Instinctive Male (10 page)

Mikhail pushed up the rocky trail on Strawberry Hill. In late afternoon, the wind had kicked up, dark clouds forming
on the horizon, as if Chief Kamakani was gathering his powers—and Ellie was missing. Norm, the head groundskeeper, had said that she had asked the way to Strawberry Hill and Kamakani’s gravesite.

With a storm brewing, the clouds skimming shadows over the water, Ellie could be pushed off the cliff by a gust of upward wind, knocked flat and hit her head on a stone…. Mikhail pushed away his fears, and hurried upward, stumbling once and cutting his hand on a sharp rock.

The wind caught the swaying tops of the pines and hissed through them. Breathing hard, Mikhail reached the summit. The wind flattened Ellie’s jacket to her, sending her hair out in a storm of gleaming silk. She stood braced against the force, her head lifted, as though she welcomed the wind, embraced it.

A cold shaft of fear shot through Mikhail. More than one woman had obsessed about the chieftain, including Jarek’s first wife.

Ellie turned to him and his heart leaped, beating furiously. “What are you doing here?”

“Thinking. Why don’t you want me?”

Why don’t you want me?
The question pounded at him, and a gust of wind sailed against them, carrying her scent to him—erotic, fresh, feminine….

“Want you?” he asked grimly, before tugging her to him and holding her safe within his arms. A seagull swept too close, driven by the wind, as though the chieftain were threatening—

She pushed at him, her hair flying around her face. “I’m not her, Mikhail. I’m me.”

“And I’m not your father—he rejected you, didn’t he? Don’t apply that to me.”

A toss of her head threw her hair into the wind, pulled back from her face, those dark thunderstorm eyes flashing at him. “Prove it.”

She always right there, edgy and pushing and fascinating
and wild and woman, stirring his senses, making him react in the most primitive ways. “I wanted to give you time to rest, to adjust. Most of the time, you look like you haven’t slept. And I don’t want your gratitude or payback. Let’s keep this clean, shall we? Apart from the situation with Tanya’s safety.”

“Always so logical,” she murmured, and pushed away again, freeing herself. She began to run across the fields that would be lush with strawberries, and Mikhail found himself in pursuit, his senses pounding to catch her, to hold her, to feel her close and warm and alive against him.

She turned to glance at him over her shoulder, and it wasn’t fear he read in her expression. It was excitement and flirtation, a woman beckoning to a man. Who was the hunter and who was the prey? he wondered just that once before catching her and lifting her high in his arms.

Ellie laughed then, her hair flying around her face, her cheeks pink and her eyes soft and glowing upon him. She was his enchantress, and inside him, the tempo rose—he was a man needing to claim the woman haunting him.

He could feel the music inside him, wild and passionate, and hungry, so hungry, storming in his blood, the heat rushing around them, man and woman.

Her arms around his neck, she watched him as he carried her to a flat rock, still bearing the warmth of the sun, laying her gently down, to cover her with his body. “Why did you run from me?” he asked.

“Maybe I was running from myself,” Ellie replied. “From this. There are parts of myself I’ve always kept to myself, and you’re too thorough. You see too much.”

“I want to see more.”

Ellie reveled in Mikhail’s weight, in the way his thumbs stroked her temples as they stared at each other. She could feel the passion in him, the heat and the desire, the powerful emotions and body held in check as he watched her. But
there was tenderness there, too, lurking in his smile. “Happy?” he asked.

She squirmed a little beneath him, enjoying the sturdy feel of his body, the strength and warmth of it over her own, though she knew he braced his full weight away. Mikhail was a protective, thoughtful man. “You’re so easy.”

His eyebrow hitched up, mocking her. “Easy, am I?”

She stroked that eyebrow with her fingertip. “Terribly easy. I could have you, if I wanted you.”

His kiss was slow, deep and thorough, leaving her body pounding hungrily. “Could you?” he asked in a husky drawl.

Ellie smoothed his hair, toying with it, and traced the sharp slash of his cheekbones. He toyed with her earlobe, smoothing it. “No earrings? I remember diamonds.”

“Sold them. They were part of the picture Paul wanted. It didn’t hurt a bit.” Her breath hitched as Mikhail’s teeth prowled her lobe, his unsteady breath sweeping across her skin as his hands moved lower, stroking her waist, the denim covering her hips.

He turned, lying beneath her, and she dived into him, feasted on his skin, his scent, his mouth, her hands fisting his hair. She wanted to mark Mikhail as hers, to tear away the pain of another woman.

“Little savage,” he whispered rawly as she nipped his bottom lip and then licked it.

“Look who’s talking.” She couldn’t help moving against him, the pressure building between them until the air sparked and churned and heated. Mikhail’s face was shadowed, dark and closed, holding away from her what she would have, his eyes slitted, looking up at her.

She was half in love with him now, she realized, as somewhere off in the distance the wind howled and cold rain began to slash at them. Had they always been moving toward this time, this reckoning, as she’d slashed at him and he’d grimly refused to enter her game?

It wasn’t a game now. It was raw and quivering, tender and hungry, because they’d tasted each other and knew….

Mikhail was on his feet, tugging her up to him. His impatience was new and she reveled in his desire for her. They hurried down the path, his arm around her. He opened her car door and bent to kiss her. “Turn on the heater. You’re soaked.”

Mikhail’s black BMW followed her car as she drove to the Amoteh, still quaking with the need to hold him, to keep him safe and to protect him. She frowned into the rearview mirror, the curtain of rain between his car and hers. More ran between them than desire, and she wasn’t certain of the tenderness that Mikhail could make her feel. Her father had taught her not to trust that emotion.

The Amoteh was quiet and sprawling, as Mikhail quickly built a fire in her suite and she took off her damp coat. “I’ll get something to eat,” he said quietly and turned to her. “You’re cold—”

He stopped and rose slowly, staring at her body, at her breasts where her nipples thrust against the light turquoise sweater. Her heart seemed to slow and wait as he walked toward her, then curved his hand around the back of her neck, drawing her close to him.

In his eyes, she saw an age-old question, that of a man asking for a woman, desiring her. “Yes,” she whispered into the silence, the heat simmering between them.

Mikhail would be very thorough, she thought desperately, too hungry for him, as he slowly eased her sweater from her and considered her breasts beneath the lace. He breathed roughly, just that sharp intake of breath, as he unsnapped and unzipped her jeans. She slipped out of her loafers and he stroked away her jeans until she stood only in scraps of lace.

She half feared Mikhail’s dark, intent look, and yet, as a woman, she reveled in it.

Ellie didn’t expect the tug on her bra strap, the pressure enough to snap it and the other as Mikhail’s big hands
passed lightly over her, caressing away her briefs. Her hands beneath his blood-red sweater roamed that rough hot flesh, needing him pressed against her, all that wonderful big body trembling for her as she was for him.

Mikhail tore off his sweater, tossing it aside, and stripped away his jeans. Firelight defined his body, all hard planes and cords and muscles and jutting power. She could almost feel him throb with desire, her own body softening, waiting.

It would be no easy, forgettable lovemaking, she knew, as his fingertips began to prowl as if taking her into him, sensually absorbing her, his hands cradling her breasts, smoothing her stomach and hips and brushing her just there… She gripped his arms, fingers digging in as her legs weakened, the pounding within her a storm of emotions.

While he could appreciate and be thorough, her hunger ran too fiercely; she was a woman used to taking what she wanted. She’d waited a lifetime for this man, and now…

“You are already—” Mikhail’s voice was deep, raw, raising her senses, her need of him.

He eased her to the carpet in front of the fire and settled over her as he had on the rock. This time, the storm was inside her, the cold rain replaced by the heated pounding of her blood, the hunger.

His hands were gentle, seeking, claiming, his lips moving over her with a certainty that she knew could never be erased. The hot suction of his mouth, the lave of his tongue, sent her arching against him, a fierce, driving need too poignant to wait.

Mikhail seemed to gently flow over her, the muscles of his powerful back taut beneath her hands. She met his stare above her as he moved intimately, carefully, giving her time to adjust.

“Mikhail…” she whispered when they were complete, one locked with the other.

His words were dark and stormy and fierce, the bunching of his shoulders, his taut body pressing against hers, said he was forcing himself to wait for her.

But Ellie’s body raced on furiously, helplessly, clenching Mikhail. When she opened her eyes, she found Mikhail’s tender look, his thumb brushing away the tears from her lids. “You went inside yourself, taking everything.”

She tried to smile, mocking her emotions as she had for a lifetime. “I’m greedy.”

He smoothed her cheek. “Even now, as you hold me deep and tight, you are shy of me. Why?”

She looked away at the fire and Mikhail’s hand gently brought her back to him. “It’s new. It’s different. There’s just more…” she answered simply. “I’m terrified.”

“So am I. We can stop.”

“You would do that? Now?”
Who was he? Who was this man, so intense, so concerned for her above his own needs?

“Of course.”

She moved slightly, feeling the heaviness of him within her, and Mikhail tensed. “I’ve got you now,” she whispered, pressing her fingers against his back, enjoying the flow of the power there—the controlled power, waiting for her…. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“Oh, no?” There was that challenge, that arrogance she adored.

“Mikhail. If you leave me now, I’ll—”

His searing kiss sent her body flying toward his, her arms holding him tight. And then the storm began, the heat flashing, her blood pounding. She took what he gave and served it back to him as they climbed higher. Mikhail… Mikhail…Mikhail…

Later, she would hold him and wonder at the peace she had found, the safety and the comfort within his arms.

She’d been alone all of her life, and to think that Mikhail was a part of her now was frightening—because there was no going back, ignoring the beauty of what had just happened.

She stroked his hair and kissed his forehead, settling beneath the afghan he had drawn over them.

“You’re thinking too hard,” he said sleepily as he drew her closer and his hands began to roam. “Think about this….”

Later, at the Stepanov home, the family shared
zavarka
in front of the fire while Leigh contentedly nursed Katerina. Mikhail couldn’t help watching Ellie, the blush that would course up her cheeks as their eyes met, and their bodies remembered and hummed.

On impulse, he rose from his chair and plucked Ellie from hers, carrying her back to sit on his lap. “Mikhail, don’t…” she whispered frantically, trying to push free of him.

He felt like a boy, excited and a little in love with his first sweetheart, and he wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled her neck until she wriggled and laughed. When she was breathless and limp and leaning back in his arms, the softness flew around them again, the other thing that they both feared.

Ellie reached to smooth his hair and then his cheek, and the haunting loneliness in him gentled. Mikhail took her hand to bring it to his lips, and the magic deepened and caressed.

They’d made love desperately, gently, and yet—yet more awaited, then he thought, as he looked up to see his family watching them, smiling.

With a delighted squeal, Tanya climbed up to sit on his other knee. “Do that to me, Mikhail. Mom never laughs like that. She sounds like a girl.”

“She is a girl, a very pretty one, just like you.” Mikhail nuzzled the little girl’s neck until she laughed and twisted away, running to leap on Ryan, who took her to the floor, tickling her.

“It’s good,” Fadey said quietly as he studied his son. Fadey’s look said he knew that Mikhail had found the woman he wanted and had claimed her.

“Very good,” Mikhail agreed as he held Ellie closer.

She studied him slowly, and he could have fallen into those dove-gray eyes. “I’m not used to this…this openness. You say what you feel,” she whispered.

Not always, Mikhail thought, remembering the shadows he preferred not to share with his family, the bitter fights with his ex-wife, the grief over his unborn child. But they knew and understood.

“Sometimes the quiet is good, too,” he said, drawing her head down on his shoulder and letting peace roll over him as smoothly as a gentle, sunlit tide.

He nuzzled Ellie’s silky hair and welcomed the warmth and the scent, the softness, the rightness of her in his arms.

But he knew that even now, after making love, she was fighting any future with him, throwing up barricades. She’d learned in a lifetime how to protect herself from the pain that came from caring for men whose capacity for love wasn’t equal to her own.

Mikhail understood her reasoning, but he wouldn’t hurt her—ever. He intended to give her all the love that was within him.

T
he next morning in his office, Mikhail replaced the telephone and grimly considered Paul’s bitter threats—“I’ll jerk that resort off that godforsaken stretch of beach so fast, you won’t know what hit you. By the time my bulldozers get done, nothing will be left but bald, scraped dirt and a dried-up town no one wants to visit. If you don’t play ball, your career with Mignon is finished. I’ll ruin you.”

“Not if I can help it,” Mikhail said quietly as he sipped the Amoteh’s house blend coffee.

Paul would take his time—because he liked to play on and build fear—but he was capable of carrying out his threats. Mikhail had already set his defense in motion, contacting other Mignon resort managers. He had helped most of them deflect Paul’s bullying at one time or another. If there was one thing Paul appreciated, it was good managers who were “worth their weight in gold.”

It was a sad thing, Mikhail thought, that Paul didn’t ap
preciate his family as much as he did a finely tuned organization.

Mikhail hadn’t seen Ellie this morning, and it was usual for her to deliver Tanya to Mary Jo or Leigh or Bliss before starting work. He had thought about holding her all night, hoarded each memory of sounds and fever and touch, how she had touched him, trembling at first and then with a certainty and strength he hadn’t suspected….

Mikhail had ached to go to her this morning, but he held back because just the sight of her all tousled and warm could have made him ache more….

And they were about to enter a battle where he had to think clearly.

He smiled briefly at Edna, who was straightening the papers that needed his morning attention. A widow providing for her ailing sister, Edna’s character matched the prim suit and blouse she wore—ever meticulous and efficient. “The guard dog,” salesmen had often called his secretary. She was good at her job, discreet, honorable, sensible—and tough, Mikhail added, a woman to respect.

“A mixed bouquet was a perfect choice, Mikhail,” Edna said firmly. “They’ve been delivered to her suite. When she returns to it, Ellie is in for a nice surprise.”

Mikhail pictured Ellie in a sturdy Stepanov bed, flushed, curved and drowsy amid the rose petals they had just crushed. The tight squeeze of her body had warned him against more yesterday. He wanted to be very careful with her, not only sensually, but in the way a woman should be treated—cherished. Perhaps a little old-fashioned, but as a Stepanov, it was his right to cherish a woman with whom he had made love and still wanted.

Mikhail slashed his name across the papers, approving a percentage raise for the employees. “She is a surprising woman. You realize the situation, Edna? Ellie’s sister and her father are not going to be sweet. They want Tanya for a business pawn.”

“Over your dead body,” Edna said lightly. “And mine.
That little girl is a ray of sunshine, too sweet for Paul Lathrop. I cannot understand how he could possibly spawn two daughters so opposite. I’ve met them both, and Ellie is that child’s rightful mother, not Hillary. You’re right to protect them.”

“There are jobs at stake here, Edna. Including yours.” Mikhail began inspecting the additional papers she had prepared for his signature.

“I’m not worried. You’ll handle it, Mikhail. I know what it cost Ellie to ask you for help. You won’t let her down, and she knows it. She’s strong herself, but now and then, everyone needs a little help—like you helping me get this job when I needed support for myself and my sister.”

“You’re a top right hand, Edna. You helped yourself.”

“So will Ellie. Life’s a struggle, and when she’s on her feet, Ellie will thank you.”

Mikhail frowned slightly and looked at Edna, who had known him since he was a little boy. “I don’t want her to feel obligated.”

“She knows how to separate the wheat from the chaff, Mikhail. Give her credit.”

Automatically, as he worked on the papers, Mikhail outlined the day to Edna. Then, suddenly, a click of the office’s heavy doors took his attention to Ellie’s curved backside.

As she backed into his office with a loaded cart, her slacks were tight against her bottom—a round, soft curve that he had cupped in both hands as they made love. Every molecule in his body tuned into a sensual knot.

Then he realized that Edna was speaking to him and that he had just broken the pen in his hand—the ink was dripping on the paper.

“I’ll deal with this,” Edna said crisply, sweeping up the papers and taking a moist towelette from his drawer. She wiped the ink drops from his hand as if he were a little boy, smiled with what he suspected was delight and patted him on the head.

Then Edna moved to hold the door open for Ellie, who was still tugging the cart inside. When the door closed, Ellie straightened and whipped off the cloth over the elegant
samovar
. Splashed with gold and flowers, the Russian device to make tea was complete with a teapot on top and an ornate spigot.

She sat on the chair in front of his desk, her expression grim.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“I ordered this
samovar
. I thought we would have an elegant tea, complete with Russian tea cookies. High tea is very popular with ladies. Some men might like it, too. Fadey does, and so does Jarek. I think it is very appropriate, and Edna approved the purchase. And it’s beautiful, quite the softening complement for your office. There’s nothing that settles a good snarl like a civilized cup of tea. We’ll need china, of course, or those decorative metal holders for glasses. We could offer a proper tea to the menu for guest rooms, complete with a strawberry tea cozy—all of which we could sell in the resort’s shop.”

Mikhail cut through Ellie’s new product ideas to what mattered most—her opinion of him. “I see. You think I snarl.”

“You brood. I’ve upset your kingdom. You don’t like changes. Call it a silent snarl.” Her brisk tone said she had come to a decision and a bottom line. Last night’s kiss at her door had told him she was already in flight, moving back from what had happened, from him as a man, as a lover. The circles under her eyes said she hadn’t slept and Mikhail ached to hold her.

“You’re this—” Ellie pointed to the
samovar
. “The Stepanovs are based on old-fashioned love and respect and traditions that they pass on to their children—like hugs and kisses and understanding. My family isn’t.”

“So, you’ve been thinking, is that it?” Mikhail’s nerves danced and chilled. Ellie had the look of a woman in re
treat—from him. Her tone said she was laying out realities that couldn’t be dismissed…or overcome.

“Exactly. I take responsibility for my actions. I wanted you. I took you. Let’s just leave it at that. This is a temporary situation, and you’ve provided us with a safe haven for now. For that, I’m grateful.”

Mikhail rose slowly and fought the stormy mood inside him. He now knew the battle—her fear that they weren’t a match, that their backgrounds separated their futures. But yesterday afternoon there hadn’t been any boundaries. “It isn’t gratitude that I want from you.”

She wasn’t as unaffected as she seemed. Ellie’s hands gripped the arms of her chair, her knuckles showing through the fair skin. She sat ramrod straight, her body tense. The light passing through the window set fire to her hair, and Mikhail wanted to…to kiss her until she forgot about any differences between them, and any danger. “Do you trust me, Ellie? Yes or no.”

Her gray eyes warily flicked to him and away. “Yes
and
no,” she responded carefully. “I always thought you were one thing, and now I find another.”

He came to stand by her chair, fighting the impulse to drag her to him. “Do you trust me as a man?”

She sat rigid in the chair, staring away from him. “I have a hard time with trust, Mikhail. I’m sure you can understand why.”

A bitter pain sliced through him. They had loved and touched and met on a plane that meant he would want her forever, long past the heated desire of their bodies. “So that’s it, darling. You wanted me. You took me. No regrets. End of story.”

She breathed deeply and her breasts lifted and filled her sweater. “You’re an emotional man, Mikhail. You come from passionate people. Mine have ice water for blood. You know Paul, and then there’s my mother—dear Nora. He basically bought her and discarded her for a younger model. She didn’t care. The settlement was enough to make her
leave me with him, because Paul never loses assets. That’s what Hillary and I were, business assets.”

He ached for the damage Paul had done, and reveled in how Ellie had survived and achieved, in her capacity for love despite how little had been given her.

Mikhail circled her, wrapped in his frustration. “You complicate a simple matter. We made love, and you’re frightened. It’s only natural. I should have been more thoughtful. In my hunger, I forgot a woman needs time to adjust. We’ve been busy, and I should have taken time for you. I apologize.”

Her soft hands flexed on the chair, though she didn’t look at him. “No apologies needed. I was thinking, weighing, and it was right for me—with you. You’re helping protect Tanya, for now, and I need to be honest with you about my feelings. I really tried with my marriage, Mikhail. Logically, it should have worked, even without him wanting Tanya. We were well suited. We played our parts perfectly, but I’m not good at lasting relationships. That’s why I used to keep them on the light side. It was so much easier. Looking back, I probably left those relationships before they really began. My ex-husband accused me of being a tease and frigid. There’s probably truth in that. I thought it would be easy, that we knew our roles and what to expect from each other.”

Ellie definitely wasn’t frigid, rising to a fever pitch in their lovemaking, searing him with her hunger and melting after the fullest completion of lovemaking. Now her mind was at work, cutting away at the beauty, fearing it. “You think I will want too much, more than you want to give,” he told her.

She folded her hands on her lap, studying them as she spoke quietly. “I found that sex, giving my body, actually meant more than a marriage duty. I wasn’t…linked.”

Mikhail settled back into his thoughts. He knew exactly what she meant; he had experienced the same feeling. They
had been “linked,” and not only in body; for that time they had been one being, with one heart—finally complete.

Yesterday Ellie had not teased, and she was definitely not cold. She was fighting for Tanya, and yet it hurt her to battle with her family, because her love ran deep.

“Be aware that you mean little to me—personally,” he lied, changing tactics and prodding at her. He had ached for her throughout the night, and perhaps his entire life had been a search for this one woman. “I’m set for a takeover, Ellie. You and Tanya are just pawns in what I want. So don’t get any mistaken ideas that my family breeds honor, any more than yours.”

She was on her feet in a heartbeat, taut and furious with him, anger alight in her hair, her skin, snapping in her eyes. “Don’t you dare say that about Fadey and Mary Jo. Nor Jarek or Leigh. Just don’t you dare.”

“We’re a match, you and I, are we not? Cold? Bloodless? Heartless?” he asked, pushing her, excitement flowing through him that only Ellie could ignite.

She threw up her hands. “How can you say that? You developed this resort out of nothing. It’s beautiful and magnificent and—You built the Amoteh because you wanted employment for those you love, and security and health benefits, and—”

Ellie caught his tie and wrapped it around her fist as Mikhail let her back him against the wall.

The fire was there, the real woman, and Mikhail adored her, this woman, his woman. They stared at each other, the air heating between them, shifting with remembered shadows of their lovemaking, the intimacy. “You’re the only man who can set me off like this, Mikhail,” Ellie said unsteadily, after a moment.

“Likewise.” He couldn’t help grinning and bent to kiss her knuckles. The slender hand flattened against his chest moved in a light caress, pleasing him yet more. “So I am the only one, hmm?”

Ellie scowled up at him, her eyes stormy and her color
almost as high as when they had made love. “Arrogant, spicy, delicious, moody—”

He kissed her hand again and reveled in her frustration and anger, a reflection of his a moment ago. “Go back to the spicy part. Like pepper, or cinnamon, or…?”

Ellie threw away his tie and looked disgusted as she folded her arms over her chest. “Exotic. Flavorful, full-bodied flavor, that sort of thing. I couldn’t sleep last night, and you’re the reason. By the way, we need a tennis and a golf pro to give lessons here at Amoteh.”

“Too expensive. Now back to the point—it’s interesting to be compared to a coffee. Tell me more about how flavorful I am. Am I full-bodied and fulfilling to the taste?”

Ellie stared at him. “I will not.”

“You will, darling.” Mikhail moved to lock his office door and to punch Edna’s number on the intercom. “Hold my calls.”

He thought he heard his prim secretary giggle before he turned his attention to Ellie. He ripped off his tie and tossed it aside; the tie was followed by his jacket and shirt. On his way back to Ellie, he kicked off his shoes. “I want to make certain that we never have this conversation again, where you come in here looking like a thundercloud and run through all that garbage and setting up fences between us. I want you as a woman, not as a pawn. The question is, how do you want me? As a momentary distraction and then you go on your merry way?”

“I’ve hurt you. That wasn’t my intention.” Her voice trembled as Mikhail jerked the drapes closed, shadowing the room.

“Yes. But, of course, you hurt me. How did you think I would take your little declaration about how unsuitable we are on the morning after we made love? If it’s a cold, needy thing between us, darling, prove it. If what you are trying to tell me is so, sex could be as routine as opening morning mail…dispense with the necessities and get on with the day.”

“Mikhail, I didn’t mean it like that. You’re so… upsetting.”

“So I upset you, do I? Good,” he said darkly, and noted with satisfaction that she wasn’t afraid of him as he came to stand close to her.