Read on for an excerpt from
MAKE YOU MINE
the next sensational romance from Jackie Ashenden.
Coming soon from St. Martin’s Paperbacks
She didn’t respond, her shoulders stiff with tension. Her gaze shifted so she was looking out of the window behind him. “What do you want from me?”
Alex drained the shot glass and put it back on the coffee table then settled back against the couch cushions.
Looking at her, so tall and straight and immovable, the idea that had occurred to him in the limo now seemed ridiculous. He’d decided that if he was going to fucking Monte Carlo, he wasn’t going alone. But he also didn’t want his back-up/protection to be obvious because that was a weakness he wasn’t ready to reveal to anyone, let alone Conrad South.
Katya hanging around in her black suit and shades, looking her usual lethal best would betray the fact that he was afraid.
Katya hanging around in a gown and high heels, with his arm around her waist, now that was different. She could be a stand-in for his latest lover and no one would question it. People might recognize her as his bodyguard, it was true, but once she was wearing a gown and some flashy jewelry no one would care. They’d probably even think the whole bodyguard thing was a fake, especially if they were observed in public being physical with one another.
Of course he didn’t have to take a bodyguard at all, but Zac had been insistent on him keeping some backup. That whoever had targeted Tremain was still out there and Alex could very well be in the firing line. Well, he was fine with that—as long as said backup was done his way.
He tilted his head, surveying her. With her height she’d be able to carry any kind of gown off beautifully and he was sure there were curves under that severe black suit of hers. She was fair too which meant her skin would be pale, no perma-tan for his Russian ice-princess, that was for sure. With her green eyes and blonde hair she’d look amazing in a green gown. Or blue. Or white …
His gaze settled on her throat. Her shirt was buttoned all the way to the top, the jacket she wore over the top obscuring her shape. Not even an inch of skin beneath that collar was visible.
Abruptly he got up off the couch and prowled over to where she stood. She blinked as he came closer, a crease forming between her brows. “You haven’t answered my question, sir.”
“No, I know I haven’t. I want to see something first.” He stopped right in front of her.
“See what?”
His heart was beating rather faster than normal, which was strange. And he was aware of her scent all of a sudden. Not perfume because she never wore perfume, but the fresh scent of apples, her shampoo maybe or soap. He liked it.
He lifted a hand and before she could move, undid the buttons that held her suit jacket closed.
“Sir, I—”
“Keep still. I need to see something.”
Her frown deepened as her jacket fell open but she did as she was told, the perfect soldier.
He leaned back, running his gaze over her, and yes, he was right, there were definite curves there. The white cotton of her shirt pulled tight over full breasts, the hem tucked into her black pants revealing narrow hips. Long legs too, which made her very definitely his type. At least enough to fool the press and anyone else who happened to see them together.
“What are you doing, sir?”
“One second.”
Alex quickly flicked open the first couple of buttons at her throat.
She took a startled breath, the sound sharp in the silence of the room. He glanced up at her face and for the first time since he’d met her, he read shock clear in her eyes. Shock that quickly gave way to confusion. But she didn’t say anything so he didn’t stop, undoing one more button, the fabric parting to reveal smooth, white skin.
Beautiful. Perhaps this would work after all.
His heartbeat sounded even louder in his head and though there was no reason at all to touch her, he couldn’t help himself, gently laying a finger on the pulse at the base of her throat. Her skin felt warm and that pulse was beating fast. As fast as his.
She’d gone very, very still but he felt her swallow, felt her pulse beat even faster.
The air around them had thickened, becoming dense with tension.
“Sir.…” Her voice was soft but he could hear a faint, husky edge in it. The kind of edge a woman’s voice always held when she was aroused.
Interesting. No, scratch interesting. This was downright fucking intriguing.
“Keep still a moment. I’m testing something.” He moved his finger, unable to resist the temptation, stroking her and watching as goose-bumps rippled over her skin in response.
Ah, yes, so there was chemistry between them, and pretty damn strong chemistry. Excellent. Sexual chemistry would make everything much more convincing.
Katya moved, taking a quick step back, leaving him standing there stroking empty air. She didn’t adjust her clothing but a faint strip of color stained her high cheekbones. “I think you’re mistaking me for someone else, sir,” she said, her voice not quite level. “If you wanted a companion, I’m quite sure you could find another woman more suited to the job than I am.”
He lowered his hand, the warmth of her still glowing on his fingertip. “There are no other women more suited to the job than you are, Katya.”
“I’m not going to—”
“Let me tell you which job I mean first, before you jump to any wild conclusions.”
Her mouth snapped shut, her shoulders straightening.
His own heartbeat continued to beat like a drum. Christ, he was almost on the point of getting hard, which was weird because these days it took a lot more than the brush of a woman’s skin to get him there. It must be the vodka, surely.
Alex ignored the feeling, turning away and strolling back to the couch, sprawling down on it again. “Like I said, I am going to need you at this Monte Carlo game. But this time the job will be a little different to what you’re used to.”
“How different?”
He met her green gaze. Held it. “I don’t want people thinking you’re my bodyguard, Katya mine. I want people thinking you’re my lover.”
* * *
At first she couldn’t quite understand what he meant because she was still finding it difficult to breathe let alone listen to what he was saying. Her throat burned where he’d touched her, in fact she could have sworn she’d felt the outline of his fingerprint on her skin. Each whorl and each ridge. Like a fingerprint lock keyed to a particular person.
He’s unlocking you …
Katya blinked, trying to orient herself. She was breathing fast, like after a very hard workout and her heart rate was up. Way up. There was also a curious tightness to her skin and an adrenaline spike that had raced through her system the moment he touched her then settled right down low in her abdomen, a pulsing ache that her body knew even if her brain refused to process it.
Sexual desire.
She’d never had sex before but she knew intellectually what it was all about. And even if she hadn’t, three months shadowing Alex St. James had certainly taught her more about sex and seduction than she’d ever wanted to know.
Except … she’d never felt desire before, at least not for a particular person. Not even Mikhail.
Her mouth was dry. She swallowed, trying to recall what it had been that they were talking about. Something along the lines of not being a bodyguard. Being his lover instead.
He was sprawled out on the couch in front of her with the kind of muscular, indolent grace reserved for lions or panthers. His shirt was open at the throat, his black hair hanging over one eye. He looked like he always did, as if he’d had one too many late nights with one too many women.
She’d always despised his utter lack of self-control and yet found it secretly fascinating at the same time. He didn’t seem to care what anyone thought of him and that held a certain curiosity to her, especially since she cared rather a lot about pleasing people.
Now, as he sat there on the couch, surely half-drunk from the vodka he’d had, something smoky and dark in his blue eyes, it wasn’t contempt or derision she felt.
He’s sexy.
She shut the thought down.
“And why do you want people thinking I’m your lover?” Her voice sounded like nothing was wrong and that was good. That was very good. Her training was good for something then.
He smiled, his mouth curving in that practiced, seductive way. “It’s very simple. I don’t want to look as though I need a bodyguard. It’s a weakness. And I can’t afford to show any kind of weakness at the gaming table. Especially not at this particular gaming table.”
Her jacket wasn’t buttoned the way she liked it and she was very conscious of how her own shirt was open at the throat. And of how his gaze seemed to keep dropping to that patch of skin left bare by the fabric. It was strange to be so aware of her body when she wasn’t anywhere near naked and for some reason it made her angry. “Why do you need me then?” she asked bluntly, forcing away the anger. “Do you need any protection?”
“It’s not as if the threat to my life has gone away just like that, darling. And I have reason to believe that this game could be somewhat … hazardous.”
“And what exactly does pretending to be your lover entail?”
His smile deepened. “You’ve seen my lovers. You know what to expect.”
Oh yes, she had seen them. Hanging off his arm, leaning in to receive kisses. Touches. Caresses. He was a physical man and didn’t seem to care who knew it.
She lifted her chin, struggling to compose herself. The thought shouldn’t affect her. At all. “Forgive me for saying, sir, but I’m not your type.”
“And what, exactly, have you observed about my type?”
“You like smaller women. More … feminine. Pretty socialites, actresses. I am not any of those things.”
“No, you’re not small, I’ll give you that.” His gaze dropped once more down her body and she was aware of a certain kind of heat flashing through her. One she hadn’t felt before because men generally didn’t look at her the way he was looking at her. “But you’re beautiful, Katya, never doubt it. Which makes you very much my type indeed.”
That heat had begun to move through her, warming her skin. Her jaw tightened. No, men didn’t look at her like that and she’d always been glad of it. Some of the girls at the military school she’d gone to had been pretty, the jewels in the crown of the Russian army, there for the recruitment posters and for the officers to gaze at. To be put in army beauty pageants and looked down on.
But she wasn’t one of those women. She still remembered the day after her mother’s funeral, when her father had caught her weeping in her bedroom. He’d told her that she wasn’t to cry because her mother had been weak, her suicide an act of supreme selfishness. And that from now on he would protect her from such things. He would make her strong. Then he’d collected up all the pretty dresses in her closet and put them in the trash, along with the dolls her mother had given her.
Femininity was a sign of weakness, of selfishness and therefore not permitted in the Ivanov house. Katya had been okay with that. Strength and purpose was infinitely preferable to the constant ache of grief and betrayal.
“Thank you, sir,” she said tonelessly. “But I’m not an actor. I’m not sure I could—”
“All you’d have to do is wear a few pretty dresses, a couple of gowns. Look like you’re madly in love with me and sit near me at the poker table. That’s it.” He shifted in another restless movement. “Oh and naturally keeping an eye out for threats to my life.”
“People are aware of who I am already. They know I’m your bodyguard.”
“Not outside of the States they don’t. And even if they read all the crap the media spouts about me and have seen pictures of you, once they get a glimpse of you in a gown they won’t be thinking bodyguard, I can guarantee you that right now. They’ll probably even think the whole bodyguard thing was only a gimmick.”
Despite her best intentions, a shard of anger spiked through her. Since coming to the States, she’d had to deal with this sort of thing a lot from men. Undervaluing her skills, underrating her.
“I’m not a gimmick,” she said.
“No, of course you’re not. But that could work to our advantage don’t you think?”
“I suppose it could,” she allowed. “And then what? After this game has ended?”
“Then I’ll give you whatever help you need to find your guy.”
Katya didn’t say anything for a long moment. It was true she would need help when it came to getting Mikhail out of wherever he was. She did have a few contacts in the army but Alex had been uncannily correct; they probably wouldn’t want to help her and risk potential discovery by the government. The General held a lot of influence and no one would willingly put themselves in his path. Even to help his daughter.
And as for the General himself, no matter that he’d been a mentor to Mikhail, his loyalty was to his government first and foremost. To his political aspirations. He’d been clear that as far as he was concerned, as far as the government was concerned, Mikhail Vasin had died on an unrelated visit to Chechnya. And that was the end to the matter.
She’d known the risks and so had Mikhail. Both of them had understood that the government couldn’t afford to acknowledge the presence of a black ops unit or else risk escalating the conflict with the state. But the chance of taking out one of the major terrorist leaders had been worth taking those risks.
Except she hadn’t realized how she’d feel when the worst happened. When Mikhail disappeared and the government denied all knowledge of him. When even her own father backed them instead of her.
She should have accepted the government stance as part of the job. But she hadn’t.
She’d lost her faith in it and her own father instead.
“It’s not brain surgery, darling,” Alex said lazily. “I would have thought the decision was pretty easy. You come with me to Monte Carlo and I’ll help you get your friend.”
Of course it was easy. It would mean another couple of weeks before she could start putting into motion any rescue plans but without money or contacts, both of which Alex had told her he could get, it would take her much, much longer anyway.
So why did the thought of going with him feel … threatening? Because in the end it was only a job. She could wear a gown. She could hang on his arm and pretend to be his lover. It wasn’t a big deal. And in return she’d take all his help and go and get Mikhail.
Why was she even hesitating?
Katya straightened her shoulders, ignored the trepidation that sat low in her gut. “Of course, sir. I’d be happy to come to Monte Carlo with you.”