Her Russian Hero (International Romance Series) (5 page)

Two partners? Did he think her
naїve enough to trust his sudden acceptance? “I’m glad to hear you say
that.” She plastered a smile on her lips. Would she ever be able to relax in
his presence?

He flattened his palm on the arm
of the sofa and leaned forward, robbing her of breathing space. His clean
masculine smell and a hint of the Old Spice he seemed to favor enveloped her
and she remembered the feel of being held in his arms. Unease tightened her
chest.

Suddenly grave, his gaze focused
on her eyes. “Dr. Lornier, we need to discuss the terms of the contract.”

Cecile sobered. Immediately on
the alert, she scooted against the back of her seat to maintain a poised
attitude. “What is there to discuss?”

She watched him uncoil to his
full, daunting height, towering above her. “Minsk is only two hundred and ten
miles from Chernobyl. We can’t wait forever for an environmental cleanup.” He
opened a cabinet.

She tightened her knuckles around
the arms of her chair while he pulled out a map and unfolded it. “I know my
geography, General. The refurbishment of the Belchem Lab is the first step
toward the cleanup.”

“Only the first step. How long
are we going to wait for a second step? How many people have to die in the
meantime?” He crumpled the map into a ball and hurled it into a wastebasket. A
different man stood before her. Impassioned, intense, his eyes blazing with
anger.

A shiver traced its way down her
spine as she cast a worried glance at the wastebasket. “I sympathize, believe
me. But there is nothing I can do. My job is to bring analytical equipment to
the lab and train the chemists. And you agreed to it. Actually, you suggested
starting with the lab installation,” she reminded him.

“Dr. Lornier, I was a desperate
man. I grabbed whatever was offered to me by your Department of Defense, the
DOD, as you call it. I hurried to sign a contract before they changed their
minds. Now the contract is in your hands. Help me save Belarus’ citizens.”

“I’ll do my best to set up the
lab as fast as possible.”

“You can do the analysis a lot
faster in Boston. Forget the terms of this contract. I need to change them. I
need you to order the cleanup equipment.”

Forget the contract
. He
was the third man to tell her to forget her contract. The noble general who had
held her in his arms at the airport was no better than Rob or Colonel Roussov.
Disappointment sliced through her heart. This project was her future.

She took a deep breath, digging
for patience. “General Fedorin, I’ve staked my entire reputation on getting
this project up and running.”

“All I ask is to modify the
requirements.”

“The cleanup is not my
specialty.” She suppressed a hiss.

His eyes narrowed on hers. So
blue but so dark. “Your corporation handles the cleanup.”

Her fists clenched in her lap and
she prayed not to lose her temper—and not to give in to the zealous urging of
his impassionate voice.

“They must employ someone
specializing in hazardous cleanup to coordinate my new requirements.” The
general raised his arms in an exasperated gesture.

Cecile sucked in her breath.
Actually, there was someone. None other than Rob Spenser. She felt the blood
drain from her face. She’d be damned if she’d bring Rob’s name into her
contract. “The contract has been signed and approved by the DOD.”

“But there should be a way to
modify it.”

“No.” She stared at the rugged
profile. God, was he always so persistent? So determined to get what he wanted?

“A petition, perhaps?” He faced
her again. His eyebrow arched in challenge. “Written by you and Mr. Gordon?”

A petition? Officials in
Washington and in her corporate office would snort and assume she’d got cold
feet as soon as she’d appraised the actual task. She’d lose face and compromise
her career—a career Rob had done his best to try to shatter.

“It’s too early in the project to
request a modification.” Lacing her fingers together, she fought a wave of
frustration. “Amendments to a contract can be done. But later on, as the work
progresses.” With a ten-year experience in government contracts, she knew the
regulations inside out.

“I understand, Dr. Lornier, however,
I must insist on your help. For my country, for the thousands who died and
those who will soon be affected.”

A shiver rippled through her at
the desperate note in his voice. The mighty Major General, the hero of Belarus,
was almost begging her. His eyes glimmered with such intensity, such fervor she
winced.

How could she have ever compared
him to Rob? She swallowed hard. An uneasy feeling lumped in her throat. He was
bargaining with dignity on behalf of his compatriots while she only thought of
herself, her position and her career. She bit her lip, trailing her eyes on the
chiseled nose and hard jaw. The staunch officer stood proud—even when pleading.

She wanted to reach and touch his
hand and swear she’d help him. “I’ll send your samples to be analyzed in
Boston.”

“Thank you. What about the
amendment? Once the project is underway will you, please, think about it?”

But she had it wrong. General
Fedorin was not begging or asking. He was demanding and expecting his demands
to be met.

Her gut twisted at the nauseating
thought of handing her project to Rob, or even calling him. After all she’d
been through to keep her foreign assignment, after the rotten way the
sleazeball had treated her. She took a steadying breath. “I’ll give it serious
consideration. We’ll work on a petition, as soon as this project is underway.”

If the general could only trust
her to set up the lab efficiently.

Later on, when she succeeded,
she’d be in a bargaining position to claim special favors for Belarus and its
citizens, without dealing with Rob and humiliating herself.

Could they afford to wait so
long?

Chapter Four

Sergei Fedorin reached for the
vodka. “Your glass is still full.”

Cecile shook her head. “I’ve had
more than enough for my first experience.”

A prim young woman but a tough
cookie as they said in her country. Her stiffness surprised him. “Cecile... I
hope you don’t mind me calling you by your first name?”

“Please do.”

He wanted her to loosen up, to
reveal her real self. “Well, Cecile, I am glad the contract brought us a
beautiful, intelligent woman to work on the project.”

“Thank you, General. As the
Program Manager, I’ll do my best on this project. You won’t be disappointed.”

She seemed so dedicated to her
career, as if nothing else counted in her life. What a shame. What a waste of
such a lovely woman.

“Is something wrong, General?”
She shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to
stare.” Yet he didn’t avert his gaze. She had unique eyes that changed from
green to hazel with the intensity of the light. Beautiful. And that little
mouth she so often pursed. He wouldn’t mind tasting it. He suppressed a smile.
“Please, call me Sergei.”

Her calm assertiveness seemed to
fade.

“One more toast.” He handed her a
glass of vodka. “To you, Cecile.”

She took a sip and immediately
straightened up. “I must leave now.”

He could swear he glimpsed worry
as she glanced at the door furtively. Where was her assertive bravado of a
moment ago?

Cecile Lornier seemed more at
ease discussing business with opponents than receiving a casual compliment from
an admirer. He traced the delicate oval of her face with a tender gaze and
lingered over the full lips pressed into a determined line.

How would she behave in a man’s
arms? In his arms?

As a high-ranking officer, he’d
never lacked female companionship. With so many local beauties competing to
hang on his arm and warm his bed, he had trouble understanding why he’d be
intrigued by this brainy scientist with a do-not-touch warning sign written all
over her dainty figure. He wanted to know her better. If only for the sake of
his project.

Sergei reached for the phone and
dialed a number. “Nicolai,
moy drouk
, we are ready.”

He draped her raincoat over her
shoulders, squeezing ever so lightly, and he stifled a grin as he felt her tiny
shudder. There was more to this ice queen than she wanted to reveal.

Satisfied with his discovery,
Sergei grabbed his leather jacket and escorted her out to the building
esplanade. Nicolai waited for them, leaning against the bumper of the military
Jeep. Sergei helped her into the backseat and settled next to her while Nicolai
slid in beside the driver.

During the ten-minute drive to
the Belchem Laboratory, Sergei indicated the landmarks they passed. “The
Victory Monument was built under Stalin to commemorate the end of World War II.
In front of it, you can see the Unknown Soldier’s Flame. We hold a celebration
here in May, on National Day, the equivalent of your Fourth of July.” He
considered himself an inherent part of his country. It would help their
business relationship—and any other—if she could understand his patriotism. But
would she ever be able to?

“Do you live in the city or in
the suburbs, in a house?”

“A house?” He chuckled at the
typically American question. “Only our President and Vice-President can afford
a house. Everyone else rents a flat in one of those buildings.” He gestured to
the row of identical ten-story edifices lining the streets like matchboxes and
then he turned his head to face her. “Actually, I work, sleep, and almost live
in my office at the Ministry of Defense.”

Cecile gasped. “You sleep in your
office every night? I’m a workaholic myself but not to that extent.”

How could he make her see the
difference between being a workaholic and being dedicated to his country?

The Jeep slowed and stopped.
“This is the Belchem Lab?” Cecile choked on her words, as she slid out of the
car.

The old building loomed, dismal
and shabby, with broken windows, collapsed roof and dilapidated front stairs
with missing steps. The military laboratory had obviously not been maintained
for years. A musty smell assailed her as the two officers led her along a dark
corridor to the laboratory director’ office.   

John was already there, waiting
with Dr. Kadelov.

“Welcome to Belchem, Dr.
Lornier.” The director shook hands with her. “
Generalle
, we can take a
tour of the laboratories right away.”

With the general and colonel at
her side, and Dr. Kadelov trailing behind them, Cecile paced through the rooms.
She noticed hoods, old and rusty, benches cluttered with paper rather than
glassware, desks piled with Russian novels. But no chemistry notebooks. She
frowned, surveying the usual laboratory furnishings, the refrigerators, ovens,
autoclave and balances. It was all there but strangely incompatible and not
used in the way she would expect.

Something was amiss in this lab.
During the first minutes of the tour, the vague thought lingered in Cecile’s
mind. “This place doesn’t smell like a lab.” She sniffed and raised questioning
eyebrows. “No solvents, no acids?” They probably hadn’t done any work in years.

Dr. Kadelov beamed. “Of course
not. The Belchem technicians cleaned the lab for this important visit.”

Cecile shook her head in dismay.
With disgust, she tapped her pen against a sandwich half-folded in a napkin.
From the same bench, she picked up a can of beer filled with cigarette butts.
“You allow them to drink and smoke here?” she asked Kadelov in a controlled
voice.

He shrugged. “It is too cold to
stand outside.”

A refrigerator with a yellow
Radioactive Material label attracted Cecile’s attention. She opened it and
noticed the chemical reagents arranged in alphabetical order on the first shelf
and... a bottle of vodka on the second one.

“Good God.” She pointed at the
bottle and asked with a frosty tone, “What is this doing here?”

“The vodka tastes better cold.
Actually, we should store it in a freezer,” said one of the chemists. “We are
eagerly waiting to receive one through your contract.” The young man smiled at
Cecile, but she appraised him with a stern look before scribbling on her
notepad.

“This is not a joking matter.
These chemists are totally ignoring basic rules of health and safety.”

The young man lost his grin and
the other chemists watched her with awry looks.

“Dr. Lornier, this is the lab you
will refurbish.” The general waved his hand toward the room. “And these are the
scientists you will train.” He leveled a dubious look at her.

Was he wondering if the task
already scared her? She took a deep breath. “We have a lot of work ahead of
us.”

His eyes steeled. “Changing this
place into an efficient lab will take too long.” He turned toward John. “Can
you assign someone to help Dr. Lornier? It’s way too difficult for a woman, I
mean for anyone not knowing our customs, to do it alone.”

Cecile slapped her hands on a
bench. “This project is not impossible, General. For heaven’s sake, I’ve been
chosen for this task. Can’t you trust me and let me do my job?” She glared at
John, daring him to approve the general’s request.

John shrugged, noncommittal as
usual. He was here to audit, not to help or interfere.

Good, she’d fight her own battle,
if it ever proved necessary to battle for her mission and her future. She spun around.
Her back stiff, she marched out of the laboratory. They followed her in
complete silence.

At the front door, John’s booming
voice broke the awkward mood. “Hey, Nicolai, one question before we go. Can you
recommend a good restaurant where we can eat tonight?”

Was it John’s attempt to mend the
breach he felt opening between her and the general? Cecile paused beside him,
struggling to suppress her frustration.