Too Proud to be Bought. Sharon Kendrick

sorry, but it’s very late—and I’m tired.’

      Nikolai felt the sharp spear of disappointment. Saw from the look on her face that she meant it—and he bit back his frustration. Of course she was playing games, probably in the mistaken belief that her refusal would make him think more highly of her. His mouth hardened. Did he have the time or the inclination to go through the necessary number of dates which she decreed obligatory before she let him take her to bed? Was she, he asked himself brutally, worth it?

      His eyes drank in the wide green eyes, the flushed cheeks and the kiss-bruised lips and he felt a pulse begin to flicker at his temple. Yes, she was worth it—for novelty value as well as her curiously fresh-faced appeal. Because when was the last time a woman had actually turned him down?

      ‘Well, I think that’s a pity,’ he said softly, reaching for his jacket pocket. But before Nikolai could extract one of the business cards he kept there he saw that she was pushing open the car door and swinging her shapely legs out and his brows knitted together in disbelief.

      ‘Where the hell do you think you’re going?’

      ‘Home.’

      ‘I told you that my driver would take you wherever you wanted to go.’

      Zara shook her head. ‘And I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want a lift, thank you.’

      ‘You don’t?’ His eyes narrowed incredulously. ‘Why not?’

      Zara shook her head as she tried to calm her frantic thoughts. Before she had been ashamed and worried that he might judge her humble little home if he saw it, but now it was much more than that. There was still shame, yes—but the overriding sense of shame was directed at her own appalling behaviour. She had behaved wantonly with a man she barely knew, displaying a fierce sexual hunger which was slightly terrifying. And Nikolai Komarov was the man who had made her feel that way. She didn’t want another thing from him—and she certainly didn’t want his driver reporting back where she lived.

      Why not? questioned a rogue voice inside her head. Are you afraid that if he turned up unexpectedly on your doorstep, you might not be able to turn him away?

      ‘I think we both know why,’ she said quietly. ‘We hardly know one another and we’ve just behaved in a way which was very…inappropriate.’ She gazed into the ice-blue eyes and steeled herself against their sensual impact. ‘And in view of that I think it’s probably better if I make my own way home. It was nice to have met you…Nikolai.’

      Stepping onto the pavement and taking a moment to steady herself on her high heels, Zara tugged down the silk-satin of her crumpled dress and turned to dart through a gate which led straight into the park, determined that this time he should not follow her.

      For a moment Nikolai didn’t move, frustration warring with admiration at her unexpected display of independence and feistiness and, yes, downright prudishness. She had walked away without taking his details and she had left him wanting more. She had walked away. He felt the drumming acceleration of his heart and the hot rush of blood to his groin. Now his hunter instincts were screaming to be satisfied and he slid his cell-phone from the pocket of his jacket and dialled up one of his aides.

      Speaking rapidly in Russian, he clipped out the facts.

      ‘Her name is Zara Evans,’ he said, tasting her name as if her lips were still open beneath his, fingers of his free hand tapping impatiently against one hard, tense thigh. ‘No, no—I don’t know where she lives. In fact, I don’t know a damned thing about her.’ Except that he wanted her with a hunger he hadn’t felt in a long time. A speculative smile curved the edges of his mouth as he stared up at the leather ceiling of the car. ‘Just find her.’