To Love and Protect (2 page)

Before he could answer, the waiter returned to take their orders. Liz chose a club sandwich, knowing she could take at least half of it home for dinner, and added on a cup of soup. David picked the burger.

“So typically guy,” she said. “A burger and fries.”

“I have to get my fix while I can.”

She picked up her water glass. “Because you’ll soon be forbidden to eat red meat?”

“Because I’m heading to Europe in about—” He checked his watch. “Eleven hours.”

“You’re what?”

He lowered his voice. “I’m a spy and the government is sending me to Russia.”

“Oh, please.”

He grinned. “It’s half true. I really am going to Moscow, but not as a spy. I work for the State Department.”

“Like I’m buying that. How old are you?”

“Twenty-five. I was recruited out of college.” He held up both hands in a gesture of surrender. “I’m a low-level flunky. Trust me, they hire guys my age. Someone has to do the grunt work.”

“An overseas assignment is hardly grunt work.” She thought about her nana. “But to see Moscow…” Someday, she promised herself. Because she wanted to and because she’d told Nana she would.

“Have you been?” he asked.

“No. We talked about going, but Nana’s health was never great. Not that there was tons of money.”

“She must be very proud of you.”

“She was.” Liz reached for the bread. “She died three years ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

David’s words were a simple, expected courtesy, yet he spoke them as if he meant them. As if he understood loss.

“Thanks.” She looked at him. “So what exactly is grunt work for the State Department? I don’t guess you carry packages across the border or anything?”

“Sorry, no. But I can probably get you a decoder ring.”

She laughed. “I’d like that. Oh, and maybe some disappearing ink.”

“I’ll check the supply cabinet when I get there.”

“How long are you posted overseas?” she asked.

“It can be years. I’ll be in Moscow at least three.”

Liz felt a twinge of something low in her stomach. Regret? Maybe. She liked David more than she’d liked anyone in a long time.

“What does your family say about that?” she asked.

“I’m one of five kids, so they’re used to their children having lives. Besides, my folks are great. They want me to be happy.”

Nana would have wanted that for her, too, Liz thought fondly. Happiness and lots of babies. To her grandmother, they were forever linked. Unfortunately, Nana had only had one son and that son had only produced one child.

The waiter appeared with their meals. When he was gone, Liz picked up her soup spoon and glanced at David. “Logan, huh? As in ‘the Logans’? The rich computer company family who contribute millions to Children’s Connection?”

David sighed. “I believe it’s very important to give back.” He grinned. “At least I will when I make my fortune. For now, my folks are the generous ones.”

More than generous, she thought. She’d heard great things about the family. Based on how terrific David was, she would guess they were true.

“I assume there’s no Mrs. Logan accompanying you to Russia?” she asked.

He regarded her seriously. “Nope. Mom’s going to stay home, although she did sew my name into the collars of all my dress shirts.”

She grinned. “You know what I mean.”

“I’m not married, Liz. If I was, I wouldn’t be having lunch with you like this.”

“Good. I’m not married, either. Although there are two large ex-football players waiting for me back at the apartment.”

His mouth dropped open. “You’re kidding.”

“No, but don’t sweat it. They’re just roommates.”

“Why do I know that’s a line?”

“I have no idea. I’m telling the truth. They only have eyes for each other.”

After a lengthy lunch they tussled over the bill.

“It’s on me,” Liz said as she reached for the slip of paper David held. “It’s in exchange for you modeling for me. I’m putting it on my expense account, I swear.”

David shook his head. “It’s my treat. I don’t have lunch with a beautiful woman all that often.”

He was so lying, she thought humorously.

“I’m on to you,” she said as he handed the waiter his credit card. “You act all gentle and charming, but the truth is you’re a serious player in the man-woman game. You know all the moves and I doubt you ever spend a night home alone, except by choice.”

He winced. “That’s unfair.”

“But is it wrong?”

He looked at her and smiled. “What about you, Red?” He fingered the fringe on the brown suede jacket she’d just put on. “You play the starving artist, but with really great accessories. I’m going to guess that guys fall all over themselves to stare into those big green eyes of yours.” He lowered his voice. “Tell me that you’ve never done a quick sketch just to impress a potential conquest.”

“Not since high school,” she protested.

“Any nights alone except by choice?”

She considered the question. “Not really.”

“So you’re a player, too.”

“Okay. Sometimes. Guys are easy.”

“Yeah, and nobody gets close.”

She stared at him. How did he know that? Keeping men at arm’s length was something she did well, and she couldn’t always say why. Sometimes she wondered if she didn’t want to fall in love or if she was just afraid of feeling too much.

The waiter returned with the credit card and the receipt. David signed it and pocketed his copy. As he put away his card, he studied her.

“I have eight hours until I have to head for the airport. Want to keep me company for the rest of my last day on American soil?”

She had a thousand things she should be doing and right this second she couldn’t think of even one.

“Sure, but what about your family? Don’t you have to do the goodbye thing?”

“Did it last night. There was a big party.” He rose and held out his hand. “Wish you could have been there.”

“Me, too.”

She stood and tucked her hand in his. His fingers laced with hers.

Liz felt the heat sizzle between them. Her chest tightened, and there was a definite tingle rippling through her thighs. Talk about lousy timing.

They walked along the river until a cold wind forced them indoors, then they settled next to each other in the corner booth of a coffeehouse. The hours slipped by and they couldn’t seem to stop talking.

“Everyone tried to talk me out of pursuing this as a career,” Liz said with a shrug. “Except Nana, but she believed I could do anything. If I hadn’t won the grant right before graduating, I don’t know that I would have had the courage to make a go of my art.”

She laughed. “Art. That sounds so pretentious. It makes me feel that I should be wearing a black turtleneck and talking about the blindness of the masses. Then I remember
I’m
part of the masses.”

David rubbed his thumb across her knuckles. Her skin was smooth and pale. No freckles, no flaws at all. She had small hands with slender fingers. Sensibly short nails, he thought. No flashy polish, no rings. The plainness of her hands was at odds with the dangling earrings and charm-bracelet watch.

But he liked that the same way he liked her quick smile and easy laughter. He turned her hand over and traced the lines there.

“Which one is the life line?” he asked.

“I have no idea. I hope it’s the really long one. I have a lot of things on my to-do list and I need time.”

“You’ll make it,” he said with a confidence he couldn’t explain.

“Can I have that in writing?”

“Sure.”

He stared into her eyes. There were a thousand shades of green in her irises. Even more variations on red, gold and auburn in her hair. With his other hand, he reached up and tucked a loose strand behind her ear. He let his fingers linger, and her breath caught.

“David, this is crazy.”

“Tell me about it.”

He had to be at the airport by nine. He was already packed, with his luggage in the trunk of his rental car, but instead of thinking about his job and the opportunity he’d been offered, all he could wonder was how he and Liz could be alone together for more than the next couple of hours.

“Tell me more about your family,” she said. “What was it like growing up with a twin sister?”

“You really want to talk about that?” he asked.

Her mouth parted. “We have to talk about something.”

“Why?”

“Because if we don’t—”

Instead of waiting to hear what would happen if they didn’t, he kissed her. A handful of customers filled the coffeehouse. Several college students were having a heated debate on the economy, and an old man sat by himself reading the paper. David didn’t care about any of them. Right now there was only this moment, this woman and how her mouth felt against his.

She was soft and warm, melting into him as her lips returned the soft, chaste kiss he’d offered. Heat flared, as did desire.

She smelled like flowers, clean skin, sunshine and something that could only be Liz herself. Her fingers clung to his where they held hands. Her free arm wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer.

He released her hand and pulled her hard against him. Sitting next to her, he knew, it would be difficult to touch her everywhere, but he wanted to try. He wanted to feel her breasts pressing against his chest and know the weight of her body on top of his. Need filled him, making him ache. He was hard and ready, and damn it all to hell if he didn’t have a plane to catch.

“This is crazy,” Liz whispered when he pulled back. “We just met.”

He was pleased to see that her eyes were dilated and her breathing just as fast as his own.

“Some things don’t take very long,” he said. “When they happen fast, they’re usually right.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I’ve never reacted this way. Have you?”

He brushed his mouth against hers. “No. Not even close.”

She shivered. “Hold me. Hold me for as much time as we have left. Please.”

He tugged her close and draped his arm around her shoulders. They talked some, kissed some and mostly watched time slip away. At a little past eight, they walked out to the parking lot and got in his rental car. He headed back to the Children’s Connection parking lot where they’d left her car.

Liz couldn’t believe how sad she felt. She’d only known David a few hours, but it seemed more like a lifetime. The thought of him going away, of never seeing him again, broke her heart.

When he pulled up beside her aging sedan, she turned to him. “Do you really have to go?” she asked softly.

He put the car in Park and faced her. “It’s my job, Liz. I’ve been working for this assignment since the day they hired me.”

She ducked her head. “I know. That was silly. If anyone understands giving it all for a career, it’s me. But I just…”

“Me, too.” He touched her chin, raising her head so she looked at him. “I can’t decide if we should stay in touch or make a clean break.”

“I don’t know, either.”

Her chest tightened until it was difficult to breathe. She wanted him—not just sexually, but in so many other ways. She wanted to learn everything about him. She wanted to meet his family and talk about goals and have dates and fights and make memories. If it wasn’t completely crazy, she would swear she’d fallen for him.

“Take me with you,” she said impulsively. “To Russia.”

He cupped her jaw. “You don’t know how that tempts me, Liz. We could keep each other warm through the long winter.”

It could work, she thought frantically. As a freelance illustrator, she didn’t have to punch a time clock. “I could work from there and send my drawings back to my clients,” she told him. “It would take me a couple of days to wrap things up here but I could—”

He silenced her with a kiss. The sweet pressure of his mouth told her his answer even as she struggled not to believe him. Her eyes began to burn.

“I know, it’s crazy,” she whispered.

“But a great dream.”

A dream. That was what this was. A beautiful, perfect dream that could never be real. Take off for Russia? For a guy? Never. Not that David wasn’t great, but what did she know about him?

Torn between what was sensible and what her heart cried out to claim, Liz opened the passenger door and forced herself to slide out into the night.

“Thank you for a terrific afternoon, David Logan,” she said as she fought tears. “I don’t think it could get better than this. We should probably keep the memory intact and not try to repeat it.”

He nodded. “You’re right. But if you ever find yourself in Moscow…”

“I’ll look you up. And when you’re back in Portland, you do the same.”

“Right.”

She stared at him, at his face, his eyes. She
was
making the right decision. They both were.

“You’re not the one who got away,” she said firmly.

“Neither are you.”

As she closed the car door, she knew they were both lying.

Nearly five years later

D
avid Logan generally avoided recreational social events at the embassy. His work required more than enough cocktail parties at which he either had to keep his eye on someone dangerous or extract information without the person in question knowing. He no longer found the endless chatter relaxing or fun. Give him a good covert kidnapping or prisoner extraction any day.

But tonight was different. Even though it was his day off, he found himself nodding politely to people he’d seen at events like this a dozen times before and making inane conversation with spouses of staff members. Even as he explained a point of baseball to a security operative from the British embassy, he kept his eye on the circulating crowd. Nearly thirty American tourists had been invited to the evening’s festivities, including one Elizabeth Duncan from Portland, Oregon.

Liz had finally made it to Russia.

He knew her visit had nothing to do with him—they hadn’t been in contact since they’d parted company the evening he’d flown to Moscow. Still, he’d come to the party with the hope of catching a glimpse of her. Maybe more than a glimpse. He wanted to look at her, talk to her, find out what was different and what was the same.

Funny how after all this time he could remember everything about their time together. While he wasn’t willing to admit she was the one who got away, he would claim a certain interest. He’d never forgotten her. Would she be able to say the same about him?

He concluded his conversation with the British security operative and made his way to the bar. As he crossed the large, crowded room, he glanced toward the entrance and saw a group of Americans standing there.

They wore their nationality as easily as their formal clothing, something that would surprise most of them. His time in Russia had taught David to size up a person in a matter of seconds, and he recognized the well-dressed, well-fed posture of relatively successful Westerners. A few were in Moscow as tourists, some had come to adopt children, and a couple were here for work.

The crowd parted, allowing him a view of a beautiful redhead in a black gown. He wasn’t close enough to see the color of her eyes, but he remembered. A vivid green. He also recalled her curiosity, her humor and her drive.

“Champagne,” he said to the bartender. “Two.”

After collecting the glasses, he made his way through the crowd.

Liz stood talking to a couple in their late thirties. She’d piled her hair on top of her head, which left her neck bare to view. David wanted to move close enough to brush that pale skin with a kiss. Okay, maybe he wanted to do a lot more than that. The slender straps holding up the dress offered possibilities.

“Down, boy,” he murmured to himself as he made his way closer. He was acting as if he hadn’t been with a woman since he and Liz had parted, but that wasn’t true. There had been plenty. Still, none of them had been her.

“Liz?”

He spoke her name quietly. She had her back to him and when she heard the single word she stilled, then slowly turned.

The action gave him a view of her profile first, then her whole face. Humor and surprise and excitement danced in her large green eyes. Her full lips curved up in a smile that both welcomed and beckoned. Heat sizzled, then arced between them.

“David Logan,” she said, her voice exactly as he remembered. “I’d wondered if you were still haunting the halls of the Moscow state department.”

She’d thought of him. The news pleased him more than it should have.

He handed her a glass of champagne. “Here I am,” he told her. “Welcome to Moscow.”

She touched her glass to his and sipped. “Thank you,” she said. “Oh, let me introduce you to—”

She glanced over her shoulder and saw the couple she’d been talking to had discreetly faded into the party. Liz turned back to him.

“I guess I’ll do the introduction thing later.”

“If you’d like.”

He didn’t care if he never talked to anyone else. Liz was the one who interested him.

“It’s been a long time,” he said.

“Nearly five years.” She smiled. “Hmm, maybe I shouldn’t have admitted to knowing the amount of time. Does that sound like I was pining?”

“No. Were you?”

Her smile widened. “Not all the time. And you?”

“When I saw your name on the guest list, I knew I had to come by and see you again.”

“Here I am.”

He glanced at the elegant dress that skimmed her gorgeous curves before settling just above her ankles. Her large, dangling silver earrings had been replaced with gold-and-diamond studs. He recognized the brand of her watch and the air of confidence around her.

“You’ve become successful,” he said.

“Within my little world, yes. Do the paparazzi follow me around? Not exactly.”

“Do you want them to?”

She laughed. “Of course not. I’m simply pointing out that success is relative. I’ve won a few awards, pleased some well-placed clients, moved up the food chain.”

“Good. Still living with the football players?”

“No. It’s just me now, which is really better. When those two fought, they were impossible.”

She wasn’t married. David told himself the information shouldn’t have mattered, but he liked knowing it.

“What about you?” she asked. “How’s the spy business?”

“I’ve been working on improving invisible ink.”

“How’s that going?”

“Great. Only my work keeps disappearing.”

“That could be a problem.”

David sounded the same, Liz thought happily. Still charming, still easy to be with, but he looked different. Harder, leaner, more dangerous. His dark eyes contained secrets. He might joke about invisible ink but she suspected the truth about his job would make her shiver with fear.

He touched her arm and she felt the warm contact all the way to her toes.

“What are you thinking?” he asked. “You just got serious.”

She clutched her champagne glass and forced herself to relax. “You. When I was planning my trip, I wondered if you would be here. I thought about looking you up but…” She shrugged. “It was only one afternoon.”

He stared deeply into her eyes. “It was a hell of a lot more than that.”

Her stomach clenched slightly. It had been more for her, too.

“Sometimes I thought I’d imagined it all,” she admitted. “That we hadn’t really connected that way so quickly.”

“It was all real.”

He moved a little closer. Close enough that breathing didn’t seem all that necessary. Close enough to make her grateful that her dress slipped on and off so easily. Close enough that she thought about kissing him and touching him and having him touch her back. She thought about the large embassy and the empty rooms and how they could—

Liz consciously cleared her head and sucked in a breath. Time to regroup.

“So,” she said, striving for a cheerful tone, “how’s Mrs. Logan?”

He chuckled. “My mother is fine. Busy with her charity work. I’ll be sure to tell her you were asking. She was just here a few weeks ago. My parents visit a couple of times of year. It was cold and rainy for their visit, but you’ve come at a good time.”

Moscow weather seemed like a safe topic. “I’m glad. I’m hoping to have time to see a few things while I’m here.”

“Looking for a tour guide?”

“Maybe. Do you know someone?”

“A great guy.”

David was only a few inches taller than she, yet he seemed so much larger. And safe. She liked the combination of erotic arousal and comfort she felt standing next to him.

“Does he speak both English and Russian?” she asked.

“Oh, yeah. He’s also passable in German but he could dazzle you in French.”

“I’m not easily dazzled.”

“He’s up to the task.”

“Is he?”

“I promise.”

They were talking about more than just a tour of the city, she thought with a combination of excitement and trepidation. “Maybe you could give me his number.”

“I thought I’d introduce you myself. That would make it more personal. How much time will you have to see the sights?”

Liz took another sip of her champagne and realized David had no idea why she was in Moscow. Would the information change things? Silly question. Of course it would.

“I have a couple of days until things get complicated,” she said. “I’m not here on vacation. I’m with the Children’s Connection group. I’m adopting a baby girl.”

David’s expression didn’t change, nor did his body language, which told her she would never want to play poker against the man.

“Weren’t you working with them when we first met?” he asked.

“Yes. I did the artwork for their brochure.”

“And now you’re adopting a baby through them. My family is a big supporter of what they do. That’s why my parents were here. Well, to visit me, too.”

“How ironic we met last time because of Children’s Connection and here we are again, because of them,” she said.

“Remind me to send a thank-you note.”

She still couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He was so cool, she thought. Didn’t he have questions for her?

“Do you want to comment on my decision to adopt?” she asked.

He continued to study her face. “It’s an interesting choice for a single woman,” he said.

“Agreed.” She shrugged. “There are a lot of reasons. I’m successful and I can afford to take care of a baby. My work schedule is flexible—another plus.”

“Most women prefer to wait for home and husband.”

“True enough. I have the home, but I’m not interested in waiting for the husband.”

Getting married would mean falling in love and Liz wasn’t a fan of the process. In her world, romantic love cost too much and she wasn’t willing to pay.

“At the risk of discussing something too personal, why don’t you have a child of your own?” he asked.

“I’m sure you don’t remember, but I was raised by my grandmother.”

“Of course. Your nana.” He raised his eyebrows. “She was Russian.”

“I’m impressed you remembered.” More than impressed. Intrigued.

“It’s the spy training. I never forget a detail.”

Despite their relatively serious conversation, Liz smiled. “You’re still good-looking and charming. I can’t believe someone hasn’t snatched you up.”

“Maybe I haven’t been available.”

“Their loss.”

She meant it. She might not be interested in happily-ever-after, but that didn’t make her any less appreciative of David’s appeal.

He finished his glass of champagne. “Your grandmother was adopted,” he said.

“Right. After the Second World War. She was brought back to the States. She and I used to talk about her life before—how hard things were. Maybe the seed was planted there. When I did the brochure for Children’s Connection, I learned about their international adoptions. At the time it wasn’t practical, but eventually I realized it was something I wanted to do.”

He put his hand on the small of her back and guided her to a small sofa in an alcove by a large window. When she was seated, he sat next to her, angling his body toward hers.

“Was the process difficult?” he asked.

He was sitting close enough to interfere with her mental process. She had to consciously focus on the topic to form actual sentences.

“There’s plenty of paperwork. I had to go through a home study and get all kinds of approvals and documents. I had an initial visit to meet Natasha—that’s the baby’s name. That was about a month ago. I was only here for a couple of days. I thought about trying to find you but…”

“There was a lot going on,” he said, brushing his fingers across the back of her hand.

“Right.”

The full days hadn’t been the only reason, she admitted to herself. She’d been cautious. It had taken a ridiculous amount of time to get over David five years ago. She hadn’t wanted the distraction of trying to deal with him now.

But sitting next to him—aware of his heat, the scent of his body and the rapid beating of her own heart—she knew that she’d mostly been afraid and with good reason. The man turned her head.

“I had plenty of doubts about the adoption process and what I was doing,” she admitted. “Was I crazy to fly halfway around the world to adopt a child? But then I held Natasha in my arms and I knew she was exactly what I’d been waiting for all my life.”

“Sounds special.”

“It was. Now I’m here for the second and final visit. Depending on how the process goes, I’ll be in Moscow for anywhere from several days to several weeks. Then I’ll bring her home with me.”

“When does this all start?” he asked.

“I’ll go to the orphanage the day after tomorrow. Until then I’m free.”

He brushed his thumb across the back of her hand. “Is that an invitation?”

She wanted it to be. “Are you interested?”

His slow, sexy smile made her grateful she was sitting and didn’t have to worry about mundane things like staying upright and balancing herself.

“Absolutely.”

The next day David left his office shortly after ten in the morning. He’d gone in to handle a few pressing problems, then had taken the rest of the day off to show Liz around Moscow.

She was trouble, he acknowledged as he took the stairs to the underground garage. Beautiful, seductive and not for the likes of him. Still, wanting and not having was a unique experience—one he was willing to endure for now.

She’d shown up unexpectedly and the surprises kept on coming. Adopting a child on her own would mean a big change. Five years ago she’d been focused on her career. Apparently that was no longer the case.

They were both different, he thought as he slid into his green Fiat and started the engine. He knew the past five years had changed him in ways he would never talk about. There were still dark places in the Russian Federation and he’d been to most of them.

The drive to the hotel took less than twenty minutes. The five-story building stood on a narrow street, butting up against an apartment block and a private school. David parked, then surveyed the neighborhood. Not elegant, but safe.

The lobby had seen better days. Once beautiful Oriental carpeting had faded until the pattern was little more than a shadow. The carved molding was cracked in several places, but the crystal in the chandelier was authentic and original. The clerk behind the registration desk noted David’s arrival but said nothing to him as he took the stairs to the third floor and knocked on Liz’s door. She answered at once, pulling back the door and smiling at him.