back to the leader of his unit. A bitter grimace curled his lips. Wouldn’t the Ice Man be shocked after all this time? He shook h= is head in answer. Of course not. Nothing shocked the Number Nine. He probably knew everywhere he had been all these years. He hadn’t exactly been in hiding, just evasive. He had been surprised that no one had been sent out to get him back. No trackers. No contact. Nothing.

Another thought caused him to frown. Talia hadn’t called him Robert w= hen she said goodbye. In fact, she had used endearments until the end, when she= had called him Alex. How had she known that was what his friends knew him as? Damn it, who was she?

He had stolen a ring off her finger. Talia scowled, trying to fathom how th= at was possible. The man was dangerous to her sense of equilibrium--it wasn’t easy to take anything from her without her knowledge. And a ri= ng! That was simply not possible. And yet, it was gone, and she knew deep down = that she hadn’t lost it. Damn it, it was her favorite ring, a tiny Celtic design, the kind they called a friendship/marriage ring, depending on how it was worn. She’d had it specially made, with two small blue diamonds a= dded on. It was a special piece of jewelry, more unique than the thief would ever know. Her scowl deepened. Not possible. How did he slip it off her without = her knowing?

She pulled her black tight-knit sweater off, discarding the rest of her dark clothes into a pile on the floor. A hot bath sounded heavenly. She was glad= to be out of Siberia, and looked forward to being out of Russia tomorrow. Today, she amended, as she glanced at her wristwatch before takin= g it off. 0300 hours. That gave her barely three hours to sleep.

She mentally shrugged, turning on the water to fill the huge spa tub in the hotel bathroom. Why bother? She could rest on the plane. It would be good n= ot to skip back and forth between continents like she had been doing these last four months. It had been necessary, with her life on the line, but phase one was over, thank God.

While the tub was filling, she pulled a makeup box out of the tiny bath clo= set and tapped a special spot on the side. A secret compartment unlatched, and = she took out a few tiny bottles and spoons.

Standing in front of the huge square mirror, she looked critically at her reflection. Three weeks in this wintry, sunless climate had stolen her tan.= She would have to take a tanning pill to remedy the paleness of her skin. She examined her large eyes, still dilated from adrenaline, the straight line of her nose and the generous lips with the pouty lower lip. She must remember = the collagen shot for the upper lip before she checked out. Measuring powders a= nd liquids, she poured and mixed the concoction into empty bottles, humming tunelessly.

Fifteen minutes later, she climbed into the waiting bathtub, and sighed with pleasure. Ahhhh.... Just right. Just what she needed. She hated cold weathe= r, and the last few weeks moving in and out of a frozen, barely civilized litt= le town, if it could be called a town, hadn’t been a cakewalk. In betwee= n, she had to deal with the increasingly amorous Sasha. A rude sound escaped h= er lips. That kind of heat she could do without.

Anyway, he was a means to an end, and the trap to a bigger rodent. Closing = her eyes, she rested against the tub, willing her body to relax in the hot wate= r. One rat at a time, m’dear, she admonished. The next one would be a lot more difficult to handle; he had a reputation of not taking no from women he fancied, and she intended to keep saying no, since she didn’t fancy h= is paws on her either.

The only thing she really fancied, she sighed, was a man who would run away= as fast as a Russian would grab cash, if he ever found out the truth. Not that= he ever would, since their chance meeting was just that. She had wanted Alex Diamond the first time she’d seen his picture in the files. Her natur= al curiosity had urged her to check out his history, to know everything about = him. It was easy enough to gain access to some of his files, and the more she’d learned, the more intrigued she had become.

And two years, or close to it, hadn’t dimmed her attraction to the ma= n, an utter stranger until tonight. He would never know how long she had fantasized such a moment. Did he feel as engulfed in flames as she had when they kissed? She touched her lips with a soapy finger, savoring the memory = of his male lips molding hers, his hard body under hers. Heat suffused her body when she remembered the familiar way his hand caressed her. No, she didn’t mind the heat he generated in her. Not at all.

The cell phone’s buzz startled her. She sat up and wiped her hand on = the towel by the tub before reaching for it. “Hello?”

“It’s me,” a male voice said in English. “My line&#= 8217;s secure. How’s everything?”

“Everything went as planned,” she answered smoothly, her accent= now distinctly American. “I had an unexpected visitor, though.”